Do you guys also suddenly get like three new personalities, two new dream jobs and several mental breakdowns after binging a TV show or are you normal??
i don't really want to weight in on the "using big words in your writing is ableist" discourse happening on tiktok because i'm like 90% certain it's an anti-intellectual psyop to stir up drama in online circles to promote the use of ai to summarize literally everything and thus feeding the LLMs and lowering the populace's mistrust of such tools but i also have to say: dictionaries and thesauruses are the most accessible they've ever been. if you use an e-reader of any kind you can look up a word without leaving the page. there's a plethora of online dictionaries and if you just type a word + "meaning" into google it'll usually give you a definition. we used to have pocket dictionaries we used when reading in class. i have two on my shelf right now that i used in high school. stop letting the fascists purposefully misuse anti-ableism rhetoric to trick you into never thinking again.
It was a huge milestone of scientific and technological advancement. (Plus, at the time, politically significant). Humanity went to space! We set foot on a celestial body that was not earth for the first time in human history! Thatâs a big deal! Iâve never thought about it before but now that I have, itâs ridiculous to me that thatâs not part of our everyday lives and the public consciousness anymore. Why donât we have a public holiday and a family barbecue about it. Why have I never seen the original broadcast of the moon landing? It should be all over the news every year!
Itâs July 20th. Thatâs the day of the moon landing. Next year is going to be the 54th anniversary. Iâm ordering astronaut shaped cookie cutters on Etsy and Iâm going to have a goddamn potluck. Youâre all invited.
PITCH: We call it Moon Day, and then every 7 years when it falls on a Monday, that's an even BIGGER deal and we call that Moon Day Monday and go absolutely apeshit about it (the next Moon Day Monday is in 2026 so we have a couple trial runs first)
queer themes in x-men my beloved. Angel binding his wings. Bobbyâs parents asking if heâs tried just not being a mutant. Nightcrawler and catholic guilt. The existence of cherik. Everything with Scott/Jean/Logan. Mystique and Destiny.
we've had 3 episodes thus far of this new season and one thing we have for sure got is that Perseus Jackson DOES NOT PLAY about Annabeth Chase's safety
if we are getting this
in season 2 i can't wait for TLO when we finally get the famous acclaimed "No one touches her!" scene
lula may showed up halfway through the movie covered in old lady prosthetics. proceeded to put on the performance of a lifetime and save those dumbasses from prison. then went on to simply exude peak bisexual swag for the rest of the movie. god ive missed her.
summary: the only thing on clark's mind when he's poisoned with kryptonite is coming home to youâthe wife who's a closely kept secretâto feel the warmth of your reassurance.
tags & cw: nsfw, fem afab reader, clark has a secret wife (it's you hehe), smitten clark, emotionally distraught clark, smut with feelings, shower sex, fluff and angst, unprotected p in v, canon scene rewrite(?)
wc: 8.8k SERIOUSLY IDK HOW TF THIS HAPPENS LIKE WHAT AM I EVEN TALKING ABOUT WHAT
a/n: PLEASE READ!! This fic was heavily inspired by this oneshot by the lovely @finelinevogue so please go check out their work as well! I also drew inspo from Clint Barton in Age of Ultron. ALSO given the new deleted footage we got today this feels just...ugh.
I hope you enjoy! Likes, reblogs, and comments highly appreciated :)
want some more clark content? Check out my clark masterlist!
You were the only thing on his mind. Lingering just in front of the grief and shock of his last few days was the thought of you. Your voice, your warm skin and equally warm smile, holding him close and telling him everything would be alright, that this was okay. That you would still be there.Â
As he fought to breathe through the poison in his lungs and the pain blurring the lines of his vision, he was thinking of you with exceeding desperation.
He had to see you. Hear your voice. Let himself be held by you. Let the radiance of your proximity wash over him, sustaining him better than the sun ever could. He didnât call you sunshine for nothing.
Gosh, it was all he could think, after everything. It was all he could say.
Sunshine. My sunshine. Have to see my sunshine.
Lois was giving him odd looks that he caught whenever he managed to keep his eyes open for longer than thirty seconds. He was well-accustomed to her scrutiny, but the way she was looking at him now gave him the impression that she was far more concerned about her friend than she was journalistically inquisitive. Even so, Clark knew her well enough to know that she was undoubtedly dying to pryâto wedge the shovel of her poison pen beneath his weakened exterior and dig up the history in his pleading eyes.
The fact that she did not question a single thing said a lot about their friendship. Distantly, Clark thought to thank her later with a gift card to Jitters. Maybe a freshly baked platter of cookies that heâd take the credit for but really he owed everything to his Maâs recipe, scribbled in the margins of a small notebook sheâd given him for college.
He would write a little note as though pen and paper could make up for the hell heâd put her through. Sorry you had to save me from a pocket universe, it would read. I promise to try and not have another identity crisis that results in my incarceration and slow, painful torture from which you feel obligated to rescue me from.
Unfortunately, any remuneration would have to wait until he could lift his head without feeling like he was going to nosedive through the floor.
âI think weâre here,â he heard Loisâ voice, steady and even despite everything that sheâd been through in recent hours.
Hours. Had it already been hours? Time passed funny when you were wading in and out of consciousness.
âSunshine,â he was mumbling before he could stop himself. âM-my sunshineââ
Thankfully, he had enough of his wits about him to not say your actual name, at least not until the T-Craft had landed safely on the edge of the Kentsâ forty-some acres of farmland. Who knew what kind of bugs Mr. Terrific had in his aircraft. And no oneânot even the members of the Justice Gangâknew about you. Of course, Lois was surely about to find out, but the ramifications of that were the furthest thing from his mind.
My sunshine. I need to see you. Iâm coming home. I think Iâm almost home.
âYes, weâre here, Clark.â Darn it, he mustâve said all that out loud. âYou gotta help me, okay?â
Yes, he sighed, and his lungs burned in protest. Internally or externally he could hardly discern. Please. I need to see her.
Krypto was prancing in anxious circles the moment the aircraft touched the ground. A violent shiver wracked Clarkâs body when Lois appeared at his side, struggling to curl his arm over her shoulder and hoist him out of the comparatively small seat. His hulking size didnât help matters, though Clark did everything in his limited power to help her.
Unfortunately, most of his brain was preoccupied with finding you. Seeing you. Hearing you. Feeling you.
My sunshine.
Golly, his head was spinning.
âCâmon, big guy,â Lois strained with the effort of lifting him. He felt horrible. Guilt-ridden and ashamed that she had to see him like this, broken and battered. He worried about his parentsâ reaction, too; because of course heâd inherited his obsessive level of worry from them.
Everything about everything was justâŠawful.
Please, oh please. My sunshine. I need you to make it better.
The stairs of the T-Craft whirred mechanically as they unfurled. Together they trudged down the stairs and into the misty midwestern night. Clark had no idea what time it was, but sincerely hoped it wasnât too late. His Ma and Pa needed their rest. He shouldnât be disturbing them like this, least of all after what theyâd just learned. For Peteâs sake, he shouldnât even be showing his faceâ
His parents were in front of him, worried expressions drawn tight across their faces. And the guilt was quickly replaced with relief at the familiarity of their warm eyes.Â
Family. Home.Â
âIâm Martha, this is John,â Ma explained as Pa stepped forward to help Lois.
âLois,â she greeted as Krypto loped across the dewy lawn.
âOh, goodness gracious. What on earth happened?â Ma was frantic, eyes scanning his disheveled body as the four of them trudged slowly to the ranch.
âVery long story,â he heard Lois mumble. âHeâsâŠitâs from Kryptonite,â she offered as Ma urgently scanned his tattered face. Her own face fell at Loisâ words.
Perhaps a little selfishly, Clark was still mostly distracted by his thoughts of your proximity and how close he was to being in your arms. Your shared residence was about a two hour drive West of Smallville, which was a hell of a lot closer than he usually was to you in Metropolis.Â
If he were in better shape, he could find you by your heartbeat. Heâd done it so many times, it was like breathing. But breathing right now was a grueling effort, and his senses were depleted. He wasnât himself, in more ways than solely physical. Simply put, Clark didnât know who he was anymore.
But you did.
You carried a piece of him with you, always. Perhaps without realizing. You cherished every part of him in ways heâd never understand, and right now he needed more than anything to have you remind him of who he was. To the world as Superman, but more importantly, to you as Clark Kent.
He mustâve been babbling again, because his Ma was hushing him in the same tone sheâd used when he would cry as a boy. âYouâre alright, son. Itâs okay. Sheâs on her way, cominâ as fast as she can.â
Sheâs on her way.
The relief punched through his body harder than the Kryptonite had.
He didnât remember being ushered up the front porch, down the hallway of his childhood where he struggled to fit in. Now, in more ways than one. The pictures that lined the walls felt mocking; representative of a life he thought heâd known. A weight he thought he knew how to carry.
Pa and Lois helped him onto his bed, which was uncomfortably small. Even as a sprouting teenager, the twin XL did little to contain his abnormally large frame. As a grown adult, his feet hung awkwardly over the end of the bed, calves digging into the footboard.
Clark hardly knew what was spewing from his mouthâgarbled sounds, distressed huffs. A few incoherent words, distraught pleas to his Ma and Pa about the ugly truth of his heritage, as tears seared down the sides of his sweaty face. But once again, you were always right there, lingering just beneath the surface of his pool of sorrow.
Sunshine. Sunshine. Sunshine.
It was too dark without you.
âSheâs on her way, sweetheart,â Ma spoke, and nonsensical as he was, he could still hear the pain bleeding into her voice at the sight of her son, so obviously wounded beyond what the eye could see. Pa was on his other side. He could feel a hand, calloused as his own, resting gently on his shoulder.
âWho is she?â it was Lois, somewhere across the room. Curious, as always, but careful.
Pa says your name. Even hearing it is like feeling the sun caress the cockles of his heart. âOur other Mrs. Kent,â he adds.
There was a pause. Then, the single, incredulous âoh,â from his colleague.
âSh-sheâs almost here?â Clark hears himself ask Ma, because he canât help it.
âYes, Clark,â Ma says, her fingers in his hair. He doesnât know how much longer he can stay awake.
âI had no idea that he wasâŠâ Lois trails off, sounding slightly mesmerized.
âNobody does,â Pa supplied. âAnd weâd sure like to keep it that way, hm?â Paâs voice was threatening in the way that calm lingered before a storm. Most often, the cell would pass with nothing but the threatâthe smell of rain, a warning of downpour. But the threat, the promise, was there.
âOf course. I would never say anything,â Lois responds. She sounds sincere. Lois Lane is sharp and cunning and full of more spitfire than the Kaiju heâd fought, but she is always sincere.
âMa,â Clark could feel himself fading. âMa. I need her. Please, I n-nââ
âI know, Clark. I know. You just relax. Youâll be alright. If you can't wait up for her tonight, youâll see her in the morninâ, okay?â
Heâd been about to protest when he felt it. Felt you. Even with muted senses, there was no denying the slam of the screen door. The spike in his hearing, reaching out to listen for your breath. He felt his body lift slightly off the bed, only to be gently pushed back down by his parents.
Sunshine?
He calls for you. Your real name, this time.
âClark?!â
Your panicked voice makes his stomach twist.
No, donât hurt, sunshine. Please, itâs alright.
You burst into the room and the entire atmosphere shifts. Pa gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Ma loops her arm through Loisâ, whose eyes had immediately locked onto yours. Everyone vacates the room quickly and quietly; even Lois goes with nothing more than a questioning look, though Clark knows he owes her an explanation in the near future.
Meanwhile, you havenât torn your eyes from him.
âOh god, oh god,â your face twists in misery at the sight of him. And although he hates to see you hurtingâespeciallybecause of himâthe selfish bits of his soul canât help but feel relieved. He feels it in every bone in his body, the way you lift the burden of his sorrows simply by existing in the same space, pouring your light onto him without even trying.
Between the two of you, you had always been the stronger one. Heâs not afraid to admit that.
Despite his bodyâs protests, his shaking arms encircle you the moment youâre within reach. His nose burrows into the junction of your neck and shoulder, and he doesnât even care that heâs crying anymore. Can no longer hear the sound of his own warbled voice above the pounding tempo of your heart.
âClark,â you breathe, voice low and trembling.
âMy sunshine,â he stammers. âYouâre here.â
âOf course I am, baby,â you say as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. He shakes beneath you. Youâre real and warm and smell like home. He can no longer discern why heâs cryingâphysical pain? Emotional turmoil? His parentsâ message? Or is it nothing more than the relief of feeling you?
âOh Clark.â Like him, youâre shuddering. âYouâŠthey told meâŠare youââ you start and suddenly stop when his muscles spasm with phantom pain. He doesnât mean for you to see, but close as you are thereâs no hiding the way his body shakes like itâs just now remembering the poison in his blood.
The usual firmness in his embrace is lacking and he knows it. You know it.
âOkay, okay. Just relax,â you say next, and your voice shifts like day to night, slow and seamless. Itâs remarkable how easily youâve slipped into the tone he needsâsoothing, calm. Simply present. Your palm splays at the top of his head before combing through his messy curls with the kind of tenderness that makes him think youâve forgotten that heâs indestructible.
Well, maybe not entirely.
âIâve got you, Clark.â
His jaw quivers against your skin. âD-didâŠyou see theâŠthe videoââ
âThat doesnât matter right now. Just breathe, rest.â
âIâm so sorry, Iââ
âItâs okay.â
âTha-thatâs not me. I would never hurt anybodyâ please, Iââ
âClark,â he feels a kiss pressed to the crown of his head. When you pull back to look at him, thereâs a desperation in your eyes that heâs helpless to ignore. âI know that. Right now you have to focus on healing, okay? Youâre very hurt.â
âMâfine,â he tries. A last-ditch effort to abate the deepening concern in your eyes.
âRight. And Iâm Batman.â
âMâjusâ a little banged upâŠâ
âItâs Kryptonite poisoning, Clark. Thatâs more than a little banged up.â Youâre examining him, he realizes. Cupping his cheek and tracing the lines of his face, neck, and shoulders with your worried eyes. Gosh, he canât stand it. Canât stand to see you fretting over him. Even if it secretly means the world, even if all he wants is the reassurance that someone still sees him for him in spite of the worldâs shifting view. But he doesnât want you to suffer for it.
He tries to speak, but his voice catches like sandpaper against his dry throat. The sound is mangled, rough. It pinches your brows together and youâre cradling his face now. Horrifically, he sees your eyes turn glassy. He moves his shaking hand to rest over yours.
âOh god, Clark. You couldâŠyou couldâve diedââ
His heart clenches again.
Itâs okay.
Iâm okay.
Donât worry.
All that comes out instead is a disoriented whine.
âDonât go.â he finally manages instead of the comforting words heâd wanted to give you. âPlease. Donât go.â
âIâm not going anywhere,â you say with as much finality as you can muster. But then you try to move like youâre leaving, like youâre lying, and he canât have that.
âStay,â he slurs, and uses what little strength he has left to ensnare you in his hold.
You grumble in protest. âI am. Thereâs just not enough room for both of us.â Youâre right, but he doesnât care.
âStay,â he repeats, and thatâs all it takes. Maybe youâre equally as helpless in denying him as he is in denying you. Maybe you both care a little too deeply and thatâs part of why he canât let you go and why he knows you wouldnât actually leave this room if your life depended on it.
You clamber awkwardly onto the bed, and it squeaks as you give your best attempt to get comfortable in the tiny rectangle of space that remains after heâs filled almost the entire mattress. You flinch like heâs burned you when he winces as youâre getting settled, and all he can think about is how badly he wants to kiss away the pinch in your brows.
âClark, Iâm going to hurt you,â your eyes threaten to spill over. âI donât want to make it worse. YouâŠplease. You need to heal.â
Unfortunately, heâs already content to doze off now that youâre here; one arm draped across his chest, your legs carefully brushing his. He reaches a hand down to the bend of your knee and swings your leg over his waist to bring you closer.
âCould never hurt me,â he mumbles into the top of your hair. âJusâ stay. Need you tâhold me, sunshine. Please.â
He hears a sigh of defeat leave your lips when he shudders through another sharp ache that wracks his entire body.
Right, Kryptonite. He was poisoned. He was injured. He is hurt. Itâs easy to forget when you're this close.
âOh, Clark,â you whisper. The hand across his chest moves to caress his cheek, fingertips ghosting over his stubble before tracing the black tendrils of his sickened veins down the side of his neck.
âMy sunshine,â he manages as his eyes slide closed. He sounds pathetic, and although he wants nothing more than to be strong for you he knows itâs more than he can manage right now. Youâre rightâhe needs rest, but he couldnât have gotten it without you.
âShh, Iâve got you,â you exhale into the space beneath his jaw. âItâs okay. Iâm here. Just rest. Itâs okay.â
âMâ s-sorryâŠâ
âItâs alright. Iâm here. I love you, Clark. I donât care about the video, okay? Iâm here because I love you. Without exception.â
I love you. It makes his heart want to sing it back, but heâs just too tired. So he hums low in the back of his throat, attempting to let his body relax now that youâre at his side.
As it always does, your presence works like cough syrup around a sore throat. Soothing and calming the inflamed bits of him.
âWeâll talk tomorrow, okay?â
He vaguely feels himself nodding.
My sunshine.
You settle over him like dusk, and he slips into a dreamless sleep.
~~~~
Itâs just his luck that he wakes feeling almost as miserable as the night before. Despite being physically restored, the doom and gloom of his thoughts did not seem to evaporate overnight. He wakes feeling just as bad about everythingâthe video of his parents, Maliâs death, his failure to save the rest of the prisoners in Luthorâs pocket-prison, Lois and Terrific putting themselves in danger for his sake. Heck, he still feels awful about the Justice Gangâs rather violent elimination of Kaiju.
And of course, heâs sickened by the stress heâs put you under. Because he knows you as well as you know him, and heâs aware that you worry yourself sick every time that heâs gone. Which recently, has been more than heâs preferred. Now, with everything thatâs happened, he knows you were beside yourself at the news. At the unknown. And he despairs over the fact that he couldnât get to you sooner to explainâthat you were the one finding him, and in this wretched state no less. Really, he should be the one comforting you.
But golly, does it feel nice to be on the receiving end of your warmth.
When he wakes, youâre no longer in bed with him. Heâd expected as much; it wasnât ideal trying to sleep whilst half hanging off the mattress. In your place is the white fuzzy mass of his cousinâs mutt, tail thumping rhythmically against the comforter with barely contained energy.
Clark sighs, bringing a hand to stroke Kryptoâs head when the door creaks open.
Kryptoâs ears flop up, the left one obnoxiously high in his signature look of curiosity, and he starts shaking in excitement at the sight of you. He pushes off of Clarkâs stomach, and his groan of protest makes you scold the dog softly.
âI thought youâd be in here. Hey! Gentle. What did we talk about?â
For whatever reason, Krypto listens to you more than he listens toâŠwell, anyone. The dog gives a soft whine before nuzzling your legs as you approach. Clark smiles at the sight, sitting up in bed as you give Krypto a scratch behind his perked ear.
âAlright. I think Ma cooked up some extra bacon. Go pester her for a bit, yeah?â
He gives your shorts a playful tug before loping down the hall. You close the door softly behind him and wander over to the side of the bed.
You look tired in the way that someone who just woke up does, and he adds your lack of sleep to the long list of things currently dampening his mood.Â
âHey,â you say.
âHi,â he greets. Although he is just as lost for words as he was when he was writhing in pain, Clark is sure his eyes convey enough of his inner turmoil given the way that you sit at the side of the bed with a steadying breath.
His hand immediately seeks yours. He brushes his thumb over your wedding ring, eyes settling on your face. Right away, you get the message.
With a shy smile you remove your hand from his to click open the large, intricate locket you never go anywhere without. It sits right over your heart, made from bits of the Fortressâ sunstone crystals. A single ring falls into your palm, and you click the necklace shut again. Then youâre grabbing his left hand to slide the band home at the base of his ring finger. You press a kiss over the jewelry. Then another for every knuckle.
Clark is watching you fondly the entire time, like you hold the sun itself in your hands. His smile broadens when a gorgeous flush appears on your cheeks under his stare.
Your eyes dance across his face and upper body. âHow are you feeling?â
He canât stop looking at you. âBetter. Normal.â
You nod with a shaky sigh. âGood. Thatâs good.â Clark watches your throat dip as you swallow, before looking between his eyes with a raw sort of pain that all at once makes his chest feel like itâs being cracked open. âI was so worried,â you say in a whisper.
âI know,â his voice is just as quiet. âIâm sorry. Gosh, Iâm so sorry, babyâŠâ he lets his head thunk back against the headboard.
âHey,â you grip his fingers. âDonât. Donât do that, Clark.â
âWhat?â he asks.
âTalk like everything bad thatâs ever happened is a result of your personal failure.â
His jaw clenches. âIt sort of feels that way right now.â
âIâm sure it does,â you say. âBut that doesnât make it true. Youâre a good person, Clark. The best I know. The best any of us know.â
He canât look you in the eye as he huffs derisively. âDoesnât matter. None of it was real. None of it was honest.â
âWhy?â you challenge. âBecause your birth parents said so?â
Clark shakes his head. How is he supposed to explain? How is he supposed to tell you how utterly unwound he feels? As though someone unstrung his innards and used them to spell out his truth for the whole world to see? How is he supposed to tell you that he's responsible for an innocent man's death? That that very thing is what his parents would have wanted?Â
âYou donât understand,â he says weakly. âItâŠI thought I knew who I was. That I was sent here to help people. To keep them safe.â
âYou are. You do.â
He shakes his head. âItâs not the same anymore.â
âIt is to me,â you say firmly. âClark, youâve dedicated your entire life to helping others. That doesnât stop or magically go away because the context of that video is different from what you originally thought. AndâŠâ you pause for breath, and maybe for courage. âAnd I donât believe that youâre the person you are today solely because of your biological parents. Iâm sorry, but I donât.â You hold his hand a little tighter. âYou never knew them. Not in the ways that mattered. And I know thatâs bothered you, butâŠif that's who they were, then you're nothing like them, Clark. Youâre an amalgamation of the people who know and love you now, the people youâve helped. Your Ma and Pa. Kara. Me. Lois and Jimmy. Every cat youâve rescued from a tree. Every person and life youâve saved.â
He canât break away from the fierce determination in your eyes even if he wants to. With the gravitational pull of a burning star, you draw him in. âYou get your never-ending caring and hope for this world from the people youâve surrounded yourself with. Theyâre just as much a part of why you do what you do as your birth parents were.â
Clark feels his jaw tremble. Feels the words seep in through his skin like rays of sunlight. This is why he needs you. Why you, above everyone and everything else, were more precious than anything.
Still, itâs difficult to believe, even coming from you. How is he supposed to accept that his parentsâ intention was for him to destroy the planet? To harm the very people heâd sworn his life away to protect? Even if he was the result of his upbringing, the foundation of his morals as Superman were all wrong. Corrupted. Misguided.
âI donât know how to exist without that part of me,â he says.
âNo one said you had to,â you say gently. âYouâll always be Kryptonian. But itâs what you value about that heritage that counts. And to me, what youâve valued the most is the very thing that sets you apart from the rest of us.â He grounds himself in the way your fingertips brush across his knuckles. You continue with a fire in your eyes that warms him to his core. âThe strength. The speed. Every other one of your gifts. Clark, youâve spent your life using what makes you different not to harm, not to conquer, though you so easily could. But to help. To do good. And I think that selflessness is what makes you just the same as any decent human whoâs ever known what it means to be different.â
Heâs lost for words any longer than, âthank you. I love you. Iâm sorry.â
He doesnât realize heâs pulled you close until youâre nearly chest to chest in an awkward standing-sitting hug.
âYou donât have to be sorry,â you say. âI love you too.â
âThank you,â he breathes. âFor justâŠjust being you. Being here.â
âOf course, Clark. We'll get through it together, okay?â you soothe, and he feels your breath travel down his neck. He wants you closer. You hesitate at the push and pull of his hands.
âIâm better. Promise. No more pain,â he reassures you.
Through the curtains, the early afternoon sun flickers across your face, and it makes the sparkle in your eyes dance as you allow him to pull you into his lap. Your arms go around his neck and then heâs falling into your chest, letting you cradle his skull as he breathes you in.
âI missed you,â he mumbles, the cool chain of your locket pressing into his cheek.
âI missed you more,â comes your response.
âIs Lois still here?â he asks. Heâs certain that sheâs buzzing to interrogate him.
âLeft early this morning,â you say. âSomething about Jimmyâs unimaginable penchant for snagging women and saving the day.â
Clark presses a kiss to your collarbone, making a mental note to send her a text. Right now, though, heâs content to feel the way you rise and fall slightly in his lap with every one of his breaths.
âAre you upset that she knows?â he asks, because heâs genuinely curious. When Lois had pieced together for herself that he was Superman, there was no talking himself out of it. She wasnât a sharp-witted, Pulitzer-prize winning investigative journalist for no reason. But for as long as you two had been together, Clark had kept your marriage a successful secret from everyone who knew of his alter ego. Youâd agreed it was better off that way, even if it was difficult.
Heâd been Superman for nearly three years now. He believed in the good of humanity, but heâd also seen some of its worst. If the wrong people got word that he was married, he might as well paint a giant red target on your back, and he couldnât stand the thought of you put in danger because of him.
âNo,â you say carefully. âI liked Lois from everything youâve told me about her. And she was very understanding when we spoke this morning, if not a little shocked about the whole thing. But I trust her. And I know you do too.â
He absently rubs his hands up and down the length of your back. Youâre in one of his high school t-shirts; heâd long outgrown them and had been more than happy to donate them for a better cause.
âOkay,â he says, before kissing the heart-shaped dip of your collarbone.
Clark withdraws slowly to look at you. Youâre beautiful. So, so pretty. He doesnât deserve you. Your kindness and honesty. Your willingness to be patient with him, to understand when he has to miss dates or anniversaries and still welcome him with open arms when he returns to you. To stand at his side even when the rest of the world has turned against him. To patch his wounds in the ways only you know how.Â
That beautiful blush reappears, and you give him a bashful smile. âStop it.â
âHm?â he hums innocently.
You fiddle with the fabric of his cape. âLooking at me like that.â
âIâd apologize, but Iâm not actually sorry, so thatâd be a lie.â He rubs his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. âI just like looking at you. Youâre so beautiful. So bright. Itâs like having my own personal sun following me wherever I go.â
You lean in to brush your nose with his. âYouâre a hopeless romantic,â you say breathily, and he hears the way your heart speeds up.
âNot hopeless. Heartfelt.â
You giggle, and it flutters around in his ears like birdsong.
âIâm so grateful youâre okay,â you say softly, nudging his nose. âWhen Ma told me what happened, I thoughtââ
âHey,â he stops you with a reassuring squeeze of your hips. Itâs fascinating how he reacts to the intense way in which you fret over him; he craves the attention of the person who knows him better than anyone while simultaneously wanting to prevent anything negative from ever harming your spirit, including himself. âIâll be okay.â
Your gaze turns firm. âYouâre a good man, Clark Kent. Donât ever let the Luthors of this world make you doubt that.â
âIâll try,â is the best he can promise you. Because it still hurts, everything about it, and he wonât deny that. But youâve done your due diligence in assuaging the guilt, just as he thought you would. Like a seasoned surgeon, Clark can feel the stitches of your words piecing him back together with meticulous precision. But scars take time to heal.
You place a gentle, barely-there kiss against his upper lip, and his body reawakens like prodded coals over a dying flame.
âI know the man I married,â you breathe against his mouth, hips shifting above his. âAnd I know heâs wholly good. Full of kindness. Compassion. Sincerity.â You ghost another kiss against his lips, and he chases you on an exhale as you withdraw.
âWhatâs the saying?â he asks, firming his grip on your waist to halt your wiggling. Itâs making it difficult to focus. âBehind every great man thereâs a greater woman?â
You chew on your lower lip, and it takes all his willpower not to pluck it from your teeth with his thumb. âI donât know if that applies in our case. Is anyone greater than Superman?â
âI think you know my answer to that, sunshine.â Just like that, he canât take it anymore. He kisses you soundly, reverent and slow. You breathe life into his lungs with the way you press closer, humming in pure bliss. Your fingers curl into his hair, tentative at first as though youâre still concerned with breaking him. Which, to be fair, you absolutely have the power to do so. Just not in the sense he thinks youâre worried about.
Clark often forgets that you need air a great deal faster than he does, but is reminded of this fact when youâre the first to pull back. You donât go far, especially not with him chasing after you, nosing along your jaw and peppering kisses on any spare inch of skin his greedy lips can find.Â
After a few long breaths you guide him back to your lips. He lets you tilt his head with your palms across his jaw. He lets you lead. Lets you have anything and everything you want, always.
Youâre running your hands down his front, fingers catching over the dirtied crest across his chest when your kisses turn breathier.
âMmm. You need a shower,â you murmur into his lips.
His answer comes in the way he swings his legs over the side of the bed, easily lifting you into his arms. You squeal in surprise, fingers curling into his cape as you giggle into his neck.
âMa got breakfast keepinâ warm in the oven?â he asks, relishing in the way your thighs squeeze around his abdomen.
You nod. âMore like lunch. Itâs past noon, Superman,â you tease, scattering kisses across the muscles of his neck.
âSorry,â he apologizes. He had been exhausted and more than needed the rest, but he shouldnât have kept you all waiting so long. But since you already had⊠âSurely a few more minutes wonât kill anyone.â
In truth, he doesnât think he could let you go if he tried. Heâs drawn to you in a deeply intimate, inexplicable way. Has been since you were bumbling, bashful, teenagers dancing together at Smallville Highâs homecoming. And though heâs usually perfectly content holding you without expecting anything more, right now he needs you close in a way that is only satisfied by his baser instincts.
Especially considering recent events, he just canât help itâhe needs your touch, craves it like a bird longs for empty sky, captivated by the promise of freedom and light. In the wake of his reputationâs imminent destruction, he needs it now more than ever. Craves the pacifying nature of your touches; in equal measure, he longs to undo you as much as you undo him.
âClark,â youâre breathing heavily against the crook of his neck, hiding as he walks down the hallway to the sole bathroom in the Kent residence. âI'm sure your parents will notice if we're hogging the bathroom.â
âYou said it's past noon? Iâm sure Paâs already tending to the cows,â he counters. âMaâs likely on the porch micromanaging. And,â he gently nudges the bathroom door shut with his heel, âyouâre my wife. I need you.â He sets you down, and the room feels laughably small as you both crowd the space. He doesnât let you get far, cradling your skull and guiding you to look up at him as he draws near. âThey understand. Wouldnât have called you otherwise.â
Itâs an obvious guilt trip and you both know it. But it works. Golly, does it work. Because youâre looking at him with a face full of surrender and he can smell the way the air turns between you.
âPlease?â he asks next. He always does. Itâs more than a courtesy, itâs about reciprocation. He only wants you if he knows you want him too. âPlease touch me, sunshine? I needed you so bad these last few days.â
You nod, and in the next beat heâs already slanted his mouth to yours. You kiss with the blended weight of anticipation and relief, and when you touch each other next, clothes start hitting the tile.
Heâs working down your shorts as you fumble with the faucet you both forgot to turn on so the water could heat. Your hands struggle with the clasp of his cape and the zip beneath. Itâs always an adventure trying to get his suit off, and after all these years Clark has accepted that thereâs simply no sexy way to do it. You share a few laughs and at one point he almost falls over trying to get down the ridiculous trunks, but heâs easily distracted by your scaldingly warm hands over his bare chest.
When the last of his uniform finally hits the ground, it feels like shedding a second skin. Despite everything, Clark still cherishes being Supermanâit's a privilege and an honor. By now, itâs so intricately interwoven into who he is that sometimes he canât distinguish between the two parts of himself. However, for once he lets himself accept the wave of relief as red and blue crumple on the floor. The weightlessness that comes with finally getting to be Clark Kent again. He has a lot to work through in the coming days, what with trying to re-learn what the cape means to both him and the rest of the world. Right now, though, heâs giving himself some grace. Heâs being selfish.
He's forgetting it all in favor of feeling you, and letting you feel him in return.Â
Your hands light a trail as you explore the planes of his body, which twitches and tingles beneath your warm fingertips. Clark is equally as exploratory, pinning you softly against the countertop as his palms skirt the outline of your naked body.Â
He'd been with you just over a week ago, but each time feels new, somehow. He gets the same thrill out of touching you that he did the very first time. He chalks it up to your mysterious ability of making him feel born anew every time you touch himâas though the way you beam unto him causes him to blossom into your light. In fact, he becomes so overwhelmed with the feel of your skin beneath his hands that he shakes.Â
"ClarkâŠ" you notice right away, because of course you do.Â
"I'm okay," he pleads, words muffled because he can't take his lips away from your skin. "JustâŠI missed you so much."Â
That seems to shatter something in you, a broken whine rattling from your chest as you arch your body into his. In an attempt to not run up his parents' water bill, Clark blindly shoves the shower curtain aside, guiding you into the cramped space.Â
You hiss in discomfort when you step over the lip of the tub. Clark quickly steps in behind you, bearing the brunt of the still-cool water that is clearly taking longer than it should to warm up. He'll have to take a look at the water heater later.Â
As is the rest of the Kent ranch, the shower is quaint and by all means not designed to accommodate a 6'4 Kryptonian, let alone a 6'4 Kryptonian and his wife. But you've made it work before, and you're both too eager and too overcome with longing that you're willing to ignore the claustrophobia of the small tub.Â
Clark's head sits a good few inches above the line of the shower curtain, but he doesn't mind at all. Particularly because he's not spending much time standing straight anyway, head and lips preoccupied with leaning down to ravage your mouth with his.Â
Your bodies dampen quickly under the spray and every touch becomes slippery. Your nails clutch his shoulders as he tucks you against the corner of the shower furthest from the warming water; you're generating enough of your own heat, anyway.Â
"Clark,"Â you whine his name like a desperate prayer and he knows instantly what you're asking for. If he didn't, surely the way your hips were moving against his solid thigh would've clued him in.Â
He manages to wrench a hand away from your beautiful face to slide down the front of your body. He detours at one of your breasts, distracted by the way your nippleâalready almost fully erect from the cold waterâhardens further under his attention. He can't help himself, leaning down to replace his fingers with the warm muscle of his tongue. You arch into him instantly, hooking a leg over his hip and shamelessly grinding against his cock as your head tilts back against the acrylic wall.Â
Even with the water swirling over your bodies, he can feel the wetness of your cunt as it slips against his cock, intoxicating in its invitation of heat. He can't help his groan, mouth popping off of your breast when the sensitive tip of him just barely catches at your entrance.Â
Suddenly there's two tight little hands entangled in his damp hair.Â
"Clark," you beg. "Please, justâŠjustâ"
His brows pinch together as he attempts to distract you with a kiss. "Gotta prep you." His thumb finally swirls over your engorged clit as he says it, and the reaction is instantaneous, evidenced by the change in pitch of your whines.Â
He's not trying to be cruel, but Clark knows he'sâas Jimmy once crudely suggestedâ"largely endowed". Hell, he remembers the bulging of your eyes the first time you'd been about to have sex. He'd blushed profusely and stammered through reassurances, promising he'd take as much care and time as you needed to prepare for him. Suffice it to say that penetration had not been successful that night, but that was perfectly fine with Clark. It was the first time you'd let him go down on you as an alternative.Â
Of course, several years of marriage later and he's gotten it down to a science. You weren't nearly as prepared to take him as you couldâas you shouldâbe. Especially standing up.Â
Apparently, you're hellbent on torturing him today. Which is so, so cruel. Don't you remember the last few days he's had?Â
"I don't care," you shudder the words against his mouth. "Please, I just want to feel you. I wantâŠI want you to feel me, use me, justâŠjust please."Â
Good golly. He's stronger than this. He knows he is. But you reduce him to fragments of the man who's saved the world countless times. Fragments only you have the power to put back together with your lips and your hands and your sweet, sweet, pussy that's so warm and so wet and he can smell how eager you areâ
"I don't want to hurt you," he forces himself to say it. In part because it's true, but also because it's the only way for him to cling onto his wavering restraint.Â
You understand his hesitation. He knows this because when you guide his eyes to yours, they're purely soft. The lust lingers, simmering at the surface of your blown pupils, but the look on your face is gentle. Reassuring. Wanting.Â
"You won't, I promise," you whisper. "I missed you, I missed having this. Especially with everything that's happened." You place a gentle kiss on his lips. "I want you to make love to me, Clark. Just wanna be close to you."Â
The decision is made before you even finish speaking. All it took was one flash of those soft, overly delicate eyes for him to melt.Â
Clark plants a peck on your kiss-swollen lips. "You'll tell me if it's too much?"
You nod. "You know I always do." Then your hips are resuming their torturously slow grind against his, and his eyelids flutter at the feeling.Â
You kiss him as he reaches between you to align himself. He makes a show of rubbing the sensitive head over your clit, just enough to make the need boil over and drive you both mad with anticipation. When he can no longer stand it, Clark pushes into you slowly. Everything around him narrows to the singular point of your pleasureâthe way your expression sharpens at the intrusion; the way your nails bite into his biceps.Â
"Oh, sunshine." The sound he lets out is low and obscene, but in an attempt to be mindful of his lurking parents, he presses it into your mouth instead.Â
You smother your own cry against his lips too, gasping at the feeling of being split open by him. The pause he gives you to adjust lingers longer than usual, because he'd meant what he said about not wanting to hurt you. That, and the feeling of your velvet-coated cunt wrapped so snugly around his cock demands a moment's hesitation lest this be over before it starts.Â
He takes your impatient squirming as the sign to move. Clark starts slow, pushing himself deeper while pulling out slower. Several times, he slips out entirely, sliding the length of him through your sopping pussy up to your throbbing clit. You make the sweetest noises, soft in your attempt to keep them at a respectable volume.Â
"Okay?" he checks in on a particularly deep thrust.Â
You nod, lip between your teeth with a look that borders pain and pleasure; but you're starting to meet his movements and he can hear the way your heart poundsâyou're enjoying it as much as he is. Your muttered praises and assurances melt through his skin and flow over every inner piece of him like magma. He feels like he's welded to you, sinking further into the molten heat of your body, helpless to do anything but fuse against your skin.Â
"Stretching me so good."Â
"I missed you."Â
"So glad you're safe."Â
"God, feel so full."Â
"I love you so much."Â
Clark has always been an overly emotional person who feels everything in troves; in moments like these, charged with too many feelings to put words to, that intensity increases tenfold. Telling him you love him nearly does him in. He loses himself in the feel of you, in the way your body feels like safety, your voice sounds like home, and it's simultaneously too much and not enough.Â
His eyes fall on the silver locketâthe one you never take off, especially when he's gone, housing his wedding ring for safekeeping. A piece of him with you wherever you go. He presses a kiss over it, its metal taste amplified by the water. He looks up to find your eyes hot on his, rapt with intensity.Â
A hand cups his cheek. âDonât scare me like that again,â you demand, though the sound is breathless and heâs eager to envelop your words with his mouth, but he waits.Â
"I promise," he says, and he'll spend the rest of his days trying his hardest to keep it. Though, he knows you're aware that he can't keep every one. But you love him anyway, and it feels unfair, and now he feels bad, so he's kissing you again because he adores the way it makes you cling to him that much harder.Â
When he retracts, there's a floaty look across your features as you tremble in his arms, hips canting to match his rhythm. Clark pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, your noses brushing as he guides your dreamy eyes to his. "You okay?"Â
You let out a breathless moan as you nod, beautiful eyes searching his. "Feels so good," you say, silken and full of yearning.Â
He presses kisses onto your shoulder. "Feels good for me too, sweetheart."Â
Clark cradles the crease of your knee, shifting you higher and opening you wider. The angle changes, and you both groan at the subtle, intense difference. The open-mouthed kiss you share is messy, slow, and uncaring as you breathe into each other's mouths. Everything about it is sensual and close and perfect, exactly what his weary soul had longed for.Â
Naturally, the pace increases as the tension steadily begins to build. He can feel your hard nipples scraping across his chest, the slip and slide of your bodies amplified by the falling water. He reads the focus on your face and can tell you're trying desperately to get there, to meet him in the middle. So of course, he has to help you along, because he exists for the sole purpose of your satisfaction. His own release is nearly inconsequential, a happy byproduct.Â
Two thick fingers settle just where you meet, and he stimulates the nerves all around your quivering cunt as he moves, feeling the way his cock breaches you on every thrust. Up, down, up, down in sloppy lines that trace the lips of your labia.Â
Clark watches your jaw fall and anticipates the sound that follows, quickly using his free hand to stifle it.Â
"Shhh, honey. Not too loud."Â
It seems that only invigorates your pleasure. Those beautiful eyes of yours roll into your skull. Clark takes the chance to be a little mean, as penance for your earlier goading him into skipping foreplay. His fingers settle at the apex of your thighs, and you jolt against the firm wall of his chest when he begins to circle your clit.Â
You're moaning becomes unbidden, barely muffled by his hand as he increases the staccato movement of his hips. One of your own hands roots in his soaked hair, the other splayed across his ribcage as you drool into his palm, everything a mix of sweat and water and spit.Â
You look blissed-out and beautiful.Â
"I missed you," he breathes. "You're so pretty. I missed you so, so much. My sweet girl, my sunshine. You're everything t'me, did you know that?" He thinks that drawn out moan might be a yes. "M'nothing without you. I love you soâahâso much. Yeah, I know, baby. It feels so good, doesn't it?"Â
He lets his hand fall in favor of anchoring himself to your hips.Â
"F-fuck, Clarkâ"Â
He's begun to suspect that you've uncovered his dirty little secretâthat hearing you curse drives him wild. He didn't typically enjoy profanities, but hearing them slip from your sweet little mouth entirely on accident, entirely because of himâwell, that was a completely different situation.Â
His hips snap forward and it yanks another expletive from your lips.Â
"Gettin' close, honey?"Â
Your nod smushes your nose across his face. "ClarkâŠ"
"C'mon," he pants into your ear. "Let go. Let it happen, baby. Oh, IÂ missed you so muchâ"
The telltale quaking of your thighs alerts him that you're nearly there. Clark is suddenly overcome with his desperation to feel it, fully ignoring the tingling that's settled at the base of his spine, the weight in his balls, the taut feeling spreading through his abdomen. His fingers rock over your clit, frantic but precise, just the right amount of pressure.Â
Your whines have increased in volume, and distantly Clark prays that his parents are actually outside, because there's no way they can't hear your sharp cries as your nails burrow into his skin, longing to leave marks that'll heal faster than they harm.Â
He begs you again, your name tumbling out of his pleading mouth as he urges you to cum for him, and that does it. Your release is tense, the shock of your overwhelmed nervous system escaping your body in several jerks. It's too much to feel you clamping around him, and his control snaps like a rubber band. Before he knows it he's fucking you through your release, chasing his impending high.Â
"Oh, baby," his voice shakes as it fans across your cheek, humid against your shower-soaked face. "You're gonna make me cum."Â
"Please," you weep. "Clark, please, inside me, need t'feel it, please cum in me, baby."Â
And finally, the next full-body shudder that wrecks his body is pleasant instead of painful. He whimpers like it hurts, but it's the furthest thing from pain and the closest thing to heaven. He burrows his head into your neck, body slumping forwards as he pumps his hips into you, feeling his warmth seep deep inside your fluttering cunt. Your hands run down his back, up his sides, down his chest, up his arms. You pull his face out of hiding, ushering his mouth back to yours with languid movements of your lips on his.Â
"I love you," he says into the kiss, wet and messy, water and spit mixing in your mouths.Â
"Love you too," you shudder.Â
For reasons beyond his comprehension, Clark feels his eyes fill with tears. For a moment, he hopes the guise of the shower might keep you from noticing, but of course it doesn't.Â
"Hey." Your warm hands spread across his face, thumbs tracing his cheek bones. "What is it?"Â
His voice breaks. "I'm justâŠI'm sorry. Sometimes it feels like I don't deserve you."Â
"Clark." Your voice isn't pitiful. It isn't bothered. It's overflowing with tenderness, and the kind of understanding that only comes with knowing a person better than you know yourself. "I wish you could believe me when I tell you that you're one of the best people I know. But even if you can't, at least trust in how much I love you."Â
A tear falls, and it's is the one droplet of moisture among many that you choose to swipe away with your fingers.Â
"I love you, do you hear me?" you repeat. "I'll be here for you, always."Â
He nods, and there's a cracked feeling in his chest that he can't decide is good or bad. Maybe it's a mix of bothâmaybe it's the rawness of vulnerability, or the type of sensitivity that comes with being this known.Â
You hold him for several more moments, the rain-sound of the water hitting the tub lulling him into a state of tranquility.Â
"We shouldâŠprobably actually bathe," you mumble eventually.Â
He gives you a loving smile, pecking each corner of your lips before kissing you fully, because he can. Because he wants to cherish it.Â
"Thank you," he says one final time. "For loving me. For giving me a chance."Â
You press a kiss onto his lips as you reach for the shampoo. "Always."
Summary: Over your four years working for Reed Richards, you'd given yourself one job: you can be his friend, but don't fall for Johnny Storm's charms. Too bad you had already failed that mission before it could even begin.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, SMUT (making out, unprotected sex, p in v, nipple play, oral f. receiving, temperature play, creampie, aftercare), porn with a LOT of plot, slight hint of some angst, fluff, friends to lovers, Johnny is a massive flirt, mutual pining, SPOILERS! for The Fantastic Four: First Steps, female reader but no characteristics described, mentions of parental loss, maybe some incorrect stuff regarding the 60s and how it worked but it's a fantasy world, lightly edited so apologies for any mistakes
Word Count: 17,433 words
Requests are open! : ÌÌâ Find my masterlist here
READ PART 2: The Wonder of Him : ÌÌâ Johnny Storm x Reader
âWe need to adjust the parameters for this. Thereâs a few more levels that I want to adjust, to ensure that weâve scanned the baby for all possible anomalies,â
Years ago, when you had miraculously been offered the position as Dr. Reed Richards assistant, it was a dream come true. The smartest man alive, holding 18 Doctorate degrees himself, choosing you out of the thousands of applicants to be his assistant was a âpinch meâ moment. Of course, he didnât want an assistant, it was thrust upon him by his wife, but you liked to think after all this time youâd wormed your way into his heart.
Working with ReedâŠwas something else entirely. It was a learning curve, understanding just how the manâs brain worked. Even to this day, you werenât sure you understood it. Even when things went perfectly, when test runs on prototypes worked out better than you couldâve ever imagined, Reed was never satisfied. Something could always be better, be improved, as if his brain was factoring in the hundreds of thousands of possibilities that could occur and alter your data. You made it work, thoughâwith patience and understandingâyou managed to find the best way to work around Reedâs faults and work with him, to support him.
What was supposed to be just a job in the Baxter Building became so much more. Through it, you gained a family you never thought quite possible.
Reedâs wife, Susan Storm, was another one of the brightest minds that you had ever encountered. Kind, compassionate, but fiercely loyal and unafraid to step up to the plate when a challenge arrived, when the people she loved were threatened. You admired her and everything she stood for, the way she carried herself day in and day out. And since the day you had arrived at the Baxter Building, she welcomed you with open arms, as if you had always been part of the family.
Ben Grimm was the most talented pilot youâd ever had the pleasure of meeting. The perfect counter to Reed and his panicky mind at times, having known the man long enough to understand his quirks in a way you could only hope to. Ben was always kind, always open, always ready to lend a hand or be a shoulder for anyone that needed to listen.
Johnny StormâŠwas the bane of your existence, in the best way.
âWrong address, sweetheart. The modeling agency is two blocks down. I could escort you over there, if youâd like?â
Those were the first words the hot-headed younger brother of Sue Storm had said to you, passing by you in the lobby of the building on your first day, a wink thrown in for good measure when heâd spoken.
Having followed Dr. Richards' work long enough, which meant knowing bits about his personal life, you were well aware of the reputation that Johnny Storm carried. The papers and magazines, talk shows and gossip blogs, all called him a playboy simply because heâd never been in a long-term relationship but was still a ladies man. You never saw him like that, though. All you saw was a brilliant guy, a lover of space, even if that passion of his was sometimes overlooked because of his âlove for womenâ.
And, oh, how you wished his empty, blatant flirting with you didnât bring a blush to your cheeks every time, or make your heart skip a beat, but it did. Every single time, it did. You werenât blind: Johnny Storm was objectively handsome and much too charming for his own good, and you decided right then and there that you would use every ounce of your willpower to ignore his empty flirts. You didnât need to become another girl hopelessly in love with the heartthrob of the Fantastic Four, even if your heart ached when you saw him with anyone else.
Those four had become important to you in ways that you would never be able to describe, but Sue always described it best: a family.Â
Thatâs why when four of the closest people to you in life went up into space for Reedâs exploration mission, and came back cosmically changed forever, you never left their sides. They were your family, and family stuck together, no matter what.
âReed,â your comment was cautious, hands stilling at your work station in the lab of the Baxter Building. Glancing over your shoulder, Reed was hunched over the machine heâd built in just a day, specifically to monitor the health of the baby growing inside of Sueâs stomach, as Herbie rocked back and forth beside him. âYouâve scanned Sue a thousand times at this point-â
âThatâs an exaggeration. Iâve scanned her 123 times-â
âThatâs not the point,â he glanced over at you then, looking away the second he saw the pointed look you were throwing at him. With a sigh, you abandoned your work, leaning back against the table behind you to watch him fret over the device. âWe have run every test possible, scanned for every data point that links back to the fluctuations in your DNA from the cosmic rays we noted years ago, and weâve gotten nothing. Your baby is okay.â
âThere are still more tests to run,â
Another sigh escaped past your lips, and you allowed yourself to hang your head with a shake.
Since the moment Sue had announced her pregnancy, heâd been like this: even more on edge than usual. Baby-proofing the kitchen, smoke detectors in every single room and hallway, baby gates around every corner, it was getting insufferable. A sweet gesture, overall, and a testament to how much he loved and adored Sue, but exhausting to everyone else that had to be in his presence.
âFine, but Iâm not breaking the news to Sue that you want to scan herâŠagain,â
âI already told her to meet me down here before dinner for another scan. We can adjust the parameters tomorrow. I want another data set from todayâs scan at the current parameters to compare the changes with,â Reed never looked in your direction, still fiddling with the machine in front of him. âYouâre staying for dinner, yes?â
âIâm making it,â was the response you shot back to him, powering down your workstation in the lab and rising from your chair, crossing the room to stand in front of him. âApparently Sue has been craving spaghetti, and requested my family recipe.â
âYou canât argue with a pregnant woman,â Reed muttered, just loud enough for you to hear, but he still never looked up. âIâll see you up there for dinner, then. Thereâs a few more tests that I want to run.â
âYou also have a meeting at 5:45 and one at 6:15,â you shot back to him as you turned to leave the lab, checking the desk calendar lying beside your work station. There was a hum from the man, the smallest acknowledgement you were going to get, so you set your sights on Herbie and waved him forward. âCome on, Herb. An extra hand in the kitchen is always nice.â
As much as you thought of the Fantastic Four as your family, you never stayed for dinner often. You always tried your hardest to uphold the lines between your work life and personal life, not wanting to blur them completely (though, you were sure you had already blurred them enough for it to be too late). There had been plenty of times over the years where youâd stayed for dinner, usually once a month at this rate.
Sue always invited you, and you never wanted to disappoint her, and you gave in often. Ben had a way of wrangling you into saying yes before you were ever given the chance to speak at all. Reed had only asked once, asking you to stay back for the dinner months ago in which they announced to you that Sue was pregnant.
Johnny asked every day. You said no, most of the time, but when you did stay for dinner it was usually because those captivating, bright blue eyes were staring into your soul and pleading with you to stay.
Speak of the devil: there he sat at the dining room table. Clad in a white t-shirt with their logo resting over the pocket and the blue pants of his suit, a weird sight given that you had been in the lab with Reed all day and didnât think any of them had left to attend to any âheroâ work.
You didnât say a word as you strolled past him into the kitchen with Herbie on your heels, simply plucking the box of Lucky Charms from his hands as you swooped past. It was impossible not to smile to yourself at the scoff of indignation he let out at your actions.
âHey-!â
âYouâre going to spoil your appetite,â you shot back at him, throwing him a smirk over your shoulder before slotting the now closed cereal box into the cupboard where it usually sat.
Herbie beeped out a set of beeps that, over the years, you had come to understand. This time, he was agreeing with you, pointing out some facts about how eating out of the box lacked moderation, and would in turn actually spoil his appetite. You gave the little robot a fist bump for that, something that Johnny shot the little helper a glare for.
âCome on, Herbert, youâre supposed to take my side on these things!â There was no real malice in his words as he got up from the dining room table, rounding into the kitchen as you took the pots and pans that Herbie had gathered for you, setting them out along the counter where you needed them. âBaby, you didnât tell me you were staying for dinner.â
When you told yourself that you werenât going to fall into the trap that was the charming and charismatic Johnny Storm, you werenât prepared for two things.
One: when he got comfortable around someone, he could be an even bigger flirt. Pet names were constant. Baby, sweetheart, honey, doll, loveâŠyou name it, Johnny called you it. Constantly. So constantly you were sure the blush on your cheeks was a permanent staple. Heâd even once called you his little flameâthat had been met with the tip of your heel being dug into his foot.
The second thing you werenât prepared for: touch. Johnny Storm didnât understand personal space, not when he was comfortable around you. If you were in the room with him, he was standing less than a foot from you, and you always knew because you could feel the warmth that radiated off his unusually hot skin. His hands would always rest on your arm, your elbow, right at the bottom of your lower back.
Moments like this in the kitchen were normal, and yet they still fried your brain. That simply little pet name, and Johnnyâs warm hand ghosting over your lower back, before coming to rest on your hip. Clearing your throat, you gently pried his hand from your body, shooting him a look as you moved around to get the ingredients for dinner, hoping your flushed cheeks didnât give you away.
âWhen your pregnant sister has cravings for my personal family recipe spaghetti, Iâm required to oblige her,â
âI asked you to make this for me two weeks ago and you refused,â
Johnny followed close behind you, like a little puppy following its owner. You tried, and failed, to contain your smile at his actions. The media might paint him as some sex god (you werenât going to lieâŠif he wanted to be, he could be) but you saw him for what he was: the epitome of a little golden retriever at times.
âWell you arenât a hormonal pregnant woman with super powers,â you shot back at him, taking the opened jar of spaghetti sauce from Herbieâs hand and dumping it into the pot on the stove top, turning up the heat on the boiling pot of water for the noodles Herbie had laid out for you.
âNo, but Johnny is a hormonal guy with super powers, who adores your cooking,â bumping his hip with yours, Johnny stole the wooden spoon from your hand with ease, dipping it into the simmering sauce to stir. With that same ease, he leaned down just slightly, leaving a kiss to your bare shoulder that felt as if it had left a brand into your skin. âJohnny also happens to just adore you, and loves when you stay for dinner.â
You had given up on the blush by now. Heâd surely seen it enough over the years with his incessant flirting, there was no use in hiding it. Bumping your hip back with him, biting into your bottom lip in a failed attempt to conceal the smile spreading across your lips, you stole the wooden spoon back from him.
âJohnny also talks in the third person too much, and is an insufferable flirt half the time,â he dipped his hand into the sauce, coating his fingers in red as you whacked lightly at his hand, forcing him to withdraw as quickly as heâd dipped in. âWhat have I told you about doing that!â
Heâd laughed, one of your favorite sounds, as you glanced over at him with a bright smile, unable to truly stay mad at himâŠever.
That was, until he dipped his sauce-covered ring finger and middle finger into his mouth to lick the sauce clean off, eyes never leaving yours and a smirk curling up on his lips. It forced you to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat and look away as quickly as you could, feeling a different kind of heat swelling in your body: yeah, Johnny knew exactly what he was doing.
âNot sure, baby, that look youâre giving me right now doesnât scream that Iâm insufferable-â
âOh, thatâs exactly what itâs screaming,â you shot back, even with the ghost of a smile pulling at your lips as Herbie readied the garlic bread on the counter behind you. âIf youâre not going to help, you can leave this kitchen. I donât care if you live here.â
Johnny rolled his eyes in response, hopping up onto the counter next to the stove where you worked. You caught the box of noodles he knocked over before they could fall to the ground, shooting him a look as he held his hands up innocently, dumping them into the boiling water pot.
âYou basically live here, too,â
âI donât-â
âYeah, because you keep refusing the room that Sue prepared for you,â
HeâŠwasnât wrong. Two years ago, Sue had transformed what was previously the guest room into a room that looked like it had been built just for you. Your favorite color on the walls, a matching quilt set on the bed, and sheâd offered it to you. A place to stay, to live, given that Reed sometimes had you in the Baxter Building until the oddest hours of the morning.
You declined, still desperate to keep that line between your work life and your personal life separate, as tempting of an offer as it was. Sue wasnât slighted by your decision at all, instead offering it to you to use whenever you needed to. There had been times in which you had taken up that offer, a few changes of clothes tucked away in the room on the odd chance that youâd need them.
âThis place is your home, not mine,â you didnât look at Johnny as you spoke, simply shaking your head as you stirred both the sauce and the noodles in their respective pots. âIâm Reedâs assistant, Iâm not family-â
âStop it,â
Even with the heat that rolled off Johnny Storm, every time his bare skin touched your own it sent a shiver straight down the length of your spine. His hand curled around your jawline, thumb and index finger pinching at your chin to force you to look up at him, to gaze into those intense blue eyes and the look on his face that had morphed so quickly from playful to serious.
âJohnny-â
âYou are family, whether you like it or not,â the statement didnât surprise you, it wasnât the first time in your four years of knowing him that Johnny had said something like this to you, or anyone on the team for that matter. It always made you feel warm inside, though, to hear him say it, to see that loyalty and love for the people he cared about shine through in his words, such a stark contrast to the way the media sometimes portrayed him. âThereâs not a thing I wouldnât do for you.â
That was new. He hadnât made a declaration like that to you before.
It was something about the look in his eyes as he said itâso genuine, so softâthat had you melting into his touch. His hand curled back up to your cheek, thumb just barely caressing the apple of your cheek, leaving a trail of heat with every swipe of his finger against your skin. Your heart betrayed you, fluttering in that moment like it always did.
These moments used to be few and far between. You didnât know how else to describe them besides just calling them moments. Over the first few years of knowing Johnny Storm, there were small moments where that empty flirts verged on the edge of something different, something raw and real. But in the last year, they happened more often than they didnât. Johnny wasnât pictured out with as many women anymore, wasnât brazenly caught flirting with anyone with legs and a pulse at events. And in moments like this, even in front of his family, heâd touch you, caress you, speak to you in a way that felt so genuine, that felt like it was real. Like the flirting was no longer just empty, meaningless fun.
That line between your work and personal life might have been a muddled mess, but the line between being Johnny Stormâs friend and something entirely more was practically non-existent now.
âYou say that to all your women?â you quipped back, trying to hold your own, even as you were melting inside and your voice came out as a whisper. The playful look on Johnnyâs face returned in a second, his fingers instead pinching the cheek heâd just been so softly caressing.
âNever, honey. Those words are reserved for my brother-in-lawâs pretty little assistant,â
In typical Johnny fashion, he was able to dissolve and ruin whatever the moment was in an instant with his usual âcharmâ. Swatting his hand away, you returned your attention to the food on the stove in front of you, smiling to yourself as Herbie beeped out a popular song youâd heard on the radio behind you.
âYou always have a line, donât you?â
âHey, you know what you signed up for, being friends with all this,â he jokingly motioned to his body, and you caught sight of the smile lighting up his face again as you laughed incredulously at his actions. âAs part of the package deal, being friends with me, you are legally required to attend movie night in the living room with me after dinner.â
You hummed in response, even if you were smiling the entire time just from listening to him talk.
âThis sounds like an impromptu movie night-â
âAll of our movie nights are impromptu, babe-â
âI saw earlier that channel 2 is playing The Sound of Music tonight,â you shot back at him, finally looking up at him with an expectant look on your face. âThatâs what I want to watch.â
Johnny groaned, throwing his head back and knocking it against the cupboards with a wince on his face. You couldnât help but chuckle at his overdramatic antics, as usual.
âBut channel 3 is showing Psycho!â
âAnd you dipped your handâwhich, god knows where that thing might have beenâinto my sauce for dinner,â
Johnny opened his mouth to speak, before mulling over your words, and effectively shutting it with a nod.
âYou know what, if it gets you to have a movie night with me, then Iâll take it,â
God, you adored this man, more than you should. More than you wanted to. In his presence, especially now, you were pretty sure the smile on your face was a constant, that it would never leave, as you laughed at him once more.Â
Finishing off the special blend of additions to your sauce, giving it another swirl with the wooden spoon, you brought it up to your lips for a quick taste. Satisfied, you held one hand under the spoon to keep it from dripping, holding it up toward Johnny.
âAlright, give it a taste,â
His eyes stayed locked on yours, that familiar intensity and warmth in them keeping you locked in place, holding your breath, as he took a quick slurp from the spoon. Smacking his lips together, running his tongue out along his lips, he gave a definitive nod.
âAs alwaysâŠperfection. Though, I expect nothing less from you,â
Before you could retort to his cheesy comment, his hand reached out, eyes still locked on yours, as he cupped your chin once more and ran his finger over your lips. With the slightest of glances down, you saw the small spot of red on his finger, the remnants of the sauce heâd so gently just wiped from your lips.
Glancing back up to those blue eyes you loved more than you cared to admit, you caught the way they finally glanced down at your lips, before looking away as if to not get caught.
â...am I interrupting something?â
As if Johnny had burst into flames and burned you, you jumped away from him immediately the second you heard the voice of Sue Storm across the room. You never even looked back up at Johnny, or turned around to look at the woman by the dining room table, just stared down into the sauce pot as you continued to stir it and the noodles.
âActually, sis, you very much are interrupting something here,â Johnny called out across the room, and you could see him gesturing with his hands between you both from the corners of your vision.
âJohnny,â you rolled your eyes, glancing over at him with flushed red cheeks from what had just transpired. âSue isnât interrupting anything.â
âShe kind of is. We were kind of having a moment here-â
âJohnny, we were not having a moment,â
You very much were having a moment, but you werenât admitting that to him. His ego burned hot enough, no need to stroke the fire.
Sue laughed, rounding into the kitchen as she stopped by Herbie, thanking him and taking the garlic bread tray from him to pop into the oven he had preheated.
âJohnny, why donât you go get cleaned up for dinner and stop bothering the poor girl. Bad enough Iâm making her cook for me, she doesnât need you hovering,â
The man let out a sigh, muttering something mocking toward his sister, as he threw himself off the counter with dramatic flair. He wasnât done making your heart race, though, his hand curling around the back of your head as he planted a kiss directly to your hairline, before he disappeared from the kitchen with a pat to Herbieâs head.
The pots on the stove were forgotten as you turned around, simply watching him disappear with an incredulous look on your face. Quickly, your eyes shot to Sue, who was watching you with a smirk as she leaned against the island counter.
âThere was nothing happening there,â
âI didnât say there was,â
âBut youâre giving me that look,â
âIâm not giving you any kind of look,â the blonde laughed, stepping up beside you to take the wooden spoon from your hand, tasting the sauce herself with a happy little sigh. âJustâŠenjoying watching the show from the sidelines, waiting for one of you to make a move.â
âSue, thereâs no move to make. Heâs justâŠheâs Johnny,â
âAnd Johnny is my brother,â she shot back with a grin. âAnd Johnny has never been like that with someone, just with you.â
You didnât get to respond, before Herbie cut in with another series of beeps. Your eyes shot wide as you listened to what he was saying, cheeks flaring an even brighter shade of red as Sue choked on air, laughing to herself at your side.
âHERBIE! THATâS SO INAPPROPRIATE!â
â€ïž
It had been two weeks, and Reed had somehow managed to scan Sue a total of 142 times, now. Sometimes, you wondered how she was able to put up with his hovering, the hovering that had gotten exponentially worse since she announced she was pregnant.
âIâm not getting clear imaging,â Reed called out from the other side of the lab, the only sound in the room being the incessant beeping of the machine heâd built to monitor the baby, and the solder iron in your hand as it worked away on the small device in front of you. You shook your head at his comments once more, adjusting the eye protectors resting on the bridge of your nose as little sparks jumped up as the last piece of the triangular device was finally attached. âIâm going to have Herbie recalibrate this, I donât like the data output Iâm getting, I want a clear image on the next scan. Is the second bridge device ready?â
âJust finished fixing the soldering on the stand, so it should be good to go,â you shot back, tossing your eye protectors down at your workstation, lifting the device carefully and carrying it over to Reedâs station, setting it down with the matching device. âAnd, once again, you really donât need to scan the baby again.â
You were met with silence, unsurprisingly. Until, the workstation down the room set off its alarm bell, a familiar tone that had you stand up straighter where you stood.
âNew deep space transmission,â there was a hint of elation in Reedâs tone as he said it, quickening his pace across the room with Herbie hot on his trail. âLetâs identify the origin, then record it for further analysis.â
Quickly walking back over to your workstation, your eyes drifted to that desk calendar sitting next to you, and to todayâs date: a poorly drawn flame, and the time â2:15â scribbled in a barely legible handwriting that you recognized instantly. Even if you hadnât, the terribly drawn heart with your initials in it scribbled in the corner wouldâve given it away.
âYour analysis is going to have to wait, Reed,â you called out with a sigh, knowing you werenât the one who put this meeting on the calendar, but you sure knew who had. âYou have a 2:15 incoming.â
â2:15? What 2:15?â Reed never even looked in your direction, focused on the new transmission. âYou didnât tell me there was anything on my calendar.â
âWell, I didnât put this one on the calendar myself, but you must have cleared it at some pointâŠâ
Just then, the elevator doors to the lab popped open with a familiar ding sound.
âAhâReed!â
Good god, Johnny Storm was trying to kill you. You werenât even sure if that was an exaggeration at this point, because you wouldnât put it past him.
Blue looked good on him, it always had, but the navy blue button up he was wearing was doing nothing for your mind that was screaming at you to âkeep it professional.â It didnât help that the first few buttons were already undone, giving a slight peak to his chest. The white chinosâthose were the nail in your metaphorical coffin. They had no right to be that tight, and he had no right to look so damn good in them.
âAhâŠthat 2:15,â you tried your best to conceal your laugh at Reedâs comment across the lab. âJohnny, do we have to today?â
âJohnny, do we have to today? As if I didnât ask to put it on the schedule,â the blonde man in question mumbled mockingly to himself as he slid up to your side at your workstation as you laughed at his antics. One of his hands grabbed the back of your neck, tugging you closer before you could even think about it, pressing another kiss to your hairline. Suddenly, you felt like you were back in the kitchen weeks ago. âDarling, have I ever told you how breathtaking you look in your lab coat?â
âItâs a white coat, Johnny, itâs nothing special,â you deflected, taking just a short glance up at him before you had to look away, already knowing you were as red as the table beneath your hands.
âBut the girl wearing it is-â
âJohnny, do you want to have this meeting or do you want to flirt with my assistant?â
You hung your head with a groan, even as Johnny laughed at the comment from his brother-in-law. His arm slung around your waist, hand settling on your hip as the heat that rolled off his body enveloped you for a moment, letting yourself lean into the side hug he gave you and the squeeze to your hip, before he was gone.
âThereâs enough time in the day to do both! No, I had some thoughts about the new suit designs,â
âThere are no new space suit designs-â
You glanced over at the pair as they met face-to-face in the middle of the lab, Johnny holding up the sheet he was concealing behind his back.
âYou finished them years agoâŠthey have dust on them,â Johnny deadpanned, letting out a sigh as Reed took the design sheet from him. âLook, I get it. Youâre going to be a father soon, youâre scared-â
âIâm not-Iâm not scared,â Reed cut in immediately, and you could hear the anxious undertone that overtook him immediately at Johnnyâs words. Without even having to be summoned, knowing how his brain worked after all this time, you simply shrugged off your lab coat and stalked over to the pair, taking the design sheet from Reedâs hands without a word and placing it on his chalkboard full of equations. âIâm-Iâm busy, Johnny. Iâm busy. Iâm busy, thereâs a difference.â
âHe means busy on his pace to scan Sue at least 200 times before she gives birth,â you shot back, sending Reed a bright smile that he frowned at, clearly seeing that you were siding with Johnny here. âNot terrified of becoming a father at all, those two things definitely donât correlate.â
Johnny laughed, smile bright, and it only brightened the one on your face, a tug somewhere deep in your chest pulling on you when he locked eyes with you. Reed snapped your attention back to him in an instant, running a hand down his face as he gestured in Herbieâs direction.
âJust handle the new deep space transmission, please, instead of ganging up on me with Johnny,â
You laughed, heels clicking against the floors of the lab as you joined Herbieâs side as he waited for the transmission to be scratched into the record. There was a woosh of air, the air beside you heating up instantly as a hand found its way to rest on your lower back.
âHave you listened to it yet?â
The smile on your face softened as you glanced over at Johnny, who was staring down at the record in front of you both with pure excitement in his eyes. Beyond the physical moments, his flirtatious moments, these were the moments that had your plan to not fall for Johnny Storm splitting at the seams, if it hadnât already.
âSeems to be a lot more of the same, just another complex signal,â Johnny left your side, the heat going with him, as he leaned against the blue table behind him. Herbie took the record from its place, rolling over to Johnny to hand it directly to him. âYouâre more than welcome to take it with you, give it a listen.â
He twirled the record in his hands with a grin, absentmindedly reaching out to scratch the top of Herbieâs head. That simple little action elicited a giggle, hand coming up to cover your mouth as Johnny glanced up at you with a smirk.
âWhatâs so funny?â
âHerbie isnât a dog, and yet you treat him like one,â you explained, stepping up just in front of him and grabbing his hand lightly, stopping the twirling of the record in his hands. âAlso, you do know you arenât supposed to get your fingerprints all over these, right?â
It was Johnnyâs turn to laugh as he spun his hand, catching it in his palm and bringing it up to his lips, leaving a scorching hot, but gentle, kiss to your knuckles, sending a shiver straight through your bones. He didnât even have a retort to your comment, just simply held your hand in his, thumb stroking along your skin, while your entire body flushed with a feeling you wanted to ignore.
âJohnny, what have I told you about flirting in my lab? I need my assistant, weâre trying to run a test,â
The moment was gone in seconds, your hand dropped from Johnnyâs as he raced to the other side of the lab, following closely behind Reed and tossing the record onto the closest table.
You could only shake your head with a laugh, walking beside Herbie to join them, knowing Reed would be mumbling to himself the rest of the week about this moment and how much Johnny liked pissing him off.
âCool! I got time,â
Reed didnât roll his eyes as you and Herbie joined them back at your workstations, but you could see how much he wanted to. Holding the device youâd just finished off in his hand, you watched in the same awe you had for four years as his arm stretched across the length of the lab, placing it right back beside your own workstation.
âBridge teleportation test one,â grabbing the notebook lying beside the device that contained your notes on the project, you flipped to a new page, prepared to note down any disparities that occurred during the test, as Reed placed an egg on the newly soldered stand. âMovement of organic matter six meters.â
Johnny grabbed the protective glasses beside the work desk, about to slip them on, before Reed took them with no hesitation and slipped them on himself. The blonde turned to you with an incredulous look that simply drew a laugh from you.
âThose are his pair, you canât touch his pair,â you teased the man, who simply shot you a wink in return, as you both took the pairs that Herbie was holding out to you both. Johnny gave the little robot a quick fist bump.
Such a simple action that still had you grinning in childlike adoration at the side of his face.
Reed gave you a simple look, confirming you were ready. You gave him a nod, as he took hold of the switch to activate the device.
âLetâs run it,â
The whirring of the machine sounded, three silver beams of energy emitting from the device and encasing the egg within a sphere of energy. There was a shift in the room as that energy grew, as the hum of the machine filled the air, before there was a simple POPâand the egg was gone.
One glance from each of you over your shoulders was enough to confirm that the egg was, in fact, sitting on the opposite platform. Completely untouched and intact.
âIt worked!â Johnny exclaimed, gesturing toward the egg.
Thatâs when the power to the building cut out.
It wasnât surprising, given the notes you both had taken. The amount of energy that needed to be funneled through the device in order to channel enough energy to actually move organic matter without hurting it was sure to be beyond the energy limits of the Baxter Building. A full power outageâŠnot what you were expecting. Not that you could write that note down in the pitch black of the room.
âJohnny,â Reedâs voice called out in the dark, steady with no hint of any emotion you could decipher in it. The man in question came to life beside you, body engulfed in flames, the flame resistant fabric of his specially tailored clothing working overtime to keep him from being stark naked. He stood with his hands on his hips, and even from the side you could see the smirk curling up on his lips. âCould you reset the breaker?â
Youâd known Johnny long enough now, been his friend for enough years, to know him. Know him better than a colleague should. The instant dip in his smirk to a frown was clear, the tension in his broad shoulders, as he tossed his glasses down onto the table. He didnât spare either of you another look, crossing the room to grab the record.
âOther way-â
âI know,â Johnny snapped, beside his flame engulfed body was on the other side of the lab, flipping the breaker as the electricity of the building roared to life again. The second it did, he was in the elevator, doors shutting without another word.
Neither you nor Reed spoke for a moment, simply looking down at the bridge teleportation device on the table in front of him.
âIâve upset him,â
Reed didnât phrase it like a question, he said it like a statement. Both were true, though. Reed always knew when he had upset Johnny, but never how he had really upset him.
You took a deep breath, nodding, as you scribbled a note in your notebook before turning on your heels, stalking back to your own workstation.
âWell, he went out of his way to put time on your calendar just to talk to you about the suits, and you did dismiss himâŠâ you trailed off as you reached your station, eyes flickering back down to that desk calendar beside you. You couldnât help it, letting your fingers lightly trail over that little heart with your initials, smiling to yourself, wishing it meant more than what it did mean: nothing. âJohnny loves space, he only got to go up once beforeâŠthis all happened. You canât blame him for wanting to go back.â
It was quiet for another moment in the lab, before Reed spoke up again.
âYou know him wellâŠbetter than I think I do,â
The flush in your cheeks was inevitable at that, embarrassment flooding you as it was easy for you to read between the lines of what Reed was trying to insinuate.
âI-I just listen to him. I always listen,â
It was quiet again.
âGo check on him,â was all Reed said. âIf thereâs anyone heâd want to talk to right now, itâs you.â
You wanted to argue, to save the crumbling bits of that wall between work and personal, but even you knew it was too late for that.
Johnnyâs bedroom door was just two down from the guest room Sue had offered you years ago, a bathroom being the only thing that separated them. Benâs room was at the other end of the hallway, along with the nursery where the soon to be baby Richards would sleep.
You may not have stayed in that guest room often, but youâd been in these hallways enough to know it like the back of your hand. To know it like it was your own home.Â
There were countless nights, before youâd make the short walk back to your apartment, where Johnny had coerced you into movie nights in his room. Heâd never try anything, never push you into something, always leaving the door open to make sure you knew he wasnât bringing you upstairs for some alternative reason. His room was just quieter, and felt more private. It gave you the chance to see the side of Johnny that the world didnât get to see.
The space lover, who spent his life dreaming of being an astronaut, of going into space and seeing the stars. He was a thrill-seeker, always wanting to live his life on the edge, to find joy in those rushes of adrenaline. But beyond it all, just a good man. A man who had an entire collection of records lining one wall of his room, organized from his favorite records to his least favorite, even though he claimed there wasnât really a least favorite. The world got to know the Human Torch, but in the confines of those four walls, you got to know Johnny Storm. The second you did, you knew your heart was fucked.
You found him in a spot youâd found him in before: leaning against the floor to ceiling windows of his room, staring out at the spaceship he hadnât stepped foot in for four years. Your heart broke slightly from where you stood in the doorway, able to see the longing that was woven into his frown, that shone through his eyes that never strayed far from the Excelsior.
âYou know,â with a few steps into the room, standing beside the record player, you lifted the needle to stop the replay of the foreign language from the deep space transmission that played on a loop. Johnny looked over, a soft smile overtaking his frown at the sight of you, as you kept your own voice soft and light. âI donât think deep space transmissions are the right background music if youâre going to stare longingly out your window.â
Johnny laughed in a huff, turning on his heel to flick through his record collection.
âAnd suggestions then for a melancholic moment such as this?â
âElvis typically has some hits that can set that mood,â
You watched him, the slight shake in his body that hinted he was laughing again, before he plucked a record from the shelves and rose back to his feed. Standing beside the record player with you, he slid it into your hands without another word and plopped into the chair just across from the player.
With care, like youâd done it a hundred times before (you had, right here in this room), you slipped the record onto the player, dropping the needle down as it coasted along the grooves etched into the record.
When no-one else can understand me, when everything I do is wrongâŠyou give me hope and consolation. You give me strength to carry on.
The lyrics settled in you heavily, but it made your body feel lighter. It was impossible not to read into them, to not think too hard about the deliberate music choice that Johnny had made. You couldnât help that, somewhere deep in your heart where you had buried your feelings for the flaming man years ago, you were hoping these lyrics were a personal message to you.
âReed send you to check on me?â Johnny asked after a moment, leaning back in his chair, arms folded over his chest as he watched you. Composing yourself for a moment, shoving the flurry of butterflies beating against your chest down, you turned to face him and his blue eyes with a shrug.
âTechnically, but I wouldâve come on my own,â Johnny hummed, the ghost of a smile on his lips, as his gaze found its way back to the spaceship taunting him just beyond the window. âCome on, matchstick, talk to me.â
He huffed out another laugh, stretching his arms above his head as you tried your best to keep your eyes trained on his face and not drift down his torso. Eventually, his arms settled back across his chest, his gaze still stuck out the window.
âI donât knowâŠitâs stupid. Last time we went up, we came back with superpowers, trust me, I get that. Now, heâs got a kid on the way. But I knowâI knowâthat he knows how much space means to me. So, when he just dismisses me like that-â
âIt makes you feel inadequate? Like youâre a child?â Johnnyâs gaze found you again as you shrugged with a light smile. âIâve worked in an enclosed space with him almost every day for four years, Johnny. He used to make me feel that way all the time, until I realized that Reedâs never trying to make me feel like that.â
âI know heâs not doing it on purposeâŠdoesnât mean Iâm not going to shit talk him in the confines of these walls,â he gestured around the room as you laughed, coming to stand beside his chair, looking down on him as he sighed once more. His hands fell, gripping his knees, as he rubbed them back and forth against the fabric of his pants. âI love space. Simple as that.â
You hummed, bending down beside the chair Johnny sat in so that you were essentially squatting before him, having to look up at him. Hesitation caught you for just a second, your brain actively fighting a war with your heart as you raised your hands, but you ultimately took his hands in yours.Â
All it took was a second for your eyes to drift over to the table beside him. One lamp, a stack of books, and the flash of a polaroid photo leaning against those books: a photo of you. Taken at some point in the lab, laughter written across your face, your hand almost blocking a portion of the lens as you tried to stop him from taking the photo. You didnât even remember it being taken in the first place.
Good god, he was really going to be the death of you.
Eyes quickly back on him, with a little squeeze to his hands, you gave Johnny the most comforting smile you could, even as your heart did somersaults in your chest.
âI know you do. Youâll go back to space, Johnny, I promise,â
His eyes watched your hands, and you could see it on his face: that hint of adoration, that hint of something genuine that suggested it wasnât all just a game, that you werenât imaging moments for more than they were.
âWhat if I donât?â
âYouâre Johnny Storm, Iâve never seen you not get something you wanted before. Especially not something you want this bad,â
His mouth parted just slightly as he hesitated. You watched as his tongue darted out, just barely grazing over the edge of his bottom lip, before you flicked your eyes back to his.
âYouâre wrongâŠI think thereâs something I want more. Been trying to get it for awhile, butâŠshe just keeps slipping through my fingers somehow,â
That tug on your heart was back. Your heart was surely beating so fast that it could be heard, hammering against your ribcage, as his thumbs glided back and forth across your skin. You could barely think of a response, too stuck on his words: the closest thing to a confession of any kind youâd heard in four years. Raw, real, genuine.
Johnny stood quickly, barely giving you a chance to potentially think of a response as he tugged you back to your feet. His arm enveloped your waist, your hand falling to his bicep as he still held your other hand in the air beside you both. You werenât sure now if the flush crawling up your neck into your cheeks was from the moment, or from the heat radiating off of him.
âW-What are you doing?â
âWeâre dancing,â he said it as if it was the most casual thing in the world, that usual smirk of his back on his face. Whatever had happened moments before, whatever confession may or may not have been said, was brushed away in an instant, that charming, flirty personality of his back in full force. âCanât turn on Elvis and not dance, I think thatâs a literal crime.â
âI didnât know you even knew how to dance,â
âOh, I donât, Sueâs been telling me for years that I have two left feet,â Johnny shot back, shooting a wink down at you as his hand readjusted its grip along your waist. âCanât be that hard with the prettiest girl in the building in my arms, right?â
Swaying back and forth, wrapped up in the heat of his body, in the faint smell of the cologne that coated his clothing, you were very certain that Johnny Storm was going to be the death of you.
And when you smile the world is brighter. You touch my hand and I'm a king. Your kiss to me is worth a fortune, your love for me is everything.
Johnny tilted his head back from you by just a hair, and you followed suit. Deep blue eyes, as captivating to you as they were the first time you ever saw them, shone with an emotion you couldnât quite decipher. If you could, you werenât sure you would survive knowing.Â
Faces just an inch away, the closest and most intimate moment youâd ever shared with the man you knew in your heart was never going to be just your friend, your colleague, you were verging on the edge of making a terrible choice. Of opening the floodgates, of unlocking the feelings youâd buried away so long ago and letting them flow.
âThis is an interesting little relationship you and I have, you know,â
Johnny always found a way to ruin these moments, and this was just another example. Lips tugged up into a smirk, mischief swarming his eyes as he teased you, that fleeting moment of raw vulnerability was gone.
Hand slipped from his, body pulled back from his and a roll of your eyes, you turned on your heel within seconds.
âSo typical of you, Storm,â
âWhat-? What did I do!â
You huffed out a laugh, a smile creeping onto your lips even as you tried to keep it at bay, as you threw your comment over your shoulder as you walked toward the door.
âYou went and killed the moment, Johnny, as per usual,â
â...so you admit it, we WERE having a moment!â
You barked out a laugh, shaking your head as you crossed through the doorframe. You could never stay mad at him, not when your heart yearned for him in a way you wish it didnât.
âCome on! At least let me make it up to you. Will you stay for dinner?â
With a final glance cast over your shoulder toward him, you shot him a bright smile.
âIf youâre lucky, flame boy!â
â€ïž
Yeah, you really couldnât say no to Johnny Storm.
Not when heâd spoken so sweetly to you, held you so tenderly, and all around just invaded every part of your brain and your heart. To be fair, he barely had to try honestly to do that.
It wasnât shocking to see Ben in the kitchen, it seemed to be one of his happy places. You werenât complaining: on the nights you did stay for dinner, and Ben was cooking, you knew you were going home with the best leftovers the city of New York had ever seen.
âDecided to stay for dinner again?â Sue called out toward you with a smile, giving Herbie a pat on the head as he worked away at carving a pumpkin. You shot her a smile in return, pouring yourself a quick glass of water before making your way toward Ben.
âJohnny askedâŠand I decided to be nice and oblige him,â you didnât miss the teasing hum that Ben let out, lightly whacking him on his rocky shoulder. Not that it did you any good, hurting your hand more than it would ever hurt him. His laughter was ignored as your eyes lit up, catching sight of the familiar black and white cookies he was dumping onto a plate. âOh my god, did you go grab these from Maisieâs?â
âYes,â Ben waved your hand away when you went to reach for the cookies, producing another paper bag and sliding it your way. âThese ones are yours.â
The smell that wafted from the bag was enough to have you almost moaning in the middle of the kitchen, eagerly digging one of the cookies out. Maisieâs famous snickerdoodle cookies, the perfect blend of cinnamon and sugar that you had adored since you were a little girl. One bite of the cookie had you in absolute heaven.
âOh my god, I havenât had these in ages!â Ben and Sue both laughed at your excitement as you took another bite of the warm cookie in your hand. âHow did you know these were my favorites?â
Benâs smirk wasnât hard to miss at all.
âOh, I didnât. Johnny asked me to pick those up for you,â
It was probably time to accept that blushing around this family was the only thing you were capable of.
Sueâs laughter rang loudest as she rounded the island counter, high fiving Ben as she shot you a pointed look.
âYou really have my brother wrapped around your finger without even trying, huh? You know, before I went to get scannedâagainâin the lab, I stopped by the nursery to check out the crib progress. Heard a little The Wonder of You from down the hall, thought Iâd peek inâŠâ
The groan you emitted could probably be heard from the other side of the country, leaning down to barely bang your head against the countertop. Ben and Sueâs laughter rang through the air again as you looked up, desperately waving your hands.
âI swear, it wasnât what it looked like-â
âWhat wasnât what it looked like?â
Of course, Johnny chose to make his grand entrance at that moment. Thankfully for you, heâd changed out of that ridiculously hot button up. Unfortunately for you, he was still wearing those god forsaken white chinos.
âYour little dance Sue was telling me about earlier,â Ben teased, easily catching your hand as it came up to whack him again in his rough, oversized one. âWhatâs with the long face?â
âOh that dance was exactly what it looked like. Thanks for coming to dinner though, sweetheart, glad you like the cookies,â Johnny tacked on a wink in your direction, one you affectionately rolled your eyes over, before his smile was back to a frown. âAnd what of it, Ben?â
âSounds like your 2:15 with Reed didnât go well. Iâm sorry, pal,â
From across the room, you could see Johnnyâs shoulders move in a huff of laughter as he clapped, bringing down the cabinet shelf that held the same box of cereal you had taken from him two weeks ago. You moved around the island counter, filming your cup with more water before standing opposite of Ben while Johnny made his way back over.
âHey, Iâm fine,â he spoke, though the edge in his words was clear as he did, coming to stand directly at your side. âI donât mind or anything, itâs just, uh-â
âI hear you, pal. Weâll go to space again,â
âThatâs what I was trying to tell him earlier,â you tacked on, bumping your hip with Johnnyâs, who quickly did the same back to you.
That smile you adored was back in moments, though, as he dug his hand into the box and produced the action figure waiting inside: a miniature Johnny Storm. His bright grin was turned in your direction as he waved the toy toward you, his signature catchphrase from the cartoonâflame onâringing through the air as Reed entered the room, greeting his wife by the dining room table.
âThey captured my likeness so perfectly, donât you think?â he quipped, activating the catchphrase once again as you rolled your eyes. âDo you still have the one I gave you a few months ago?â
âYeah, buried in the junk drawer of my kitchen,â
Johnny feigned shock, pinching your side quickly as you squirmed away with a laugh.
âAt least upgrade me to your bedside table so I can be with you while you sleep,â that stupid line was accented with another wink before Johnny thrust the toy in Benâs face. âCome on, admit itâs cool.â
That catchphrase just kept repeating.
Iâm Johnny Storm! Flame On!
Flame On!
Flame On!
Ben grabbed the toy from Johnnyâs hand in seconds, crushing it to nothing but dust and blowing it back in Johnnyâs face with a smirk. You tried everything to conceal your laughter, but it was inevitable.
âFlame off!â
Sirens rang outside the balcony of the buildingâs living room. The flying cars of the police force raced past, bathing the room in red and blue lights. The second they disappeared, another squadron flew past in the other direction, the sirens all intermixing in the air.
These were the moments you never got to see often, when the team sprung into action. It was clear in Johnny and Ben alone, how their silly little moment was forgotten as they thrust into action, prepared to go running out of the building into danger. Reed simply held up a hand, shaking his head at the group.
âNo, no, itâs alright. This is me,â
Ben and Sue followed Reed out onto the balcony, but Johnny hung back, his gaze stuck on you as you hadnât moved from the kitchen. He simply tilted his head toward his family, holding his hand out for you. Such a simple move that shouldnât have kickstarted your heart into what was surely an irregular rhythm, but it did.
The second you were at his side, Johnnyâs hand rested at the small of your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt just so to tug you slightly closer to his side. Together, you stepped out onto the balcony of the Baxter Building beside Ben, overlooking New York as it was bathed in every corner in red and blue.
âFor the past few months, Iâve been tracking a small number of criminal organizations throughout the city,â
You shot a look down at your boss, eyebrow raised.
âThatâs what youâve been doing in that notebook by your desk?â Reed simply waved your comment off, pointing just down the block, fairly close to the area in which your apartment resided.
â47 of them, to be exact. Including the Puppet Master in the Bowery, the Wizard in Gramercy Park, and Diablo in Washington Heights,â
Everyone on the balcony went quiet for a moment.
âYouâŠbaby-proofed the world,â Ben finally spoke. Sueâs sigh could be heard from the other end of the balcony as she tried to defend her husband.
âItâs a sweet gesture,â
âItâs a little insane,â you mumbled to yourself, just loud enough for you and Johnny to hear. The blonde at your side simply shrugged, glancing down at you and catching your gaze.
âItâs not totally crazy. Heâs trying to protect the things he loves, whatâs most precious to himâŠâ Johnnyâs lips quirked up just slightly. âIâd do it tooâŠIâd do it for you.â
He said it soâŠso earnestly. With so much conviction in his tone, as if this was a certainty to him. That protecting not just his family, but you, was something he needed to do. That if it came down to it, heâd do it without a second thought.
âYouâŠyou have to stop saying things like that to me, Johnny,â you hated how breathless your voice came out, how wrecked you sounded as you whispered your response back to him, the conversation still droning on in the background between the other three.
The smile on Johnnyâs face only widened, his hand slipping around from your lower back to your waist, as he gave you a light squeeze.
âStop saying what, the truth?â
No, you need to stop saying things that are making me fall in love with you.
Love. That was a word that had only crossed your mind once when it came to Johnny Storm.Â
It was two years ago, a week to the day that you had lost your mother, your biggest supporter in life. You stood at that funeral, surrounded by estranged family members you hadnât spoken to in years, and family friends who wept for your loss. Reed, Sue, Ben and Johnny had come, offered their condolences, paid their respects.
When the others left, Johnny stayed. He stood by your side through the first viewing, never left it during the second viewing, and stood with you in the pouring rain an hour after theyâd put her in the ground. You had cried, he held you, and heâd simply never left you alone that day. The colleague that had quickly become a friend, who flirted with you every chance he got, never uttered a single flirtatious comment that day. Heâd simply been there, been the shoulder you needed.
That was the day you realized you may have fallen in love with the one man you told yourself not to fall in love with, and you buried those feelings in your heart for what you thought would be forever.
âStuck in your head over there? Come on, itâs dinner time,â
Benâs voice broke you from your stupor. The team had all started to make their way inside while you were left at the balcony railing, hands white knuckled on top of the rail.Â
Johnnyâs hand was held out toward you, and you ignored every part of your brain that told you not to and slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you back in toward the living room.
Thatâs what their watches all went off, alerts blaring in sync with one another.
It was like a firework went off, a boom shattering the night air of the city. The clouds, the sky, were painted in gold, streaks of meteors and debris crossing the sky as they fell to the earth. The sound that emitted from the golden cloud that stretched across the sky, bathing the city in its light, feltâŠotherwordly. Like a scream, like a warning.
A warm hand enveloped your face, turning your wide eyes away from the scene.
There were very few times you saw Johnny as serious as he was now. Jaw locked, eyes narrowed but still soft as they looked at you, the cascades of gold shone over his face, highlighting his features as another boom sounded off in the distance.
âGo inside, donât come out,â
Words were caught in your throat. All you could manage was a nod, his thumb doing a single swipe over your cheek, before he patted Reed on the shoulder and launched himself over the railing and into the air, igniting himself as he went.
If not for the moment, you would have stopped to admire him as he flew, bathed in the reds and oranges of his fire. You were awestruck every time you got to witness those cosmic powers firsthand.
Reed, Sue, and Ben had followed not long after, as you could hear the familiar whirled of their car through the air, chasing after Johnny through the city, following whatever had just appeared from the sky.
You? You sat on the living room couch, wringing your hands together to keep them from shaking. Youâd been there as they had dealt with Red Ghost, or even Moleman, but this?Â
This was different. This was otherworldly. This was terrifying. And when Herbie flipped the switch of the television, rolling to your side, you were greeted with the sight of the silver alien woman hovering in Times Square for the first time.
âYour planet is now marked for death. Your world will be consumed by the devourer,âÂ
Her voice sent a single chill down the column of your spine. Herbieâs robotic hand reached out for yours, ceasing the endless wringing of your hands together. You took it without hesitation, though you wished in your heart it was someone elseâs hand holding yours in this moment.
âHold your loved ones close, and speak the words youâve been afraid to speak. Use this time to rejoice, and celebrate, for your time is short. I herald his beginningâŠI herald your endâŠI herald, Galactus.â
And thus began the longest night of your life since the day your colleagues went into space and came back forever changed.
Sending the team into space was the only option, to confront this mystery at its source. Reed had given you the basics in passing: the threat was real, there was documentation of plants across the universe disappearing entirely, the chrome womanâs signature left on each of them. Heâd tasked you to the launch team, to prepare Excelsior for launch in T-16 hours.
Hold your loved ones close, and speak the words youâve been afraid to speak.
Those words rattled around your brain the entire night, into the wee hours of the morning. Even as you helped Lynn set up the press conference, as you conferred with the launch team to ensure that the Excelsior was prepared in every conceivable way, as you checked and double-checked every data point throughout the entire ship, her words never left you.
Hold your loved ones close, and speak the words youâve been afraid to speak.
The anxiety was clawing at you, even as you threw yourself into work. The notion of what her words meant, of what could happen, of how close the end could be.
The clock read sometime around 2 a.m. when you had finally stepped foot in that guest room made for you. There was no way you were walking home tonight. Besides, come morning, there would still be too much to do, too many data points that needed to be checked, too many scenarios that would need to be run through to make sure your team came back to you.
You knew sleep wasnât coming to you, though, not when that metallic voice was rattling around your head. Not when an alien threat was upending your life. Not when, two doors away, there was a man that you did, in fact, want to hold closeâŠin case you never got the chance to again.
You loved him. All it took was the end of the world to admit it.
Clad in nothing but an old t-shirt with the 4 logo on the front, one you were sure was Johnnyâs, and a pair of shorts, you didnât care what you looked like as you tore out of the room and into the hallway. Not now, not when your world was being threatened, not when your entire life could be ripped from you in a matter of seconds.
Johnny was awake, just as you knew he would be. White shirt, plaid blue pants youâd seen him sleep in so many times, he stood in his dark room by the windows once more, watching the crews rush around on the ground as they prepared the ship for launch in just a few hours. That same record from earlier in the day was still playing.
I guess I'll never know the reason why you love me as you do. That's the wonder, the wonder of you.
With a step into the room, shutting the door behind you and flicking on the lamp just beside the door, Johnny finally met your eyes.
âI couldnât sleep,â was the only thing you could manage to say. Johnny tilted his head, studying you silently, before he held out his hand just as he had done hours before.
âCome here,â
Crossing the room in a matter of moments, you all but fell into his arms. His outstretched hand ignored, he was frozen in place for just a moment as you curled your arms around his neck, throwing yourself into his arms. The faint smell of his cologne lingered, as did his bodywash, and the sigh you let out the second the smell hit you was in comfort.
It didnât take Johnny long to unfreeze, his arms finding their place around your waist. One hand rested on your upper back, one pressing into your lower back. A faint kiss was placed to the side of your head, heat lingering for a second. Heat lingered in your entire body, radiating off of him in waves.
âYou have to talk to me, baby,â
Talk? The truth was, you didnât know where to start. How were you supposed to explain that, since the moment you had met Johnny Storm, your heart was already his. That in all your moments over the years, youâd fallen for the man you told yourself not to fall for. And as the threat from the metallic woman loomed over the world, as he prepared to try and save life as you knew it, the only thing you wanted was to be held by him. To know he was here, that he was okay, that he was with you.
âI-Iâm scared,â
Those were the only words you could settle on. Johnny pulled back, his hands sliding gently around the fabric of the shirt hanging loosely from your body until they reached your face. He cradled you, so softly and gently in his hands, it was almost involuntary the way you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, his warmth, chasing the feeling of security it brought you.
âItâs okay to be,â the gentle tone in his voice washed over you, covering you like a blanket. Itâs exactly how he had spoken to you that day, standing in the rain when you refused to leave your motherâs side, reassuring you he was there. âI donât care what the herald said, Iâm not going to let anything happen to you. You know that, right?â
Of course you knew that. If there was anything you knew for certain in this world, it was that when Johnny Storm said heâd protect you, he meant it. Heâd spent long enough proving that to you.
There was no hesitation on your part when you laid your own hands overtop of his. Fingers curling around them, tugging his right hand just barely from your cheek, you turned and pressed the lightest of kisses to the palm of his hand.
Johnny froze. You could feel it. The slight tilt of his head, the questioning look that flickered across his face in the moonlight that shone through the windows. It was all fair. You were never the one to cross the boundary like this, to make a move such as this.
âI canât stop thinking about what she said,â was how you tried to explain yourself, stopping and starting your sentence over and over as you tried to find the right way to explain yourself, the walls crumbling and the floodgates bursting wide open. âHold your loved ones close, and speak the words youâve been afraid to speakâŠitâs why I came to you.â
A single emotion crossed Johnnyâs face in seconds: understanding.
That signature smirk of his was back in moments, even if it was twinged with a softness reserved only for you. The heat left your cheeks, but found your hands as Johnnyâs fingers intertwined with yours, hanging your joined hands down between you both. There was a bright light that passed over the window for just a moment, bathing the two of you in bright light, before you were plunged back into the darkness of his room yet again.
âYou did come to meâŠwhyâs that?â
âYou know why-â
âI do,â he said it so matter-of-factly, that smirk growing just a tad as he leaned into your personal bubble by just a hair. âThis push and pull, four years of âwill theyâ or âwonât they.â I want to hear you say it, baby.â
âItâs not that easy,â you immediately shook your head, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as Johnny simply watched you. âSaying itâŠmakes it real.â
He scoffed, the sound mixed with laughter, as his head cocked slightly more to the side.
âYou came into my bedroom at 2 in the morningâwearing my shirt, might I addâis that not real enough?â
âWhen youâve spent years trying to ignore how you feel and refusing to say it, itâs not that easy to say,â you desperately tried to explain. âIf I say itâŠthen everything changes.â
Johnny took barely another step forward, and you almost wanted to step back, to bring back the space between you and preserve the small, crumbling wall that still stood between you both.
âA sexy, naked alien woman came to earth and basically prophesied our demise, darling. If there was ever a time to âchange everythingâ and lay it all on the line, I think itâs now,â
Your heart wanted to hang onto the word darling, but your brain was too stuck on the âsexy, naked alien womanâ part of his sentence. The sigh that escaped you was instantaneous, as well as the frown, as you shot the blonde man a pointed look.
âSexy, naked alien woman, Johnny? Seriously?â
âCome on! She wasâobjectivelyâattractive. You canât deny that!â
It was your turn to scoff, tearing your hands from his in a heartbeat, before spinning on your heel. You felt like an idiotâon the precipice of finally confessing your deepest, darkest secret youâd kept locked away for years, and this is what you got.
âI try to be serious with you, Johnny, and you turn it into a joke once again-â
You didnât get far from him. A hand enveloped your upper arm mid sentence, tugging and spinning your back around. A gasp fell from your lips as you collided with the chest of the man before you.
Whatever you were going to say never saw the light of day. Not when Johnny Storm gripped at your hips, tugged you as impossibly close as he could, and finallyâfinallyâkissed you.
The kiss youâd dreamed about for four years, finally yours.
Johnnyâs lips were soft as they slanted against your own, enveloping you in his warmth. They moved against you in a steady rhythm, passionate but still gentle, still testing the waters of the line you had never crossed before.Â
His hands curled into the fabric of the t-shirt clinging to your body, pushing it up just enough so that his hands could dip underneath. Your breath caught, even as his lips continued to move against yours, as his heated skin made contact with yours, and any part of your brain begging you to stop this was silenced as you melted into him.
Hands landed on his broad chest, gripping the fabric as you let him mold your body to his, the scent of his bodywash enveloping you as your body almost became one with him. In the pits of your stomach, as those heated hands trailed up your waist and ghosted over your ribcage, another flurry of butterflies erupted as a moan slipped past your lips, swallowed by his mouth.
A moan left Johnnyâs lips at the sound of your own, one hand leaving your waist to curl around the back of your neck. Those slender fingers buried themselves into your hair, gripping just enough to have another groan of pleasure tumbling from your lips, as he guided your mouth against his own.
âYou canât keep making little noises like that,â his mouth barely left yours as he spoke, lips moving against yours, as he dove back in for another kiss the second he was done speaking.
âYour fault,â was all you could manage out, trying to back away just enough to speak, but Johnny never let your lips go far. Your hands glided up his chest, his neck, curling into his short hair as your thumb crested the ridge of his ear. âIâm trying to be mad at you.â
âBe mad at me later,â was his immediate response, his lips leaving yours just to find their place along your jawline and slide down into the hollow of your neck. His tongue danced its way across your skin, leaving tingles of electricity everywhere he touched you, his words murmured into your neck as he buried himself there. âIâm trying to kiss you.â
There was some part of you that wanted to protest himâover what, you werenât even sure at this pointâbut you couldnât. Not when his teeth dug just so into the side of your neck, leaving his mark on your skin as if he was claiming you as his.
You were always his.
âYou c-calledâoh godâyou called the alien sexy while I was trying to confess,â you just barely managed to get the words out through your moans. Johnny was slowly walking you backward, straight in the direction of his bed while his lips never left the side of your neck, leaving his mark on every inch of skin he could see.
Your foot caught on the raised edge of the platform his seating area sat on, your feet stumbling backward. Johnny was thereâhe was always thereâand tugged you back into him. And god, if you loved those blue eyes before, you loved them even more now: pupils blown wide, Johnny Storm looked about as wrecked as you felt.
âYour confession was four years late, and Iâm impatient,â he stole another kiss from you, his teeth sinking just barely into your bottom lip, tugging gently. He let go, pressing a messy kiss to your lips to soothe the pain of his bite, words fanning out over your lips. âIâve been trying to tell you Iâm in love with you for four years now, so please just shut up and let me show you instead. Nowâjump.â
At this point, youâd do just about anything he asked of you.
Johnny caught you with ease, both of his hands splayed out across the bare skin of your thighs, locking your legs around his hips. A choked moan fell from your lips the second your core was dragged against the painfully hard length bulging against his own pants, hands curling into his hair as you, this time, desperately pulled him into a kiss.
Iâm in love with you. Those words repeated like a mantra in your head. Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, the worldâs fire boy and hero that they painted like a sex symbol. The âplayboyâ with a new girl all the time, never able to hold down a girlâŠwas in love with you.
Your back hit the bed, body bouncing just slightly before settling. His eyes never left you as you crawled back just slightly, propping yourself up on your elbows to look up at him in the dark of the room, lit only by sky and the lamp by the door. The music played faintly in the background, but at this moment, it meant nothing to you.
Johnnyâs hands gently touched your knees from where they dangled off the edge of the bed, parting them just so in order to step between them. You watched, entranced by every move he made, body flushed from the heat that coursed through your bare skin at the slightest of touches from him. With a practiced ease, his hand took hold of the back of his shirt, yanking it over his head without hesitation. It found a place to lay somewhere across the room, discarded until the following morning.
It was impossible not to stare. His broad chest, those biceps that always threatened to bulge out of every shirt he wore. His toned abdomen and the trail of hair that led straight to the waistband of his pants, the outline of him still prevalent and straining against the fabric.
âI need to know that youâre sureâŠabout this,â you werenât used to it, the vulnerability in Johnnyâs tone. He leaned over you now, hands splayed across the bed on either side of you, barely a few inches from your face. Those blue eyes flickered down to your lips time and time again. âBecause if I kiss you again, Iâm not stopping until youâre mine.â
There was no hesitation on your part. Just a single movement of your arms, tossing the old shirt hanging from your upper body across the room to join his. As simple as that, you sat bare before him, chest heaving with every deep breath you took in.
âI was already yours. I always have been,â there was only certainty in your tone as you held his gaze. âSpeak the words youâve been afraid to speakâŠthatâs why I came to you. Because if this is the end of the world, I needed you to know that I love-â
He didnât let you finish your words. His next kiss was anything but gentle.
Messy, spit coating your lips as Johnnyâs tongue seemed to invade your mouth and every one of your senses, his lips devoured yours as if you were his first meal in decades. He kissed with the hunger of a starved man, his hands grasping at every part of your skin they couldâyour waist, your hip, before finally your ass. The squeeze he gave to your skin, the uptick in heat you felt as if he was burning himself just slightly hotter on purpose, had another moan tumbling from your lips and into his mouth.
The hand still gripping your ass tugged you upward on the bed until your head fell against the silk pillows at the headboard. Your hands never left Johnnyâs hair, carding through the strands as you frantically kissed him back, addicted to the feeling, as his hips ground into yours. That bulge in his pants pressed heavenly into your core, the friction rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you let your head fall to the pillows with a moan.
Johnnyâs lips were everywhere. From your jawline, to your neck, until they finally reached your collarbone. He lavished you with his lips, tongue running over your skin as his hands trailed up the sides of your lower abdomen, stopping just as they reached the swell of your breasts.
âSince the day you walked in, Iâve thought about this,â his voice was raspy, the words barely understood as they were spoken against your skin. âSince the moment Reed introduced you to us.â
âI-I was wearing a lab coat,â you choked on your words as Johnnyâs lips reached your sternum, trailing kissing down your chest, but never where you wanted him. âHardly sexy, Iâd argue.â
âIt is when Iâm picturing you in that coat and your heels, and nothing else,â he tacked on, before his lips wrapped around your nipple without warning.
You mewled at the sudden contact, one hand returning to his hair on instinct as your back arched off the bed and into him. Johnnyâs hand on your abdomen was quick to push you back down, holding you down against the bedding beneath you.
God, with the fire that felt like it was burning through your body, you couldâve sworn that Johnny had caught you on fire. His teeth just barely grazed the sensitive bud in his mouth, a sharp intake of breath leaving your lips on instinct. He was quick to soothe you, tongue swirling around the erect and sensitive bud with rapt attention. A moan slipped through him, felt through your entire body, as your other hand tore into the bedding. Desperate for something to hold onto. Something to ground you in your pleasure.
âIâve dreamed about you under me. Kissing you, tasting you, loving you,â his practically purred out every single word, tongue flicking back and forth over your sensitive nipple. He moved to the other one easily, delivering the same rapt attention to it.
âIâve thought about you, too,â you relented, divulging every secret you held dear to the man who lavished every inch of you in love and adoration. âIn the kitchen, the lab, in that stupid button up from earlier-â
âI knew you liked that shirt. Wore it just for you,â his husky tone sent another shot of pleasure through you, heat curling through every inch of your body.
The tips of his fingers trailed lightly down your stomach. When Johnnyâs head lifted for just a moment to lock his eyes with yours, that familiar smirk on his face, you werenât given a second to react before heat poured through his touch.
Gasps mixed with moans of pleasure fell from your lips on instinct, that unnatural heat of his pouring through his touch and into your skin. Every movement of his fingers over your ribcage and down your abdomen felt as if it was leaving your skin on fire, branding his touch into your skin so that you would never forget the feeling. Burning him into your memory so that you would always feel the phantom sensations of his touch on your skin.
âYouâre absolute perfection, you always have been,â Johnny moaned into your skin, lips trailing over the mounds of your breasts with another series of a thousand kisses. Those heated fingers dipped past the waistband of your shorts, pressing directly against your clothed clit without a warning. The moan you let escape mixed in the air with the moan that tumbled from Johnnyâs lips against your skin. âJesus Christ, baby, youâre so soaked.â
The heat was still there in his fingers, setting off every little nerve ending in you even through the soaked fabric of your panties that you desperately wanted gone. Your hips ground up into his hand, whimpers falling from your lips as you chased after the feeling of him, desperate for friction.
âAll for you,â even this hint of pleasure had you stumbling toward the edge, babbling almost incoherently. With a tug to his hair, you were quick to bring Johnnyâs lips back to yours, arms wound around his neck. He gave into your needs immediately, devouring you in a kiss as heated as his touch was, fingers rubbing slow circles over where you needed him so desperately. âPleaseâJohnny, please! Please, I need you. Need youâneed you so bad.â
âI got you, baby. I got you. Keep moaning my name like that, and Iâll give you the worldâ
Those whispered words stayed on your lips, lingering, as Johnny left you. His touch wasnât gone long. Fingers curling into your shorts, they were discarded across the room in a flash, panties gone with them as well.
For the first time, you laid completely bare in front of the man you lovedâthe man you denied loving for so long. And Johnny Storm was a mess. His hair stuck up in multiple directions, skin flushed, but he was still beautiful. The most beautiful man youâd ever met, inside and out.
Johnny didnât give you a second to truly breathe once he was done admiring you. He sprawled out along the end of the bed, head dipping between your thighs, as he licked a single stripe with his flattened tongue directly up your center.
âFucking beautiful, and all mine,â his words were growled into your core, two fingers lazily moving between your folds and spreading every ounce of wetness around, holding you open so he could see every inch of you. âSweeter than I ever dreamed you could be.â
He dove into you like you were the only thing that mattered. Fingers spreading you open, giving him access to every square inch, his mouth devoured you. A cool drink of water for a starving man in the middle of the desert. Johnny moved his tongue with precise expertise, as if he knew exactly what your body craved.
Delving into you, flicking back and forth as he drank in every secretion of arousal that dripped from you. That same tongue dragged its way up to your clit, swirling around in figure eights, flicking back and forth.
Cries fell from your lips wantonly, hands digging into his hair. Eyes fluttered shut, head tilted back to the ceiling, there was only one word you could repeat over and over again: Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.Â
His name was all you knew anymore, too lost in your own bliss and pleasure.
In one fell swoop, your thighs were settled over his shoulders, before his head was back where you wanted it more than anything. His lips and tongue focused on your clit, still swirling back and forth, as his fingers dipped slightly lower, dancing right across your opening.
It started with one long, slender finger sliding into you. One of your hands was forced to leave Johnnyâs hair, falling over your own mouth to try and conceal the cry that threatened to burst from you, afraid that the others would hear you.
âLet me hear you, baby,â he laughed against your core, his finger curling just perfectly against your walls as they clenched around him every time he dragged his finger back and forth. âWant to hear you.â
âDonât want toâfucking hell, Johnnyâlet the others hear,âÂ
âLet them. Let them hear me love you,â
Fuck Johnny Storm and his stupid lines. His stupid dirty talk that had your walls clenching around him again and again.
Another finger joined the first, followed by another, before you were stretched as wide as you could be around Johnny. The squelch of your juices rung through the air with every move of his fingersâdragging so deliciously into you, curling up, before dragging out just to the edge of your opening. His mouthâgod, his mouthânever let up, lapping away at your core like it was his job, what he was meant to do.
That coil of pleasure deep within your lower body came out of nowhere, sneaking up on you just like your love for this man had.
âJohnnyâbabyâI canât. I canâtâIâm gonna-â
âLet go, darling,â came that growl in his voice again, the speed of his fingers increasing. âI got you baby, let go.â
That coil snapped in seconds after he spoke. The precipice of your orgasm was earth-shattering, like youâd never felt before. Like trails of fire through your veins, the pleasure coursing through you had your head buried into the pillow behind your head, desperately trying to conceal the wails of pleasure that tumbled from your lips. Your thighs snapped shut around Johnnyâs head, but his ministrations never let up as he eagerly drank up every bit of your arousal that leaked from you.
The come down was slow, like waking up. Your breath was uneven, heart beating erratically when you finally pulled your head from the pillow. Eyes bleary, it took a moment to blink them back to life.
Johnny stood at the edge of the bed, discarding his pants and boxers to the pile of clothing littering the other side of the room. And even in your fucked-out, blissful state, one look at him for the first time had that burning desire coursing back through your veins.
He was big. There was no way around it, no denying it, no other way to put it. Flushed, hanging with that beautiful reddened tip, one large and prominent vein throbbing along the edge of it. Beads of precum collected at the tip, his hand smearing it down along his length as he gave himself one single pump before he was crawling back onto the bed.
Johnny knelt between your legs again. Even with limbs that felt like Jell-O, you met him halfway, dragging yourself into a seated position. It was the smile on his face right now, the one erupting those butterflies once more, that you decided was your favorite: soft, adoring, loving.
It was your hands that cupped his cheeks, bringing him into a soft kiss. The taste of you lingered on his lips, sweet just like he said. You poured every ounce of emotion into your kiss, trying to convey to him the years youâd spent loving him so quietly that you couldnât admit it.
âI might be addicted to you, Johnny Storm,â your words were mumbled into his lips. He laughed so gently, stealing another peck.
âGlad you finally caught up with me, princess, Iâve been addicted since day one,â
Pressed to him, his lips stealing a thousand pecks from yours, the lust in your bones was back in full force. All you could do was hum in response, one of your hands trailing down his chest, nails dragging slowly over his abdomen, before you finally took his throbbing cock in your hand.
He felt even bigger than he looked, which didnât even make sense in your mind. But he was hot, the skin searing into your hand in the best way. You gave him one squeeze, one tug, and you smiled at the hitch in his breath. The twitch of his cock in your hold.
Johnnyâs hand quickly grabbed yours, though, unlatching it from him. All you could do was shake your head, practically whining as you tried to take your hand back.
âJohnny-â
âGod, itâs so hot how eager you are to touch me,â he laughed again, tilting his head to leave a single kiss to the column of your throat. âThis is about you, doll. Save that for next time. It can be a âwelcome home from spaceâ gift for me. A âthanks for saving the worldâ gift, if you will.â
Space.Â
That word was enough to have your next words caught in your throat as the weight of everything came crashing back down on you. The threat, the herald, the space launch commencing in a matter of hours now, the events that brought you here in the first place.
You werenât sure when you started crying, when a single tear slipped down your cheek, but Johnny caught it. Eyes full of concern, but understanding, he simply wiped the tears from your cheek, laying a kiss to the wet splotch of your skin.
âNo crying, none of that. Just lay back, baby,â
You listened, letting his hands guide you gently to rest back against the pillows once more. Parting your legs, Johnny placed himself between them, holding himself up over your body on his forearms. Right where he belonged.
Your hands rested on his chest, sliding up so gently to his neck. His eyes never left yours, his length sitting right against your soaked and sensitive core, gliding back and forth with each gentle twitch of his hips.
âYou didnât let me say it earlier. So let me say it, for the first time outloud,â you gave him a watery smile, lips quivering as you looked up at him. âI love you, Johnny Storm. Iâve loved you for so long. Iâm sorry it took the world maybe ending for this, that I didnât let myself be yours sooner.
He smiled, that same charming smile he always did, as he rolled his hips once more. His cock caught just along the edge of your opening as Johnny dipped down, breath fanning over your lips.
âLike you said: youâve always been mine,â
The first press of his length into your core stung. As wet as you were, as prepared as you were for him, it had been so long. He stretched your walls little by little, taking his time as your body adjusted to him. Then, inch by inch, he sunk within your walls that clung to him tightly.
His cock bottomed out, sunk fully within you, bare hips pressed to bare hips as you both let out shaky breaths. Your nails dug into the hair at the nape of his neck while his hands trailed up your ribcage, squeezing every moment or so as choked out moans fell from his lips.
âGodâso tight for me, babyâyou feel like heaven,â
His name was the only thing you could manage to choke out between your moans as he dragged himself back to the tip, before burying himself again to the hilt. Your moans, your cries and the way your hands threaded into his hair only spurred him on more, Johnnyâs hips snapping into yours again and again and again.
His lips found yours amidst every snap of his hips, every drag of his cock against your walls. Every moan that slipped through your lips was drowned out by him, by the feverish movements of his lips against yours. They trailed away, back to your neck, leaving a trail of saliva connecting you together as he bit another love bite into the side of your neck. It didnât matter to you how this would look to others, how scandalous you might look in the light of day to others.
All that mattered was Johnny Storm.
âOh god, Johnny!â your head fell to his shoulder, teeth sinking into his skin as his hips snapped against yours over and over, driving him deeper with every thrust into you. âHoly fuck, w-why werenât we doing this for years?â
âBecause youâve been a stubbornâfuckâlittle tease all these years,â his tongue dragged up the column of your throat, peppering kissing up and down your skin as his cock dragged against your walls. âBent over your workstation in the labâoh godâyou donât know how many times Iâve thought about it. Thought about walking in and taking you right there, making a mess right at your desk.â
âR-Reed would walk in and youâd scar him for life,â
âSounds like a win-win to me,â there was shared laughter, punctuated with a shared moan as his cock dragged right against that spot nestled within you. âAnd try not to talk about my brother-in-law when Iâm fucking you.â
There was no time to reply as Johnny scooped up your wrists in his hand in a single motion, pinning them down above your head. He adjusted your waist, suddenly driving into you at a new angle that had you mewling his name all over again.
Johnny whispered your name into your skin with every kiss, timed just so with every snap of his hips against yours. That coil of heat was burning, wounding itself tighter and tighter for the second time that night. All you could feel was him, was Johnny.
His warmth, the heat that burned off of him. It warmed your skin, it had beads of sweat dripping down your forehead. It was uncomfortable in the best way. His one hand still trailed up and down your ribcage, every so often tweaking your sensitive nipple between his thumb and index finger and coaxing another moan of pleasure from you.
He worshiped you, every inch of you, like you were the greatest thing to ever grace the earth. To him, you might have been
âFucking perfect, baby. Fucking made for me,â his lips found yours again, slick with spit as his tongue dipped into your mouth to taste every inch of you possible.
His stroke faltered, the rhythm uneven, and you knew he was close. That coil of heat in your stomach was threatening to snap any second every time his cock pulsed and throbbed within your walls. His grip on your wrists was tight, even as you struggled against him, desperate to just hold him.
âJohnnyâbabyâplease I-Iâm so close-â
You choked on your words once more, the hand still trailing across your stomach heating up again, leaving a burning trail of heat in your skin. Those heated fingers found your clit like it was second nature, a cry of pure pleasure leaving your lips as they circle that bundle of a thousand nerves over and over again, hips still snapping into you as quickly and desperately as they can.
âLet go,â his voice was husky, eyes blown wide as he looked down at you. Your wrists were finally let go, your hands immediately finding their place in the strands of his hair again as his free hand cups the back of your neck, smashing your lips into his in a flurry of moans. âLet go, baby, let go.â
Your second climax burned hotter than the first.
The pleasure burned so hot, so bright, you were practically sobbing, every cry and moan of pure bliss muffled by his kiss. Your legs locked around Johnnyâs waistâtightlyâso tight he could barely move away from you. It was overwhelming, the shockwaves of bliss that ran through your veins, the shaking of your thighs as you held onto his hair like itâs a lifeline.
He ground himself into you over and over, rhythm so far gone he was struggling. But all it took was your lips lazily finding his neck, teeth sinking in to leave your matching mark to his, for his hips to still as he spilt into you.
Johnny breathed out every moan into the side of your head, your name tumbling from his lips along with a flurry of swears. The grip he had on your hip was bruising, so tight you think he could snap the damn bone if he held any tighter. And his cock? Seated so deeply inside of you itâs as if you are one, heat pooled within your lower abdomen with every wave of cum that filled you to the brim.
On the other side of the room, the record was still playing softly. Bright lights still flashed by the windows every so often, crews still at work on the spaceship set for launch by mid-morning.
None of it mattered in the silence of the bed.
You arenât sure how long either of you laid there. Your heartbeat, eventually, returned to normal, even as your chest still heaved to take in every breath that it could. Johnny still laid half on top of you, pressing repeated kisses to the side of your head, but said nothing. Your hand stayed in his hair, carding through it, as your core pulsed. It would ache come morningâhell, it already didâbut it was worth it. It was so worth it.
Neither of you were quite sure when he pulled out of you, or how long you simply laid there and basked in the afterglow of a moment that shouldâve happened years ago.
Eventually, Johnny shifted down. His lips trailed down your body in worship, like theyâd done already that night. From your cheek, to your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, and down your lower abdomen.
âCarefulâŠnot sure Iâd survive a round three,â your voice was hoarse, mouth dry. Johnny laughed against your skin, still kissing every inch he could see.
âI donât think I would, either,â
His hands were heated once more, but not for the same purpose as moments before. Now, his touch was gentle, massaging every piece of you that he could get his hands on. His thumbs rubbed into your wrists, your waist, and your hips, digging into the muscles. A sigh escaped you at the comforting feeling, taut muscles loosening at the feeling of the heat and the movement of his hands.
With every kiss pressed to your skin, you could feel it: Johnny was humming. It didnât take long to know which song he was humming, which lyrics: that same song once again.
I guess I'll never know the reason why, you love me as you do. That's the wonder, the wonder of you.
âIs that our song now?â you laughed, even if your heart was clenching at the mere thought. The mere idea of that song belonging to the two of youâthe idea that Johnny Storm belonged to you.
You could feel his smile against your abdomen as he spoke. âIt should be. Itâs accurate. Because I donât ever think Iâll get over the miracle that is youâŠloving me.â
Itâs not a miracle. What you really want to tell him is that falling in love with him was so easy, you barely realized you had done it. It might be the easiest thing youâve ever done.
Johnny crawled back up your body, slotting himself onto the bed beside you, before tugging you in. Thereâs no hesitation on your part, simply curling into his side with your head over his chest and arm slung around his waist. Words arenât needed in the silence, not when youâve both clearly laid everything out on the table now. Instead, you just listened to the beat of his heart, the natural rhythm that lulls you into a state of peacefulness.
Heâs yours. Johnny Storm is yours. Heâs always been yours, you just didnât know it.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, hand cradling the back of your head as he said his next words confidently.
âWeâre going to go up there tomorrow, and weâre going to stop this guy. Weâre going to protect this Earth, like weâve sworn to do. But me? Iâm going to do it so I can come home to you, and love you for the rest of my life. I promise,â
He canât promise that, you knew he couldnât. There was no telling what might happen when that ship took off tomorrow, what they might encounter, or who this Galactus really was.
But Johnny Storm loved you. For now, in the quiet of the night, just between the two of you, thatâs enough.
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