Summary: You knew Ben would come back from that mission a changed man. You just didn’t realise how much he would change.
Word count: 7.4k
Tags and warnings: Fluff and angst, happy ending (Ben deserves it!), reader and Ben are married, reader is she/her, no use of Y/N.
(I’m honestly still floored by how kind people have been about my Ben fics. I didn’t think many people would read them, but I adore Ben, and apparently so do a lot of other people, so I had to write some more. Title is from The Lightning Strike by Snow Patrol.)
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If you had to describe your marriage in one word, it would be…
Different.
For starters, not everyone can say that their husband is an astronaut. But then, it isn't so strange, considering how the two of you met.
Ben had joined the training program, fresh from his years as a pilot. Your job was to help monitor the candidates through the program as they underwent the gruelling trials of simulation tests and medical checks.
You had lost count of how many candidates had to be ticked off the list due to motion sickness alone. The less you let yourself think about it, the better.
So many of them would stride in with their chests puffed out; arrogant little boys with something to prove, and leave less than a week later, completely defeated. The place was practically a revolving door.
So when Ben arrived, you weren't expecting things to be much different. But he surprised you.
About a month would pass before you’d be introduced to him properly, beyond computer screens and clipboards. You sat in the cafeteria one afternoon, trying to catch up on the next chapter of your book. Trying being the operative word. The room was essentially a free-for-all, and some idiot in management had thought that everyone should have the same lunch hour every day - including the new recruits, who, despite being fully grown men, were more like monkeys in how noisy they were.
You’d read the same paragraph four times at this point. It was a lost cause, really, but you were nothing if not persistent. Maybe you’d strike lucky on the fifth attempt.
"D'you mind if I sit here? Or would you rather have some space?" asked a voice.
You grimaced, peering up over the top of the book to find one of the trainees standing in front of you. You wanted to be annoyed at him, but he at least had the decency to look apologetic for interrupting you.
You gestured towards the chair across from you. "No, go ahead," you replied politely.
He gave you a grateful smile as he sat down. “Thanks.”
He looked across the room, to where the rest of them were engaged in a rowdy conversation that was beginning to border on an argument.
"It's a bit too much over there for me," he confessed, lifting up the latch on his metal lunchbox.
You smiled. "I thought you fly boys loved all that."
He shook his head. "Not me," he said.
He busied himself with arranging the contents of his lunchbox on the table in front of him. Sandwiches, cut perfectly into four triangles, two chocolate brownie squares, and a blue check flask. It was all so neatly prepared and wrapped. You found yourself wondering if his wife had packed it for him.
A chorus of shouts suddenly erupted from the other table, and the two of you glanced over, distracted. He shook his head with a small smile.
"Maybe ten years ago," he said. "Not now."
You set down your book. “Y’know, I have to admit, that’s kind of refreshing to hear,” you told him.
“Oh, yeah? How’s that?” he asked.
You lightly chewed at the inside of your cheek, trying to find the right words. "It's just...Well, no offence, but you all have a bit of a reputation,” you said, almost apologetically.
He just shrugged, unwrapping his sandwiches. "None taken. Besides, I couldn't take offence even if I wanted to."
He jerked his thumb over to where the rest of the trainees were now flicking spoonfuls of Jell-O at each other.
"They wouldn't exactly be helping my case, would they?" he asked.
You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. His eyes met yours then, and you felt your cheeks flush a little. Now that you were able to get a better look at him, you could see that he was handsome in a different kind of way. He wasn’t normally the type of guy that would catch your eye right away, but there was definitely something about him that was drawing you in.
"I'm Ben, by the way," he said. "I don't know how many of us meatheads you actually remember in a day, and honestly I don't blame you."
You laughed again, shaking your head. "Just the ones who don't make my life a living hell."
“I hope I’m on that list,” he said lightly.
“Very small list, but yes, you are,” you replied, still smiling.
“Well, good. Glad to hear it,” he said warmly. “I’d hate to think I was causing you any unnecessary stress.”
He turned his attention to his lunch then, and you found yourself unable to find any interest in yours. You were trying not to stare, really you were, but the more you looked at him, the more you found yourself unable to look away. He had a smattering of freckles that ran along the length of his nose and across his cheeks, and his eyes were a gorgeous shade of blue.
Your face still felt warm.
“You want one?” he asked suddenly.
You jumped, a rush of heat travelling down your spine. God, you hoped he hadn’t caught you staring. How embarrassing would that be?
“Huh?” you asked intelligently.
He gestured towards the brownies. “Do you want one?” he asked again, a little slower.
“Oh, no, I don’t wanna be stealing your lunch,” you replied quickly.
You could hear your voice wavering. Was there a rock nearby that you could crawl under?
“Nah, you’d be helping me, if anything,” he said, seemingly none the wiser. “I think one’s gonna be more than enough for me.”
He slid a brownie across the table to you before you could say anything else.
“You don’t have to butter me up, you know,” you said.
It was supposed to be a joke, but it came out a little sharper than you meant it to, and you found yourself cringing.
“That obvious, huh? Damn,” Ben replied, smiling at you.
You busied yourself with the brownie. If he kept looking at you like that, you were going to end up saying something stupid, and you were already pushing it as it was. You took a bite, and it took everything in you to strangle the noise that threatened to slip right out.
It was good. Really good, and you told him as much.
“You think so?” Ben asked.
You nodded enthusiastically, and he laughed.
“Thanks. I made them myself,” he said. “Been doing a lot of baking lately. I, uh, tend to spend as much time in my kitchen as possible when I’m stressed. And this place would give me ulcers if I let it.”
You didn’t expect him to be so honest. Even with your job, you knew how stressful it could be, so you could only imagine what he was going through. Maybe you were a bit too quick to judge the howler monkeys at the other table.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, this has gotta be the best brownie I’ve ever had,” you told him earnestly.
Ben chuckled at that. “Really? Well, I’ve got plans for a cake soon. I could pack a slice for you, if you want.”
And that was how it started. More and more, Ben would ask if he could sit with you at lunch, until eventually he’d just sit down, no questions asked. He’d ask you about the book you were reading, and when you were finished, you’d lend it to him. Almost every day, he’d bring you something that he’d made. Brownies one day, a slice of cheesecake the next.
You were starting to forget what work was like without him. It was nice having him around.
A few weeks later, he asked you out to dinner, and you agreed without hesitation. There was no point in lying to yourself, you really liked him, and it was becoming harder with each passing day to pretend that you didn’t.
Everything after that felt like a dream. He introduced you to his best friend, Reed, and not long later, you met Reed’s wife, Sue, and her brother, Johnny. You’d have dinner with them almost every Sunday night, and before long, his little family became yours too. Seeing how happy you made Ben, they welcomed you in without a second thought.
Along the way, they told you about Reed’s plans to build a spaceship, and Ben admitted that he’d promised to pilot it whenever it was finished. You’d even seen some of the blueprints. It was an exciting prospect, but if you were honest, you never took it entirely seriously. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe that it could be done - you knew Reed was a genius, and you’d seen first-hand just how skilled Ben was - but even so, it just seemed so far-fetched. And if it were to happen, surely it would still be years away.
Strange as it might sound, even knowing what Ben was training for and your own job, there was a part of you that found it hard to believe that space travel was even really a possibility. It all still seemed so futuristic - maybe you’d fully believe it when you actually saw it. And maybe if there was a part of you that still held some disbelief, then you wouldn’t have to deal with the thought of Ben risking his life like that.
That there would be nothing to worry about.
When he asked you to marry him, you were already saying yes before he’d even finished the question. Somewhere in the back of your mind, that worry only grew bigger, but you kept pushing it aside.
It wasn’t important. Not right now.
The ceremony was small, with only the people you cared about most in attendance. You couldn’t have asked for more. It was perfect.
And now, here you are, with a little place of your own together to call home. Things feel as if they can’t possibly be any better.
But then, it’d be too much to ask for everything to stay the same, wouldn’t it?
It’s late when Ben comes home that night. You’d gone to bed a few hours earlier, too tired to wait up for him. If anything was wrong, he’d have called. Besides, you trust him, probably more than anyone else in your life.
You stir from your sleep as the bed dips, strong arms sliding around your middle as Ben gets himself comfortable next to you. He feels warm against your back, and you can faintly smell his cologne.
No one’s ever made you feel safer. He feels like home.
“Sweetheart? You still awake?” he whispers.
You hum faintly in response.
“Sorry I’m so late getting back,” he says softly. “Reed had something he wanted to tell me.”
You place your hands on his arms, eyes still very much closed.
“I’ve, uh, I’ve got something I need to tell you.”
You snuggle closer to him. “In the morning, honey,” you manage to reply, voice thick with sleep.
You vaguely feel Ben press a kiss to your shoulder, before you drift off again.
The next morning, you wake up alone. You can hear noise coming from the kitchen, and as cosy as you are, the smell wafting down the hall is more than enough to drag you out of the warm cocoon of blanket you’ve made for yourself.
You make your way to the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, where you find Ben, already dressed and making enough food to feed a small army. Two frying pains sit on the stovetop - one with eggs, the other with hash browns. He’s in the middle of clearing up a small pile of squeezed oranges next to two glasses of juice, as the toaster pops.
Something’s not right. You know better than anyone how much Ben loves cooking, how it relaxes him, pulls him out of his head and lets him destress. Right now, it seems like he’s anything but relaxed. There’s a nervous energy surrounding him that you couldn’t ignore even if you tried.
“Ben?” you call softly.
He jumps, spinning around quickly to face you.
“What are you doing up already?” he asks. “I was gonna bring this to you in bed. Go on, shoo.”
You open your mouth to protest when he’s pulling the tea towel from his shoulder and gently swatting at you.
“Okay, okay, I know where I’m not wanted,” you say with a little laugh.
“You are wanted!” he calls after you. “Just not in here. I’ll be in in a minute!”
You roll your eyes fondly, climbing back into bed. But that nervous feeling still gnaws at you. Ben comes in a few minutes later with a large tray in hand. He carefully places it down on the bed, sitting down next to you.
“And before you say anything, I don't have my shoes on,” he says with a smug smile, getting himself comfortable.
You glare at him, but you’re trying so hard not to smile too. “Alright, you’re learning,” you say. “After five years.”
You turn your attention to the tray, where Ben has piled two plates with more food than you know what to do with. You place one of them in your lap, as Ben passes cutlery to you.
“What’s the occasion?” you ask lightly.
He shrugs, lifting a piece of toast.
“No occasion,” he says. “Just wanted to do something nice for you. Since you do so much for me.”
You hum in reply, cutting up the hash browns into too small pieces.
“That’s sweet of you. What’s the real reason?” you ask.
You turn to him as you take a bite. He almost chokes on his toast.
“It’s not- I’m-" he stammers, hitting his chest with his fist to clear his throat.
You say nothing, just staring at him. You can wait all day, and he knows that.
“God, alright. Stop giving me that look,” he grumbles, wiping at his mouth.
You let your expression soften.
“Look, I, uh, I wanted to tell you last night,” he starts. “Tried to, if I remember-”
You reach out to take his hand in yours.
“Ben,” you murmur. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, okay?”
He nods, for a bit too long. He’s trying to figure out how to tell you what’s on his mind. You know him too well.
“I was home late because of Reed,” he finally says.
“Is everything okay?” you ask, concern in your voice.
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just…He had something he needed to talk to me about. Something important.”
He stops again, not quite sure where to look. You give his hand a gentle squeeze.
"He's, uh, well, I mean, we're, uh- Jesus, okay,” he says, stumbling over his words. You can tell that it’s frustrating him. “Let me start over. So you know Reed's been working on that ship of his for years. Has been since before I knew him. And, uh, he told me last night that it's done."
"Done,” you echo. “As in…?"
"All of it. Planning, construction, the whole thing. It's ready to go. And he still wants me to pilot it. I mean, I'd promised him when we were in college, but back then, I kinda thought it was a joke, y'know? I know the guy's a genius, but I never thought...Christ, I never thought..."
He trails off. He looks as though he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. You’re not sure if you’re faring any better. None of what he’s saying sounds real. And that fear, the one you’ve been trying to run from for the longest time feels as though it’s suddenly looming right over you like a terrifying shadow.
"What did you say?" you ask, clearing your throat to try and hide the waver in your voice.
"I, uh..." He falters.
"You said yes."
Ben finally meets your gaze, with a guilty expression.
"I...Yeah, I did,” he admits quietly. “And I know I should have talked to you first, because obviously this is a big decision, and I'd be gone for a while. And then there's the risks, y'know? There’s so much to factor in and think about, I get it. Believe me, I do. But this is also what I've been training for for years. And I know you're mad, and you have every right to be-"
"Honey-"
"I know I should have called. No, I should have told Reed I'd think about it and come home to-"
"Honey-"
"-talk to you, because really, it's not just me I gotta think about anymore, is it? It's us. And you mean the world to me, sweetheart, you really do, and-"
"Ben."
He stops suddenly, his mouth still half-open. You smile at him, squeezing his hand again.
"Can you take a breath?" you ask, your tone teasing.
He looks down with an embarrassed chuckle. "Sorry, I'm just nervous."
"About the actual mission, or about telling me?"
"Uh, probably the second one a little more, if I'm honest,” he admits.
"Am I really that scary?" you tease.
Ben quickly shakes his head. "No, no. God, no. It's just...You mean so much to me, baby."
And you can tell by his voice, by the way he looks at you, that he means every word of it. There’s no doubt in your mind about that. There never has been.
"And this does too,” you reply softly. “Like you said, it's what you've been training for. And I'm not gonna stand in the way of that. I knew this day would come eventually. Sure, part of me kept hoping it wouldn't, or maybe you'd go back to being a pilot.”
There. You’ve finally said it.
“But are you really any safer in the sky than in space? It doesn't matter if I'm gonna be worried either way, right? So you might as well be happy."
He grimaces at your words. "Sweetheart-"
"No, I know. That came out wrong,” you say, shaking your head. “I just- I just mean that I want you to follow your dreams. You'd want me to do the same, right?"
Ben looks as though he's about to argue with you, but he stops himself. "Yeah. Yeah, I would."
"So you’ve gotta do the same.”
You pause for a moment, to let yourself take a breath. You can’t start crying, not right now.
“And I'll be right beside you, every step of the way. And when you're up there? I'll be calling you every damn name under the sun for making me worry so much about you."
Ben laughs at that.
"And I'll be there waiting for you when you get back,” you tell him.
"To call me all those names to my face?" he asks.
You give him the widest smile you can muster. "You know me so well."
It’s strange, now that it’s all out in the open, the air somehow feels both lighter and heavier at the same time. There’s one last question you need to ask, and a part of you doesn’t want to. Maybe if you don’t have the answer, it won’t happen.
Wishful thinking.
“When do you leave?”
“Reed’s got a few more tests to run first, and then there’ll be a couple of debriefings, to make sure everyone’s ready before we head up there, but uh…if everything goes to plan, it’ll be a few weeks.”
Weeks.
Suddenly that looming shadow feels as though it’s thrown itself over you, wrapping around you like a thick blanket, trying to steal the breath from your lungs.
You swallow, tilting your head back to try and hold your tears in, but it doesn’t seem to matter what you want right now, because they’re sliding down your cheeks anyway. You hear the clatter of Ben moving everything out of the way as you squeeze your eyes shut, and then he’s pulling you tightly into his arms.
“I’m so sorry for upsetting you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble against your ear, where it lays against his chest. “You just say the word, and I’ll tell Reed the whole thing’s off. I’ll stay right here, I promise.”
You shake your head as best you can, clinging to him harder. “No,” you manage to croak out. “I’m not letting you do that.”
“But-”
You force yourself to pull away from him, looking him straight in the eye. “No,” you say again, more insistent. “Now you listen to me, Ben. I am not going to be the reason you don’t follow your dream. Call it selfish, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
You swipe at your eyes with your sleeve, frustrated. This would be a lot easier if your voice would stop wobbling.
“Promise me something,” you say.
Ben nods. “Of course. Anything.”
You can feel yourself about to choke on your words, but you force them out anyway. “Promise me you’ll go.”
You hold up your hand before he can even think to say anything.
“Don’t. Whatever it is, I don’t wanna hear it. Just…promise me. Please?”
Ben still seems as though he’s desperate to argue with you, but he manages to hold it in.
“Okay,” he murmurs. “I promise.”
You try to give him a smile, however reluctantly, before letting him pull you into his arms again. You’re not sure how long you lie like that, with your head tucked under his chin, listening to his heartbeat thud steadily against your ear.
All you know is that you don’t ever want it to end.
The next few weeks feel as though they pass by in a blink. Ben keeps his promise to you, but insists that you’re not kept in the dark about anything. He makes sure to tell you everything that’s going on - every plan, every debriefing, he even has Reed show you the ship itself. You can hardly believe what you’re looking at, even with all the equipment you’ve worked with yourself. It’s like something from a movie.
You’ve been reassured about as much as you possibly can be, by all of them. And you trust them, of course you do, they’re your family. But until they all come back in one piece; until Ben’s home, safe and sound in your arms again, you’re not going to stop worrying, no matter what they say.
“You know, I think I’m a little jealous of you,” you admit to Sue one afternoon.
She sits across from you at your kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a lilac mug of coffee. She tilts her head, brow knitted slightly.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“I mean, you’re going up there with them,” you explain. “It might sound crazy, but I think part of me would rather risk my life and know what’s going on, then sit down here and wait, you know?”
Sue nods with a smile. You’ve known each other long enough now that you can say pretty much anything to her and you know that no offence will be taken. It’s a comfort that you never take for granted.
“Can I be honest with you?” she asks. “That’s part of the reason I’m going. Beyond the obvious, of course. I’ve spent so many years training for this too. But I know what you mean. I think I’d lose my mind down here.”
She reaches across the table, placing her hand over yours.
“I think you’re braver than I am,” she says, and you can’t help but laugh, even with the lump beginning to form in your throat.
You’ve burst into tears more times these past two weeks than you have in your entire life, and to say it’s been frustrating is an understatement. Thankfully, you seem to have gotten it under control around Ben. Mostly.
“We’re gonna be okay,” she murmurs. “And I know we’ve been telling you, and each other, and ourselves that over and over, but I mean it. Everything’s been tested, checked and rechecked so many times now, I’ve lost count. We wouldn’t be doing this if we weren’t sure.”
You know all of this, but something about Sue’s voice, and how warm and soft her hand is on yours, seems to settle your nerves. Even if it’s only temporary, you’ll gladly take that tiny bit of respite.
The night before the launch rolls around far sooner than you’d like. Everyone agreed to take the evening off and rest up - even Reed, although it took a lot of persuading. You’d had dinner together the night before, and Ben had insisted that tonight, he wanted to be at home with you.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” you’d joked. “With all the crying I’ve been doing lately?”
“I’d rather be at home with you in my arms, crying all over my sweater, then not be with you at all,” he’d replied, so earnestly that it had taken everything in you to stop yourself from bursting into tears all over again.
He hadn’t planned anything special, and honestly, that made it even more special to you. Besides, you’d rather treat it like a normal night together. Anything too over-the-top, and you’d start worrying again. At least this way, you can kid yourself in thinking that tomorrow’s just another day at the office for you both, and not possibly…
The less you think about it, the better.
He’s gone before you wake up. You don’t know when you finally fell asleep, but you must have at some point. It’s better this way, and you told him that. Less chance of you suddenly changing your mind and begging him to stay.
It doesn’t stop him from calling you that night, though.
“You’re gonna laugh, but I already missed your voice,” he admits, a little sheepishly.
You smile to yourself. No one makes you feel as special as he does.
“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” you ask.
“I’ll be honest with you, the jitters are definitely kicking in now,” he replies. “But it’s exciting, you know? I can’t believe it’s finally happening.”
You curl the cord of the kitchen phone around your finger absentmindedly as you let him talk. The line crackles as Ben chuckles.
“You’re doing it again,” he says.
“Doing what?” you ask, none the wiser.
“That thing you do with the phone cord when you’re worried. It makes the line cut out a bit. You’re doing it now.”
You immediately untangle your finger from the wire, embarrassed.
“It’s gonna be alright,” he tells you gently. “I’ve got some of the best people going up there with me, and we’ll be back before you know it.”
You chew your lip, plucking at the tablecloth to stop yourself from fidgeting with the cord again.
“Look, I gotta go now, but I’ll call you the minute I get back. The time will fly by, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”
He pauses for a second, and the line crackles again as he takes a breath.
“I love you.”
Tears suddenly spring to your eyes, and you tilt your head back to keep them from spilling over.
“I love you too,” you reply as best you can.
There’s a muffled sound, followed by a click, and then he’s gone.
You sit there for a few moments, holding the phone to your ear as the dial tone drones on.
He’s gone.
The days after he leaves begin to blend into each other. The morning of the launch, you barely budge from the couch, your eyes fixed to the TV set. You might not trust yourself to be there at the site itself, but that doesn’t stop you from flicking back and forth through the channels to watch the different news reports. They’re all variations of the same thing, but it soothes your fears the tiniest amount all the same.
You keep telling yourself to leave it alone, that sitting around in a constant state of worry like this isn’t going to help anything. You know Ben would be so mad if he knew you were neglecting yourself because of him. But you can’t help it. What if something happens? What if you miss something?
And then something does happen, and rather than feel vindicated, you’re terrified. The news coverage is an absolute mess of blurred video and constantly changing information. Half the city’s been blocked off by the authorities, and you know it doesn’t matter who you are, you’re not getting through without getting arrested.
So you sit, and you wait. Hour after hour after hour. You’ve never been more scared in your entire life.
What the hell is happening?
When the phone finally rings, you’re half-dozing on the couch, completely exhausted from waiting, and you almost trip over one of the dining chairs in your haste to answer it in time.
It’ll be no one, you think to yourself, just some telemarketer or a wrong number. But what if-
“Hello?” you say, pressing the phone a little too hard against your ear.
“Oh, thank God, I’m so glad I caught you. I was worried you wouldn’t be home.”
It’s Sue. Your stomach drops.
“Sue? Is everything okay?” you ask immediately. “I’d seen the news, but no one’s been in touch. What happened?”
You're rambling, you know you are, but the nerves that have been eating at you for days now are finally getting the better of you.
"I know, I'm sorry we didn't call,” she replies. “It's been...Well, it's been a lot since we got back. It wasn't the return trip we were hoping for."
She laughs then, trying to sound light, but it seems forced.
"Is everything okay?" you ask again.
Is he okay?
"It's..." She sighs. "Everyone's back in one piece, don't worry about that. It's just...Something happened up there. We've been running tests all night, trying to figure out what exactly. But the important thing is, we're safe. Ben's safe."
You let out the breath you didn't even know you were holding. But something still isn't right.
"You said something happened while you were up there?" you ask tentatively.
"Yeah, it...It'll be hard to explain over the phone. Maybe it would be best if you came down to Reed’s lab. We've been cleared of anything contagious, so you'll be safe."
Safe? What the hell happened?
You nod to yourself nervously, eventually realising that Sue can't see you.
"Okay," you say at last. "Okay. Sure. I'll be there as soon as I can."
When you put the phone down, you suddenly can't bring yourself to move. Your feet feel as though they're stuck to the floor, your limbs locked in place. Panic starts to rise in you, your heart hammering against your ribcage like you've been running a marathon.
You have to move. You have to.
You need to see if he's alright.
When you arrive, Sue’s already waiting for you. It hasn’t even been that long, but considering the state you’ve been in lately, it feels as though it’s been forever. You rush over to her, throwing your arms around her and pulling her close. She hugs you back, and you hear her let out a shaky sigh over your own stifled sob.
“It’s okay,” she murmurs, her hand running along the length of your back. “Everything’s okay.”
And for that brief moment, you could believe her. When she eventually pulls away, the overwhelming worry settles over you again.
“A lot of what I’m about to say is going to sound crazy, but I need you to trust me, alright?” she asks.
You nod, clutching one hand in the other in the hopes that your tremors will stop.
“While we were up there, we got caught in a storm,” she explains. “It was nothing we could have predicted, or prepared ourselves for. It…changed things. Changed us.”
“Changed…? What do you mean?” you ask, confused.
Sue grimaces. “It might be better if I showed you. Please try not to panic, okay?”
She holds her hand up in front of her face, and your eyes widen in disbelief as it slowly begins to disappear, before reappearing again like nothing ever happened.
“Oh my God,” you breathe.
That’s only left you with more questions than answers.
“So- So, you can all…do that now? Is that it?” you manage to ask.
She shakes her head. “As far as we know, it’s different for all of us.”
“What happened to Ben?” you blurt out.
Sue opens her mouth, but she hesitates, as if she’s struggling to find the right words.
“Follow me,” she says, holding out her hand.
You tentatively take it, letting her lead you inside and down the hall, where she stops in front of a door.
“Ben’s just through here,” she tells you. “Don’t worry, he’s okay. He just thought it might be easier this way.”
Your brow knits in concern as you look at her. “I don’t understand,” you reply.
She gives your hand a gentle squeeze with a small smile. “There’s nothing to worry about, I promise. He’ll be able to explain it to you better than I can. Just…don’t expect him to be the exact same as he was when he left.”
You stare at her, your nerves completely frayed. She gestures to the intercom button next to the door.
“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” she says, attempting to reassure you.
It’s not working. You turn to the door. Your finger hovers over the intercom button, before you finally find the courage to press it.
“Ben?”
There’s a beat of silence, before you hear him call your name. The sound of his voice sends a sudden wave of emotion crashing over you.
“Yeah, honey, it’s me," you force yourself to say.
“Did you talk to Sue?” he asks.
“Yeah. She’s right here. She told me what happened.”
You hear him sigh. “I doubt that. Or you wouldn’t still be here.”
“Ben, what are you- Of course I’d still be here.” You shake your head in frustration. “Look, I- I can’t do this out here. I’m coming in.”
You release the button and reach for the handle, opening the door before fear gets the better of you.
Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this.
There’s a table in the centre of the room, and at one of the chairs sits a large pile of rock.
A large pile of rock that looks like it's smiling at you.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
That voice- That's-
And then it hits you. You clap your hand to your mouth, eyes wide with shock.
“Ben?” you dare to ask, your voice muffled.
He nods, scrubbing a hand down his face. You can't believe what you're seeing. What you're hearing. How is this- It can't be-
But it is. There's no mistaking that voice. Those eyes.
No matter how bizarre this whole situation is, how he looks now, there's not a doubt in your mind that this is your husband.
“I knew Suze hadn’t told you everything," he mutters, frustrated. He peers up at you with an apologetic expression. "Yeah. It's me."
You manage to take your hand away from your mouth, and you can feel yourself trembling.
“What…happened to you?” you ask.
Ben shrugs. “The same thing that happened to everyone else," he replies, with a humourless laugh. "I just pulled the short straw, apparently.”
None of this makes any sense. How could a storm do this?
“Are you…" you falter, gesturing awkwardly towards him. "Does it...Does it hurt?”
Ben shakes his head. “Not anymore, no. Not physically, at least. Thank God for that.”
The room suddenly feels too hot, and your tremors are quickly turning into full-body shaking. It doesn't make sense, how-
“Oh my God…” you whisper, and the room feels as though it's starting to spin.
Ben jumps to his feet, immediately rounding the table to you. He carefully takes your arm, guiding you into a chair.
“Hey, it’s okay," he says softly, his hand still on your arm. "You just sit there, alright? Last thing we need is you fainting.”
He kneels down in front of you, and neither of you move for what feels like the longest time. You can't take your eyes off him, and you find yourself staring at him for so long that he doesn't seem real anymore. Your eyes start to fill with tears, and you slowly reach your hands out to him. He doesn't move, letting you trace your fingers across the lines and cracks of his face. His skin - if you can call it that - feels smooth to the touch.
"You don't feel cold," you murmur, still dazed.
"Like a rock that's been out in the sun, right?" Ben replies with a chuckle. "That's what Johnny said."
How can he find it in him to laugh right now? And yet, here you are, laughing along with him.
He gently places his hands over yours. He's so much bigger now, and you feel so small in his hold.
"I'm sorry it wasn’t me that called," he says. "We've been so busy running tests and making sure everyone's okay." He gives you a wry smile. "Well, beyond the obvious. And then..."
He trails off, and he can't seem to look at you anymore. His eyes are full of so much sadness. You softly rub your thumbs across his cheeks, in the hopes it'll comfort him in some small way.
"And then...?" you prompt.
He lets out a shuddering breath, leaning into your touch. It takes him a while to gather himself again. You don't rush him, letting him take as long as he needs.
"And then, I...I got scared," he admits, his voice little more than a whisper.
"What were you scared of?" you ask.
He finally brings himself to meet your gaze, and you wish he hadn't. The look in his eyes is enough to break your heart.
"I was scared that...you'd see me like this and..."
Your eyes widen as you realise what he means, and you shake your head before he can finish.
"Don't you dare," you say quietly. "Don't you dare, Ben Grimm."
Your voice trembles, but not with fear.
With anger.
"When I married you, I made a promise that no matter what, I would be by your side. It hasn't always been easy, I know that, but we talk to each other, we apologise when we mess up, and we do better. Because we know, deep down, even at our worst, that there's nothing we can't face together. And I've held onto that for as long as we've been together, and it's never failed us. Not once."
You give yourself a moment to collect yourself before you press on. You can't let him interrupt you. Not now.
"I love you. So much it hurts. I wake up every morning and think I must be the luckiest woman in the world. Because I get to wake up next to my best friend, and every day, I get to make more memories with you. So don't you dare think that this is going to change that. Because it won't. Because it doesn't matter how you look. You're still my husband, and you're still my best friend."
You blink hard, desperate to hold yourself together.
"You're still Ben. My Ben."
You lean in to kiss him, and that's when the dam breaks. You burst into tears, and he pulls you close to him. He doesn't feel the way he used to anymore, but it doesn't matter, because he still holds you the same as he always did. One hand across your shoulders, while the other gently strokes your back. You rest your palm against his chest, and you can feel his heart beating, as strong as ever.
He's here. He's really here, alive and safe and home.
"I'm so sorry I ever doubted you, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice a soothing rumble against your ear. "I just...I just got so scared. I mean, I can't even stand to look at me right now, and I didn't want you to have to. I'm not...This isn't what you married."
You pull back to meet his gaze.
"And I was five years younger back then. So I guess I'm not what you married anymore either," you say, trying to be light-hearted despite everything.
Ben gives you a look - the one that says 'that's not what I meant and you're being ridiculous'. And even through your tears, you can't help but laugh. He's changed so much, and yet that look - the one he's been giving you for years - it's still somehow the same.
"I know what you meant," you tell him. "But I'm right, and you know I'm right. I knew when I said yes that you weren't going to stay the same. Neither of us would. We'd get older, greyer. We'd change. And the thought of that made me so happy, because it meant I’d get to spend the rest of my life with you."
You take a little breath, to steady yourself.
"Can I be honest with you?" you ask softly. "Really honest?"
Ben nods, his gaze intense as he watches you.
"I've always had this fear that you would die young. I knew when we got together that this might be a possibility. And I thought about it. A lot. There have been so many nights where I lay awake, wondering if this was the right thing to do. But then I...God help me, I fell in love with you. And I had to accept it, as best I could. That if I lost you...Well, at least I’d had that time with you. But it still scared me so much. And now that you're back, I...I'm just so relieved that you're alive. It's still you."
You place your hands in his, pulling them into your lap as best as they’ll fit.
“Reed’s been up all night, trying to figure out how to fix all this,” Ben says. “If it can be fixed. We don’t know yet.”
“I need you to listen to me,” you tell him.
“I am-”
“No, really listen to me,” you say firmly. “If whatever this is can be reversed, and you can go back to the way you were before, I’ll be here with you. And if not, if this is the way things are now, then I’ll still be here. Not out of pity or obligation, or because I feel sorry for you. Because I love you. I love you so much, and I’m never going to leave your side.”
You keep your gaze fixed on him the entire time. You need him to know that you mean every word of what you say.
“And if…If the day ever comes that we decide it’s what’s best for each other, then that’s okay. We’ll figure it out. But it’ll never be because of this. Never. So please don’t shut me out because you're scared. I couldn’t bear it.”
Ben sits there quietly, at a complete loss for words. After a while, he nods, letting his fingers close over your hands. He’s so gentle in how he holds you, and you know that it’s because he’s afraid of hurting you.
As if he ever could.
“Do you know when you’re allowed to leave?” you ask.
“I’m not sure,” Ben replies. “There doesn’t really seem to be much else Reed can do right now. So far, there’s nothing that he’s overly concerned about. I mean, besides the obvious.”
“Then come home with me,” you say softly. “Please. I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too, sweetheart,” Ben murmurs. “Like you wouldn’t believe. You’re the one thing that’s kept me together through all of this. Even though I was terrified of you having to see me like this, the thought of seeing you, seeing your smile again…That’s what’s been getting me through.”
You manage to pull yourself to your feet, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders. You stay like that for a while, neither of you saying a word. It’ll all take some getting used to - for both of you - but you have your husband back, safe and sound, and right now, that’s all that matters.
You’ll figure it out together, as a family. Like you always have.
If you had to describe your marriage in one word, it would be different. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Description: Bad cramps don’t let you sleep. You hesitate to call Johnny because you think you’re not there with him yet, but after nothing helps, you give in. Turns out having a boyfriend with fire hot powers comes very in handy.
Tags/warnings: no spoilers, fresh relationship, hurt/comfort, johnny is full of himself and surprises, putting his powers to good use, flame on, banter, he sucks at making breakfast, fluffy and domestic johnny <3
Note: I literally can’t stop kicking my feet when writing this man, please enjoy another self indulgent sweet and funny piece 🫶🏼
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You curl tighter on your couch under a weighted blanket, shifting again and again, as if the next position will finally trick your body into forgetting the ache burning low in your stomach. It doesn't.
The cramps continue, a deep pressure that makes it impossible to find comfort. You've been like this all evening, a pad you heated way too long ago now laying useless on your lower belly, a half empty mug of tea forgotten on your coffee table, and the soft glow of the moon coming through the glass doors illuminating your tired face. It's well past midnight now, and you feel frustrated with your own body for not being able to get up to your bed, or at least just fall asleep right where you are.
You think of Johnny.
How easy it would be to press the little button on the watch he gave you, send him a quick message, and have him there. But your stomach knots for a different reason at the thought. He doesn't need to see you like this, cranky, bundled in mismatched pjs, curled up like some wounded thing. At least your ex boyfriend never wanted to deal with... this. The unglamorous parts.
Surely, in the short period of time you've been dating Johnny, he has proved a million times he's better than any other excuse of a guy. Every single one. Which is probably why you feel the need to keep things romanticized in some way.
You've spent nights with him before, heavenly late hours tangled in his sheets, or sleepovers at your place that stretched into lazy mornings. But those nights had always been planned to some degree. Wearing cute little shorts, soft perfume, or maybe nothing at all if things got heated, which was pretty often to be fair. But always with a little polish, a little effort, like you were still trying to show the best version of you.
Cramp.
You roll over, again, and tug your blanket higher. Try to gaslight yourself into believing you're fine. But the wave of pain twists through you, sharp enough that you press your face into the cushion to muffle a groan. Your chest tightens and you suddenly feel small.
Alone.
Your arm comes out of the blanket and your fingers drift to the watch on your wrist before you can stop yourself. You trace the smooth edge of the screen, remembering how proud Johnny was when he put it on you the first time, like he'd just given you the most thoughtful thing in the world. And he did, he meant it to make you feel safe, connected, never too far away from him.
Johnny it is, then.
That’s what you needed. Just him, next to you, being warm, and solid and distracting enough to pull you out of the spiral of despair. Your finger hovers over the screen for a few seconds and finally, after another wave of pain, you give in. One press and a ping gets sent to Johnny, all the way to the Baxter Building.
It's quite comical when you think about it. Johnny likes to call it a superhero signal, in case you ever need him. Just like right now.
Wait– but what if he's already asleep? What if he just reads it in the morning and–
The screen lights up almost immediately. A ping vibrates softly on your wrist with his reply.
"On my way."
It's interesting how just a few words from him, on a screen even, already give you some relief. You lay tucked in, eyes on the ceiling as you wait for his arrival. And before you know it, you hear those familiar soft footsteps on your balcony, followed by the hiss of the glass door sliding open.
You glance up eagerly, and there he is, Johnny Storm in all his sleeping clothing glory.
A soft white shirt with some blue striped pants, blonde hair sticking up in every possible direction from where he must've rolled out of bed, and that signature, charming smile on his face when he caught you bundled up on the couch.
He doesn't even wait for you to speak before stepping inside and crouching in front of you, one knee pressing into the carpet, his hand going up to gently brush some stray strands of hair off your forehead. The teasing smile softens as soon as he sees your face.
"I was starting to think you forgot about me," he jokes about not seeing you all day, still trying to make it light, but his eyes give him away.
They're worried. Worried that you've been feeling sick all day and didn't tell him, worried that you're curled up like this without him knowing.
"Why didn't you call me sooner?" he tilts his head, as his hand continues to stroke your hair.
You open your mouth, but your throat closes around the answer. You don't know how to explain the mix of embarrassment and stubborn independence. So instead, you shrug weakly.
"I guess ... I didn't want to bother you. It's just.... it hurts and I can't sleep, and–"
"Hey," he cuts in gently, thumb brushing over your temple. "C'mere," he leans forward in his crouched position, pulling your upper body straight into his chest. He's so warm it feels unfair, his arms wrapping around you like all day you should've been there. "You could never ever bother me, you need me and I'm here, end of the story."
You bite your lip, the edges of your embarrassment softening under the warmth of his voice. He pulls away just enough to look at you, trying to coax a smile out of you.
"Besides, if I knew you'd be curled up like a burrito in this blanket, I would've been here hours ago. You're basically begging me to make fun of you," he teases, earning a snort from you.
You try to tug the blanket higher over your face, but he only laughs and tugs it back down, playful, his fingers brushing your cheek. "There she is," he says softly, eyes searching yours. "My girl."
You smile, about to say something but another cramp tenses your body, and Johnny immediately pulls you to him again, your cheek over his heartbeat. He doesn't let go right away, you stay pressed against his chest until you stop clutching his shirt. Only when your breathing steadies, Johnny pulls back to study your face, his eyes narrowing in that way that makes you feel completely seen.
"Alright, sweetheart" he whispers, cupping your face. "Tell me how bad it hurts."
You gesture vaguely at your stomach, cheeks heating. "It's just... cramps. Really bad. I just wanted you here ...you don't have to–"
"Stop," he kisses your forehead before you can finish. "I do have to. It’s literally my only purpose as your hot, lucky boyfriend."
That earns a soft laugh from you, probably the first in hours, and he smiles satisfied.
"I'm gonna need you to wait here for me," he backs slightly to stand up, but you grab his hand.
"Wait, Johnny don't leave–"
"It's only a few minutes, alright?" he reassures, and only stands up when you nod hesitantly and drop his wrist. "Don't miss me too much, I know you like to see my face and all that–”
"Johnny, just go..." you chuckle, and he grins wider, saluting his way out the balcony.
The room feels colder as soon as he's gone, and you realize how his absence feels like missing sunlight. Like all day you've been lying under a cloud of rain. But sure enough, the cold doesn't last longer than five minutes, when he's landing back again with a triumph smile on his face as he makes his way to your kitchen.
You stare curiously from the couch at Johnny moving swiftly through it, with a raised hand in flames to illuminate the countertop. You hear cupboards opening, the soft clink of a mug being set down, and being filled with water. He rips open with his teeth a paper package he pulls from his pocket, placing the tea bag in the water. He makes his way back to you carrying the mug in one hand, as the other lowered his fire to just one flame under the mug to instantly heat it up. You sit down just in time as he arrives, a steaming cup of tea now in his hands, the scent instantly soothing.
"Careful, sugar" he smiles, handing the hot mug to you, "and ... take these," he reaches the pocket of his striped pants, pulling out a small plastic pill bottle.
"Painkillers haven't been helping much," you shake your head, sipping from your tea. He just kneels in front of you again, so he can be on eye level.
"These are special ones Reed made specifically for my sister, since she deals with pretty bad cramps too," he explains, opening the bottle and pouring two baby blue pills on his hand before handing them to you. "The tea is also his mixture, Sue says it helps a lot."
You stare at him in silence, melting in awe. You can't believe you had convinced yourself all day Johnny wouldn't want to deal with this. He does have a sister after all. And he's been raised right, partly by her. So you nod, taking the pills with a sip of tea, and set the mug on your coffee table before wrapping your arms around his neck. Your lips meet his, and it feels like you've been stupidly depriving yourself of your oxygen. He's soft with it, slowly savoring it like he's been missing you all day too, smiling against your tea flavored lips when he pulls apart for air.
The movement made the blanket around you fall open, revealing the heating pad lying crooked on your low belly. Johnny doesn’t even doubt.
"Trade me, babe" he says, taking the cold pad away before slipping his hot hand against your lower belly. The relief on your face is instant, like it was the last missing piece. "Let's keep that there, and drink this before I have to spoon feed you, because I will." he mocks seriousness, picking the mug from the table, guiding it to your lips.
You happily take a sip, smiling against the mug. "Since when are you so bossy?"
"Since you forget to take care of yourself," his tone is teasing, but his eyes are soft, lingering until you take another sip, so you do.
"Better?" he asks, half smug half relieved.
"Better," you nod, not even able to control your smile anymore. "You are ... simply the best, Johnny Storm," you praise wholeheartedly, starting to forget about the pain.
"I know, I know," he rolls his eyes playfully, lifting up from his crouching position without taking away his hand, before gesturing to your side. "Now, your portable heating pad's knees hurt, scoot."
You move over amused, and he sits next to you, his free arm instantly curling around your shoulders. His body always radiates heat, steady and overwhelming in the best way. You can't help but relax, your head finding its way to his chest as you sip the last of the tea.
"So much for a superhero," you tease now, making him gasp in feigned offense.
"This is after hours, babe," he defends, "besides, I've proven myself to be very useful," to make his point stronger, he takes the empty mug from your hand and places it away.
"Oh you have, fire boy," you nod, playfully placing a kiss on his chest as a thank you.
"See? You could've had this hours ago if you'd just called me," his hand rubs soothing circles along your arm. "And I mean it ... I wanna be here for you. All of it. Even this. Especially this."
"I know," you whisper, hugging him tighter, the ghost of a smile on your face. "I know, Johnny."
You cuddle in silence for a while, the pain quickly drifting away from the medicine and Johnny's unbelievable heat. Your hand slipped under his shirt a while ago, tracing patterns on his toned skin.
"You know what..." he breaks the silence, and you recognize the spark in his voice. "Forget space travel. I could make commercials about this. 'Tired of cramps? Get a Johnny!’”
"Yeah? I'm sure Ben would love to see that," you shake your head laughing, patting his chest but he catches your hand, lacing your fingers with his. "Lucky for me, I have my Johnny already," you lift your chin up to look at him.
"Yes, but yours comes with extra features," he wiggles his eyebrows, while his mouth keeps running just to coax more giggles out of you. "I'm just saying... heating mode, snuggle mode, horny sex god mode–"
"You're so full of yourself, Johnny."
"Why thank you," he kisses your temple, obnoxiously sweet. "Full of snacks, too. I also brought gummy bears," he says, and you tilt your head to find his smirk.
"You did not."
"Check my pocket," he nods excitedly, and you reach over his pants, accidentally grazing his crotch. "Wow–wow, not that pocket!"
You can't help but snort, reaching the right pocket this time. Sure enough, there's a little crinkled bag tucked inside. Your chest warms almost as much as your belly does under his palm. Johnny looks far too pleased with himself.
"See? I even brought candy to your midnight pity party" he says, already reaching the bag to grab two gummies. He pops one in your mouth before eating one himself.
"My pity party? I hate you," your offended voice comes out muffled from chewing the gummy.
"Except you love me," he shrugs smugly, reaching for more gummies to do the same again. One for you, one for him.
And damn this idiot, you do. Especially when he tilts his head to peck your lips, lingering with the candy's leftover sweet taste. You eat a few more in silence, only giggling when he attempts to throw one and catch it in the air and fails miserably, only for you to get it at the first try.
"Alright, alright ... that's enough," he crinkles the bag and puts it next to your empty mugs on the coffee table. "Sue would kill me if she sees me eating candy right now."
"You're just saying that cause you lost–"you attempt to tease, but a yawn takes over your voice, your eyes inevitably narrowing.
"I'm saying that because you need to rest," he corrects, already getting up. "C'mon, sweetheart, we're doing this right" he slides one arm under your knees and another around your back. "This couch isn't good enough for you."
The blanket stays wrapped around you, tucked close to your chest, while his warmth radiates through your whole body as he walks to your bedroom. He nudges the door open with his foot, and in a couple of strides reaches the bed. He lays you down softly, and places a kiss your forehead that makes you smile. For a second, he just looks at you, messy hair, tired eyes, and you swear he couldn't look more in love.
Then, without warning, he starts tugging the blanket away.
"Hey!" you protest, clutching it tighter around you. "Johnny, I need that," you complain, but he just smirks, leaning over you.
"Wrong! You got me now. I'm waaay better than some blanket."
"You gave me this blanket."
"Yeah, well, now I'm taking it away," he shrugs, smiling condescendingly.
You groan, half laughing, trying to wrestle the blanket back, but he wins easily, tossing it onto the floor with a winning grin.
"There. Much better," he says, and before you can complain about him washing it, he slides in beside you, embracing your body with his.
The heat of him hits immediately, wrapping you far warmer and softer than the blanket ever was. His arm goes around your waist, palm flattening over your stomach again, radiating that gentle, steady warmth. The way you relax into his body makes him smile.
"See?" he mumbles against your hair. "Told you, babe, way better," he tugs you closer to his chest, pulling the covers of your bed over you.
One hand stays over your stomach, spreading heat exactly where you need it, while the other strokes slow, soothing patterns down your back. You listen to his heartbeat for a while, the rhythm grounding you more than anything else has all day.
This isn't another night where you prepped yourself the whole day to smell like literal heaven when he tasted your skin. Tonight is different. You're in mismatched faded pjs, hair undone, tired face. And he doesn't look at you like you're any less. If anything, his eyes are softer, more focused, like this is the you he'd been waiting to see.
"You know," he says after a long silence, voice getting lower with sleep, "this is my favorite look on you."
"I look awful," you groan, burying your face in his chest.
"Yeah, awful ... totally hideous. Which is why I'm keeping you forever," he chuckles, like it's a joke, but his words always hold more meaning to them.
You lift your head just enough to meet his blue eyes. The way he’s looking at you makes you realize this might be the most intimate night you’ve ever shared. And you’re happy.
Johnny can feel it. The way your body melts against his, the way your breathing evens out. And then suddenly your eyes are fluttering shut, lips parted slightly.
“Sleep babe, I got you,” he whispers, pressing a feather light kiss to your forehead.
And with his body pressed against yours, his heartbeat steady under your ear, you finally drift off. Safe, held, and cared for in every way that matters.
The first thing you notice when your eyes blink open is warmth. Not just the weight of his arm still around your waist, or the way his chest rises steady beneath your cheek, but the faint heat radiating from his palm, still exactly where it had been all night, like he never once let go. You shift, slow and careful, and he feels it.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Johnny mumbles, in his deeper morning voice. You tilt your head just enough to see him, his blonde hair even messier than last night, eyes heavy lidded and a lazy smile. “How you feeling?”
“Mmm, it doesn’t hurt,” you hum, snuggling into his chest.
“Told you, babe. Human torch heating pad, runs all night and never shuts off,” he drawls, joking even when he’s still half asleep.
You chuckle, and try shifting out of his arms, just enough to stretch, enough to maybe get up and get cleaned up. But the second you move, Johnny makes a low groan in his throat, instantly clinging tighter.
“Nope,” he mumbles. “I’m still in service. You can’t get up yet.”
You laugh softly against his chest. “Johnny, I need to–“
“Shhh,” his nose nuzzles into your hair, lips brushing the your head. “Don’t argue with Johnny.”
There it is, the third person his family always mocked him about. It should be ridiculous, really, but it’s also so him that your heart squeezes. He’s lying there with messy hair and the bedsheets wrinkles imprinted on his cheeks, clinging to you like it’s the best place he could be in, and somehow you love him more for it.
So you don’t argue, you don’t tease. You just let yourself sink back into him, curling closer, your hand finding its way under his shirt to rest against his warm skin. His grip softens a little at that, enough to let you breathe, but he doesn’t let go.
“That’s better,” he beams, satisfied. “Knew you’d see reason.”
Your laugh bubbles out before you can stop it, and you happily melt into his arms. Eventually, after a while of drifting between sleep and squinting at the soft sunlight coming through your windows, your stomach betrays you. It growls loud enough that Johnny finally cracks one eye open and smirks.
“Hungry?” he teases.
“Starving. I only had those gummy bears last night,” you shift against him, trying to sit up.
“Nope,” he says, gently holding you back down. “You stay. I’ll bring you something,” he orders, already rolling out of bed like he wasn’t in deep sleep just a few minutes ago.
“Johnny, angel, I love you but … you’re a literal fire hazard in any kitchen,” you look at him apologetically as you sit up.
“Excuse you, haven’t I proved by this point you’re in good hands?” He presses a dramatic hand to his chest, pretending to be wounded. You just raise your eyebrows at him, so he leans forward to press a kiss right between your frown. “I love you too, by the way.”
You bite back a smile, shaking your head. He makes his way to the door now, hair sticking up, crinkled shirt, striped pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He stops to point at you before walking out. “Don’t move, breakfast in bed.”
You smile with tight lips, pretending to be excited until he turns around and you can flop back in bed, knowing this is going to be a disaster. Because as ironic as it sounded, he’d been close to burning down your kitchen before. You guess he’s just not used to the fact that only the Baxter Building was fireproof from head to toe.
As expected, when your stomach wins out and you walk into the kitchen moments later, the first thing you see is Johnny leaning over the stove, hand glowing as he absorbs fire out of the frying pan. Smoke curls toward the ceiling, and the smell of something close to charred fills the air.
“What are you doing?” you lean in the doorway, arms crossed as you bite back a smile.
Johnny straightens instantly, tucking the pan behind him and airing out the smoke with his hand like that’ll somehow help. Unfortunately for him, when he moved the pan behind his back, a fried egg, or what used to be one, flops onto the floor. Suspiciously black, yet his grin is far too casual as he steps in front of it to hide it. “What? Nothing to see here. Everything’s under control. Breakfast is almost ready.”
“Uh huh,” you arch a brow, trying not to laugh.
He sighs defeated, placing the pan back on the counter and leaning to pick up the burnt ‘breakfast in bed’ from the floor. He mutters a curse as he throws it away, only to turn to you right after like nothing happened.
He lifts his hands up smiling, holding his index fingers up as if to say ‘wait up’. He goes through your cabinets, letting out a small cheer when he finds what he was looking for.
“Lucky for you, sweetheart… you got your very own Johnny Storm cereal,” he pulls out the box, holding it with one hand and pointing his face on the cover with the other. “Only the finest, of course. Your favorite.”
“That’s your favorite,” you argue, narrowing your eyes.
You think he’s about to protest but he’s too busy shoving his hand inside the box, eyes opening wide in excitement as he reaches what he was looking for. The mini human torch that came in the cereal.
‘Flame on!’ ‘Flame on!’ ‘Flame on!’
“Got another one for your collection, babe!” he beams, already walking over to the shelf display on your living room.
He finds the other identical plastic toys lining up there, and adds a third to your surprisingly growing collection. You shake your head as he strolls toward you all happy.
“Now you have three Johnny’s,” he cheers, his hands instinctively going to your waist when he reaches you.
“I have four,” you correct, draping your arms on his shoulders to bring in him close enough to almost kiss. “You’re my favorite one, though.”
Lovely divider by @enchanthings
Thank you so much for reading! feedback is always appreciated 🫶🏼
I know I said this Johnny and Sue moment being cut from First Steps is my villain origin story, but this scene being cut as well is also part of that villain origin story.
My biggest grievance with this movie will forever be that they cut a lot of scenes that would have really helped develop their characters and their relationships with each other outside of the Galactus problem.
To a degree, I understand why the movie is the way it is, but it will forever frustrate and upset me knowing that there was more and we’ll never get to see it. Especially for Johnny and Sue.
Summary: You and Johnny tentatively broach the subject of children. Babysitting Franklin for an evening seems like a good place to start.
Word count: 5k
Tags and warnings: Fluff, broody Johnny, established relationship, babysitting, brief mention of Johnny’s childhood and parents, reader is she/her, no use of Y/N.
(I am the least maternal person on the planet, and yet here I am, writing this. I don't think I've written anything here that the trailers didn't already show, so hopefully there are no spoilers! A massive thank you as always to fellow Johnny sufferer, @getaapologist, for letting me waffle on so much about this idea! Title is from Can't Pretend by Tom Odell.)
Johnny Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || Taglist
“I want one.”
It's late one Sunday evening. Ben had truly outdone himself with dinner, and now you're desperately fighting the urge to fall asleep on the couch. Johnny's voice, close to your ear as it is, rouses you a little.
You turn to look at him. He's resting his head against your shoulder, half-asleep himself.
"Want one of what?" you ask, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.
Johnny lifts his hand, pointing across the room, to where Franklin is currently turning his poor father into his own personal jungle gym.
Your eyes widen. Oh, you’re definitely awake now.
"You know anyone who's giving one away?" you joke, desperately trying to sound casual.
Johnny looks up at you then, his eyes meeting yours.
"I'm serious," he replies.
His voice is quiet, sincere. You narrow your eyes, hoping to spot even the faintest hint of a smirk. A tell-tale sign that this is one of his jokes.
Nothing.
Oh God, he is serious.
You push yourself upright.
"Johnny," you say carefully, trying to find the right words as quickly as possible.
When Johnny gets an idea into his head, Hell freezing over is a more likely possibility than him dropping it. He's persistent. Stubborn. You love him for it.
But this is a different matter entirely.
“You know it’s not all fun and cute little outfits, right? Babies are a lot of work. A lot of work.”
Johnny hasn't said a word. He's really worrying you now.
“It’s sleepless nights and teething and dirty diapers, so many dirty diapers, and-“
You trail off, distracted, as Franklin's happy laughter carries across the room. You and Johnny sit there, unmoving, quiet. Transfixed.
Reed lifts Franklin up, blowing raspberries onto his belly. The sound of his delighted shrieks tugs at something in you.
Something you didn't even know was there before.
You feel Johnny reach for your hand, giving it a squeeze. You don't pull away.
“Tell me you don’t want that,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear.
Before this, you would have. Told him no, and that would have been it. End of discussion. You've never really seen yourself as maternal. If anything, the thought of having children has always scared you.
It still does. But now...
"I can't," you reply softly. "I can't tell you that."
The couch shifts underneath you suddenly as Johnny sits up. You can already feel the excitement coming off him in waves, and you know you have to rein him in, and fast.
"Before you say anything else, we need to talk about this," you tell him.
He opens his mouth, and you shake your head, holding a finger up for him to let you finish.
"I'm serious. This isn't just something we can rush into."
Johnny gently takes your hand in his, holding it tight.
"I know," he replies.
He still sounds serious, which is reassuring, at least.
You nod, taking a breath to calm yourself. Your gaze wanders back to Franklin.
"Let's start small," you say. "And we'll take things from there."
Small, you both decide, is babysitting Franklin for an evening.
You pick a night when Ben will be out visiting friends. You need to know if you can do this together, without any help from anyone else.
After that, you need to suggest the idea to Sue and Reed.
Sue is more than happy to let you look after Franklin. She trusts the both of you, and you know that as much as she adores her son, she's been wanting to spend some time with her husband - just the two of them.
Reed, on the other hand, takes a little more convincing. Even on the night itself, he's still making a fuss.
"I've left the number for Franklin's doctor, and three of the closest pharmacies nearby," he tells you.
You catch Johnny pulling a face out of the corner of your eye, and do your best not to laugh. Reed's too busy worrying to notice.
"Actually, you should just contact me directly, I have all of Franklin's records to hand. Let me just-"
Sue tugs on his arm before he has the chance to go looking for a pen.
"They have the restaurant's number, they can call us there if they need to."
She places her hands on the lapels of Reed's suit jacket, her eyes soft as she speaks.
"But they won't need to, okay? They're adults, we trust them, and Franklin will be fine," she says, her tone calm and reassuring.
It takes Reed a moment before he nods, finally admitting defeat. He fishes a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it to you.
"My pager number, just in case," he mutters, as Sue takes his arm and drags him towards the door, blowing kisses to Franklin as they go.
Johnny takes Franklin's wrist in his hand, making him wave to his parents.
"Don't worry, Reed, he'll be fine," he says.
He looks at Franklin, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"We're not gonna party too hard, are we, buddy?" he asks. "Just a couple of beers, right?"
Reed's about to open his mouth to argue when Sue pushes him towards the door. She shoots Johnny a glare, but she's clearly trying not to laugh.
"Bye, sweetheart," she calls, "Be good while we're gone."
The door closes behind them, and then that's when it hits you. You're doing this. You exhale a tiny, nervous sigh.
It's not like you haven't been left with Franklin before. But this is different, and it's not because there isn't anyone else here. You know Johnny is more than capable of looking after his nephew.
It's the implication. It's what all of this could maybe lead to someday, and that's the part that scares you.
Johnny's clearly none the wiser, his hands under Franklin's arms as he gently swings him around. Franklin shrieks happily, kicking his legs as Johnny makes faces at him.
There it is again, that little tug. Slowly, the fear starts to settle back down.
"Let's see what boring night your dad has planned for you," Johnny says.
He holds Franklin out to you.
"You're in charge of taking care of your auntie for me while I'm gone, okay?" he says, with a wink aimed at you.
He heads to the kitchen, finding the pad of paper Reed had been meticulously writing on earlier. He blows out a breath as he holds it up to show you.
"Have you seen this?" he asks incredulously. "How does she put up with him?"
The page is a mess, of both Reed's instructions and Sue's little notes.
Have fun! : ) is written at the bottom in Sue's writing, under a list of emergency contact numbers in Reed's.
Johnny holds the page closer to his face, muttering to himself as he tries to decipher what he's looking at.
"First up is...dinnertime," he says. "Great, off to an easy start."
He gestures towards the dining table with the pad of paper.
"You guys get yourselves comfortable, I'm all over this."
You raise your eyebrows, but say nothing as you make your way across the room. It's not that you don't trust Johnny, but there's a reason why Ben is usually shooing him out of the kitchen when he's cooking. And it's not just because he's always getting in the way and stealing bites before anything's done.
"Don't worry," he calls, as if he can hear you thinking. "Sue left food for Franklin, and Ben left food for us. I'm not gonna burn the house down, I swear."
You set Franklin in his high chair, sitting down next to him.
"We'll believe it when we see it," you reply, talking to Franklin. "Won't we, honey?"
Franklin's too busy trying to pull your necklace into his mouth, and you gently pry his fingers from the chain.
"Can't hear you, baby, you'll have to speak up!" Johnny says, far too loudly, as he deliberately makes as much noise as possible.
He's an idiot, you think to yourself. It's been a long time since you've thought that about him and meant it with anything other than love.
You concede defeat just this once, letting Johnny make a mess of the kitchen, while Franklin coos and babbles at you. You nod along intently, pretending to agree, as if you have any idea what he's saying.
"Hey, buddy, if you're gonna tell the lady all your problems, at least buy her a drink, huh?" Johnny says, as he goes back and forth with cutlery and glasses.
"You need some help?" you ask.
"Nope, I got this."
And in his defence, he actually does. Dinner isn't undercooked or burnt right through, and the fire alarm is mercifully quiet. He did somehow manage to turn the kitchen into an absolute disaster zone, but you'll worry about that later.
"Why do you look so surprised?" Johnny asks, as he sets the dinner plates down on the table.
"Surprised? Why would I be surprised?" you reply in mock-offence. "That you didn't destroy dinner because you think you can do a better job than the oven?"
Johnny points an accusing finger at you, as he goes back for Franklin's dinner. This is not the first time you've had this conversation.
"Hey, I can do a better job than the oven," he insists. "I just...didn't feel like it tonight."
You roll your eyes, saying nothing as you take a bite of casserole.
It's perfect. As if you would expect anything less from Ben.
Johnny returns with a plastic bowl and spoon in hand. A tea towel is neatly folded over his arm. He stands perfectly straight next to Franklin, setting the bowl down in front of him with a dramatic flourish.
“Good evening, sir,” he says, putting on an approximation of a posh English accent. “Our special tonight is some sort of green slop with carrots.”
You hold your hand over your mouth, trying to hold back a snort of laughter.
“Would you prefer it airplaned into your mouth or would you like to throw it all over the floor instead?”
Franklin reaches for the spoon in Johnny's hand, babbling at him.
“Excellent choice, sir,” Johnny says, as he sits down.
He spoons a small mouthful out of the bowl, and makes a big show of flying it around the air - with all the noises included, of course. As soon as it goes into Franklin's mouth, it comes straight back out, landing all over his bib.
"Come on, buddy, this is the good stuff," Johnny mutters, carefully wiping Franklin's mouth.
He tries again, and the next mouthful goes in easily - before coming straight back out again.
He lets out a huff, giving his nephew an offended look.
"I spent ten whole minutes preparing this for you, and this is the thanks I get?"
He dips the tip of his finger into the bowl, trying it himself. He grimaces slightly.
"You know what? Can't blame you, kid. That's, uh...Yeah, that sure is something."
He turns to you then, holding the spoon out.
"You wanna give it a shot?" he asks.
“What, eating it or feeding him?” you reply with a laugh.
Johnny just waves the spoon back and forth. You take it from him, moving your chair a little more to face Franklin.
“Maybe you’re not a fan of airplanes, huh?” you ask.
You move the spoon through the air, making train engine noises. Franklin watches you, fascinated. He opens his mouth, and the food stays in this time.
You look at Johnny smugly. He rolls his eyes, folding his arms with an exaggerated sigh.
"First point goes to Mom," he says, a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
That stops you in your tracks. Whatever joke you were about to make is gone, and you just stare at him.
“What?” he asks with a quiet chuckle.
You shake your head, turning your attention back to Franklin.
“Nothing,” you reply, trying to sound light.
But it's not nothing, and you know it.
Dinner is a success - no crying, no tantrums, and most of it is actually eaten. Johnny makes a big deal out of checking it off the list, putting a massive tick next to it.
"Step one of 'We can keep a baby alive', done," he says, with a look that's bordering on triumphant.
You shake your head at him.
"What?" he asks, oblivious.
"Don't call it that," you scold. "I need you to take this seriously."
"I am taking it seriously," he replies, right as he sticks his tongue out at Franklin. "When have you ever known me to not be serious?"
It's bait and you know it, but it doesn't stop you from opening your mouth to argue anyway.
"Okay, point taken," he says, before you even say anything. "But I am serious about this."
He looks at you, and God help you, you know he's telling you the truth.
"I promise," he murmurs. "And to prove to you that I'm serious..."
He lifts Franklin into his arms, blowing a raspberry onto his rosy cheek. Franklin squeals, his little hands slapping at Johnny's arms.
"...I am going to take diaper duty. Because someone in this room - not naming names - is getting a little stinky."
Johnny tilts his head, giving Franklin a serious look.
"Can't have your auntie thinking I'm only onboard for all the "cute little outfits", can we?" he says.
He gives you a smirk, leaving before you can say anything. For a moment, all you can do is watch them go, and that feeling from before starts gnawing at you again. You place your hand over your heart, trying to soothe yourself, as you sit down on the couch.
You feel so overwhelmed, and the fear is still there, but it's not just that. You can't explain it, but underneath that layer of anxiety, something else is blooming. Something...nice. It's the only word you can think of to describe it, whatever it is.
Johnny's far less smug when he returns. In a different shirt, you notice. Franklin, on the other hand, looks very pleased with himself. He's now dressed in his pyjamas. You can't help but wonder why.
"I don't wanna talk about it," Johnny mutters.
It takes every ounce of your willpower to stop yourself from laughing. You bite your lip, focusing your attention on Franklin, who's insistently trying to wriggle out of Johnny's hold to sit with you.
"What's next on the itinerary?" you ask.
Johnny checks the notepad again, trying to figure out what he's even looking at.
"Uh...Story time," he reads, with some difficulty.
He scans through Franklin's shelf on the bookcase, tracing a finger along the spines of the books. They vary wildly, from children's bedtime stories to medical journals and encyclopaedias.
Part of you wants to believe that some of them were put there by accident, but knowing Reed, it's intentional.
"I'm all for giving the kid a head start in life, but come on, Reed," Johnny gripes, pulling one of the books out and flipping through it. "Some of these encyclopaedias don't even have pictures in them."
Franklin looks up at you intently, making little noises as if he's trying to tell you something important.
"You're right, honey," you say in a stage-whisper, glancing slyly at Johnny. "We should pick something a bit more your uncle's speed, shouldn't we?"
Johnny glares at you. "Wow, you're ganging up on me now, is that it? Not cool."
He chooses a book - a very colourful, very unacademic-looking one - and plops himself down next to you.
"Is this what's gonna happen when we have our own kid?" he asks, pretending to sulk.
"If, Johnny," you correct.
"Right. If," he replies, with the faintest smile on his face.
He pulls Franklin into his lap, making sure he's comfortable before opening the book.
You prop your head up with your hand, leaning your elbow against the back of the couch, watching him as he begins reading.
You've never really pictured Johnny as a father. It's not so much that you don't think he's cut out for it, it's more that so much of who he is has never quite fit the role, in your eyes. He's impulsive, and downright reckless at times. You can't count how many nights you've stayed up into the early hours, glued to the news with your stomach in anxious knots. He cares, of course he does, but sometimes you think he cares too much. You know how quickly he'd throw his own life away to save someone else's.
You know who he is, you know what you signed up for when the two of you got together, but it still scares you. It's one thing if he doesn't come back to you, but what about your child? How is that fair on them?
You can't change who Johnny is, you know that. You would never try to. Okay, maybe the little things, like his annoying habit of leaving his shoes at the top of the stairs.
But this? This is who he is.
Even if the accident had never happened, you know Johnny would still be out there, risking his life to help other people. It's the kind of man he is. It's what makes you love and admire him as much as you do.
You feel a hand on yours, and you jolt, as if you've just been woken out of a sleep.
"You okay, sweetheart?" Johnny asks softly, with a concerned expression.
"Hm? Oh, yeah, of course," you reply hastily. "I'm just listening to you read, that's all."
You both heard it - the tremor in your voice. Johnny looks at you for a moment longer, before he lets it go, turning back to the book.
That's one thing you've always loved about him - he never pushes you. He knows you'll always tell him what's wrong when you're ready.
"I've never liked when people push me like that," he'd told you once. "I'm not always ready to talk when other people are. So, if you need that space...it's there."
It's hard not to worry. Sometimes it feels like that's all you do. But watching Johnny as he is now, with Franklin in his lap, shifts your perspective a little more.
It's too soon to tell. Far too soon. But maybe...
Maybe things will be okay.
"I think someone's getting a little sleepy," Johnny whispers to you, doing his best not to move.
You look down. Franklin's chin is pressed into his chest, his eyelids fluttering as he tries to stay awake. Both of you sit completely still, watching him as he slowly nods off.
You press your lips together, trying not to laugh at how cute he looks right now. Johnny carefully passes the book to you, as he gently lifts Franklin into his arms and stands up. You follow after him, neither of you saying a word.
Johnny carefully lays him down in his crib, giving you space to pull his blanket around him. He's the very picture of innocence, his hands clenched loosely into fists as his chest rises and falls. Johnny wraps an arm around your shoulders, giving you a little squeeze, and you stand there for a while, basking in the peace and quiet.
It feels like a perfect end to a lovely evening.
And then Franklin's eyes open again.
The two of you look at each other, unsure as to what to do. Maybe if you just stay quiet, he'll settle down again. After a few minutes, Johnny points to the door. He moves no more than an inch before Franklin's face starts to screw up.
Johnny's over by the crib again like a shot, gently shushing him.
"Hey, buddy, it's okay. It's okay. I'm right here," he murmurs softly.
That seems to work, but only so far as to stop him from crying.
"I know you're tired," Johnny says, as Franklin stares up at him with wide eyes. "Your mom and dad will be back soon, and it'd make me look real good if you were fast asleep before then."
He turns to you sheepishly.
"Sorry, it would make us look good," he corrects.
He leans his arms on the side of the crib.
"Come on, little man, you gotta close those big eyes for me. Please? It's so easy, you just gotta..."
Johnny lets his eyelids slowly drop, before closing them completely. He waits for a few seconds. Franklin's still staring at him.
"Man, I'm so tired," Johnny says, through a loud, exaggerated yawn. "Sure would be nice to just...drift off right now..."
He closes his eyes again, placing his hands under his cheek as he pretends to snore, like something out of a cartoon.
He peeks an eye open. Nothing.
Franklin blows a big raspberry, clapping his hands together. He kicks his legs, and his blanket falls away from him.
"Now he's mocking me," Johnny mutters. "Did your dad teach you that?"
He leans over the railing to tuck him back in.
Big mistake.
Franklin's face starts to screw up again. Neither of you are quick enough to stop the tears this time.
"Oh, no, no, c'mon, buddy," Johnny says, scooping Franklin up. "You win, okay? You can stay up as long as you like."
He holds him close, slowly rocking from one foot to the other. His hand gently runs up and down Franklin's back, as he softly shushes him with little murmurs of "it's okay". Eventually, Franklin starts to settle, his fingers digging in the fabric of Johnny's shirt as he sniffles. His red-rimmed eyes meet yours, and you wave and coo at him until you finally manage to coax a smile onto his face.
"There we go," Johnny says quietly.
He turns to you with a wry smile. "Guess someone wants to keep partying, huh?"
You nod. "Guess so."
You head back to the living room, getting yourselves comfortable on the couch again. Franklin sits safely between the two of you, now as alert and happy as ever. Johnny, on the other hand, is starting to look as though he could doze off any minute now.
You lightly poke him in the arm.
"When you said someone was getting sleepy earlier, I think you meant you," you tease.
Johnny clutches at his arm like he's been badly injured. "Watch yourself, Franklin. You don't wanna get on your auntie's bad side. She's vicious."
You glare at him. He sticks his tongue out at you.
"For your information, I am not falling asleep. I'm just...conserving energy, that's all," he insists.
You snort. "I never said you were falling asleep. But thank you for admitting it."
The two of you fall silent, and those thoughts that have been following you around for the better part of the evening start to creep in again. You don't want to talk, if you're honest with yourself, but you know that you need to.
Because this isn't just some throwaway thing.
Having a baby will change everything. You need to be honest with each other.
"How long have you been thinking about it?" you ask.
"Having a baby?" Johnny prompts, running a hand through his hair. "Um...A while now, if I'm honest."
He looks down, to where Franklin's amusing himself by pulling at the feet of his pyjamas.
"I hadn't really considered it before, you know? It didn't really feel like something I was meant for. But then I never thought I was meant for saving the world, and look how that turned out."
He laughs to himself.
"And then I met you. And this little guy came along, and I...God, I dunno. It wasn't until I told you that it clicked. Before that, I hadn't been able to put it into words, how I was feeling. But it's been there."
Johnny's gaze meets yours.
"I wasn't trying to keep it a secret from you. I didn't even know what it was."
"I know," you tell him. "And it's okay, I'm not worried about that. I'm just..."
You pluck at the sleeve of your sweater worriedly.
"I'm scared," you admit.
There. You've finally said it. There's no taking it back now.
"Things will change. A lot of things. And it's not just how my body's gonna change, it's..."
"You're worried something's gonna happen to me," Johnny murmurs.
You nod, blinking hard to stop the tears that are suddenly welling in your eyes. Johnny rests his hand on your knee.
"I wanna be able to promise you that nothing bad will ever happen. I wanna be able to promise you that I'll stop, hang up my suit and call it quits. But I can't."
"I don't expect you to," you reply in a trembling voice. "I just need you to promise me that you'll be more careful. Because if we make this decision, there's no going back on it. It's not just you and me we have to think about anymore."
"I know. Believe me, I know. I've been thinking about it a lot lately. All the bad things that could happen. But I also keep thinking about all the good things too. Deciding on names, putting together the nursery - and yes, I will build the crib myself, unlike some people I could name."
You can't help the laugh that escapes you at that. Franklin laughs too, none the wiser.
"Can I tell you something?" Johnny asks.
"Sure," you reply.
Franklin tries to lean forward to start crawling, and Johnny grabs him, pulling him into his lap and pretending to eat him. Franklin slaps at him, his chubby cheeks turning red with his giggles.
Whatever it is must be serious. You know from experience that Johnny's usually at his most disruptive when he has something important on his mind.
He huffs out a breath, as if psyching himself up. "You know my story. I think everyone does at this point. But you've never really heard it from me, have you? Properly, I mean."
You shake your head. Johnny's not really one for hiding things, but when he gets upset, he tends to distract from it. He's told you things, but he always stops at a point.
"You know what happened to my mom. My dad, he...he did his best, but even though I was only a kid, I could see he was struggling. So Sue stepped up. Y'know, it's funny, there's not that much of a age difference between us, but she practically raised me. And yes, I'm still kind of a big kid, you don't have to remind me, but..."
He falters, pressing a kiss to the top of Franklin's head. You stay quiet, giving him the time he needs. It's hard for him to be this vulnerable.
"I know in my heart that this is what I want. Am I ready for it? Honestly? I don't know. And I don't know if I'll ever know. But I'm willing to try. I'm willing to learn, and make mistakes, and put the work in. Because I know it's not gonna be easy. But when I think about it, I mean really think about it, God, it...It makes me so happy. You know why?"
He reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. His eyes are watering. You aren't faring much better.
"Because I know I'm not alone in this. I've got you. There's no one on this planet that grounds me like you do. And at my worst? You keep me together. You keep me sane. And I...I don't know what I'd do without you."
You can't trust yourself to speak right now. You pull at your sleeve, wiping around your waterline.
"I upset you," Johnny says. "Sorry, wasn't my intention."
"No, it's not that, it's just..."
Franklin's starting to doze off again, his head resting against Johnny's chest. You smile, in spite of the tears still threatening to fall.
"It's like you knew exactly what I needed to hear," you tell him.
"I've never been the best at this sort of thing," he admits. "But I think I know my girl pretty well."
You laugh then, shaking your head. He's impossible, but you wouldn't have him any other way.
By the time Sue and Reed get home, you’re both exhausted. Franklin, on the other hand, is having the time of his life, after his nap of fifteen whole minutes. He’s lying on Johnny’s stomach, pulling at his poor uncle’s worn-out face.
“Hey,” Sue calls softly.
She reaches for Franklin, who’s more than happy to be back in her arms.
“What are you still doing awake, hm?” she coos.
“He won’t let me sleep,” Johnny mumbles, half-sunk into his chin. “Is this punishment for all the nights I woke you up? Because if it is, I’m sorry.”
Sue laughs, balancing Franklin on her hip.
“That’s babies for you, Johnny,” she says. “They’re hard work.”
She leaves to put Franklin to bed, Reed following close behind her. They look so lovely together like that, you think to yourself. A little family.
Johnny tucks himself closer to you, letting out a self-pitying groan. You smile to yourself, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
“You still want one?” you ask, your tone teasing.
He looks up at you, eyes bright with sincerity. Just like that Sunday evening that started all of this in the first place.
"Yeah," he murmurs, his hand tracing tiny patterns along your knee. "I do."
You let out a little breath, to steady yourself for what you're about to say.
"But maybe...Maybe not right now," Johnny says quietly. "We've still got a lot of talking to do, and I wanna make sure this is right. For both of us."
How does he always know?
He moves his hand to rest on your stomach, and you can’t help but smile as you place yours over his.
“But someday, right?”
You nod, looking down at your hands, fingers entwined against your stomach.
summary: following the fantastic four defeating galactus, you're left to confront your feelings at almost losing johnny for good
word count: 1k
cw: spoilers for f4: first steps, established relationship, some angst/big feelings, crying, hurt/comfort, johnny calls u 'babe' 'doll' and 'sweetheart', proofread for once
i have been obsessed w johnny since i was a little kid & i am sososo happy to see him get the justice he deserves on the big screen <3 hope u have a fantastic day!
It’s pouring rain when you exit the doors of the Baxter Building. The sky above you is dark and cold despite the hard won victory of the day. The people flooding the streets to celebrate don’t seem to mind—the world has been saved, the Fantastic Four came through once again—why wouldn’t they be happy?
Your fists clench at the thought.
You find yourself standing on the pavement in front of the looming building. Rain covers you head to toe, enveloping you, drowning you. The cacophony of the cheering crowds in the streets echoes in your ears, only making your headache worse.
You clench your hands over your head but it does little to drown out the sounds.
Someone calls your name, their footsteps masked with the heavy rainfall. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s Johnny, especially given the argument you’d run out on only minutes before.
He calls your name again, louder and closer now. You want to run, whether away from him or to him, you’re not sure. You try to run but your feet are rooted in place. You let your hands fall from your ears and welcome the discordant noise around you.
It only takes another second for him to catch up to you, a warm palm clamping on the wet fabric of your—his—t-shirt. You stay staring at the roads in front of you, at the waning crowds dressed in perfect shades of blue that march further into the city.
You can feel his eyes on you. “Hey.”
You shrug him off, your feet finally moving. You only take a few steps before he’s stepping into your path, blocking your way forward with his chest.
“Hey,” he repeats. “Talk to me. Please.”
His stormy blue eyes are pleading, his hair dishevelled and wet. Exhaustion weighs heavily on his shoulders.
You shake your head. “I can’t right now, Johnny. I just—I can’t.”
Not just because frustration bubbles up on your tongue and minces your words. Not just because your heart wrenches at just the sight of him. But because you almost lost him.
He almost died today. He almost sent himself through a portal to the edge of the universe, never to be seen again. Your eyes sting at the thought.
You knew what you were getting into when you started dating him. You knew that he faced incredibly dangerous threats daily—but nothing ever came close to Galactus. None of them ever came this close to death. Especially not Johnny.
And now that he has, your heart won’t stop cracking in your chest.
Hot tears fall from your eyes, mixing with the rain. “I can’t, Johnny. I can’t.”
He doesn’t argue with you, doesn’t make some stupid joke that has your eyes rolling. Instead, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in as close as possible.
The heat of his body is more than enough to overpower the cold, his arms so tight around you that you can’t possibly run now. Everything you feel—the anger, the frustration, the fear—melts away in the comfort of his embrace.
“Shh,” he kisses your cheek. “I know baby, I know. I’m sorry.”
You shake your head though you’re not quite sure what you’re disagreeing with at this point. Johnny peppers kisses across your cold, wet skin, making his way from your cheek to your jaw and then back up to your forehead.
“I was reckless. I’m sorry.”
He was reckless and stupid, but the thing you’re most mad about is that it was necessary. That it was selfless. That he was risking himself to save his nephew. To save the world.
“I can’t lose you," you admit.
It’s quiet, barely audible. A confession you’d rather not speak, because to let him know how much you need him is to surrender yourself completely, and how can you do that to a man who could disappear at any moment?
He strokes the back of your head, the motions slow and steady and entirely grounding. He traces shapes on the small of your back with his other hand.
“You won’t lose me.” He’s quiet but the certainty in his voice makes it sound like he’s shouting. “I promise you.”
A sob wracks your body, your shoulders shaking. “You can’t promise that.”
“Baby…”
“I almost lost you today, Johnny! I almost lost you and you didn’t even say goodbye and the only reason I didn’t was because of that woman and you don’t even seem to care.”
You’re not sure who is more stunned by your outburst, you or Johnny. For a moment, silence hangs between you as your words hang in the air.
He pushes himself away from you and you suck in a breath. He cups your face, forcing you to look at him.
“Do you know what I was thinking about when I was flying towards that portal?”
You tilt your head at him. Lips parting to ask why only to immediately close when he keeps talking.
“All I could think about was my family. My know-it-all brother-in-law and my stubborn best friend and my amazing older sister and my adorable innocent nephew, and you.”
“Johnny—”
“And I knew you’d be devastated and I knew you’d never move on. I know I’m an asshole, okay?” He sighs, brushing away a tear with his thumb. “I know I scared you, sweetheart. But all I could think of when I was up there was what would happen to you—to all of you—if I didn’t stop him.”
“Johnny…”
“I love you, okay? And I never would have done that if it wasn’t the only chance we had.”
You wrap your arms around him and shove your face into the fabric of his shirt. He smells like soap and smoke, his clothes soaked from the rain.
“I love you too,” you mumble. “But please don’t ever leave me again.”
“I won’t, doll. Now please, can we go back inside and stay in bed for at least two business days?”
“Throw in some takeout and you have a deal.”
Johnny laughs and kisses you on the forehead. “Deal.”
This scene being cut from First Steps is my villain origin story.
We needed more of the Storm siblings outside of the plot. The two scenes we got of them were just plot-related. I really wanted to see more of them outside of that.
Since we’ll never know, I’m choosing to believe this was set after the whole “Johnny loves space…Johnny loves women” moment.
Not that I wanted there to be family drama I was kind of hoping for a moment where someone, in this case Sue, addressed how Johnny was feeling overlooked and not taken seriously, but we never got it.
I get why everything happened the way it happened, but I wanted more from this movie in terms of interpersonal moments and scenes that aren’t solely focused on moving the plot forward. Breathing room.
Pairing: Johnny Storm x Scientist!Reader
Synopsis: Him stealing you away from your work in the lab to help him with his.
Genre & warnings: Fluff :) In this house, we love our nerd❤️🔥 I hope you guys are not sick of me writing him
Word count: 1.3k | masterlist
"You ready?" Johnny’s voice was laced with that signature smirk, even though you couldn’t see it with your face currently pressed against his shoulder as he tightened his hold around your waist.
"No," you muttered, stiff in his arms.
He adjusted his grip, arms sliding lower, more secure.
“Why did I agree to this again?” you questioned, already feeling the regret bubbling in your chest, your hold on him tightened around his torso.
“You promised me, remember?” he said, grin audible now.
“I don’t remember promising you aerial acrobatics—”
“Well, I remember. I said I needed to test the flexibility and control of the new suit mid air while carrying a passenger. You said, and I quote, ‘Fine, but if I die, I’m haunting you.’”
You scowled, hitting his chest lightly. “Is it really necessary?”
“Yeah. Come on, it’s strictly for research purposes.” His tone was mockingly academic, mimicking yours when you talk to him about your projects. He cracked his neck and flexed his hands, warming them up.
“Okay…” you sighed, “but I swear, Johnny, if you drop me, I will—”
Your threat never finished. With a sudden whoosh of heat and light, he shot up from the rooftop of the Baxter Building, soaring into the New York sky.
You screamed. Genuinely. Loud and unfiltered.
But then it caught you by the way the wind roared past your ears, the skyline shrinking beneath your feet, the sky swallowing you whole like the world had turned into a blurred image on fire. Your stomach dropped, your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, just one impossible and weightless second, you felt unanchored from everything you’d ever known.
It felt like a roller coaster in the sky with your safety belt are the arms of the flaming boy holding you.
And you laughed.
It started as a startled sound, surprised out of you, but then it bloomed, high and breathless and real. The kind of laugh you only let out when you forget to be scared, when the world tips sideways and the only thing left to do is fly with it.
Johnny’s eyes softened, heart fluttering as he heard the sound. That bright, unguarded laugh, it reached down and curled something warm inside his chest. He looked down at you briefly, your arms snug around him, cheeks flushed from the wind, eyes wide and glassy with wonder, and he couldn’t help but grin like the first time he flew with his newly powered abilities. He felt free.
He dipped into a tight turn, weaving between glass towers and over streaks of yellow cabs below. “You sound like you’re enjoying this,” he called over the wind.
“Shut up and don’t drop me!” you yelled back but your laughter betrayed you.
He zipped through the sky above Times Square, flames trailing behind like a comet’s tail. The digital billboards blurred beneath you in a sea of muted colours. Somewhere below, a few civilians screamed and pointed up. Johnny winked.
Then he veered west, cutting low over the Hudson just enough for the water to catch his heat and ripple in reaction. He curved back, passing over Central Park where the trees looked like a patchwork of cotton and shadow, and dipped once more doing a full loop this time, his whoop of joy nearly lost to the wind.
“Looping is crucial for wind resistance testing!” he called out, voice vibrating through your body where your chest pressed to his.
“You’re the worst scientist ever!”
“You’re literally laughing!”
You were. Loudly. And you didn’t want to stop.
For a minute, you weren’t in New York. You weren’t a scientist with a clipboard and a lab schedule. You were part of the sky where it was burning, breathless, unstoppable. And Johnny was holding you as he shared this moment with you.
When he finally began his descent, the wind softened around you. The roar dimmed, the buildings returned to their places, and the city slowed its spin. He landed gently back onto the rooftop with all the smoothness of a pro, fire dimming until only the faintest heat radiated off his suit.
Your legs wobbled the second your feet hit the ground.
“Okay. Wow,” you said, voice light, dazed.
Your hair was a complete mess, wild and tangled from the wind. He reached up, running his fingers gently through the strands, smoothing them back behind your ears. His touch lingered a moment longer than necessary.
“Sorry,” he said, eyes soft. “Wind got aggressive around 56th Street.”
You laughed again, this time softer, throat raw from wind and joy. You looked at him in amazement.
“So?” he asked, stepping closer, his hand still brushing your cheek. “What’s your deduction of this test, Dr. [L/N]?”
You tilted your head. “I’d say it was… unexpected.”
“Unexpected good?”
“Unexpected terrifying.”
“But you laughed.”
“I did.”
Johnny grinned, that full and unruly thing that took over his whole face. “Then I’m calling it a success.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You didn’t drop me. That’s a start.”
“That’s an excellent start.”
And you swore you saw something flicker behind his eyes then. Something soft, something bright, something almost of hope.
He reached out and took your hand, tugging you toward the stairwell.
“C’mon,” he said, hand finding yours as he pulled you. “I want to show you something.”
You followed him. Still floating.
⌞══════════════════════════════════════════⌝
His room was unexpectedly warm. Not in temperature, but in personality. It wasn’t messy like you expected, but filled with color and life. Polaroids of him and his family stuck to the mirror. Stacks of books piling against the wall. And on the tall window facing the city, dozens of papers, sketches and designs.
He gestured to the sketches taped to the glass. “These are my latest attempts. Space grade suits. Radiation protection, pressurization mods… trying to balance heat insulation and flexibility. So Reed can stop calling my suits ‘over glorified pajamas.’”
You stepped closer, eyes scanning over the surprisingly detailed sketches. “Johnny… these are good. Like, really good.” Your index finger tracing lightly on the papers.
He scratched the back of his neck. “Eh, they’re alright. I just mess around with ideas. Reed does the real designing.”
You turned, folding your arms and expression serious. “Okay, I’m going to say something, and you’re not allowed to dodge it with self deprecating charm.”
He blinked. “Uh oh.”
“You’re smart, Johnny. You think about this stuff. You care. That’s more than ‘messing around.’” you leaned slightly forward as if to emphasize what you’re saying to him, “That’s design thinking. Engineering logic. And it’s pretty impressive.”
His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
“I can help you refine this,” you continued. “And maybe even get Reed to take it seriously. You know how he is,” you made a face, earning a laugh from him, “stubborn unless someone speaks his language. Lucky for you, I’m fluent.” You smiled proudly.
He smiled, something softer now, with a hint of vulnerability. “You’d do that?”
You nodded. “I was brought out of the lab to be your test passenger. Helping you pitch to Reed is child’s play.”
Johnny stepped closer, standing just shy of arm’s reach. “You know… you didn’t have to say all that. But I’m really glad you did.”
You shrugged, heartbeat loud in your ears. “You steal me from my lab all the time. I figure I owe you at least one ego boost.”
He took your hand gently, eyes never leaving yours. “Just one?”
You tilted your head, a teasing smile playing on your lips, your hands rested on his chest. “We’ll see how convincing your space suit presentation is.”
Johnny leaned in just enough to press his forehead to yours.
Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader
Summary: Seeing Johnny Storm playing with his nephew, Franklin, makes you realise just how much you want to have children with him.
Warnings: Reader has the ability to fall pregnant and carry a child but I don't think I mention any specific pronouns, references to sex.
Word Count: 2.5k
A/N: Thank you all so much for the response on my first Johnny fic that I posted last week. I didn't expect it at all and I'm so grateful for that. I've been trying to write another one ever since but I just haven't had the motivation to write anything until I had this idea this afternoon and then somehow just managed to fire it out tonight! I'm so happy with how it turned out so I hope you all enjoy it and I promise there's more Johnny fics coming soon! 😊
The first time you saw your fiancé with his nephew, Franklin, you knew you were in trouble.
You’d seen him with babies before – people in New York had been, in the past, known to give Johnny their babies so he could kiss them. There was a trend at one point, where if your baby was kissed by Johnny Storm, they would grow up strong and well-liked. Johnny just liked it because it meant he got to kiss cute babies.
But seeing him with his nephew is different. You’re standing back stage at The Ted Gilbert Show, which the Fantastic Four are starring on again. Franklin is one year old and mischievous as ever, and clearly taking advantage of his uncle Johnny’s playfulness.
You watch as Johnny plucks Franklin out of Ben’s arms and swings him high up in the air. Franklin is giggling and you smile at the sight of it. He’s easily one of the cutest babies you’ve ever seen, and the fact that his smile is because of the love of your life makes it even sweeter.
There has been plenty of talk about the future with you and Johnny, when one day you wanted to have children of your own. But saving the world and having children don’t go hand in hand, and you know Johnny is worried about it. He admires Sue and Reed for the way they’re able to handle parenthood alongside their jobs but a part of him wonders if he’ll ever be able to do something like that himself, no matter how much he wants a child of his own with you. He’s also just too afraid to change the dynamic of the team even further.
Sue comes up beside you. You don’t realise she’s there till she speaks. “If Franklin is sick on him after being thrown around like that, I really hope that someone around here is filming,” she hums, nudging your shoulder gently. There’s a smile on her face as she says it. “Though, I’m surprised Reed hasn’t stepped in and stopped this already. He’s been very protective lately.”
“For good reason,” you give Sue a look, as if she’d forgotten about the man last month who had attempted to tunnel underneath the Baxter Building to get inside – just to see the famous Franklin Richards in person. That hadn’t ended well for him. He was currently in a jail cell somewhere in the city, so far away you don’t even know where.
You turn back to look at Johnny as he swings Franklin around again and then pulls him in close to his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of the boys head and your heart melts a little in your chest. You don’t notice that you’re smiling until Sue pulls you up on it.
“What’s that smile for?” She asks, eyebrows raised.
“Hm?” You glance at her, not wanting to look away from Johnny for too long. You want to make sure you remember every moment of the way he’s playing with Franklin and how it makes you feel… warm and happy and… there’s longing, too. Longing to have a memory like this, but featuring your own child rather than Franklin. Longing that also features immense attraction to Johnny that makes you feel a certain type of way that Sue doesn’t need to know.
“The way you’re smiling at my brother and my son…”
Franklin is giggling again as Johnny holds him in the air and starts running around with him, making noises like he’s a plane, zooming through the air.
“It’s just sweet, that’s all,” you shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. This is not the time to tell Sue that right now, what you really want to do is jump her brothers bones and have a child of your own with him.
Sue looks at you for a moment, unconvinced, but then the staff are telling them there’s two minutes to show time and to get into their places and she’s being ushered to the stage by one of the assistants.
You’re meant to be babysitting Franklin for this television appearance. Sue and Reed don’t mind showing him off from time to time, but they also want to keep things private and having Franklin on television with them always raises questions about him. Does he have powers? What are they? Is he going to join and make them change the name to the Fantastic Five, even though he’s barely even a year old? All questions none of them want to have to answer, especially on live television. You never mind when you have to look after Franklin anyway – he’s always an angel for you.
Johnny comes running over to you, still holding Franklin in the air and making plane noises. He comes to a halt in front of you, quite literally screeching to a stop, sound effect and all, and brings Franklin back down, resting him on his hip. Your heart beats a little quicker at the sight of how natural it looks on him, looking after a child.
“It’s time for your aunty to look after you now, kid,” he says to Franklin, who is already pre-occupied trying to pull out a chunk of Johnny’s hair. “Okay, ow. That hurts. Do you have super-human strength? Of course you do, you’re a magic baby. Duh.”
You smile and extend your arms to take Franklin off of him. He doesn’t have long till he needs to get up on stage to be ready for the program to start, but unsurprisingly, Johnny doesn’t seem to be in much of a rush.
He kisses the top of Franklin’s head again as he passes him over to you, and then leans in and kisses your cheek. “Wish me luck?” He asks, lips quirked up into a small smile.
“You don’t need it, but you know you always have it.”
Johnny flashes you a grin as one of the staff starts counting down from 10 and then turns around, running back towards the stage and taking his place next to Reed. He catches your eye just before the countdown finishes and sends you a wink.
You stand side-stage and watch as the Fantastic Four do their interview with Ted Gilbert, answering questions from adoring fans in the audience. You sway side to side with Franklin, comfortably holding him as he rests his head on your shoulder and naps.
Then, you hear an audience member direct a question to Johnny that makes your heart skip a beat. There are always questions from fans that they never expect, and personal questions are never unexpected, but this one takes you by surprise.
“Johnny, we need to know. Have you started planning your wedding? Everyone is looking forward to seeing what sort of event it’ll be, and have you started thinking about another little member of the Fantastic Four joining the family?”
If you’d been drinking, you’re sure you would have choked on it, having heard someone mention the very thing you’d been thinking of only minutes earlier. It’s only natural that the public was going to start thinking about such a thing now that you were engaged and had been for a few months, but that didn’t mean that such a question was appropriate to ask.
You listen in carefully to hear Johnny’s answer.
“No, no wedding planning yet,” he admits. “Honestly, we’re just trying to soak in the feeling of being engaged for a little bit. There’s no rush. Of course, we’d love a little one of our own, but we’re really just taking each day as it comes.”
The answer is so perfect it almost sounds rehearsed, but you know it’s not. For a man that you know is hesitant when it comes to both children and discussing his personal life with the public, you think he handled it rather well. Even though you could hear the strain in his voice that told you that it was the last question he wanted to be asked.
Once the interview is over and they all exit the stage, Sue immediately comes over to you and carefully removes the sleeping Franklin from your shoulder. She thanks you for taking care of him as she and Reed head back stage to change out of their suits and get back into their clothes to head home.
Johnny walks up to you, arms open wide and a grin on his face. “So, how’d I do?”
“Hm, your public speaking could do with some work,” you shrug, trying to keep the smile off your face as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side.
He rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to the side of your head. “You’re full of it, gorgeous.”
“Only full of love for you.”
Johnny laughs at that as you start to walk alongside him, one of his arms still wrapped around your waist, his hand resting on your hip as you all head back to the dressing room.
“Did you watch the whole thing?” He asks, glancing over at you as you turn a corner.
“I did,” you confirm. “Franklin fell asleep on me though, so I’m afraid to say he didn’t see his heart-throb uncle answering all those questions from his die-hard fans. But there’ll still be time for you to teach him how to respond in a similar situation.”
He smiles, shaking his head. “So, you heard all the questions?”
You stop, turning to face him. His hand remains on your hip. “Yes, Johnny. I heard the question that lady asked about if we’ve been planning the wedding and if we’re going to have a baby.” You figure it’s better to just rip off the bandaid and confront the question that Johnny is so clearly trying to ask you without saying it.
Johnny sighs and rests his other hand on your hip, tugging you a little closer to him. It makes the moment feel more private, as if you’re not in the middle of a crowded hallway of one of the biggest television shows in the country.
“Did I say the right thing?” He asks, voice soft. “It felt so wrong to answer a question like that without you up there with me. I mean, it’s easy enough for me to say ‘Yeah, we’d love to have a kid’ when I’m not the one that has to carry and give birth to it. When it comes to conceiving a baby, my job is pretty easy. I’m not the one that has to grow it.”
You sigh and tug Johnny out of the main hallway and into a small, empty hall just off to the side. “Honey, I could hear in your voice how much you hated answering that question,” you admit. “But you said the right thing. You told them what they want to hear. They don’t need to know the ins and outs of our wedding planning or if we’re pregnant or not. But for future reference, I am more than happy to carry and give birth to our child.”
Johnny tightens his grip on your hips and swipes one of his thumbs back and forth, a comforting mechanism for both you and him. “Is this you telling me you’re ready?” He asks, eyebrows raised as he meets your eyes. You can see the apprehension in them.
“I know how you feel about having children, Johnny,” you start, “but I saw the way you were with Franklin earlier. You’re a great uncle to him, and I know you’d be a great father one day too. Even if it’s terrifying to try and be a father and a superhero at the same time.”
“Thank you, baby,” he hums, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. The words mean more to him than you realise, but he can’t help but focus on the second thing you said. “You were watching me and Franklin? I thought I saw you talking to my sister.”
You nod. “I was, but I was watching you at the same time.” You scrunch up your nose as you think of the way Johnny had looked, playing with his nephew, and the way it’d made you feel. “I always find you attractive, Johnny Storm, but seeing you playing with Franklin… honestly, it’s one of the times I’ve found you most attractive.”
The cocky smile that appears on his face almost makes you regret your words, until he re-adjusts his grip on your hips and tugs you closer to him so your chest is pressed up against his and your lips are only inches away from his.
“You think me playing with my nephew is attractive, huh?” He smirks.
“Oh, get that look off your face, Johnny,” you huff out a laugh, trying to play it cool even though you’re pretty sure your heart-rate has skyrocketed and it’s taking every ounce of self control to not throw yourself at your fiancé right now in this deserted hallway.
He leans in and brushes his lips over yours for only a second before he mutters a few words that make you feel weak at the knees. “Maybe we should head home and get to work on creating a little one of our own, then.”
You’re fighting to hold onto the last bits of restraint when his lips meet yours. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close to him as he kisses you, your breathing heavy already. It’s when one of his hands starts to drift a little too low that you remember where you are and, regretfully, pull away from the kiss.
You press your hands against Johnny’s chest to push yourself away from him and give the two of you some distance. Laughing, you shake your head. “Johnny Storm, what the hell was that?”
He leans back against the wall behind him and crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s me saying that I’m ready if you are, babe.” He says it casually, as if they’re not words that set your heart on fire and make you feel like you’re on cloud 9.
You open your mouth and then close it again. “You can’t– you can’t just say that!”
“And why not?” Johnny tilts his head to the side, that stupid smile still on his lips.
“Well… we’re in public!”
“Baby,” he says, standing up off the wall and walking over to you. “I just told the entire country that one day, we wanna have sex and make babies together and you think that someone overhearing us in the back corridors of The Ted Gilbert Show is a big deal?”
You gasp, trying not to laugh, and lunge towards him, putting a hand over his mouth to shut him up. The man doesn’t have an inside voice most of the time and even though he’s right and he had essentially just told everyone that on live television, you don’t want someone to overhear you and make things awkward the next time the Fantastic Four is asked back.
You can feel him smiling underneath your hand as he reaches up and takes your wrist gently, removing your hand from his mouth.
“Shall we go home?” He asks, eyes twinkling and an amused smile on his face.
“Yes,” you murmur, “but no funny business.”
Johnny chuckles, manoeuvring his hold on your wrist so he can take your hand instead. “Of course not,” he agrees. “Not until we’re safely back in our bedroom with the door locked.”
Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader
Synopsis: Being the girlfriend of Johnny Storm meant that you are automatically his nephew's godmother.
Genre & warnings: Just sweet domestic fluff, established relationship
Word count: 1.8k | masterlist
a/n: this one is inspired from this post but in the middle of writing I was listening to Echoes by Enhypen and this came out instead.
Sue had called you early that morning, a touch of frantic energy in her voice even though she tried to hide it.
"I’ve got a full day at the Foundation. Think you could come by early today?"
Of course you said yes. You always did.
You showed up with a soft overnight bag slung over your shoulder, hair pulled back in a loose tie, and a familiar comfort in your step as you walked into the Baxter Building. The space already smelled like the faint mix of Sue’s citrus candles and baby powder, and the hum of the building felt like a second home now.
Franklin lit up the moment he saw you, his tiny hands flapping excitedly as he let out a series of happy squeals. You barely had a second to drop your bag before scooping him into your arms, his warm little body melting against you like muscle memory. He had grown so much and you were there to witness it.
“You missed me that much?” you whispered into his soft hair as he babbled nonsense, tiny fingers grabbing at your collar. “I was gone for, like, twelve hours.”
Across the room, Johnny was already there, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen like he’d been waiting for his moment. Coffee in hand, wearing that compression shirt he definitely chose just to be annoying.
"You again?" he said, raising an eyebrow.
You tossed him a look as Franklin nuzzled into your shoulder. “Charmed, aren’t you.”
He didn’t move right away, just took a long sip of his coffee, his eyes tracking your every movement. Then he pushed off the frame and strolled over, already hovering. Already being him.
"You're holding him wrong," he said, casually.
You adjusted your grip by maybe a centimeter. “He’s literally clinging to me like a baby koala. He’s fine.”
Johnny peered closer, dramatic as ever. “Just saying. Wouldn’t want his tiny spine to misalign or whatever.”
You gave him a slow side-eye, shifting Franklin onto your hip. “First of all, that’s a morbid thought. And second, I’m a woman, Johnny. I have maternal instinct. Trust me.”
“Oh, maternal instinct,” he repeated with a grin, circling you now like a shark with a caffeine addiction. “How could I forget? That’s why you were letting him chew on the remote last week, right?”
“That was one time.”
He leaned in close like he had a secret. “Pretty sure it still turns the TV on.”
You narrowed your eyes, refusing to let your smirk win. “Keep it up and I’ll put you in time out.”
“Oh no,” he mock gasped. “Not time out. You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would dare.”
There was a beat where your eyes locked. Franklin squealed between you, but Johnny didn’t look away. Not right away. He was close now. Close enough that you could see the flecks of amber in his eyes under the warm glow of the living room’s lights, close enough to feel the lingering heat radiating off his skin even through your long sleeved blouse.
His smirk pulled into something a little more crooked, more familiar. “You’re all mouth today.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Worried I’m better at it than you?”
He leaned in, lips brushing your cheek first, barely and featherlight, then ghosted toward your mouth with maddening slowness. And then he kissed you.
Not a dramatic kiss. Not one of those kiss-you-against-the-wall kinds he sometimes pulled when it was just the two of you. This one was simple. Barely parted lips. Warm. Easy. A “hi” with no fanfare. Like he kissed you this way every morning, and every morning was quietly spectacular.
You let yourself lean into it, just for a second, before pulling back with a hum. “Hi to you too, I guess.”
He smiled against your skin. “Took you long enough to get here.”
“I was eating breakfast when Sue called,” you said pointedly. “And I couldn't decide what to wear today.”
“You always look nice,” he said quietly, teasing still, but something else was there. Fondness. A thread of something unsaid. “You know that, right?”
You blinked. “Was that... a compliment?”
He took another sip of coffee, turning on his heel. “Don’t get used to it.” Stingy kind of guy he’s being.
“Too late,” you called after him, grinning. “I’m adding it to my journal entry.”
“Let me know when you get to the one called ‘Why Johnny Storm’s Parenting Advice Should Be Ignored.’”
“I already started on that one months ago. It’s titled ‘He Tried to Feed the Baby Gummy Bears.’”
Johnny’s laugh echoed from the kitchen.
The rest of the day was spent in the whirlwind that came with babysitting a very active, very curious 8 month old cosmic baby. Franklin had recently learned how to crawl, and boy, did he take that freedom seriously. He was everywhere. Under chairs. Behind the couch. At one point, you caught him trying to bite the rubber corner guard off the coffee table.
By early evening, you were tired in a way that only chasing a crawling human all day could make you. After dinner prep was done and you’d managed to stop Johnny from feeding Franklin mini marshmallows as a "snack," you brought the little one to his colorful, plush-filled nursery for some quiet playtime.
"Alright, bud," you sighed, flopping gently onto the carpeted floor, surrounded by oversized stuffed animals and rainbow-colored stacking toys. "I’m just going to lie down here for one second. Just one."
You cradled your head on the soft belly of a giant stuffed lion and closed your eyes. You didn't expect sleep. Just a moment. A pause.
You felt the soft thump of baby hands crawling across the carpet.
And then, a warm little head rested beside yours. Franklin's breath puffed softly against your cheek. His tiny fingers found your hand, curling around your pinky.
Your heart ached in the most beautiful way. A slow, quiet ache. You opened your eyes just a sliver and found him lying there, eyes fluttering closed, cuddled up beside you like you like a cute little cat.
You couldn’t move if you wanted to.
So you didn’t.
⌞══════════════════════════════════════════⌝
That’s how Johnny found you.
He paused in the doorway, mid-step, holding a bottle of formula he was meant to bring to you. The late golden light from the windows warmed the room in a hush, catching the softness of your expression even as you slept. Franklin, half on your chest, half on the plushie, still had one hand curled into yours.
Johnny stood still for a long time. He'd seen a lot in his life. Battles, crimes, explosions, chaos, but nothing ever hit him in the ribs quite like this did.
You and Franklin. Safe. Soft. Together.
Something flickered behind his heart. Longing. Gratitude. Love.
He crouched beside you, careful not to wake the baby, and reached out. His hand brushed your shoulder gently.
"Hey," he whispered, fingers warm against your blouse. "Dinner's ready."
You stirred, slow and a little groggy, blinking up at him. "What time is it?"
"Almost seven. Come on, Sleeping Beauty."
⌞══════════════════════════════════════════⌝
Dinner was warm, family style, with the table full of laughter and the soft clinking of cutlery. Sue was bouncing Franklin on her knee, grinning over at you with a fondness that felt like home.
"I don’t know what we’d do without you," she said suddenly, passing you the salad bowl. "Honestly. You’ve been here almost every week for seven months. Franklin adores you."
You flushed. "He’s easy to adore."
Reed looked up from his plate. "You’d make a good mother someday."
The words landed soft, like snow over your skin. Your breath caught.
Johnny didn’t say anything. But you felt his hand slide beneath the table, finding your knee, warm and steady.
You dared a glance at him.
He was already looking at you.
Dinner turned chaotic after that. Franklin smeared mashed potatoes on Reed's sleeve, which then he flicked peas across the table, and soon the baby-parent food fight had escalated to ridiculous proportions. You laughed so hard your sides hurt.
⌞══════════════════════════════════════════⌝
The Baxter Building was finally quiet.
Franklin had long since surrendered to sleep after an enthusiastic food war with his parents that left pasta shells in Sue’s hair and mashed peas clinging to the collar of Reed’s shirt. You and Johnny had slipped away somewhere after that. To shower, to change, to breathe. The usual post chaos ritual.
Now you were curled up on his bed, one of Johnny’s t-shirts hanging soft on you, your legs tucked under his sheets like you belonged there. Because, at this point, you kind of did.
Johnny stood near the window, one hand braced on the sill, the other ruffling damp hair with a towel. City lights flickered against the pane behind him, casting him in silhouette.
“You know,” he said after a long stretch of quiet, “Reed’s right.”
You glanced over, lazy with comfort. “About what? I’m a goddess? I should be rewarded for my patience with Franklin?”
He smiled, just a little. “That you’d make a good mom someday.”
Your breath caught, not because it was the first time you’d heard it, but because this time it was him saying it. Voice low, not teasing. Sincere. Weighty.
You lowered your eyes, nervous suddenly. “That’s… not something people usually say if they’re not thinking long term.”
Johnny shrugged off the towel and finally turned toward you, walking slowly until he reached the edge of the bed. He sat beside you, then leaned back on one arm, watching your face. Watching the way your fingers worried the hem of his t-shirt like it would answer for you.
“I think about it more than I should,” he admitted, quiet now. “Us. What we’d be like… later. When it’s not just babysitting.”
Your gaze met his again. He looked serious, but not in a way that made you want to run. Just the opposite.
He reached over and traced his fingers down your arm, stopping at your hand, interlacing them slowly. It meant something new now.
“You and me,” he said, voice softer than flame. “We’re already one Storm.”
Then he smirked faintly.
“Maybe one and a half.”
You blinked, smiling despite the heat rising to your cheeks. “One and a half Storm?”
He nodded, thumb brushing your knuckles. “You’ve practically moved in, Franklin loves you more than he loves me, and Sue thinks you're a superhero in disguise. Half a Storm now. Just need to make it official someday.”
You leaned in, forehead resting against his. “You keep saying things like that and I might actually cry.”
“I’d catch your tears before they hit the pillow,” he said. “I’m very fast. It's a whole thing.”
You laughed, soft and real.
He kissed you again then with no teasing this time. Just a quiet, grounding kind of kiss. The kind that said yes. yes, I want this. I want you.
And that night, when you finally curled into him under the blankets, his arms around you and your fingers still laced, you thought to yourself.
One and a Half Storm. You liked the sound of that.
Relationship: Johnny Storm x Reader
Warnings: nothing! short little fluffy thing
Summary: Johnny brings home dessert from a local bakery for family dinner, which raises some alarms… Why has he been frequenting a bakery?
A/N: literally had this idea in the middle of eating dinner and had to stop what i was doing to write it so i hope you enjoy. i think it's kind of humorous. the relationship is more indirect/implied. also I'm testing out this little design thing (peep the borders). idk everyone makes their writing posts so aesthetically pleasing now which is very new to me. sorry I'm old I've been writing on this site since about 2014 and the trends are changing I'm trying to keep up
“What’s that?” Ben asked, pointing at the brown bag sitting at the other end of the counter.
“What’s what?” Johnny asked from the dining table.
“That.” Ben repeated, a little annoyed. “That bag on the counter. Where did it come from?”
Johnny finally gave in and turned around to see what Ben was talking about. When his eyes landed on the object, he muttered, “Oh. I brought that. It’s dessert. Apple pie to be specific.”
“You brought dessert?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you get dessert?”
“From that new bakery around the corner.”
“You went to a bakery?”
Johnny rolled his eyes and was just about to snap back when Sue and Reed entered the room.
“What did Johnny do?” Sue asked as she walked toward the dining table.
“Nothing,” Johnny sighed.
“He brought dessert,” Ben explained, “from a bakery.”
“You went to a bakery?” Reed asked, clearly unable to hide his surprise.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? Is that really so surprising?”
Sue laughed. “Well, sorry Johnny, it’s just because you aren’t exactly one to frequent bakeries.” But then she paused. Johnny swore he could see a lightbulb go off in her head. “Unless…” She eyed her brother suspiciously. Johnny certainly did not appreciate that. His defenses were suddenly amplified.
He loved his sister dearly but come on…
“Unless what?” Reed asked.
Before anyone could loop him in, Ben spoke up. “Oh, I see now. That makes perfect sense.” It makes like him and Sue were communicating telepathically. Johnny really, really did not appreciate this.
“Stop…” Johnny wanted to bury his head in the sand.
“What am I missing?” Reed asked again.
“There’s a woman,” Sue explained. “Specifically, there’s a woman at the bakery.”
At Sue’s comment, Johnny couldn’t help but let his mind flood with images and memories of you. The cashier with the welcoming eyes that had hooked him in one day when he’d uncharacteristically looked through the windows of the new neighborhood bakery. The sweet woman who chatted with him like he was any regular person. The gracious one who like to recommend him certain pies and then not-so-sneakily slip him extra cookies for free. The beautiful gal who boldly and confidently let her hand linger a little longer on his when handing him his items.
He could go on and on; his brain full with infinite ways of thinking about you. He found you entirely intoxicating. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen but now he found himself quite addicted to pastries and sweets if it meant getting to chat with you for just a few minutes or so.
“I think you hit the nail on the head, Sue,” Ben remarked as he took his place at the table, forcing Johnny back to reality. A very embarrassing reality.
“Look—It’s—Yeah, okay, I like the cashier at the bakery, but the treats are actually really delicious—,”
“Oh, this is wonderful. I think it’s very endearing that you have a crush,” Sue replied. “When do we get to meet her?”
Johnny nearly choked on the air around him. “Meet her? We—We’re not together or anything. I haven’t even asked her out.”
Ben chuckled and then asked, “Well, what are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know,” Johnny admitted. “She’s just probably nice to everyone and I’m the sucker falling for it.“
“I don’t think you believe that. She clearly means something to you,” Reed noted. Johnny shot him a look.
“Look,” Sue interrupted, “maybe if you get this doe-eyed talking and thinking about her—,”
“Doe-eyed?” Johnny questioned.
Sue ignored him and continued, “—then where’s the harm in giving it a shot?”
“It feels different,” he finally admitted. “She feels different.”
The smile on Sue’s face grew wide. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“Same here,” Ben agreed.
Reed smirked. “She sounds like a scientific marvel.”
“Okay, okay. Enough,” Johnny said a bit forcefully. “Let’s just eat, yeah? We can dissect my love life later.”
“Promise?” Ben jested.
Johnny, without an ounce of hesitation, chucked a dinner roll at him. Ben was laughing too much to bother ducking.
SUMMARY: Babysitting Franklin brings a level of chaos you should expect from a toddler. You and Johnny find that you may want to have that chaos as a constant in your life, even if you’re both too scared to admit it.
WARNINGS: Discussions of having a baby, reader is AFAB, Johnny and reader are oblivious fools.
NAVIGATION | PROMPT LIST | WC: 2K
It starts with Franklin throwing a sock into a potted plant. To be fair, the day had been going fine up until then.
The Baxter Building was quiet, unusually so. Reed and Sue were off on a well-deserved date night, and Ben was out helping with cleanup after a Mole Man tunnel collapse. Which meant that somehow, some way, the task of watching their three-year-old son fell to you and Johnny Storm.
You could handle the end of the world. You could handle babysitting. You could even handle Johnny Storm. Handling all three at once? You were beginning to doubt your own confidence.
“Okay, Franklin, buddy, let’s keep the socks out of the plant. Plants don’t need socks, trust me,” you said sweetly.
Franklin blinked up at you from where he was squatting by the plant. His curls flopped into his eyes. “But he was cold,” he argued seriously.
Johnny snorted from his spot on the couch. “He makes a compelling argument.”
You shot him a look, one eyebrow raised. “You’re not helping.”
“I’m moral support,” Johnny said, lying back with a dramatic sigh and tossing a Lucky Charm in the air to catch in his mouth, “And technically backup. Like a fire extinguisher. Cool, essential, underused.”
“Full of hot air?” you offered.
Johnny grinned sideways at you. “You wound me.”
Franklin used this moment of distraction to climb onto the coffee table and shout, “I’m a bird!,” and promptly belly-flopped into the cushions. Both of you flinched.
“Is he supposed to do that?” Johnny whispered.
“Define ‘supposed to,’” you muttered, half-diving to catch Franklin before he rolled off the couch.
Johnny stood up, finally, and crouched next to you. Franklin giggled as you adjusted him upright, his tiny socked feet kicking the air like an overturned turtle. “You okay, kiddo?” Johnny asked, tapping Franklin’s foot.
“I’m a good bird!” he said, delighted.
Johnny’s mouth twitched into something soft, and he ruffled Franklin’s curls. “You’re the best bird.”
You didn’t miss how gently Johnny handled him, or how he lingered after straightening Franklin’s t-shirt, fingers brushing lightly against the little dinosaur print like he was memorising it. Like he wasn’t the same man who once flew through a sandstorm on fire while quoting Top Gun. And then, he looked up and caught you watching.
Your heart stuttered, and you looked away a beat too late.
The afternoon spiraled like a slow-moving tornado made of board books and stuffed animals. Johnny tried to entertain Franklin with light shows, mini flame animals dancing across his palms, but Franklin declared, “Too orange,” and went back to trying to shove a crayon into his juice box.
You made lunch. Johnny supervised Franklin’s ‘science experiment’ which involved smooshing avocado into applesauce. You took turns doing voices for story time. Johnny was surprisingly good at the grumpy goat in Three Billy Goats Gruff. You’d give him an Oscar if you could.
Around nap time, Franklin began the slow descent into toddler madness. He was tired, but didn’t know it, which meant he flopped dramatically on the rug, declared, “I’m melting”, and refused to wear pants for fifteen horrendous minutes.
Johnny looked mildly horrified. “Do all toddlers do this? Or is Franklin special?”
You laughed. “Both.”
When you finally got Franklin into bed, pants and all, you collapsed on the couch beside Johnny and stared at the ceiling like you’d just survived a war.
“Well,” Johnny said eventually, “I think I have applesauce in my hair.”
You turned your head. “You do.”
He smiled, eyes warm. “I’d let him do it again if it means hearing you laugh like that.”
Your breath caught. The smile on your lips faltered, just slightly. Johnny looked away quickly, fiddling with a throw pillow like it had secrets. “You’re really good with him.”
“So are you,” you said softly.
There was a long pause. Long enough for you to hear the hum of the refrigerator and the distant buzz of some lab equipment Reed had definitely forgotten to turn off.
“I, uh,” Johnny ran a hand through his hair and winced when his fingers hit applesauce. “I’ve been thinking.”
Your heart leapt. Please be thinking what I’m thinking. Please, for once, Johnny, just say it.
“Thinking,” he repeated, now sounding like he regretted ever bringing it up. “You know, about stuff.”
“Incredibly specific.”
Johnny groaned, flopping sideways to bury his face in a cushion. “Don’t make this harder!”
“I’m not making it hard! You’re just you.”
Johnny lifted his head, and something in his expression made your chest ache. Nervous, vulnerable. A rare sight.
“I was watching you with him. Franklin,” he said, eyes fixed on his hands. “And it was like, damn. I didn’t know you could be that gentle. You’re always so tough and brave.”
You tried to smile, but your throat was tight, only able to offer something a bit downturned and halfhearted. “He brings it out in me.”
Johnny nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I saw that, and I thought, wow. You’d be such a good—,” Johnny cut himself off with a roll of his eyes. He swallowed, “Forget it.”
You reached over and took his hand before he could fully retreat. “Say it.”
“I was thinking… someday, I’d want that. A little one. Maybe a bunch of little ones. Running around and setting things on fire and putting socks on plants. I kept thinking, if I ever did, I’d want it with someone like you.”
Silence. Not heavy or scary. Just soft, like snowfall. You whispered, “You idiot.”
Johnny blinked, frown tugging at his lips. “I mean, yeah, fair. Wait, why?”
“I’ve been thinking the exact same thing all afternoon.”
Johnny stared. You smiled, warmth curling in your chest like sunlight as you squeezed his hand. “Watching you with Franklin, seeing how gentle you were, how patient. I thought, God, if this man ever has a kid, he’s going to be the best dad in the world. And I want that. With you.”
Johnny’s jaw dropped slightly. “Wait. Really?”
You leaned in. “Really.”
Johnny broke into the widest, goofiest grin you’d ever seen. “So, theoretically, someday, you’d be down for, you know, the whole deal? Diapers, playdates, tiny superhero onesies?”
You laughed, joy bubbling up. “Someday? Yeah. Absolutely.”
Johnny scooted closer, expression softening. “With me?”
You kissed him, quick and sweet, and murmured against his lips, “Only you.”
Of course, that’s when Franklin wandered in, hair a chaotic fluff halo, pyjamas rumpled, and a single sock grasped in his hand.
“Can I have more crackers?” he asked, blinking tiredly.
You and Johnny turned as one, stifling laughter.
“Only if you promise not to feed them to the plant,” Johnny said solemnly.
A scientific journalist and a superhero, and there doesn't seem to be anyone around.
Johnny Storm x F!reader
Warnings: Fluff, some kissing, implied smut later on but like one line
Wordcount: 1.7k
A/N: Oh, I cant be stopped, went to see F4 for Pedro and came out a JQ!Johnny Storm fan so please enjoy this brainrot while it lasts.
The crowd cheers as the familiar trail of hot fire burns across the sky. You watch with an elated grin as the bright orange streak makes that signature 4 between the clouds, the women beside you practically swooning. The Fantastic Four had come back from space, utterly changed, and even more popular than they were when they left.
Reed Richards.
Sue Storm.
Ben Grimm.
Johnny Storm.
Even his name sent a thrill through you. Johnny Storm the utterly charming and brilliant scientist who now raced across the front covers of magazines, news shows, and ads across the world. From his dazzling grin to acts of service, it was no wonder pretty much everyone and anyone had a crush on the hero.
Your eyes track the flame as it begins to descend, camera crews rushing in to swarm as Johnny lands amongst the reporters, waving good naturedly.
“Johnny! When can we expect another interview with you?”
“Johnny what are your thoughts on-”
“Johnny, is there anyone special in your life?”
Johnny cocks his head at that question, giving the reporter a lopsided grin. “I do have someone special, yeah.”
The crowd surges, shouts of surprise ring out in the street. You watch with wide eyes as you're pushed closer, wincing as your notepad and mic are shoved into your chest as the people clamor around you. You feel your grip slip on your pen, looking down quickly to try and locate it amongst the swaying crowd, utterly distracted from the frenzy. Then, as soon as the chaos starts, it stops. You let out a breath, lifting your gaze from the floor as you notice, everyone is staring at you. You glance around, blinking rapidly before a hand falls softly on your shoulder, alerting you of a presence beside you.
Your pen, presented to you in the gloved hand of Johnny Storm.
“I believe this is yours.” He says softly, removing his hand as he offers you your pen. You let out a breath, nodding as you pick it up between your fingers.
“Thank you, Mr. Storm.” You say, giving him a kind smile as you readjust the items filling your hands. He just grins, shaking his head as if he wants to rebuke your words, but decides not to.
“You’re with,” He eyes the press badge hanging on your neck, “Oh, I like them. Always insightful articles. Any questions for me before I head out?” He offers, ignoring the cries of dismay from the surrounding reporters as their cameras flash, capturing this moment.
Your eyes widen and you nod, glancing down to the few notes you had been able to take prior to the meeting.
“Mr. Storm, will you further your interest in analyzing alien languages in hopes of reaching out to extraterrestrial lifeforms? If so, what message are you trying to spread?”
Johnny pauses, his blue eyes widening as he takes in your question.
“Well, I don't think it would hurt for other planets to have hope of saving themselves like we did.” He finally says, watching you as you quickly jot down his words.
“Thank you for your time.” You smile, looking up to the hero as he nods, beginning his walk back to the center of the crowd before he takes off once more, not paying any mind to the other reporters crying after him.
You smiled down at your notes, not even paying any mind to the stares from the others as they grumble and pack up their belongings. You weren't often at the press meetings on the Fantastic Four, mainly sticking to scientific articles from the safety of your computer, but you couldn't deny the thrill of being there, in person.
You gripped your bag as you turned down the street, making the journey back to your apartment to type up your findings. You climb up the multiple flights of stairs, only breathing slightly harder as you fumble for your key. You grip the doorknob as you slide in the cool metal, but blink in surprise as the door swings open, already unlocked. You listen carefully, eyes widening as you hear a scuffle from within your kitchen.
You move in, reaching for the heavy book you keep near your door, knowing if you swing hard enough surely you could at least do some sort of damage. You loft the tome near your head as you creep in further, rounding the corner to your small kitchen, peering from behind the wall to see your fridge open, someone rooting around without care.
They stand up.
You let out a disgruntled sigh as the familiar blonde head of Johnny Storm, your boyfriend, turns with a grin, his arms full of snacks.
“Johnny, I was seriously going to kill you.” You grumble, letting the book slam onto the kitchen table as you begin to unload your items, your heart pounding within your chest. Johnny lets you a bark of laughter, slamming the fridge closed with his food as he joins you, letting his snacks scatter on the counter as he reaches for you instead.
“I wasn't expecting to see you there, sweetheart!” He grins, wrapping his arms around your waist as he swings you around the kitchen, your hands flying to his biceps to hold on as a peal of laughter tumbles out of your throat. Johnny leans in, pressing kisses to your throat adoringly, leaning you back in a faux dip of a kiss.
“My boss asked if I could cover for another reporter,” you explain, letting your head fall back to open the expanse of your neck, allowing him more access. “But your fans practically tried to crush me.” You add, gasping as he nibbles on that sensitive spot along your shoulder.
“Well, I’m glad, or else I wouldn't have been able to see you.” He smirks, pulling you back upright in his arms. You give him a warning look, gently massaging his arms.
“You really shouldn't have let me interview you, I feel bad for the others who were waiting there forever.” You mumble, looking up into his eyes as he just smiles down at you.
“Well, I’m glad I did, I never get to see you in reporter mode. Mr. Storm? I had to hold myself back from kissing you in front of everyone, babe.” He scoffs, leaning down to brush his lips against yours.
Johnny Storm wasn't exactly how the media portrayed him to be.
Cocky, yes.
A hot head? He could be.
A playboy? Not exactly.
Johnny Storm was sweet and affectionate, he followed you around like a puppy. He couldn't cook, loved watching romantic dramas, and was an utterly devoted uncle.
Johnny Storm loves space and women.
Johnny Storm loves space and one woman.
You lean up on your toes, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. He made a keening sound as you tightened his grip on you, crushing you to his chest. He had already changed out of his suit, the soft material of his t-shirt cool under your hands. You pull back, smiling as you brush a thumb along his jaw, Johnny immediately leaning into your touch.
“That would have been good journalistic integrity.” You whisper to him, giggling softly as he shakes his head.
“Exactly, and we could never have that, so I can expect you at the next one right?”
You roll your eyes, groaning softly as he chases your lips, peppering kisses in the hopes of changing your mind.
“Please? Okay, what is it, the suit too much for you? I’ll wear it more often so you get used to it.” He begs against your skin, his grip tightening on you as you try to shake him off with a laugh.
“Johnny, I write about meteors and black holes, not my hypothesis on who The Human Torch is dating-” You try to explain, but Johnny only interrupts you with more kisses.
“Shhh, it's a great idea, Miss Reporter.” He whispers against your lips, causing you to cackle as his hands brush along your spine.
Most nights were like this, wrapped in each other's embrace either here in your home or in the Baxter building.
“Besides I absolutely whither away without your touch, imagine how much better I’ll be knowing I can go save a few buildings in town and then see my girlfriend waiting for me with that sexy reporters coat on I didnt even know she owned-” His words are cut off as you slap your hand over his mouth, your chest heaving as you try to regain your breath from the laughter pouring out of you.
“If I say yes to reporting you more often will you quit it-”
“Yes. immediately, effective now.” He grins from behind your hand, reaching up to remove it but not without placing a kiss in the center of your palm.
Johnny doesn't let you go though, he keeps you wrapped in his arms as he sways you to the rhythm of some song in his head, a hum coming from deep within his chest. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, unable to keep himself from completely covering you in himself.
“Why,” You begin softly, tightening your grip on his shirt. “Why did you tell the reporters you were seeing someone?” You ask, your breath fanning over his skin at how close he was keeping you to him. Johnny hums before tilting his head, a smile on his face.
“I believe the question was did I have anyone special, which I do, and I wanted them to know.” he explains with a shrug, turning your bodies in a full spin across the floor. “Was that okay? I can pretend I’m going through some tragic breakup by the end of the week?”
You think on this for a moment, before shaking your head with a smile, “No, it's fine. I’ll be your mystery woman.” You tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’ll give me some good content to write about you, now that I’m your favorite reporter.”
“You always were my favorite, but even more now that you'll be close to me after saving people's lives and stuff. I’ve been told I look even more handsome if you could believe it post-city saving.”
He swings you around the kitchen a few more times, covering your face in sweet kisses and soft praise of what he promised to do to you later.
boyfriend!johnny storm x fem civilian!reader
content warnings: none! all fluff!
summary: soft moment with your “celebrity” boyfriend
wc: 1.3k
masterlist.
The paparazzi camera lights flash like fireworks, too fast, too hot. Johnny’s used to it—has been for over a year now—but that doesn’t make it less annoying. He smiles anyway. A practiced, toothy grin that looks good in pictures and means absolutely nothing.
Another question is shouted from the crow, “Johnny, is it true you're seeing someone?” and his smile twitches. Not enough for the cameras to catch, but enough that Sue, watching from a few feet away, lets out a quiet, exhausted sigh.
He shifts his weight, adjusting the fit of his suit jacket like the extra second will help him lie smoother.
“I’ve heard the rumors,” he says, voice breezy, like he’s talking about a movie plot or the weather. “People say a lot of things.”
That gets a few laughs, a few more questions tossed over each other like waves. “Is she famous?” “Is it serious?” “Is she an alien?” “Can she handle the heat?”
Johnny chuckles, just enough. Leans into the microphone with a glint in his eye that makes half the audience melt.
“She’s…” He pauses, then shrugs. “She’s amazing. Smart. Cool. Pretty. No powers. Not famous. Sorry to disappoint.”
He doesn’t say your name. He never does.
Someone calls out, “Is that why you’ve been disappearing at night?”
He pretends not to hear. That part—well, they’re not wrong. Most nights, when the after-parties are winding down and the cameras are shutting off, Johnny flies low across the city skyline. He lands quiet, gentle, on the rusted fire escape outside your apartment window. You always leave it cracked for him. A candle burning low on the table. A half-finished book on your couch.
No headlines. No flashbulbs. Just you.
He shifts again under the spotlight, tugging at the cuffs of his jacket. “Next question,” he says, still grinning. “Unless any of you want to talk about actual news.”
A few groans. One last desperate, “Is she the real reason you’ve been turning down interviews?”
Johnny Storm—handsome, heartthrob and hotshot—just smirks.
“She’s the reason I sleep better at night,” he says, and then walks off before they can follow up.
The moment the interview wraps, Johnny’s already shrugging off the jacket. It’s still early by New York standards, but the sky is darker now, slipping from indigo to black, and he can feel the tension of the night clawing at the collar of his shirt.
He hates the way the lights follow him. The way the noise clings to his skin.
He launches into the air the second he's out of sight, heat flaring at his back as flames lick down his arms, steady and familiar. The wind rushes past his face, cold and clean, like a reset button pressed against his ribs. Up, he tells himself, just up and out and away.
And toward you.
It’s not far—Brooklyn’s just a few minutes when he’s flying—but he takes the long way anyway, trailing above the river, letting his mind wander. His fingers flex, still twitchy from the questions. The whole scene.
Is it serious?
The press always wants a story. Some face to match their headlines. Some easy name they can chew up in the group chat and spit out in next week’s gossip thread. They want drama. Glamour. Someone like him.
Not someone like you.
You, with your plush lips and gorgeous eyes and tea-stained mugs in the sink. You, who tells him things like “don’t forget to eat” and “you left your socks here again.”
You, who never once asked for the spotlight, who hates the spotlight and everything and everyone to do with it, but leaves your window unlocked every night for Johnny, just in case.
He sees it now, glowing soft in the corner of the building. Your family's apartment. His heart stutters like it always does when he spots that flicker of warm yellow light from your kitchen lamp. The flame around him dims without thought. He lands barefoot on the metal grating of your fire escape, still warm to the touch from his descent.
You don’t flinch when he knocks, don’t look surprised when you turn and see him there. You just open the window like you always do and smile that stupid, sleepy smile like he’s something worth waiting up for.
“Rough night, hotshot?”
He steps in without answering, still a little breathless, still caught in the way your oversized sweatshirt slips off your shoulder. There’s an old movie playing on your TV. Popcorn on the bedside table. One of his t-shirts folded neatly on the end of your bed.
He thinks, not for the first time, God, I’m so in love with her it’s pathetic.
“They asked about you again,” he mutters.
“Did you tell them I said hi?” you tease.
“Told them you’re amazing. And smart. And cool. And very very pretty.”
You raise a brow and pause for a moment. “Really?”
He grins and steps closer, pressing his forehead to yours. The heat of him rolls through the room, subtle and golden, like sunshine at midnight.
“Told them they don’t get to know the best part of my life.”
You go quiet at that. But your fingers find his and you give a small, gentle squeeze.
And just like that, he breathes easy again.
The popcorn goes untouched. The movie plays on, forgotten in the background, muted now beneath the steady sound of his breathing and the hush of city traffic beyond your window.
He sinks into your bed like he’s melting into it—like he only holds his shape when you’re near. Limbs long and heavy, firebanked for the night. His hand finds yours without thinking, fingers curling easily between yours, rough skin against soft.
“Come here,” he murmurs, already tugging you closer.
You don’t need convincing.
Cuddling with Johnny is like curling up with the sun. He runs hot all the time, not burning, not scalding, but a kind of deep, bone-deep warmth that seeps into you like it was made for you alone. His skin is always warmer than yours, like he’s got a sun hidden behind his ribcage. Like the rest of the world might make him wear heat-resistant suits and flame-proof gloves, but here… here, he’s just a space heater in a hoodie.
You climb into his lap, and his arms fold around you like second nature—his palm spreading across your lower back, his chin resting on the crown of your head.
He exhales, and his whole body softens.
“You’re gonna make me fall asleep,” you whisper.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“You’re a human furnace.”
“Actually, I'm a Human Torch.”
You smile against his neck and you both laugh.
He smells faintly like smoke and cologne, singed cotton and whatever soap he stole from your shower last week. One of his legs hooks lazily over yours. Your face fits perfectly against the curve of his neck, where his skin is warmest, like summer and safety all in one.
“You were tense earlier,” you murmur, voice barely audible over the quiet whir of your ceiling fan.
“Yeah,” he says. “I always am after stuff like that. Everyone asking questions. Looking for the version of me they like best.”
He doesn’t say it with bitterness. Just tired truth. But you feel the weight behind it anyway—the performance, the smiling, the careful answers. The way he never quite lets his shoulders drop until he’s here.
“You don’t have to be anything here,” you whisper, eyes drifting closed. “Just Johnny.”
His arms tighten slightly. You feel the press of his lips against your hair—gentle, quiet, real.
“Just Johnny,” he repeats.
The room fades into stillness. The light from the laptop flickers, blue and dim across the room. His heart beats steady beneath your ear, and his body radiates heat like it’s trying to lull you to sleep.
And maybe it works.
Because here, in the heart of a city that never stops moving, you’re wrapped in the arms of a boy that can catch on fire, and somehow, you’ve never felt more at peace.
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