you're the closest to heaven that i'll ever be — johnny storm
masterlist | part two
PAIRINGS: johnny storm x stark!female!reader
SUMMARY: in johnny's universe, you are his everything. that is until he weren't able to save you in time, and when they were pulled in another universe during a mission, he saw another version of you that is alive.
REMINDERS: please be reminded that this is a work of fiction. meaning that all events and occurrences in this story are all fictional and all are part of my imagination. any resemblance to actual life events and people, living or dead, are all purely coincidence.
WARNINGS: no use of y/n, multiverse, spiderman-esque fic, a little world building, open ending, idk what i'm doing but just roll with it, there are some inaccuracies, reader is not really a doctor doctor (phd in business 😁), everyone is alive !!!!!, and minor typographical errors.
WORD COUNT: 3.5k
AUTHOR'S NOTE: idk if this kind of fic had already been done before, but thus had been in my mind for quite sometime. some doesn't make sense, but i try to make sense of it iykyk lol. everyone is alive in this fic bc i said so!!!!!!!! i'm not sure if i want to write a part 2 of this, but i'll think about it (i'm just lazy lol). anyways, hope you guys enjoy this one!
It all started with a tremor. Not in the earth nor in the skies, but in reality itself. An unstable ripple tore through space-time over the ruins of what once was a Latverian outpost, long since abandoned but still dangerously volatile. The Fantastic Four had been dispatched to neutralize an energy spike that Reed had flagged suspicious. However, Reed had not anticipated just how deep the breach had already gone, or how the rift would pull them out of Earth-828 and all of a sudden slamming them into something, rather somewhere.
A new Earth. One that is teeming with familiar architecture and faint echoes of names they barely recognize, everything feels off.
Earth-616. They were lucky enough to land within the protected perimeter of the Avengers compound. Alarms had flared, and Stark AI systems immediately flagged their arrival as potential incursion, until Bucky, who was currently manning the base while the other Avengers were away, recognized their signatures. He had seen versions of them before. Well, sort of.
“Facial recognition in progress. Welcome, Jonathan Storm, Susan Storm, Reed Richards, Benjamin Grimm. Earth-828 identifiers not found in multiversal registry. Alert: cross-dimensional duplicates confirmed.”
“Facility overseer: Dr. Stark, Stark Industries Executive Director.”
You’ve always had a main conference room reserved on the 41st floor of the Stark Tower—sleek glass walls, walnut wood table stretching across the length of the room, and a buzzing holographic projection of global networks, economic forecasts, and defense analytics. The kind of environment you thrived in. A structured chaos, numbers and negotiations, walls that are tall enough to keep emotions out.
You had just shut down an aggressive pitch from a foreign investor, when your phone lit up on silent mode, flashing a name you rarely ignored. Bucky Barnes—very few people could pull you out of a board meeting, and he was one of them. You calmly and professionally excused yourself, and stepped out into the hallway, your heels clicking against the polished marble floors. You pressed the phone to your ear.
“Barnes?”
Bucky’s voice had that clipped tension you had come to know and recognize right away from past emergencies. “You need to get to the compound. ASAP. Something…or someone showed up. Four of them. Not exactly hostile, but not from here either.”
“And dad?” Your eyes narrowed slightly.
“Still off-world. Cap, Romanoff, Barton, Wanda, everyone’s out. It’s just me here, and them.”
“Alright, I’ll be there in ten, tops.”
That was enough to convince you to go back to the compound. You pivoted, already striding towards your own designated elevator, tailored blazer moving with each swift step. You didn't know then that in a different universe, you had died in Johnny Storm’s arms, and you also didn't know that he would crawl into this one.
The drive to the compound was a big blur of the city lights and thoughts. FRIDAY updated you the en-route, inter-dimensional signatures detected, arrivals confirmed not to be hostile, communications disrupted. Reed Richards, Sue Storm, Ben Grimm, and Johnny Storm—names you recognized from archived reports, not from this universe, but recognized them nonetheless.
Inter-dimensional incursions were not new to you anymore. The multiverse was a broken glass pane, cracked and scattered, forever shifting. But what matters the most was what, or rather who, fell through. By the time you stepped into the compound hangar, Bucky was already waiting. Dog tags, fitted tactical shirt, arms crossed, his vibranium arm flexed as though he was already on edge.
“They’re in the east wing.” Bucky muttered, walking beside you.
“Any aggression?”
“The stretchy one keeps talking science. The rock guy hasn't smashed anything. The woman’s assessing the area, and the fourth one…” he paused briefly. “He’s loud and impatient.”
You entered the main holding room, but it was more like a debrief lounge at this point—bright lights, reinforced walls, and monitors overhead. Reed, Sue, Ben, and Johnny turned simultaneously when you stepped in, confident and composed—Stark blood running through your veins. Commanding without even trying.
Reed tilted his head lightly, Sue regarded you with both caution and familiarity, Ben grunted something unintelligible under his breath, and Johnny…Johnny went still. You felt it, but you didn't know it, at least not yet. Still, there’s something about the way his expression crumbled for a split second, how his chest stilled and shoulders locked. It was as if the world had stopped rotating for him, and only to restart violently seconds later.
Grief really had a funny way of burning someone alive from the inside out. Johnny had seen your face a thousand times inside his dreams, broken memories, photographs that he could no longer bear to look at. In his universe, you had always been his everything—best friend, fiancée, and the woman who had seen through his flashy charm and fire-wielding ego, but most importantly, the man who could barely sit still long enough to talk about his feelings. You had called him out on his recklessness, you were the one who grounded him.
You had saved him, until he could not save you.
In his universe, he watched you die in his arms minutes before your wedding. He was too late. Johnny never forgave himself for what had happened, and he swore that he would never love anyone again. But now, here you were. Standing before him in a pressed charcoal suit, your Stark Industries pin clipped to your lapel, posture sharp and assertive. Your eyes, while familiar, did not carry the softness that haunted his memories.
You didn't know him. Not at all.
Johnny didn't even blink, and you had no idea why. You didn't even flinch, just crossed your arms slightly, assessing the four of them.
“I’m here on behalf of Stark Industries and the Avengers initiative,” you said calmly. “You are no longer in your home dimension. Earth-616, to be exact.”
Reed stepped forward. “That would explain the shift in vibrational frequency. I’m Dr. Reed Richards, and—”
“I know who you are,” your tone was polite, efficient, but firm. “My father had catalogued the Fantastic Four from multiple universes. Your presence here is abnormal, to say the least, but not entirely surprising.”
Sue exchanged a look with Reed, and Ben shrugged. But Johnny had not moved an inch. His eyes were fixed—burning, with something that is unspoken. Something that is agonizing. He took a shaky breath, stepping forward as though drawn to you by some invisible tether.
“You…” it spilled out of Johnny’s mouth. Barely a whisper, almost like a prayer.
You turned your gaze to him fully then. Johnny’s face—handsome, disheveled, bright blue eyes, and blonde hair slightly askew from whatever chaos they had come through. He looked at you with a strange devastation.
Johnny took another step, his voice breaking a little, with Bucky shifting closer, protective by default. “You’re alive…”
You raised a brow at him. “I don’t believe we have met before.”
Johnny blinked harshly, like he was holding back a tidal wave. He gave a small broken chuckle, but it was devoid of humor, only grief. “Yeah, we have. Or we had.”
“You must be confusing me with somebody else.” You said, remained composed, even as you felt something heavy settled inside the room.
Reed spoke up softly, cautiously. “Johnny, don’t.”
“You…you died in my arms. I couldn't save you,” his voice was raw, hands trembling. But Johnny didn't stop looking at you. “And you’re here. You’re…here. Alive and well.”
Sue closed her eyes briefly as though she had already witnessed this scene before. You inhaled slowly, calm but not cold. You glanced back at Bucky. There was a flash of concern in his eyes—he knew loss, and had recognized it immediately.
You turned back, locking eyes with Johnny. “I…I’m sorry about whatever had happened. But I’m not her.”
Johnny’s jaw clenched, but nodded slowly. It was a tough pill to swallow. “I know,” his voice was a broken whisper. “But you look exactly like her.”
In the silence that followed, you softened, just slightly. There was a small shift in your tone. “I understand. This must be very difficult for you.”
He laughed—painfully, soft, and reverent. “You have no idea.”
You eventually initiated the logistics—secure housing, containment, and possible ways to return them to Earth-828. Reed gave all the data needed as possible, Sue collaborated, while Ben asked about the whole place. Johnny remained mostly silent, but always near you—watching and haunted.
It was already late when the team arrived, finally back from their off-world assignment. The quinjet had landed just before midnight, kicking up a storm of dust and loose papers across the landing pad. But you did not need a visual, you already knew that they were here.
You waited exactly twelve minutes before heading down. The lights in the hallways were dimmed at night, polished steel and glass of the compound washed in cool, bluish tones, corridor screens still displayed Stark Industries dashboards—satellite updates, global activity patterns, neutral-linked alerts that are synced to your personal feed. The soft hum of machinery surrounding you—familiar and efficient.
When you reached the briefing room, the doors slid open automatically. The mood inside was markedly relaxed, war was over—for now. Whatever battle they had just returned from must have ended in their favor. There was no tension lingering in the air, only the calm disarray that followed adrenaline. The energy was warm, familiar—low laughter, scattered banter, bodies slouched in chairs, and armor half removed. Some had ditched their gear entirely.
They all looked up when you entered the room.
You quickly scanned the room quickly—Steve was leaning back in his seat, forearms resting on his thighs; Natasha stood behind him, arms folded, and a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth; Rhodey was beside Wanda, both of them in quiet conversation; Vision stood off to the side, as if waiting say his thoughts or opinions; Sam was perched casually near the end of the table; and both Bruce and Clint were in the middle of arguing over some minor mission detail. The only one that was not around was Thor, but you already knew he had returned to Asgard for a matter involving the bifrost.
Then there was your father. Tony was standing near the head of the table, his arc reactor glowing faintly beneath his black tactical undershirt, a half-empty espresso in one hand and a proud, tired grin on his face. You walked up to him, professional as ever despite the familial bond.
“Welcome back.”
“Hey, kiddo.” Tony said affectionately, arms open in invitation.
You allowed yourself the briefest lapse in composure, leaning in for a side hug, letting your hand rest on his back. Tony pressed a warm kiss to your temple, a gesture so casual, and deeply familiar that no one inside the room batted an eye.
“You cut another meeting short, didn't you?” He muttered low enough that only you could hear.
“Well I had to, Bucky called.”
“Always dragging you out of your high towers, huh?”
“Only when there’s something important,” you replied, pulling away from the side hug. “And this time, it was.”
“Alright, show me.” Tony’s tone shifted immediately to something serious.
“FRIDAY, let’s begin.” You turned towards the front of the room, and FRIDAY’s interface lit up at your voice command.
The room became silent as the lights dimmed, and the circular holographic projection table came alive, bathing the center of the room in cool light and flickering motion. You did not use the scripts, you didn't need them. You spoke clearly, posture straight, hands resting lightly on the edge of the table as you walked them through everything.
“Earlier today, four individuals arrived through what Dr. Reed Richards had identified it as an unstable inter-dimensional rift. Their molecular and vibrational signatures match that of Earth-828. They are currently contained and housed on-site under temporary status.”
A glowing map of the multiverse expanded across the table, folding over itself with rings and constellations of data. Earth-616 was centered in blue, while Earth-828 glowed in red.
“They call themselves the Fantastic Four. Their existence had been recorded in multiple other universes, though this is the first instance of confirmed cross-universal physical entry into our dimension from their team.” You continued.
FRIDAY had projected high resolution images; Reed’s molecular stretch in motion, Sue’s brief invisibility flicker, Ben’s stone form, and lastly, Johnny, surrounded by flame, hovering in the air with smoldering eyes. You noticed that from the corner of your version, Bruce’s interest.
“They are not hostile,” you clarified. “At least not at this time. Bucky did an initial assessment, and I’ve already spoken to all four.”
“They crash land into our universe and get a five star welcome?” Clint quipped, scratching his chin.
“They didn't crash,” you corrected. “They were pulled. They’re as stranded as anyone would be in their situation.”
Natasha stepped forward. “Do we know what caused the rift?”
“No, not yet,” you replied honestly. “Dr. Richards has a working theory involving harmonic convergence across layered multiversal tears, and one of those may involve our own previously recorded incursions.”
You paused. Then, with a subtle flick of your fingers across the hologram’s edge, you pulled up the compound’s schematics. “I’ve assigned them quarters in the east wing, and they’re secured. Not cells, but isolated enough that we can monitor movement and communication without giving them the impression of imprisonment.”
Rhodey let out a low whistle. “You did all that on your own?”
“I didn't think it's wise to wait for everyone to get back before making the decision.” You said plainly.
Steve nodded in approval. “Good call.”
“I also figured Bruce and Ben would either kill each other or get along splendidly,” you quipped with a faint smile. “So they’re currently as far from each other as the architecture allows.”
A ripple of low laughter passed around the table. Bruce glanced up with a soft smile. “What’s he like?”
“Gruff,” you said. “Surprisingly perceptive.”
“And the others?” Wanda spoke softly from her place near the corner.
“Well, Dr. Richards is brilliant, the kind of mind that could rebuild the whole compound from scratch with a coffee and screwdriver. Susan Storm has tactical precision, she’s already been memorizing layout grids. Then Johnny Storm…” you stopped yourself, a pause. Just long enough for Tony to glance at you. “Johnny Storm has a unique energy, one we should keep an eye on.”
“Flaming hothead,” Bucky offered dryly from the back of the room. “In every sense.”
You didn't bother to correct him, and you didn't speak again for a moment.
Tony folded his arms. “And you’re sure they’re not a threat?”
“If they were, we’d already know by now.” You met his gaze. “They’re shaken, stranded. But I believe they’re sincere.”
Another beat of silence passed. Then, FRIDAY’s voice filled the room. “Would you like me to archive the debrief for full internal access?”
“Yes,” you replied. “Log everything under multiversal priority class. Assign all access clearance to Level 4 and above. Thank you, FRIDAY.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Stark.”
The projection faded, and the room slowly returned to its normal brightness. You took a moment to glance around familiar faces. The family you didn't choose, but in some ways, had grown into. The world was always changing, but this room remained constant, and you took pride in that. However, you remained quiet and stood by the projection table. You could feel her eyes on you before she even spoke. Wanda.
Wanda hadn't moved, nor laughed. Hadn't looked away from you since the moment you faltered during your rundown of the Fantastic Four. Her gaze was calm but piercing, like there was some unspoken understanding etched behind her irises.
A quiet voice in your mind sighed, “you shouldn't be surprised.”
You quickly shot her a glance, lips were still. Wanda hadn't said anything aloud, she didn't need to. It was both a blessing and a curse for you, being known so easily by someone like her. You met her eyes just for a second, Wanda didn't press, at least not yet. But you knew she knew what was running through your mind.
You cleared your throat, drawing the room’s attention again before anyone could fully disperse. “There’s…” you trailed off. “There’s one more thing.”
The tone in your voice was measured with control, you slightly shifted in your balance, and put both hands inside the pockets of your trousers. Your action no doubt pulled everyone’s attention back to you instantly. Your father raised a brow, Natasha tilted her head, Bruce paused mid-step, Sam eased back down into his seat, and Wanda stayed motionless.
Like the good old fashioned way a Stark would break a news, you gave it to them straight.
“There’s a minor issue,” you kept your tone even, professional, though your fingers subtly tapped against the table’s edge. Once, twice, and a third time before you forced them still. “It concerns Johnny Storm.”
There was a sudden flicker of alertness around the room, like soldiers instinctively tightening their grip on imaginary weapons.
“He’s not dangerous,” you clarified quickly. “None of them are, that hasn't changed. But Johnny Storm recognized me somehow.”
“According to what I had gathered from Reed and Johnny himself, my counterpart was a significant person in his life.”
A beat passed, then you said it softly but clearly. It was a truth that felt so foreign and yet inexplicably close.
“In their universe, my counterpart was his fiancée.”
The room went very still, but you kept speaking, voice steady even as your heart betrayed you with its weight. “We were told that we were supposed to get married, but I died minutes before the ceremony. Johnny wasn't able to save her in time.”
You didn't add the rest, not aloud. You didn't say how broken Johnny looked the moment he saw you. How he said your name like it was the last thing anchoring him to reality. How your presence seemed to rip open something deep inside of him. Instead, you forced the breath out of your lungs.
“That’s why he looked at me like that, like I was a ghost. Well I’m not her, obviously. But I think seeing me like this—alive, here, breathing. It was disorienting for him. That’s all.”
Clint leaned back slightly, arms folded. “Damn.”
“That…” Bruce trailed off, frowning thoughtfully, half processing the emotional and multiversal implications. “That kind of trauma layered with alternate universe memory, that’s—”
“Dangerous,” Natasha finished, sharp-eyed. “Not just for this Johnny guy, but for her too.”
Wanda’s voice finally entered the conversation, soft and certain. “It’s not just a memory, he feels it. Every single part of it.” She turned her head towards you slowly, “you’re feeling it too.”
Your fingers curled subtly against the side of the table. Wanda didn't need to ask for permission, she never did because she already knew. Wanda had seen the thoughts that you tried to suppress, like static behind your composure. Not longing or recognition, none of those, but something shaken. Like there was a part of yourself that was trying to remember a dream that somebody else lived. You looked away from her, then back towards the rest of the room.
“But he’s not a threat,” you said again. “He hasn't done anything inappropriate—no aggression, no pushing boundaries. He’s just grieving, and that’s all this is. It does not compromise anything.”
Sam leaned forward. “And you? You good with this?”
“I don’t have a personal attachment, I don’t know him.” You said straightforwardly. “But I understand that for him, this might be difficult. So we treat it like any other psychological impact of multiversal travel. We keep boundaries, we observe.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Rhodey asked gently.
“Yes, and if anything changes, I’ll report it right away. But for now, we give him space, and treat him like we’d want to be treated if our world shattered beneath our feet.”
Your father clapped his hands once, decisively. “Alright, we’ll monitor the situation. But good call telling us, kiddo.”
“Guy crosses universes just to find out his fiancée is alive somewhere else. That’s heavy.” Clint quipped.
“Yeah,” Bucky muttered from behind him, arms crossed. “It is.”
You began collecting your datapad and hologrid controls. One by one, they gathered their gear, drifting out into the corridors with quiet goodnights or murmurs about late night snacks, showers, or sleep. Steve gave you a gentle pat on the shoulder as he passed, Clint threw you a crooked smile, and Bruce placed a hand on your back in a familiar gesture of calm reassurance as he walked past. Your father, Tony, gave you a hug—that fatherly kind, and told him that everything’s okay. Finally, the room emptied until it was just you and Wanda left. She stepped closer to you, voice low.
“I can help, if you want,” she said softly. “I can block him out, or help you anchor yourself if it ever feels too much.”
“Thank you, Wanda.” You replied softly. “I may take you up on that.”
Wanda touched your arm once more, and then slipped out of the room, leaving you and your thoughts alone again. You rubbed at your temple, the lights were low and the room was quiet.
You should get some sleep, you know that, considering you have an early morning meeting with a new investor. Yet, as you stood there all alone in the darkened debriefing room, your mind drifted unwillingly to Johnny again—to the way his voice trembled, the way he said that you died in my arms.
You were not her, but somehow, you felt haunted.
© rosecoloredsunshine, 2025
