Hiiii!! Your writing is genuinely so good and I wanted to request a Fred Weasley fic w/ a female reader who's usually the sweetest person and is slow to anger, but when she is mad it's really freaking scary? It could be a drabble or headcanons, but no pressure at all <3 tysm!!
Hi lovely!!
Thank you so much for the kind words, it means so much!! I swear I’m not ignoring your ask and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to respond. I wanted to give you sneak peak on what I’ve been working on (I ended up giving it a plot so it’s way longer than a drabble lol). I had terrible writers block for the better part of last year from so many life changes, but I’m back and so determined to finish editing it and have it out hopefully by the end of the week, it’s not even funny. Hope it’s close to what you wanted (the anger comes in later)! 💜
synopsis: in which it’s your last day near the burrow and all you want is to spend it with your boyfriend
warnings: fem!reader, post-war, mentions of the war, fred lives obvi, established relationship, (mostly) pure fluff, some suggestive moments, fred is down bad (like really bad), r has slight anger issues, r doesn't want to move, a dash of angst, happy ending tho
word count: 12.6k
request: Hiiii!! Your writing is genuinely so good and I wanted to request a Fred Weasley fic w/ a female reader who's usually the sweetest person and is slow to anger, but when she is mad it's really freaking scary? It could be a drabble or headcanons, but no pressure at all <3 tysm!!
masterlist
a/n: so this is definitely not a drabble and I FINALLY FINISHED OML I am so sorry it took so long. my first year at uni has been a drag (istg i’m going to kill my roommate) and I have like 3 missing assignments, but it’s all worth it for this. I know I said i’d post this weeks ago, but my perfectionism got in the way. this month gave me a resurgence of motivation and now it’s done! I think it’s also important to mention that I will not be supporting the new harry potter show nor anything that horrible women puts out to punish the original cast. PROTECT THE DOLLS 🏳️⚧️! thank you for your patience and support and I hope to have more out soon! enjoy my fred girlies!!!
You’d never sleep alone again. At least not out of any volition of your own.
That’s the only thought you could muster as you awoke in the wrong bed for what must’ve been the ninth night in a row.
It was ironic really. Growing up in the chaos of the castle, you dreamed of having your own designated space again. Your own house with your own bedroom where you wouldn’t be near enough anyone to care about common courtesy. Freedom from such irritating restrictions like keeping tidy and dimming any lights after 10 and worst of all, wearing bottoms to bed.
Now, you couldn’t imagine anything worse than the lonesome cold of an unshared bed.
It wasn’t even supposed to happen the first time. It was merely a choice made out of pure impulsivity, one you had specifically been banned from making within the Burrow, to spend the night in the snug clutches of your boyfriend. One special night, you had thought. But it had blown into an incurable addiction, and each passing night made it more impossible to stop. Irresistible to the point where you didn’t even try anymore.
You didn’t really want to.
And so, night after night, you traded your assigned trundle bed for the warmth of his arms. You traded the soft snores of your designated roommates (Ginny and Hermione) for the lulling patter of his resting heart. You put your life on the line every night well after curfew, trekking from Ginny’s lower level bedroom to the twin’s room on the next floor up, holding your breath with each creaking door and squeaking step, and praying to Merlin that Molly ‘The Hawk’ Weasley stayed none the wiser in her own dreamscape. And every time it had been so worth it.
George was always long asleep, his bed the closest to the door. But across the room, perched on a matching twin-sized mattress, Fred was always wide-awake. Welcoming and warm, he embraced you so you could rest comfortably in your reserved spot on his tiny bed. And he was always more than happy to accept you in your pantless form.
Better sleep wasn’t the only benefit to your sneaking. Waking up was another level of unbelievable.
On this particular morning, you were the first to open your eyes as you adjusted to the brightness streaming in from the room’s only window. Crooked and fogged from years of surviving teenage boys, drowsy eyes could only see a scape of the distant grassy hill and the sun of the late morning. Evidently, it was well past sunrise, the time you usually awoke and pungent was the wafting scent of fresh herbs and juicy, sizzling sausages. Mrs. Weasley was nearly finished cooking up a breakfast feast.
While you weren’t a fan of others going all out on your behalf, you had a feeling she’d make it grand. Memorable. She really couldn’t help herself. After all, it was the last time she'd get to make you anything for a good long while.
You weren’t alone in that regard. Everyone had a new page to turn after graduating from Hogwarts. Harry and Ron were starting their training to become Aurors, Hermione had an internship at the Ministry, and you were off to further your education as a Healer, specifically dealing with magical ailments of the wizard mind.
But Harry and Ron had another month of summer freedom before their schooling started and Hermione’s internship was so close to the house, it wouldn’t make much of a difference.
You, however, had run out of time.
Under typical circumstances, you would be sent off the same time as Harry and Ron, but the end of the war brought a rough shortage of Healers. The professionals that staffed every master program in England had to abandon their posts for the sake of the country’s steady recovery. An industry change that was indefinite. Unending until clinics could manage to function understaffed again.
But ever prosperous and in need of new Healers, the Ministry had struck a deal with the nearest school in a neighboring country. And France’s academic year for aspiring Healers happened to start a month early.
The distance and inconvenient timing were nearly enough for you to give up on your goals. You figured a life assisting the twins in their shop was more than satisfactory. You were clever, more than talented enough to figure out the alchemy to carry out any of the twin’s whimsical ideas, but your boyfriend wouldn’t let you. Fred simply cared for you too much to watch you sabotage your dreams in favor of his own.
So, you tried to make the most of the summer.
Aside from his long shifts at the shop and your own responsibilities, you spent as much time together as humanly possible. Seeing each other meant resorting to sneaking into each other’s beds and stealing kisses in the back room of Weasley Wizard Wheezes whenever Fred could smuggle a break. Yet surmounted, all the little moments after running favors and surviving shifts had been few and far in between. Plagued by the awareness that it was your last, you couldn’t bear wasting a single second of the day.
You rolled over atop the mere inches of bed beneath you, careful not to disturb the motionless body beside you in your pursuit of a view even better than what waited outside his window.
Asleep and at peace in a dreamscape of his making, your boyfriend was still, his expression of pure relaxation illuminated by the streaming sunlight. He hardly stirred as you stifled the urge to raise a hand to his bare chest, yearning to feel the steady rise and fall with each tranquil breath. You decided it better to leave him undisturbed as he dozed, sparing him as much rest as he needed.
Fred was living the dream. For that there was no doubt and even when your suspicions began to arise, he’d always shut them down by assuring you that he had all he ever wanted. His dream job with his brother. A profitable life close to his family. And you, the only girl he’d ever dared to set his sights on. You were part of his perfect plan even before he realized his passion for a profession in foolery, from the moment he first met you on a rainy day in Hogwarts. Children and yet, at only 12 he’d seen enough from his parents to know. Your union was the sweetest victory, a confirmation of his realized potential.
But even a life so picturesque had its struggles, rough strokes still encased by the golden frame. Your boyfriend loved his job. But the strain of working in service of others took a reasonable toll on him, especially now that the war was over and the masses were free to roam the streets and spend on pleasure instead of survival. Each time you visited the shop, he’d been stressed and overwhelmed, but much too charming to make it evident to his customers.
Of course you noticed, you always knew. Even now you could see the evidence, worry wrinkles kissing each outer corner of his shut eyes from wrestling over a counter all summer. But now, here in his bed, he lay in his most unshakeable natural state, arm settled against the dip of your waist. At ease. At peace. And you loved how well it suited him.
“It’s rude to stare, you know,” Fred spoke softly, voice raspy with a trickle of sleep as his eyes fluttered open to gaze back at you. Chestnut and cozier than a steaming cup of cocoa.
You grinned through a chuckle, submitting to your urges as you hand grazed the freckles that speckled his cheekbones.
“You love it.”
His arm agreed for him, loose clinging fingers brushing down your side until they reached the bone of your hip. There, between the sleep raised hem of your night shirt (borrowed from Fred’s graphics collection) and the worn lacey trim of your most unflattering panties, he assumed a gentle grip, tracing circles on your skin with the smooth pad of his thumb.
“Can’t argue with that.” he mused.
He’d taken more hits than usual in recent days, ambushed by the influx of incoming students stocking up for the school year. You recognized the subtle pink scab on his neck, a progression in healing from when he had come home with the initial burn at the start of the week. A firework accident from a clumsy kid who had accidentally set off half the explosives display. His arms were a map of several more incidents as were the purple indicators of unrest that stained his lower lids and on the edge of his hairline, you noticed a fresh bruise among the array of freckles that lay partially hidden by his flaming hair. Still, he didn’t seem to feel it as your fingers passed over the sickly green skin bordering his temple.
Fred plucked your palm from his cheek, rotating it over to brace his lips against the back of it, eyes still locked on your face.
“How long have you been awake?” you asked, hoping you hadn’t kept him waiting.
“Only a minute," he promised. “But I think we could do with a few extra.”
“I don’t think so,” you scolded lightly, stopping your boyfriend before he could drift back into a dream. “I’m not keen on dozing our time away.”
“Wow,” Fred chuckled, drowsiness swept away by your eagerness. “Never, in all our years together, did I think I’d see the day you turn down extra sleep.”
“What can I say?” you shrugged. “Extra time with you is much more important.”
A light grin graced Fred’s face as he let the words settle in.
“In that case,” he spoke, lips curving into a signature smirk. “I might have an idea on how to start our perfect day together.”
You felt the muscles in his arm flex against you as he tugged you closer, enveloping you in his warmth. Noses nudging, lips only separated by centimeters, you stood cautiously on the edge of accepting his advances. You wanted to, but there was a key component to your situations that seemed to evade him.
“Hang on,” you whispered, pausing and pulling back before his face could close the only gap keeping you sane.
“Did you have a different idea?” he smirked. “I’m open to suggestions.”
You chuckled, rolling your eyes in lieu of shaking your head,
“What about your brother?” you whispered as his face neared yours, nodding towards the identical bed across the room where George always resided at this time in the morning. You weren’t keen on being scolded again after the last time he had snapped at the two of you, painfully awake though you had been so sure he had been deeply asleep. As much as you loved your boyfriend, you hated being a bother.
But Fred’s grin only deepened.
“What about him?”
Much to your pleasant surprise, when you finally took a moment to peer over at the other twin’s bed, your concern melted away. Haphazardly thrown sheets and a dent in his pillow, George’s bed was entirely vacant.
You were smiling when Fred finally leaned in to kiss you, your chest filling up with enjoyment at the feeling of his lips against yours. Kissing him was always sort of magical.
Your eyelids fluttered shut as you reached to feel him, hands resting against his neck and fingers curling into his short hair before sneaking down to feel the smooth taught skin of his structured chest as you remembered his lack of a shirt.
His hand parted from your hip to float up under the loose fabric of your sleep shirt, softened by age, as he held you close to lessen the space between you.
He swallowed each of your sighs as you adjusted to hover over him, teeth clashing and lips chasing as you straddled his waist. You frowned when you finally had to come up for air, breathing heavily as your shirt bunched into a bundle just below your bra line. Warm hands caressed the length of your spine and crept back down, skin against skin and leaving fresh goosebumps in their wake. You were grinning as you lifted your head, aiding him as he leisurely littered the column of your neck in slow careful kisses before moving to just below your ear.
“Fred!” a sudden voice called as familiar footsteps pattered up the staircase.
Eyes wide and heart sinking, you froze as the sound grew eerily closer, headed straight for the twin’s room. Fred sat up beneath you, turning his head towards the door. Breath baited and hands frozen against your skin, you both waited for another call from the source, confirmation that your worst fears were about to play out on the worst day possible.
“Come on now,” it spoke. “Everyone else is up already!”
Even as a temporary resident of the Burrow, you knew that nagging tone anywhere. The unmistakable voice of Molly Weasley.
“Merlin,” you cursed as you dove for the underside of Fred’s bed. Squeezing between the space that separated his mattress and the wall, you crouched for optimal coverage, hands the last thing to duck out of sight just as his door creaked open.
“Oh, you’re up! Lovely.” Mrs. Weasley smiled, kitchen slippers padding into closer view on the wooden planks that groaned beneath new weight. She was only a few feet from the bed, everything below her ankles in view from your grounded position.
“Morning Mum,” you heard Fred greet, hiding what you knew to be his irritation from the moment interrupted. “I wasn’t expecting a wake up call.”
“Yes, well, everyone else is almost through with breakfast and I need you up and ready to work after you’ve eaten.”
That was a surprise for the both of you. As far as you had anticipated, you and Fred had the entire day to spend however you’d like. The prospect of serving in someone else's plans was like being tied up on train tracks, left to worry as time spilled away.
“Work on what exactly?” Fred questioned.
“You’ll see, just be dressed to go outside.”
You pondered what could possibly be in store as Mrs. Weasley's feet turned back towards the door, but you made the mistake of misinterpreting her pause for conversational closure.
Her feet spun around, just as suddenly as your name fell from her lips.
“I know you’re there, dear. I want you up too.”
You twitched, but with no reason to stay hidden, you found yourself rising to your knees until you were visible from your ribs and up.
“Yes, Mrs. Weasley.” you nodded, heat rushing up your neck and goosebumps buzzing down your bare legs. You were grateful your lack of bottoms was obstructed from view by Fred’s bedding. It was purely lucky you still had on a shirt, even if it very clearly wasn’t yours.
“Excellent. I’ll leave you to get ready. I expect you down in five minutes.”
And finally, with a couple quick steps and a quick click of the door, the bloodhound was off to sniff out trouble somewhere else. Mrs. Weasley was gone.
“And to think we almost had the perfect morning.” Fred sighed, never missing a beat.
Slipping out from the side of his bed, you shoot him a look of absolute shock, incredulous as to how he wasn’t reacting as dramatically as he should’ve been. At least something subtle enough to match the spike of your own confusion.
“That was strange.” you pointed out, rather emphatically.
“What?” he asked, reaching for your hand and helping you out into the clearing. There, in the corner of his small room, you foraged through the small pile of clothes he had created during the few hectic days of his visit, tossing him the first shirt that looked at least partially unwrinkled and pulling on the bottoms you had hurriedly discarded in the night.
“She didn’t even seem mad,” you gestured towards the door as Fred pulled his head through the mess of cloth, twisting it around until his arms found their respective sleeves. “It’s just so weird. You know she doesn’t like us sleeping together under her roof.”
“It’s not like we were doing anything.” he countered, holding open his door for you and sticking close behind as you crossed the narrow hall to the shared, cramped bathroom of the Burrow. There was hardly enough room for one person, but you and Fred were adept at existing in restricted spaces.
“Sure we weren’t. I didn’t have pants on!”
Hopping on the counter, you took your usual spot beside the sink as Fred locked the door and reached for the drawer that contained your spare toothbrushes, the stems of which were bespeckled with flecks of glitter (his a cherry red and yours a bright blue). You wouldn’t let him leave the market with the solid colored ones.
Smearing paste on the bristles of each, he passed yours over. His reflection gazed back at him as froth formed in the corners of his mouth, but your own brush remained tight in your grip. You were too preoccupied trying to unpuzzle Mrs. Weasley’s uncharacteristic gentleness.
“C’mon, love,” Fred prodded through a mouthful of paste, his eyes darting to you as he laid a hand to your knee. “It’ll be dry before you use it.”
“I just don’t get it. Not once has your mother made an exception to her rules. Even during Bill’s wedding when none of us were sure if we'd ever see each other again. But just now? She didn’t even seem mad.”
He drew his hand from your leg to rinse out his brush, white swirling down the drain.
“Well,” he began. “May I remind you that now, we are both mature adults who can chose to sleep in my flat instead of my childhood home anytime we please-”
A soft scoff left your lips at his imprecise use of mature.
“-and it is kind of our last day together…”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” you groaned, pulling up your knees so you could hide the grimace on your face.
“Hey,” Fred said softly, replacing your toothbrush on the counter before you could get the tacky paste on your skin. Prying your face from its refuge, he held your jaw in one of his steady hands, the other smoothing down the length of your thighs until they relaxed on the edge of the counter. “It’s not like you’re leaving forever.”
“It’s a whole year, Freddie.”
“I know, but there will be breaks in between. And France is only a train ride away.”
He was right. Of course it wasn’t like you were moving across the ocean, but you and Fred rarely had more than a dozen miles between you since your days at Hogwarts. The thought made you sigh.
“It’s just really important to me that we make the most of today.”
“So we will.” he promised, thumb running over the apple of your cheek.
“And I need to pack,” you added. “It’s very important that I do that too.”
“Alright, but first,” his hands sank back to your thighs. “I think we should get back to what we were doing.”
“Oh?” you smirked. “But I thought you said we weren’t doing anything.”
“Maybe I’ve forgotten,” he clung to the fabric of your bottoms to pull you closer, slotting himself between your legs as you sat just at the edge of the countertop. “You should remind me.”
You did. You reminded him until his breath was heavy against yours and your knees were squeezing his sides. It was only minutes before a knock outside kept you from getting too carried away.
“Fred? Is that you in there? Would you hand me a hair elastic?”
“Ginny,” you murmured with mild annoyance, pulling back from his lips.
With a frustrated exhale, Fred retreated from your warmth to open the door a crack, just enough to show his face. Concealed, you caught hold of his hand before he could speak, placing the desired tie in his palm.
“You couldn’t wait?” he commented, gifting it to his sister.
“Mum was wondering what’s taking so long. Sent me to make sure you’re out of bed.”
“Well, my snoopy sister, as you can plainly see, I am up and at 'em.”
“Uh huh. Are you hiding her in there?” she inquired of course in reference to you. “She wasn’t in my room this morning and you know Mum doesn’t like it when you sneak her around.”
“I haven’t seen her,” he lied with ease, reaching back a hand to stroke your shin. He wasn’t ready to give you up just yet. “I thought she was downstairs. Or maybe she’s outside. You should look there.”
“Sure...” she accepted with a roll of her eyes, cool disbelief bleeding through her tone. Ginny was never one to fall for her brothers’ charades. “I’ll see you both in a bit.”
Fred relocked the door once she was gone, her hurried footsteps echoing down the stairs.
“She’s not going to be happy when she finds out.” you remarked, eyebrows raised as Fred returned to you, arms lacing around your center. A regrettable look wormed its way onto his face.
“She already knows. I give us three more minutes before Mum comes back herself. We’ll have to pick this up later.”
Pressing one last kiss to the side of your neck and the center of your forehead, he helped you from the counter and handed you your toothbrush. Only a tiny portion of the paste had cemented as you begrudgingly brushed.
The remainder of your morning routine went by in a surprisingly smooth whirl for something so hurried. Probably because you and Fred were no strangers to chaos.
You used to be, many years before when you only thought of him if he was standing before you, begging for a rematch in wizard chess. That or when you found remnants of his invasion in your trunk after a weekend stay at the Burrow, like when you found your school tie died a ridiculous pink and charcoal. You used to freak out after every incident, raging and swearing that you’d never so much as sit by him again. False promises that never stuck.
You were in your final years at Hogwarts when you finally began to understand. That behind your ire stood a boy who only ever wanted your attention. Even if it meant surviving your anger and getting screamed at for a harmless prank. Soon, both events became much less frequent.
Now, you thrived on spontaneity.
Shoulder to shoulder in the limited space, you and Fred were in a trance of mindless coordination, perfectly synchronic like two players on the same piano stool. Fred washed up as you brushed, bumping elbows and giggling until one particular snort sent paste dribbling out the corners of your mouth. You shot him a look of feigned disapproval, pushing against him so you could spit what was left into the sink. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder with a laugh.
He fetched your clothes as you took over washing, sneaking into Ginny’s room to nab the exact articles you requested. A dangerous venture. But when determined, your boyfriend was impervious to failure.
He returned to the sacred bathroom space with your cool summer top and jeans, already clad in a pair of his own just as you finished fixing your hair. And as you changed, he headed down to breakfast so you could enter the kitchen at a staggered pace. Of course, your relationship was no secret to any of the Burrow residents. But committing to the stealthy bit was always much more fun.
Fred had already dished you up by the time you reached the bottom of the stairs.
“There she is,” Ginny teased with a knowing stare, though you were sure she had harbored her bathroom speculation from the rest of her family and your good friends. “About time you showed up.”
“Slept in,” you shrugged with a smile. Taking your place at his side, you were delighted to see many of the plates spread around the table were filled with your favorites of Mrs. Weasley. Even after catching you in her son’s bed, she was happy to spoil you.
Fred’s hand slid to the bend of your knee as you cut into your link of steaming sausage. An acknowledgment of your shared morning, a special sacred thing and yet, recent weeks had brought a steep incline in the sneaking of these kinds of tiny gestures. Subtle touches that you could stow away whenever you were apart, hoarding until the next dose. Like collectibles, be it a brief brush of his hand gently grazing your cheek or a quick peck once you were hidden behind some closet door, occasionally spiraling into something much more serious.
Fred had always been sporadic, always had a touchy tendency, but it was different lately. Fleeting. Charged by the unspoken fact that in a few weeks, neither of you could be sure when you’d be able to hold each other again.
Unwilling to yield to your wretched worries, you shooed away the thought by sneaking your free hand down to smooth over his. For now, you were here. For now, he was yours.
“So,” Harry cleared his throat, turning towards you once he’d swallowed down the last of his eggs with a wash of juice. “What exactly did you want to do today?”
Fred answered before you could, whispering in your ear as his grip migrated to the meat of your thigh, kneading the soft skin. “I think I’ve got an idea…”
“Later,” you smirked, waving him off with the promise of the future. “I’ve been trying to think of ways to celebrate, but all I really want is to spend as much time with all of you as possible.”
“Maybe we could go to town, snag you some of the newest fashions for Paris.” Hermione suggested, the city spinning off her tongue like the purr of a cat.
“We must at least play through a round of Quidditch,” insisted Ginny who had been dying to get back in the air since school had gotten out, competition stewing in her like a pot waiting to boil. “That way you’ll have some new memories for Paris, just like the good old days.”
Hermione scrunched her nose at Ginny’s mockery of her pronunciation, but the flicker of distaste was smoldered by a shared short-lived laugh.
“I actually like the sound of that.” George concurred. “We have a perfect split too, oh, unless Hermione’d like to play.”
“Nice try. I’m perfectly content keeping score as always.”
“Perfect,” you beamed, stretching back in your chair as you readied to retrieve enough brooms for the pack until Mrs. Weasley reached the table.
“I’m afraid that’ll all have to wait.” she interrupted. “We’ve much to do before the summer’s over. I’m going to need everyone’s help if we’ve any chance of celebrating later today.”
“Oh,” you sighed, biting back the sting of slight annoyance. An ideal last day with your chosen family did not include chores, but you supposed any fun worth having was worth working for. And the sooner you got started, the more benefits you could indulge in with ample time. “Alright, no worries. Where must we start?”
“C’mon Mum,” Ron groaned. He was also eager for a Quidditch rematch now that he could keep up with his brothers (and Ginny) and that every point he blocked from the other team would be witnessed by the pretty girl who kept score. “Can’t we go one day without cleaning something up that will still be there tomorrow?”
“Not if you want to continue living here. Rent-free might I add.”
“What can I do?” you asked with more impatience, dying to start whatever task waited for you.
“Thank you, shouldn’t you all be more like her?” Mrs. Weasley chided. “I was thinking we should have our dinner outside tonight which means I need the garden tamed. That includes de-gnoming, pruning the flowers, and trimming the lawn. Especially the long grass down by the lakeside, it’s in desperate need. Boys?”
Mrs. Weasley finished with a tilt of her head towards Harry and of course, a grouchy Ron.
Relinquishing with a sigh of defeat, Ron nodded. “Yeah yeah, whatever.”
“I can help them as well,” you offered, soon joined by Hermione.
“Lovely! I’d also appreciate help around the house when you’re finished. Just a few small things. I’m sure the four of you should have it done in no time.”
“I think you mean the six of us,” Fred smiled, rising as you did as his grip slipped from your thigh to grasp at your wrist, finger tips skimming down the lines of your palm until his hand was entwined with yours. “George and I could get it done easily in half the time it would take you lot by yourselves. I reckon we’ll be playing within the hour.”
“Yeah right,” you scoffed with a roll of your eyes. “I bet you’d only slow us down.”
He grinned, eyes narrowing in the special manner he reserved for when he was about to retort with something absolutely devastating, but George intervened before his comeback could emerge.
“Aren’t you forgetting something? We’ve got our own work to tend to this morning.”
“Damnnit, that’s right.” Fred groaned, releasing your hand to set his plate in the sink. “We better go.”
Trailing behind like a hunter in pursuit, you didn’t let him far without explanation.
“Wait, what is he talking about? You told me the shop was closed today?” you frowned.
While not ideal, you were fine with swapping an early celebration for chores. As long as you were with your loved ones, whatever unexciting task you were expected to complete didn’t matter in the least. Together, you always found a way to brighten the mundane into a pleasant memory.
This was worse than suboptimal. The only thing you refused to go the day without was Fred and here he was, slipping from you faster than your remaining time was running out.
“It is,” Fred confirmed, patting his pockets to check that they contained his necessities before returning his attention to you. “But there’s a few things George and I have to take care of today. I promise it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Stealing your hands in his, he lowered to press a kiss to your cheek. “And then I’m all yours.” he promised, whisper tickling your skin before he kissed away the sensation.
“You better hurry.” you urged and while you meant it as a jest, your voice was void of humor.
Fred promised with a nod and a smile.
He patted George on the back as he reached the foyer, turning back to call, “We’ll be back as soon as possible.” before apparating away.
You tried to ignore it, the bleak chasm that formed in your chest at the sight of him leaving. The fury that licked like flames in your heart. The rebubbling of injustice and fears of abandonment that you had already attempted to bottle. The fingers that had been in his only moments ago now stiffened at your side.
But with a breath you remembered it was only morning. The start of a day you refused to waste and if Hogwarts had taught you anything, it was that your determination remained your biggest strength. Fred would be back soon and you’d get what you were promised. The rest of the afternoon to be stuck to one another, like gum to a trainer.
“Shall we?”
Ron appeared beside you during your coping trance, levitating his own dishes and yours into the sink to be scrubbed of grime by his mother’s enchanted soapy brush. Though his and your dissatisfaction were comparable, he knew how badly you expected perfection from your last day. Harry and Hermione had already fled to the garden, scavenging for the right equipment from Mr. Weasley’s cluttered shed.
“I suppose.” you sighed, unclenching the fists you hadn’t meant to ball up. You feigned a smile in their place. “Let’s go.”
With every gnome you spun silly and chucked into the blue horizon, you missed Fred terribly. He should’ve been there, terrorizing garden pests and teasing Ron as a distraction to steal you away. But you tried to remember, before Fred had cannonballed into your life and ever longer before the burn of firework powder permeated your Amortentia, the trio were your favorite company.
Initially, you had volunteered to do all the arduous tasks, de-gnoming and mowing and wincing from the searing soreness of physical labor to occupy your thoughts. And you were contently successful, until Ron revealed his hidden aptitude for destroying his mother’s flowers.
And so, away went your perfect plan and so returned your unwarranted thoughts, dark clouds of misfortune raining upon you once more.
You managed to relax a little with Hermione, entertaining her with the typical topics of old friends as long as it didn’t broach the subject you were intent on avoiding. No higher education. No question of France.
You didn’t need to say it.
Hermione understood.
Instead you reminisced on old times at Hogwarts and newer sacred summer memories, trading anything you’d heard from the variety of peers you still wrote to.
“Neville’s absolutely devastated, but I hope it doesn’t haunt him for too long. Luna’s never been one for conforming to societal expectations. Then again, maybe that’s why he liked her.” Hermione shared as she snipped away at the last few stems.
“Well, as soon as he recovers, I doubt he’ll have much trouble finding someone new,” you shrugged, finishing your own bush of blossoms. “I mean, did you see him last week at that pub? He’s definitely not the same klutz we knew as kids.”
“I didn’t say it…” she smirked.
Brushing the dirt off your knees, you stood once the border of the Burrow was complete, tugging off the gloves you’d borrowed from Mr. Weasley’s shed. They were burnt at the tips, brown leather fading into a charred black. What yardwork elicited such a fiery response, you weren’t sure.
“Finally,” you sighed as Hermione stood after her own finishing touches. “And to think it only took us half an hour.”
“Looks fine to me.” she agreed.
“Right,” you stated off towards the outer edges of the yard where Harry and Ron had wandered earlier with the mower. “I say we check in on the boys, yell at them a bit if they’re not doing it properly, and then it’s off to whatever awaits us in the house.”
Gathering up the bottle of weed potion and discarded trimmers, you expected Hermione to be right behind you.
“Actually, I think you should go.”
You turned, too stunned to pull away as Hermione forced your things from your grip, tucking your shears below her arm along with her own.
“What?”
“To Fred,” she elaborated, pulling her wand from behind her ear as she sent each supply soaring towards the shed. She had no intention of attempting to sort through it again, putting everything back exactly where she had found it. That would be Ron’s job. “You should spend some more time with him, go visit him before lunch.”
Heart skipping, the only thing that kept your feet planted in the grass instead of whirling through time and space was your hesitation to make a selfish decision.
“You don’t think anyone would be upset without my help?” You asked, though anyone was only a supplement for Mrs. Weasley. And maybe Ron.
Truly you did feel sorry ditching the work, but Hermione was quick to waft away the guilt.
“Oh no, the boys won’t mind and I’m sure the three of us can handle anything Mrs. Weasley throws our way. She’ll understand. It’s your special day.”
You nodded, tongue painting over your teeth as you thought it over.
“You’re probably right. I mean, she caught me in his bed this morning and didn’t even seem mad.”
“Now that’s a tall tale,” Hermione chuckled lowly. “I almost don’t believe that.”
“I know, right? But it’s true.”
“Then that settles it. She says it herself, time is galleons. You should spend yours however you’d like.”
“Thanks ‘Mione.”
You offered the most sincere smile you’d been able to conjure since that morning, pulling her in for a hug before sneaking off to the grassy knoll everyone used for such Apparition. Unmowed, but perfect all the same.
“Oi!” you heard Hermione shout in the distance. “That’s not how you cast that spell! For Merlin’s sake, we covered this in second year herbology!”
The distant sound of Ron’s voice squawking back was enough to make you chuckle. They were nearly the same children you had befriended so long ago, only changed by complicated feelings and even more complicated events.
Revealing in the light summer breeze, you closed your eyes to focus. Casting came much easier when you could so clearly visualize exactly where you wanted to go, pointing your wand out and flicking your wrist in just the right way.
A familiar rush, a harsh twist in your stomach, and then the triumph of sudden solidification. You beamed as you felt it. The soles of your shoes bracing against rough cobblestone, the sprawling store fronts that made up Diagon Alley surrounding you on all sides. And then, there it was. The dream you’d helped bring to life, still bright and bold in all its orange glory. Only now, the doors that usually held in a bustling mess of buyers were motionless, widows utterly empty. A large red sign displayed ‘closed’ in bright lettering.
For regular customers, that was. Never for you. To you, Weasley Wizard Wheezes was a home left wide open. Always.
Even now, during the rare hours that they were closed, the security charms that kept their doors sealed were no match for the witch who had a hand in creating them.
“Beaters are eaters,” you whispered, exhaling proudly at the systemic click of lock turning. Not your personal pick of a password, but Fred had insisted on it.
As you stepped inside, the familiar bell chime announced your arrival. Crisp and clear, like the air of the empty store. While the twins preferred it packed and busy, you appreciate the gentle quiet of closing hours. A recovery process, like every product on every shelf was waiting in contentment.
“We’re closed!” you heard a disgruntled shout from one of the twins, George standing to round the corner of the main checkout, rushing to shoo you away. The crease between his brows, identical to Fred’s when he was thinking too hard, immediately softened when he was met with you instead of an invasive customer.
“Blimey, for a second I thought the bloody charm broke.” he sighed in relief, oozing gratitude.
“Nope,” you shrugged. “Works as perfectly as the day I installed it. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Yeah yeah, you’re brilliant.” he chuckled through an eye roll. “He’s downstairs.”
Thanking him, you hurried towards the back of the store, slipping sideways through the hidden entrance and skipping down concrete stairs.
Only half a floor below the main shelves resided a somewhat capacious space that functioned as extra storage and an area for office operations. Desks on opposite walls and a table that held up an array of prototypes, a bulletin board with a gallery of memories pinned to the center wall just above it. An arrangement that had, of course, been your idea. Decorations to burn away the dreary corporate feel and enough space for their creativity to flow.
A wide variety of medias covered the walls even outside of the board, anything from polaroids to magazine articles to unhappy product reviews from unsatisfied customers. ‘For motivation,’ Fred had claimed. Really he just found them funny.
Particles of your past also lingered around the room as you were featured in far too many unflattering photos nearest to Fred’s side. And that wasn’t even including his favorite, surrounded by a copper frame as a proud display of his affections.
It was the first thing you spotted as you entered, a particularly awkward shot of your silhouette during Bill’s wedding last summer. Attention somewhere distant, you were completely unaware of the camera, the emerald skirt of your silky dress blurred by prior twirling as you tugged on Fred’s matching tie (though he was conveniently cropped out). What tortured you most was your expression, mouth wide open and eyes wired shut as you laughed unabashedly.
You had despised the picture from the moment you became aware of its existence, but Fred? He didn’t see it the same as you, unattractive and unguarded. He only noticed your irresistible beauty. At first you figured it was the dress. He’d been more than clear about how much he liked it that night. Over time you finally understood the allure that he had recognized instantly.
It was your spirit: wild and elated and so desperately in love that you couldn’t care less about sparing a second to look good for the camera.
Creeping up behind him, you grinned as he failed to hear your pattering, too engrossed in the task at hand. You peak over his shoulder at the papers sprawled beneath his pen. Nearest the bottom were riddled with a dense font, financial dealings no doubt. Fresh designs and spare parchment overtook the dull work, blueprints for a new product.
“Having fun, are we?”
“Bloody-” Fred twitched in his chair at the sudden disturbance, but his face softened at the sight of you. “Oh.”
“Whatever happened to being as quick as possible? You know, so you could return to your very patient girlfriend?”
Reaching for one of your hands, he sent you his signature grin, sick with affection, the one he reserved just for you.
“I was, honest,” he affirmed, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “And I don’t know about patient, but she certainly is clever. Enough to fix that problem for me.”
“A-ha.”
“How’s the garden?”
“Fine, looks alright at least,” you sighed. “Hermione and I finished our part fast enough, seeing as you weren’t there to distract me. It was her idea, coming here.”
“Always bright, that Hermione. Now you can distract me.”
“Looks like you're distracted enough already.” You glanced over him again at the mess of scrolls. “What are you working on?”
Fred swiveled around in his chair until he was facing his drawing again, leaning into your touch as your arms slid to wrap around his center and your head settled atop his shoulder. His face was obscured by your position, peering down upon the pile, but you knew he was smiling. Fred loved sharing his ideas, especially with you.
“It’s a portal, of sorts” he began to explain, pointing at each part of his drawing once it was the subject of his discussion. “At first I was looking to recreate Harry’s mirror, you know the one? Something similar, but with speakers and able to withstand great distances. Then I got thinking, since really I want all of the senses incorporated, why not use the mind? Especially when it’s most dormant so one could hypothetically make the most of the time they spend sleeping. So, now I’m trying to figure out some kind of mental bridge, but I can’t think of the right spell that will connect everything correctly…”
You hummed as he paused, wondering if he knew how much you loved listening to him ramble about his passions. As he finished, you felt yourself lean deeper into the corded muscle of his shoulder, lips bracing just behind the shell of his ear.
“And why are you plagued with making this?”
Fred chuckled, one of his hands lowering from his outline to skim over yours.
“It’s not like anything we’ve ever made before. I think something new might be the perfect method to boost our sales.” He lied with such ease, anyone else watching might've bought it.
“Sounds a little too romantic for a joke shop.”
“It could be used for prankster purposes. Show up in a rival’s dream, pull their teeth out, pants them, the possibilities are endless.”
“I don’t know, seems unlikely.”
“Who am I to judge my consumers interests?”
Sighing dramatically, you tilted your head to brush your lips against the side of his neck.
“And here I was assuming this was for me.”
“That might be an unintended benefit.”
You scoffed, pulling away until Fred caught your arm, tugging until you were seated upon his desk and your cheeks were cupped by his hands.
“Of course it’s for you,” he laughed, thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip affectionately. “All I can think about is how much I'm going to miss you.”
Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you grinned.
“I knew it.”
Growing closer, his nose sidled alongside your own, lips just shy of brushing.
“Fred!” George shouted in the distance. “It’s here!”
Huffing, your boyfriend reared back, sharing the annoyance that was melting into your own expression.
“Shit.” he sighed.
“Shit.” you agreed.
“I forgot, we’re really here for this huge delivery. They couldn’t ship it any other day. George can’t unload it on his own, I gotta go help him.”
Yet another ruined moment on a day that was supposed to be filled with them. Packed to the brim until each end was overflowing.
“It’ll be quicker with three people, I’m happy to help.”
An offer not exactly born out of benevolence, more like you hadn’t been able to steal away more than ten minutes with him and you weren’t warming to the notion of losing another dozen or so.
“No, need,” he assured. “You should relax for a bit, cool off from all that time in the sun.”
You signed in defeat, void of the energy to push a case you weren’t entirely set on winning. There was still the afternoon and dinner and whatever curious ventures that followed.
With Fred, there were always curious ventures to follow.
“Will it take long?”
You curled your fingers around his wrists, as if cuffing his hands to your cheeks would cement their placement, gluing him to you for at least the rest of the unspecified hours of this shift. If only it really worked that way.
You wished it could.
“I hope not. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“You said that last time.”
“Yeah, but last time my motivation wasn’t sitting here like this, all pretty on my desk. It’s an awfully effective method for speeding the process along.”
You shrugged away the pleasant warmth of blood flushing up your neck and under his palms.
‘I’ve been known to have my moments of occasional genius.”
He chuckled and then leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then the crowning bone of each cheek, and finally, ever so briefly, to your waiting lips.
“Don’t keep me waiting.” you jested as he pulled away, but really, there was nothing remotely entertaining about the matter and Fred squeezed one last sign of his adoration into your wrists as if to show that he too felt every ounce of your longing.
“I love you.”
And then he was gone, the last of his footsteps pattering farther up the stairs and deeper into the main level until they were imperceptible. Blending in with the natural ambience of the shop. Faded away.
With nothing better to do, you lowered yourself into your boyfriend’s chair and scanned every inch of his unfinished blue print and the messy scrawl of notes surrounding it. Chicken scratch you happened to be fluent in.
Fred was close. By his calculations and estimations from his skill in potions and charms, you agreed that everything he theorized should work in the intended manner. But the connection, that was the rub. How could one link together two unconscious minds against the odds of extreme physical distance? Allowing them to dream together. Exist together.
I mean, this was your supposed specialty, the mind. You alone held the finest brush to paint in the rest of the picture. And you were always up for the challenge.
Several simple fixes would involve the contraption to hold open receptors. But then came the possibility of tech slipping into the wrong hands, of too many channels open all at once, of dreams blurring into terrible nightmares. No, that was much too complicated. There had to be methods, ways to block unwelcome people from intruding.
Broaching unwelcome visitors transported you back to bed. Back to pantless peace broken for a cause so irrelevant. If only you could manufacture some sort of block now, cast some hex to stop the sun’s continuous arch. Save some of the seconds before they were stolen.
If this torment carried on much longer, you weren’t sure you’d see Fred again until Christmas. A wait you couldn’t be sure was tolerable.
Why now was there need for a war?
Bloody Death Eaters.
Desperation burned with every sorry thought, forging a pathway towards success, towards the completion of a goal your boyfriend had been chasing, but couldn’t quite catch.
Racking your brain for every solution possible, you pulled another spare piece of parchment from the plentiful stack in one of Fred’s drawers, scribbling down every spell in existence, tweaking each contribution once your list was thoroughly narrowed.
Fred was back within the hour and though his absence lasted much longer than you would’ve preferred, it was short enough for your progress to be quite the impressive achievement. You’d figured it out, every bell and whistle, every potion and enchantment, everything required to keep you connected to your loved ones.
“It’s a variation of a bind charm, fairly simple actually,” you explained to him upon his awaited return. “It works like a tunnel, each side equipped with its own door. Opening both doors requires the participation and intention of both parties, which prevents any unwanted visitors. As long as both parties take the capsule and are picturing each other, they can connect. Now, I designed it as a circular pill, but shape doesn’t matter as much as the recipe. I put the steps and ingredients over here if you want to go over it.”
Fred followed your quill as you pointed to the margin where you had added a tidy set of steps, hands braced against the arms of his chair, caging you in the holding cell you were more than happy to be trapped in. He reached out a finger to brush over the fine ink lines, precious as a porcelain doll.
“I knew you’d finish it,” he murmured with a grin, a warm breath tickling your temple.
“No you didn’t.”
“Did we not just establish that you are an occasional genius?”
You had, an hour ago. And while your miracle-dream tablet was a product of pure passion-bred ingenuity, a real genius would be able to solve what kind of delivery took an hour to unbox.
Then Fred’s lips grazed over your hairline and you were distracted by another unsolved dilemma. A particularly troubling problem, one that involved feet dashing around carpet instead of tangled together in heaps of sheets and blankets.
“I don’t know, maybe I need a reminder…”
“Oh?” Fred mused, helping you back from his chair for a better glance at your face, eyes laden with intrigue. “What kind of reminder?”
“Not sure,” you shrugged with a smirk. “Maybe whatever you were thinking about when you pictured me perched on your desk.”
Settling back onto the wood, you grinned as Fred’s palms took root beside your hips, his matching suggestive smile aimed at lapsing over your own. Achingly slow.
Or so you assumed.
“Lovely, nothing would make me happier,” he gazed, pressing his promised kiss away from where it was desperately needed in favor of the indent of your cheek, barely brushing the crease where your lips began. “But I’m afraid Mum’s just summoned us for lunch.”
You groaned, that horrible feeling of disappointment and annoyance resurging like an unbreakable fever.
“It is around that time, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry, I really, really wish it wasn’t,” he insisted, furthering his descent of kisses down your face until his newest graced the line of your jaw. “And I swear, we'll get back to this, uninterrupted, before the night is out. It’s store policy. Full customer satisfaction or a full refund.”
“That’s not a real policy.”
“It is for you.”
You chuckled, a sound more dejected than delighted. Lunch meant half the day had already slipped from your fingers, half of your last few hours on this side of the Channel.
The familiar brew of anger once again stirred in your stomach, but you couldn’t waste the rest of the day angry. Disappointed and bothered sure, but things got scary when you were angry. Cracked moments shattered and the ground churned like it was about to burst open.
The morning had been a test of your temper, but you knew that keeping calm was imperative in order for your real departure to resemble a reenactment of the idealized farewell you’d spent so many nights in recent weeks dreaming up. At least as close as it could get, perhaps a touch less theatrical.
“Alright.” you relented, sliding off the desk and rolling up the parchment once your feet were firmly planted. A roll you quickly passed to Fred. “I suppose if we’ve been summoned, then we ought to go. But I better get every Knut’s worth of that policy.”
“On my honor,” he avowed, laughing as you shot him a look of acute suspicion in place of stating the obvious, that even Fred’s maturity rivaled his honor. Or perhaps the comical lack of either. “Which reminds me, I grabbed something for you.”
Digging through his pocket, he pulled out a sweet that was obscured from your view until it was pertly shining in the center of your palm. You knew it instantly from the bright purple foil, neglecting to read the golden print atop the tiny dome.
“Hangover cure?” you laughed, delighted by the overall implications of the gesture. “Am I really going to need this?"
“I might have something special lined up for later. Better safe than sorry.”
The promise was enough to lift your grounded spirits.
At least it had been.
Lunch had turned into a near perfect recreation of your first meal. Family jests, suggestions on what activities should fill the last of the day’s light. Another vote for Quidditch (this time lead by Ron), another 30 minutes with Fred’s hand glued to your thigh, another perfect afternoon in the presence of those you loved most.
But each moment of the day had proved to be the repeated chapters of a misprint copy and you were really starting to get sick of the ending. Despite hoping and longing and trying your best to prevent the inevitable, lunch was nothing special.
Soon it was over. Clean plates and new chores added to your daily yield’s expectations, only this time, the Weasley’s were assigned the pleasure of working together. Another lakeside job. Fred included.
And you? Of course you were excluded, excused from outdoor labor by your very valid need to pack. You’d be happy to in any other circumstance, ideally one with Fred’s legs hanging off the foot of his bed as he cornered you like a hostage against his mattress, keeping you far from your suitcase, turning what should take an hour into four.
Instead, much to the detriment of your attempt at quelling frustration, you were sprawled on your assigned cot in Ginny’s room, alone, unproductive, and more unstable than ever. Clothes scattered like cruel evidence on a crime scene, belongings stacked in a crude corner pile.
What task could possibly require every hand in the Weasley home outside of you?
It was vexing and incomprehensible, and though you did as you were told, you felt the gears shifting, tightening, begging for something to snap, for the whole affair to fall apart.
You were so uncomfortably angry.
Mind trapped in such a downward spiral, not even the call of your name from the returning party was enough to break you from your discontent. You stood and allowed your body to be summoned, but nothing could revive the optimist that had died alone instead of with your loved ones.
Your eyes locked with Fred’s as your feet found the last step on the spiral staircase. Split by a river of rushing bodies, loud demands. He took a single step in your direction, a clear attempt at remedying whatever foul mood the tragic course of events had catapulted you in, but the embers were trampled before they could dream of sparking.
His brother was in his face the same time Hermione slid into yours.
“There you are! I’ve been calling you, come here,” she latched onto your arm to drag you away.
“In a second.” you relented, a warning more than anything, but Hermione’s task for you took priority over decoding the danger, fingers of steel refusing to unfasten.
“It’s quick, promise.” she tried and through the noise and the rush of bustling people, you noticed Fred being pulled in the opposite direction.
A scream bubbled in the pit of your throat, burning and boiling until it was too heated to hold back.
So you didn’t
“ENOUGH!” you shouted, jerking from Hermione.
Chaos fell to silence, a first for the buzzing Burrow. A pond full of tidal ripples that never stilled, only clearing when washed away by an even bigger wave of fierce white water.
The force from your vocalized frustration froze everyone in their place, George pausing as Fred’s hand fell from his, Ginny catching herself on the nearest wall before she could topple over her armful of dishes. A sea of pin prick pupils and dumbstruck expressions, but you were too angry to care any longer. Guest of honor no longer, now you were a volcano, a pressurized vault of every discomfort you’d stored away, spilling over to flood the room.
“That is it!” you cried. “I am so sick and tired of being ordered around! Stumbling from one chore to the next when ALL I WANTED was to spend ONE LAST DAY together! All day it’s been just work, work, work, tiring me out so that I can’t have the ONLY THING I want. ONE BLOODY DAY! I can’t take it anymore!”
It was draining, your earnesty, the harsh reality of the day you’d been robbed of, but you knew it had to be said. No more secrets, no more pretending to be pleasant when you were so close to being shipped from the only home you’d ever known.
“Darlin-” you heard as Mrs. Weasley neared you cautiously, attempting to wade through the deadly storm you’d unleashed. However, Fred was quick to intervene.
“It’s okay, I’ve got her.” he pushed forward, steadying a hand against the stiff curve of your spine as he ushered you to the front door. “We’ll be right back!”
Stillness lingered long after your exit, an oddity that seemed to infect the Burrow’s surroundings as much as its inhabitants. The outer fields of rolling hills and patches of flooded marshes usually hide a chorus of frogs at this time, when the sky faded from blue to dusted orange to a dreamscape of dizzy pinks and purples just before the sun’s descent.
The silence made you angrier.
You pulled from Fred, groaning towards the dimming sky in place of bursting into tears. You really didn’t want to cry.
“C’mon, love,” he tried, reaching to get you back. “It’s alright, I’m here-”
“NO, it’s not!” you argued. “None of this is alright! And you should know more than anyone that it’s not! Today was supposed to be about us! About spending time with you before I lose everything!”
You were straining now, tensing every muscle in your face to hold back angry streams, but to no avail. They felt hot as they settled over your lower lash, pouring out the creases until finally, you gave in, allowing the softest sob to part from your trembling lips.
“Everything?” Fred repeated. “How could you be losing everything when the outcome from this is your dream career?”
“It doesn’t matter,” you refuted, back turned. “Not without you, without all of this. Not when I have to count down the months in between visits for the next four years.”
“But everything will still be here when you get back,” Fred tried. “I doubt much will change. You know I’m not going anywhere.”
He was right, and yet, words of wisdom weren’t enough to penetrate the impending doom clouding your brain, raining on every optimistic thought that entered.
You would still miss his next few birthdays. And he yours. Special events and more crucially, the smaller moments that made every day worth waking for. Moving meant returning to sleeping alone. And Merlin, you hated sleeping alone.
“It doesn’t matter,” you whispered, dejected and devoid of any sort of relief. Only ache and melancholy, no relief. No cure.
You resisted at first when Fred’s hands returned to you, settling on your hips, curling around the points of your pelvis where they had claimed their place long ago. He spun you, gently, working your frame around until you head, pointed down towards the flattened grass under your flats, pressed against the soft material of his shirt, stabilized by the firmness of his chest as he pulled you close.
You didn’t realize how badly you needed to be held until you were leaning against him, tears bleeding into cotton, staining the fabric damper, darker shade. Sorrow, too intense to be contained in one body now split between two, diffusing during a moment of much deserved respite.
“I’m so sorry, lovely,” Fred murmured, his chin atop your head. “And I do understand how much today was supposed to mean. You know that’s all I wanted, to be with you and I can’t express to you how much I wish we could go back and change how this turned out.”
You sighed through a defeated “Me too,” Helpless and longing. “Now the day’s over and I hardly got to see you.”
Humming in disagreement, you felt him shift.
“Well, it’s not entirely over and there might be something I need to show you...”
You pulled again, creating enough distance to keep him safe from the dreadful rise of irritation you were dangerously close to submitting to. Again.
“Seriously?” you huffed.
“Seriously.”
“Right now? Are you joking?”
“It is quite literally physically impossible for me to be any more serious.”
This time, Fred turned from you, setting out on a trek up towards the edge of the freshly mown lawn, only pausing to gesture your follow with a tilt of his head.
“You coming?”
Bemoaning, you trotted to his position until you were at his side, entirely at the mercy of his navigation to some mystery that he was convinced would restore the ruined day. You refused his hand when he offered it, favoring crossing your fists across your chest. He knew it wasn’t personal, knew that you trusted him enough to let him lead you through a hurricane. And now, he was about to work his mending magic once again. Flex his fixing sword.
He could hear his imminent success in your gasp as you spotted it. Watching closely as you neared the surprise, the very reason behind his overly extended absences.
A lakeside transformed into a dance floor made for the sole purpose of celebrating. Literally, the waves had been smoothed and solidified enough for a dining table to rest atop the glassy surface as if it were pavement. Big enough for all your friends and decorated with the fancy cloth Mrs. Weasley only broke out for special occasions. Reeds curled up the wooden legs, lights sparkled in the branches of the trees surroundings, and looked like it had been plucked straight out of a painting.
Memories flooded in as you stroked the rough bark, of a night as still as this one where you and Fred first escaped from the sleepy confinements of the Burrow, of sweet words and sweeter caresses that eventually drew out a shared confession.
Fred took your awe as a sign of dismantled aggression, an invitation to step forward and reoffer his hand. This time you took it, daring to step out on the water and shaking your head when your toes weren’t immediately soggy from an ambush of cool waves and grimy from sediment.
“We’ve been working on it all day,” Fred grinned, joining you atop water. “This part was my own personal touch.”
“We?” you questioned, turning to stare up at him as he nodded.
“I’m not the only one that knows how much today meant to you. That’s why we’ve been taking turns to slip away, to contribute to this. They wanted to make it special for you. Worked all day so we could spend the night together, celebrating our favorite future Healer. Tried to fix it up just how you’d like it. They really wanted it to be a nice surprise, though I did warn them. The last thing I wanted was to make you upset.”
You could only imagine how elaborate such a plan must’ve been to pull this off. How much work such a feat had required. Everything made sense now, ire tumbling off your shoulders and yet, you began to feel something much worse. Horrible guilt.
“I feel terrible.” you wilted.
Fred only shrugged.
“You shouldn’t. Only for scaring the bloody life out of everyone, but honestly, that’s more on them. I had a feeling this would happen. They really should’ve listened to me,” Fred laughed. “I don’t think Mum’s seen you that angry since we were kids.”
“I don’t think I’ve gotten that angry since we were kids,” you admitted. “You’ve mastered the art of calming me down.”
“It’s easy, I’d do anything to stay your menace.”
A grin wormed its way back onto your face, the same you’d woken up with and pressed into his neck earlier, back at the shop. For a day so lost to time, you’d sure managed to make off with so many new memories to keep you warm for the lonesome nights to come. Perhaps the waste wasn’t as severe as you expected, not when you were smitten for someone who profited off of pleasure, who valued your happiness at a price no high-lifer could afford.
“Thank you.”
Fred’s arm wrapped around your neck as you gazed up together, the night settled in enough for the stars to start twinkling into existence.
“You remember the last time we were here?” he whispered.
Of course you did.
It had been earlier that summer, the night you finally returned from war. A celebration of your survival, first with your loved ones who all drank themselves silly and then with him, far enough from the house that Fred felt at ease enough to show you how much he loved you without interruption, pressed against the trunk of the tree to your right.
The proximity allowed you to visualize it as if it was playing out all over again, right before your eyes. Hands sipping under fabric, yours tangling in his hair, a rapid blur of bodies clashing with all the fervor withheld in times of all-consuming fear. All the overwhelming gratitude you’d been ecstatic to express.
“Only too well,” you answered. “One of the best nights of my life.”
“We could relive it, make up for today,” Fred suggested, tugging you until you were parallel to the thick wooden torso. Any closer and you’d be against it. “I doubt anyone is coming to find us… what do you say?”
The offer was tempting as the ease of leaning back would hardly be a focused motion. You closed your eyes as he leaned in, enticing you with hot breath against your top lip and a thumb smoothing over the bottom, coaxing you open.
But your mind couldn’t shake away the disturbance of who you’d left behind, all likely rolling in graves they had dug with shovels they now regretted buying. Plots of heavy dirt only you could free them from.
“I think we need to get back.”
Fred was smiling when you opened your eyes, pecking the center of your forehead in agreement.
“Your future patients will be lucky to have such a thoughtful caretaker.”
Contrary to your justified chagrin, you were welcomed upon return, the remainder of the Weasley’s gathered on the lawn in the sort of special organized formation you still weren’t convinced you deserved.
“Surprise?” Ginny joked, a brave attempt to lighten any remnants of your sour mood, though it was no longer necessary thanks to your boyfriend.
Your responding chuckle was enough to assure them that the storm had passed.
“Thank you, all of you.” your eyes danced around the small crowd. “I’m really sorry I spoiled it, reacting the way I did.”
“It’s us that should be sorry,” spoke Hermione who was stable since your outburst. “Fred warned us.”
“Reckon it’s the last time you lot ignore my advice.”
“That’s unlikely.” Harry responded, as a frequent victim of the twins' trickery in the past.
“I don’t know,” countered Ron, another victim, though he’d take the receiving end of another hundred pranks to avoid another bout of your wrath. “I forgot how scary you get when you’re mad.”
“It’s not a problem, deary,” Mrs. Weasley mused as she neared you, pulling you into her side for her signature motherly embrace. “We’re just glad you liked it.”
“I do, I really do.” you promised.
The confirmation lulled Ron from the herd as he conjured nearby plates into his grip, intent on being stuffed with his mother’s fine feast within the next hour.
“Then shall we? I’m starving.”
Porcelain clattered as Hermione elbowed him in the gut, but his eagerness amused you into a gentle laugh, an invitation for the celebration to commence.
“Yes, let’s head down.”
While you weren’t expected to help after your doozy of a day, you were finally allowed to carry one of the many platters Mrs. Weasley had prepared after much assurance.
The night that followed was one of your favorites, even as it occurred, free from the hindsight that you knew you’d gain later on, living through each surprise exactly as it had been intended.
Resounding croaks of the frogs you so missed returned as you ate, undoubtedly one of Mrs. Weasley’s finest meals in all the years you’d been so lucky to know her and full of all of your favorites.
And for the first time all day, the anxious anticipation, the waiting and counting down the remainder of your seconds had dissipated in the moment. Instead, you revealed in the jubilation, even long after dinner as the night got older and morning returned.
Mrs. Weasley retired with a quick kiss to your cheek, Mr. Weasley close behind her after gifting the party with his occupation's latest discovery. Muggle liquor to accompany an assortment of meads and wines that he promised to omit mentioning to his wife as long as he didn’t wake to a mess in the morning.
The drinks only intensified the growing warmth in your belly, instilled faith in your departure, that everything would be waiting upon your return.
You lasted some good hours, new excitement blooming now that you were utterly unrestricted by your hesitance to go. You babbled about school and the past and the possibilities of the coming future until your friends began slowing, collapsing on the grass like goats after a scare, coupled and cozied in various human piles.
An opportune moment for Fred to lure you away.
You snuck up the stairs with the grace of an hour old foal, laughing and tripping over each step until you were safely confined to his room. A room that was noticeably absent of his twin.
“He’s back at the flat,” Fred supplied, kicking off his shoes as he offered you water to wash down the anti-hangover sweet, pulling open the twisted wrapper of his own. “Told me to wish you luck in France.”
“Tell him thanks for me,” you grinned, using the last of your focus to make a concentrated effort at remembering the wand movement for the muffling spell. You joined him once you were satisfied, hands landing on each of his bent knees as you hovered above his seated position at the side of his bed. “I’m sure he’ll miss having to deal with us.”
“Ah! That reminds me,” Fred grinned, hand reaching behind you to dig through the top drawer of his nightstand, procuring a box of small pills that you recognized instantly.
A perfect replication of your sketch, packaged all professionally in the twin’s usual brand, deep purple and bright orange, though you were sure this invention would remain off their shelves. You were so touched, you felt like crying, an urge only worsened by your near-drunken state.
“How?” you uttered, the only word you could manage, box turning over in your fingers as you clutched it like precious loot.
“I handed off the instructions to George once you figured it out, cashed in a favor so he’d speed produce it for me, though honestly he was happy to if it meant making the transition easier. Couldn’t bear to let you leave without taking some of me with you.”
The box fell from your hands as you looked back up at him, discarded in the middle of the floor where you’d be able to retrieve it when you would be unavoidably, hastily packing come morning.
“You’re amazing.” you praised.
“You deserve it.”
Fred’s hand traced their way up your legs and to your waist as you reached for the buttons of his shirt, working through a good chunk of them as his lips finally, eagerly found yours.
It was by sheer dumb luck that you made it to the train on time, with the effects of the late night caught up to you and the horrified rush of packing mere minutes before you were expected to leave. If it weren’t for several expander charms, your suitcase would’ve had no chance at closing and if it wasn’t for Fred aiding you every speedy step of the way, your chance of making it to school would’ve been gone.
Not to mention the miraculous powers of the hangover cure that kept you sane throughout the entire turbulent process.
The departure time was so early, only Fred was awake and coherent enough to join you.
He refused to let you carry anymore than your handbag and when the final whistle pierced through the dense morning fog, he held you close until the very last minute, peppering every part of your face with kisses until you’d have to be foolish to forget what it felt like.
After your last I love you’s, you expected to be unhappier as you gazed at him through the window of your single compartment, but all you felt was light. Warmth and comfort and excitement for the promising prospects that lay ahead.
You didn’t leave alone.
You left with the best support the world could provide any simple girl. The best support system any person could be granted.
And that was enough to hold you over until Fred could again.
Hiiii!! Your writing is genuinely so good and I wanted to request a Fred Weasley fic w/ a female reader who's usually the sweetest person and is slow to anger, but when she is mad it's really freaking scary? It could be a drabble or headcanons, but no pressure at all <3 tysm!!
Hi lovely!!
Thank you so much for the kind words, it means so much!! I swear I’m not ignoring your ask and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to respond. I wanted to give you sneak peak on what I’ve been working on (I ended up giving it a plot so it’s way longer than a drabble lol). I had terrible writers block for the better part of last year from so many life changes, but I’m back and so determined to finish editing it and have it out hopefully by the end of the week, it’s not even funny. Hope it’s close to what you wanted (the anger comes in later)! 💜
synopsis: in which peter's strange new habits of avoidance starts making you question whether he even loves you anymore
warnings: very angsty, accidental avoidance, hurt/comfort, lots of miscommunication, r is refered to as a female, mentions of parental loss, peter screws up, then he fixes it, happy ending
request: Hey!! I begging you …Please please pleaseee make a series of your one shot (where do we go now)…pretty please because I'm in love with your work 😭😭❤❤
word count: 17k
masterlist
a/n: I finally did it! This is technically a sequel to Where Do We Go Now and while I do recommend reading that first, this can an totally be read by itself. When I say this took me literal years to write... She's a little jumbled, but I am so proud that it's finally finished. I have one more addition to this little series so be on the look out for that! Can't say when it's coming out though, that's the university life. I'm working on requests in the meantime. Love y'all!
Peter was lying to you.
You weren’t sure what he was hiding. It wasn’t as if you didn’t already know all of his secrets, you and Peter must’ve bore your souls to each other thousands of times over the course of your steady three year relationship (not including the five years you two were both merely dust on the surface of Titan). But something was amiss, that much you were sure of.
The steady flow of air beneath you did nothing to calm your fears as you lamented all your worries to Happy within one of your father’s jets. You had thought about the regression over so many times now, trying to figure out what you had done, that you managed to get it out quickly before heavy sobs filled the air and tears rushed down flushed cheeks.
Of all the directions your European senior trip could’ve taken, being picked up early due to complications made by elemental, malicious creatures was not one you could’ve predicted, though by now you should’ve expected the lack of normalcy in your life. As Tony Stark’s daughter, your life overflowed with such mysteries, but you’d always had Peter to fight beside you.
His new found absence in your life had ripped fresh tears in the wounds that originated from losing your father and you had thought were stitched closed long ago. They were now ironically reopened by the very person who helped sew you back together. The dichotomy of your once boyfriend was undoubtedly the strangest occurrence of your life as Peter passed aside his role of healer for a stone to sharpen his hidden dagger. All you knew now was pain, caused by the betrayal and loss of the last person you had any trust in. Deep trust.
And perhaps that’s what hurt most about losing your Peter. Half of you had gone with him, a critical half that you couldn’t comprehend living without. He took with him the last reminders of your late father.
“He doesn’t want me anymore, Happy,” you grieved. “I don’t know what I did, but obviously I’m not good enough for him anymore. H-he’s finally found someone better for him and getting everything I can’t give him.”
“Whoa, hold on a minute,” Happy stared, leaning in to place a grounding hand on your shoulder as if to pull you from the depths of your despair. “How do you even know if Peter’s cheating?”
Truthfully, you had no idea what Peter was up to and since he didn’t bother sharing, your overactive mind worked to connect each twisted piece that formed the knife he had stabbed you with when he refused to explain himself.
“I just know.” your chest heaved with such sadness, you could feel it spreading like a parasite, threatening to infect all those around you.
You seemed to slip from his mind overnight, demoted from girlfriend to a passing thought. You weren’t worth his time. But he still consumed your every moment, wrapped tight and refusing to let go.
Miraculously, Happy refused to succumb to such an emotion, sticking to the brighter mindset you had long given up.
“Do you think you could take it from the top?” he requested, his fingers untangling a few of your front most strands as they ran through your hair just as your father used to do when you needed soothing. Happy wasn’t an affectionate person by nature, but he could tap into his paternal side when he felt called to it. “Tell me slower this time. I want to know everything that you know.”
You sniffled and nodded, taking in a deep breath as you closed your eyes and found the beginning of your story. You neglected to share any of your doubts that Happy could find any other reasonable angle and though you blamed the habit on the nuisance of being a broken girl, the real reason heated up your most jagged edges like a faint beam of pure light. An emotion you didn’t want the pain of feeling. Hope.
It all began in a place so many stories opened: JFK International Airport where you and Peter were just one of thousands of couples seeking the sweet refuge of the summer vacation that you had been dreaming of since the end of your fated battle with Thanos and the unexpected loss of your father.
Peter had been your rock through the horrid process of accepting your new reality, helping you every night when all you could do was sob and bringing the last bit of light into your life. He even went as far as saving you when you were on the brink of crossing the bridge to the world beyond, desperate to bring your father back as grief had pushed you past the point of acceptance. You were so close to slipping through his fingers, so convinced that you could never make Peter as happy as he made you. You would never be enough for him. And everyday since then, he was determined to show you how wrong you had been.
Peter loved you so completely that you physically couldn’t form any doubts. You had never experienced a stronger certainty of anything in your whole life. He made sure you knew in every kiss you shared, every night that the two of you spent wrapped up in each other, and every one of your rants he listened to (genuinely listened to) until you were crying either from contagious laughter from his anecdotes or the intensity of your talk reopened such sadness only his hugs could cure. Even then he wouldn't relinquish his hold until you felt sounder than a bird’s sonnet.
There were times when you could go days without thinking of your late father, too enamored by life to feel the weight of survivor’s guilt. And then there were the days when you didn’t feel like being a person anymore. Peter refused to leave you when you were down, healing you with an assortment of your favorite treats until you started to feel better.
Though he assured you that you had no debt to pay, you showed up for him in the same way he did for you, as long as your vigilante aliases didn't get in the way. Not out of indebtedness, but out of love. He was always there for you when you needed him and you tried to be there for him in turn whenever your vigilante activities didn’t get in the way. You curled into him whenever he requested a Star Wars marathon, leaning into his chest to feel the vibrations of his voice as he never ran out of facts to share from his endless vault of ever expansive nerd knowledge. You also played nurse, tended to his wounds whenever small city brawls got so intense that even their arachnid mediator left with a few scratches, comforting him with a kiss or two when you were finished. You played with his Legos instead of doing your homework, only studying whenever MJ forced you to as inviting Ned only resulted in building competitions that you didn’t mind losing.
It was hardly comprehensible, how the love of your dreams started to go so dismally awry. One minute Peter was always by your side, then the next he couldn’t even spend a single second around you. Like he was a disinterested kid, running away. Like he was running from you.
From hours of lonesome overthinking, you were able to trace it all back to your class’ plane ride to Europe.
It had been a picture perfect memory before Peter tainted it with the pain of his elusiveness. The sun had been shining, the birds singing up a choric ensemble, and your hand was slotted in his in the backseat of one of your father’s favorite cars as Happy drove you to the airport. Technically the vehicle was his now, a gift from Tony Stark’s will, but he kept it at the campus with the rest of Tony’s collection. You weren’t exactly sure what it meant to him, why your father wanted to leave it in Happy’s name, but it felt right.
The two of you had rekindled in the past year since your incident, forming a bond stronger than your former chauffeur/client relationship. While you had always been close by the loosest definition, he became something of a guidance figure for you. At least that’s what your school thought as his number was the one to call if you ever got into trouble. He didn’t replace your dad, nor did he try to, but he came as close as any replacement.
Call me if you need anything,” Happy made you promise as Peter pulled your luggage from the trunk. “And I mean anything. If you want to come back, if you need to talk, if you need someone to convert Euros to Dollars…”
“I think Google is actually the first person I would consult to convert currency.” you laughed.
“You know what I mean.”
You confirmed with a brief nod, smiling as you leaned in for one last hug. You know exactly what he was really trying to profess.
“I promise, Happy. I’ll text you everyday.”
He let you go with a hum of satisfaction, waving to you and Peter as you ducked beyond the glass doors of the main airport entrance and hurried to meet with the rest of your class. You were both excited for your well deserved break from saving everyday citizens on the busy streets of New York.
It was then that you noticed it, Peter’s strange avoidance tactics.
One minute, your seat was slotted beside his and Ned until the next second, your whole plane was shuffled for reasons out of your control and you ended up by Brad Davis. While Peter swore he hadn’t done it on purpose, he had been the cause of the entire kerfuffle. But you had believed him then for he hadn’t given you a reason not to.
At least Brad was very nice, better than being next to Flash, and with nothing else to do you agreed to watch a movie with him on his dual headphone adapter though you were adamant that it had to be a comedy rather than his choice of the newly released Tony Stark tribute film. You wished Peter were there to pull out the ache the sight of it had lodged into your chest, but he was forced to sit next to Mr. Harrington two rows behind you.
You were relieved when you finally arrived in Venice, glad to be able to be next to Peter again, but there was something off. He wasn’t as receptive as usual to your conversation and though he still wore a bubbly smile, it wasn’t as bright as usual. You tried not to think about it too hard, especially as your class passed under a huge technical banner that proudly displayed your father’s image in remembrance. He followed you everywhere.
And then he was back. The old Peter. Your Peter who took your hand and gave you an expression of understanding as he squeezed your palm.
He seemed better that night and the following day as you all explored the beauty of Venice.
Though you were forced to sneak out before your chaperones woke up, the two of you shared the night as you always did, cramped together in one of the creaky wooden beds of your partially submerged Venice hotel. It wasn’t the most comfortable of accommodations, but it was close to sharing Peter’s twin bed back home and he effortlessly made every moment of it better.
He must’ve taken hundreds of photos of you, encouraging you to pose beside just about every landmark in the city and even random sites with no historical importance. You laughed as he directed each of your poses, some silly and some more intentional, until you got so tired of being the only model that you refused to pose without a few photos of him for your own Parker portfolio. Those were the best of the bunch, you on the left and Peter to your right with the sea behind you glinting flecks of the sun as Peter’s lips connected to your cheek and a grin blossoming on your face.
You weren’t sure if he tried to slip away from you purposefully, but at some point your cute photo shoot ended and you walked aimlessly along one of the docks with no idea as to where Peter had gone. You didn’t get a chance to ask him after he had reappeared many moments later as the attacks broke out only seconds after you found him.
The once calm canals quickly bubbled and swirled as a strange monster arose from the heart of the sea. It was obvious by the roar of its waves that it sought to wrought destruction upon the city and as the upstanding citizen you were born to be, you instinctively rushed to stop it with your powers. It was Peter that stopped you, as an unrecognizable emotion pooled in the centers of his dark chocolate eyes that you only got glints of as he urged you to protect your classmates instead of fight the beast.
“It’s too dangerous,” he muttered to you lowly, careful not to let anyone hear him besides you. “We can’t fight it here. Our powers are too recognizable. If we fight that thing, we could be risking our identities.”
“Are you actually suggesting that we run away?” you had an incredulous look upon your face.
“I’m saying that we don’t have a choice.”
You weren’t able to debate with him much longer as a large wave separated the two of you, but you saw the sense in his argument and kept a low profile by assisting your classmates in fleeing the scene. You expected Peter had done the same with whoever had been left on his side, though you weren’t able to see much of it as you were busy keeping anyone you could reach safe from the waves with the discrete help of some of your powers.
Later in the day, only after your entire class had made it back to the now soaked walls of your hotel with comical amounts of water in your shoes and sodden socks, you convened with Peter to ask him how he was in the aftermath of the attack. You noticed his lack of a straightforward answer and each tactic he used to turn the discussion to you instead, but you refrained from saying anything. Not out in the open where any of your classmates could easily hear you. Instead you talked about the disturbingly intimate relationship forming between his Aunt May and Happy which Peter had discovered while on the phone with her and tuned into the television program your friends were all engrossed in.
Every news outlet was obsessed with the same new hero; Mysterio, as they dubbed him, who was clad in metal armor and equipped with misty green powers that were as mysterious as the name suggested.
“See baby,” Peter pointed to the television that prompted his image as he reached for one of your hanging hands. “There are people here to handle it. We can relax for now.”
“Right...” you agreed, shooting him a loving grin as he brought your entwined hands to his lips and pecked the back of your hand, staring at you with the same adoration he held for you from when you had first met on that fateful trip to Germany. He put to rest any of your doubts of his honestly, blowing them out like candles on a birthday cake. You held a certain suspicion for the new hero, Mysterio, who had come into play at just the right moment as you couldn’t shake the feeling that sinister forces were at work. But as Peter put it, your vacation was meant to be a break from any vigilantism and so a break is what you would get.
You snuck over to Peter’s room again once everyone had settled in their rooms, but instead of opening when you knocked your secret code, you were met with Peter’s shaking voice before you could even touch the handle.
“Uhh don’t come in!” your boyfriend’s muffled voice shouted through the door.
“Peter? Is something wrong?” you wondered. It wasn’t like him to shut you out so blatantly.
“No! It’s just uhh Ned! He’s super sick!”
“I thought I heard Betty say he was asleep.” you wondered, rightfully confused.
“Right, he was, but now he’s awake and barfing everywhere! I really think you should just go to bed tonight.”
“Oh-okay,” you stuttered. You had never seen, or rather heard Peter behave like this as it wasn’t like him to blow you off, but with a sigh and a weight growing in your heart you began to shuffle back to your room as the cuffs of your pajama pants grew damp from the puddles pooled between the wooden floorboards. “Good night then.”
There was no reply.
“That’s when I think he started.” you explained to Happy, wiping another streak of tears from your face on the sleeve of your robe.
“When he started what?” Happy asked, rising only to retrieve the mug he had warmed for you from the jet’s coffee maker. He thought the story process would be easier with a cup of hot chocolate, just like when you were a kid. You inhaled deeply as Happy handed you the hot drink, filling your lungs with the bittersweet scent of his homemade mix as you recalled a happier time when you could share a cup with your father.
Though you had thought it over several times in the past few days, you hadn’t told anyone your suspicions. But there was no other explanation for Peter’s behavior and you couldn’t think of another way to lose a lover so quickly.
“That’s when he started cheating.” you choked on your words, but they stung all the same. Waiting, you had expected Happy to say anything to refute your statement. Though he and Peter had a rough start, he had grown fond of the boy, found enough that he would’ve pushed the idea of infidelity out of your head if he thought any differently.
But he didn’t. Instead he only asked one question. “What makes you say that?”
You jumped to several answers, rambling again about how Peter was always avoiding you now. He was reserved around you and constantly feeding you obviously fabricated excuses, all the typical cheating symptoms.
“One of my classmates even told me he saw Peter with another woman!” you pouted. That’s when Happy motioned for you to stop.
“Tell me about the rest of the trip.” he directed, leaving no indication as to whether he believed you or not. You supposed it was enough that he was willing to listen in the first place.
Grateful to get it all off your chest, you continued your summer trip summary with the remainder of your stay in Venice and the aftermath of your boyfriend's first real sign of rejection. To his credit, Peter made up for his dismissal by visiting you much later in the night.
Sleep never greeted you as you were cursed to stare into the dark abyss of night in the cold sheets, haunted by the echo of a constant drip from the corner of your room that had already filled an entire waste basket. You weren’t sure of the exact time stamp, but you knew it very late from the garbled conversation vocalized by a deeply unconscious Betty and the soft purrs from MJ’s motionless figure.
All you could think of was Peter and how you longed for his presence. His warmth would’ve soothed you to a peaceful slumber, whether he was curled up behind you with his arms around your waist or sprawled on top of you like a personified heated blanket, messy curls tickling your face. You just couldn’t seem to grasp why he was distancing himself all of a sudden. It was dizzying keeping up with his motives, loving then absent, back and forth until your head felt like it might implode from all the change in pressure. You knew that Peter loved you, he promised he always would. But what if something had changed?
You hadn’t been acting any differently, yet deep down you knew you were the one to blame for any unsteady maneuvers in your relationship. There were so many possibilities for why he might’ve been sick of you. Perhaps you were too clingy, always wanting and taking, but never giving anything back in return. Or maybe you had been too neglecting of a partner, paying attention to Peter whenever he had an issue, but always expecting him to heal you of yours. You hated to think it was because of your episodes of all encompassing misery. Remembering the many times when Peter had shown no disdain towards your depression was growing more difficult by the second.
You tried to stop your thoughts from crossing the line between suspicion and insanity, but they were stronger than your will as you realized with a start that the doting Peter who kissed away your tears and met your dark times with light might’ve evaporated before you, burned out by how exasperating it was to love you. He’d grown sick of you and how much work it took to be with someone like you. What if he had held your hand too many times? What if he didn’t want to console you anymore? What if all Peter Parker wanted now was a normal girlfriend with a dad who was still alive-
There was a soft knock on your door before it creaked open, slowly revealing the very boy of your thoughts as Peter tiptoed to your bed as silent as possible, only pausing when Betty stirred though with a grumble about her Ned, but it was obvious she was still fast asleep.
“Hey,” he whispered once he reached you, settling on the side of your bed and helping you sit up as he reached to pull your hands. “You’re not asleep?”
“I’m not very tired.” you admitted as you found yourself hiding the real reason for your incurable insomnia. If what you hypothesized was true, Peter wouldn’t want to hear about your troubles nor how he was the source of them. Then again, if they were true, he probably wouldn’t be seated before you now.
“Me either,” Peter grinned as he leaned forward to kiss your brow, settling the thin lines that corroded your forehead, a common trait you held when you were tired or particularly worrisome. You tried to suppress the fluttery feeling that arose in your stomach as he did so, reminding the butterflies that there was a chance it was all for show. That soon enough Peter Parker would no longer be yours to hold and it was entirely your fault. “You’re feeling okay right? You didn’t get sick from all the seawater?”
“I’m fine,” you assured him. “I mean as fine as you can be after a monster attack like that.”
“Good thing Mysterio was there, right?”
“I don’t know, I feel like we should’ve at least tried to help.”
You didn’t understand the expression that took over Peter’s face, a mix of worry and disappointment that you had a feeling was aimed at you.
“Are you okay?” you returned the question. “You’ve been acting kind of strange lately.”
“Yeah, yeah I’m great. Totally fine.”
“You would tell me if something was wrong though, right?” you prompted, providing him the opportunity to confide in you once more.
“Of course,” Peter affirmed and you relented the topic as one of his hands slid up the length of your pajama-covered thigh to meet the skin beneath the shirt you had on, cupping your waist as he pulled you closer. “Did you steal this from my suitcase?” He pulled at the fabric with his thumb and index finger.
You looked down at your T-shirt, an old heather gray cotton fit with some science pun Peter found amusing splayed across your chest. You smiled at the memory of first seeing it on Peter, back when you were just two kids in love.
“You’re closet actually,” you admitted. “Is that okay?”
Peter nodded, shifting so that he could be closer to you still.
“It looks better on you,” he breathed. “Pun and all.”
And then, with a single glance of confirmation so that he was sure you wanted it as much as he did, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. Immediately all of your worries and self consciousness was swallowed up in it and a glow like the first ray of sun radiated inside of your gut as you gently threw your hands around his neck and pulled him in closer. You weren’t sure how long it lasted, likely only a few minutes before Peter was up on his feet again and crossing back to his own room.
“I love you.” he whispered as he made his way to the door, shooting you an expression that made it seem like he really meant it. He was out of the room before you could say it back, before you even had the chance to ask him to stay, mumbling how much you loved him to an empty room that swallowed the words.
None of the following events allowed you any sense of clarity as Peter continued to juggle showering you with affection and ignoring you completely. He seemed innocent when he was with you, kissing you as if you were still the love of his life. But he could never stay.
Every morning was a struggle as you consistently got up late, tired from delayed jet lag and being up until the early hours of morning thinking endlessly about Peter until all you could do was review every point you had already made, branding them on your skull like a burning promise.
The expectation up until your last morning in Venice was poorly planned excursions and more disappointing hostiles that barely had beds. You were as shocked as all your other classmates when a lavish black tour bus awaited you along with a new itinerary that was a thousand times more preferable than the one Mr. Harrington had created. However, the greatest shock of all was the lack of enthusiasm from your aloof boyfriend for a reason he didn’t seem comfortable sharing when you inquired. All he gave you was a classic Parker grin and a kiss on the cheek.
With a bus so grandiose, everyone could afford their own row, though some couples stayed partnered together. You observed Ned and Betty, snuggled close like two sardines in a dish and craved for the same warmth for your own relationship, but of course Peter denied you such a simple pleasure. He urged you to take advantage of the space, promising the extra seat would be ideal for you to catch up on sleep during the long drive to Prague.
You didn’t argue as the familiar pang of melancholy lurched in your chest. You also didn’t bother mentioning the symptom to Peter. What was the point in forcing the hand of someone who so clearly wanted to be all alone?
Making the most of your shitty situation, you figured finding more of Peter’s red flags was behind you until Brad Davis slid into the seat next to you after a brief pit stop. He cleared his throat as the bus started off again, acting as if his presence wasn’t unwarranted.
If you couldn’t sit next to Peter, you certainly didn’t want to converse with Brad as deep down you still saw him as the scrawny freshman who had a peculiar talent for wetting his skinny jeans. But as you popped out an earbud to ask him for privacy, he made a claim so outlandish that it begged for your immediate attention.
“Peter’s cheating on you.” he avowed.
“What?” you muttered, attempting to keep a cool demeanor though your entire world was shattering.
“You heard me. I just saw him stripping for this random blonde lady.”
You couldn't believe it. Peter wasn’t capable of such an act, or at least, he hadn’t seemed like it. You weren’t sure what lines he was willing to cross now.
“I’m sure this all has to be a misunderstanding.” you tried to reason, but the more you thought about it the more the evidence and logic all clicked into place.
“Here, I have a picture.” Brad pulled out his phone and tilted the screen away from you, supposedly typing in his passcode until sudden turbulence whipped it out of his hand and he dove out of his seat to retrieve it.
You looked around, trying to locate the source of the disturbance until you were redirected by your boyfriend pointing out a group of baby mountain goats on one of the snowy slopes of the surrounding mountain sides.
Brad returned beside you when it had seemingly passed, tapping on his photo album and scrolling until he had the proof, only you didn’t see any photos of Peter. There were several from the trip, all of the places you had visited, but none that depicted the heinous act.
Brad left your space soon after you discovered a rather voyeuristic picture of your Venice poses for Peter in his camera roll. But the lasting damage was setting in as every thought to traverse your mind was centered around the possibility that Peter really was cheating on you.
It certainly explained his recent elusiveness and why he had switched so suddenly. You couldn’t blame him, dating only you for so long must’ve been so exhausting. You know you were too much in every aspect. You came with too much baggage, you made every situation too complicated, and you required too much emotional consolidation. There were virtually no benefits in being with you. Of course Peter gave up on it.
The thought of it all being gone was almost too much to bear. But you’d been through worse. You lost your father, the best person you had ever known, to a battle you had planned to sacrifice yourself for. Maybe it was simply time. Maybe you weren’t worth it anymore.
You were so consumed by your train of thought that you didn’t notice Peter’s easily visible phone screen a few rows ahead of you where he was obsessively researching romantic spots in Prague to bring you, his beloved, the only girl he dreamed about ravishing. He conjured up picturesque scenarios for each location, each ending with the same passionate gesture he was waiting to spoil you with.
As you arrived in Prague, you claimed your new two bed suite on one of the upper floors. It was one of the nicest buildings you had ever been in, close to meeting the luxury you grew up around as the daughter of the great Tony Stark. You didn’t miss the mural that the city had erected for him, a beautiful painting colored with the rainbow of expression that used to be his face. Sniffling, you tried to hold back stinging tears.
Peter was hardly around for the rest of the trip, swinging in and out of his usual personality. One minute he was promising to sit beside you during the four hour opera your teachers forced you to attend, then the next he was dodging out of the theater with an excuse you knew was pure bullshit. In his absence, Brad took it upon himself to fill the void, but you couldn’t tolerate his ego. Instead you fled from the scene, failing to ignore Susan Yang theorizing that your boyfriend was in fact on call as a male escort.
With no motivation to change out of your dress nor return to your room, you resorted to roaming around the city, trying not to think of how ecstatic Peter had seemed when you were wearing it. He was the one who encouraged you to buy it in the first place, besotted by the pink tulle waterfalls that billowed below your waist. You’d felt so pretty at the time, confidence soaring. Now you just felt silly. A girl with crushed dreams and a broken heart.
You didn’t bother mentioning your trip to a local Czech bar to Happy, it didn’t support your claim in the slightest and it was a private moment you wanted all for yourself.
You had met a sweet local woman there, and while her kind words weren’t enough to fill the gaps Peter’s absence had left you with, they held a certain worth that weighed in your back pocket, waiting for their time to be spent.
“He just kept doing that, the whole time. Lying and running to get away from me,” your shoulders drooped as you neared the end of your story. “I’ve thought it out so many ways, trying so hard to make him innocent. But nothing else makes sense. He has to be cheating.”
“Did you see him last at the opera?” Happy wondered.
“No, we met up again that same night after the last attack,” you explained. “He asked me to walk with him and at first it seemed like everything was okay again. He was acting normal, but then he just ran off again. Fed me some excuse about making a mistake, whatever, I figured out the truth.
“That’s when I called you. I don’t think I can travel home on the same plane as all those guys. Not while this is happening. And honestly, the more I think about it, I don’t even blame him for wanting to get away from me.”
The crack in your voice was the first break of your pitiful facade. Like cards in a simple game, you started to reveal the truth at hand, that deep down you honestly felt deserving of this divine punishment. That Peter was no longer yours because you were no longer worthy of such a devoted partner.
“Hey,” Happy scolded, moving closer to grip your hands, just enough to squeeze some sense into your twisted mind. “You can’t think like that. That’s such a destructive mindset and it’s not true. Not in the slightest.”
You wiped your eyes, nodding as you took in his words.
“But tell me I’m wrong? What else could his actions signify other than he’s completely done with me? I mean you can’t guarantee anything.”
But the way Happy looked at you, not at all assuring, it hit you then that he knew exactly what was going on. And just like everyone else in your life, he hadn’t told you anything.
“You’re kidding.”
“Listen, I can’t say what he’s doing, it’s not my story to tell, but he’s not cheating on you. I mean, we’re talking about the boy who asked you to Prom with Legos!“ Happy chuckled softly, recalling the picture you had sent him after Peter’s unique proposal. “He’s so obsessed with you, he's just making some poor decisions lately.”
“With other women.”
Happy gave you a look, as if to say that despite what you had gathered on the situation, your judgement was too early to be based on reason.
“You don’t have to forgive him, that’s not something you ever have to do. And if that means you want me to take you home so you can move somewhere new, I’d be more than willing to assist you, but hear him out. When he’s ready to tell you, try to listen.”
“Fine,” you groaned, though the hurt you still felt from Peter’s assumed betrayal was rooted too deep to dissociate from one measly statement.
And how well could Happy even know Peter anyway? Hes spent the first year of your relationship resenting him for his daily nuisansicle calls and while you were his fucking girlfriend.
A sudden buzzing erupted from Happy’s pocket and as the man pulled out his phone, you felt yourself asking even though you already knew who was on the other side.
“Speak of the devil and he’ll call you from a random number,” he replied, smiling at you as he answered Peter’s call.
You didn’t hear their conversation, only that Peter had somehow ended up in a rural town in the Netherlands and needed immediate recovery.
What was he doing in a small town in Europe that was nowhere near any of the itinerary stops of your trip? Probably hooking up with some Dutch girl. But when you suggested that to Happy, in a joking way now that he had calmed you down, he shook his head.
It was a short flight to Peter’s mysterious location, only 20 minutes at most, but it felt much longer. Your nerves drug it out, taunting you with twisting theories as you tried to figure out what he could’ve been doing besides cheating on you. But you couldn’t come up with anything that held with his excuses. Nothing else made as much sense.
Happy asked you to stay on the ship, landing in a field of tulips that would’ve been picturesque if not for the circumstances.
You wondered if he expected you to relent, force yourself towards Peter and scream loud enough for your classmates across the continent to hear. No, you didn’t have the energy to scream nor the anger to fuel it. Everything was numb now and honestly you didn’t blame you. He could do so much better.
You were glad Happy had volunteered to go first, get a feel for Peter’s mood before you tore into him. Or cried, you had a lump in your throat that was getting harder and harder to swallow, especially as you could hear Peter just outside.
For a moment you felt sorry for him. He sounded scared, so riddled by paranoia that he forced a personal memory from Happy to confirm it was truly the man.
A funny memory as well and maybe if you had any humor left, you would’ve laughed. But your brain supplied a reason for his paranoid behavior that only supported your cheating theory and you sunk deeper into your sadness.
Tears streamed from your eyes when Peter and Happy finally boarded and you felt a pang of betrayal in the central cavity of your heart at the sight of that face. The one you had grown to love so deeply, the one who used to promise he'd take care of you and hardly struggled to keep it.
Peter’s face was filthy, blood and debris staining his cheeks and his clothes. He limped into the ship, body worn by wounds. But he straightened when he saw you, eyes almost as glossy as your own.
“Baby,” he spoke, the sight of you taking his breath away.
You stood from your seat, hovering by one of the back most walls of the plane. But you didn’t falter. You didn’t want to look weak in front of him. Weakness was the source of his deception. He wanted someone who could be strong.
You stopped him before he could near you.
“Don’t,” you warned, drying one of your cheeks with your palm, though it didn’t do much.
Peter did as you asked, pausing just in front of you. The pain in your voice was evident and he didn’t want to press your boundaries when you were like this.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly, treating you with the same gentleness he always did. But it was different this time because you knew it wasn’t real. “What’s going on?”
You shook your head, frustrated. How could he act so clueless? After being so obvious for so long. After leading you on at your lowest.
“You lied to me.”
Silence.
“I-“ Peter tried, but he couldn’t form an excuse. He didn’t want to, not anymore. “I did.”
“I just want the truth, Peter,” you begged, new tears falling down your face, following the path of those that had been swept away. “If you’re done with me, tell me now. End my suffering.”
“What?!” Peter exclaimed, taken aback, but before he could inquire further, Happy stepped into his role as mediator.
“Woah,” he raised his hands, stepping between the two of you, his head turned in your direction. “I thought we agreed to hear him out.”
“I did, right after his confession.”
“Confession of what?” Peter raised his voice so it would reach you over Happy.
“That you cheated,” you sobbed, twisting so you could see him as the words cascaded faster than your tears could fall. “That you don’t want me anymore.”
Mouth agape, Peter didn't know what to say.
His silence was only further confirmation for you. A man with nothing to hide would’ve jumped to console you, but he didn’t. He just stood, consumed by the shock of it all.
You lost all care for appearing strong as you cried, hands reaching out for Happy. You fell into the man, sobbing into his shoulder and worst of all, wishing it was your dad’s. The thought of him stung more than anything.
Tony was always prideful and confident, but he was also thoughtful of others. As his daughter, he raised you with his more nurturing qualities. A side of him that no one else was so lucky to see. That balance, that precision, maybe if you had inherited more of it, you wouldn’t have sent Peter crawling into the arms of a girl who did.
Happy wasn’t quick to embrace you, awkwardly patting your back instead before leaning into you. He wasn’t meant to be a father, but he understood he was all you had left. Or so you assumed.
Peter swallowed loudly, pained by your suffering and struggling to watch Happy’s attempt at calming you. You weren’t supposed to rely on your substitute father figure for such comfort. He should’ve been the one you chose to brace yourself against, pulling you up when you felt low and holding you until you remembered how loved you were, as any doting partner would.
He understood why you were so upset now. He didn’t consider lying about Night Monkey or his secretive attempt at heroism during your trip as decent grounds for a break up, especially considering how well you had known him after several blissful years together. But cheating? That certainly was.
He knew he owed you an apology for being so absent, but he never thought it would amount to this kind of an accusation. It was hard to understand how you could be so convinced when he’s done so much to remind you that he’s yours. He thought he did. The message had always come through in the past.
“I think we should revisit this later,” Happy stated. “With fresher eyes.”
It wasn’t the most unreasonable suggestion, you had been running on little sleep since taking notice of Peter’s suspicious signs. And you were in no condition for a tense confrontation, despite how much you wanted to move on.
But Peter had almost lost you once, not long ago. You’d been out of his sight and he had been out of your reach, but you found the antidote then, the will to live through the love that still lingered, the love you had for him.
He wasn’t about to let you slip again.
“No.”
Peter inched forward, catching sight of you as Happy turned in synchronization with your movements, matching looks of surprise etched on your faces.
“I think we need to figure this out now,” Peter continued. “There’s not enough time and obviously you’ve been waiting for this.”
“You can’t give it 20 minutes so everyone can calm down?” asked Happy, though you knew it was directed at you. You were the only one crying and you hadn’t considered how it might've affected him. “You need stitching, she needs some air, let’s pick this up later.”
Peter winced as Happy’s mention of the pain sent a sting spiraling, as if the mention refreshed his brain on the accident all over again. He’d been injured, badly, but his physical pain couldn’t compare to how he felt watching you suffer.
But you shook your head, stepping away to find your own ground again.
“Peter’s right,” you argued. “I want to hear what he has to say.”
“Peter’s actively bleeding right now, I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”
“I can treat it, stitch it,” you offered with a sniffle, willing the tears to stop so you get out each sentence in a coherent cadence. “I’m just as capable as you.”
It was true, you matched Happy’s first aid skills one to one.
Though it wasn’t for ideal reasons, Peter was grateful you’d hear him out, gazing at you with the same loving expression he always did. But you couldn’t meet his eyes, especially not when you knew everything had changed.
Instead you looked to Happy who sighed in defeat.
He always lost the battle when it was against the two of you. One former chauffeur versus two teenagers wasn’t fair in the slightest. He relented before he could lose, stopping the argument in its tracks.
“I’ll get the kit.” he offered, moving to the rear of the jet.
You and Peter settled in adjacent seats before long, Happy giving you space from the cockpit. He sat in the row before you, the tips of his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward to adjust to the position, making sure you had easy access to the expanse of his back where his wounds were the most severe.
You worked carefully behind him, wiping up blood with a damp cloth in order to be as gentle as possible. Like a father picking out the gravel from a scrapped knee, only Peter’s wounds were much worse than a fall on the pavement. As much as you hurt from what he had done, you didn’t want to cause him anymore pain, fingers working as diligently as possible without disturbing what could be left without modification from the improvised surgical wire on the tray table next to you. The deep red cuts were painful enough, you imagined.
“Jesus,” you cursed, pulling down the neckline of his shirt to reveal more of the nasty wound. “How did this even happen? You look like you got in a car accident.”
It was easier to communicate when he wasn’t looking at you, analyzing your every move and pretending he was the same as he had always been.
“Train actually,” Peter corrected only to inform, inhaling sharply at the uncomfortable sensation from the cloth. He tried to shift his focus elsewhere, narrowing in on his other senses like the feel of your soft working fingers and the hum of the plane as you hovered above the tulip field he had been rescued in. “That’s how I ended up here. It knocked me out in Berlin.”
“You went to Germany?” you questioned, well aware that the city was nowhere near anywhere your class had been staying. “And that doesn’t sound the least bit suspicious to you? I mean god, Susan Yang even told me you were a male escort. Do you know how hard that is? For everyone to think your boyfriend is cheating on you and then he starts running off to foreign countries and being so secretive that you begin to think it’s true.“
“You believe it?” Peter asked, not denying the allegations. The sting of the antiseptic you were dabbing on now with your fingers was messing with his mind. He couldn’t keep a straight expression, holding in pained groans and winces.
“It’s hard not to. You’ve been acting so strange lately, it’s like you’re a different person.”
Peter didn't reply, waiting for you to get the words of your chest you were so clearly holding in.
It took a second as you switched from cloth to needle, tying a knot in the fishing line before starting on the first of two parallel cuts. You worked efficiently, but with shaky hands as your heart beat wildly from the tension. It was good enough to get the job done and you tried to ease Peter’s pain with your powers as you worked.
“You’re never around anymore and when you are, you’re dodgy and don’t want to be around me. You don’t tell me things like you did a week ago and Brad even told me that he saw you with another woman.”
The theory stung worse than the needle punch. Peter thought he had averted that situation, deleting the damning evidence off of Brad’s phone while nearly assassinating the boy by accident, but he hadn’t thought of the possibility that Brad could’ve told you first. He’d been trying to steal you since your first flight together.
“Brad,” he cursed. “He’s been trying to steal you away from the start.”
“Brad’s not even the problem here Peter. It’s you, this change. Everything was perfect back in New York, but I feel like I don’t even know you anymore,” the tears started to brim as you lost control of your voice, pitched growing higher and cracks more frequent. You’re so relieved he can’t see you looking so pathetic. “And I- I feel like you don’t love me anymore.”
You inhaled deeply, frowning as you prepared for the end. “And the worst part is,” you stated, slowly. “I don’t even blame you.”
Peter straighted, turning to you as you dropped the needle into the open kit you had grabbed it from, a jab only halfway done. Your vision was blurred by your tears, preventing you from finishing the job anyway.
“What?”
You looked to the plane ceiling, fresh tears falling to your chin as you tried to hold back sobs. You didn’t meet his eyes, instead switching between gazing at the floor and closing your eyes whenever you raised your head to hold back the waterfall.
“I’m saying I get it, Peter. I get it. I get why you would want to distance yourself from me because it must be so exhausting to be around me and I’m sorry for that and I’ve always regretted that I can’t be that person for you. You deserve someone who can treat you that way after you’ve always been there for me and I just can’t do it back. Like what - what am I even worth to you?”
You’re not worth anything.
You didn’t give breath to the unspoken, only admitting it from within the confines of your mind as you put your head in your hands.
You didn't see Peter, but he welled up in empathy and regret, longing to undo whatever had caused you such sorrow.
He had never enjoyed seeing you cry, all the times when you couldn’t save someone and the miserable weeks after that someone irrecoverable was the man you held nearest your heart, Mr. Stark. But it’s not until he was the cause of your tears and strife that he understood how much worse it is. He couldn’t help you, try as he might, because you were convinced of his sudden change of heart. He was the reason why you’re so empty right now.
But it all made sense now.
The issue was not a matter of loyalty. Even though you're still convinced he cheated, your pain had so little to do with Peter and so much to do with yourself. You didn’t think you were enough for him. And that is one of the worst things he had ever heard you say.
The urge to hug you filled him, but he had to resist. Because now he could fix this. As long as he could get through to you, and he was intent to, he would hold you again.
“Do you actually think that?” Peter asked, his tone more nonjudgmental than not. “Is that how you really see us?”
He couldn’t fight the urge anymore.
Peter slid a hand under your chin, watching with doe eyes as you removed your hands so he could cup your smooth jaw with a gentle touch.
It’s too familiar, his tender hold. You felt more electric pangs of guilt and hurt shoot down to the collection stewing in your gut, increasing the flow of tears, but at the same time you couldn’t pull away. You didn’t have it in you and even if Peter wasn’t yours anymore, it felt nice to be held by him. One last time.
“Don’t you?” you muttered, eyes shutting as he moved his thumb to wipe away some of your tears.
“No.”
You opened your eyes, wet and glossy, but broken from the glum you’d been absorbed in. As if you‘d been viewing everything from the perspective of an outsider, but now, here in his hold, you reclaimed your story and for the first time in days, you finally felt awake.
Peter didn’t hesitate as he dove into assurances. He could sense you coming back to him, the real him that was loving and so caring. And he wouldn’t let you slip again.
“I don’t want you because I think you should do things for me,” he began, his voice slow so that every word of truth could invade your falsely constructed inner dialogue. “I want you because you’re you. I’ve always liked who you are, and even with how hard everything has become, you’re still that same person. Perfect exactly how you are. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you think I expect you to become some ‘better version’ of yourself, as if that exists, but I promise I will spend everyday after this making sure you know you’re enough. For me and the rest of the world.”
One of Peter’s arms wraps around your waist while the other stays supporting your cheek as he pulls you close.
“You’ve been through so much, baby, the task of becoming someone completely different to please me is not worth the effort. And changing is not something you need to do at all. Because I love this version of you. Every little part. You’re not exhausting or too much, you’re exactly who I want to be with. Especially when you feel this sadness. It’s not a burden, it’s an emotion.“
He said so simply, it makes you want to cry even harder, finally seen in a world where no one spares a second to ask you if you’re okay. Of course it’s Peter, he's always been the one who cares.
”And for the record, I like taking care of you,” he continued, wiping more of your tears away as the full impact of his declaration rained down on you like a warm summer storm. “I want to be here for you, always and especially when you’re having those thoughts. I know we’ve been here before and I’m sorry I didn’t recognize it. I should’ve been there for you and helped you before it got to this point. It would’ve saved us both a lot of suffering.”
You find the strength to finally speak.
“So you haven’t, you know…” you asked, though you know his sweet words are confirmation enough.
“Cheated?” Peter supplied, saying the word you didn’t want to give breath to ever again.
You nodded.
“No. I would never.” he admits with so much certainty, it can only be true. “There’s not a single person in the universe that I would want to choose over you.”
“Except for Aunt May?” you smiled, sniffling. Peter did too at your humor. You were starting to be yourself again.
He shrugged.
“I’d say you’re both equally irreplaceable.”
Your following chuckle felt like life was seeping back into you, slowly, but for certain.
All those moments from the past week, every time you were sure he hadn’t wanted you any longer, they all blurred together in a slurry of flashbacks, breaking your grin with a burning question.
“But all those things,” you started. You believed him, of course, he’d never given you reason to not believe in him. But it wasn’t conspiracy that drove you to your lowest, all the signs had been there. “All the times you were avoidant, all the lies you fed me. I don’t get it.”
Peter’s teeth pulled at the walls of his cheeks, an expression of pure guilt washing across his face as he briefly glanced at the ground. He wasn’t innocent, but he was ready to explain himself.
“I didn’t cheat on you, but I did lie to you. And for that -” he looked back to you, ashamed yet sincere. “-I am so sorry.”
“What was it about?”
You were careful in asking, the same questions rattling around your mind as you wondered if his answer would carry a secret more betraying that sneaking off with another.
He answered quickly as if eager to get it off his chest.
“What I always lie about. What I have to lie about, just not normally to you.” he stated, his habit a routine by now so as to cope with the symptoms of being New York’s greatest vigilante.
Suddenly, you replay each twisted reveal with the new insight and your eyes widen as all the pieces fall into their rightful place. His deceit was not to hide the hands of another, but rather his heroism. Acts that he still partook in without your knowledge and fully aware that you were able and more than willing to assist with. If it weren’t for the hand still laced around your hips, you were sure you would’ve fallen back into your chair out of shock.
It all made sense.
The time on the bridge when he told you to run instead of help.
And another when he’d blown you off at the opera, coincidentally coinciding with the battle that took place at the light festival your class was supposed to attend planning.
And now he was covered in scratches so deep, they could only come from a villain with serious intent to kill.
“It was you!” you exclaimed. “This whole trip you’d been running off, and I never figured it out. Even Ned told me that the Night Monkey was just some European rip off!”
“He might’ve been in on it.” admitted Peter.
You hadn’t noticed it before, but you realized then that Peter was still in the suit that had gained so much attention online. Black patterned fabric covered his legs, not some strange foreign fashion, but the mark of his European alter ego.
Perhaps it wasn’t as life altering as finding out your long term boyfriend was cheating, but you couldn’t fight the hurt that swole in your chest. You backed from him.
“Why?”
You didn’t need to elaborate. He knew exactly what you were asking.
“Look,” he began. ”We left because we needed a break, right? And for a while I refused to do anything for Fury. Wouldn't even answer his calls. But he wouldn’t leave me alone, he just got more persistent. That’s why our trip got changed because-“
“He intercepted it.” you finished for him, connecting the dots as he drew them.
“Exactly,” Peter nodded. “I knew that I couldn’t get out of it, but I figured as long as I did all he asked of me, you could still have your break and be spared. And I know you needed this.”
He paused to look at you, really take in all that he had missed doing what he thought was right.
“That’s why I didn’t tell you. You deserve a break after all we’ve been through. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to get involved.”
You shook your head in disbelief.
This whole time you'd been convinced that Peter Parker was trying to rid himself of you. And all along he only sought a week for you to feel relaxed.
“That’s not your decision to make.” you countered.
“I know. I’m sorry. I realize now that it was such a mistake and I ended up hurting you more.”
Unbelievable. The bounds of your boyfriend’s sweetness were absolutely unbelievable. You unwound the story like a tight ball of multicolored yarn, searching for each hue with new eyes. They were free from your stormy bias.
“Okay, if you were just playing super hero the whole time, how do you explain Brad catching you naked with a woman in the bathroom?”
“She worked for Fury, wanted me to try on my stealth suit to make sure it would work. I tried to leave with it, but she was really insistent on having me try it on. Wouldn’t let me out until Brad walked in.”
“Huh,” you solved. “And then he tried to use the evidence to steal me away.”
“You saw the photo?”
“No, but he claimed he had it. Couldn’t find it at the last minute though. God, he’s literally been suffocating me this whole trip you know. No matter how many times I shooed him off, he won’t just leave me alone.”
While he hadn’t made it known, Peter had noticed Brad’s constant close proximity to you during the whole trip and though he should’ve known, his jealousy blinders fell as you confirmed your annoyance.
“You didn’t-?”
“Want him? No, he was like 10 when we blipped and way too pushy,” you rolled your eyes, shocked that he could ever assume such a horrific reality where Brad’s love swindling worked. But you couldn’t get off topic. “Now what about the night you wouldn’t let me into your room? I know it wasn’t because of Ned. If he was really sick, I could've helped him.”
“No, you’re right. Ned was asleep because Fury was literally there and he tranquilized him. I couldn’t let him see you. I had just finished explaining how you wouldn’t be able to help and begged him to leave you out of everything.”
“Alright,” you accepted, but you still weren’t finished, unsatisfied by the many loose ends left. “And the night you left my room. You were so affectionate, just like old times, but then you just left. Like you didn’t mean it in the first place.”
Peter’s hands dragged over his face as he replayed the moment, completely passing over how his actions could’ve been taken.
“I thought it would help you rest. I spent the rest of the night looking into locations that I wanted to take you to, places we could finally be alone, finally be real people. I thought staying would be too overwhelming after, well… He’s everywhere, isn't he?”
“Yeah.” you sniffled.
You thought he hadn’t noticed, ignorant to the sting of seeing your late father’s face in every corner of Europe you'd explored so far, the world celebrating the life of the man you were still mourning. But it was hurting him too, just as much as it was hurting you.
“Shit,” Peter broke, wiping away a tear of his own. ”I’m so sorry.” Your question was forcing him to revisit every event of the past few days, reconsidering the negative effect his actions had on you. Every time he thought he was protecting you, he only added more weight to the pile of your overwhelming pain, to the point where you thought he was unfaithful.
By attempting to do something good for the collective, he was severing all of your ties.
“I should’ve stopped after the first lie. I’m sorry I hid everything, I’m sorry I acted distant, and mostly I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t enough. I never want you to feel like that, especially not because of me. And honestly, sometimes I wish you could be in my head so you could see yourself how I do, see how amazing you are.”
It was you who wrapped your arms around him this time as you whispered words of thanks into his neck.
“I love you.” Peter replied, shifting so he could tighten his hold without ripping your fine stitching at his back.
“I love you too,” you uttered. “So much.”
The feeling of sudden wholeness consumed you and for the first time in a week you were serene. Of course he was innocent. Peter had shown you who he was from the moment you were first acquainted and he had never changed, now you were sure he never would. He was always yours, his affections reserved for only you.
“And to think that old Czech lady from the bar suggested I find a European bachelor to cheat on you back.” you laughed. In retrospect, the story wasn’t nearly as tragic now that you were sure that Peter would never commit such a crime. You had the sweetest person in the universe wrapped around your finger and you almost threw it all away over a faulty hunch during a dark spell. But he wouldn’t let you. He knew you too well to let you, the wonderful person he was.
Only now your boyfriend looked like he was going to hurl, pulling away with a look so disturbed, it couldn’t just be a bad reaction to your joke.
“What bar?” Happy asked, emerging from the cockpit as he sensed tensions between the two of you we’re setting. “Not that I was listening.”
“What Czech lady?” Peter asked, his question taking priority.
“It was the night of the opera, during the big fight. I didn’t want to stay in the theatre alone, so I just started wandering through the city until I found this bar. They didn’t ID either. They invited me in and gave me lemonade and I talked to this really nice lady until I got asked to leave. I’m pretty sure they were closing? I don’t know, but she told me to go home.”
“Fuck.” Peter cursed, baking away to his hands through his greasy curls as his eyes bloomed with concern.
“What?”
“You told her everything? Like about us too?”
“Yeah and..” you paused, swallowing before you could continue “And about my dad.”
Peter groaned now, fleeing to lean against a plane panel on the opposite side of where you had reunited.
“I didn’t use any real names, there’s no chance they know who I am.”
“They know,” Peter argued. “I went to a bar that night too, after the fight. Mysterio’s bar. Filled with holograms and his people. He knows you’re vulnerable. There’s nothing stopping him from attacking the enterprise.”
“But I thought you were working together?”
“We were, but he wasn’t honest about who he was and now, fuck, I messed everything up.”
Your boyfriend fell into one of the nearby seats, catching his head in his hands as he sniffled to hold back sobs. He was still in so much pain, his back flaming like it had been kissed by fire, but his failures dug much deeper than lacerated skin and stung something awful.
“Calm down, Peter,” Happy neared him, standing at your side. “We’re going to figure this out.”
“No, don’t tell me to calm down, Happy. How can I possibly relax when I messed up so bad?!” Peter shouted, up on his feet once more.
All you could do was look at him.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed, tears of frustration cascading down his reddened cheeks as he sat again. “I shouldn’t shout.”
“What’s going on?”
You were still very much out of the loop.
“It’s Mysterio,” Peter looked up at you. “He’s not the hero he pretended to be. His powers, they’re holograms manufactured by drones. That’s what the attacks were too, just grandscale illusions destructive enough to fool me and Nick Fury. I thought I could trust him, he seemed like he cared when I talked to him about how hard these powers make living sometimes, about you a little too. And now, I just gave him the only thing Mr. Stark left for me so he can destroy my friends and all of Europe with it.”
Of all the news broken, this is certainly the worst.
“He left you something?”
Your father had left you much when he had passed, but it was all just stuff. His cars, his money, nothing that truly carried his essence, he’d taken it all with him when he passed. Something told you whatever he had left Peter was the piece of him you had been searching for.
“And you didn’t tell me?” you quivered.
Peter took another blow as he saw the consequences of his mistake wash over you, the damage blooming like organismic blight.
“No, I thought it would only hurt you more,” he claims. But it’s more than a measly excuse. It was stupid and it hurt you like the sting of a bullet, but your understanding lessened the blow. Peter’s used to being a hero, he was just playing his role. “Having another reminder of him. I didn’t think you needed that. At least not right now. And I’ve been so insecure about it, I don't feel like I deserve them. So I gave them up, that’s what I thought he wanted me to do, but now...”
Peter’s eyes grew glassy.
“I miss him so much.”
Silence.
That’s the only way you could react.
Happy didn’t retreat, but he did take a seat across from Peter’s slumped form while you inched closer, feeling the spread of his grief as you passed a hand down his cheek. It consumed him, eating him alive like maggots at rot. You could feel it so strongly.
“I know you’ve been seeing him,” Peter shuddered. “I do too. He’s literally everywhere we go, following us. Like leaving home isn’t far enough to escape it. Like we’d have to leave the planet.”
“I should’ve known it was affecting you too. I might be his daughter, but he practically saw you as a son,” you admitted. “I feel that hurt, the constant reminder. But we’re not supposed to escape it. Ever. You can’t outrun grief, even with enhanced abilities. You just have to learn how to live with it. It's never going to shrink, but that doesn’t mean you can’t grow. You taught me that.”
“I know, but it’s not just grief. It’s his legacy too.”
Even after nineteen years of being Iron Man’s daughter, it was ironic how unaffected you were by the pressure of assuming your father’s place. You inherited his company, sure, but you didn’t have the press on your shoulder begging you to confirm his replacement. The world was unaware of your connection to the man, but it knew of Peter’s. You couldn’t imagine a more painful burden to hold and here he had held it, all so that you could be free.
“The whole world keeps asking me who’s going to be the next Iron Man,” he continued. “And I- I don’t know if that’s me! I’m not Iron Man.”
Words escaped you. But even without your father, your guiding figure answered his calling.
“You’re not,” Happy agreed. “Niether of you are ever going to be Iron Man, that’s a life not even Tony could live up to. He was my best friend and he was such a mess, always second guessing. But one of the only things he didn’t second guess was choosing you. And I know that if he were here right now, he’d be proud of all you guys have accomplished. Together.”
You felt Peter’s hand wrap around your wrist, a squeeze of light as he started to return to himself again.
“Now,” Happy challenged. “You don’t have any back up, your tech is gone, and your friends are on the line. What are you going to do about it?”
Rising like the string winds of a growing cyclone, you recognized a shine in Peter’s eyes that had been missing for several months: determination.
“I’m going to kick his ass.”
You stood alongside him, wiping your eyes as you nodded.
“Together.”
Peter sniffled, debating if now was an appropriate time to kiss you after neglecting you for so long. Instead he settled for an agreeing smile and a squeeze of your hand, turning back to Happy as the reality of your mission set in.
“I need a suit,” he stated. “Mine got shredded by the train that ran over me.”
“And mine’s at home. I wasn’t expecting a fight, but I guess that’s good. Means Mysterio won’t be expecting me.”
“Suits?” Happy’s face shifted into a familiar diabolical look as he stood to press a button. “I think I know just the thing.”
Like the triumphant hatching of a chickling, the back of the plane crackled in excitement as it shifted from seats to a mobile work station, modeling the larger version you’d snuck into back in your Malibu mansion many years ago. Complete with a synthetic fabric printer and fully automated assistant drones, the station was no doubt a brilliant addition from your father, a blessing from the past.
You stared in shock, Peter’s jaw slanted beside you as he marveled at the sight of it.
“Well, get to work.”
“Hold on,” your boyfriend paused, breaking from his trance. “We only have enough time to print one suit. What about the other?”
“Take your time designing, Peter,” Happy ordered, his sight shifting towards you as he nodded for you to follow him towards the cockpit. “I’ve got something really special for you.”
“Sorry” Peter frowned, though he was unable to contain his excitement as he looked back over to the printer. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
You shook your head, assuring him all would be well and grinning as he pressed a kiss to your cheek before starting for the navigation panel. There were thousands of base models to choose from, many that you recognized as closely resembling your usual suit, but you knew the day would come and you’d have plenty of chances to edit your costume later on.
Following his eager gestures, you held out your hands as Happy pressed another button, this time opening a panel in the ceiling of the aircraft. An oval parcel fell into your open arms, coated in a golden plated metal instead of the cardboard box most packages were received in. Just as eccentric as the man you could sense had gifted it. You could feel your father’s intentions in every metallic bond.
“Peter’s not the only person getting special gifts, you know. Your dad hid this a few years ago, just in case you ever came back. He told me to wait for the right time if he couldn’t show you himself.”
He pointed a finger to the central circular panel of the oval, urging for you to rest your finger against it. As you did, the rest of the metal container separated and fell apart until they formed your iconic suit, just with many new iron detailings. A match to your father’s own armour. It was perfect.
“Thank you,” you mustered, but you're so overcome by emotion, it's a miracle the words can even come out.
“I’m just the messenger,” Happy smiled. “Tony knew there’d never be another Iron Man, but damn, if anyone could get close, he knew it would be his daughter.”
Words poured from your head faster than the tears poured from your eyes as you held the suit close. Cold metal kissed your cheek.
Now,” Happy moved back to rest in his rightful seas in the cock pit. “Let’s get out of this here. You guys handle the costumes, I’ll handle the music.”
Rock blared from the plane’s internal speakers as you hurried over to Peter, grinning as he paused his calibrations to indulge in the sound.
“Oh, I love Led Zeppelin!"
A laugh slipped from your lips, the first in a long stretch of miserable days. You may have been headed for battle against impossible forces, but you felt happier than you had in a very long time.
The few hours that passed felt like mere seconds in the jet and soon enough you were suited up and soaring above London. Tony’s impeccable craftsmanship shone through every crevice of your suit. From the perfect fit to the genius fusion of your original suit design with his iron additions. And now you could access F.R.I.D.A.Y., something you were unable to before. Constructions of his face danced in your mind as you imagined the thought he put into every detail and his reaction to you wearing it now. It didn’t ache like his memory normally did, perhaps because these memories were fabricated, but you wondered if it meant something more. You felt good, empowered as if he was standing beside you with his signature smirk of pride.
Maybe a part of you was healing.
“Are you guys ready?” Happy asked, returning to the pilot wheel as he hung up with Nick Fury, confirming that his secret message had indeed gotten across.
“Just about.” you replied, flexing your hands to make sure your powers are fully functional. The pads of every finger spark and dim as your power surges and dissipates. In actuality, you knew they’d be there. They always are. Your magic wasn’t an object that can be stolen away, but you found yourself checking before every major battle. It was a ritual, an action done for good fortune. Just in case.
“My suit’s almost rendered,” Peter responded after you, watching as mechanical arms printed out the fabric, fibers bright red and deep black. He gestured you over when he caught you staring, hands slipping over the smooth fingerless gloves until they entwined with yours. “Our plan still good?”
“Yep. I’ll stay hidden until it’s time to go for the kill. Then we’ll take back the drones.”
Peter nodded slowly and pulled a hand away to dig through his pocket, a fist balling around the object as he lifted it up.
“Originally, I wanted to give you this in Prague before - well - everything. I was really hoping we’d be somewhere more romantic, but this works too.”
You recognized it as soon as the golden chain unraveled from his grasp, a brilliant blue pendant of pure glass dangling in the air. It’s flashy, but not enough to garner attention from outsiders. Just enough for the two of you as the pendant shimmers in the white light of the jet. You know exactly what it resembles. Your father’s octagonal core. Iron Man’s Arc Reactor.
You hated the way tears came so easily, but you couldn’t help it.
“Peter...”
“Do you like it?” he offered a toothy grin, nearing you with the necklace as he gently wiped your cheek.
“It’s beautiful.”
He rounded your shoulder, unclasping the delicate metal to string around your neck, but you stop him before he can place the necklace. You met his eyes, pendant smooth and cold in your palm.
“I don’t want it to shatter.” you explained, pressing one of the side panels of your suit as a hidden compartment in your armour revealed itself. Obeying your motions, Peter lowered the chain inside until it was fully concealed.
“It’s just in case,” he replied. “If I didn’t get the chance to give it to you later...”
“No,” you furrowed your brows, shaking your head at the horrid thought. You couldn’t lose him too, you wouldn’t. “We’re going to make it out of this.”
“Tony would be so proud of you.” Happy broke the silence, sneaking up behind you with the aid of the jet’s autopilot.
“Let’s make him prouder by getting his drones back.” you smiled.
One last nod.
That’s all you shared before Peter’s mask slid on and you were flying through the blue skies of London, veiled by your stealth armour that used the same technology as your father’s jet before it crashed the night of your sophomore Homecoming.
It wasn’t an easy battle, the drone war was well fought, but by the end you were the victorious.
You remained hidden throughout most of it, aided by your experience as the daughter of America’s most wanted billionaire and a childhood of always hiding your identity. Your attacks were focused on the people behind the scene, as Peter took on the deadly projections above.
You certainly had your work cut out for you. All communications systems were to be disabled to prevent Beck from getting the hint that Spider-Man wasn’t alone. You started with his underground assistant, the same woman who had dawned a fake accent that night in the bar so as to convince you that she was a Czech local. You’d been so honest, so willing to take whatever comfort you could find. Now you were out for revenge.
You trapped her in her own tunnel lair, seizing her radio before disabling the machines that you guessed were to emulate activity rays. A clever support to Mysterio’s meticulously planned deception.
Next you went after his scribe, separating the connection between the man that supplied him each of his twisted lies that constructed his savior complex. Then, though really there was no need for it, you subdued his costumer with your special gift and wrecked the outfit he had been parading around in. By the time you're finished, your efforts were enough to help Peter onto the bridge and though the city was in flames, Mysterio was no more.
Peter was limping through a car wreck on Tower Bridge when you finally found him, his head turning wildly until he caught sight of you landing just ahead. He was battered again, face smeared with blood from several superficial cuts as a line of maroon dries up below one of his nostrils. But despite his obvious pain, he sped as he spotted you, hurrying eagerly until you were settled in his arms and his face nestled you cheek.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his breath heavy, but slowing with every second that he held you.
“Am I okay?” you laughed, sustaining only small scrapes where your fingers were bare as you armour protected you from any real injury. “I wasn’t the one in the action.”
“I’m fine,” Peter promised, but you can see the red through his suit fabric. At the very least he had torn his stitches, but you're sure he had sustained more than reopened wounds.
He pulled his head away before you got the chance to ask, grinning at the sight of you as his palm cradled your cheek. “It’s nothing compared to how it felt knowing that I hurt you.”
You waved your hand, tossing away the past like it’s the breeze blowing past you, a paper to be torn and crumpled.
“It wouldn’t have escalated so much if I had just asked you. We need to be more honest with each other from here on out. With our feelings, missions, everything. I don’t want it to get that bad again.”
“It won’t.” he vowed, holding up a hand to extend his pinky finger towards you.
You were quick to take it, interlocking and squeezing to seal your promise tight.
“I promise,” he stared at you with adoration. “I’ll give you a detailed summary of all future meetings with Fury as long as you come to me the second you think I’m cheating.”
“I will.”
“And another thing,” Peter began. “Back on the plane, all that stuff you said, about how you don’t feel like you reciprocate enough. Well, you know I don’t feel that way, right? I don’t feel like this is one sided, even when you're at your worst. And you do take care of me, just by being here for me. You’re always around when I need you.”
Peter’s gaze was soft with his confession, brown eyes dazzling from the light of the tiny fires that sprouted from the debris around you.
“I can’t believe I convinced myself that you didn’t notice,” you admitted. “All the places we saw my dad. You didn’t say anything, but I can’t believe I didn’t stop to think about the impact it was having on you too.”
Peter looked down, briefly, before lifting his head again, swallowing down his grief like you had done so many times before.
“It still hurts, just like the day we watched him… go. I still haven’t fully processed it and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to move on.”
“No, me either,” you agreed. “But someone very wise once told me that grief is beautiful in that it’s built upon all the love we shared. Because the pain is proof that all that love is still here.”
Peter cracked a grin.
“He sounds handsome too.”
“Oh, extremely. And humble.”
“That reminds me,” he pulled away, reaching for the back of his suit where he had stored his coveted glasses from Beck. “I want to give you something.”
For the second time that day, you felt a jolt of longing as you recognized yet another symbol of your father. A pair of his glasses, smudged and chipped, but just as garish as any other pair he would parade around in. E.D.I.T.H.
“Peter,” you stopped, retracting the hand that had automatically reached for the glasses as he held them out to you. “I can’t. He gave them to you.”
“He didn’t, actually. They were willed to both of us.” he amended. “Fury only gave them to me because I told him you were out of commission.”
He extended them to you once more and you swore you could feel his relief as you picked them up by the frames, examining the specks with rapture.
“I already gave them to the wrong person once. I don’t think I can handle them. Give them back later if you want, slip them to me at Christmas or for my birthday, but for now, I think you should have them.”
You didn’t need to thank Peter. The comfort of having another piece of your dad brought you did more for him than any sign of gratitude. That and the kiss you shared, bodies entwined all alone on one of the formerly busiest bridges in Europe.
Peter got his romantic landmark after all.
You weren’t expecting to ever see your classmates again until the following school year when you could go back to pretend that nothing strange had happened on your whirlwind of a summer trip. However, Happy thought it best that you occupied the commercial seats you’d already paid for, to be normal teens for once instead of two people sharing the weight of the world on your super-enhanced shoulders.
And reuniting with the group wasn’t quite as difficult as you imagined it to be. With Ned and MJ in on the act, you had more than enough excuses to cover your trail.
Through the long flight you settled on Peter’s shoulder, content and confident that there wasn’t a more ideal position to be in. The bounds of your relationship had been tested and strained, and you still made it out alive. Together. Always.
Peter’s breathing slowed to a rhythmic purr as he dozed in the seat beside you. He hadn’t even made it partway through the comedy you two were watching through his dual headphone adapter, but it was a rest much deserved.
You, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep a wink. Not with your father’s legacy in your pocket.
You certified that everyone around you was just as slumberous as your boyfriend as you slipped on the glasses.
“E.D.I.T.H.” you whispered and at once the visual mechanism sprung to life. They exuded every ounce of your father’s essence as words and numbers projected on the blue tinted lenses.
“Stand by for retinal and biometric scan,” the robotic voice informed. “Scan accepted. Hello Junior.”
A smile snuck up on your face as you hid it behind a hand even though you were sure no one was watching. You hadn’t been called in a very long time.
“Did my dad program you to call me that?” you murmured.
“Tony gave me many features, including the ability to record and send both written and recorded memos. In fact, you have a message.”
“What?”
That couldn’t be right. But sure enough, an emblem of an envelope appeared in the upper right corner of your visual field, a ’1’ encircled in red to indicate mail.
“Would you like me to open it?”
Unsure of how you could’ve gotten a message as a previously unauthorized user made you ever more curious.
“Sure.”
The envelope opened, springing up a black screen as a video buffered. You gasped when it finally started to play as the image of your father flickered into motion.
You knew the chair he was sitting in all too well. Your desk chair was surrounded by the four walls that constructed your campus bedroom as you noticed the smooth green bedspread behind your father’s figure at the edge of the frame. Even as pixels on a screen, he was so real, more alive than he’d been since your struggle against Thanos.
“We’re recording?” he asked, his voice a treasured melody of a track you could no longer play. You hadn’t heard it in so long.
“All systems ready, sir.” E.D.I.T.H.’s voice replied, though her robotic answer was distant now, a portion of the recording.
Your father nodded, turning his gaze to the camera, staring as if he was really there. As if he could really see you.
“Hey Junior.” the musings of a smile rose on his face. Not exactly happy, but comforted by the pet name he’d given you when you were much younger. You used to get mad at him for it, even threatening to conduct an explosive reaction when he used it in front of your friend freshman year.
Regret stung at the memory. The recording of him saying it now felt like finding a lake in the desert.
“God this is so weird. I’m not positive you’ll even see this. I don’t even know if this whole crazy plan is going to work, but I have this feeling. Maybe it’s just hope, maybe even guilt, but I want to believe it's something more certain. That’s why I’m doing this. Somewhere deep down, I know you’re coming back…”
“E.D.I.T.H.?” you muttered, cautious of the bubble rising in your throat. “When was this taken?”
“October 13th, 2023.”
Just as you had suspected. It was only days before the blip was ended and you and Peter were reunited on Titan before being thrown back into battle.
The video played on.
“We definitely have a lot to catch up on. It’s been, what, five years now? Everything’s changed. I’m sure you’ve met Morgan by now. It wasn’t easy having her. She certainly helped the time pass, but our family’s never felt … complete. Not without you. I don’t think there’s been a single day where I don’t think about you. I thought you should know.”
Hot tears were brimming, accompanied by the longing stuck in your chest. You wondered if that was how your father felt while you were gone. And what was worse? Losing someone for good or the uncertainty of ever seeing them again.
“There’s so many things I wish I could go back and fix. How different I would raise you if I got to do it all over. That’s kind of the general idea behind what we’re going to do, gather the infinity stones and snap everyone back into existence. I won’t lie. I’m scared of losing what little peace I’ve found, but if there’s even a shred of a chance that I can get you back … I have to take it.
“I don’t think I ever told you how proud you made me. Still make me actually. You know I’m not one to get sentimental, but spending so much time back here has been making me reflect. I come in here a lot. It’s one of the only things that’s stayed exactly the same. Like you’re still here, even though I watched you get dusted on Titan. Not my favorite nightmare.”
Tony paused, turning back to take in your bedroom. You remembered the shock of coming back to it in pristine condition, every minute detail unchanged from the corny band posters on your wall to the order of your closet. He scooted back in your wheeled desk chair, reaching down and revealing a tattered notebook you recognized as one of the many you used to doodle in during boring periods at school. Everything from crude sketches of teachers to theories you constructed with no real intention for them to be anything more than a time filler. All piled into one worn place, a map of your high school experience.
“Found this a few weeks ago. I hope you’re not mad, I snoop every once in a while. Haven’t found anything too embarrassing yet, in case you’re worried. Pepper says it’s good for coping anyway. Another way to feel like you’re still here. Imagine my surprise when I opened this thing and saw exactly what I’ve been pondering for a few days. A perfect theory for time travel, right on the first page.”
He peeled open the cover, turning over the page so you could see the ancient sketch, shreds of eraser still clung to the lined page.
“I guess I’m not surprised. You’re my daughter. And I mean, it isn’t perfect. There’s a couple flaws in the structure, some things you didn’t know to take into account, but you were closer to it than anyone else. Just a little recalibrating and it works. There’s so much great stuff in here, God. I wish I knew about these sooner. I already knew you were extraordinary from everything you’ve done for this city, but, just wow. You’re going to do so many great things.”
Tony replaced the notebook, but his eyes didn’t return to the camera for several seconds. You knew what he was doing, gazing off into the indiscernible distance to prevent the tears from falling. It was a rare sight, the great Tony Stark showing any vulnerability, but always profound.
“Ideally, if you're watching this, it’s because I got drunk enough from celebrating to show it to you. But in the event that I’m not there, I wanted to be able to give you some closure. It’s more for me really, so I can rest assured that I told you everything I neglected to while you were here. I know it’s going to hurt, but if it’s one of us, it should be me. It’s heartbreaking to lose a parent, take it from me. But it’s a tragedy to lose your child.”
Another pause.
“I’m sorry. I just want to make sure I get it right. You get how it works, perfectionism. I passed it onto you.
“If my prophecy does come true, I want you to know that it’s not the end for us. Only a long-term separation. And even though I’m not there, don’t think you’re without me. I’ll be watching over you. Peter too.”
He chuckled, shaking his head.
“I know I discouraged it when you guys first got together, really I was just blind sighted by all the sneaking around for God knows how long, but I don’t think you could’ve chosen a better person. There’s really no one else like him. He’s another reason I’m willing to take this shot in the dark, even if it means leaving for good. I’m comforted by the knowledge that you have him to rely on. And he has you.”
The tears finally fall at the mention of the boy beside you. Peter’s still soundly asleep as you quietly sniffle, wiping away the stream with the hand that isn’t tucked away in his.
There was a call in the background, the impatient squeal of a young girl who could only be Morgan. Though if it weren’t for the timestamp, if the recording was from a decade earlier, you could be convinced that it was your younger self.
“It’s time to go I guess,” your father sighed. “She’s always ready to go home before I am. That’s just how it works I suppose. I don’t let her come in here with me. It’s too sacred. I’ll catch you up when you come back. Because I know you’ll be back. You have to be.”
A single tear slowed down his wrinkled cheeks as he lifted his arm towards the camera.
“I love you Junior. I never said it enough before, but that doesn’t mean I ever felt it any less. You’re the best thing I ever made. And I’ll see you in a bit.
One last smile. That’s the last look he gave you before ordering E.D.I.T.H. to stop the recording as your visual plane returns to black along with the ambience from your flight.
“Would you like to issue a reply?” E.D.I.T.H asked and as robotic as she is, you’re sure she knows the contact won’t ever receive it. It’s in her name, the truth of Tony’s state. But there’s a deeper reason for her asking and you take advantage of the opportunity.
“Yes,” you breathed, speaking slowly through the tears. “Tell him I love him.”
“Message sent.”
You tucked her away after the confirmation as Peter stirred beside you from the movement. His squinting eyes widened as he realized you were crying again.
“Everything okay?”
You were proud that the answer was truthful, a bittersweet yet resounding yes. Peter adjusted to lean against you, lowering his shoulder so that you could rest your head on him as he radiated warmth like a mobile heater.
Even with your summer vacation hijacked and the destruction of most of your luggage, you were returning home with the only thing that ever really mattered. Your irreplaceable Peter. And with him, everything was alright.
Bonus:
You gathered every blanket you could find in Peter’s apartment, setting them up on the couch until you had a messy nest of fabric. One big enough for both you and Peter to relax on after a long day of patrolling.
“Popcorn or candy?” he shouted from the kitchen as you perused the Parker’s limited channels for the perfect movie to throw on. Preferably something you could doze off to.
“Why not both?” you answered, earning a chuckle from your boyfriend.
“Good point. Both coming right up. Are you finding anything?”
You opened another contender, groaning frustratedly as it was yet another dud.
“It’s all commercials. That's all cable is nowadays. You seriously need to talk to May about getting some streaming services.”
“I know, but I’m telling you she won’t. She says she’s too indecisive to pick something every time.”
“Oh wait, I got something!” you jolted as you finally found a familiar title. “Your favorite Star Wars is on!”
Peter rushed from the kitchen like a dog hearing the word ‘walk’, only to catch a flash of the final scene as the orchestra score started and the credits began to roll.
“Damnit, too bad it didn’t start later. That would’ve been a good one.” he sighed in defeat before retreating to the kitchen and the popcorn in the microwave.
“Sorry babe, maybe next time.”
You continued to flip through channels until you were stopped by a familiar likeness being broadcasted by a news organization you had never heard of before. The headline was what really caught your attention, a breaking development to the battle in London and Spider-Man’s involvement. Then your own alter ego made an appearance, captured in blurry pixels from an amateur photographer, followed by a face you had grown to hate. Quentin Beck.
“We come to you now with breaking news about last week’s attack in London. An anonymous source provided this video. It shows Quentin Beck A.K.A Mysterio, moments before his death. A warning, you may find this video disturbing.”
You watched in horror as a video of Beck returned to the screen, capturing him spewing lies about Peter and you as if you two teenagers were the aggressors who hungered for the power he had attempted to seize. You were shocked when a clip of Peter followed, a doctored cut of his voice clearly ordering the execution of the people he had really been saving.
“Peter,” you called. “I think you should see this.”
“What, are they doing another story on it?” he asked, peeking at the television from the kitchen. His jaw dropped in horror as he realized what had been portrayed. “That’s not how that happened. That video is fake.”
“I know.”
But it only got worse.
“That’s not all folks. Here’s the real blockbuster. Brace yourselves, you might want to sit down.”
Peter sat down as the clip of Beck returned, bloodied and glitching as if he was in the midst of some horrible feud.
“They’re working together, Spider-Man and her.” an image of your flash on the screen as Mysterio’s voice continued in the background. “The hero you know, her real name is Stark.”
You gasped as he revealed your identity, an ancient picture of you and your father replacing the former.
“She’s Tony Stark’s daughter. That’s how they have access to Iron Man’s deadly technology.”
“No, there’s no way this is happening.” you choked as Peter rushed to stand beside you.
“And Spider-Man’s name is-”
The video cut out as your heart beat wildly, a black screen answering your anticipation. He couldn’t have said it, there’s no way it would’ve made it through.
But then the TV flicked and Beck returned with a punch more fatal than any he could’ve made with his fists.
“Spider-Man’s real name is Peter Parker!”
Another flash and then, Peter’s face lit up the screen.
synopsis: in which johnny storm loves women and you love men (at least the decent ones) and what happens next is only natural … right?
warnings: smut 18+, like A LOT of smut, like a sickening amount, but it's porn with a plot, r is referred to as a female and has female anatomy, r has telekinesis, r is from the mcu, friends with benefits, forbidden relationship, oral sex (f & m) receiving, fingering, hand job, shower sex, public-ish sex, slight exhibitionism, johnny is a warning, some angst, ends fluffy tho
word count: 13.8k
masterlist
a/n: obviously inspired by kisses of fire by abba! johnny is very abba coded to me, idk why. requests are still coming, I just had to hatch this little brain child out of nowhere. it's very long, and i'm not 100% happy with it, but I will go insane if I don't post! enjoy!!
Tripping on a coat hangar was not on your list of obstacles as you snuck through the residential floor hallways of the Baxter Building, relying on the shadows of the night for coverage. You'd become very familiar with the layout considering it had been your home for only a few months now, only getting lost when you had the misfortune of running errands on the lower floors.
You cupped your mouth as a wince tried to worm its way out, eyes wide when the object you had collided with proceeded to tumble to the ground, sending a loud series of clatters into the surrounding atmosphere.
So much for being sneaky.
Your heart raced in your throat when a door opened in the hallway just ahead, a figure emerging from the dim, lamp-lit room inside: the nursery. In your anxious state, you ran through excuses to feed to Reed or Sue about why you were so far from your own bed in the middle of the night. Anything that would distract them from the truth; that in fact you were venturing to sleep somewhere warmer…
Lucky for you, it was H.E.R.B.I.E.'s turn with Franklin.
He made a sequence of beeps in your direction, a unique language that would've baffled you a year ago, but now, you were quite adept at interpreting all he was trying to relay. His tone was chiding as he rolled towards you.
"Quiet, Herbs." you whispered, a desperate attempt at preventing the robot from waking up anyone you hadn't already.
He beeped again, this time at a volume much quieter than his usual resonance. He informed you that you had been very close to waking up poor Franklin who had been more fussy than usual. His teething was making him uncomfortable and difficult to put down.
"I'm sorry," you uttered, stepping closer to pat his head, a common and welcomed gesture from you. "I didn't mean to. I don't know who the hell put this here."
H.E.R.B.I.E. beeped again as you motioned to the still toppled coat hangar.
"What do you mean this has always been here? I've literally never seen this before." you said, as H.E.R.B.I.E. helped you put it right again.
He beeped again, taunting you as he had once again caught you where you shouldn't be long after the sun had made its final appearance. Only unlike the rest of the family, you couldn't hide your true intentions from H.E.R.B.I.E. as he knew of everything that took place in his home.
You were lucky he was willing to keep your secret. He may have been the most technologically advanced being on the planet, but he was a sucker for drama.
"I don't think I have to answer that," you whispered back. Partially because you weren't sure you could get the answer out. The thought itself already left you feeling flush.
Another light flickered on, this time in the room opposite of the nursery as the sound of hardwood meeting harder feet sent alarm bells ringing in your mind.
"Shit," you cursed, ducking behind the door before it could open. You had only barely made it into the dark as Ben opened the door to his room and scanned the hallway through a squint, stopping when he came upon the robot you had left behind.
"H.E.R.B.I.E? What are you doing?" he asked, voice rough from sleep. "And where did you get that coat hanger from?"
You gave the robot a look, detectable by his night vision, as if you told him so.
He beeped a ‘your welcome’, though truly he didn't mind taking the fall for you.
"Uh oh," Ben sighed. "You're malfunctioning again. That won't be fun to tell Reed in the morning-"
You didn't catch the rest of their conversation as you jumped for the last door at the very edge of the hallway, bracing gentle fingers against the smooth metal handle and slipping inside without any more ruckus. You closed it just as carefully, leaning against the door as you let out a sigh of relief. Another night of no detection.
"Hey beautiful," you heard, forcing your head up towards the flirt you had endured so much to see. And fuck, he was a sight indeed.
Johnny Storm.
His voice sent shock waves of excitement rolling down your spine, especially when he called you things like that, things that shouldn't have made you want him in the way you did. Things he had probably said to a hundred girls before you.
But when he gazed at you with those wide blue eyes, with nothing short of the purest desire, you couldn't bring yourself to care if he had been with a thousand girls before you. Likely during you too. None of them had ever made it to his bedroom nor had the privilege of seeking him out in the middle of the night.
He was standing against the far side of his bay window, taking in your pajama clad form in a room nearly void of light save for the white shine from the moon. It was full tonight, brushing the tops of the surrounding skyscrapers that formed the city's horizon. The rest was a dull yellow, emitted from Johnny's right hand as he outstretched it to form the soft flames. Just enough to highlight the details of your face.
"Johnny." you greeted.
A view like that, one only the tallest pillars of society could afford, and all he wanted to look at was you.
"All that racket out there, just for me?"
"Don't be so cocky," you rolled your eyes, though you failed to suppress the grin that snuck up on you. He wasn't wrong, you couldn't think of any of your past flings that you would willingly risk so much for. "That was obviously H.E.R.B.I.E."
"Uh huh," Johnny quirked a brow, pushing off of his place on the wall. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."
Usually your meetings weren't quite so impromptu or were at least proceeded by some semblance of a plan. You'd never sought him out all on your own accord, but there was something special about the night. You had been restless in your own room and you felt like caving to selfish desires.
"Well-" you began, straightening as he crossed the room, slowly, tauntingly, taking each step in a slow stride. "We both have full schedules tomorrow, with lab work and the media. And honestly this weekend's pretty busy for me too so…" you drawled, your intentions implied from many weeks of pleasurable history.
That's when he reached you, his flameless hand tucking away several loose hairs as his fingers moved to the bottom of your chin, nudging your jaw up higher. He held his fire a safe distance from your figure, but despite his efforts, his touch still felt inordinately warm. It always did.
"Is that all?"
He was smirking, annoyingly attractive as he had been the day you started your unconventional embarkment together. His expression was only complimented by the angles of his face, all sharp and pointed.
"And I figured you’d be awake." you added.
"I was doing a little task," he admitted, omitting the reason. "-but I wouldn't mind starting something else."
He tipped your head up higher, soft lips parting at the skin below your jaw as he pressed a kiss to your neck. Warmth bloomed in the pit of your stomach, a kind not born from the sting of Johnny's flames, but just as hot and uncomfortable, longing for more.
"Next time," you breathed, reaching a hand around to feel the taut muscles of his back through his tight white shirt. "You're coming to my room."
You braced your other hand against his head, pulling him closer, deeper though he remained impossibly slow. Johnny liked to take his time with you, feeling you writhe with desire until it was unbearable. Then, watching you fall apart was even more satisfying. You were sure the routine was to boost his already overflowing quantity of self-worth, but you didn't mind as long as he was making you feel this good. There was a valid reason behind its large capacity.
"Yes, ma'am." he mumbled against your skin.
Your eyes fluttered shut as he worked his way down, pressing gentle kiss after gentle kiss down the column of your throat as if any ounce of intensity would break the delicate skin. When they opened, they wandered to his vinyl nook, taking notice of the influx of torn envelopes, all various sizes and colors. Letters were strewn messily atop of them, most written by hand and accompanied by big blue hearts and posters with a familiar flaming face.
"Oh my god," you laughed, Johnny breaking away from your neck to see what was causing you to react with such glee. "Were you reading your fan mail?!"
You were grinning as you left his side to investigate, turning over the unorderly stack to find a concerningly large pile of unopened letters, each addressed to him from various female names with attached New York addresses and even a few from out of state.
"You were!"
"It would be rude not to," Johnny argued, never one to feel embarrassed. You can't recall a single time you'd seen him look ashamed. "I'd hate for all that effort to be wasted by just throwing them away."
"Oh, don't act so noble," you grinned. "You're such an egoist."
Unbothered, he shook his head at your teasing and moved to where you were standing, picking through all he's already read in his big blue chair. He lifted the needle off of the record you didn't even notice was playing. He was too distracting.
"Whoa, some of these are bad." you cringed, looking back to Johnny as you scanned one of the letters he had already opened. "'I've fireproofed my sheets when you're ready to heat?' That's not even grammatically correct."
"Someone sounds jealous." retorted Johnny, sneaking behind you to slip his flameless hand around your waist, flames licking the page you're holding enough to char the top corners. He watched a small portion of delicate paper burn and wilt from the vantage point of your shoulder.
"I'm just observing," you tried, but again, he wasn't exactly wrong. The knowledge that Johnny had a past of spending long nights with a few of his fans induced a bit of envy. Not that you should care, you weren't his girlfriend and you were fine not holding any sort of claim over him. Though, you did prefer staying in the dark when others got to feel what you enjoyed many nights. "You know I don't get sent things like this and I definitely don't have my own fan club-"
Johnny tore the letter out of your grasp with his unignited hand, tossing it behind him as he spun you into his bed, extinguishing his flames with a simple flick as he lowered himself to kiss you roughly. Warm hands met your cheek and stomach as he pressed you into the mattress. Your insides were whirling, a feeling you couldn't get enough of with him. You chased it.
"Fuck," you moaned into his mouth as Johnny's hands, ever prying, moved to duck into the waist band of your pajama pants, slipping over to brush exactly where you were craving him. You bucked up into him, meeting his skilled fingers as they traced rough outlines over you, stimulating the most sensitive. "Johnny…"
"Baby…" he smiled.
He pressed another searing kiss to your neck though this one was much more assertive, followed by another to your collar bone and then one at your abdomen, just over the thin material of your pajama shirt, moving downward almost too quickly for you to process.
"Let's give them something to really be jealous of," he smirked, lifting up your shirt to plant a kiss to the skin just below your belly button as one of his hands left your center to help you kick off your pants, your underwear quick to follow in a discarded mess of fabric on the floor, close to the pile of envelopes that were equally neglected. "Hmm?"
You nodded, eager to receive exactly what had brought you. You looked down to watch as his hands took hold of your thighs, moving your legs to rest comfortably over his shoulders as his grip tightened, just bordering on painful. His eyes stared into yours as he dipped down, soaking up your reaction as his tongue slid along your slick in the rhythm he knew sent you over the edge, flicking out of pattern every so often to retain the pleasure in unpredictability. You ground into him, back arching and head pressing back into his mattress as you reached out for his sheets, gripping them so tight, they'd have to be ironed to get the wrinkles out in the morning.
"Fuck, that feels so good," you mewled.
You felt Johnny chuckle against you, but he didn't slow. Just persisted long into the night until the two of you were spent enough to sleep.
When you awoke, naked and sweaty, but warmer than you could achieve in your own bed with your blankets, it took everything in you to leave the comfort behind. You knew it was the right course of action, carefully peeling Johnny's arm off of your waist as he slept soundly beside you and picking up your clothes as daybreak started to shine into his window. You had just gotten your head through your shirt when you noticed it, an envelope placed on one of Johnny's record stacks, separated from the others that hadn't moved from their piles. You hadn't noticed it before. Johnny must've thought it special.
Curiosity got the best of you as you picked the small blue envelope, pulling out a white piece of printer paper that had been folded into fourths to fit. You unfolded it carefully, silent enough so as to not wake the snoozing man just feet away.
"Dear Human Torch," it read in untidy blue writing.
"Thank you for saving my kitten in Centennial Park. I was very scared until you helped him. I named him Storm after you. You're my favorite superhero. I think you're very brave. My dad helped me write this, but I drew the picture all by myself! I hope you like it.
"Love, Madeline, Age 6."
Below was a crayon masterpiece worthy of any refrigerator, one that depicted Johnny in all his flaming glory handing a grey cat to a waiting girl below, picturesque and smiling as were most things from the mind of a child. Your heart was bursting, tearing at the seams.
You folded it back up and replaced it, slipping out before Johnny could catch you swelling with so much feeling.
God, you hated seeing things like this. Small parts of Johnny that reminded you of why he was so deserving of his title. He may have paraded around like the hottest thing since flying cars, but he was also brave and kind, thoughtful and willing to help where help was needed regardless of how big (or miniscule) the task. He was a hero, through and through.
It made you fall for him, even more than you already had, and that was a very dangerous position to be in.
The two of you were not supposed to be together. End of conversation.
It wasn’t just Johnny that you were banned from touching. Truthfully, you weren't supposed to be with anyone from Earth 828, but of all the eligible bachelors, Johnny was by far the worst choice for a silly little lust affair.
You'd been sent to Earth only a few months prior, chosen by your comrade, Doctor Strange, and occasional mentor, Bruce Banner, when a multiversal threat appeared and you were the best pick to explore it. Not only did you have the powers to handle most threats in the cosmos as a wielder of telekinetics as well as reality bending when you could summon the strength, but you were also extremely intelligent, a protege of Tony Stark himself before the man's honorable sacrifice.
It took weeks to get the mission together, theory after theory followed by test after test until it was discovered that rather than an equation, your own powers served as the catalyst that would allow anyone from your Earth to travel through parallel realities. Naturally, you were the best candidate to be sent out after that. But even with all the studies, all the work, and all the geniuses that powered the expedition, the rush to send you into the unknown left a crucial variable unaccounted for: how to get back.
Stuck in a world that wasn't yours, you tried everything you could to find this world's equivalent of the Avenger's Tower, ending up at the Baxter Building instead as they shared exact coordinates. In fact there was no Avenger’s Tower as Earth 828 had no Avengers at all. Not even Tony Stark existed here, a drastic difference from the New York you hailed from. But much like everything else that differed from your world, the city you were stuck in housed a worthy equivalent.
The Fantastic Four were widely celebrated in their own corner of the multiverse, quick to take you in when you strolled into the Baxter Building wearing strange clothes and claiming to be from an alternate dimension. They dealt with so much weird on the daily, just having defeated the great Galactus, you had no trouble convincing them that your situation was real and not born from an episode of psychosis.
Now, after months of living amongst the four you were glad to embrace their technicolor world that was decades behind your own, but somehow incredibly more advanced technologically. You found something much more fulfilling than the mission of saving an alternate dimension from a world consuming villain. You found a family.
At least for the moment.
Reed continued to search for a solution on how to get you back to your own planet, the task immediately replacing every other item on his priority list for your own sake as well as his. Backed by unbreakable determination and a sprinkle of competitiveness, he aimed to unpuzzle your problem without ‘cheating’ by using your powers. Cross-universal travel, he named it, his obsession only worsening when you had accidentally disclosed your own qualifications to be solving such a problem in a casual conversation. He took you on immediately, offering you the fine position of temporary lab assistant and lead consultant on all queries that spanned the multiverse.
It was exhausting at times, but you were happy to have something to do. And as the weeks turned into months with no viable answers, you were promoted to Reed Richard’s official lab hand.
Sue, you learned, was not only extremely powerful and a wonderful mother, but most importantly the balancing force in your work relationship with her husband.
Reed often forgot that he himself was a living breathing person who needed rest and recuperation from research. With you, he needed constant reminders. It wasn’t out of cruelty, but pure unbridled excitement for the new genre of physics you were helping him unlock. Sue was vital in making sure you had enough energy to keep helping him.
For every late night Reed kept you in the lab, Sue made sure you were given a full day off, even gifting you free reservations to Sips and Suds, her favorite local spa that doubled as a soda joint though you had yet to take her up on her offer. She even prepared a special room for you to live in, setting your occupancy limit at whenever you grew too sick of the family to stay in the Baxter Building, but you never did.
With Ben and H.E.R.B.I.E. thrown into the mix, you were set up with just about the nicest family ever. They weren't perfect, even their 60s utopia had its sufferings (though they didn’t compare to the horrors from your world). The four all had their flaws and they fought, often, like any normal family. But even in the tensest of situations, they always managed to forgive each other and move on, for the sake of the world and the love outlasted any quarrels.
You were grateful they were willingly to share with you, offering more than the mere slice you were expecting, but the full deal. The longer you stayed, the closer you became to the four. Now, you were as good as family too.
There was only one issue to the paradise you had stumbled into from a world far away and he slept across the residential floor from you, the man who had caused you so much internal confliction.
But he was too enticing to stay away from.
You liked Johnny from the moment he introduced himself to you, sauntering up to you back when you were still a stranger. You knew his type, the kind who didn't view women as long term commitments, but as time went on he proved to be a good companion. Undoubtedly the biggest and blondest golden retriever personality you had ever met besides Spider-Man, whoever he was behind his mask. You couldn’t remember his name, but it didn't matter in a world he wasn’t in.
Johnny started out as exclusively your friend. A good friend even, the kind that patrolled the city together in the late afternoon and stayed up late trading stories, his mainly informative so you could better understand your new reality while yours answered his burning prompts, detailed enough for him to become immersed in your history. He could be self centered, yes, and occasionally crude, but you found his company quite enjoyable.
Johnny didn't just see you as a multiversal conquest or a vessel for studying reality crossing like Reed did. Sure, he found you fascinating, but he never failed to acknowledge the human being that lived underneath, assuring you that it was your character he was interested in, even more than where you were sent from. You used to think it was one of the purest friendships you'd ever forged, including those you’d left back home.
Then you slept with him. And everything you once knew, the reality you had finally grown used to, was altered.
The exact arrangements had been made during one of your late night escapades after putting away another antagonist of the week and sharing a bowl of H.E.R.B.I.E.'s homemade goulash. You had rendered Johnny dumbfounded, admitting that despite the flexible hours of the clubs back home, you had never spent a night out on the town. Though you protested, he wouldn’t let you crawl back to your room until he could take you out dancing, his decade’s equivalent. He helped you get ready, showing you one of the best nights of your life and looking at you differently as you twirled in his hold.
It was only a suggestion, something that would occur exactly once for experimental purposes against the brick wall of a dark alleyway where Johnny's flaming hair was the only light in sight, testing the bounds of how far two people could go from different worlds. Afterwards, you and Johnny went your separate ways, under the verbal agreement that it was nothing more than harmless fun. You could go on as the close friends you had become.
And you did. But the late nights didn't stop.
One night turned into two. Then ten. Then when the nights were full, you found time in the middle of the day until now you and Johnny hooked up so often that you couldn't keep track of all the times you'd been with him. He was an indulgence that had morphed into routine.
He was good at checking in on you at first, making sure you both felt the same about the habits you had developed. Close friends with an appetite to be casual interdimensional fuck buddies. And when he wasn’t in you, he was the person you trusted the most.
You agreed to everything for the first few months, blind to the tensions stirring until they were too strong to ignore. Johnny stopped checking, fun becoming the assumption for all your meetings just as you started to suffer from the feelings you were never supposed to have.
It didn't help that Johnny was extremely attractive, always flirting and mumbling sweet nothings that didn't mean nearly as much to him as they did to you. And he was so good in bed, well practiced and always wanting to please you. It was a factor in his own enjoyment as Johnny couldn’t have a good time unless he was showing you one.
As if being head over heels for your only real friend and one of the most flirty superheroes in the cosmos wasn't bad enough, you were still banned from seeing each other by very valid external forces.
Physical intimacy as an outer world species was extremely ill advised.
It was one of the first questions Reed asked you when you started joining him in the lab. He didn't see it as a personal question, solely focused on the science and the complications of your existence in his world. He wanted to limit any negative variables, anything that could result in the injury of yourself or another being. There was no telling the consequences of seeking such a close relationship with someone made of other worldly matter.
It hadn't been a lie when you answered, promising that you weren't in the market for any kind of "sexual exploration" as Reed had called it. Even then you'd been attracted to Johnny, but you didn't see yourself ending up where you were now, wrapped around his heated finger. As much as you wanted something more, you were sure he didn't.
He wasn't exactly renowned for his fidelity.
That was the only problem, as much as you hated to admit it, it stung to sort through old headlines with Johnny's name, his arm around the waist of another. You'd been curious one night alone in the lab, tortured by all of the models and perfect beauties he had claimed before you.
Still having a piece of him was better than not having him at all. And what you had was fun as it was. You didn't have to be subjected to his image with another when he was with you, sneaking around, making out on the kitchen counter, and covering your mouth when you were too loud in the dead of night. And now after months of adapting to his world, you had him all the time.
You couldn't give him up.
Even during your busiest weeks, you and Johnny found time that you really didn’t have. Getting caught became more probable, riskier, but you couldn't stop and neither could he. His appearances became an explosion of spontaneity, going off frequently.
You were putting away clothes in your room for media day, storing each immaculate outfit Sue over the months had helped pick out for you so that you could dress with the times when you heard a knock on your door.
Three short rasps. His secret code. The same one he used every time, reserved just for you.
"Come in!" you shouted, tucking away the last of your pants and taking a seat on your bed, greeting Johnny with a smile when he did finally walk in. He stepped fully in, but didn't shut the door, hanging on the handle like it was a tether.
"I'm about to hop in the shower," he informed you, bypassing his usual flirty greeting.
"Okay,” you shrugged, as if you weren’t smart enough to decode his message. “Did you have something you wanted to tell me?"
Johnny shook his head, smirking.
"What I want is for you-” he pointed. “-to join me." He retracted his pointer finger, tapping it gently against his bottom lip.
"We have to be ready for two large press conferences in an hour." you informed him, though he was already well aware of your absence of time.
"I know, but Reed and Sue are out with Franklin and Ben is still asleep, I checked.”
He stepped forward, pulling you up from your bed and cradling your face in his hand.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips, pressing a begging kiss that you grinned into. “I haven't seen you in so long…"
Your head pulled from his hold as you chuckled, shaking your head.
"We fucked two days ago," you reminded him. "Not including what happened yesterday during my lab break."
"I remember," Johnny smirked.
He wasn’t used to you relenting. Neither were you as saying yes had become a pleasant reflex. Something was changing, brewing inside your lively heart that was getting tired of no confirmed reciprocation. There were little signs, his arm around your waist when you fell asleep in his bed, but it worsened the ache knowing he didn’t see his actions how you did.
"So is that a no?" he asked, his tone not hopeful, but confident that it wasn’t.
Of course it wasn't.
You'd never turned him down before, even when the only options for privacy were a storage closet on the set of The Ted Gilbert Show. You'd been extra smiley during that interview, attempting to explain the not-so-simple basics of interdimensional travel to the whole world with much more enthusiasm than it required.
Now, you were sure that same bubbly girl would make a reappearance as Johnny pressed you into the tile wall, mouth hot against your neck, hand on your hip and knee rubbing you in between your thighs under the stream of lukewarm water, the temperature he set the shower only when you accompanied him. You had both hands wrapped around his head, fingers grasping at the short blonde strands as he bent one of your legs to fit around him, the thigh slotted between yours rubbing firmer against your dripping center.
No more than fifteen minutes had passed since you hopped in with him and you’d already come once on his fingers. Now, he was curious to test how quickly he could get you to finish without them. Spoiler, he was very close.
Your eyes wandered down the expanse of his body, slick from the stream of water. He looked larger than life with clothes on, tight pants and shirts that clung to his biceps and exaggerated his sharp edges. Without them? He was godly. Shit, you could probably come from just staring at him.
You bit your lip as you sank into the feeling of his hard body slotted against yours, humming through a groan at the thought of his perfect abs and perfect waist.
You managed a hand down his wet chest, following the stream of water as you reached below his waist. He felt rigid in your hand as you tugged, forcing a shudder through his body.
"Oh my god," he cursed, lips leaving the red marks he had made on your neck as his head rolled back. You squeezed the base, palming the length before sinking back down again. "Fuck! I love when you do that."
"This?" you asked, repeating the motion and revealing in the way he groaned at your touch, bucking into your hand as his thigh rubbed against you again.
"Fuck, yes! You're so fucking good when you surprise me." he sighed, lips chasing yours again before another tug ripped another perfect moan out of him.
Suddenly, you heard the squeal of the bathroom door pulling open as someone unexpected entered.
You paused, lowering your leg to stand on both shaken feet on the ceramic floor of the shower as you looked for the silhouette of the intruder.
"I thought you said Sue and Reed were gone?!" you whispered, grateful for the loud rush of water that muffled your voice from your uninvited guest.
"They are,” Johnny confirmed. “This isn't another surprise is it?"
You shook your head, not even slightly entertained by the joke. As if you would ever share your precious moments with him.
"Johnny?" a voice asked.
You recognized it instantly after living with the family for so long, eyes widening and heart racing.
Ben had woken up.
"Shit!" Johnny whispered, pulling from you to hide your naked figure behind his own.
While his cover was decent, you ducked to prevent any chance of being spotted, hiding behind the porcelain lips of the tub that were lengthy enough to afford you certainty. As long as no one opened the curtain that concealed you, no one would spot your crouched position.
"Johnny? Who are you talking to?" Ben asked.
"Myself," Johnny replied promptly.
"Practicing for television again? I haven't heard you do that since we started these things."
You would've laughed had you not been too afraid of discovery.
"No, its- its something else. What are you doing?"
Ben was silent for a moment, answering with the whir of his angle grinder that changed pitch as he brought it to his rocky face, wearing down the stones that had elongated overnight.
"Shaving. We have to be ready in thirty minutes."
Reaching up a hand, you waved at Johnny, motioning for him to kick Ben out. Even if you didn't get to finish your morning, you refused to get caught this way, naked and vulnerable.
"Could you do that when I'm out?" Johnny asked, following your request. “Or like, literally anywhere else?”
"You’re fine with it normally, I don't see what the big deal is." Ben groaned, sparks flying outside the curtain as he reached the roughest patch on the outskirts of his rocky cheek.
"Alright," Johnny relented until you lightly kicked his shin, shaking your head vehemently and mouthing a reply for him to use. "I mean, no, we should enforce some boundings?" He read your lips. "Oh, I mean, boundaries."
"Are you okay in there?" Ben wondered, the silhouette of his head turning to the shower curtain as you sucked in a breath. "You sound a little enflamed?"
You nodded at Johnny, scared that Ben was close to opening the curtain. You weren’t how comfortable they'd become with each other and you didn’t want to find out.
"Yeah, all good.” Johnny urged. “Can't you finish up later?"
"I-I guess. I'm almost done."
"Okay then." Another kick to his shin, this time harder. "Ow! I mean no. You should finish later."
Much to your relief, you heard the sound of Ben unplugging his grinder as he opened the door.
"Jesus, I guess I'll use Reed's." Ben huffed, but he didn’t stick around any longer.
You rose to your knees as he left, peeking out into the spacious bathroom to confirm he had closed the door behind him.
"That was a close one," Johnny laughed lightly, relief washing over his face as well. "Now, where were we?"
"We aren't doing anything else until you promise me that next time, you'll lock that fucking door." you glared, pulling your head back in as you looked up at him.
Johnny rolled his eyes, but it was a simple order to follow. His smile returned to him as he nodded, a sign of promise.
"Good?"
"Yes, but I have so many questions for you,” you grinned teasingly. “Practice interviews? Sharing the bathroom while you're showering?"
"Flame me all you want later. We don't have time for that right now."
"In that case," you inched closer, keeping your spot on the ground as you reach up for his lower abs, running your nails down the smooth skin and taking the length of his into your hands again. "I have an idea on how to speed this up."
You closed your eyes as you took him into your mouth, sucking hard and rolling your tongue along him in the way you knew helped him the most.
"I like - where you heads at." Johnny hurried out through sudden breaths and pauses, a hand rushing down to take root in your hair while the other intertwined with your own against his stomach, stabilizing you even whilst you did him such a gracious favor.
That hand plagued you for the rest of the day, popping into your mind during every interview and even preventing you from answering a question. A very easy one at that, from a small girl who wanted to know what it was like to move in with Earth's mightiest heroes. Hers at least, you had grown up with very different role models.
The thought of your life now with Johnny reminded you of dressing with him when the shower finally turned off, how he had offered to zip your dress before you could even ask and complimented you with a kiss to your temple when he saw you in it through the mirror.
"You should've made Sue choose something less flattering," Johnny gave a faux-complaint through a smile. "You're taking all the heat from the rest of us."
It was different from his usual flattery, a word you dreaded using when you were with Johnny. Intimate. Special.
You were so out of it by the final interview, Reed let you skip it as even he, a mathematical genius who had a hard time picking up on most emotions, noticed you were off. You played it off as fatigue, but truly you were grateful to get a moment away from Johnny as all your feelings rushed back up to the surface.
He made it worse when he checked in on you, not looking for any kind of fun, but just making sure you were okay. You weren't used to the doting. Johnny was your good friend, but between the late nights and all your various private moments, he hadn't acted like your friend in a while.
It ached knowing you could never be more, but it burned whenever Johnny reminded you how much he cared for you.
You let him in though when he brought his favorite cereal, sharing crunches with you as you played it off as home sickness, sharing with him some niche aspect of your world that you hadn't told him already. You didn't really miss home, as awful as the thought was. You just needed something to distract him with, a deflection so that he wouldn't look too close and know the truth behind your flying signals. Turning him away would've led to the same realization.
You thought it couldn't hurt, venting about how different the media was here, how you missed your favorite film. In turn, Johnny offered to show you one of his own, something that sounded similar, something popular.
That film ended up being a variation of West Side Story and while it was similar to the version from your own world, much of the plot had changed to fit in with the subtle differences in his world's history.
You thought you'd get a break the next day, a chance to reset as Johnny took his turn patrolling the city. With few villain outbreaks since the baby proofing of New York, only one of you was required to go out at a time, if that. You knew what he did when you weren’t around, chatting up the local ladies between acts of heroism. Not that you should care, if anything the thought should've helped you get over him, help you return to when it was casual. You had work to do anyways.
You bussied yourself in Reed's lab, flipping through page after page as a favor to Sue who so badly wanted her husband to take the day off, spending it with his only son. It took a lot of convincing on yours, Sue's and Ben's part, but eventually you were able to wear him down. You swore it wouldn't be an inconvenience, looking over test results and various other mundane, mindless tasks. Though quite honestly, you knew exactly where you wanted to be instead.
Back under a shower stream, with his hands wrapped around you, pressing pure warmth into your back as you melted into his sturdy frame, blissed out and mindless as he pumped into you…
Or in his room, spread before him like a feast, hands in his hair with his mouth on your abdomen, trailing kisses down until...
You sighed, setting your packet down. Numbers bored your wandering mind, forcing it to drift into scenarios you didn't really want to think about. Not when they risked everything you'd built in the short time you were here. Not when they risked ruining your closest friendship. And if it was so casual, something for just fun, why did it vex you so? You didn't think a single day had passed in the last few months where all you thought about was seeing Johnny again, completely and utterly obsessed.
But you just couldn't stop.
You're wrapping up the last mindless tasks you can, skipping over any work that involved calculations or required a skill you might easily mess up in your pining haze. Just tidying and stacking, easy, simple. You were shocked when a voice rang from behind you, smooth and piercing as heat filled the air.
“Have you always looked that good in a lab coat?”
You jerked up, genuinely surprised. You couldn’t imagine what brought Johnny here during his shift, but it's as if your thoughts were an outspoken order as he leaned in close, arms wrapping around you as he planted a kiss to your jawline.
“Johnny? What happened to saving damsels in distress today?”
“What do you think I'm doing now?" he grinned, pressing another kiss into your neck, much too close to your pulse point. He was warm, fresh off of flying in flames around the city. At least you assumed so, but he was back long enough to trade out of his typical hero wear for his typical tight number and the red jacket you once told him you liked. Seeing him in it now reminded you of why and you wondered if he dawned it on purpose. A tactic to get what he was really after. "You can't honestly be happy doing Reed's bidding.”
"I'm just helping out with this study.” you gathered the papers in your reach to finish another stack. “I owe him after all he's done for me and all he's doing to help me."
"Is it so wrong that I also want to help you?" he chuckled, spinning you around in your chair so you could meet his gaze. "In a special way -a relaxing way. We have an appointment."
His lips slipped down the column of your neck, slowly as your shoulders gave an involuntary roll upwards and your stomach started to fold in on itself. You didn’t feel as attractive as he was making you out to be, basically clad in a pajama set. Indeed this ‘appointment’ was entirely unscheduled.
"I don't remember planning this." you argued, giving in to his touch. He may have been the source of your unhappiness, but he was very good at making it go away.
"We totally did," he lied, head lifting as he pulled you from your chair. "But give me fifteen minutes and I promise I'll earn your forgiveness."
You nearly caved, standing so that your feet were falling backwards towards your work table as Johnny’s teeth met your skin. You raised an unsteady hand, urging your organized stacks to float over to Reed’s desk with your powers, ensuring your work would not be wasted. The rest you left alone, unbothered by the prospect of them being disturbed by sudden movements. You weren’t motivated to fix them now as your lower back met the edge of the desk.
Johnny pulled at your lab coat, smiling as the white fabric dropped from your shoulder. His hand followed, gliding down your skin and beneath the white sleeve as he willed it to lower even more, his touch leaving goosebumps in its fiery wake.
He leaned into you, helping you onto the desk as his hand slid up one of the legs of your ruffled pajama shorts, feeling up the curve of your thigh before toying with the lacy hem of your panties.
“Reed could be back any minute.” you warned, a piece of you still strangely relenting. You wanted this, but the pain of the past sting panged in your chest. Because it was something different for him, something without all the complications of romance.
“He won’t,” Johnny promised, sealing his words with a kiss to your mouth as moved a hand to smooth back strands of your loose hair. “If he’s with my sister, she’s going to keep him busy for a while. Last time I was with them, they couldn’t agree on a color for Franklin’s cradle."
You stared down at his hot mouth, practically drooling now. You couldn’t lie, you've pictured him taking you here before, despite the ethical complications of fucking in his brother-in-law's lab. But as long as Reed didn’t know and Johnny was so willing, you couldn’t come up with a reason to stop.
“Well in that case…” you smiled, caving completely as you reached out to pass a hand over the smooth surface of his chest, hands slipping under the jacket you were so fond of.
Johnny didn't waist a single second, standing in between your legs as he peppered your neck with rough kisses your neck, leaving red marks that somewhat resemble the burns his powers leave. The bruises from your last encounter had yet to heal and here he was, adding new pieces as if your neck was an art installation.
When he hit the neckline of your pajamas, he slipped a hand under the fabric, his other still tracing small patterns on the softest part of your inner thigh. You adjust so he can move it over the sports bra you picked for lounging in the lab, one of the only clothes you had from your own Earth. He dragged the top of it down until one of your breasts popped out, the other quick to follow.
Johnny lifted his head, making a deep sound from the back of his throat as he eyes you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you, a dangerous desire brewing in his stare.
"So fucking perfect," he groaned, leaning down to take one of you succulent nipples into his hot mouth, tongue smoothing over the bump in such a way that makes the backs of your ankles jerk against the edge of the table. It's sudden, unpredictable, his movements evoking such a reaction from you.
He palmed your other breast in his free hand, moving down to stroke your side until his grip met your hips and up again. His other hand has migrated up, pulling at the band of your shorts until he had enough space to fit a hot hand against your sensitive skin, palming and fingering your already dampened folds.
Your mouth fell open as your head jerked back, hands sneaking under the jacket as you traced the outline of his taunt back muscles through his tight cotton shirt. You were clawing at him, scraping the fabric each time he tugged your nipple in between his teeth.
It's not long before he deemed you ready, helping you slip off your bottoms as he pulled the end of his belt out of its buckle.
Johnny pressed the two fingers that had been working you up to your mouth, dragging your bottom lip down until the plush surface was too far, grinning as it snapped back into place. You opened wide for him, tasting remnants of yourself on the pads of his slick fingers and wrapped your lips around them, licking them clean.
You were still tight when Johnny had finally managed to shimmy off his own pants, stretching your walls as he entered you, gasping as you grasped for the red fabric of his jacket to keep him close.
"Oh fuck," you moaned, mouth slacked open as he filled you up to your entirety, so much so that your feel him in the pit of your stomach.
He grinned at you, lips parted in satisfaction as he watched you fall apart, pulling out and back in again, purposefully slow so you feel every inch in its intended intensity as he gives and takes at will.
“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all day.” he confessed.
There it is again.
The pang in your chest, the shortness of breath, the swirl of panic. He’s done it again and at exactly the wrong time.
It burned inside you, the feelings perhaps that you refuse to acknowledge, but inflamed by something more. The possibility of reciprocation. The slight chance that Johnny, a man no one thought could be tied down by his match.
And that match was you.
He had never crossed the bounds like this. He was a good lover, probably your favorite out of all the guys you had back home, but he’s never gone as far as to let you know that he thinks about you outside the world you sneak away to and leave behind when you were too weary to continue. Moments that you stole and pretended to forget about.
He didn’t seem as deep in pondering as you were, rolling into you as his hot breath met your neck with a moan. But he didn’t stop, You were a dessert he couldn’t get enough of.
It was not as pleasant as you had hoped, Johnny's words of adoration. You thought you would be overjoyed, knowing that they were more than his typical sweet nothings, but the fear that it was fleeting, that it was still mere flattery to help you get to the climax is overpowering, squashing any pleased stirrings.
You made a mess when you finished, groaning as Johnny pulled out leaving you empty and hurting because as much as you wanted to believe it, you were sure Johnny's view of you hadn't changed. It couldn’t, he wouldn't be Johnny without his charm.
Despite your best interests, you denied him when he offered to help you clean up, handing you your discarded panties as he fastened his pants back up. Usually he would've helped you into them, but he could sense something was off. You weren’t as jubilant as you had been when he treated you so well in the past.
“You sure?” he checked again, just to be sure your answer hadn’t changed. “Not even a quick rinse? I’ll even lock the door this time.” he shot you that sly smile, the one that had drawn you to him since your arrival.
“Not this time. I really have to finish this.” you refused, settling back down in your chair and summoning the papers that had cascaded to the floor with a wave of your hand. No matter how great, you ignored your discomfort that truly would be solved by a warm shower stream and continued sorting through the files. You really didn’t have to, you knew Reed wouldn't be upset if you couldn’t finish in time, but you couldn’t spend another moment with Johnny, especially not doing an activity that was performed by real couples, something you were not.
“Alright,” Johnny nodded, hesitating to ask if you were okay so much so that you wondered if you were fabricating the genuine care in his voice. He decided against it, placing his hands on your shoulders instead and pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
Then he left. Once last glance your way, one you didn’t notice, and then total silence.
And it’s by yourself that you let the facade crumble, wiping fresh tears from your eyes so they don’t smudge the ink on Reed’s precious pages.
You never knew the best course of action to handle your situation, but now, alone and devastated by his sweetness, you were motivated to end it. That was the only way to cease the pain. Because Johnny Storm would never belong to anyone.
And he could never belong to you.
Oh how you wished you could return to when it was casual, letting him clean you up as he always did after hookups (or so you imagined as he couldn’t damage the gentleman image behind the Human Torch) and morphing into your very platonic friend, someone you could never see yourself close with. There was a clear divider, an indication of the Johnny who wanted to jump you and the Johnny who didn't.
Now he was all the same.
The touches and kind whispers and the wanting you every minute of everyday, there was no difference. No alter ego. He was Johnny who wanted you at your best and worst all the time and lived for whatever you were willing to give him.
You were in your room later, watching the news before you had to attend family dinner and pretend you were not surfing a downward spiral, pretending your mind wasn’t spinning in circles like a dog chasing its tail. You chose the most unflatting outfit in your closet, searching through whatever Johnny hadn't complimented you in recently which was so hard because now he always did. Hell, he thought you were hot in a hazmat suit. It left you with very few options.
“Next, all the hot goss on New York's favorite flaming hero,” the news broadcaster spoke from your television speaker, earning your attention as photos of Johnny flashed on the screen. “Fans grow worried as days pass without a sighting of Johnny Storm. He was last spotted helping a floor of nursing home residents out of their burning home before stopping the fire at its source. Thanks to him, there was little damage and many of the occupancies remained unscorched by the flames. The last time New York went so long without a glimpse of the Human Torch was during the arrival of our new favorite addition to the Baxter Building-” an image of you joined the collage of his photos. “-who had also not been seen for quite some time. We now turn to his official fan club for the best theories to explain his extended absence."
You felt yourself smile as the camera panned over hundreds of young girls, all contributing to the same care basket that they claimed was for “fire fever” as if Johnny’s gifts gave him unique illnesses. It made you wonder why he hadn’t been out as much, choosing to stay in the house. With you.
Your thoughts still rattled around your speeding brain during dinner as you fork the feast Sue prepared. Well, at least her salad, the rest of the meal was entirely H.E.R.B.I.E.’s doing. It was delicious, but your mind was too full to enjoy it. Johnny was the forefront of your thoughts, however you hadn’t so much as passed a glance in his direction during dinner after your afternoon steaming up the lab.
“Everything go okay with those spreads?” Reed asked.
You choked on a piece of lettuce and Johnny let out a low chuckle beside you, swallowing a smirk through a bite from his own plate. A dangerous heat began swelling in your center as his hand brushed your knee.
Now this was truly unexpected.
Johnny never touched you in front of his family. It was one of the biggest unspoken agreements in your friendship. Whatever happened between you two, whatever endeavors you decided to explore, they were meant to stay private. He was violating everything you ever agreed on.
Your food churned in your stomach, but as you reached down to push him away, you found yourself moving your leg instead, just slightly, allowing him to rest his warm palm on your bare knee. It was like a spell, you were enchanted by the words uttered on the news. It was unlikely, but maybe, just maybe the reason for his hiatus had something to do with you.
Maybe there was a chance after all.
“Good,” you managed to reply after an awkward pause that you prayed no one else paid any mind to. “Well I mean, I didn’t get as much done as I had hoped to, but what’s done is good.”
You didn’t have the words for this conversation. Not when Johnny's hand was running up and down your leg and you couldn’t be sure if it was suggestive or something more. Instead you were laser focused on keeping a tight ship, making no sudden movements or expressions that would give the jig away to the family you had barely been inducted in.
Unfortunately, not every reaction was avoidable.
“Are you feeling alright?” Sue asked, sharing a look with her husband. You’re not usually one to let your words escape you. And the sweating? You’d never shown up to dinner with nerves, not even the first time when you hardly knew the people around you.
“Uh huh,” you nodded, Johnny’s hand growing achingly closer to where it was supposed to be, where you wanted it to be, selfishly, disgustingly, but it was true. You couldn’t help it.
“Are you sure?” Sue continued to pry. Second nature as a mother to Franklin and practically everyone else in the family. “You haven’t been eating much and you’re acting ... odd.”
"You look a little warm," Ben comments. You were flushed and for a second you wondered if he knew the truth, his room much too close to Johnny's to stay naive about what went on inside. But you knew he turned back to his meal, truly none the wiser.
“I do feel a bit hot.” you admitted setting down your fork.
Johnny wasn’t even looking at you when you turned to him, (despite the hidden meaning behind your excuse), his eyes narrowed in on his plate and nothing else, his hand incessant on driving you insane. It was payback for being ignored earlier, deliberately choosing to not back you up.
Cold shoulder to hot thigh.
“Are you catching something?” Sue wondered, raising in her chair as she reached over the table to feel your forehead.
“No!” you shouted before she could get too close, unveiling your secret that was inching upwards still under her nice tablecloth. “I-I’m fine, honestly. I promise.”
“If you insist,” Sue relented, flattening her skirt as she sat back down. She continued eating, but her interrogations were in no way finished. “What about you, Johnny? You’ve been acting differently lately.”
Johnny’s hand went rigid against you as his head shot up, eyes wide with intrigue.
“Have I?” Johnny asked skeptically.
“You haven’t been out in days. And you never miss the chance to make some headlines.”
“I just feel like recovering lately,” Johnny shrugged. “Maybe I'm maturing.”
“That’s likely.” Reed snorted, taking another bite of his own salad.
”I think I want to be excused.” you spoke suddenly, Johnny’s hand falling from you as you stood from your chair. A subtle frown grew on his pink lips as you cast a hand towards the sink, your plate zooming across the kitchen and into the dishwasher.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Ben checked again, always the empath despite his rocky appearance.
You nodded, feigning a smile to make your act more believable. “I promise,” you repeated. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
“Feel better!” Sue wished.
You don’t turn back as you leave the table, shaking your hand at H.E.R.B.I.E. as he offered to fetch you anything to make you feel better, even make you something different as if his culinary skills were the source of your unappetizing mood. He was intelligent for a hunk of welded metal, smarter than any robot you had in your world by a landslide. Not just programming, empathy. He understood your message quickly. That it wasn’t personal, but only that no such robotic solution existed to stitch the tear in your heart.
You figured you needed to sleep it off, slip into something comfy and drown yourself in your books so as to take up every crease of your brain. You couldn’t obsess if you couldn’t think. About Johnny’s perfect body and his soft lips and the way he warmed under your touch whenever you…no! You had to stop.
But even as you tried to avoid him, his special knock sounds from your door. Three short rasps. Same as always.
It was late, several hours since the embarrassment that was dinner. You doubted anyone else was still up, besides poor Franklin, who slept only when sleep had the decency to come to him. Prime time for your usual activities.
You supposed you understood why he was here and you decided for the first time in history that it was time to extinguish the flames. Let him down easy, and get back to sulking so that your feelings could evade you in his absence. Recover from the spell he had cast on you. Whenever you could reconvince yourself that he didn’t want you.
It was with great hesitation, but you opened the door, positioning yourself at the crack to prevent him from slipping inside.
But Johnny’s concerned instead of in need, his expression contorted into a worried look you rarely saw.
“You okay?” Johnny asked, tone different from when was seeking fun in the past. You knew he wasn’t heartless, he was the people’s hero, but honestly you hadn't been expecting him to show up like this. Worried exclusively for your well being.
“Yep.” you answered curtly.
But Johnny didn’t buy it.
“Come on. You can feed that to Reed and Sue, but this is me! I’m your friend-”
“And yet, that seems to be exactly the problem.” you managed through a shaky laugh, though in all honesty, your dilemma wasn’t the slightest bit humorous.
You turned back inside, giving up on keeping Johnny out. Such a conversation, if you were really going to do this, required a confidential space.
“Problem?” Johnny repeated. “What problem? We work so well together!”
“Yes, Johnny, I know we do.”
“Then what’s the matter? You know you can be honest.” Johnny stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him as he followed you with caution.
You flopped onto your bed, pushing the book you were mindlessly flipping through to the crack between your mattress and the wall where Johnny couldn’t see it; A romance with a coincidentally blonde love interest.
“Honest? You want me to be honest?" you asked, as if the premise were unreasonable.
He nodded.
“Honestly Johnny,” you opened, taking a breath before the truth could fly out. “I don’t know what to say to you if you didn't come here for sex.”
“No,” Johnny tilted his head, but he still wasn’t grasping it. “I’m here to help you. I want to be here for you, whatever’s going on.”
It was a sweet gesture. But it stung like hell.
“And that’s exactly why I’m so hurt,” you shook your head. “Because this, being my friend, checking in on me, making sure I’m okay. It doesn’t mean the same to me that it does to you.”
There it was. The first sliver of truth.
“What?”
He was finally starting to understand.
So you continued.
“The way I look at our arrangement, it’s, well, changed,” you explained. “I used to love it. The sneaking around and being friends, but it’s not working for me anymore,
“And then I hear about how you’re acting different, staying inside, staying with me. And you say things that are so kind and caring-”
“You don’t like the things I say?” Johnny sat down beside you, voice softening. He couldn’t help himself, drawn to you like opposite magnetic poles. He placed a hand on your arm, grounding, fingers tracing the wrinkles and crease of your elbow, warm as always.
“I do,” you admitted. “But that’s not the point.”
"I’m listening." he promised, eyes on your crestfallen face.
You took a breath, plotting out your next words.”
“Recently, when you say and do these things, these grand, swooping, sweet gestures, like stroking my leg under the table and telling me I look nice, it makes me think that maybe, just maybe, I’ve won that devotion from you. And the thought hurts. Because it can never be true. Because I know your feelings haven’t changed for me.”
Neither of you spoke for a few moments, letting the weight of your words settle in the room. You stared down at your carpet, avoiding Johnny’s eyes until he broke the silence.
"Have your feelings changed?"
You paused, forgetting to admit the most important part of your declaration. His eyes were soft as you looked up, bright blue and safer than anywhere else in this strange new world. It was only one word, but you sounded it out in your mind before speaking, processing the atrocities that could follow. Nothing was worth the lie, not anymore. And besides, Johnny's gaze was transparent.
He smiled as your silence spoiled your answer, a sly look that upturns the end of his lips as you finally speak.
"Yes."
You dreamt this scenario in your worst nightmares, the vulnerability followed by Johnny calling off your arrangement and leaving you in smoke.
He stood, following the course of your bad dreams, but instead of leaving, he tightened his grip on you. Not to an unbearable point, but enough pressure to pull you with him.
"Come on," he beckoned, dragging you out of your room and lifting a finger to his parted lips as you snuck through the destitute hallways in the quiet of the night, together. As a single unit.
Though you were dying to ask, you followed behind him, hand in hand, wondering where on Earth he was taking you.
Johnny only stopped after pulling you up the stairwell and to the roof, where the cool night air blooms goosebumps on your bare arms and you can finally speak without any discovery from the others, the city sounds drowning out any conversation from above.
“Johnny, what are you-”
“I want to talk to you here, where anyone who looks hard enough can see us. Because you aren’t just some girl to me and this is important.” he informed you, standing just at the edge of the roof so that the city light illuminated his sharp jaw, shadows framing the shapes in his face.
You looked out into the sleeping city, sure that most of its inhabitants had been in bed for a while. But the meaning, the end of your secrecy, it’s one of the warmest gestures he’s ever made and this time there was no sting. No pang in your chest because this time you were sure he intended the message you’ve received. He just needed to confirm.
“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say this,” Johnny started, taking each of your hands into his warm ones. “I didn’t think I’d have to say it. I figured you’d understand it and we could just keep progressing through what we've been doing, but I see now that was cruel. You didn't deserve that and I’m sorry if I made you think you ever meant less to me than you really do.”
“I mean something to you?” you asked, the sermons of a smile sprouting on your lips.
Johnny let out a jubilant laugh, nodding urgently, one of his warm hands moving up to brace against your cheek.
“You’ve always meant something to me,” he grinned, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. “Why do you think I can’t leave this tower? Why I have to see you every single day. It’s driving me crazy. I literally can’t go a few hours without you. Since you first crash landed into New York, I cannot stop thinking about you.”
“I did not crash!” you defended.
“Sure you didn’t.” he laughed. “Crash and all, you are the most fascinating person I’ve ever met and the only person I’ve ever wanted so badly.”
“I bet you say that to all your other girls.” you quipped.
“What other girls?” Johnny countered, much to your delight. “I haven’t seen anyone since you got here.”
You wanted to cry at his statement, the crumbling of the mindset you had maintained since you started this game with him. There had never been anyone else for him, even before that first night you had spent with him, only those you constructed with your insecurities.
“I think I’m falling for you.” you admitted, leaning into his gentle careers.
“You only think?!” he exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes, for now. I’ll let you know when I’m sure,” you teased. “When you’ve earned it.”
Johnny smirked, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer.
“I might have an idea on how to accomplish that daunting task.”
“Uh-huh, and just what might that be?”
Johnny leaned his head into yours, his toothy grin visible behind his parted lips as he nudged your nose with his own.
“Why don’t you shut your pretty little mouth and find out?”
You obliged, your lips colliding with his like two stars before a supernova. It was messy and fierce, tongue and teeth clashing while your strong grip on Johnny’s waist held you steady against him.
It felt like hours had passed, kissing Johnny with every feeling, every urge you'd ever had for him. He littered bruises all along your neck, sneaking up every so often to meet your lips again through a breathless moan until you felt his hand slip up the skirt you had dawned for family dinner.
You yanked on his shirt, pressing the material over his head. Time couldn’t rob you of the endless pleasure the sight of his body brought you, no matter how many times you'd seen it. He was perfect.
He moved quickly, stripping off his shirt before robbing you of your panties and bunching up your skirt so that it covers your hips in a wrinkle thin line.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, the first compliment he's given you that you were sure he meant. You wrapped your hands around his neck, adjusting as he laid you down on the rooftop concrete, hovering over you with one hand splayed beside your head and the other sneaking down your stomach to meet your dripping center.
You were rushing tonight, quicker than the usual routine as a symptom of the night’s revolutions.
“Already?” he laughed lightly, flipping through your folds before dipping a finger inside you.
“It’s all that fucking under the table touching,” you breathed. “You did this to me.”
“Fuck,” he parted his mouth as the curse slipped out, pumping in as deep as he can reach with his finger before pulling out again. “You always feel so good.”
“Johnny,” you begged, desperate for more. “I need you.”
“And you’ll have me,” he promised, thumb rubbing against your clit. The sensation left your nose crinkled and your eyes wired shut, one of his favorite expressions. “But I want you to come on my fingers first.”
His thumb traced infinity symbols on your pulsing bundle of nerves, another finger added to the one already pumping in and out of you in the way he knew made you writhe beneath him.
It wasn't long before you came, hot arousal leaking out of you that Johnny swiped up with his swift fingers, plopping them into his mouth and sucking off your slick. The sight, the pure filth of it had you drooling through the shining stars and flames he made dance around your crown.
Your hands moved before you could think straight, tugging at Johnny’s belt and instantly undoing the button on his jeans.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he grinned at your eagerness, quick to undo his leather belt and send it flying across the rooftop into the darkness of the unknown. His pants were next, slipping down until he’s exposed enough that the tent in his boxers is braced against your thigh. You groped him through the fabric, shooting shock waves of pleasure through his entire center before pulling him out.
“Wait,” he managed through soft whimpers, pausing in the heat of the moment to help you up and take your place so that he was at your mercy beneath you. “So you don’t hurt your head.” he blurted.
“Yeah right,” you giggled, shaking your head and reaching for the hem of your own shirt, pulling it over your head in one quick motion and tossing the fabric aside. You settled on Johnny’s abs, reaching for his hand as you guided him to the clasp of your bra. He snapped in off it one go, eyes melting at the sight of you.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whimpered, watching in anticipation as you readjusted, lining up with him before languidly sidling down. He moved his hands to brace against your hips, the noises that left him too obscene for such a public space, but you matched him as he filled you up.
You both were focused on the point where you and Johnny intersect, watching intently as he slipped inside you and back out again as you raise your hips before sinking back down.
“Fuck, Johnny!” you cried.
“Just like that, shit,” he replied. “Keep it just like that, pretty girl.”
You knew you would pay for it, riding him like he could scorch all the consequences in the world that you have yet to face. But it felt so good and with every wonderful sound that leaves his mouth, you decided it truly didn’t matter. You’ll face the world for this. The whole galaxy if you had to. It was more than worth it.
Reaching up for him, you touched his face as the pace quickened, slow thrusts transitioning to loud slams as you bounced up and down, tits matching the rhythm of your movement.
“Fuck!” you bit your lip to remain quiet, fearful of the chance of others waking up to the dirty display.
Johnny only egged you on, one of his warm hands leaving your hip to rub patterns on your already overstimulated clit.
“Louder baby, let the whole world hear you.”
You couldn’t help, but do as he ordered, gasping and groaning for air as he bucked his hips up to score even deeper, hitting just the right spot that always made you dizzy with pleasure.
“Thats it, fuck,” he moaned. “You’re so fucking good. Riding me like this.”
Johnny’s hair became engulfed by his flame as he got closer, the yellow and orange flames licking the edge of the building and leaving behind black marks that you didn’t have the energy to pay any mind to. If his eyes were so far back, you were sure they’d be glowing.
You were almost there, and after a few more deep strokes you were spent, leaning back as your body twitched with release.
The two of you took your time with the reset as you hopped off of him and joined him on the concrete, poking fun at his flames and grinning as he silenced you with a kiss.
The rest of the night was a blur of sealed promises and swelling confessions. When you could stand, he dragged you down to his room, swapping your dirty clothes for a nightshirt from his closet. And for the first time, you let yourself fall asleep in Johnny's arms, free from the guilt and torment that once consumed you. Absent of the burning need to escape.
It wasn’t love, not yet, but it was certainly something close. Tangible, real, yours.
Maybe it was love. Because when you snuck out in the morning, it was long after he had woken up, sending you off with plenty of kisses of fire. You wanted to stay, but any minute longer would have increased your likelihood of being caught.
"Seriously," you let out a low laugh, pushing the greedy man away as he held you close, standing to walk you to the door with eager lips gracing your cheek. "I gotta go get ready."
"No, no you don't," Johnny stated matter-of-factly, breathing the words into your skin. "You're mine for the rest of the weekend. I’ll tell Reed you’re too sick to work."
It was a miracle that you ended up by the door in time for breakfast, incredibly messy, but happier than you had been in weeks. Johnny was on your six, touchy even after you made his morning and latched onto your back, arms chasing around your waist as you checked for any onlookers.
Unfortunately, H.E.R.B.I.E. was waiting at the end of the hallway, beeping frantically as he waved his mechanical arms, desperate for your attention.
"Hello Herbert," Johnny grinned from your shoulder, refusing to let you go as you attempted to wriggle from him, though it's all in good fun. "Scared us there."
"Wait, hush," you ordered, recognizing the urgency in the robot's tone. "Reed wants to see us? There's an emergency?!"
H.E.R.B.I.E. nodded his mechanical head, whirring away as he raced to the lab where you were sure the rest of the family was waiting.
"Damn thing must be broken," Johnny gritted his teeth as he slapped at his alert band, letting you go so you could rush after the robot, though he stayed hot on your trail. "My bracelet didn't go off."
A thousand scenarios cross your mind. What if Franklin had gotten sick beyond repair or the space time continuum became strained from your excessive presence in an alternate dimension? Reed never called emergencies unless the worst of the worst was upon you.
You ran the whole way, easily catching H.E.R.B.I.E. with Johnny at your side.
But what lay ahead wasn’t any scary reality you could predict.
It was worse, in fact. So much worse.
When you entered the lab, brushing away as many symptoms of you late night as you could, you were greeted by the three fourths of the Fantastic Four that you had not woken up beside, all huddled together in behind the large projector that Reed often only used for tracking space anomalies and viewing micro-experimentation. Today, however, a recorded segment of what appeared to be the news, with its flashy headlines in bold, was displayed, paused on a story about advancements in Subterranea.
"Good morning," Sue greeted you, smiling oddly and surrounded by an air of amusement. Reed, on the other hand, was tense as her side, his hardware set on full parental mode. He didn’t smile as you walked in, only staring.
“What’s going on?” you hesitantly asked, slow to join them in the center of the room.
Johnny rushed in not a moment later, breathing heavily as he grimaced as the same sight you had walked into.
"Johnny!” Reed greeted, but his tone was expectant rather than friendly. “Good, I wanted you both to come down and watch the news with us. In fact. we’ve rewound it to a particular story of interest.”
“Hopefully you’ll find it as titillating as we did.” Ben chimed in, as tickled as Sue.
Reed pressed a key on the board ahead of him as the video started to play.
“Coming up next, the resurgence of Johnny Storm!” the usual newscaster announced, followed by Johnny’s usual media photo. “The hero was spotted for the first time in weeks last night, though not quite in the position we’d expected him to be in, literally.”
Another picture, a blurry shot in the dark of night, but you were able to make out the top of the 4 that only featured on the Baxter Building and horrifically, a sprout of fire at the top. Where Johnny’s head had been. Where you had been.
Someone had taken evidence of it.
“This picture, taken by a construction worker during his night shift, allegedly shows Johnny’s flames. Others on the scene also reported strange sounds that accompanied the flames, suggesting the hero was not alone.”
Your stomach sank, briefly glancing as the guilty Johnny a few feet from you before you looked back to the screen.
“Maybe we should-”
“Nope,” Reed shot curtly, stopping you before you could try. “Just keep watching.”
“It’s speculated,” the woman continued. “-that the lucky woman is none other than the Baxter Building’s guest from another world who’s been staying with the Fantastic Four for many months now. In whose bed? I guess we all know now. While there’s no footage that confirms those allegations, another shot of the incident from just last night shows the outline of a woman with Johnny, one that many fans have theorized is the woman in question. We’ll be coming back to this story later at noon while we wait for more word to come in so stayed tuned and we-”
You felt mortified as the footage cut off, the recorded tape ending and the peering eyes of the three returning to a very suspicious you and Johnny.
“Care to explain?” Reed asked, his stare so intense that you felt frozen in his gaze.
"I don't know anything about that." you lied, eyes wide and anxious as all get out.
"That's so funny,” Sue added, not as stern as Reed, but just as intimidating. She pointed back to the projector. “-because I swear that girl on top of my brother looked just like you."
"How do we know that's me?" Johnny asked, met by blank stares. Even you turned to him with a look of incredulous confusion. "Yeah, alright…"
“How long has this been going on for?” Reed’s anger brewing in his harsh tone.
“So we can totally explain.” you started, backing up in the direction of the exit.
“You better.” Ben added.
“But first I-uh, I think, oh, do you hear that?! I think there’s a dog crying!”
“I hear it too!” Johnny agreed.
“We gotta go help it and I’m sure it’s going to take hours sooo...” you grabbed Johnny’s hand, pulling him to the exit before you could be interrogated any longer.
“Get back here!” Reed ordered, but you only sent him a guilty smile.
“See you later, bye!”
You and Johnny were gone before any of them could stop you, sprinting for his room where you could plan your escape.
Reed wanted to chase after you, but Sue held him back with a gentle force, preventing him from stretching out an arm to grab you or Johnny. She was just as shocked as he was, but much more accepting. She was your age once, just as excited running around with her Reed and if she was completely honest, she fully supported your insurrection if it meant commitment and happiness for her beloved baby brother.
"Let her go," she placed a light hand on his shoulder. "We'll track them down later."
“Fine,” Reed relented. “But I expect all the answers then!”
Ben chuckled, a rocky hand reaching up to scratch the pebbled stubble on his chin.
“I guess that explains why he stopped letting me share the shower with him.” he pursed his lips, putting the pieces together.
synopsis: in which johnny storm loves women and you love men (at least the decent ones) and what happens next is only natural … right?
warnings: smut 18+, like A LOT of smut, like a sickening amount, but it's porn with a plot, r is referred to as a female and has female anatomy, r has telekinesis, r is from the mcu, friends with benefits, forbidden relationship, oral sex (f & m) receiving, fingering, hand job, shower sex, public-ish sex, slight exhibitionism, johnny is a warning, some angst, ends fluffy tho
word count: 13.8k
masterlist
a/n: obviously inspired by kisses of fire by abba! johnny is very abba coded to me, idk why. requests are still coming, I just had to hatch this little brain child out of nowhere. it's very long, and i'm not 100% happy with it, but I will go insane if I don't post! enjoy!!
Tripping on a coat hangar was not on your list of obstacles as you snuck through the residential floor hallways of the Baxter Building, relying on the shadows of the night for coverage. You'd become very familiar with the layout considering it had been your home for only a few months now, only getting lost when you had the misfortune of running errands on the lower floors.
You cupped your mouth as a wince tried to worm its way out, eyes wide when the object you had collided with proceeded to tumble to the ground, sending a loud series of clatters into the surrounding atmosphere.
So much for being sneaky.
Your heart raced in your throat when a door opened in the hallway just ahead, a figure emerging from the dim, lamp-lit room inside: the nursery. In your anxious state, you ran through excuses to feed to Reed or Sue about why you were so far from your own bed in the middle of the night. Anything that would distract them from the truth; that in fact you were venturing to sleep somewhere warmer…
Lucky for you, it was H.E.R.B.I.E.'s turn with Franklin.
He made a sequence of beeps in your direction, a unique language that would've baffled you a year ago, but now, you were quite adept at interpreting all he was trying to relay. His tone was chiding as he rolled towards you.
"Quiet, Herbs." you whispered, a desperate attempt at preventing the robot from waking up anyone you hadn't already.
He beeped again, this time at a volume much quieter than his usual resonance. He informed you that you had been very close to waking up poor Franklin who had been more fussy than usual. His teething was making him uncomfortable and difficult to put down.
"I'm sorry," you uttered, stepping closer to pat his head, a common and welcomed gesture from you. "I didn't mean to. I don't know who the hell put this here."
H.E.R.B.I.E. beeped again as you motioned to the still toppled coat hangar.
"What do you mean this has always been here? I've literally never seen this before." you said, as H.E.R.B.I.E. helped you put it right again.
He beeped again, taunting you as he had once again caught you where you shouldn't be long after the sun had made its final appearance. Only unlike the rest of the family, you couldn't hide your true intentions from H.E.R.B.I.E. as he knew of everything that took place in his home.
You were lucky he was willing to keep your secret. He may have been the most technologically advanced being on the planet, but he was a sucker for drama.
"I don't think I have to answer that," you whispered back. Partially because you weren't sure you could get the answer out. The thought itself already left you feeling flush.
Another light flickered on, this time in the room opposite of the nursery as the sound of hardwood meeting harder feet sent alarm bells ringing in your mind.
"Shit," you cursed, ducking behind the door before it could open. You had only barely made it into the dark as Ben opened the door to his room and scanned the hallway through a squint, stopping when he came upon the robot you had left behind.
"H.E.R.B.I.E? What are you doing?" he asked, voice rough from sleep. "And where did you get that coat hanger from?"
You gave the robot a look, detectable by his night vision, as if you told him so.
He beeped a ‘your welcome’, though truly he didn't mind taking the fall for you.
"Uh oh," Ben sighed. "You're malfunctioning again. That won't be fun to tell Reed in the morning-"
You didn't catch the rest of their conversation as you jumped for the last door at the very edge of the hallway, bracing gentle fingers against the smooth metal handle and slipping inside without any more ruckus. You closed it just as carefully, leaning against the door as you let out a sigh of relief. Another night of no detection.
"Hey beautiful," you heard, forcing your head up towards the flirt you had endured so much to see. And fuck, he was a sight indeed.
Johnny Storm.
His voice sent shock waves of excitement rolling down your spine, especially when he called you things like that, things that shouldn't have made you want him in the way you did. Things he had probably said to a hundred girls before you.
But when he gazed at you with those wide blue eyes, with nothing short of the purest desire, you couldn't bring yourself to care if he had been with a thousand girls before you. Likely during you too. None of them had ever made it to his bedroom nor had the privilege of seeking him out in the middle of the night.
He was standing against the far side of his bay window, taking in your pajama clad form in a room nearly void of light save for the white shine from the moon. It was full tonight, brushing the tops of the surrounding skyscrapers that formed the city's horizon. The rest was a dull yellow, emitted from Johnny's right hand as he outstretched it to form the soft flames. Just enough to highlight the details of your face.
"Johnny." you greeted.
A view like that, one only the tallest pillars of society could afford, and all he wanted to look at was you.
"All that racket out there, just for me?"
"Don't be so cocky," you rolled your eyes, though you failed to suppress the grin that snuck up on you. He wasn't wrong, you couldn't think of any of your past flings that you would willingly risk so much for. "That was obviously H.E.R.B.I.E."
"Uh huh," Johnny quirked a brow, pushing off of his place on the wall. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."
Usually your meetings weren't quite so impromptu or were at least proceeded by some semblance of a plan. You'd never sought him out all on your own accord, but there was something special about the night. You had been restless in your own room and you felt like caving to selfish desires.
"Well-" you began, straightening as he crossed the room, slowly, tauntingly, taking each step in a slow stride. "We both have full schedules tomorrow, with lab work and the media. And honestly this weekend's pretty busy for me too so…" you drawled, your intentions implied from many weeks of pleasurable history.
That's when he reached you, his flameless hand tucking away several loose hairs as his fingers moved to the bottom of your chin, nudging your jaw up higher. He held his fire a safe distance from your figure, but despite his efforts, his touch still felt inordinately warm. It always did.
"Is that all?"
He was smirking, annoyingly attractive as he had been the day you started your unconventional embarkment together. His expression was only complimented by the angles of his face, all sharp and pointed.
"And I figured you’d be awake." you added.
"I was doing a little task," he admitted, omitting the reason. "-but I wouldn't mind starting something else."
He tipped your head up higher, soft lips parting at the skin below your jaw as he pressed a kiss to your neck. Warmth bloomed in the pit of your stomach, a kind not born from the sting of Johnny's flames, but just as hot and uncomfortable, longing for more.
"Next time," you breathed, reaching a hand around to feel the taut muscles of his back through his tight white shirt. "You're coming to my room."
You braced your other hand against his head, pulling him closer, deeper though he remained impossibly slow. Johnny liked to take his time with you, feeling you writhe with desire until it was unbearable. Then, watching you fall apart was even more satisfying. You were sure the routine was to boost his already overflowing quantity of self-worth, but you didn't mind as long as he was making you feel this good. There was a valid reason behind its large capacity.
"Yes, ma'am." he mumbled against your skin.
Your eyes fluttered shut as he worked his way down, pressing gentle kiss after gentle kiss down the column of your throat as if any ounce of intensity would break the delicate skin. When they opened, they wandered to his vinyl nook, taking notice of the influx of torn envelopes, all various sizes and colors. Letters were strewn messily atop of them, most written by hand and accompanied by big blue hearts and posters with a familiar flaming face.
"Oh my god," you laughed, Johnny breaking away from your neck to see what was causing you to react with such glee. "Were you reading your fan mail?!"
You were grinning as you left his side to investigate, turning over the unorderly stack to find a concerningly large pile of unopened letters, each addressed to him from various female names with attached New York addresses and even a few from out of state.
"You were!"
"It would be rude not to," Johnny argued, never one to feel embarrassed. You can't recall a single time you'd seen him look ashamed. "I'd hate for all that effort to be wasted by just throwing them away."
"Oh, don't act so noble," you grinned. "You're such an egoist."
Unbothered, he shook his head at your teasing and moved to where you were standing, picking through all he's already read in his big blue chair. He lifted the needle off of the record you didn't even notice was playing. He was too distracting.
"Whoa, some of these are bad." you cringed, looking back to Johnny as you scanned one of the letters he had already opened. "'I've fireproofed my sheets when you're ready to heat?' That's not even grammatically correct."
"Someone sounds jealous." retorted Johnny, sneaking behind you to slip his flameless hand around your waist, flames licking the page you're holding enough to char the top corners. He watched a small portion of delicate paper burn and wilt from the vantage point of your shoulder.
"I'm just observing," you tried, but again, he wasn't exactly wrong. The knowledge that Johnny had a past of spending long nights with a few of his fans induced a bit of envy. Not that you should care, you weren't his girlfriend and you were fine not holding any sort of claim over him. Though, you did prefer staying in the dark when others got to feel what you enjoyed many nights. "You know I don't get sent things like this and I definitely don't have my own fan club-"
Johnny tore the letter out of your grasp with his unignited hand, tossing it behind him as he spun you into his bed, extinguishing his flames with a simple flick as he lowered himself to kiss you roughly. Warm hands met your cheek and stomach as he pressed you into the mattress. Your insides were whirling, a feeling you couldn't get enough of with him. You chased it.
"Fuck," you moaned into his mouth as Johnny's hands, ever prying, moved to duck into the waist band of your pajama pants, slipping over to brush exactly where you were craving him. You bucked up into him, meeting his skilled fingers as they traced rough outlines over you, stimulating the most sensitive. "Johnny…"
"Baby…" he smiled.
He pressed another searing kiss to your neck though this one was much more assertive, followed by another to your collar bone and then one at your abdomen, just over the thin material of your pajama shirt, moving downward almost too quickly for you to process.
"Let's give them something to really be jealous of," he smirked, lifting up your shirt to plant a kiss to the skin just below your belly button as one of his hands left your center to help you kick off your pants, your underwear quick to follow in a discarded mess of fabric on the floor, close to the pile of envelopes that were equally neglected. "Hmm?"
You nodded, eager to receive exactly what had brought you. You looked down to watch as his hands took hold of your thighs, moving your legs to rest comfortably over his shoulders as his grip tightened, just bordering on painful. His eyes stared into yours as he dipped down, soaking up your reaction as his tongue slid along your slick in the rhythm he knew sent you over the edge, flicking out of pattern every so often to retain the pleasure in unpredictability. You ground into him, back arching and head pressing back into his mattress as you reached out for his sheets, gripping them so tight, they'd have to be ironed to get the wrinkles out in the morning.
"Fuck, that feels so good," you mewled.
You felt Johnny chuckle against you, but he didn't slow. Just persisted long into the night until the two of you were spent enough to sleep.
When you awoke, naked and sweaty, but warmer than you could achieve in your own bed with your blankets, it took everything in you to leave the comfort behind. You knew it was the right course of action, carefully peeling Johnny's arm off of your waist as he slept soundly beside you and picking up your clothes as daybreak started to shine into his window. You had just gotten your head through your shirt when you noticed it, an envelope placed on one of Johnny's record stacks, separated from the others that hadn't moved from their piles. You hadn't noticed it before. Johnny must've thought it special.
Curiosity got the best of you as you picked the small blue envelope, pulling out a white piece of printer paper that had been folded into fourths to fit. You unfolded it carefully, silent enough so as to not wake the snoozing man just feet away.
"Dear Human Torch," it read in untidy blue writing.
"Thank you for saving my kitten in Centennial Park. I was very scared until you helped him. I named him Storm after you. You're my favorite superhero. I think you're very brave. My dad helped me write this, but I drew the picture all by myself! I hope you like it.
"Love, Madeline, Age 6."
Below was a crayon masterpiece worthy of any refrigerator, one that depicted Johnny in all his flaming glory handing a grey cat to a waiting girl below, picturesque and smiling as were most things from the mind of a child. Your heart was bursting, tearing at the seams.
You folded it back up and replaced it, slipping out before Johnny could catch you swelling with so much feeling.
God, you hated seeing things like this. Small parts of Johnny that reminded you of why he was so deserving of his title. He may have paraded around like the hottest thing since flying cars, but he was also brave and kind, thoughtful and willing to help where help was needed regardless of how big (or miniscule) the task. He was a hero, through and through.
It made you fall for him, even more than you already had, and that was a very dangerous position to be in.
The two of you were not supposed to be together. End of conversation.
It wasn’t just Johnny that you were banned from touching. Truthfully, you weren't supposed to be with anyone from Earth 828, but of all the eligible bachelors, Johnny was by far the worst choice for a silly little lust affair.
You'd been sent to Earth only a few months prior, chosen by your comrade, Doctor Strange, and occasional mentor, Bruce Banner, when a multiversal threat appeared and you were the best pick to explore it. Not only did you have the powers to handle most threats in the cosmos as a wielder of telekinetics as well as reality bending when you could summon the strength, but you were also extremely intelligent, a protege of Tony Stark himself before the man's honorable sacrifice.
It took weeks to get the mission together, theory after theory followed by test after test until it was discovered that rather than an equation, your own powers served as the catalyst that would allow anyone from your Earth to travel through parallel realities. Naturally, you were the best candidate to be sent out after that. But even with all the studies, all the work, and all the geniuses that powered the expedition, the rush to send you into the unknown left a crucial variable unaccounted for: how to get back.
Stuck in a world that wasn't yours, you tried everything you could to find this world's equivalent of the Avenger's Tower, ending up at the Baxter Building instead as they shared exact coordinates. In fact there was no Avenger’s Tower as Earth 828 had no Avengers at all. Not even Tony Stark existed here, a drastic difference from the New York you hailed from. But much like everything else that differed from your world, the city you were stuck in housed a worthy equivalent.
The Fantastic Four were widely celebrated in their own corner of the multiverse, quick to take you in when you strolled into the Baxter Building wearing strange clothes and claiming to be from an alternate dimension. They dealt with so much weird on the daily, just having defeated the great Galactus, you had no trouble convincing them that your situation was real and not born from an episode of psychosis.
Now, after months of living amongst the four you were glad to embrace their technicolor world that was decades behind your own, but somehow incredibly more advanced technologically. You found something much more fulfilling than the mission of saving an alternate dimension from a world consuming villain. You found a family.
At least for the moment.
Reed continued to search for a solution on how to get you back to your own planet, the task immediately replacing every other item on his priority list for your own sake as well as his. Backed by unbreakable determination and a sprinkle of competitiveness, he aimed to unpuzzle your problem without ‘cheating’ by using your powers. Cross-universal travel, he named it, his obsession only worsening when you had accidentally disclosed your own qualifications to be solving such a problem in a casual conversation. He took you on immediately, offering you the fine position of temporary lab assistant and lead consultant on all queries that spanned the multiverse.
It was exhausting at times, but you were happy to have something to do. And as the weeks turned into months with no viable answers, you were promoted to Reed Richard’s official lab hand.
Sue, you learned, was not only extremely powerful and a wonderful mother, but most importantly the balancing force in your work relationship with her husband.
Reed often forgot that he himself was a living breathing person who needed rest and recuperation from research. With you, he needed constant reminders. It wasn’t out of cruelty, but pure unbridled excitement for the new genre of physics you were helping him unlock. Sue was vital in making sure you had enough energy to keep helping him.
For every late night Reed kept you in the lab, Sue made sure you were given a full day off, even gifting you free reservations to Sips and Suds, her favorite local spa that doubled as a soda joint though you had yet to take her up on her offer. She even prepared a special room for you to live in, setting your occupancy limit at whenever you grew too sick of the family to stay in the Baxter Building, but you never did.
With Ben and H.E.R.B.I.E. thrown into the mix, you were set up with just about the nicest family ever. They weren't perfect, even their 60s utopia had its sufferings (though they didn’t compare to the horrors from your world). The four all had their flaws and they fought, often, like any normal family. But even in the tensest of situations, they always managed to forgive each other and move on, for the sake of the world and the love outlasted any quarrels.
You were grateful they were willingly to share with you, offering more than the mere slice you were expecting, but the full deal. The longer you stayed, the closer you became to the four. Now, you were as good as family too.
There was only one issue to the paradise you had stumbled into from a world far away and he slept across the residential floor from you, the man who had caused you so much internal confliction.
But he was too enticing to stay away from.
You liked Johnny from the moment he introduced himself to you, sauntering up to you back when you were still a stranger. You knew his type, the kind who didn't view women as long term commitments, but as time went on he proved to be a good companion. Undoubtedly the biggest and blondest golden retriever personality you had ever met besides Spider-Man, whoever he was behind his mask. You couldn’t remember his name, but it didn't matter in a world he wasn’t in.
Johnny started out as exclusively your friend. A good friend even, the kind that patrolled the city together in the late afternoon and stayed up late trading stories, his mainly informative so you could better understand your new reality while yours answered his burning prompts, detailed enough for him to become immersed in your history. He could be self centered, yes, and occasionally crude, but you found his company quite enjoyable.
Johnny didn't just see you as a multiversal conquest or a vessel for studying reality crossing like Reed did. Sure, he found you fascinating, but he never failed to acknowledge the human being that lived underneath, assuring you that it was your character he was interested in, even more than where you were sent from. You used to think it was one of the purest friendships you'd ever forged, including those you’d left back home.
Then you slept with him. And everything you once knew, the reality you had finally grown used to, was altered.
The exact arrangements had been made during one of your late night escapades after putting away another antagonist of the week and sharing a bowl of H.E.R.B.I.E.'s homemade goulash. You had rendered Johnny dumbfounded, admitting that despite the flexible hours of the clubs back home, you had never spent a night out on the town. Though you protested, he wouldn’t let you crawl back to your room until he could take you out dancing, his decade’s equivalent. He helped you get ready, showing you one of the best nights of your life and looking at you differently as you twirled in his hold.
It was only a suggestion, something that would occur exactly once for experimental purposes against the brick wall of a dark alleyway where Johnny's flaming hair was the only light in sight, testing the bounds of how far two people could go from different worlds. Afterwards, you and Johnny went your separate ways, under the verbal agreement that it was nothing more than harmless fun. You could go on as the close friends you had become.
And you did. But the late nights didn't stop.
One night turned into two. Then ten. Then when the nights were full, you found time in the middle of the day until now you and Johnny hooked up so often that you couldn't keep track of all the times you'd been with him. He was an indulgence that had morphed into routine.
He was good at checking in on you at first, making sure you both felt the same about the habits you had developed. Close friends with an appetite to be casual interdimensional fuck buddies. And when he wasn’t in you, he was the person you trusted the most.
You agreed to everything for the first few months, blind to the tensions stirring until they were too strong to ignore. Johnny stopped checking, fun becoming the assumption for all your meetings just as you started to suffer from the feelings you were never supposed to have.
It didn't help that Johnny was extremely attractive, always flirting and mumbling sweet nothings that didn't mean nearly as much to him as they did to you. And he was so good in bed, well practiced and always wanting to please you. It was a factor in his own enjoyment as Johnny couldn’t have a good time unless he was showing you one.
As if being head over heels for your only real friend and one of the most flirty superheroes in the cosmos wasn't bad enough, you were still banned from seeing each other by very valid external forces.
Physical intimacy as an outer world species was extremely ill advised.
It was one of the first questions Reed asked you when you started joining him in the lab. He didn't see it as a personal question, solely focused on the science and the complications of your existence in his world. He wanted to limit any negative variables, anything that could result in the injury of yourself or another being. There was no telling the consequences of seeking such a close relationship with someone made of other worldly matter.
It hadn't been a lie when you answered, promising that you weren't in the market for any kind of "sexual exploration" as Reed had called it. Even then you'd been attracted to Johnny, but you didn't see yourself ending up where you were now, wrapped around his heated finger. As much as you wanted something more, you were sure he didn't.
He wasn't exactly renowned for his fidelity.
That was the only problem, as much as you hated to admit it, it stung to sort through old headlines with Johnny's name, his arm around the waist of another. You'd been curious one night alone in the lab, tortured by all of the models and perfect beauties he had claimed before you.
Still having a piece of him was better than not having him at all. And what you had was fun as it was. You didn't have to be subjected to his image with another when he was with you, sneaking around, making out on the kitchen counter, and covering your mouth when you were too loud in the dead of night. And now after months of adapting to his world, you had him all the time.
You couldn't give him up.
Even during your busiest weeks, you and Johnny found time that you really didn’t have. Getting caught became more probable, riskier, but you couldn't stop and neither could he. His appearances became an explosion of spontaneity, going off frequently.
You were putting away clothes in your room for media day, storing each immaculate outfit Sue over the months had helped pick out for you so that you could dress with the times when you heard a knock on your door.
Three short rasps. His secret code. The same one he used every time, reserved just for you.
"Come in!" you shouted, tucking away the last of your pants and taking a seat on your bed, greeting Johnny with a smile when he did finally walk in. He stepped fully in, but didn't shut the door, hanging on the handle like it was a tether.
"I'm about to hop in the shower," he informed you, bypassing his usual flirty greeting.
"Okay,” you shrugged, as if you weren’t smart enough to decode his message. “Did you have something you wanted to tell me?"
Johnny shook his head, smirking.
"What I want is for you-” he pointed. “-to join me." He retracted his pointer finger, tapping it gently against his bottom lip.
"We have to be ready for two large press conferences in an hour." you informed him, though he was already well aware of your absence of time.
"I know, but Reed and Sue are out with Franklin and Ben is still asleep, I checked.”
He stepped forward, pulling you up from your bed and cradling your face in his hand.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips, pressing a begging kiss that you grinned into. “I haven't seen you in so long…"
Your head pulled from his hold as you chuckled, shaking your head.
"We fucked two days ago," you reminded him. "Not including what happened yesterday during my lab break."
"I remember," Johnny smirked.
He wasn’t used to you relenting. Neither were you as saying yes had become a pleasant reflex. Something was changing, brewing inside your lively heart that was getting tired of no confirmed reciprocation. There were little signs, his arm around your waist when you fell asleep in his bed, but it worsened the ache knowing he didn’t see his actions how you did.
"So is that a no?" he asked, his tone not hopeful, but confident that it wasn’t.
Of course it wasn't.
You'd never turned him down before, even when the only options for privacy were a storage closet on the set of The Ted Gilbert Show. You'd been extra smiley during that interview, attempting to explain the not-so-simple basics of interdimensional travel to the whole world with much more enthusiasm than it required.
Now, you were sure that same bubbly girl would make a reappearance as Johnny pressed you into the tile wall, mouth hot against your neck, hand on your hip and knee rubbing you in between your thighs under the stream of lukewarm water, the temperature he set the shower only when you accompanied him. You had both hands wrapped around his head, fingers grasping at the short blonde strands as he bent one of your legs to fit around him, the thigh slotted between yours rubbing firmer against your dripping center.
No more than fifteen minutes had passed since you hopped in with him and you’d already come once on his fingers. Now, he was curious to test how quickly he could get you to finish without them. Spoiler, he was very close.
Your eyes wandered down the expanse of his body, slick from the stream of water. He looked larger than life with clothes on, tight pants and shirts that clung to his biceps and exaggerated his sharp edges. Without them? He was godly. Shit, you could probably come from just staring at him.
You bit your lip as you sank into the feeling of his hard body slotted against yours, humming through a groan at the thought of his perfect abs and perfect waist.
You managed a hand down his wet chest, following the stream of water as you reached below his waist. He felt rigid in your hand as you tugged, forcing a shudder through his body.
"Oh my god," he cursed, lips leaving the red marks he had made on your neck as his head rolled back. You squeezed the base, palming the length before sinking back down again. "Fuck! I love when you do that."
"This?" you asked, repeating the motion and revealing in the way he groaned at your touch, bucking into your hand as his thigh rubbed against you again.
"Fuck, yes! You're so fucking good when you surprise me." he sighed, lips chasing yours again before another tug ripped another perfect moan out of him.
Suddenly, you heard the squeal of the bathroom door pulling open as someone unexpected entered.
You paused, lowering your leg to stand on both shaken feet on the ceramic floor of the shower as you looked for the silhouette of the intruder.
"I thought you said Sue and Reed were gone?!" you whispered, grateful for the loud rush of water that muffled your voice from your uninvited guest.
"They are,” Johnny confirmed. “This isn't another surprise is it?"
You shook your head, not even slightly entertained by the joke. As if you would ever share your precious moments with him.
"Johnny?" a voice asked.
You recognized it instantly after living with the family for so long, eyes widening and heart racing.
Ben had woken up.
"Shit!" Johnny whispered, pulling from you to hide your naked figure behind his own.
While his cover was decent, you ducked to prevent any chance of being spotted, hiding behind the porcelain lips of the tub that were lengthy enough to afford you certainty. As long as no one opened the curtain that concealed you, no one would spot your crouched position.
"Johnny? Who are you talking to?" Ben asked.
"Myself," Johnny replied promptly.
"Practicing for television again? I haven't heard you do that since we started these things."
You would've laughed had you not been too afraid of discovery.
"No, its- its something else. What are you doing?"
Ben was silent for a moment, answering with the whir of his angle grinder that changed pitch as he brought it to his rocky face, wearing down the stones that had elongated overnight.
"Shaving. We have to be ready in thirty minutes."
Reaching up a hand, you waved at Johnny, motioning for him to kick Ben out. Even if you didn't get to finish your morning, you refused to get caught this way, naked and vulnerable.
"Could you do that when I'm out?" Johnny asked, following your request. “Or like, literally anywhere else?”
"You’re fine with it normally, I don't see what the big deal is." Ben groaned, sparks flying outside the curtain as he reached the roughest patch on the outskirts of his rocky cheek.
"Alright," Johnny relented until you lightly kicked his shin, shaking your head vehemently and mouthing a reply for him to use. "I mean, no, we should enforce some boundings?" He read your lips. "Oh, I mean, boundaries."
"Are you okay in there?" Ben wondered, the silhouette of his head turning to the shower curtain as you sucked in a breath. "You sound a little enflamed?"
You nodded at Johnny, scared that Ben was close to opening the curtain. You weren’t how comfortable they'd become with each other and you didn’t want to find out.
"Yeah, all good.” Johnny urged. “Can't you finish up later?"
"I-I guess. I'm almost done."
"Okay then." Another kick to his shin, this time harder. "Ow! I mean no. You should finish later."
Much to your relief, you heard the sound of Ben unplugging his grinder as he opened the door.
"Jesus, I guess I'll use Reed's." Ben huffed, but he didn’t stick around any longer.
You rose to your knees as he left, peeking out into the spacious bathroom to confirm he had closed the door behind him.
"That was a close one," Johnny laughed lightly, relief washing over his face as well. "Now, where were we?"
"We aren't doing anything else until you promise me that next time, you'll lock that fucking door." you glared, pulling your head back in as you looked up at him.
Johnny rolled his eyes, but it was a simple order to follow. His smile returned to him as he nodded, a sign of promise.
"Good?"
"Yes, but I have so many questions for you,” you grinned teasingly. “Practice interviews? Sharing the bathroom while you're showering?"
"Flame me all you want later. We don't have time for that right now."
"In that case," you inched closer, keeping your spot on the ground as you reach up for his lower abs, running your nails down the smooth skin and taking the length of him into your hands again. "I have an idea on how to speed this up."
You closed your eyes as you took him into your mouth, sucking hard and rolling your tongue along him in the way you knew helped him the most.
"I like - where you heads at." Johnny hurried out through sudden breaths and pauses, a hand rushing down to take root in your hair while the other intertwined with your own against his stomach, stabilizing you even whilst you did him such a gracious favor.
That hand plagued you for the rest of the day, popping into your mind during every interview and even preventing you from answering a question. A very easy one at that, from a small girl who wanted to know what it was like to move in with Earth's mightiest heroes. Hers at least, you had grown up with very different role models.
The thought of your life now with Johnny reminded you of dressing with him when the shower finally turned off, how he had offered to zip your dress before you could even ask and complimented you with a kiss to your temple when he saw you in it through the mirror.
"You should've made Sue choose something less flattering," Johnny gave a faux-complaint through a smile. "You're taking all the heat from the rest of us."
It was different from his usual flattery, a word you dreaded using when you were with Johnny. Intimate. Special.
You were so out of it by the final interview, Reed let you skip it as even he, a mathematical genius who had a hard time picking up on most emotions, noticed you were off. You played it off as fatigue, but truly you were grateful to get a moment away from Johnny as all your feelings rushed back up to the surface.
He made it worse when he checked in on you, not looking for any kind of fun, but just making sure you were okay. You weren't used to the doting. Johnny was your good friend, but between the late nights and all your various private moments, he hadn't acted like your friend in a while.
It ached knowing you could never be more, but it burned whenever Johnny reminded you how much he cared for you.
You let him in though when he brought his favorite cereal, sharing crunches with you as you played it off as home sickness, sharing with him some niche aspect of your world that you hadn't told him already. You didn't really miss home, as awful as the thought was. You just needed something to distract him with, a deflection so that he wouldn't look too close and know the truth behind your flying signals. Turning him away would've led to the same realization.
You thought it couldn't hurt, venting about how different the media was here, how you missed your favorite film. In turn, Johnny offered to show you one of his own, something that sounded similar, something popular.
That film ended up being a variation of West Side Story and while it was similar to the version from your own world, much of the plot had changed to fit in with the subtle differences in his world's history.
You thought you'd get a break the next day, a chance to reset as Johnny took his turn patrolling the city. With few villain outbreaks since the baby proofing of New York, only one of you was required to go out at a time, if that. You knew what he did when you weren’t around, chatting up the local ladies between acts of heroism. Not that you should care, if anything the thought should've helped you get over him, help you return to when it was casual. You had work to do anyways.
You bussied yourself in Reed's lab, flipping through page after page as a favor to Sue who so badly wanted her husband to take the day off, spending it with his only son. It took a lot of convincing on yours, Sue's and Ben's part, but eventually you were able to wear him down. You swore it wouldn't be an inconvenience, looking over test results and various other mundane, mindless tasks. Though quite honestly, you knew exactly where you wanted to be instead.
Back under a shower stream, with his hands wrapped around you, pressing pure warmth into your back as you melted into his sturdy frame, blissed out and mindless as he pumped into you…
Or in his room, spread before him like a feast, hands in his hair with his mouth on your abdomen, trailing kisses down until...
You sighed, setting your packet down. Numbers bored your wandering mind, forcing it to drift into scenarios you didn't really want to think about. Not when they risked everything you'd built in the short time you were here. Not when they risked ruining your closest friendship. And if it was so casual, something for just fun, why did it vex you so? You didn't think a single day had passed in the last few months where all you thought about wasn't seeing Johnny again, completely and utterly obsessed.
But you just couldn't stop.
You're wrapping up the last mindless tasks you can, skipping over any work that involved calculations or required a skill you might easily mess up in your pining haze. Just tidying and stacking, easy, simple. You were shocked when a voice rang from behind you, smooth and piercing as heat filled the air.
“Have you always looked that good in a lab coat?”
You jerked up, genuinely surprised. You couldn’t imagine what brought Johnny here during his shift, but it's as if your thoughts were an outspoken order as he leaned in close, arms wrapping around you as he planted a kiss to your jawline.
“Johnny? What happened to saving damsels in distress today?”
“What do you think I'm doing now?" he grinned, pressing another kiss into your neck, much too close to your pulse point. He was warm, fresh off of flying in flames around the city. At least you assumed so, but he was back long enough to trade out of his typical hero wear for his typical tight number and the red jacket you once told him you liked. Seeing him in it now reminded you of why and you wondered if he dawned it on purpose. A tactic to get what he was really after. "You can't honestly be happy doing Reed's bidding.”
"I'm just helping out with this study.” you gathered the papers in your reach to finish another stack. “I owe him after all he's done for me and all he's doing to help me."
"Is it so wrong that I also want to help you?" he chuckled, spinning you around in your chair so you could meet his gaze. "In a special way -a relaxing way. We have an appointment."
His lips slipped down the column of your neck, slowly as your shoulders gave an involuntary roll upwards and your stomach started to fold in on itself. You didn’t feel as attractive as he was making you out to be, basically clad in a pajama set. Indeed this ‘appointment’ was entirely unscheduled.
"I don't remember planning this." you argued, giving in to his touch. He may have been the source of your unhappiness, but he was very good at making it go away.
"We totally did," he lied, head lifting as he pulled you from your chair. "But give me fifteen minutes and I promise I'll earn your forgiveness."
You nearly caved, standing so that your feet were falling backwards towards your work table as Johnny’s teeth met your skin. You raised an unsteady hand, urging your organized stacks to float over to Reed’s desk with your powers, ensuring your work would not be wasted. The rest you left alone, unbothered by the prospect of them being disturbed by sudden movements. You weren’t motivated to fix them now as your lower back met the edge of the desk.
Johnny pulled at your lab coat, smiling as the white fabric dropped from your shoulder. His hand followed, gliding down your skin and beneath the white sleeve as he willed it to lower even more, his touch leaving goosebumps in its fiery wake.
He leaned into you, helping you onto the desk as his hand slid up one of the legs of your ruffled pajama shorts, feeling up the curve of your thigh before toying with the lacy hem of your panties.
“Reed could be back any minute.” you warned, a piece of you still strangely relenting. You wanted this, but the pain of the past sting panged in your chest. Because it was something different for him, something without all the complications of romance.
“He won’t,” Johnny promised, sealing his words with a kiss to your mouth as moved a hand to smooth back strands of your loose hair. “If he’s with my sister, she’s going to keep him busy for a while. Last time I was with them, they couldn’t agree on a color for Franklin’s cradle."
You stared down at his hot mouth, practically drooling now. You couldn’t lie, you've pictured him taking you here before, despite the ethical complications of fucking in his brother-in-law's lab. But as long as Reed didn’t know and Johnny was so willing, you couldn’t come up with a reason to stop.
“Well, in that case…” you smiled, caving completely as you reached out to pass a hand over the smooth surface of his chest, hands slipping under the jacket you were so fond of.
Johnny didn't waist a single second, standing in between your legs as he peppered your neck with rough kisses your neck, leaving red marks that somewhat resemble the burns his powers leave. The bruises from your last encounter had yet to heal and here he was, adding new pieces as if your neck was an art installation.
When he hit the neckline of your pajamas, he slipped a hand under the fabric, his other still tracing small patterns on the softest part of your inner thigh. You adjust so he can move it over the sports bra you picked for lounging in the lab, one of the only clothes you had from your own Earth. He dragged the top of it down until one of your breasts popped out, the other quick to follow.
Johnny lifted his head, making a deep sound from the back of his throat as he eyes you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you, a dangerous desire brewing in his stare.
"So fucking perfect," he groaned, leaning down to take one of you succulent nipples into his hot mouth, tongue smoothing over the bump in such a way that makes the backs of your ankles jerk against the edge of the table. It's sudden, unpredictable, his movements evoking such a reaction from you.
He palmed your other breast in his free hand, moving down to stroke your side until his grip met your hips and up again. His other hand has migrated up, pulling at the band of your shorts until he had enough space to fit a hot hand against your sensitive skin, palming and fingering your already dampened folds.
Your mouth fell open as your head jerked back, hands sneaking under the jacket as you traced the outline of his taunt back muscles through his tight cotton shirt. You were clawing at him, scraping the fabric each time he tugged your nipple in between his teeth.
It's not long before he deemed you ready, helping you slip off your bottoms as he pulled the end of his belt out of its buckle.
Johnny pressed the two fingers that had been working you up to your mouth, dragging your bottom lip down until the plush surface was too far, grinning as it snapped back into place. You opened wide for him, tasting remnants of yourself on the pads of his slick fingers and wrapped your lips around them, licking them clean.
You were still tight when Johnny had finally managed to shimmy off his own pants, stretching your walls as he entered you, gasping as you grasped for the red fabric of his jacket to keep him close.
"Oh fuck," you moaned, mouth slacked open as he filled you up to your entirety, so much so that your feel him in the pit of your stomach.
He grinned at you, lips parted in satisfaction as he watched you fall apart, pulling out and back in again, purposefully slow so you feel every inch in its intended intensity as he gives and takes at will.
“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all day.” he confessed.
There it is again.
The pang in your chest, the shortness of breath, the swirl of panic. He’s done it again and at exactly the wrong time.
It burned inside you, the feelings perhaps that you refuse to acknowledge, but inflamed by something more. The possibility of reciprocation. The slight chance that Johnny, a man no one thought could be tied down by his match.
And that match was you.
He had never crossed the bounds like this. He was a good lover, probably your favorite out of all the guys you had back home, but he’s never gone as far as to let you know that he thinks about you outside the world you sneak away to and leave behind when you were too weary to continue. Moments that you stole and pretended to forget about.
He didn’t seem as deep in pondering as you were, rolling into you as his hot breath met your neck with a moan. But he didn’t stop, You were a dessert he couldn’t get enough of.
It was not as pleasant as you had hoped, Johnny's words of adoration. You thought you would be overjoyed, knowing that they were more than his typical sweet nothings, but the fear that it was fleeting, that it was still mere flattery to help you get to the climax is overpowering, squashing any pleased stirrings.
You made a mess when you finished, groaning as Johnny pulled out leaving you empty and hurting because as much as you wanted to believe it, you were sure Johnny's view of you hadn't changed. It couldn’t, he wouldn't be Johnny without his charm.
Despite your best interests, you denied him when he offered to help you clean up, handing you your discarded panties as he fastened his pants back up. Usually he would've helped you into them, but he could sense something was off. You weren’t as jubilant as you had been when he treated you so well in the past.
“You sure?” he checked again, just to be sure your answer hadn’t changed. “Not even a quick rinse? I’ll even lock the door this time.” he shot you that sly smile, the one that had drawn you to him since your arrival.
“Not this time. I really have to finish this.” you refused, settling back down in your chair and summoning the papers that had cascaded to the floor with a wave of your hand. No matter how great, you ignored your discomfort that truly would be solved by a warm shower stream and continued sorting through the files. You really didn’t have to, you knew Reed wouldn't be upset if you couldn’t finish in time, but you couldn’t spend another moment with Johnny, especially not doing an activity that was performed by real couples, something you were not.
“Alright,” Johnny nodded, hesitating to ask if you were okay so much so that you wondered if you were fabricating the genuine care in his voice. He decided against it, placing his hands on your shoulders instead and pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
Then he left. One last glance your way, one you didn’t notice, and then total silence.
And it’s by yourself that you let the facade crumble, wiping fresh tears from your eyes so they don’t smudge the ink on Reed’s precious pages.
You never knew the best course of action to handle your situation, but now, alone and devastated by his sweetness, you were motivated to end it. That was the only way to cease the pain. Because Johnny Storm would never belong to anyone.
And he could never belong to you.
Oh how you wished you could return to when it was casual, letting him clean you up as he always did after hookups (or so you imagined as he couldn’t damage the gentleman image behind the Human Torch) and morphing into your very platonic friend, someone you could never see yourself close with. There was a clear divider, an indication of the Johnny who wanted to jump you and the Johnny who didn't.
Now he was all the same.
The touches and kind whispers and the wanting you every minute of everyday, there was no difference. No alter ego. He was Johnny who wanted you at your best and worst all the time and lived for whatever you were willing to give him.
You were in your room later, watching the news before you had to attend family dinner and pretend you were not surfing a downward spiral, pretending your mind wasn’t spinning in circles like a dog chasing its tail. You chose the most unflatting outfit in your closet, searching through whatever Johnny hadn't complimented you in recently which was so hard because now he always did. Hell, he thought you were hot in a hazmat suit. It left you with very few options.
“Next, all the hot goss on New York's favorite flaming hero,” the news broadcaster spoke from your television speaker, earning your attention as photos of Johnny flashed on the screen. “Fans grow worried as days pass without a sighting of Johnny Storm. He was last spotted helping a floor of nursing home residents out of their burning home before stopping the fire at its source. Thanks to him, there was little damage and many of the occupancies remained unscorched by the flames. The last time New York went so long without a glimpse of the Human Torch was during the arrival of our new favorite addition to the Baxter Building-” an image of you joined the collage of his photos. “-who has also not been seen for quite some time. We now turn to his official fan club for the best theories to explain his extended absence."
You felt yourself smile as the camera panned over hundreds of young girls, all contributing to the same care basket that they claimed was for “fire fever” as if Johnny’s gifts gave him unique illnesses. It made you wonder why he hadn’t been out as much, choosing to stay in the house. With you.
Your thoughts still rattled around your speeding brain during dinner as you fork the feast Sue prepared. Well, at least her salad, the rest of the meal was entirely H.E.R.B.I.E.’s doing. It was delicious, but your mind was too full to enjoy it. Johnny was the forefront of your thoughts, however you hadn’t so much as passed a glance in his direction during dinner after your afternoon steaming up the lab.
“Everything go okay with those spreads?” Reed asked.
You choked on a piece of lettuce and Johnny let out a low chuckle beside you, swallowing a smirk through a bite from his own plate. A dangerous heat began swelling in your center as his hand brushed your knee.
Now this was truly unexpected.
Johnny never touched you in front of his family. It was one of the biggest unspoken agreements in your friendship. Whatever happened between you two, whatever endeavors you decided to explore, they were meant to stay private. He was violating everything you ever agreed on.
Your food churned in your stomach, but as you reached down to push him away, you found yourself moving your leg instead, just slightly, allowing him to rest his warm palm on your bare knee. It was like a spell, you were enchanted by the words uttered on the news. It was unlikely, but maybe, just maybe the reason for his hiatus had something to do with you.
Maybe there was a chance after all.
“Good,” you managed to reply after an awkward pause that you prayed no one else paid any mind to. “Well I mean, I didn’t get as much done as I had hoped to, but what’s done is good.”
You didn’t have the words for this conversation. Not when Johnny's hand was running up and down your leg and you couldn’t be sure if it was suggestive or something more. Instead you were laser focused on keeping a tight ship, making no sudden movements or expressions that would give the jig away to the family you had barely been inducted in.
Unfortunately, not every reaction was avoidable.
“Are you feeling alright?” Sue asked, sharing a look with her husband. You’re not usually one to let your words escape you. And the sweating? You’d never shown up to dinner with nerves, not even the first time when you hardly knew the people around you.
“Uh huh,” you nodded, Johnny’s hand growing achingly closer to where it was supposed to be, where you wanted it to be, selfishly, disgustingly, but it was true. You couldn’t help it.
“Are you sure?” Sue continued to pry. Second nature as a mother to Franklin and practically everyone else in the family. “You haven’t been eating much and you’re acting ... odd.”
"You look a little warm," Ben comments. You were flushed and for a second you wondered if he knew the truth, his room much too close to Johnny's to stay naive about what went on inside. But you knew as he turned back to his meal, truly none the wiser.
“I do feel a bit hot.” you admitted setting down your fork.
Johnny wasn’t even looking at you when you turned to him, (despite the hidden meaning behind your excuse), his eyes narrowed in on his plate and nothing else, his hand incessant on driving you insane. It was payback for being ignored earlier, deliberately choosing to not back you up.
Cold shoulder to hot thigh.
“Are you catching something?” Sue wondered, raising in her chair as she reached over the table to feel your forehead.
“No!” you shouted before she could get too close, unveiling your secret that was inching upwards still under her nice tablecloth. “I-I’m fine, honestly. I promise.”
“If you insist,” Sue relented, flattening her skirt as she sat back down. She continued eating, but her interrogations were in no way finished. “What about you, Johnny? You’ve been acting differently lately.”
Johnny’s hand went rigid against you as his head shot up, eyes wide with intrigue.
“Have I?” Johnny asked skeptically.
“You haven’t been out in days. And you never miss the chance to make some headlines.”
“I just feel like recovering lately,” Johnny shrugged. “Maybe I'm maturing.”
“That’s likely.” Reed snorted, taking another bite of his own salad.
”I think I want to be excused.” you spoke suddenly, Johnny’s hand falling from you as you stood from your chair. A subtle frown grew on his pink lips as you cast a hand towards the sink, your plate zooming across the kitchen and into the dishwasher.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Ben checked again, always the empath despite his rocky appearance.
You nodded, feigning a smile to make your act more believable. “I promise,” you repeated. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
“Feel better!” Sue wished.
You don’t turn back as you leave the table, shaking your head at H.E.R.B.I.E. as he offered to fetch you anything to make you feel better, even make you something different as if his culinary skills were the source of your unappetizing mood. He was intelligent for a hunk of welded metal, smarter than any robot you had in your world by a landslide. Not just programming, empathy. He understood your message quickly. That it wasn’t personal, but only that no such robotic solution existed to stitch the tear in your heart.
You figured you needed to sleep it off, slip into something comfy and drown yourself in your books so as to take up every crease of your brain. You couldn’t obsess if you couldn’t think. About Johnny’s perfect body and his soft lips and the way he warmed under your touch whenever you…no! You had to stop.
But even as you tried to avoid him, his special knock sounds from your door. Three short rasps. Same as always.
It was late, several hours since the embarrassment that was dinner. You doubted anyone else was still up, besides poor Franklin, who slept only when sleep had the decency to come to him. Prime time for your usual activities.
You supposed you understood why he was here and you decided for the first time in history that it was time to extinguish the flames. Let him down easy, and get back to sulking so that your feelings could evade you in his absence. Recover from the spell he had cast on you. Whenever you could reconvince yourself that he didn’t want you.
It was with great hesitation, but you opened the door, positioning yourself at the crack to prevent him from slipping inside.
But Johnny’s concerned instead of in need, his expression contorted into a worried look you rarely saw.
“You okay?” Johnny asked, tone different from when was seeking fun in the past. You knew he wasn’t heartless, he was the people’s hero, but honestly you hadn't been expecting him to show up like this. Worried exclusively for your well being.
“Yep.” you answered curtly.
But Johnny didn’t buy it.
“Come on. You can feed that to Reed and Sue, but this is me! I’m your friend-”
“And yet, that seems to be exactly the problem.” you managed through a shaky laugh, though in all honesty, your dilemma wasn’t the slightest bit humorous.
You turned back inside, giving up on keeping Johnny out. Such a conversation, if you were really going to do this, required a confidential space.
“Problem?” Johnny repeated. “What problem? We work so well together!”
“Yes, Johnny, I know we do.”
“Then what’s the matter? You know you can be honest.” Johnny stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him as he followed you with caution.
You flopped onto your bed, pushing the book you were mindlessly flipping through to the crack between your mattress and the wall where Johnny couldn’t see it; A romance with a coincidentally blonde love interest.
“Honest? You want me to be honest?" you asked, as if the premise were unreasonable.
He nodded.
“Honestly Johnny,” you opened, taking a breath before the truth could fly out. “I don’t know what to say to you if you didn't come here for sex.”
“No,” Johnny tilted his head, but he still wasn’t grasping it. “I’m here to help you. I want to be here for you, whatever’s going on.”
It was a sweet gesture. But it stung like hell.
“And that’s exactly why I’m so hurt,” you shook your head. “Because this, being my friend, checking in on me, making sure I’m okay. It doesn’t mean the same to me that it does to you.”
There it was. The first sliver of truth.
“What?”
He was finally starting to understand.
So you continued.
“The way I look at our arrangement, it’s, well, changed,” you explained. “I used to love it. The sneaking around and being friends, but it’s not working for me anymore. And then I hear about how you’re acting different, staying inside, staying with me. And you say things that are so kind and caring-”
“You don’t like the things I say?” Johnny sat down beside you, voice softening. He couldn’t help himself, drawn to you like opposite magnetic poles. He placed a hand on your arm, grounding, fingers tracing the wrinkles and crease of your elbow, warm as always.
“I do,” you admitted. “But that’s not the point.”
"I’m listening." he promised, eyes on your crestfallen face.
You took a breath, plotting out your next words.
“Recently, when you say and do these things, these grand, swooping, sweet gestures, like stroking my leg under the table and telling me I look nice, it makes me think that maybe, just maybe, I’ve won that devotion from you. And the thought hurts. Because it can never be true. Because I know your feelings haven’t changed for me.”
Neither of you spoke for a few moments, letting the weight of your words settle in the room. You stared down at your carpet, avoiding Johnny’s eyes until he broke the silence.
"Have your feelings changed?"
You paused, forgetting to admit the most important part of your declaration. His eyes were soft as you looked up, bright blue and safer than anywhere else in this strange new world. It was only one word, but you sounded it out in your mind before speaking, processing the atrocities that could follow. Nothing was worth the lie, not anymore. And besides, Johnny's gaze was transparent.
He smiled as your silence spoiled your answer, a sly look that upturns the end of his lips as you finally speak.
"Yes."
You dreamt this scenario in your worst nightmares, the vulnerability followed by Johnny calling off your arrangement and leaving you in smoke.
He stood, following the course of your bad dreams, but instead of leaving, he tightened his grip on you. Not to an unbearable point, but enough pressure to pull you with him.
"Come on," he beckoned, dragging you out of your room and lifting a finger to his parted lips as you snuck through the destitute hallways in the quiet of the night, together. As a single unit.
Though you were dying to ask, you followed behind him, hand in hand, wondering where on Earth he was taking you.
Johnny only stopped after pulling you up the stairwell and to the roof, where the cool night air blooms goosebumps on your bare arms and you can finally speak without any discovery from the others, the city sounds drowning out any conversation from above.
“Johnny, what are you-”
“I want to talk to you here, where anyone who looks hard enough can see us. Because you aren’t just some girl to me and this is important.” he informed you, standing just at the edge of the roof so that the city light illuminated his sharp jaw, shadows framing the shapes in his face.
You looked out into the sleeping city, sure that most of its inhabitants had been in bed for a while. But the meaning, the end of your secrecy, it’s one of the warmest gestures he’s ever made and this time there was no sting. No pang in your chest because this time you were sure he intended the message you’ve received. He just needed to confirm.
“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say this,” Johnny started, taking each of your hands into his warm ones. “I didn’t think I’d have to say it. I figured you’d understand it and we could just keep progressing through what we've been doing, but I see now that was cruel. You didn't deserve that and I’m sorry if I made you think you ever meant less to me than you really do.”
“I mean something to you?” you asked, the sermons of a smile sprouting on your lips.
Johnny let out a jubilant laugh, nodding urgently, one of his warm hands moving up to brace against your cheek.
“You’ve always meant something to me,” he grinned, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. “Why do you think I can’t leave this tower? Why I have to see you every single day. It’s driving me crazy. I literally can’t go a few hours without you. Since you first crash landed into New York, I cannot stop thinking about you.”
“I did not crash!” you defended.
“Sure you didn’t.” he laughed. “Crash and all, you are the most fascinating person I’ve ever met and the only person I’ve ever wanted so badly.”
“I bet you say that to all your other girls.” you quipped.
“What other girls?” Johnny countered, much to your delight. “I haven’t seen anyone since you got here.”
You wanted to cry at his statement, the crumbling of the mindset you had maintained since you started this game with him. There had never been anyone else for him, even before that first night you had spent with him, only those you constructed with your insecurities.
“I think I’m falling for you.” you admitted, leaning into his gentle careers.
“You only think?!” he exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes, for now. I’ll let you know when I’m sure,” you teased. “When you’ve earned it.”
Johnny smirked, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer.
“I might have an idea on how to accomplish that daunting task.”
“Uh-huh, and just what might that be?”
Johnny leaned his head into yours, his toothy grin visible behind his parted lips as he nudged your nose with his own.
“Why don’t you shut your pretty little mouth and find out?”
You obliged, your lips colliding with his like two stars before a supernova. It was messy and fierce, tongue and teeth clashing while your strong grip on Johnny’s waist held you steady against him.
It felt like hours had passed, kissing Johnny with every feeling, every urge you'd ever had for him. He littered bruises all along your neck, sneaking up every so often to meet your lips again through a breathless moan until you felt his hand slip up the skirt you had dawned for family dinner.
You yanked on his shirt, pressing the material over his head. Time couldn’t rob you of the endless pleasure the sight of his body brought you, no matter how many times you'd seen it. He was perfect.
He moved quickly, stripping off his shirt before robbing you of your panties and bunching up your skirt so that it covered your hips in a wrinkled thin line.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, the first compliment he's given you that you were sure he meant. You wrapped your hands around his neck, adjusting as he laid you down on the rooftop concrete, hovering over you with one hand splayed beside your head and the other sneaking down your stomach to meet your dripping center.
You were rushing tonight, quicker than the usual routine as a symptom of the night’s revolutions.
“Already?” he laughed lightly, flipping through your folds before dipping a finger inside you.
“It’s all that fucking under the table touching,” you breathed. “You did this to me.”
“Fuck,” he parted his mouth as the curse slipped out, pumping in as deep as he can reach with his finger before pulling out again. “You always feel so good.”
“Johnny,” you begged, desperate for more. “I need you.”
“And you’ll have me,” he promised, thumb rubbing against your clit. The sensation left your nose crinkled and your eyes wired shut, one of his favorite expressions. “But I want you to come on my fingers first.”
His thumb traced infinity symbols on your pulsing bundle of nerves, another finger added to the one already pumping in and out of you in the way he knew made you writhe beneath him.
It wasn't long before you came, hot arousal leaking out of you that Johnny swiped up with his swift fingers, plopping them into his mouth and sucking off your slick. The sight, the pure filth of it had you drooling through the shining stars and flames he made dance around your crown.
Your hands moved before you could think straight, tugging at Johnny’s belt and instantly undoing the button on his jeans.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he grinned at your eagerness, quick to undo his leather belt and send it flying across the rooftop into the darkness of the unknown. His pants were next, slipping down until he’s exposed enough that the tent in his boxers is braced against your thigh. You groped him through the fabric, shooting shock waves of pleasure through his entire center before pulling him out.
“Wait,” he managed through soft whimpers, pausing in the heat of the moment to help you up and take your place so that he was at your mercy beneath you. “So you don’t hurt your head.” he blurted.
“Yeah right,” you giggled, shaking your head and reaching for the hem of your own shirt, pulling it over your head in one quick motion and tossing the fabric aside. You settled on Johnny’s abs, reaching for his hand as you guided him to the clasp of your bra. He snapped in off it one go, eyes melting at the sight of you.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whimpered, watching in anticipation as you readjusted, lining up with him before languidly sidling down. He moved his hands to brace against your hips, the noises that left him too obscene for such a public space, but you matched him as he filled you up.
You both were focused on the point where you and Johnny intersect, watching intently as he slipped inside you and back out again as you raise your hips before sinking back down.
“Fuck, Johnny!” you cried.
“Just like that, shit,” he replied. “Keep it just like that, pretty girl.”
You knew you would pay for it, riding him like he could scorch all the consequences in the world that you have yet to face. But it felt so good and with every wonderful sound that leaves his mouth, you decided it truly didn’t matter. You’ll face the world for this. The whole galaxy if you had to. It was more than worth it.
Reaching up for him, you touched his face as the pace quickened, slow thrusts transitioning to loud slams as you bounced up and down, tits matching the rhythm of your movement.
“Fuck!” you bit your lip to remain quiet, fearful of the chance of others waking up to the dirty display.
Johnny only egged you on, one of his warm hands leaving your hip to rub patterns on your already overstimulated clit.
“Louder baby, let the whole world hear you.”
You couldn’t help, but do as he ordered, gasping and groaning for air as he bucked his hips up to score even deeper, hitting just the right spot that always made you dizzy with pleasure.
“Thats it, fuck,” he moaned. “You’re so fucking good. Riding me like this.”
Johnny’s hair became engulfed by his flame as he got closer, the yellow and orange flames licking the edge of the building and leaving behind black marks that you didn’t have the energy to pay any mind to. If his eyes weren't so far back, you were sure they’d be glowing.
You were almost there, and after a few more deep strokes you were spent, leaning back as your body twitched with release.
The two of you took your time with the reset as you hopped off of him and joined him on the concrete, poking fun at his flames and grinning as he silenced you with a kiss.
The rest of the night was a blur of sealed promises and swelling confessions. When you could stand, he dragged you down to his room, swapping your dirty clothes for a nightshirt from his closet. And for the first time, you let yourself fall asleep in Johnny's arms, free from the guilt and torment that once consumed you. Absent of the burning need to escape.
It wasn’t love, not yet, but it was certainly something close. Tangible, real, yours.
Maybe it was love. Because when you snuck out in the morning, it was long after he had woken up, sending you off with plenty of kisses of fire. You wanted to stay, but any minute longer would have increased your likelihood of being caught.
"Seriously," you let out a low laugh, pushing the greedy man away as he held you close, standing to walk you to the door with eager lips gracing your cheek. "I gotta go get ready."
"No, no you don't," Johnny stated matter-of-factly, breathing the words into your skin. "You're mine for the rest of the weekend. I’ll tell Reed you’re too sick to work."
It was a miracle that you ended up by the door in time for breakfast, incredibly messy, but happier than you had been in weeks. Johnny was on your six, touchy even after you made his morning and latched onto your back, arms chasing around your waist as you checked for any onlookers.
Unfortunately, H.E.R.B.I.E. was waiting at the end of the hallway, beeping frantically as he waved his mechanical arms, desperate for your attention.
"Hello Herbert," Johnny grinned from your shoulder, refusing to let you go as you attempted to wriggle from him, though it's all in good fun. "Scared us there."
"Wait, hush," you ordered, recognizing the urgency in the robot's tone. "Reed wants to see us? There's an emergency?!"
H.E.R.B.I.E. nodded his mechanical head, whirring away as he raced to the lab where you were sure the rest of the family was waiting.
"Damn thing must be broken," Johnny gritted his teeth as he slapped at his alert band, letting you go so you could rush after the robot, though he stayed hot on your trail. "My bracelet didn't go off."
A thousand scenarios cross your mind. What if Franklin had gotten sick beyond repair or the space time continuum became strained from your excessive presence in an alternate dimension? Reed never called emergencies unless the worst of the worst was upon you.
You ran the whole way, easily catching H.E.R.B.I.E. with Johnny at your side.
But what lay ahead wasn’t any scary reality you could predict.
It was worse, in fact. So much worse.
When you entered the lab, brushing away as many symptoms of you late night as you could, you were greeted by the three fourths of the Fantastic Four that you had not woken up beside, all huddled together in behind the large projector that Reed often only used for tracking space anomalies and viewing micro-experimentation. Today, however, a recorded segment of what appeared to be the news, with its flashy headlines in bold, was displayed, paused on a story about advancements in Subterranea.
"Good morning," Sue greeted you, smiling oddly and surrounded by an air of amusement. Reed, on the other hand, was tense as her side, his hardware set on full parental mode. He didn’t smile as you walked in, only staring.
“What’s going on?” you hesitantly asked, slow to join them in the center of the room.
Johnny rushed in not a moment later, breathing heavily as he grimaced as the same sight you had walked into.
"Johnny!” Reed greeted, but his tone was expectant rather than friendly. “Good, I wanted you both to come down and watch the news with us. In fact. we’ve rewound it to a particular story of interest.”
“Hopefully you’ll find it as titillating as we did.” Ben chimed in, as tickled as Sue.
Reed pressed a key on the board ahead of him as the video started to play.
“Coming up next, the resurgence of Johnny Storm!” the usual newscaster announced, followed by Johnny’s usual media photo. “The hero was spotted for the first time in weeks last night, though not quite in the position we’d expected him to be in, literally.”
Another picture, a blurry shot in the dark of night, but you were able to make out the top of the 4 that only featured on the Baxter Building and horrifically, a sprout of fire at the top. Where Johnny’s head had been. Where you had been.
Someone had taken evidence of it.
“This picture, taken by a construction worker during his night shift, allegedly shows Johnny’s flames. Others on the scene also reported strange sounds that accompanied the flames, suggesting the hero was not alone.”
Your stomach sank, briefly glancing as the guilty Johnny a few feet from you before you looked back to the screen.
“Maybe we should-”
“Nope,” Reed shot curtly, stopping you before you could try. “Just keep watching.”
“It’s speculated,” the woman continued. “-that the lucky woman is none other than the Baxter Building’s guest from another world who’s been staying with the Fantastic Four for many months now. In whose bed? I guess we all know now. While there’s no footage that confirms those allegations, another shot of the incident from just last night shows the outline of a woman with Johnny, one that many fans have theorized is the woman in question. We’ll be coming back to this story later at noon while we wait for more word to come in so stayed tuned and we-”
You felt mortified as the footage cut off, the recorded tape ending and the peering eyes of the three returning to a very suspicious you and Johnny.
“Care to explain?” Reed asked, his stare so intense that you felt frozen in his gaze.
"I don't know anything about that." you lied, eyes wide and anxious as all get out.
"That's so funny,” Sue added, not as stern as Reed, but just as intimidating. She pointed back to the projector. “-because I swear that girl on top of my brother looked just like you."
"How do we know that's me?" Johnny asked, met by blank stares. Even you turned to him with a look of incredulous confusion. "Yeah, alright…"
“How long has this been going on for?” Reed’s anger brewing in his harsh tone.
“So we can totally explain.” you started, backing up in the direction of the exit.
“You better.” Ben added.
“But first I-uh, I think, oh, do you hear that?! I think there’s a dog crying!”
“I hear it too!” Johnny agreed.
“We gotta go help it and I’m sure it’s going to take hours sooo...” you grabbed Johnny’s hand, pulling him to the exit before you could be interrogated any longer.
“Get back here!” Reed ordered, but you only sent him a guilty smile.
“See you later, bye!”
You and Johnny were gone before any of them could stop you, sprinting for his room where you could plan your escape.
Reed wanted to chase after you, but Sue held him back with a gentle force, preventing him from stretching out an arm to grab you or Johnny. She was just as shocked as he was, but much more accepting. She was your age once, just as excited running around with her Reed and if she was completely honest, she fully supported your insurrection if it meant commitment and happiness for her beloved baby brother.
"Let her go," she placed a light hand on his shoulder. "We'll track them down later."
“Fine,” Reed relented. “But I expect all the answers then!”
Ben chuckled, a rocky hand reaching up to scratch the pebbled stubble on his chin.
“I guess that explains why he stopped letting me share the shower with him.” he pursed his lips, putting the pieces together.
if it wasn’t for the nights by abba is so johnny storm coded, I can’t stop listening to it 🩵
like sneaking glances at each other through the baxter building and turning away from him to hide your smile when he flirts with you, AHHH! It makes me a want to write for him so bad!
synopsis: in which you moves to a new town and start to have a funny feeling about a boy who just might be as out of place as you are
warnings: slight language, kind of obsessive behavior, reader is going through something, complicated church feelings, alluded domestic abuse (not arvin though), please don’t read if you might be triggered 🫶
I'm gonna be so honest ... I didn't have a direct plan for Family Line until now and I'm very happy with the turn out. My original idea was just spice up on spice and I'm proud to report it's exactly that.
I am rewriting parts 1 & 2 because I was unhappy when I published them. I strongly encourage going back when I've changed them, but none of the core plot is different so it's not super necessary.
Writing Schedule will be out soon!
Also, I'm starting a taglist! Comment your favorite emoji if you want me to add you to it. 18+ only!
I'll be back with a writing schedule soon and I'm working on any requests!
synopsis: in which y/n tries to avoid arvin until fate drives them to tackle the tension between them
warnings: slight language, alluded domestic abuse (not arvin), misogyny, gory fight, arvin and y/n are a couple of badasses
word count: 4.7k
masterlist
series masterlist
The week following your first official church day is not your best. As if attending high school as the new kid isn’t already hard enough, the bruises you are now forced to hide make it unbearable, but of course like all other challenges, you have no choice, but to face it all head on and by yourself.
You tried reasoning with your sister in law, begging her to let you take a school day off for your injuries, but she is too deep in her denial. She’s lived with your brother for so many years now, brainwashed by his trickery and forever cursed to be an extension of him, his accessory. She hasn’t been a real person for years now. Though the proof is embedded in your black and blue skin, she refuses to recognize your very obvious problem and sends you off anyway.
Normally, you would’ve had no problem running from school as normal, your terror of your brother’s punishment keeps you in class for the entirety of the week, prevention while his temper is at its peak. You can’t have any suspicion on you until he calms down, his wrath is much too scary when the blame is on you. For all you know, it might very well be the last thing you ever do.
Unlike your Nashville teachers that would have called your mother and punished you for the remainder of the year if you had tried to skip class, the teachers in Coal Creek hardly seemed to notice. They were paid much too little to care about where their students were during class times. While you received a weird look from a couple of them, you were not dealt any sort of punishment. Your classmates had a very different reaction to your return.
You heard whispers everywhere you went, judging eyes staring at you from every direction. At first you worried some of the powder you had dusted over visible bruises had come off, but after a quick stop to the restroom before the dismissal bell, you were quick to realize that your injuries were indeed covered. You also learned from a group of girls hiding out to smoke in the only handicapped stall that your peers were avoiding you for other reasons.
It seemed the whole school had learned overnight that the flashy new preacher, that had moved into one of the fanciest houses in town, was your brother. In turn, your shyness was seen as a symptom of being aloof, though all of this sounded much differently out of the cackling mouths of the girls.
You had to admit, it stung your ego. But you reminded yourself of your Nashville home, of the people who really knew you that you were unlikely to see again, and you didn’t have the energy to care much what others thought. They weren’t worth your time.
You left the restroom, feeling the opposite of refreshed, and headed outside to begin your walk home until your quiet melancholy was interrupted by the snickers of a small group of boys. They smirked as they crossed your path, walking past you and straight to a cowering girl you recognized as Arvin’s sister from the church.
“You ugly cow.” one of the boys in the trio sneered at the girl, Lenora you recalled.
“Your brother’s not here to save you now!” another laughed.
“You know what that means, boys,” the last one grinned evilly, cornering her so that they would be out of sight of the general public. “We’ll have to fuck her in his place.”
You scoffed in disgust and stomped towards the trio, their heads turning your way at the sound. You thought you had invoked some sense of fear in them, giving them a reason to lay off Lenora, but instead they laughed and pointed at your haunches figure.
“Look boys, we’ve got us the newbie! I reckon she’ll need her cherry popped. Shall we throw her in as a bonus?”
You snarled at the comment, pushing past them in fury and grabbing a hold of Lenora by the sleeve of her dress.
“I’m sure you wish you could, but you’ll never get the chance. I wouldn’t fuck any of you ig O had a gun to my head, you repulsive pigs.” you glared, clutching your books to your chest with one of your arms and Lenora to your side with the other.
“What did you say to me?” one of the boys replied, offended. He leaned into you, a form of intimidation, but you were unfazed. No one could be worse than your brother.
“You heard me.”
It seemed as if they were about to pounce on you, baring their teeth in nasty grimaces like rabid animals, only to be interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up. It was your protection, a witness to whatever crime the boys were definitely about to commit. It parked just across from where all of you were standing, a clear view of your group.
“C’mon,” one of the boys urged, pulling away from the group and backing off, one of the others following though still aggrieved.
“You’ll pay for that, Teagardin. I don’t give a damn who your brother is.” the lead growled and stalked off with the others, leaving you and Lenora alone. You let go of your grip on the sleeve of her dress and brushed out the wrinkles you had left.
“Sorry about them.” you tried to give her a smile, but your face stayed mostly neutral, exhausted from the long school day.
“Golly, I sure am glad you’re here. I don’t think I could stand up to them like that. They’re much bigger than me.”
“It doesn’t matter how big someone is, you can always fight back.”
“You sound like my brother. He tries to stick up for me, but it don’t work too good. You’re the preacher's sister, right? Y/n?”
You nodded in confirmation, holding out your hand.
“It’s good to meet you.” you shook her hand as she took it.
“It’s good to meet you too. I’m Lenora.”
You stared at the girl with a serious expression, your hand separating from her to hold your stack of books over your chest.
“Can I give you some advice, Lenora?” you asked, hoping what you had to say would help give her brother some piece of mind. You knew what it was like to worry as he seemed to.
“Sure.”
“You always have a voice Lenora. And no one can take it from you. Don’t let anyone tell you any differently,” you glared in the direction the trio of boys had disappeared to, remembering the nasty things they had called the small girl in front of you. “Especially not men.”
The car that had parked previously beeped from behind you, cutting your conversation short.
“That’s my brother.” Lenora smiled as she began to walk past you.
You turned to face the car as saw for yourself the driver inside. Even through the dusty old windows of his rusty car, Arvin’s eyes met yours in an enchanting gaze. You didn’t understand why you couldn’t look away, how he held your stare like wrestlers in a chokehold and yet, his eyes never left yours either.
You walked with Lenora, closer to the car, but at the same time, keeping the appropriate distance.
“Hey Arvin,” Lenora greeted as she opened the passengers door to his car and tossed her books on the floor of the car. “This is Y/N. Y/N, this is my brother Arvin.” she pointed between the two of you.
Arvin nodded in your direction. He didn’t smile, but his face softened as if just the sight of you cured his daily ailments. You were relieving to be in the presence of.
“Ma’am.” he greeted.
You felt your lips part, but the sweet sensation of words escaped you and you felt yourself unable to reply. You nodded in return.
“We’re headed to the church y/n. Care to come along? You’re brother ought to be there.”
You nearly shivered at the mention of him, so focused on controlling your reaction in front of Arvin that you completely missed the lovesick way Lenora had mentioned him. Same as one would say the name of their favorite band, there was a personal history behind the word, one Lenora undoubtedly longed for. You on the other hand greatly feared what your brother would do to you if he saw you with the Russell’s, especially after his demonstration the day prior. Though he was unaware that you had spoken to Arvin, it wasn't a command he needed to verbalize to you. You were not to be seen with him. And so you unwillingly declined.
“I best wait for my ride.”
Lenora frowned as she slipped into the passenger's seat.
“That’s alright. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
You gave your best efforts at a parting smile, waving as Arvin’s stare broke from yours and the car pulled away onto the main road.
Your brother had failed to pick you up again, to no one’s surprise, so you started the long walk home. Brown eyes clouded your imagination the entire way home, filling your thoughts so that you were unable to daydream about anything else. You couldn’t describe the energy you could feel when you were anywhere near Arvin. It was like resisting gravity staying away from him, like committing a crime against all natural sense. Your desire grew with every interaction, but despite how badly you wanted him, you knew it would never work. You couldn’t risk your brother’s wrath, for Arvin’s safety and your own.
Tensions in your home had dialed down after a few more days, fading away like your bruises that were hardly visible now. You no longer needed to blush them with powder. As promised, the trio had made your situation at school much more difficult by spreading a nasty rumor that you had blown them in a three way after school and that you had been begging for a second round ever since. The names that followed were awful, each one more crass than the one before, though no one dared say them to your face. Your peers knew very well none of it was true partially because of your reputation as the preacher’s sister. You were only aware of their clarity via the same smoking bathroom clan that always gossiped during your lonely lunches in the adjacent stall. But there was always going to be some kind of lie, someone to pick on to make the high school life less of a living hell for everyone else. You just happened to become the monthly prey.
Though it was reasonably safe for you to try skipping school again as your brother had gone back to unintentionally ignoring you, Lenora had started talking with you at school and you found it much easier to attend your classes rather than constantly come up with explanations for why you weren’t at school. You didn’t consider her a friend compared to the relationships you had left in Nashville, but she was someone to talk to and someone was always better than no one at all. She was easy to distract, constantly blabbering about herself and her passion for her religion in a weirdly innocent way when you redirected any too personal question she asked you. You liked her better than anyone else in your school and while you weren’t as crazy for Jesus as she was, you enjoyed listening to her and letting her go on, especially when she brought up Arvin.
There were small things you gathered from your conversations with her like that he had dropped out of school to work, he was the same age as you, and that he himself was not a very religious individual. When he went to church, it was to escort by request of his grandmother or to be with Lenora while she visited her mother who lay six feet below.
It was dangerous how easily she fueled the fire, your desire to see Arvin burning hotter the more you learned about him, about how kind and considerate he was deep down inside. It was the very reason you knew you could never see him again, the reason you now avoided him when he came to pick up his sister. You hide out in the library instead.
“I’ve got so much to catch up on.” you had lied to Lenora, convincing her that as a mid year transfer, you wouldn’t be able to pass without hour long lonesome study sessions everyday after school. In reality, you spent your hour making progress in the most popular fiction titles from the high school’s very limited book supply.
“Alright,” she had agreed. “But one of these days, you’re going to come with me and Arvin and we can study together at my place. My Grandma would just adore you.”
The end of the week had rolled by before you knew it and after another painfully long Sunday church service without Arvin, you found yourself starting your third week at school. Class times had become slightly more bearable and you found yourself actually looking forward to something everyday when you were finally able to escape into the library.
No one was there when you arrived besides the librarian who was professionally known as Ms. Hendricks, but she let you call her Barbara. All was as it had been the last time you had been there. Your current book was still available on the shelf and your favorite seat, though dusty, was vacant for you to take.
As usual, Barbara left you alone with your reading to tend to her two kids at home and while normally you would have stayed your full allotted hour, today felt different. You were one chapter in when a light sprinkle started to trickle from the sky outside, quickly transforming into a pour as the sound of roaring splattered precipitation grew louder and louder and the storm got more intense. You found yourself skimming over lines and flipping through pages without really comprehending what you were reading, like gathering currency with no worth. There was no point in fighting with the rain; it had already won. You put everything back into place and left the library as instructed by Barbara, with the lights out and the door locked.
You were dreading the walk home. As your brother undoubtedly neglected to pick you up once more, you were trying to come to terms with walking miles in the pouring rain, so lost in thought that when you stepped outside, you nearly missed Arvin’s parked car in front of the building. You stopped in your tracks when you spotted it, your arms relaxing as you lowered your school books that were going to be a makeshift rain cover and looked for any sign of the boy. The car was empty, but still running with a low hum as smoke leisurely left the exhaust pipe and you were sure Arvin intended to return to it soon.
Suddenly, from across the parking lot in the local garage, short screams burst out in uneven pauses, an indication that someone was getting their ass whooped. Your feet had already started moving before you could even think about the consequences of checking out the scene and to your surprise when you walked inside the dry garage, you were greeted by the sight of two of the boys who had harassed you and Lenora before. Gene Dinwoodie’s head slammed beneath his car’s hood leaving him stuck and motionless while beside him, Orville Buckman was getting the shit beat out of him by the one and only, Arvin Russell.
Arvin was grunting as he landed punch after punch, blood spurting from the boy’s nose as his face became redder with each blow. He paused his assault to reach for a nearby Twinkie, one that had likely fallen out of Orville’s greasy hands when Arvin had stumbled upon him.
“Want your fuckin’ Twinkie now? Is that what you want?!” shouted Arvin as he smushed the Twinkie in the boy’s bloodied face, mixing the pale cake with the red substance to make a gory mix. The boy cried beneath him, frozen on the ground with fear as Arvin pulled a paper bag over his head and finally pulled away, stepping back to admire his work.
“Arvin?” your voice fell flat as you brought his attention to you, watching as he turned around to face you.
“Y/n,” he breathed, his eyes suddenly wide as he stared behind your figure and pointed at something behind your view. “Look out!”
You turned to see Gene, no longer motionless under the car hood and holding the wrench he must have been using on the car. He swung for you, aiming for your back in an attempt to literally knock you down.
You dodged the blow quickly and smacked the wrench out of his hand with your textbooks, slamming them back up into his face as you knocked him to the floor. It was by no means as impressive as the fight choreography that movie stars flawlessly memorized for their action films, but it wasn’t bad either. Gene fell back into the cement, his head taking much of the blow before his body thudded.
You gathered your books up again and stalked towards his unmoving body, watching his eyes slowly roll around as they tried to find something to focus on. You lifted up one of your flat covered feet and aimed for the center of his crotch, smirking as you heard the pained groan that followed your powerful kick. It was nothing he didn't deserve.
"What's the matter Gene?" you taunted, smiling cruelly as he reached for his crotch in anguish. "I thought that's where you wanted me."
Arvin was on him not even a moment later, pulling another paper bag over Gene’s face and punching it until it was crumpled and stained with red. Gene wept underneath, unable to defend himself as Arvin leaned his head down, muttering into his ear, Gene’s shirt roughly balled in his bloodied hand.
“You touch my sister again … I’ll kill you,” Arvin threatened. “Do you understand me?” he asked to which there was no reply from the wheezing bloody bag aside from a ragged yes that was barely audible. “Do you understand me?!” Arvin repeated more urgently as he shook Gene.
“I’m so sorry.” Gene uttered, louder this time yet weak all the same. Arvin stood, satisfied with his answer and slammed Gene’s face back into the cement for good measure before turning back towards you. He lunged at your arm, securing your wrist in his grasp before starting from the violent scene, pulling you with him.
“C’mom,” he urged. His tone was much calmer with you despite the mess you had left. “We gotta go.”
You adjusted so that your hand could entwine with his and followed him into the pouring rain where he led you to his car. He leaned into you as you ran, attempting to cover you from the rain though it did little. You separated to hop in, jumping into the passenger's side and slamming the door behind you, setting your books down by your feet. It was only then in the chilled atmosphere of his car that you realized how fast your heart was racing.
Arvin was sitting in the driver’s side, leaning back against his seat as his breaths came out in heavy short bursts of air as he tried to catch his breath. He looked over at you, his eyes clouded with concern.
“You okay?”
Besides your straggly locks of wet hair, your soggy books, and your dampened clothes, you were completely unharmed.
“I’m fine,” you nodded. “I got Gene before he could touch me.”
“Fuckin’ Dinwoodie.” seethed Arvin, wiping away some of the rain from his face.
“Oh shit! Arvin, your hands.” You gasped, turning to see the bloody mess so much violence had left on his knuckles. You weren’t sure how much of it was his, if any. Arvin looked down at his crimson stained fingers and gestured at the glove compartment before you, pointing at it with one bloody finger.
“There’s a rag in there. Could you get it?”
You opened it up and pulled out an old oil stained linen cloth, handing it to Arvin who started wiping the blood off of his red stained hands. He cleaned up most of the bigger splotches, but you were quick to notice that he struggled to wipe away anything in the crevice of his fingers, his hands too shaky to mop it away.
“Here, let me help.” you reached for the rag and stole it out of his hands, cleaning up what was left of the sticky red blood. You took his hands in yours, one at a time, and carefully you managed to dab away what was left on his hands, feeling them relax under your touch like a calming sedative, curing him of the aftermath from his rage.
“I don’t- I don’t normally do all of these things,” Arvin admitted. “Those boys, they all hurt Lenora.”
“I know,” you set his hands down and handed him the rag back, having cleaned up all the blood. “They’ve had it coming for a long time now. It felt so nice sending Gene on his back.”
“He hasn’t gone after you too, has he?” Worry was written all over Arvin’s face as his expression contorted from some sort of calm to aggravated all over again.
“Not as much as he picks after Lenora. It’s just been talk up til now. He hasn’t had the guts to act on any of his threats.”
“That asshole,” Arvin tensed in his seat. “I oughta kill him right now.”
He reached for the handle to his door, but before he could open it, you rubbed his shoulder, discouraging him.
“Don’t, you’ll get yourself in trouble.”
He settled into his seat again, though he was turned farther towards you, exhaling a puff of cool air.
“Alright,” he agreed. You tried to fold your hand back into your lap, but Arvin caught it before you could move, trapping it below his own palm and sealing it to the rough fabric of his denim jacket sending sparks down your arm and a chill through your spine. His eyes met yours in that addictive gaze of his, one that you hadn’t yet managed to resist as he lowered his voice and murmured to you, “Is that the only reason you want me to stay?”
You took a sharp inhale, staring back into his soft brown eyes, same as the color of a well loved leather bound book. He was enticing you, testing how well you could deny his advances, the boundaries of your self control. He had to have known how badly you wanted him, how he took up every corner of your thoughts and had special appearances in the dreams you so often escaped to at home.
“I should go…” you trailed off as his face moved closer to yours, his gaze shifting down to your lips. Almost instinctively, you leaned in to him too, your knees bumping into his as you scooted closer to him unintentionally. His lips were so close to yours now, less than an inch, you’re sure. Your mouth parted as you felt the warmth of his breath tickling your cupid's bow and your eyelids fluttering shut. “I can’t be seen with you.” you breathed, the only thing keeping you off of him was the fear of being caught.
He seemed to understand as he didn’t come any closer, but he also didn’t move away.
“Then let me take you somewhere," he invited, waiting for your permission. "I can find a place where we won’t be seen.”
You knew what you should say. You knew the smart choice would be to refuse his very generous offer and walk home alone in the rain with a heavy heart as you daydream about what could’ve been all the way home. You knew your brother would skin the both of you alive if he ever found out. But as Arvin’s lips lightly brushed over your own, it was hard to give a damn about what your brother wanted and the growing feeling in the pit of your abdomen told you that you couldn't hold off from the temptation any longer.
“Please.” you mustered, barely able to pull away from him, but you knew you had to if he was going to drive you anywhere.
He nodded and without further wait, he shifted into drive and pulled out of the parking lot of your high school, speeding down the main road and off onto a street you’d never been before, though it was nothing unusual considering you were still fairly new to town.
“I thought you didn’t wanna see me no more,” Arvin started, turning on his windshield wipers to keep the rain off. “I hardly see you ‘round town.”
“I’ve started going to my classes.” you confessed. “I didn’t want to lie anymore. Lenora gets suspicious of me sometimes.”
“She says y’all are getting along really well. She was wondering if you could stay over sometime.”
You smiled at the thought, knowing that it could never happen with your brother as your guardian. He'd never let you spend the night anywhere, least of all at the Russell's. “She’s very sweet,” you agreed. “She’s told me a lot about you.”
“Oh really?”
“You’re right though. I have been avoiding seeing you.”
“Why?”
You paused as he pulled onto an unpaved road, one that lacked the usual wear from too many tire tracks. Wherever Arvin was taking you, it sure was private.
“Because,” you began. “You know what it’s like."
He furrowed his brows, intrigued by your statement.
"Go on." he murmured, eyes briefly glancing at your face before returning to the road.
"I don’t know what it is about you, but it’s something I can hardly resist. You’re so different from anyone else I’ve met in this town, and I barely know you, but at the same time, it’s like I know exactly who you are. Just by the way you look at me.” The road got rougher as it transitioned from dirt to unmarked grass as Arvin drove farther into the forest. “I feel like I should be scared of you. You could murder me for all I know. But at the same time, whatever this is between us, it’s so new to me. I just want to wrap myself in it.”
There was a clearing in the trees up ahead, one that was vacant of any human life and shielded you from much of the heavy rainfall and any wandering eyes. Arvin drove into the center of it, turning off the ignition as he turned to you.
“You mean all of that?”
You looked at him, taking in the way his gaze seemed to pass over every pretentious lie ever made about you during your time in Coal Creek. It was like he could only see the real you. "Would it be so crazy if I did?"
"Yes."
You chuckled lightly before nodding in confirmation. “I don’t know you,” you whispered despite the coverage of the forest from any unwanted ears. “But I want you, Arvin.”
You started to lean in, without really meaning to. Arvin did the same and before you could've anticipated it, your hand was bracing against his neck, so close you could feel the quick pulse of his heart as it beat within his chest. The feeling of his nose nuzzling against yours was enough to make your eyes flutter shut as his lips brushed over yours, his breath hitting against your lips as his hand gripped your thigh over your knee length skirt. It took everything in you not to immediately give in to him, the desire spreading to every fiber in every muscle of your body from your core only intensifying when you notice his lips parting, longing for yours to take them.
“Y/n.” he breathes, yearning for you while returning your confession with one simple word that somehow says all that he needs it to. He wants you too.
Before you can reply, his mouth is on yours and you find yourself caught up in a heated kiss.
synopsis: in which you moves to a new town and start to have a funny feeling about a boy who just might be as out of place as you are
warnings: slight language, kind of obsessive behavior, reader is going through something, complicated church feelings, alluded domestic abuse (not arvin though), please don't read if you might be triggered 🫶
word count: 6k
masterlist
series masterlist
“It’s all gonna be okay, sis.” your brother smirked from the driver's seat as he pulled onto a dirt road, his wife’s hand much too close to his thigh considering they weren’t all alone.
But it wasn’t her fault. You saw the sly moment, how his hand reached for her wrist, moving and adjusting until it was where he liked it. The motion disgusted you, almost as much as his embellished endearment. You so hated how the word tumbled from his tongue with ease. Sis.
As if he’d ever treated you like family.
“Mm.” you glared, staring aimlessly into the blue, cloudless sky up above. The only thing that separated you was a smudged window and your plain common sense that prevented defiance. A silent sigh parted from your lips. You should’ve worn your funeral black the way you were mourning.
You missed your old life, your mother, and mostly you missed being away from your hated brother.
You had a pleasant life back in Nashville. Nice friends (nice enough at least), a big house, and your favorite person by your side: your mom. Even when your brother was still young enough to live with you, before marriage and Bible College, when his tyranny was merely a blip on your radar screen, life was picturesque. You believed you had it to be better than most. Even when school weighed you down, you could always enjoy sipping an iced tea on the white porch or late nights reading in your mother’s garden.
And even when your brother finally revealed his brutal hand, you could stand it in paradise. Stifle your complaints until long after he had returned to his wife in his own home and you could finally release every murderous thought into your journal. It had been in vain.
You’d been stripped of all your happy belongings. There was no more big house, no more ritzy friends, and any sort of close familial relationship like the one between you and your mother was unlikely.
You felt like the lost stringed balloon of a small child, bound to soar into the empty unbinding sky if it wasn’t caught in a snarled branch.
There was no escaping.
You weren’t even sure if you could endure.
The drive felt endless, you seated in the back with a scowl on your face while your brother and his wife took up the front. They laughed occasionally, a disjointed almost inhumane sound. Nothing sincere.
The process all happened so suddenly. Not even a process at all, but a switch flipping. Quick, instant darkness, no room for protest.
You returned home from school to find your bedroom bare, all of your movable possessions packed up into two large bags. No warning or sign, though now that you thought about it, you should have taken the hint when you were exempt from your weekly homework. Your mother didn’t even spring the news until you ran into her at the bottom of your staircase, a head busy with questions that required only one answer. She embraced you as she explained that you and you alone were moving, without her.
“This big city ain’t right for a growing girl.” she had said, wiping your tears away with her thumb. “You can find God out there. He’s waiting.”
It was your brother she sent you to live with, condemning you in every sense of the action. She tried to convince you of the adventures that awaited you in a West Virginian home closer to God, but you could not be swayed. You could barely breathe after it had happened. Within an hour, you had been forced into Preston’s fancy car and waved away, only told that he would care for you as any older brother should. Bullshit. You knew he was barely even capable of taking care of himself.
You just didn’t understand. You were of age, old enough to legally buy a house and work for the money if your mother was sick of having you around. But you’d been so happy together, it didn't make any sense.
Maybe that was the reason you longed for the sky. It represented not escape, not freedom, but emptiness. Empty like the space where your heart had once beat.
˗ˏˋ ♱⃓ ˎˊ˗
Eventually you all had gotten to your destination, but of course like everything in your life, the church came first. No matter how you felt, be it angry or exhausted or too drained to even comprehend what emotions were, you were always expected to make time and space for your faith. Even if your body was collapsing. Even if you didn’t believe in it.
Your views didn't exactly line up with your family’s. You never had that communal sensation when you were taken to church that seemed to touch the souls and fill the hearts of everyone else in attendance. It wasn’t that you disagreed with it, you didn’t. You didn't see Christianity as one thing or another whether good or bad. Certainly weaponized in the hands of bad people, but by itself, the Bible was only a story. It just was and whatever it was, you always felt as if you didn't belong with it, or more accurately, it didn’t belong with you. Like a pair of tight jeans, you simply didn’t fit. Organized religion with its many sets of rules and responsibilities was just not for you, at least not the kind your family strictly practiced.
It was the only thing you and your mother disagreed on and if you had known that it would eventually land you in the home of the man you hated the most, you would have started pretending to be the perfectly polished church girl of your mother's dreams ages ago.
Of course, before seeing anything in town, your first stop was the tiny chapel Preston was going to preach at come early Sunday morning. Only four days away. It was pretty, windows and white wooden plank walls that were filled with the hopes and dreams of the people. The sight of the small structure and the tower that topped it, like the fragile crown of a porcelain doll, made you feel sorry for them. He was going to wreck their lives, just as he had wrecked yours.
He ordered you to follow him inside after which you accompanied him through many mundane tasks. There was the walk through the pews and the altar and then a meeting with the retiring pastor, your uncle, who was old and dying and happy to gift a hand-out to family. He didn’t seem to know about your brother’s unholy reputation back in Nashville. You doubted the invitation would’ve been extended if he had.
Bored and emotionally exhausted, you strayed from the pair as their conversation steered towards your own future in the church and speculating which acclaimed Christian university you were worthy enough to attend. It sickened you, two men who hardly knew you, batting your name around like a dead mouse. You couldn’t listen to it anymore so you opted to go stretch your legs and amble along the graveyards where you were sure to find solitude among the souls who had long been laid to rest.
Shockingly, there were living people amongst the dead.
It took you a while to notice them, busy comparing Preston’s flashy Cadillac to its much humbler surroundings. Something so new, so symbolic of self-importance didn't belong in a place like this. Like a Vegas casino in the Pantheon.
That’s when you noticed another car in the distance, one much older and parked next to the head of a long line of stone grave plots. There were two people, a girl nestled in the grass in front of someone she must’ve lost. She had a Bible splayed on her lap and by the way you could make out subtle movements from her mouth, you guessed she was reading out a passage. Tearfully as her grief streamed down her porcelain cheeks. And the mossy tarnish around the stone suggested that her relative had been resting for many years.
To cry for someone gone for so long, it was all very strange to you. Grief had yet to grace your door and you hadn’t lost enough to understand it.
However, the peculiarities didn’t end with her.
The boy’s behavior was equally unusual. For a while you hypothesized that she was reading for his ears as well, but he didn’t crouch in mourning as she did. Instead he seemed quite aloof, standing awkwardly at a distance from his counterpart and staring out into the forest. He seemed to show no remorse for the dead as his face remained still and unchanging, arms folded. But there was more to it. There had to be. Maybe pain founded his coarse exterior.
As weird as it was, the enjoyment watching him sprouted in you was the first time you’d felt anything other than misery since the move. You tried to unpuzzle what he was so focused on. Could it be an animal? Or maybe nothing at all?
It was all fun speculation until he looked at you.
Quickly, you found cover behind the mouth of the front door. It wasn’t a difficult dash, you hadn’t made it further than the wooden frame to begin with. Still, you cursed yourself for being so obvious. In a town so small, gossip spread like wildfire. No doubt you’d be dubbed the stalker before you could start school the next day. You’d never make friends now and you so desperately needed them. Anyone to keep you better company than your brother, although, he probably wouldn’t allow anything that would improve your mood.
Curious, you turned back to the lot once many seconds had passed. You were confident he had caught you spying, but the boy made no move to confront you. He wasn’t even facing the chapel. Instead his head pointed down, staring at the dirt on his cheap boots.
“What are you doing?”
Your head snapped back towards Preston as his sharp tone cut across the tiny church.
“Just getting some air.” you replied. It seemed reasonable enough, though you were careful to hide your annoyance at the interruption.
“You can get plenty when Uncle leaves. Come back over here.”
You frowned as your looming misery returned and you retreated from the doorway to stand by your brother. Your Uncle offered you a smile. You couldn’t summon one to reciprocate.
By the time you did leave the church, the sun was setting low in the distant line of the forest and the only remaining sign of the couple were the parallel tire marks their car left behind in the gravel.
˗ˏˋ ♱⃓ ˎˊ˗
Your first few days in town had been nothing short of dreadful.
It didn’t take you long to get settled into your new room. You only had a few bags to unpack and most of what you brought were your clothes. Nothing could top your old room at your mother’s house, but it was better than what you expected. If you were forced to live in the same house as your brother, at least it was in a decent space.
You approached the local school with a positive outlook, but after two uneventful periods, you had deemed it unworthy of your time. To expect more from the curriculum was a mistake. Every core class was at least a year behind where you had left off. It didn’t compare to the resources you’d had attending your Nashville prep school. It just couldn’t.
At this rate, your future here proved to be sliding in the same direction: bleak and boring.
With fewer kids, you ran into another troubling issue. There didn’t seem to be a place for you in any of the classic high school groups, each with decades of their own history. The only students who even acknowledged you were sleazy guys looking for a way into your skirt. Bullies.
From the many observations you’d accumulated during your limited time, you hypothesized that your coming would cause the same ruckus to the environment as your absence. No one would miss you. Not even your teachers, they surely weren’t compensated enough to care.
So you developed a new routine.
You snuck out during the passing period, hiding in one of the grimy bathroom stalls and sneaking out once the halls were empty.
Wandering through the woods, you didn't restrict yourself with any plans or silly rules. Only that you should time your return close to dismissal and to dodge all spying eyes ultimate exploration. It only took you a day to learn that you could stay out as long as you desired. Just because your brother drove you in the mornings, didn’t mean he felt bound to his word to pick you up in the afternoons. Instead, he made it obvious that you were expected to walk. So you did it on your own time.
It took a while to get used to navigating, but you managed to find your way to the church and then to your house. The journey was long, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You were happier that way, occupied. The change of pace from city life was nice as you’d never spent so much time encircled by nature. It only took a few more days before you could map out the entire town, go anywhere within 10 miles.
Seeing as people weren’t accustomed to eavesdroppers, you learned a lot from local gossip. You didn’t get any names, no one was ever mindless enough to give names, but from context clues, you could easily link each crime to its culprit. Including the town consensus on you.
No one quite knew what to make of you. Preston had proved to be a charming, kind fellow (a cheap facade) to those who had bumped into him, but you? You weren’t around enough to form an opinion on. And that was prior to your advanced game of hide and seek.
You also managed to catch a few more glimpses of the pair from before. They were siblings, you learned, and unlike your sorry excuse for a brother, hers didn’t bail during pick up time. Likely, he also refrained from putting her through psychological torture, but there was never any guarantee. At least he didn’t spread word of your spying.
They were frequent visitors of the church. Many people came for your brother, but the pair always kept to themselves and settled by the same plot far from the chapel. You didn’t watch them for long as being too close to the church put you at risk of seeing Preston, but their consistency afforded you the privilege of spotting them on your own schedule. It was daily, the pick up from school straight into an hour of grieving.
You didn’t try to follow them, not at first, but their schedule aligned with your wild one in a way. And the repetition captivated you. It was all very interesting.
You’d wait at the edges of school, not to be seen during pick up just in case your brother decided to come. But he never did. So you indulged in watching instead.
You’d always enjoyed the thrill of figuring others out. Picking them apart and discovering what made them tick, sliding the pieces of the puzzle together. If people watching was a sport, the pair were a gold mine. Particularly the boy who was guarded by a stronghold and mystery.
The girl would run to her brother’s car, a trail of decorumless boys in her wake and together they would drive off to the church where you always caught them an hour later. By the time you made your way over, they would be finished. Always at the same hour and often for the same duration of time.
The only day you were ever stirred to move from your hiding spot was a particularly bad one. The bullies had caught the girl, stopping her at the school entrance before she could make it to the afternoon sun. They dragged her to the side of the school, drowning her in insults and stood unfazed by the little fight she put up in resistance. It wasn't fair.
Grip tightening on the strap of your bookbag, you were ready to swing at them until her brother raced into the scene. He managed to fight them off, though he did so very poorly. You could tell from the aged bruise on his cheek that it hadn’t been the first time they were able to catch her. It certainly wouldn’t be the last.
As fate would have it, you managed to catch them on your day off from adventuring as well.
Placing the last item from your haul on the check out counter, your sister in law had approved your request for fresh air, content with finishing the bagging on her own. While grocery shopping wasn’t your ideal Saturday activity, the alternative had been staying home with your brother. It wasn’t a difficult decision. Afterall, your sister in law tended to be much more pleasant without her husband.
Messing with some of the flowers outside the store, you were caught off guard when you finally noticed it. His car, parked just across the street, keys still in the slotted in the ignition. It was empty, but you ducked from it anyway, frightened by the promise of return.
He hadn’t been in the grocery, you would’ve spotted him. There was a laugh nearby, directing your eyes to the window of the nearby butcher shop where you could make out the outline of his face, topped by his distinct baseball cap.
He was talking to the man working the counter and by some luck, you were close enough to catch much of the conversation.
“What you got planned after school?” the counterboy had prompted. You wondered if they knew each other outside of being residents in the same tiny town.
“Cliff Baker says he can get me on the crew laying blacktop on the Greenbrier stretch off Route 60.” the boy answered. “I’m probably just gonna do that.”
Now that was fascinating.
With your viewpoint, you could tell the boy was fairly young for such a harsh work force. Reasonably, he could only be a few years older than you if not your age. But he wasn’t in school. You weren’t used to such deviations, everyone attended school back where you were from. The prospect of something different forced so many questions to float through your mind.
Was leaving school a choice? How long had it been since he’d seen the interior walls of a classroom? Did he have to work to provide? You were so intrigued.
Carried away by the waves of your thoughts, you were startled when a woman appeared just next to you clearing her throat to get your attention.
“You're that preacher’s girl, ain’t cha?” she drawled.
You stuttered, stumbling over your words as you tried to calm yourself from the initial disturbance.
“Y-yes, his sister.”
“Were you wishing to get a cut?” she nodded over towards the butcher. “I could introduce you if you liked.”
That was definitely not what you would like.
“I - um…”
A call sounded in the distance as your sister in law emerged from the grocery store, beckoning for your help with loading everything into the car.
You sighed in relief, offering the woman a smile for an apology before hurrying towards where you were needed. It was an extension, an introduction into the community you never meant to live amongst. But for the time, you much preferred your anonymity. You would cling onto your position as ghost for as long as you could.
Sunday rolled around and you were surprised by your excitement as you dressed for morning service. It wasn’t much, only small sparks when you pictured finally meeting the pair that had caught your interest, but it was a radical switch from the misery and numbness you had grown used to.
Those first twenty minutes weren’t at all special, nothing short of absolute torture as you were forced to standing beside your brother and your sister in law as if you supported them. You smiled politely, attempting not to look too bothered as Preston greedily accepted dish after dish as if he himself was the holy son of God people came to worship. You grew tiresome before long, making your discomfort difficult for only an idiot to miss.
You felt like a tool, prissied up like a doll and set on display to elevate the perception of your brother. The townsfolk were nice enough, acknowledging you despite the fact that Preston refused to introduce you. It wasn’t enough to ease your sorrows.
But finally, after painful cheek pinches from countless elderly strangers who were eager to meet their new Reverend, you were rewarded with their presence.
Led by a withered woman who was too old to be a mother, the girl appeared from behind her followed closely by her brother. You were glad you could greet the women first for as soon as he stood before your family, your eyes struggled to take in anything else.
He was very attractive. Purely handsome, not in the privileged way that filthy rich guys were, fueled by money wasting products that promised so much only to offer so little. No. It was obvious he came by his looks naturally. It was almost difficult to take him in.
You started at his jawline, tracking up the fine sharp edges with your gaze. They were sprinkled with the lightest of freckles that only kissed his complexion in a few different areas. His head, now absent of his usual cap, was adorned by brown locks and the hat grease that gently held them back, allowing just enough to stay loose for you to notice a slight curl pattern. He wore a white button up, an old wife beater underneath that concealed his defined muscular structure. And his eyes, a dark addictive coffee that bore into yours. Heat rushed through your cheeks once you noticed, but you made no movement, gave no sign as to the effect he was having on you.
"Pleased to meet you, Reverend. Emma Russell." the older woman introduced herself, holding her hand out to Preston and you. You shook it absentmindedly, and though you fought it, your gaze didn’t leave the boy. You couldn’t and it seemed he struggled similarly as his eyes stayed glued on you. Captivated like you were a shooting star, or a violent car chase. No one else seemed to notice.
"Nice to meet you too. What you got there?" your brother asked next to you, sticking his finger into the dish presented to him and popping it into his mouth, swirling the juices around. Normally you would have been horrified, but his actions went unnoticed as you tried to block out every impure thought that came to mind in that church when your gaze wandered down to the boys lips, pink and moist as he wet them with the tip of his tongue.
You’d been with plenty of boys back in Nashville, squirmed under the stare of so many eyes, but this was different. There were feelings in the mix you’d never dealt with before. A pull. Like gravity. Inescapable and ever stronger the longer you stayed in his orbit.
You just can’t put your finger on it, why he’s seemed so special. He’s more than what you’ve fantasized him as, more than another member of the town. He’s real and breathing and right in front of you, close enough that you could reach out and caress the fabric of his pull on. You refrain.
Most of what went on in the next few seconds passed through one of your ears and right out the other. You didn’t catch Preston preaching nor his rudeness as he swirled another finger through the juices of the dish presented to him. For a moment you were lost in a void no person nor feeling could penetrate, not even the deep rooted disgust you held for your brother. Just you and the boy. No one else. You didn’t even know his name and yet you were sure he felt the same pull, driving you together. You could see it in the way he looked at you.
Like there was no one else in the world.
For once you were glad to find yourself settled in the front of the congregation, seated next to your sister in law. While you didn’t love the attention your place begged, it was the easiest place to pick out the boy from. You discovered him staring at you again once you had plucked him from the crowd. He was much more conspicuous now, looking away from time to time to check on his surroundings, though he glanced at you the most. You decided to do the same, immediately turning to your brother as the man cleared his throat to speak, dishing himself up before the starved. His horridness made it so easy to rush right back to the boy’s eyes, but you resisted the urge. What a mistake.
He smirked, an expression that represented his excitement to preach to a devoted crowd. You’d always hated that face, it and the power he wielded.
There was no real meaning behind his sermons, no substance behind his preaches. He was one of those people who loved the sound of his own voice, so much so he felt it generous to share it with others. Sometimes you wondered if he had actually wanted to be a Reverend, or if he just liked the sound of a job where he could be paid to make people listen to him. The praise he received was a bonus.
“Friends,” he began.
You thought it started off alright, not a hint of hypocrisy or his inner condescending narcissism. That was until he got to the Russell’s dish, insulting it by claiming he was sparing others by eating all of it himself.
You wished the level he had stooped to was more of a surprise, going as far to publicly call the Russell’s poor, but you knew how awful your brother was. It was why you detested him so.
A shiver rushed through your spin as the boy’s stare turned from curious to cold, glaring back at you. But there was still a rush, the pull still intact. Only now you’d never get to explore it. Not while Preston could breathe and talk.
In the applaudsome crowd, the boy caressed the older woman's shoulder, comforting her as her dish was bashed. She looked like she was about to cry.
You felt for her, empathy rushing through you though it was quickly stilted by something hotter. Your own anger, the kind your brother had always brewed in you. It was horrible and you bore it with struggle, hating the way he could still stew such strong feelings. You knew he was like this so what was the point of reacting? But you couldn’t help it. Dampening the anger would be like containing a thunderstorm. Impossible.
Once everyone had been dismissed, you hurried down the center aisle and rushed outside, causing a small disturbance as the door slammed behind you.
Rocks flew in all directions and you stomped through the gravel, wishing you could vandalize Preston’s stupid Cadillac or drive it far from the hell he'd created. He'd kill you if he ever caught you, but you couldn’t summon cause to care. You were transfixed on the vehicle, fists clenched until the squeak of the door broke you from your trance.
Of the short list of people who you’d guess to chase after you, he didn't even make the honorable mentions. But there he was. The boy himself, in broad daylight with his steely gaze locked on you as he approached you for the very first time.
Under different circumstances, you’d be grateful for this outcome. But your heart didn’t race as the pull snapped into place. And your anger simmered, ever present.
"What are you doing out here?" you glared, hoping that your dramatic entrance had made it clear you wanted to be alone, even if it was him who followed you.
"I could ask you the same thing." he replied, though there was a sort of calmness to his words to balance out the frustration of his public shame.
Contrary to his exterior, he knew you weren’t the one to blame. You noticed his accent wasn’t quite as thick as others you had heard in this small town, but clear enough to alter his speech into a smooth regional drawl. He may have arrived here long before you, but he was an outsider. Like you.
“I know you,” he stated, observing you as he neared, step by step and at steady pace. You were immediately pulled from your state of anger, shocked by the prospect. “I wasn’t so sure before. I thought I’d started seein’ things. Damn smokes messin’ with my brain, but now that you’re here, and in that dress… I’m sure it’s all real now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve seen you ‘round town the last few days. Skipping school and walking everywhere.”
“That’s creepy,” you feigned disgust, though you had to admit, you weren’t at all bothered by it. “You shouldn’t keep watch of girls like that. It freaks them out.”
“Like how you haven’t been watching me?” he raised an eyebrow, halting his approach to stand only a couple feet from you, closer than he had ever been before.
You almost gasped from the realization. You’d been so careful, stayed hidden to not make it obvious. But still, he knew.
“You wore that dress here a few days ago, hiding back in that chapel,” he paused to glance behind him where the church doors hid the rest of the congregation. “First time I ever saw you, watching me like a damn hawk.”
He raised his arm to run his fingers through his hair, combing back loose curls that had been disturbed during his attempt to follow you out the door.
“Now, I can’t count the times I’ve caught you with both hands. At school when I fetch Lenora, here… Even just yesterday, I can’t even take Grandma out without catching you.” he admited.
Lenora
His sister’s name pinged in your brain like a tune you wouldn’t be quick to forget.
“I apologize,” you replied in honesty. Though it didn’t make sense, keeping all those sightings to himself. “But you didn’t tell anyone.”
It’s more of a question than a statement. And he had a waiting answer.
“Guess I didn’t mind it so much.”
The pull, the tension, it was weighing on you now. He was close to you again, only a few feet away and you shouldn’t have, but all you could think about is how he might reciprocate if you stepped closer. If you dared to reach out a hand. Maybe he wouldn’t mind that much either. You certainly wouldn't.
It was a huge effort to keep back everything you wanted to say. You had so many questions, so many impulses, but it was all halted when the door opened again and unfortunately it’s your sister in law.
You could tell your brother had gotten to her. She was upset.
She screamed for you when she spotted you. Frantenizing with the enemy. “Get in here now!”
One final look. That was all you got as you scurried over to your sister, stepping past the boy and leaving behind all that had been revealed to you. All that was left to be shared with the stranger. It hurt to turn away. You might have found the only person in this small town who truly understood you, but of course your family had to get in the way. You knew you were dead when you got home.
You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your skull as you reached the door, your sister in law disappearing swiftly before you could enter. That was when he called your name, stopping you like a fly in a sticky trap.
You turned back to him, sneaking a glance you hadn’t thought you’d be able to take and watching as he tasted the word, rolling it around his tongue like it’s something to cherish.
“Yes?” you mustered, heart wild within its cavern in your chest. What once was an empty expanse was now full of meaning.
He walked through the gravel towards you, his button up blowing in the light breeze behind him.
“Arvin Russell.” he pointed to himself.
The notion brought a slight smile to your face. You were glad to finally have a name for his beautiful face. It was just too bad nothing could amount from the knowledge.
“Goodbye Arvin.” and with so much more to say, you slid in the church doors and retreated to your brother who gave you a look of disappointment. You hoped your inevitable punishment later on wouldn’t be too unbearable.
“See you around,” he muttered. It meant something different for the two of you.
Arvin's family still looked in shambles when they left, Emma did anyway, as he ushered them out. They didn’t even get a chance to eat, poor Grandma was too embarrassed to stay once Arvin returned. He felt his fury rush back to him as Emma started to cry in the passenger's seat of his car. No one else was around as every other church-goer was busy becoming enamored by the new Preacher. Arvin thought he was pure evil.
“Now, don't you worry about that pus-gutted blowhard. I bet he ain't got two nickels to rub together.” he tried his best to comfort her.
“I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life. I could've crawled right under the table.”
“All right, l'm gonna go talk to him.” Arvin stated, ready to charge back in.
Arvin wanted to beat the shit out of the Reverend, but even more, he wanted another moment near you. The few words you shared just weren’t enough, not when he had such an inclination that you were meant to be something more than mere acquaintances.
"No, Arvin. None of that. He sure ain't the preacher I was hoping for."
Sighing, Arvin settled into his driver’s side and started the engine. But he felt sure of one thing. He would see you again.
"Grandma, that ain't no preacher. He's as bad as they got on the damn radio. Heck, I bet he just wanted them chicken livers all for his own self. That's why he did that. You see the way he was gobbling them down?"
"You shouldn't talk like that, Arvin." Lenora scolded from the back. She, unlike her family, was quite impressed with the reverend, tickled when he addressed her during their initial meeting, though Arvin had been too caught up with other matters to notice. “Preacher Teagardin wouldn't be here if the Lord hadn't sent him."
Arvin backed out of the lot, driving back to their home as you crossed his mind again. He couldn't stop thinking about you, and now that he knew your name, how was it to ever leave his mind?
"I just feel bad for that girl that was with him,” Grandma shook her head. “She really shouldn't of run out like that.”
Arvin could’ve chuckled at the mention of her.
“She'll be alright.” he assured her, though he wasn’t exactly sure of that himself. He’d know by the next day if he didn’t see her around town.
“She’s your age right? You outta make friends with her, Lenora. She looked awfully lonely.” suggested Emma.
For the wrong reasons, Lenora liked the idea. Getting closer to someone who was so closely related to the Reverend. She couldn't explain it, but she felt God when he saw him, felt her mother. She felt so much like her, destined to fall for a man of God, one who would ultimately be her death.
synopsis: in which y/n is forced move to West Virginia with her brother and in the process, finds a boy who might just make everything alright ... eventually
heyyyy 😗😗 you should totally write more for arvin russell. i really love ur writing style, n would love to see more esp a part 2 to "Family Line"!! I really love the potential this has even tho the movie was forever ago..OKAY but this is gonna sound super weird but i would totes send/pay a commission for this story!! like rlly🤗🤗PLSSSS dm me if ur interested i swear I'm not a bot just a tumblr noob😭😭
Heyyy!!! So sorry this has taken so long to respond to. You are so sweet!
I've been planning on finishing Family Line for months now and it just hasn't been happening, but the best way to get things done is to full send. Right? So that's what I've decided to do.
Starting next week, I'm going to be posting a chapter a week to the new and improved Family Line. I absolutely love Arvin and I can't wait to show you what I've cooked up. A rewritten chapter one will be out this Friday 6/6! Look out for the series masterlist that I'll be posting later today.
As for commission, I'm not sure what I'm comfortable with as far as receiving pay for writing fanfic. I know this is an ongoing debate since so many people profit off of fan-art, but I don't think I can accept commission to write specific fic. I don't know, I can't decide right now. Feel free to message me if you want to talk about it more! That's so kind of you to offer so thank you for that. Made my week
Anyway, I'm super excited to finally finish this story and for everyone waiting on other requests, I'm still working on those as well!
synopsis: in which your sudden, unwilling participation on Gryffindor’s quidditch team leads to a connection you didn’t know you needed with the only person you never expected to fall for
warnings: umbridge being umbridge, r is female and gryffindor, unjustified hatred, slight anger issues, cringey dracotok pickup line (please tell me someone will understand), slightly suggestive at the end
word count: 8.1k
masterlist
a/n: This is my contribution to the fandom in hopes that there will be another fic boom, I miss my ginger boyfriend. Consider it the first of many as I have literally thousands of WIPS for him, I just never finish them. I also read in the official Quidditch manual that boys are often preferred over girls for the Beater position due to their 'strength' and I think that's just another stupid example of smelly Rowling's disgusting gender ideology so this is sort of a response to that... Here you go Fred army, be fed!
When Hermione had worn you down enough to finally agree to attend that morning’s quidditch match with her, never in your most unprompted fantasies would you have guessed how horribly it was destined to end.
It wasn’t worth her satisfaction nor the high mark on your upcoming potions paper that she promised to help you with. But you’d agreed, defenseless against her constant harping until you couldn't take it anymore. You figured there’d be no harm, only unfathomable boredom. Merlin had you been wrong.
You were reluctant to go for many reasons. Even if the overstimulation of the roaring Gryffindor crowd alone wasn’t enough to deter you, as a skilled flyer yourself, you didn’t find any of the plays in the slightest bit remarkable. There was no move performed in a simple Hogwarts game that you couldn’t conquer on a slow, windy Tuesday at your house. However, you commiserated with Hermione’s wishes of supporting your mutual friend, Ron, in one of his first games on the team as the boy bore the habit of unbearable nerves.
You’d known Ron and his family for longer than you had even studied at Hogwarts as many warm summers at the Burrow supported your deeply founded friendship. The Weasley’s home was always buzzing with life, much preferable over your own lonesome home where your parents, busy Muggles, worked day and night. There was just one notorious foil in your perfect paradise and his name was Fred Weasley.
It didn’t matter the length of your relationship with the Weasleys, the twin never showed any promise of getting along with you. Perhaps if he possessed more qualities that likened him to George, who possessed the capacity for occasional compassion and some level of benevolence, there may be more common ground to trod on. But he wasn’t, Fred was conniving, cruel, and always conspiring on how he could milk more galleons out of the Hogwarts student body. Sure, some of his inventions could be considered useful (like the delightful daydreams charms that you had enjoyed more times than you were willing to admit), but most proved to be a money making scam in your opinion. And after more than a decade of knowing Fred, you had found nothing in the slightest bit redeemable about him. You had been victim to too many of his pranks as a child.
And you hated him for it.
By no means was this your first quidditch game, but it was your first attendance in a long while especially considering the absence of games the year before due to the failed Triwizard Tournament.
With all the action on the field, it was difficult to focus on one player. You tried to watch only Ron, but your wandering eyes couldn’t resist the action around the tall hoops he was guarding, moving with the Quaffle from robes of scarlet to emerald and back again. Then there were the Beaters who’s sharp blows could be heard roaring from each side of the pitch. They swooped in and out of the mass of brooms that guarded the main ball, protecting their own colors and striking the opposite.
You were so transfixed by them, like an avian dance, you didn’t realize you were only following Fred for several minutes until Hermione broke you out of your trance. She pointed towards the Slytherin crowd, mumbling about a chant that had broken out in the stands with the most atrocious lyrics all attacking poor Ron.
The tension came to a head when Harry at last found the Snitch, narrowly avoiding a Bludger to win the game, but the song only gained volume and intensity. You were dragged by Hermione out of your seat to console your friend, chasing after her as she flew through the stairwell to the center of the pitch. Neither of you made it in time to hear what Malfoy, no doubt the leader of the chorus, was spewing to Ron. It wasn’t just him anymore as Harry and the twins were in the midst of the scene.
You couldn’t hear anything the boastful blonde said, but you knew very well after four years sharing a castle with him that Malfoy never gave up the opportunity to make your lives miserable. So as George’s fist suddenly collided with his pale sneering grin soon joined by brutal hits from Harry, you could only assume it was a strike well deserved. In all honesty, no amount of violence was enough compensation for the suffering he had caused you and your friends.
You noticed Fred wasn’t far behind, only missing the action by force as it took restraining by all three Gryffindor Chasers to keep him out of the fight. Even then he was making gains on the turf, inching forward with his hands set on strangulation.
You wished it had only been Madam Hooch and McGonagall to break up the fight. At least they would’ve been fair, perhaps a brief suspension and a week of detention. But of course, enabled by the misguided authority of the Ministry, Umbridge inserted herself into the matter.
That’s how you ended up on a bench outside her office, nestled between Ron and Hermione as you waited for the final verdict of how the involved should be punished. Hermione had offered to walk you back to the tower, but you insisted on staying for support. Frankly, your curiosity overpowered your desire to leave and you figured Hermione would appreciate having someone other than the boy she was mad for, not that she’d ever admit it.
“And that’s when Malfoy started talking absolute filth, saying rubbish about my parents and Harry’s mum. So they pounced on him, Harry and George. Only way to shut him up really,” Ron wrapped up his explanation of the event, filling in key context where it was missing. “I reckon they’re getting the whole team suspended. That Umbridge doesn’t give a damn about quidditch. It already took us ages to register.”
“Let’s hope all they get is detention.” replied Hermione.
“I don’t see what she had against Gryffindor anyway. Other than Harry, of course, but why should our whole team have to suffer?”
“You do know she was a Slytherin, right?” you informed.
Ron only gave a low moan, shocked, but not at all surprised. He believed more than anyone that all evil is born in Slytherin house and Umbridge was more evil than most billionaires. There was no telling as to what punishments her sadistic mind could come up with. You were left only to speculate.
Many minutes ticked by before the grotesquely pink door that guarded Umbridge’s equally intense office creaked open, spitting out Harry, Angelina, McGonagall, and the twins. By the melancholic look on each of their faces, you could tell Umbridge decided on the worst possible scenario.
Before any of you could ask for an explanation, McGonagall rushed ahead of her students and much to your surprise as well as your dismay, she turned directly towards you.
“Am I correct in assuming you have a broom and ample flying experience?”
You froze out of utter confusion, unsure of why the Head of your house suddenly cared about your flying skills after three of her most valuable players were likely up for expulsion.
“Come on,” she chided, scolding you by your last name. “I haven’t all evening.”
“Uhh yes, Professor,” you sputtered. “but I don’t-”
“Good.”
There wasn’t any time for inquiry as the infamous Dolores Umbridge slithered from her office not a moment later, her plump face complimented by her signature smug grin. She exuded an air of satisfaction as if pleased by her decision and much to your horror, she looked directly at you.
“Congratulations on your new role, my dear. I do hope you’ll be prepared for next week,” she smirked wickedly, providing absolutely no context. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to find Kirke. Let’s hope he’ll be an adequate replacement.” though by the insincerity in her tone you could tell she was in fact against whatever she had claimed.
You felt your breath again return to you as she sauntered off, disappearing into the next corridor.
“What’s she on about?” Ron asked what all of you were wondering once he was sure the woman was long gone.
“Well,” Harry began, unsteady as he met your anxious gaze. “There’s been a certain adjustment… to the team.”
“What kind of adjustment?” Hermione repeated.
It was George who spoke now, each word dashing from him in a frustrated explanation.
“That bloody woman banned us from flying the rest of the season! Locked up our brooms and everything.” George complained.
“Actually, she banned us from flying for life and gave us a week detention, but yes. That is the general gist of it.” corrected Fred who was actively concealing his own anger much better than his twin.
“And since we had to register each player with that old hag,” Angelina rolled her eyes as she gestured towards Umbridge's office. “we don’t have a reserve team to pull new players from.”
“Who’s in then?” Ron asked.
His question was met with silence and it didn’t take you long to notice why. Heart beating wildly within its cavern in your chest, you realized in horror as each person who had been forced to meet with Umbridge, Angelina, the twins, and even McGonagall.
“Why are you all staring at me?” you asked.
But it was obvious. Deep down you already knew. You shook your head before anyone could answer you, denying your fate as if it hadn’t already been written for you.
“No!” you cried as your professor stepped forth to lay a hand against your shoulder. “I can’t play!”
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, dear,” she informed you with a lament. “Umbridge threatened to suspend the whole team if we couldn’t name anyone. And I’m told you're the best flyer left in Gryffindor.”
“What about Ginny? She’s much faster than I am.” you suggested, though you had a sinking suspicion it wouldn’t matter.
“Ginny will be taking Mr. Potter’s place as Seeker.”
You’ll be replacing Fred.” interjected Angelina and of all the news you’d been told in the last five minutes, her statement alone had to be the worst of it.
In place of a response, your eyes widened and you had to focus in order to keep your jaw closed. Gryffindor giving away the cup altogether was a preferable alternative to relying on you as Beater, though both would have the same consequences.
“I’m aware of your lack of expertise in the position you’ve been assigned,” McGonagall began, her tone changing to one of comfort. “But I’m afraid you’re the only student in Gryffindor who’s close to qualified for playing in our match next week. That is if you’re truly as talented as Mr. Weasley had implied…”
Of course. You should’ve known it was Fred who dragged you into this mess. You searched behind your professor to shoot him a confused glare, one that he dodged. Despite her attempt at consolation, no comfort could slow you’re spiraling as the words drifted out of your scurried mind and into the world.
“But what if I can’t? I’ve never even held a bat! And I’ve never played with a real team, only in scrimmages.”
”Fred’s agreed to help you adjust before you start with the team,” answered Angelina, elbowing the twin as she spoke. “I'm sure you’ll be just fine once you get the hang of it. At least I hope so.”
“But-“
“I’m sorry, but we can’t debate this unless you want to go up against that awful woman,” McGonagall nodded towards Umbridge’s foul pink door. ”It’s been decided. Now if you excuse us, Ms. Johnson and I need to find poor Mr. Kirke before Umbridge can break the news to him.”
Then they were off, hurrying away in the direction Umbridge had gone in only moments before, Angelina only pausing to shout at you over her shoulder. “Training on the pitch, ten o’clock tonight. Be there.” And then she was gone.
Fred stepped forward as you turned back to the group, red from what you could only assume was guilt. Not for what he was putting you through, but most certainly because he got called out for it.
“I-”
“Don’t.” you snarled before he could spew any insincere garbage, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I guess I’ll see you on the field.”
With nothing more to say, you set off for the tower. And no one tried to stop you.
Now with practice, you only had a few hours to chisel down your very real and growing pile of homework before your mandatory training with the only person you wouldn't choose to be around even if you were paid in Honeydukes vouchers. And you knew he felt equal disdain towards you.
Despite assurance from Hermione as she brought you back a plate of supper, you couldn’t accept that everything would work out for the better. You couldn’t even enjoy one of your favorite meals at the Gryffindor table seeing as you were preoccupied with the final draft of your herbology thesis and ridded of any appetite.
“Listen, it’s really not that bad,” Hermione tried, taking your plate after you swallowed the only morsels you could stomach. You supposed the rest would go to Ron being the bottomless pit that he was. “At least it’s with Fred and not someone like Cormac McLaggen.”
“Honestly, I’d take McLaggen,” you argued. “I’d take anyone over Fred.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I absolutely do.”
In lieu of proper wear, you pulled a simple outfit out of your closet, just enough to keep you warm in the night air. You weren’t trying to look impressive.
“Try to remember what the goal is,” suggested Hermione. “You’re doing this for Gryffindor and for Harry and George. Don’t let your feelings prevent that.”
“I’m doing this because of that devil woman ruining our school, Hermione,” you seethed, frustration pouring out of your. “Now I have to deal with him on top of it all.”
“I know,” she empathized. “Trust me, I hate Umbridge as much as everyone else, but you just can’t think of it that way. It’s easier to see it differently.”
“And how am I supposed to see it?” You were flipping through the contents of your trunk now, searching frantically for your favorite jumper.
“You don’t have to admit it, but I know how badly you’ve been wanting a place on the team,” Hermione smiled knowingly. “Ever since 2nd year and now a spot’s been practically gifted to you.”
Without any sort of rebuttal, you turned to face your friend who was holding your jumper out for you. Of course it was out of your trunk.
“He’s gotten better since you guys were younger,” she explained. “Who knows, he might even be nice to you.”
“I really hope you’re right.”
Unsurprisingly, you were forced to wait on the field for several minutes before Fred arrived. Seconds ticked by as you leaned against one of the towering goal posts and fiddled with the splintering tip of your broom. It was a quarter past ten by the time his figure formed through the distant fog and his familiar smirk came into view.
“Sorry I’m late,” he called, hurrying over to you. “Detention ran over, brutal by the way, and I had to find a spare broom since mine is chained up in that old bat's office.”
You looked at the worn broom in his hands, almost sorry that he had to go to all the trouble for a lesson you didn’t see as necessary. No one deserved to suffer under the wrath of that woman, but perhaps if anyone did, you would want it to be Fred.
“Whatever,” you shrugged, unyielding to any empathy that tried to force itself up to the surface. “Let’s just get this over with. You have the stuff?”
“What am I, your Alihotsy dealer?” he chuckled, though you had no amusement to spare for his otherwise pathetic humor.
Your silence washed over Fred like a blanket of bluntness and he immediately grew more serious.
“Angelina said she left a couple paddles and a bludger for us to use over there.” he pointed behind you where as promised, a box was poorly concealed behind one of the thick poles. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed it before, but you watched closely as Fred retrieved it, popping the lock as he dove into explanation.
“From what she told me, Ange wanted me to go over everything, but I’ve seen you play a mean chaser more than once at the Burrow, so I know you already understand the basics.”
He bent down to pick up one of the paddles, twirling it around his fist as it fit comfortably in his perfect grip like the right ring around a finger. His experience was evident in the way swung it, every move precise after years of playing.
“I’m just going to refresh your Beater memory, maybe help you hit a couple since it is a partner position.” he stated, tossing you the other paddle.
You caught it easily, ignoring how unnatural it felt in your own hand before mounting your broom with impatience.
“Yeah yeah, let’s just get on with it so I can go to bed, okay?”
You took off from the turf before Fred could protest, circling above him as you soared to level with the hoop of the highest goal. You couldn’t see it through night and fog, but he shrugged as he released the squirming bludger out from its bindings and hurried to meet you in the air.
Though it sprung on you without warning, you were quick to hit the vicious ball away as you slammed it into what you realized too late was Fred’s direction. Luckily, he dodged the hit with ease.
“Woah, careful,” he chided. “The point is to send it towards the other team, not your partner.”
“I get it, Weasley, just hit it back. Spare me the lecture.” you glared. It was an accident, afterall.
Fred sighed as he waited for the ball to return and struck it his expert way, without the need to look at it. Instead his eyes were focused on you. The Bludger flew upwards and bounded towards you on its descent and while your deflection wasn’t quite as effortless as your companions, it was decent enough to send the thing away. Only for a few seconds.
“Always try to hit with the inside of the paddle,” Fred spoke, jumping into another lecture. “A backswing in the air is too hard, even for the most experienced and especially if it’s a windy game. Instead, try to reorient yourself so you can-”
“I GET IT!” you shouted, fed up with the unsolicited explanations. You were successful at so many other positions in Quidditch, you didn’t think you needed it. You narrowly avoided the next attack as the bludger sped towards you again. It was a miracle that you could lift your paddle in time to slam it away, the force sending a sharp pain through your arm. But it wasn’t enough.
“Woah!” Fred shouted, eyes wide. “Careful, look out!”
You were adjusting to the blow when disaster struck. You couldn’t see it, but it hit all the same as the bludger struck your side with such a force that it knocked you from your broom and sent you spiraling towards the grass far below. You didn’t even have time to scream.
You could faintly make out a shout of your name as Fred flew straight for you, catching you just before you could splatter on the ground like a ripe watermelon. You clung to him instinctually, holding back tears and heavy breaths. You leaped onto the turf the moment he touched down on solid ground sulked away trying to shake off the fall.
From behind you, the snarling ball sank into the grass, dirt flying, and was soon caught by Fred before it could rebound and cause anymore destruction. He held it tightly in the crevice of his toned arm as if it weighed no more than a snitch.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Rendered by some form of speechlessness from the descent, you didn’t respond. Your face was burning hot with frustration that only worsened with every word that left Fred’s mouth. You knew he didn’t care, so why was he pretending to?
“Maybe we should take a break,” Fred suggested, hoping to elicit any kind of a response from you. “Or we can move this to tomorrow? Clearly tonight is not the night.”
“No,” you refused, waiting for your broom to fall and catching it by the handle. “I want this to be over.”
“I know, but maybe we’ll be more productive after some rest.”
“I don’t need rest,” you scowled. “Just need you to tell me what I have to do so I can be done.”
“Hey,” Fred exclaimed. “I’m just trying to help you.”
“Maybe I don’t want your help!” you shouted. “Maybe after years of suffering from your stupid pranks, I don’t think you have the ability to be helpful in ANY capacity and I would much rather you go back to leaving me alone!”
Silence.
It was a rare occurrence in the presence of a Weasley twin, but your harsh words had accomplished it.
You almost felt sorry when Fred turned from you, sure that your outburst had driven him away for good and that he was walking out of the pitch and forever out of your life, but he only made it to the goal posts. He leaned his brom against the center post and quickly secured the Bludger back into the box before making his way to the edge of the pitch where the stands were draped in Gryffindor scarlet and gold. He lifted it, ducking a shoulder under before he turned back to nod you over.
“You coming?”
You hesitated, wondering if you were really welcome after your fit, but after a second of deliberating, you nodded and followed ashamedly. Fred waited for you to set your broom beside his and held up the fabric for you as you dipped inside.
You were bewildered.
You’d never thought of what the underside of the stands looked like, but if you had, you would’ve pictured dusty wood frames and darkness. The setting that lay before you couldn’t be more of the opposite. Nothing short of a scene from one of those old, famous Muggle Hollywood movies you tried to watch whenever you could access a television. Though there indeed stood wooden frames, moonlight coated each block and illuminated the space. You were shown to the center where grass grew to the perfect length despite a lack of trimmings.
The change in your mood was instantaneous and suddenly your frustration melted into tranquility as you started so much calmer than before. As if the very sky soothed your fury.
“I come here a lot during Quidditch season, or I guess I used to.” Fred began, sensing your change in mood as he offered you something much more valuable than a taunting smile or a playing tip. An explanation. He gazed around the space as if it was his first time seeing it too.
“Is it allowed?”
“Probably not, but as you know, rules aren’t often a factor in my decision making. Sometimes I just needed to get away from it all, just for a moment. There's so much bloody noise out there, especially when Wood was captain, being in here blocks out the rubbish. Helps you remember what’s important.”
It was hard to picture Fred as someone who needed a break, who had a breaking point of his own, but under the fabric you could feel it.
“It's perfect for games too,” he grinned, pointing down a line of wood towards where you knew the Gryffindor pathway lay. “The entrance into the field is just over there and no one ever thinks to come under here so it’s nice and private.”
Silent seconds ticked by steadily as you continued to observe the area, spotting a marking on one of the tallest wood beams. You reached out for it, slowly tracing the carving of Fred’s name and a #2, his flying number.
“It’s helping isn't it? Or did I just give away my favorite hiding place for no reason?”
You turned to him, looking him in the eyes for the first time that night.
“No, I feel better now.” you agreed, taking in a steady breath. “I’m sorry about what I said.”
“I only want to help, you know? I swear I’m not trying to talk down to you.”
It hit you then, how all this must’ve impacted him. You knew Fred didn’t want you to replace him anymore than you were willing to and from what you’d see of Harry’s lacerations from lines with Umbridge, you couldn’t imagine punishment was easy for him. But he showed up anyway and was happy enough to help you in any way he could.
“I know,” you agreed. “I’m just so frustrated by this - this whole situation. And I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“It’s alright,” Fred smiled. “I didn’t take it personally. You’ve always done that when you get angry.”
You often forget how long you and Fred have known each other, how many times you’d stayed over at the Burrow, in most cases for weeks at a time. Of course you were only there to visit Ron and Ginny, but it was his home as much as theirs. Years speed by when you're busy hating someone. But you weren’t sure you hated him anymore. And if he had enough heart to show you his secret serenity space, he certainly didn't hate you.
“I bet you even like my pranks sometimes.” Fred smirked.
You rolled your eyes, refusing to admit though you had a feeling he wasn’t asking you to confirm. You were sure he already knew.
“Sometimes I thought you were just being mean. But I don’t think you’re really like that. I just never took the time to understand.”
“I think we’ve been off on the wrong foot all this time,” Fred smiled, as if he hadn’t revealed that he understood you almost as well as you understood yourself. “Maybe it’s time to start the night off fresh?”
“I think I’d be okay with that.” you chuckled, growing fond of this new, reimagined version of the boy you’d always loathed. Clearly you had mistaken him.
“Great well,” he extended his hand. “I’m Fred.”
“Lovely to meet you, Fred,” you felt silly as you met his grip, shaking his hand as you re-introduced yourself.
“I think it’s time to practice some Quidditch.”
“Alright,” you smiled. “I think this time, I’m open to listening.”
“Good,” Fred beamed. “And don’t think I underestimate your skills. I was there when you broke Ginny’s nose with our Quaffle.”
“That was an accident!” you exclaimed, in disbelief that he even remembered the incident from many summers ago during a good old fashioned Weasley match.
“Well, regardless, that’s exactly the energy I want you to harness for beating. As long as you're okay with me giving you some pointers?”
You nodded, crawling under the fabric again and back out into the night to continue your training, the rest of which went fairly smoothly considering you had been set on despising Fred only minutes prior. With every piece of advice, every slightly helpful hint, and especially every encouraging compliment when you were able to learn and adapt quickly, he started to win you over. And you started to see him in a completely new light.
Suddenly, all the annoying characteristics about him became only charismatic. His jokes were no longer cruel and insensitive, but hilarious to the point where you had to cover your mouth to prevent laughing so hard. New traits that you hadn’t bothered to notice before shone through like his familial loyalty and pride. And deep, deep under his surface, you saw a certain kindness in him that you wouldn’t have believed existed days ago.
It was only an hour before the two of you could successfully pass a Bludger back and forth across the entirety of the field, hitting objects in place of players and diving to save them from enemy blows just as you would be required to in a real game. Fred was undoubtedly impressed.
“You’ve still got some Chaser in you, but I think you’re ready to play. That’s all I have anyway.”
He flew to the ground, dismounting smoothly and holding up a hand for you to follow, but you were still adjusting to this new perspective and you didn’t want to head into the castle just yet. More accurately, you didn’t want to walk alone with him.
“I think I’m going to stay out for just a while longer.”
“Sure, right,” Fred chuckled, lowering his hand to scratch the ginger hair on the back of his neck instead. “I don’t think Angelina needed us to do this again, but if you need some extra practice with a decent partner, I'm always available.”
“You sure you can fit me in your schedule with all your detentions and scheming?” you grinned.
“Absolutely,” he laughed. “I doubt Umbridge would miss an evening with me. I don’t make them easy on her.”
“Thanks,” you smiled. “I’ll think about it.”
“Right well, I’m off to bed,” Fred waved, warranting your send off. You shot up into the night, not wanting to stare at him a moment longer. “Just be careful of Filch when you come in!” he shouted up to you, unsure if you had heard as you looked very preoccupied flying about. He grabbed his broom and idly stalked away, sliding off of the field and in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.
Little did he know how your eyes followed his every move as you watched him go, so utterly conflicted and unfocused. In all honesty, you didn’t need to practice any more, in fact, you felt too exhausted to even go through another exercise. But you just couldn’t leave with him, not when you could feel the warmth of attraction blooming in your chest. The world as you knew it was starting to spin the wrong way and all because you discovered Fred Weasley was a decent human being. More than decent really.
The rest of the week prior to your first match was a nervous blur. While classes were the same as always if not more unbearable, your life had been flipped in every possible way. You spent every waking minute on the quidditch field whether it was practicing with the rest of the team (and earning Angelina’s respect when you picked up the sport so quickly) or flying around on your own and trying not to think about Fred.
Oh Fred. He was another problem all on his own. The energy between you shifted so rapidly, it started to become obvious to everyone else. You tried to go on as friends, as if everything was exactly as it was before, but you weren’t fooling anyone. Especially not each other.
You could feel his eyes on you during every meal in the Great Hall, catching his gaze as easily as catching a Quaffle and much more frequently. He started talking to you more, nothing grander than a hello when passing you in busy hallways or snide comment about Umbridge after a rough class with the witch, but it was always pleasant and each time he earned a smile.
You found yourself avoiding him the moment Hermione finally broke her silence on the matter, asking if you two had finally gotten over your years long battle.
“It was always one-sided, you know,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I’ve talked it over with Ginny. He’s never felt the same disdain towards you.”
“Nothing has changed, Hermione. He just helped me with one little thing, that’s all.”
“If you insist…”
All your worrying and hard work made a week feel like only a couple of days. And suddenly, before you could summon the wherewithal to mentally prepare for competing in front of the entirety of Hogwarts, game day was upon you.
Dressed appropriately and grounded on the field, you looked up to the sky as various moving shapes of red and royal blue soared high above before the official commencement that was to take place in minutes. You knew you could do it, all of your training had far prepared you for the task at hand, but you were unbelievably nervous. There was always the chance of messing up and those voices in the back of your mind were impossible to quiet. Not wanting to over exert yourself, the thought of a break popped into your head. Somewhere where no crowd could watch you and you could be on your own for a while.
You noticed the edge of the field, the portion where Fred had taken you under the fabric and just when you were sure many of the spectators were focused elsewhere, you made a run for it.
The space was even calmer in the daylight, bright and airy and utterly empty. Exactly what you needed. You slumped against a wooden beam, reaching up to trace the inscription of Fred’s name, grateful he had revealed this little sanctuary to you.
“Game day nerves?” a voice rang from behind you. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was. Only one person could’ve known where you were.
“A little,” you admitted. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to live up to expectations.”
“It’s not you we have to worry about,” Fred assured. “I’m more anxious to see if Kirke can play. I reckon he’s not half as good as you are.”
“He’s not all bad,” you defended your Beater partner. “But there’s certainly some truth to that.”
“I brought you something,” he smiled and your eyes travelled down to his hands which you realized were clutching something behind his back. “It’s just a little help, if you want it. Thought you could use some confidence.”
You shot him an inquisitive look.
“That's suggestive.” you teased.
“Nothing like that, get your head out of the gutter.”
You watched as he revealed his gift, pulling out a familiar scarlet cloth that shone with promise.
“Here.”
He handed it out to you, an offering you simply couldn’t refuse, purley out of curiosity if nothing else. You plucked the fabric from his hands, letting the cloak unfurl from a wrinkled blob into a magnificent robe, his own Quidditch wear you realized. Last you’d seen them, he had been wearing them proudly while trying to kill Malfoy. You fingered the small embroidered number two on the chest.
“Is this-”
“You bet.”
“You’re giving me your number?”
He shrugged as if it was a small favor rather than a grand gesture. He didn’t need to admit it for you both ro know how much it meant.
“It’s better than 18, innit?” he referred to your current, less than ideal robes. “I’m never going to need them again and I figured they’d fit better than whatever Angelina could scrounge up.”
He was right. The only robes available to you were far too big as they slumped off your shoulders and pooled at your feet. Angelina had claimed that it wouldn't make a difference in the air, but all the extra fabric felt heavy, leaving a burdensome strain. But your Captain had enough stress weighing on her shoulders. So you didn’t make a fuss.
You raised Fred’s robes to your nose, taking in the nostalgic smell of the Burrow, hints of Molly’s baking taking you right back to summers with the family and a new spice that must’ve been Fred’s addition. Cinnamon and firework powder. You refrained from grinning as your nose inadvertently scrunched in delight.
“It’s been washed, I swear.” he promised, worried that your reaction was out of disgust.
“I know,” you acknowledged. “It doesn’t carry any kind of hex though, right? I’m not going to be blown off my broom in midair?”
“Not this time, no. Unfortunately, I care too much about the outcome of this game, but thanks for the idea.”
You rolled your eyes, turning it over to find that his name was still sewn into the back just above his former number.
“This is my favorite addition,” he beamed with excitement, inching closer to adjust your hold as he tipped the fabric into one of the red tinted rays that managed to slip into your hideout. Suddenly, black letters began to form in inky black magic and spelled out your last name atop of the maroon sewed, making it the only readable name.
“It’s a sunny day outside. I thought everyone should get to know who they’re rooting for.”
“Thanks.” you mustered, though it didn’t capture even a fracture of what you were really feeling. So many conflictions fluttered around at once as you fought off your feelings for him before they could invade your mind. It scared you, even more than the impending threat of the game just ahead.
But you could tell he felt it as silence fell upon the two of you. A comfortable understanding of finally being on the same page only now you wanted him closer.
A sharp whistle sounded in the background as Madam Hooch signaled for the game to begin. You didn’t have any more time to spare as you were expected on the field.
“I better let you change, unless you want to go through with your first offer or you’ve become unnaturally attached to those giant things-”
“Get out of here.” you chuckled, pulling on the length of the strings that held up your current attire. Though you had on other clothes, Fred turned as the old robes slipped off you easily, pooling in a pile by your shoes. Stepping out of the mess, you pulled on Fred’s and though it took some adjusting as they were still bigger than your true size, they served as a much preferable alternative to the spares, lighter and exceedingly more breathable.
“They look good,” Fred admired, turning back to face you one last time before you had to leave. “You don’t look like you’re playing dress up anymore.”
“I’ll try to live up to the name.”
“You will. You’ll make your own.” he promised, slipping under the fabric in the direction of the spectator area. “Good luck.” he wished, and then he was gone.
You grabbed your broom and headed for the opposite end, waltzing to where the rest of your team was waiting to make their entrance. Though it took some effort, you were sure to rid your step of its gleeful skip by the time you reached the public eye.
“Looking good, Weasley.” Angelina joked, no doubt already aware of Fred’s surprise. “Nervous?”
“No.” you lied.
“Good.”
“And here I thought I would be the only remaining Weasley on the team.” Ron interjected, stepping up to stand beside you.
“That was presumptuous,” Ginny laughed from behind the two of you, clad in her own Seeker gear.
“You aren’t,” you stated, placing an encouraging hand on your friend’s shoulder. “But you are the only Keeper. So do the best you can.”
Another whistle blared outside in the center of the pitch and soon enough you were up in the air, one hand clinging to your broom and the other wrapped tightly around your bat. It didn’t take long for you to find Fred in the crowd as your eyes searched the stands for him and your other friends. They all sat nestled beside one another, lost in a sea of scarlet. You resisted the urge to wave at him.
Instead you met his gaze and gave him a subtle nod, warmth blooming in your chest again as you swore his smile grew wider. You had to force yourself to snap into focus and avoid looking at the Gryffindor section as other flyers spread out all around, readying themselves for the first play.
“And also new to the team,” your name was stated by Lee Jordan who despite being barred by McGonagall in years prior, was acting commentator. “Though she’s a different number than what Captain Angelina Johnson informed me, don’t be fooled folks. I’m told she’s very good for a newbie. At least I hope that part is the truth.”
Each second felt like a millenium before the game had finally kicked off, you were suddenly much too caught up in the action to give any thought to the stirring feelings inside, batting each Bludger like your teammate’s life depended on it. In some kinda way, it did.
All those hours spent refining your skills were now out for everyone else to see and you were absolutely magnificent. Saving every teammate that required assistance and scoring every Bludger that threatened to disable your Chasers, you swiftly became a crowd favorite and the ultimate replacement for the usual spectacle of the Weasley twins.
“There she goes, a near hit from lucky number 2 against Ravenclaw Chaser - Blimey - and a brilliant save as she dives to protect Chaser Alicia Spinnet! And Spinnet scores a goal!” Lee exclaimed, shouting into his mic. “That’s 10 more points to Gryffindor. She really is good! Maybe even better than the twins - whoops - never mind. I’m getting dirty looks.”
As the game went on, you proved yourself as a worthy opponent time and time again, even stealing saves from the other Beater when he could get to where he was needed in time. Though Kirke was a decent partner as you learned in practice, he wasn’t nearly as experienced as you and much less able to adapt to his new position (you felt you had Fred to thank for that). But it all worked out as you were quick to compensate for all his losses, fast and strong enough to erase all his mistakes before they could cause a problem.
“Looks like new Seeker Ginny Weasley found something, she’s descending into the center. This could be it ladies and gentlemen, the tie breaker and oh no! Looks like Ravenclaw is having a go!”
You watched as it happened, heart sinking as one of the Beaters in blue sent a Bludger straight for Ginny and you didn’t even have time to think before you rushed to save her. You had to dodge several players, weaving between them like wool on a loom as you hurried towards the center with the speed of a Chaser. You soared past Ginny, rearing up to hit the Bludger and sending it spiraling downwards with so much force, it sank into the dirt.
But it wasn’t over yet.
Sneaking towards you like a torpedo, you didn’t have time to listen to the warnings of the crowd or more of Lee Jordan’s before you could sense another Bludger aimed at you. Swinging with all of your might and praying you could sense its position, you successfully backhanded the attack and spared yet another life.
The Gryffindor stands roared with excitement.
“Impossible move by 2! A fully backhanded save. I’ve never seen anything like it, at least not in a school league. And what’s this? Ginny Weasley’s got the snitch! Gryffindor wins and the game is over!”
You landed, exhausted, but beaming with pride as the stands screamed, but when you looked for him, the only person you wanted to see cheering for you, his spot was vacant. Lee spoke over your thoughts.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen her smile since she started playing.” he joked, though it was true.
A sudden applause broke out from behind you as a figure emerged from your special place, his special place. Your smile widened as you met his proud stare, clapping for his brilliant protege. Fred smiled at you and instant warmth returned to you and forced your feet to move and your grasp to release your equipment. You couldn’t stand it any longer. All you knew was how badly you wanted him, so you ran straight into his open arms.
“Woah, where’s she going?” Lee questioned into the mic, not that you could give a Devil’s Snare. You were laser focused. “Has all that flying made her mad? Her team is the other way! I wonder, oh, OH! Well, that explains it. In case you’re wondering who she’s tackling folks, that's ex-Beater Fred Weasley. Or is it George? Nope, definitely Fred. I don’t know what the rules are on kissing on the pitch, but those late night tutoring sessions are starting to make a lot more sense….”
“JORDAN!” McGonagall scolded, tugging at the mic.
“That’s all from me I suppose. Here’s to a new game and a budding romance!”
“I thought she hated him.” Harry leaned to whisper to Hermione as they stood from their seats, making their way down much slower than Fred had. They didn’t have the same kind of motivation.
“She did,” Hermione shrugged, although she had long ago figured that with the right push, the two of you would eventually collide in such a manner. “But things change. She got to know him.”
It felt like hours before you and Fred finally pulled apart, but you hadn’t gotten your fill when the moment finally came. Lips twisting into a bashful smile, your arms clung to his neck while his hands curled around your waist. Dizzy from the rush of the game and having him so close, you found yourself leaning into him. His freckled face flushed as he grinned at you like he had just pulled off the proudest prank of his whole life, finally getting to kiss you.
“I take it you liked the robes?” he smirked.
“I hope that wasn’t too forward,” you uttered, though by the way he pulled you closer, you knew it wasn’t. “I’m really glad we decided to start over.”
“Actually, I’ve sort of been waiting for this,” he admitted. “Been mad for you for ages, you know.”
“I’m starting to understand that.”
Noses brushing, you were set on leaning in again until a throat cleared from beside you as other spectators started to flood onto the turf. Your friends and George had joined your side and much to your chagrin, Umbridge had taken hold of the mic.
“A reminder that girls and boys are not to to be within eight inches of each other!” she shouted, her voice booming inside the pitch as if she had forgotten that it was already amplified.
You reluctantly removed yourself from his grasp, not wanting to get yourself banned from playing though you wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms. He bent to whisper into your ear.
“Lucky for us, I have nin-”
“No,” you cut him off. “I've heard that way too many times since she instilled that rule.”
“Fair enough.” he shrugged, relishing the delighted look plastered on your face as he moved with you to join your loved ones.
It wasn’t until much later during the peak of celebration that you were able to reconnect.
The night had long taken over as the twins threw one of their famous Gryffindor parties in your honor, setting the common room ablaze with drinks and music and a bustling, eager crowd. You bid your time, taking in the praise and celebrating with all of your friends, but as soon as you were sure no one would miss you, Fred managed to smuggle you away into his dormitory where he held you as his willing captive.
He pressed you against one of the sturdy stone walls, lips slotting together behind closed doors where no prying Dolores Umbridge had any chance of forcing you eight inches apart.
“You sure you're okay with missing the party?” you gasped through shallow breaths between kisses, eyes fluttering shut as Fred moved to your jaw.
“Are you serious?” he chuckled. “And miss my one shot with the girl of my dreams? Not a chance.”
“It wouldn’t be your last chance.” you assured him, but you were grateful he wanted to stay. You weren’t anywhere near ready to stop as your fingers twirled into his bright hair. You weren’t sure what you would do if he had never brought up your name as a replacement and you were glad you’d never have to find out.
“And to think last week you hated me,” he muttered, raising his head back to brush his lips against your own, words slipping in between kiss after fervent kiss.
“Shut up, Weasley,” you retorted, melting into him as he obliged, allowing the night to take its pleasant course.
ooo tyler request i had a brain rot😭 id love to see protective tyler maybe reader usually doesn’t go on chases with him because she’s afraid of storms but then the one time she does she panics and tyler’s all sweet and there for her <3
I took forever, but it’s finally done! I hope it’s close to what you pictured! 💜
synopsis: in which tyler takes you on his favorite past time not knowing that it's your biggest fear
warnings: establish relationship, tornadoes (obviously), panic and anxiety, sorta hurt/comfort, I tried
request: ooo tyler request i had a brain rot😭 id love to see protective tyler maybe reader usually doesn’t go on chases with him because she’s afraid of storms but then the one time she does she panics and tyler’s all sweet and there for her <3
word count: 2.1k
masterlist
a/n: I’m so sorry for the wait on this one. School has given me had such bad writer’s block, but I’m starting to get motivation back so here you go! I hope everyone’s having a great weekend!
“Are ya ready?”
Tyler’s voice is a sudden brief break from all the anxious worries running through your head. While there’s no part of you that would ever willingly volunteer to participate in this, you’d never pass up the opportunity to make your favorite cowboy smile. So instead of screaming like someone lodged a knife in your thigh and jumping out of the passenger window, you muster up your sweetest grin and shoot him a nod.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you agree, feigning excitement. If only he knew how tight you were squeezing the hand rail above your window as you gazed out into the open field from the passengers side of his big red truck. The same one he’d picked you up in on your first date and now he was delivering you to what you were sure was certain doom.
When you had first met your boyfriend, you’d commented on how familiar he looked. You theorized he was an average country boy and that perhaps you’d seen him in one of the local rodeos you loved to frequent. But even in the wildest of dreams, you had never imagined falling in love with a storm chaser, especially not with the Tyler Owens. He was inarguably the most popular chaser in decades, exploding on social media as the Tornado Wrangler and now, he was yours forever. And of course as expected, from the moment you two were bound, he relentlessly begged you to join him on a chase.
And therein lay the only crack in your paradise of perfection, the only wrinkle that posed a problem in what otherwise would be a flawless match. You were terrified of tornadoes.
You’ve never explicitly told Tyler about your fear of the extreme weather that he was so drawn to, but after years of turning down every chase he’s ever invited you on (opting to instead watch his live streams or creating another excuse) you figured the message would’ve gotten across. But alas, after a week of wearing you down, he finally got you to join him under very strict conditions: no streaming and no spectators. If you had to suffer through a storm chase, you’d rather do it without the peering eyes of an audience.
Luckily, Tyler was so devoted to you, he was more than happy to comply with your terms. All he wanted was his girl by his side and a grey sky of potential.
Attuned to you after years of being a couple, he could sense your nerves to some extent.
“Hey,” Tyler speaks softly, moving one of his hands, calloused from riding so many stubborn bulls, off the smooth black leather of his steering wheel to gently grip the meat of your left thigh. Instant warmth, that’s what his touch always brought you as comfort cascades through your whole body.
You turn your head to meet his gaze, piercing green eyes peering dotingly into yours.
“Everything’s gonna be just fine,” he promises in that special tone he reserves for moments when he wants his words to reach your ears only. Even now while the rest of his gang is absent he still speaks softly so that you can be sure he means every word. “I’ve done this a million times.”
A sense of tranquility flows through you as his thumb traces soothing patterns on the rough fabric of your jeans. He leans into you, pressing a kiss to the apple on your cheek. Calm before the cyclone.
“I know, I’m okay.” you assure your boyfriend, but as his hands leave you to shift into drive, you start to regret even coming at all. At least there weren’t any cameras to capture your panic. The only thing worse than freaking out was your anxiety being filmed for the rest of the world to see.
Tyler’s truck is slow to leave the grassy lot you had been pulled over in while you waited for any sign of a storm. Part of you prayed that for once, there would be no twisters in Oklahoma. Only for today.
But of course, the tornado capital of the world always had something in store.
“Look baby, see that?”
You follow Tyler’s index finger as he points to a darkening portion of the sky just outside your passenger window. To your absolute horror, the cap is quick to break as a tiny nub starts to form from grey clouds. You freeze in your seat, stifling an uncomfortable groan.
“I see it.” you wince, dreading every part of the road ahead. But all it takes is one look at Tyler’s stupid grin to encourage your silence. You don’t want to be the only thing blocking him from such happiness so against your better judgement, you force a heartless chuckle to mask your fear.
Light rain begins to patter atop the metal roof of his pick-up as Tyler maps out a route to the twister, marveling at it as if it were a brightly colored butterfly and not one of Mother Nature’s most unforgiving natural disasters.
“Looks like a small one so we should only be in a few minutes. She’s a beaut alright.” he smiles, speeding ahead as the nub twists into something you’d only imagine facing in nightmares. A textbook tornado and you’re headed straight for it.
Music starts to play as Tyler turns up the radio, a sweet gesture considering it’s the chorus of one of your favorite songs. After buckling up the safety harness, you remain still in your seat, only moving to send Tyler the most insincere of smiles to make sure doesn’t go unrecognized, but your anxiety is getting harder to manage. As soon as his eyes are back on the dirt road, you feel rigid against the cool leather as the bumpy road shields your light trembling and you start to regret ever coming along.
Your fear is a whole storm of its own, worse than the wind picking up outside your window. You feel it swirl and grow until it’s entirely unmanageable and you’re gripping the handle above the door so hard that you’re sure you’re about to rip it off as you reach your final destination.
Tyler’s pickup shakes wildly as you enter the center of the cyclone. He parks you just beneath it, whooping and hollering like a mad man. Under ordinary circumstances, you find his happiness quite contagious as it’s one of the traits you love most about him. But here, in the eye of the storm, you can’t even bear to look at him as you question whether the sensation is worse with your eyes closed. You quickly discover that it is.
“Isn’t this amazing?!” Tyler shouts with glee, finally looking over to you for your reaction, though you can't summon a fake smile this time as your breathing rapidly and tears brim in your eyes. “Babe?” he questions, the satisfaction becoming quickly replaced with concern.
“I’m fine,” you lie through a shaky breath, but he’s been yours so long now, he can’t be fooled.
Panic joins the blood rushing through your veins as the panic sets in and suddenly you’re gulping in the air like it's the last time you’ll ever be able to breathe it, trying to find a way to escape from the storm despite its impossibility. You can’t accept waiting it out anymore, not when your heart rate has elevated to levels that you feel like you shouldn’t be able to survive.
Tyler unbuckles his harness, jumping into action as the hero he is, through and through.
“Oh my god,” he utters your name, moving into your orbit as the truck starts to rock. Side to side like a carnival ride, but you’re too overwhelmed to enjoy it. But it’s your own fault for agreeing knowing you couldn’t handle such conditions.
“I’m sorry,” you gasp through hyperventilations. “I-I’m so scared.”
“Baby,” Tyler raises his voice to focus your attention, careful not to crowd you as places a grounding hand on your thigh. “Baby, look at me.”
You do as he says, desperate for any relief from the doom you’ve been encased in.
“Listen,” he meets your eyes with compassion. “This is just a small twister. She won’t last much longer, but it's not safe to drive until it is over. I want you to count with me and I promise, by the time we get to ten, she’ll be gone. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”
“Okay,” you nod as he offers his other hand out, only if you need it as he is more than prepared for rejection. But you do as having something warm to hold is exactly what you need. You squeeze him tightly to relieve some of the panic and try to focus on his voice.
“Ready?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for you to agree. He doesn’t need to.
You start to count with him, as a team. The way in which you find it’s best to approach everything you struggle to face alone.
“One, two…”
Like magic, you feel the rough shakes of his pick-up slow to a weak wobble as the deep gray of the clouds around you thins as the clouds start to secede.
“Three, four, five…”
Like the unwinding of a ball of yarn, the clouds separate a rise back into the sky. Long strands of tall grass become suddenly visible as open land around you comes back into view and the truck finally stills.
“Six, seven, eight, nine.”
At once, the clouds retreat into the sky and dissolve into nonthreatening, normal white furries as peace is restored. It’s wondrous how the world is left undisturbed as the twisters leave no evidence that it was ever there at all.
“Ten.”
You feel the panic dissociate throughout your body, leaving just as the tornado did only moments before. Only your unsteady breathing remains as you try to shift back into equilibrium. You nod as Tyler asks if you’re okay, knowing that as long as you never agree to go storm chasing again, you’ll be just fine.
“I’m so sorry, babe,” he starts, guilt ridden. “I should’ve known. I should’ve never forced you into this.”
“No, it’s okay,” you assure him. “Really Ty, I should’ve told you the truth.”
“You know you never owe me an explanation,” he lifts the hand at your thigh to tuck away some of your disheveled strands of hair. “But can I ask what triggered that response?”
You shrug, trying to remember what made you so afraid in the first place.
“I really don’t know,” you admit. “Long as I’ve lived here, tornadoes have freaked me out and until you I’ve never had to face them. I wasn’t sure what would happen, but I really should’ve come clean about it.”
“I’m sorry.” he tries again.
You catch Tyler looking down ashamedly, upset that he put you in such a bad situation, but you catch his face before it can become too crestfallen and summon up a real smile. One of comfort and earnest regard. You can feel his regret almost as strongly as he can, but it’s misplaced. He has no need to feel ashamed of his passions.
“Hey, Tyler,” you utter his name softly, though it’s enough to command his attention again. “Just because I can’t handle tornados doesn’t mean I don’t love what you do.”
“Really?” he questions, instantly perking up.
“Oh totally. I love watching you go out and love what you do with so much of your heart. And you help so many people everyday, even people who will never face this stuff. All just by being you. And I’m glad I got to experience this with the person I feel safest with.”
“Thanks baby,” he grins, planting a kiss on your forehead. One that you lean into with a giggle.
“Just never make me do this again,” you assert. “Like seriously, I love watching you through your lives, but I can’t do the real thing.”
“Yes ma’am,” he nods as he rebuckles, starting the drive back to your house as he returns to the main road. “Sounds fair enough.”
“You hungry? We could go get some diner food when we return to civilization.” he offers once you’re well on your way.
“I could eat. On you of course.” you tease, though Tyler always paid no matter the occasion. Only when you fought tooth and nail would he let you take the bill.
“I can’t imagine any alternative.” he laughs, his hand sliding over to grip your thigh once more as the two of you head in the direction of the sun.
