22 year old nerd i tend to hyper-fixate on things (stranger things, star wars, taylor swift, broadway, D&D, critical roll, the bad batch, eddie munson etc)
WHY IS EVERYTHING SMUT WHY WHY WHY JS GIMME SOME HEARTWRENCHING ANGST OR TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF I DONT WANNA SEE THE WORD COCK FOR LIKE A WEEK STAAWWPPPPPUHHH
A post-episode 4 sweet Radioapple fic to cheer everyone up 🎁
I wanted to give Alastor some comfort after that scene with Vox and Valentino. He may be an asshole but poor deer is going through it, so please enjoy 7k words of Lucifer not giving up on him ❤️
Can be read as the start of a romantic relationship or a queer platonic relationship where they kiss sometimes because it’s fun 🎉
Featuring a heavy dose of shadow cuteness~
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
what if he's written mine on my upper thigh (only in my mind)
you've been on four dates with johnny storm. you don't think it's serious. he has a different idea in mind. (johnny storm x fem!reader)
AN: this fic is VERY LOOSELY based off that one lyric in guilty as sin that became the title. i usually don't write super shy or oblivious characters, but i am too obsessed with an opposites attract dynamic. so this is what came about. i hope u enjoy & lmk what u think!!!!! also not proofread again super sorry
WORD COUNT: 5.7k
“Briefing notes?”
“Check.”
“Final printed copy of the speech?”
“In a PDF format as well! Check.”
“Lozenges?”
In honey lemon. “Check!”
“Triple shot flat white?”
You don’t vocalize your opinion, but you felt like an old man ordering that at the coffee shop. “Check.”
“You’re getting good at this.”
You fight a blush, waving off Lynne’s praise.
It’s always daunting entering the Baxter Building (especially now more than usual), but you stick behind Lynne and follow her lead. The lift attendant ushers you both into the steel-lined elevator after you showed proper identification, and you’re off. You always get a bundle of nerves at this part; waiting to reach the actual living quarters of the building. But you’ve done it enough to know to stare at your shoes to avoid feeling nauseous. It’s only when you hear the ding do you look up, straightening out your work pants and making sure the coffee cup in your hand stays upright.
At first, you and Lynne are met with nothing but silence, which is quite unusual (usually there’s Ben in the kitchen, or H.E.R.B.I.E. watching baby Franklin by the couch, his various beeps that you don’t understand greeting you upon entering). You and Lynne don’t question it, though, her muttering something about a late morning while ushering you to the kitchen area where you put everything you’re holding on the counter.
It’s only when you feel like you’re taking your first breath of the day, hands cramped, do you hear footsteps bounding down the hallway, high heels clanking on the sleek floors.
Sue Storm strides in, the pinnacle of elegance. She takes one moment to dust off a piece of lint from her red long-sleeve, made of a material that you’re sure costs more than your weekly paycheck. She greets you both with a kind smile, “Good morning.”
“Hardly,” says Lynne, frowning. It took awhile to get used to the fact that Sue and Lynne’s friendship strung for many years that Lynne no longer bothers to give her an agreeable type of kindness that others seem to give at default for the Invisible Woman. “There’s a seventy-three percent chance of rain and the wind nearly ruined my hair.”
Sue snaps her fingers, regaining her memory. “I almost forgot my coat.” She’s bounding down the hallway again, calling for Reed, but not before telling you both to get yourself comfortable and ushering you to the stools in front of the kitchen island.
You don’t look at Lynne for approval before taking a seat, legs sore from the morning run your friend made you go on before work. You busy yourself by opening the manila folder that holds Sue’s UN speech, checking thrice for any grammar mistakes (if there are any, that’d be your fault and would no doubt be getting a scolding from Lynne).
You’re too immersed, brows drawn tightly together and lips mouthing each part of the speech. You don’t notice the soft footsteps entering the room, or the slight halt in the steps, before it continues to proceed in your direction.
A hand rests on the small of your back, finger splayed out on the material of your sweater.
You jolt, not expecting the contact.
You swivel the seat and are met with the eyes of Johnny Storm.
“I didn’t know you’d be here today,” he says flatly—a fact, yet there’s something else hidden beneath his tone. A slight surprise, maybe hurt, as if he expected you to let him know every time you’d be making an appearance in his vicinity.
His hand stays on your back.
You open your mouth to reply, though with what you’re not sure, but his movements stop you. He reaches his other hand to your face, thumbs brushing in between your eyebrows and smoothing out the furrowed line. “They’re gonna get stuck like that.”
You glance at Lynne. She has a compact in her hand, angling the mirror at a stray piece of hair, pretending not to notice.
When you look back, Johnny’s eyes are still on you. Observing, memorizing, whatever it is he does.
Your association with Johnny is… new. You’ve been on a few dates, four to be exact, and each time your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you returned home and he’s already calling to schedule a new one. You’re unsure if you’re part of a rotation of girls, or if you’re the only one he’s seeing. You don't think it's the latter. You’re too shy to ask. What you do know, however, is that you’re certainly not seeing anyone else. Dating is a fickle thing for you, really, and you had only agreed to going out with Johnny because he’d been incredibly persistent. Plus, it is an undeniable and unmoving fact that he is—to the eyes of all—incredibly attractive. You never had it in you to say no.
You feel your face warm up at the intensity of his gaze, looking down briefly at your ballet flats to collect yourself. You look back up and manage a small smile, hoping it comes as casual and not the complete mess you feel inside.
You’re quiet—a plain fact that even Johnny has to have already gotten used to. Words don’t leave your mouth as you hoped it would. You imagine saying something that would elicit a smirk, or something. Instead, you remain silent.
If he notices your nerves, he doesn’t say anything. Just glances behind you at the counter before his eyes light up. “‘That the big speech?”
You nod, instinctively turning and moving the paper to the side and in Johnny’s line of vision to read. You feel the heat of him press against your back.
He pretends to scan the page. His eyes dot over the little notes on the margin, arrows pointing before and between words. His mouth crinkle upwards when he notices the tiny smiley face you’ve written after a particular note, commending Sue on a certain sentence. “So professional,” he says coolly.
Sue finally comes back down the hallway, coat splaying on her arm. She notices you and Johnny and a knowing smile plays on her lips. “Time to go. Are you done flirting with my assistant, Johnny?”
“Not yet,” he rapidly replies, barely sparing his sister a glance before his eyes shift to you and he smiles. It’s small, but carries the weight of mischief and reassurance. “So—how about dinner tonight?”
You blink. “Tonight?”
“Yeah. When you’re done with all this UN business.” His tone is light, but there’s a shift in his eyes like he’s unsure of whether or not your answer will be yes. Hope flickers.
You hesitate, aware of Sue and Lynne’s attention and the fact that your heart is beating way too fast. “I’ll see how late we’re there.”
“That’s not really the answer I was hopi—“
“Johnny,” Sue’s voice cuts through, demanding but light. “I’ll make sure she’s back in ample time if you can let us go.” She frowns at Lynne apologetically. “We’re already running late.”
They’re actually running early, but Lynne has always been a stickler for time. Sue seems to know that.
Johnny grins, as if the answer is as good as yes. “I’ll take it.” He pushes off the counter, standing tall with a kind of confidence only the Human Torch can carry. He leans in and brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, eyes scanning your nervous face. “Try not to frown too much until then.”
The weight of Sue and Lynne’s gazes on you is strong.
You try your best to ignore it, following them down the building and into the waiting car.
—
The UN conference goes by smoothly (for the most part), you not really doing much except standing to the side with Lynne while Sue delivers her speech with natural poise. At one point, a reporter walked up to you—nervous, unassuming you—to see if they could get the scoop of something, anything, on Sue Storm. You stared blankly at the reporter, not being trained for anything like this, until Lynne yanked your arm and said unequivocally, “We won’t be taking any questions.” The interaction was over soon after it started, but had left you shaken up, cursing at yourself for not knowing what to do.
The interaction still haunts you as you toe off your flats upon entering your apartment, slinging your bag down on the floor as you make your way to the couch and flop. You wonder if the reporter approached you because maybe you looked too meek to deny anyone a question. You hate that feeling. You always thought a job like yours would be a great way to make an impact while still staying away from the spotlight and glamour of politics, but clearly you had been wrong. Especially if you’re affiliated with someone from the Fantastic Four.
You’re contemplating your life decisions when your chubby tabby, Kiwi, curls himself around your right leg. He sniffs lightly at your work pants before nuzzling his head softly on your shin. You smile, reaching down to pluck the docile animal from the floor and lay him carefully in your arms.
“You don’t have to worry about the press, do you, Kiwi?” you say softly to the cat in your arms, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “Well neither do I—anymore, at least. Let’s feed you.”
You make your way to your small kitchen and into the cupboards until you find Kiwi’s food. Your nervous system calms down at the mundanity, continuing your late-afternoon routine of making sure the bowl of food and water is full. When you’re sure that Kiwi is properly satisfied, you leave him and walk into your bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes.
You’re slipping off your blazer and blouse, eyes rummaging through your array of t-shirts in your drawer to see which one would be the comfiest to slip on. You pick a tattered college tee, the one where it slips off your shoulders to combat the light warmth with a pair of shorts to match. They have kiss marks printed in a straight pattern, something a friend got you for Valentine’s Day. It’s silk and feels nice on your skin. You slip off the remaining rings that adorn your fingers and hoop earrings, delicately placing them on a tray over your dresser. You breathe in relief, finally feeling normal again.
This is how the rest of your night goes, rummaging through your pantry for a snack and coddling Kiwi on the couch as you sift through various channels on your television. You’re praising Kiwi as he lets out continuous purrs on your lap when there’s a knock on your door.
Your head jolts us, eyebrows furrowing as you gently set Kiwi to the side before making your way to the door.
You open your door curiously, a hint of nerves, only to be met with Johnny.
Your nerves suddenly make more sense.
Your eyes angle up to meet his expression, one showing a bit of alarm.
“Who were you talking to?” he asks plainly, peering into your apartment.
You follow his line of vision, taking in everything he is. There’s a bunch of scattered papers, copies of the latest speech, on your small dining table. Various blankets litter your couch and you have two bottles of polish (one a top coat) on your rug. One part of the string lights you hung around your living room dangles down from when a tack broke and you were too lazy to fix it. Kiwi nudged a few pieces of kibble from his bowl and onto the floor.
It’s definitely not a sight to see for guests.
The silence stretches as you don’t have it in you to reply. What would you say? You were talking to your cat?
Thankfully, Johnny doesn’t wait for your reply. He peers down at your face, a lackluster and slightly disappointed expression. “Sue said you were too tired for dinner.”
You do remember telling Sue that, apologetically asking her to relay the information to Johnny since you probably wouldn’t see him for the rest of the day. It was a little embarrassing, a little scary, as you deny seeing Johnny to his sister. But still, she gave you a kind smile and said that she would tell him.
“But that never usually stops Johnny,” she added after, to which you only offered her a half-smile before scurrying off to Lynne’s side.
You should’ve known he’d show up.
“Sue said to leave you alone to, you know, de-stress, or whatever,” he flails a hand up to convey that he saw that advice as useless. “But you need to eat.”
It’s then that you look down and see the brown bag in his other hand, and the familiar waft of food hits your nose. Your stomach growls.
He hears it, the corners of his mouth turning up.
“It’s from that place you talked about. Chiu’s Garden, remember?”
The shock in you passes like a splash of cold water. You do remember. You said it in passing, once, about the Chinese takeout you get when work gets too busy and the ache in your head gets hard to manage and you don’t want to cook. You had their number memorized, and the workers there greeted you by name. The place isn’t what shocks you. It’s the fact that Johnny of all people remembers.
There are many things you want to say. Starting with Thank you and I hope you plucked the sauce that’s on the counter before you left. But mostly How do you remember?
If Johnny notices your shock at the gesture, he doesn’t comment. Only raising a single eyebrow at you. “Can I come in?”
You realize you haven’t spoken yet. “Are you a vampire?”
The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, unsure if you meant it as a joke or if it just slipped out because it’s the first thing your mind went to.
Johnny stifles a laugh. “A vampire?”
Well, now you clearly have to give him an explanation. “Vampires need permission to be let into private areas.” There’s a hint of embarrassment in your voice, and you curse yourself once again for not knowing what to say and saying the wrong thing.
He peers at you, eyes squinting and assessing your face. “What have you been watching lately?”
You shrug. You don’t tell him you watched the Scars of Dracula while you were finalizing the last of Sue’s speech the night before. Or how you got fully immersed into it. Or how you talked to Kiwi about how thankful you are that you don’t have a roommate to let unknown strangers into your apartment.
“Well, I’m no vampire,” he says.
There’s a playful lilt to his voice, and you realize now that you might be in on a joke you created. Not wanting to disappoint him or bring the mood down because, hey, you’re not in on a lot of jokes, you take a long backwards step back into your apartment. “Prove it.”
Johnny responds by taking a similar long step into your apartment, now standing right in front of you. Your chest nearly meets his as he looks down at you with a smirk. Your heart stutters, and you hope the lack of space between you two doesn’t mean that he can hear it. “See?”
You manage a small nod, walking around him to shut your door. You think your stomach might start doing backflips if you stay that close to Johnny, mind unsure if it’s a rush of nervousness or excitement.
He seems to take your interaction as an acceptance that he’s allowed to be here, in your apartment, and though he’s never been inside, he quickly assesses the layout and walks towards your kitchen.
Kiwi looks as if to say, you let a man into the apartment.
Your eyes reply, I didn’t know he was coming!
“I know I didn’t show it—“ Johnny calls out from the kitchen. You hear the crinkle of the brown bag and food being brought out. “—but I was really nervous that I knocked on the wrong apartment. I only ever walked you to the front of the building!”
You pad the small way to the kitchen, peering in to see him open a plastic container and dip his fingers in to snipe a piece of broccoli.
“I had to look at each door to find your last name,” he says through a mouthful of broccoli. “Thank God you live on the second floor, right?” He turns to meet your eyes, giving you a close-lipped, goofy smile that has your mouth threatening to smile back. When he swallows, he motions to all the cupboards above him. “Do you usually eat with plates or out of the container? Also I brought you orange soda.”
“I—I just eat out the container,” you say softly, leaning against the entryway, arms crossed.
“Perfect! Me too.” He gathers the food into his arms in a perfect balance, picking up the soda can last before motioning past you. “C’mon. Let’s eat.”
You watch him maneuver your apartment with ease, as if it isn’t the first time he’s been here. He tiptoes past Kiwi’s kibble on the floor and barely manages to knock down a picture frame that sits at the edge of your coffee table. He mutters an apology before putting the food down and sitting on your couch. “So what are we watching—oh. Hello.” He peers down at your cat, who stares back at him blankly. “Is this the infamous Kiwi? Is this who you were talking to?” He reaches his hand out and scratches behind Kiwi’s ear tentatively, unsure if he would be squeamish or not. Unsurprisingly, Kiwi leans into his touch. Johnny is delighted “We’re going to have great conversations,” he whispers, as if keeping a secret between him and the cat.
You find the sight awfully endearing. You don’t realize you’ve been staring as long as you have until Johnny turns his head to stare at you. “You coming?”
You timidly make your way to the couch, now unsure of how to feel at place in your home when Johnny Storm is in it. Johnny Storm, who despite four dates, you’ve barely gotten used to. You like him (obviously, you’ve let him take you out continuously), but you’re still unsure of what he is to you. The ambiguity of your relationship to him is much easier to stomach when he’s across from you at a restaurant booth, or walking in the park with fresh air around you.
Now—here—with him on your couch, you don’t think you understand your relationship with him all too well. You wonder if he shows up at other dates’ houses like this; their favorite takeout and a soft smile that can quiet any ache. You wonder how different the other girls he sees are from you; if they stumble on their words despite ample practice.
You take a seat on the other end of the couch, Kiwi already taking up space in the middle. You angle yourself to face him, legs tucked under you with your arms still crossed.
“You’re too far away,” he says plainly, as if stating a fact instead of discontentment. “But I have a feeling he’s not going to move anytime soon, is he?”
This gets a laugh out of you, looking down at Kiwi, who blinks slowly at your face. “He’s the boss.”
Johnny lets out a tsk tsk, shaking his head with a grin. “I should’ve known. Guess I’m gonna have to share you tonight.”
The rest of the night goes like this: Johnny shows the various things he bought you from the Chiu’s Garden menu, as he was unsure of what to get you. He has a delightful expression as you express that you like all of them. He pumps a fist in the air and you laugh, leaning down from the couch to pick your food of choice from the coffee table. He makes sure to give you a review of everything he tries, and he’s deeply satisfied, muttering about how you two need to go back together next time. Something flutters in your stomach at the mention of a next time.
Eventually, Kiwi grows bored of the Ted Gilbert Show and hops off the couch, lightly swaying as he makes his way into your bedroom for some peace and quiet. Johnny takes that as an opportunity to sit closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and reaching his other to rest on your knee. He barely pays attention to the ministrations his thumb does on your knee, but it affects you greatly. You, again, wonder if he does this to other girls he’s with. You wonder if it’s stupid that you feel so special.
“Hey.”
You look up at him, brows already furrowed from how hard you were thinking.
“What did I say?” he scolds softly, his hand on your knee leaving as he reaches his thumb in between your eyebrows again. “They’re gonna get stuck like that.”
—
When you’re not suffering from severe imposter syndrome as you play assistant with Lynne for Sue, you’re taking up extra shifts at the coffee shop down your street. You’ve been working here since you were eighteen and trying to pay for college. Now, you’re a little older and trying to pay your college debts. Still, you know the owner, and they’re more than willing to pay you under the table for your efforts to keep the shop afloat when you can.
The line isn’t long and you’re striking up a conversation with Miss Sutton, a regular, as she fishes her purse for change.
“And, Freddie—“ she says, her eyes down at her bag, “—he keeps crying. He’s getting old. ‘Vet said he might be going blind in his right eye.”
Your heart lurches immediately as you imagine yourself in that position; Kiwi growing old and going blind. But he’s only four and you make sure to take him to regular checkups. “I’m so sorry, Miss Sutton,” you say honestly. “Maybe he and Kiwi can have a play date! It might cheer him up.”
She places a few dollars onto the counter and looks at you flatly. “Or remind him of what he no longer has.”
Well, that took a turn.
You smile tensely at the older woman, taking the dollars and commit yourself to counting them instead of making the conversation worse. So much for comfort. She’s fifty cents off, but you don’t mention it.
You busy yourself with making chamomile tea, which is one of the easier orders you’ve had all day (you love a good macchiato with lavender syrup with the nice cold foam on the top, but it’s a fucking hassle to make). You hum a little to yourself, in your element at a place you’re comfortable in. Thoughts of a sick Kiwi and a grumpy Miss Sutton exit your mind.
The bell over the door dings, alerting you of a new customer. You pass the finished drink to your coworker as she finishes heating a pastry. You dust off your hands and turn around.
“Hello, welcome to—“
You’re met with blue eyes, blond hair, and an accusatory look.
Your mind goes blank.
Johnny doesn’t wait for you to finish your obligatory customer greeting, “You’ve been overworking yourself.”
“I—what?”
“You were with Sue all day Tuesday, you cancelled our date yesterday to take a shift here and had an emergency meetup with Lynne, and now you’re back today. You’re overworking yourself.”
You want to say that this is actually what normal people do to make a living, but you don’t say that. Instead, you stare up at his unrelenting gaze and gulp. “Aren’t you—“ your voice comes out squeaky and you clear your throat. “Aren’t you, like, a superhero? You save Earth for a living.”
He shrugs off your answer like it’s nothing.
Beside you, your coworker takes note of Johnny, and gasps.
You both turn your head to the sound.
“You weren’t lying?” she says, mouth wide. “You’re friends with Johnny Storm?”
Johnny immediately looks offended. “Friends?”
“Viv,” you say, ignoring him, “can you go to the back and make sure Hal is done with the croissants batch? We’re out up here.”
Viv looks at you as if to say, you’re kicking me out as if Johnny Storm isn’t right here?
You manage a harsher look, and she’s off, muttering something about getting her camera. You hope to God out of embarrassment that she doesn’t. Johnny visits your place of work and the first thing that happens is your coworker ambushes him. And know he knows that you talk about him.
“I’m sorry about her, I’ll tell her to put her camera away,” you say.
Johnny looks at you, brows furrowing before shaking his head rapidly. “I don’t care about a photo. I care about you. When was the last time you took a break for yourself? Doesn’t Kiwi miss you?”
“… I did a face mask last night,” you say dumbly. You leave out the part where you were on the phone with an airline company until 2AM because you stupidly booked the wrong time for Sue and Reed’s flight to Chicago, face mask forgotten and on for hours while you tried to fix your mistake before Lynne noticed.
The admission seems to calm him down a bit, shoulders sagging as his mind recalibrates. “When do you get off here?”
You don’t really have set shifts, you’ve been here since 10AM and helping out any way you can. Hal had you making croissants with him for two hours until Viv asked for your help at the front. Now, it’s 5PM and the sun is getting ready to set—and you hate that Johnny is right, because you feel wrung out. Your body suddenly becomes more alert of the ache on your temples, and the emptiness of your stomach.
“I can technically leave whenever.”
His eyes light up. “Perfect! You’re leaving now. Grab your coat.”
“Johnny—“
“You can go,” a voice behind you says.
You turn to see Hal and Viv standing together by the door to the back, eyes wide in wonder as they continue to stare at Johnny. It’s a look you recognize from the amount of times you’ve spent with him. It’s why Johnny takes you to restaurants and you get seated at the most private corner, or why he wears sunglasses and a cap in the dead of winter when you stroll through the park. You appreciate the efforts Johnny goes to be unnoticed—knowing you don’t like the attention. But you wonder if that’s just how he’s been going around publicly lately; unnoticed. You realize it’s been awhile since you’ve seen a tabloid of him walking a girl down the street, or a blurry photo of him in a store with someone. Maybe he’s tired of the cameras.
“Are you sure?” you ask Hal.
He nods, taking his eyes away from Johnny to give you a softer look. “Croissants are done, I have Viv to work like a dog—“
“Hey!”
“—we’ll be just fine. Have fun with your friend.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you fight the blush that threatens to coat your cheeks.
You’re too busy going to the back to grab your coat and purse to notice the shock on Johnny’s face. You give one last goodbye to Hal and Viv before you leave the counter to join Johnny’s side. He waits for you to slip on your coat before placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you out the shop.
You swear you hear a click from Viv’s camera.
You breathe in the fresh, cool air the second you’re out on the street. You watch as Johnny inconspicuously slips on a pair of sunglasses and pulls the hood of his coat up.
He’s silent as you both walk the short distance to your apartment, which is unusual. Usually, he’s already talking your ear off about his day, or something Ben has cooked since he knows your affinity with anything cooking or baking-related. You usually stay silent when he gets like that, listening intently and only giving your input when he manages to force it out of you (even after all this time, you’re still nervous).
But there’s none of that today. Silence stretches even as you enter your apartment building, him holding the door open for you, and as you pat the snow from your boots onto the rug (normally, this is where Johnny says something stupid, like how you both look like ducks shaking water off by a pond). You walk up the stairs and open your apartment door, still silent.
Your stomach churns nervously. You wonder if Johnny is mad at you—for overworking, as he says. If the concern has stretched into anger. Or if Hal and Viv’s peering eyes,, and knowing of him, threw Johnny off, realizing you’re just like any other person who brags about his existence. But it’s not like that! You wonder if you’ve ruined what you and he have—whether you know what you guys are or not.
Finally, as both of your coats have been shrugged off and left on the hook by your door—
“I’m your friend?”
You look up from where you were staring at the floor and furrow your brows. “Hm?”
“That’s how they talked about me,” he says, and you know he’s referring to Hal and Viv. “They said I’m your friend. Is that how you talk about me?”
He stares at you, eyes searching your own as you try to string together a response. “Um… yeah?”
Because you don’t know what else to call Johnny. Johnny who takes you to the most private parts of a fancy restaurant, and brings you takeout when you’re tired, and shows up to work to make sure you haven’t been burnt out. Johnny who now looks down at you with a pained expression, for reasons you’re a little unsure of why. Isn’t that what people are in whatever stage you and Johnny are in? Friends? Isn’t he seeing other people?
Johnny exhales sharply through his nose, walking up to you and shaking his head as if your answer had been outlandish. “That’s really what you think we are?”
Your lips part, but you don’t answer. He’s standing so close now that you can see the faint tint of pink on his nose from the cold. His breath fans down at you. You try to imagine what Johnny wants to hear, but still, you’re unsure. “You and I…” you say slowly, “We’re—what else would we be?”
His jaw ticks. “Together.”
Together. As in, you and Johnny. You think about Johnny walking you to your door, eyes lingering at your lips but he moves to kiss your cheek and you’re convinced you’d just imagined it. Johnny, who has admitted to looking for restaurants with similar dishes to ones you’ve cooked, so you can compare (“I bet yours is better,” he says plainly, taking another bite. “Do you agree? Or are you too modest?”). Johnny and his thumb that grazes the middle of your eyebrows because they’re gonna get stuck like that.
You blink at him, voice small. “Together?”
Johnny genuinely looked confused at your confusion. His brows knot in the way he always tells you to stop doing. “Yeah? Like dating. Together-together. What did you think this was?”
Heat crawls up the back of your neck, mortification and disbelief tangling in a mess that makes it hard to think. “I—I thought you were just being… you know. Nice. How you treat the other girls.”
His head jerks back. “'The other girls'? Well first, nobody’s that nice. At least, not like I have been. I’ve only ever been like this with you.”
Your stomach turns at the admission.
“Second, what other girls? You think I’ve been seeing other people?”
You’re too embarrassed to answer, because you know your answer would be yes. Instead, you huff a large sigh and press your palms to your eyes. “I don’t know what to think right now, Johnny.”
You hear him sigh softly. Two hands reach your wrists. “Hey, hey,” he coos, tone soft as he gently pries your hands away from your eyes. You’re immediately met with a blue storm, swirling with thought and something else that you’re unsure how to name. “I’m sorry if I stressed you out, okay? Come here.”
He envelopes you in a hug, warm and all-encompassing, the kind that makes you realize just how cold the outside has made you without noticing. His chin rests against the top of your head.
Your arms hover at your sides at first, stiff with hesitation. But as you slowly think through Johnny’s words, you melt into him. The exhaustion from the conversation, from work, from everything presses down harder, and the steadiness of his heart against your head makes something inside you settle.
Johnny thinks you too are together.
You wonder how stupid you must really be for not noticing.
“We’re together,” you say softly into his chest, breathing him in.
“We are,” he says, a whisper.. “I’m sorry for not making it more… known. I thought you knew.”
“No,” you say, shaking your head and laughing a little.
“I didn’t know. I’m too in my head about this, you know?” you admit meekly, your mind now re-assessing every interaction you’ve ever had with the boy against you. Re-assessing with the word EXCLUSIVE over every single memory.
The two of you stay tangled in each other’s arms until a small meow interrupts your moment, Kiwi coming to curl around your feet. You untangle yourself from Johnny to pick up the cat, resting his body against your chest as you turn to the side so that Kiwi’s head is facing Johnny.
“Kiwi, this is my boyfriend. I bet you knew that already, didn’t you?” There’s a glee in your voice that has Johnny lighting up, reaching down to give Kiwi a kiss on his head.
“He’s all-knowing,” he adds with a grin. He reaches out to caress your cheek, pulling you back in, Kiwi in the middle. He sighs happily. “You better reintroduce me to Hal and Viv,” he whispers softly into your hair.
Summary : It's been months since that fateful day on Eriadu and all you've been able to do is lie in Techs bunk and try to come to terms with him being gone, until you get a comm that changes everything...
Pairings : Tech x Fem!reader
Warnings : ANGST, mentions of techs death, mentions of omegas kidnapping, grief, mourning the dead, fluff
Words : 2.6k
A/N : This was the season finale that we all deserved season 2. For all my Tech girlies I hope this heals you (because this is the only ending I accept for our genius)
masterlist here
You were numb.
You lay in Tech’s bunk, where you had been laying and rotting for the last few months, the silent tears streaming down your cheeks as you stared at the scribbles on the walls. Tech had told you what they were at one point, but you couldn’t remember any more making you even more upset than you already were.
You can hear Hunter and Wrecker whispering in the cockpit, “What should we do? I can’t see her like that anymore.”
“Tech wouldn’t want her to lie there grieving him like this...”
Grieving him. That’s all you’ve been trying to do for months and your still not better, you thought time would help you heal, but your just stuck. Stuck in your grief as you spend all your time lying in his bunk, smelling his pillow that no longer smells like him, looking at the scribbles on the wall trying to decipher what they mean, while you yearn for the man you love that’s never coming back.
You were so happy and hopeful the morning of the mission, wanting nothing more than to find the info to lead the boys back to their missing brother, you hadn’t expected that it would be the worst day of your life. You remember blaster fire and explosions, Wrecker yelling down to Tech from inside the cable car, you were holding Omega tightly making sure she wouldn’t fall. You could hear the arguments back and forth and then you heard the words that haunt you every night since.
“Plan 99...”
“Tech no!”
You let go of Omega and launch yourself forward, Wrecker grabbed your arm to stop you from jumping after him. You can still see him falling, still see him mouthing the words “I’ll always love you” as he fell to his death and you could do nothing but watch. The cable car started moving at full speed and Wrecker held you tightly as you sobbed uncontrollably, fighting to jump after him, but he held you back as his own tears fell. The rest of the mission was a blur, you don’t remember how you got out, how you got back on the marauder or Omega trying to go back for Tech. Hunter told you that you fainted and when you came too Cid had betrayed you and Hemlock took Omega, making you all lose not one member of your squad but two.
You know Hunter and Wrecker are doing everything to get Omega back, all while trying to help you grieve the loss of Tech while they process their own grief of what happened. You felt like a burden not being able to continue the way the boys have. You know there struggling too but where they are still fighting, you are paralyzed in your grief. Like Tech didn’t just die that day, you did too.
You hear the boys enter the hull and you roll over pretending to sleep, hoping that maybe if you pretend long enough, real sleep will take you...
...
You had spent the better part of three years loving Tech, from the moment you first got assigned as the bad batch’s medic. You walked onto the marauder and as you looked over all the clones that you’d be working with, your heart started fluttering the moment you and Tech made eye contact, and that was all it took. As you grew closer to the boys your feelings for Tech became more apparent, and each of the members had tried to get you to confess, but you weren’t brave enough. Then you all deserted with Omega and left Crosshair, your life was too messy, and you didn’t want to strain the already stressful situation with your feelings for him, so you kept quiet. Life carried on and one night after a particularly rough mission you sat outside the marauder alone looking up at the stars.
You knew it was Tech before he even sat down beside you, you could hear his gear clink, his goggles shift focus, the little tapping of his hands on his sides he does when he’s nervous, those were your favourite sounds. He looked up at the stars with you, “Are you alright?”
Were you? It had been so many close calls over the past few months but there in the quiet of night looking up at the stars with the man you’ve loved for years you felt anything but fine. “I don’t think so... I’m.... tired.”
“Yes, that is an appropriate response to our current lifestyle.” he says turning to look at you.
You sigh as you look into his beautiful amber eyes, “I am tired because of that but also I am tired of not being brave enough.”
“I do not understand, by all definition you are brave. You work with us, and when we decided to leave with Omega you left too. You had no obligation to come with us, but you did anyway, and you’ve been with us ever since helping with Omega, being a female role model she needs,” Tech says holding out his hand to which you grab with yours, a blush on your cheeks, “You are selfless, kind, strong and above all else brave.”
Your eyes water as you squeeze his hand, “and yet all these years I’ve never been brave enough to tell you I love you...”
He freezes and looks at you with wide eyes, “you... love me?”
“Yes, I do. I have for a long time, but I’ve never been brave enough to confess. I’m tired of pushing those feelings to the side, even if you... don’t feel the same I-”
He pulls you toward him, your hands still intertwined and kisses you. It was a slow gentle kiss, his hands shaking in yours and he smiles sheepishly as he pulls away, “I harbor feelings for you as well...”
He lets go of your hands and gently wipes away the tears you didn’t realize were falling. You feel his breath on your lips and see the sparkle in his eyes, making your heart flutter, “You do?”
“Yes. I... I love you too.” he whispers.
You grab the back of his neck and pull him in for another kiss, surprising him at first but he smiles into the kiss and pulls you closer to him sitting you on his lap. You two spend the rest of the evening sharing kisses under the night sky, whispering sweet nothings to each other, not knowing that only days later you would lose each other forever.
...
Ping!
You jolt awake to the darkness of the marauder. Hunter and Wrecker are both asleep in their bunks while Gonky walks around quietly, occasionally bumping into the ships consol. You get up and stumble your way to the fresher so you can splash some water on your face. Once out of the fresher you figure since your already up, you’ll make yourself a cup of caf and try to spend some time outside of Tech’s bunk.
Ping!
You pause and walk over to Techs bunk pulling out your comm device from under the pillow.
1 new message.
You haven’t gotten a message on your personal comm channel for a long time, to the point where you forgot that you had it. Without really caring you open the message and gasp dropping your comm on the floor, making Hunter jolt awake.
“Y/n? Are you okay? What's wrong?” he asks jumping out of his bunk to you checking for injuries.
You couldn’t even speak, the tears fell like rivers and your whole body was shaking. You reach down and grab your comm from the floor not believing what you're seeing. Wrecker stirs awake and turns toward you and Hunter confused, “What’s happening?”
There on your comm a series of coordinates and a name. Goggles.
The nickname you’ve called Tech for the last three years, the nickname only you and the batch know. It can’t be...
Both boys stand beside you confused as you hold your comm so tight your knuckles are turning white. Without saying another word, you run to the cockpit and fire up the ship, typing in the coordinates.
“Woah! Y/n you need to stop and tell us what's going on right now!” Hunter says exasperated. He knows how hard it's been for you, and he was almost ready to give up that you may not come back around but seeing you get up and move around again gave him a whole new fright.
You turn around harshly, “He’s alive. He’s alive Hunter!”
“What do you mean?” Wrecker asks as Hunter stands there looking at you stunned.
You hand Hunter the comm device and as he reads the message, he almost drops the device, “He... can’t be...”
Wrecker takes the device from Hunter and reads it, “Goggles... Kriffin hell, is he?”
The boys look at each other in stunned confusion as you pilot the ship off the abandoned world you were resting on and take off into hyperspace. Your whole body is shaking, the tears won’t stop falling from your eyes, and you feel like you're going to throw up, but none of that matters as you race towards the hope that your lover is still alive.
...
As you come out of hyperspace and approach the coordinates on this jungle planet, you start to think that maybe you are walking into a trap, but it's too late to go back now. The marauder lands and Hunter looks at the camp ahead of you all confused, “Is that... Gerrera?”
Your heart is in your throat, and you start to think that maybe this was just stupid wishful thinking. Techs goggles sit on the ships consol cracked, broken, the only tangible thing you have left of him, and the only thing you could never bring yourself to look at since Eriadu. Wrecker places a big hand on your shoulder, seeing you stare at the goggles with tears flowing from your eyes, “Hey... were here with you no matter what.”
You look up at him and grab his hand tightly, “I know. Thanks big guy...”
“Let’s go.” Hunter says as he looks at the two of you. You nod as you squeeze Wreckers hand tighter afraid to let go and the three of you leave the marauder heading towards the camp.
Waiting for the three of you was Saw Gerrera, his arm in a sling. He looks at you all with a look of annoyance and something else you can’t place, “Glad you could make it.”
“You sent the message?” Hunter asks confused and hurt.
Your surprised you still had tears to shed with the amount of crying you’ve done over the past few months but still, tears fell from your eyes and with them the small bit of hope you held onto. Gerrera looks between the three of you and lands his gaze on you, “Are you y/n?”
You nod not trusting your voice. Gerrera tilts his head over to a tent, “in there.”
You pause not understanding what’s going on but hesitantly you let go of Wreckers hand and walk towards the tent. Inside lying on a cot was a figure you thought you’d never see again. His hair was longer, the curls peeking through, his leg was in a cast, and he looked pale, but as you seen the rise and fall of his chest as he slept you began to sob. Hunter and Wrecker stood behind you frozen not comprehending what was happening.
The three of you didn’t move, you just watched Tech sleep, looking peaceful despite the injuries, like he didn’t just come back from the dead. Hunter whips around to Gerrera angry, “What are you doing with him here? How is he alive?”
Gerrera smirks, “After our encounter on Eriadu I had what I can only describe as a gut feeling. We turned back around and seen Hemlock and his team trying to drag your boy here away. We managed to rescue him before he could take him away and brought him back here.” He walks closer to the entrance of the tent, “He’s been asleep all these months. We didn’t know if he’d wake up, but we treated his injuries and hoped for a miracle. Then yesterday he shot awake calling out your name y/n. He repeatedly told me that I had to send you, his coordinates.”
You sobbed even harder as you walked towards him, falling to your knees in front of the man you love. Gently you stroke your hand down his cheek, and he stirs awake, looking confused until his eyes land on you. He lies there frozen as tears begin to pool in his eyes and without a word, he grabs you and pulls you onto him ignoring the pain from his injuries. His hands in your hair, he breathes in deep inhaling your scent as a sob escapes him.
Your shaking, crying, and hyperventilating as he holds you tightly. He leans back just enough to see your face and gives you a small smile his voice shaky, “Hi darling...”
“Hi, my love.” you whisper as if speaking any louder could burst your reality and he’ll leave you again. He looks up for a moment behind you and sees his brothers standing there with their own tears streaming down there faces as Gerrera pats Hunters shoulder and walks away.
“I am glad you are okay.”
Wrecker and Hunter walk closer to the two of you with smiles on their faces, “Us too...”
He looks around for a moment, searching for someone, “Where is Omega?”
“Hemlock he...” Hunter couldn’t finish, you could hear the anger in his voice as he tried to remain calm.
You see the hurt and understanding in Tech’s eyes as you cup his cheeks making him look at you, “But we're gonna get her back. No matter what.”
“Of course,” he says quietly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, a few tears falling from his eyes, “I apologize for... everything. I know you are all most likely angry at my actions during the mission.”
You wipe his tears, “We all know you did what you thought was right. And no matter how much it hurt, how hard it's been to carry on these past few months thinking that you were... dead. You got us out of there. You saved us.”
“She’s right. You got us out of there.” Wrecker says quietly.
Tech sighs, “Then I suppose I am glad my actions gave the intended outcome, be it for only a short while.”
“I love you,” you whisper making him and his brothers freeze, “I love you so much. These past few months have been... hell without you. Having to mourn you, I...”
Tech watches you, the dark circles under your puffy eyes, the usual tight braids in your hair were falling out like you haven’t bothered the upkeep, and he could see you were wearing the shirt of his old pair of blacks he kept in the marauder. His heart aches as he realizes how much pain you’ve been in, “I am so sorry. I’ve been comatose for all these months, and you’ve thought that I died. I can never undo the damage I caused with that but, I do plan on staying by your side for the rest of my life...”
You lean forward and kiss him, your tears soaking his shirt. He pulls you closer, kissing you deeper like he’s trying to suck all the oxygen from your lungs. You trail your kisses all over his face, then you grab his hands and gently kiss each knuckle making him chuckle quietly, “I love you darling.”
Hunter and Wrecker leave the tent quietly giving you a moment to be alone. Your whole body is shaking as you try not to cry anymore, and you kiss him gently, whispering against his lips, “please don’t leave me again...”
“I have no intention of leaving you,” he whispers back, “Never again.”
Is it just me or everyone imagine their fav characters that they are obsessing over in real life???
Like I'll be at work and then I imagine that bitch sitting next to me, talking to me and admiring me while I FUCKING KNOW THAT I HAVENT KISSED A MALE SPECIES IN MY ENTIRE LIFE
I don't know if that's sign of a fucking mental problem or what but I swear if I'm even Slightly upset or tired of my life i WILL open tumblr and start imagining them or talking to them (aka my wall. It be sitting there like the fuck gurl im not your man)
How I think that top-secret time on Kashyyyk would have gone. Yoda would probably like the other three but Crosshair would be more likely to drive him to insanity.
Imagine Eddie writing into every D&D campaign, a character that falls in love with your character. Or npc couples that are exactly like the two of you. You ask him one day why he does this. He just answered so casually like it was common knowledge, “because I’ll love you in every universe, time, and everything in between.”
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