welcome! this is my sideblog for my other fandoms. covering: superman, johnny storm, and maybe more.
I'm Stella, 25 years old
♦️ listen. not all my fics are 18+ but this is still an 18+ blog so mdni. you've been warned. if your blog is anon/ageless, I will not interact back--i will most likely block you.
⛤☽⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆꒷꒦꒷⋆✧˙⋆⊹.☾⛤
masterlist ⇟
🧡 RYLAND GRACE (Project Hail Mary)
coming soon
💙 SUPERMAN
stay (small angst, fluff)
like someone in love (smut)
❤️🔥 JOHNNY STORM
as time goes by (fluff)
just-right johnny (fluff)
burned out (small angst, fluff)
a song for you (fluff)
summary: the way you and ryland grace got involved with the hail mary are polar opposites. he was forced on this mission against will, despite wanting to live. on the contrary, you volunteered on this mission to die. both of you get caught up in the antithesis of your initial reasoning as ryland finds someone to die for, and you find someone to live for.
tags: somehow angsty?? i meant to write fluff?? reader is lowkey suicidal lmao, reader joined the hail mary to die, rocky mentions and many tears, mentions of eva stratt
Ryland Grace seems to be under the false impression that you are everything he is not.
Being alone in a confined space for so long, you were bound to talk a lot, and it was only a matter of time the topics brushed over how and why you ended up floating in space to find but a semblance of hope to save your planet before extinction in the vast void of the universe.
"Why did you join the mission if you weren't, you know..." Grace trails off, sheepish in his inquiry, "... Sure?"
"Your eloquence astounds me, Doctor Grace," you chuckle, giving him a half hearted shrug. Not meant to be a full reply, but to convey your stance on the matter.
"I had the gene. That was the most important factor, I think. Everything else they could just hammer into my head pronto before launch. Same for the whole astronaut training, apparently." With a contemplative hum, you purse your lips, "Though I suppose it helped Stratt immensely that I picked things up super fast." Purely to show you have a speck of modesty left; "Not to toot my own horn, but to totally toot my own horn," you tack on as an afterthought, just so Grace doesn't think of you as an arrogant ass.
"All the horns are yours to toot, honestly," Grace lifts up both hands in surrender, then gesturing at you with open palms as if to say the stage is yours. "I had heard your name come up multiple times the moment I was cleared to handle confidential information." He mirrors your earlier shrug, like he doesn't want to fully commit to his perception. "Stratt sounded oddly self-assured, like you were the one ace up her sleeve that wouldn't fail her."
That draws a short bark of a laugh out of you. Eva Stratt is many things, but unprepared is not one of them.
Having blind faith in people, also. Not her style at all.
"That's an exaggeration," you push at his shoulder like you push away the ridiculous idea, "I had many back-ups like everyone else, I assure you." Stretching out your legs, you sink back into the impromptu pillow fort with a sigh, "I trust your judgement. If you say so, that is how it must've looked like to an observer. Even if so, it's probably just that she saw high odds of success with my presence or something. Nobody is indispensable to Stratt."
"Oh, I would know."
The bitter chuckle that leaves his lips drip with venom.
... You probably shouldn't ask, but what is humanity without curiosity?
"Could be a different case for you," Nodding, you carefully try breaching the subject. "She was very insistent that you join. I know she's bossy and persuasive, but I still cannot fathom how she managed to convince you. That's Stratt, alright."
It takes you a second that might have come off as you underestimating him.
"Not in a bad way!!" Before he can speak, your hands fly up in defense, "I mean, you just seemed so..." Rolling your hands before clasping them together once you scrambled for the appropriate word for long enough, "... Hesitant. Not to say you were meek or bad at your job or anything, but I was under the impression that you didn't want to be involved any more than the bare minimum needed for the science." Taking a breath through your teeth, you offer a quiet "Sorry."
"You're right on the mark," he says, tone somber, and oh, you're not sure if you can bear to look at him. You have come across him with a mournful expression on his face once or twice, seemingly expressionless but the bleak mood hanging heavily in the air as he watches the stars; and it tugs at your heartstrings in all the wrong ways. "She didn't."
"Hm?"
"She didn't convince me."
Heart dropping to your stomach at the implications, you turn your head to face him at the speed of a medieval gate opening.
"I didn't volunteer," His mouth twitches up, though it's more a grimace than anything else, "I refused — tried to escape when she tried to force me into it. The memories are still a little spotty, but I remember being hunted down."
The sheen of tears in his eyes reflects your own, your lower lip wobbling as he continues; "The grass against my cheek. Uncomfortable pressure on my lower back. A rainbow. The feeling of an intrusive needle in my neck."
They didn't give him a choice. He was hunted down like an animal and forced on a suicide mission with one order, all in the name of greater good. And yet.
And yet he works to help those back home — home, if you can even call it that with the newfound revelation. You cannot imagine being stripped of your autonomy in such a way and still have the resolve to help the very people that betrayed you.
Sure, it is not the entire population. A powerful few, if not just one, but still. You don't dare label him a saint or assume his feelings on the matter, with considerable effort.
The feeling of being betrayed, deceived, far outweighs the sorrow, your resentment manifesting itself as molten anger streaming down your cheeks.
How dare they. How dare they.
"I'm nothing like you, Yao, or Ilyukhina," Grace mumbles, the words haphazardly thrown together as he moves to get up. "Sorry I'm not who you think I am."
Your hand flies to latch on his wrist so hard you hear one of your joints pop.
"We," Swallowing thickly, you close your eyes to pull yourself together, trying to refrain from choking on your words, "We were told you agreed. Yao was against forcing you from the very beginning, as were the rest of us. Stratt said after a long discussion, you wanted to be put in the medically induced coma before launch for nerves or something—!!"
Bile raises in your throat. Your ignorance makes you feel almost complicit in what happened to him, even if you had no say in the matter.
"I'm so sorry," you barely manage to get the words out, lightly tugging at his wrist.
Grace crumples in your arms like a flimsy doll, fingers clumsily digging into your shirt in a poor attempt to hold onto you — or to hold himself together. You can't tell.
"Thank you," you barely hear the words, muffled by your own shoulder, "It's nice to know at least some cared."
Your circumstances could not have been more different. The revelation hangs in the air, present yet not in focus.
It's not like you had someone to die for, you have told Grace that much. No heroism or bravery was involved in your decision, you did simply because you could. No grand aspirations behind it.
It would be nice to be hailed as a hero if you succeed, though it's a double edged sword. You have enough grasp on history to know how quick people are to pin the blame on whoever is the easiest target, in which you and Grace are the very ones.
"I still think that you're extremely brave." Grace croaks, breaking the silence. The glassy sheen in his eyes match yours.
Craning your head to meet his gaze, you can't help but furrow your brows in disbelief. "... I just told you I wasn't thinking much of anything. Might as well have been on autopilot the entire time."
"Doesn't change a thing," Grace shrugs with a surprisingly smug smile that comes with proving himself right, pinky bumping against yours as he adjusts his position gaze at the pixellated beach more comfortably, a small oop— sounding in the room at the contact.
"I think you're extremely brave, too." Before he can pull away, you curl your pinky around his, grip loose in case he wants to pull away, "Brave, and kind."
His pinky curls around yours. The gesture feels like making a small promise, though you don't know what you're swearing to.
The space walks are the fun part of this entire ordeal, rare as they are.
Grace — Ryland, disagrees. He has always been more at home in the lab, which, you get it, him being the lead scientist, and being the only one who can manage to get something done and all.
"Are you sure about this?" Ryland grunts, hooking a foot in the net as he spins around, trying to put his suit on to accompany you, despite it being more strategically aligned to have someone on base at all times, having insisted you don't go exploring alien territory on your own.
Especially in the form of a golden ship at least three times as long as Hail Mary harbouring intelligent life.
"More than," you chuckle, floating over to zip him up, stabilising both him and yourself with practiced ease. "We're not saying anything, though. Can't risk jinxing it. But they did invite us in the form of attaching themselves on our ship, so at least we're not uninvited guests. All implications included."
"Alright, yeah, got it, no problem," Ryland rambles, releasing a shaky breath as he raises his chin as you zip him up, giving you the most unsure thumbs up combined with the soggiest look you have ever seen.
Holding back a giggle, you pull his helmet closer, though you make sure to splay a palm over his head to mess up his hair affectionately before putting it on him, finally baiting an exasperated chuckle out of him.
He still looks like an elastic band stretched too thin, threatening to snap any minute, though. Like, you're sure he's going to get cramps from how tense he is from nerves.
The solution to such a problem comes to you in the form of latching onto one another, which proves surprisingly effective.
Until Ryland gets startled upon first contact.
The scream scared off himself, you, and the creature, until the situation was somehow diffused, and hopefully written off as a misunderstanding on both sides.
The creature is extremely intelligent, and you love it immediately.
Similarities in culture is not impossible by any means even across stars, though it's still astonishing that body language and gestures convey their meaning this well, mimicking aside. You gesture for it to wait, and after a few demonstrations, it understands, and waits. Mimicking the gesture as closely as his physiology will allow, it tells you to wait as well, and you wait.
God, you're communicating. You're actually communicating with an alien creature.
You decide to take shifts to avoid losing time — or brainpower. Ryland tripped four times just trying to bring a clock over, and you walked in circles back and forth between Mary and the Blip-A for seven minutes before it dawned on you that you forgot what you were searching for.
The process of breaking the language barrier is as close to smooth sailing as possible after the arrangement, so much so that after you take off the soundproof earphones when you wake up, a robotic voice greets you.
"Hi friend!"
You take off your eye mask to see Rocky greeting you with a three-clawed wave.
Any semblance of sleep you had in your body evaporates.
"Hi Rocky!!" you coo, voice going up several pitches from excitement as you jog to meet him behind the xenonite, waving at him before turning to Ryland, "You gave him a voice?"
"Makes things a lot easier," he tilts his head, voice laced with sleep. "Welp, guess it's my turn to sleep." He places a hand on your shoulder, lingering before it slips off your bicep, "Knock yourselves out."
"What Grace mean, question?" Accompanied by two taps for emphasis.
"It's an expression, Rock. He means have fun."
There is a void all around you.
No sound, no sight, no feel. No memory of what happened.
Inhale, exhale.
You feel your lungs fill with air before you force it out. That means you can breathe. Good.
There is still no feeling in your fingertips. Nor your face, for that matter, and you worry it's blunt force trauma. Chances of you being treated in some void pool meant for sensory deprivation is quite low. You try shifting your weight somewhere to test where you are. On the floor, probably, until you feel your entire weight pull you down, and suddenly you're like a marionette on a string.
Not the floor, then.
The tension tells you you're strapped in, and—
Blue eyes blown wide with terror flash in your mind. A hand reached out towards you, not your face, but in front of it before your memories cut off.
You yank the safety belt off with pure muscle memory, your entire body protesting as it tries to stand upright, your arm shooting out to find support wherever the panels are.
Your senses come back to you slowly, like static sounding more and more coherent until you stumble upon a channel when searching for one in the radio.
The once muted sound of beeps are now deafening alarms blaring in your ears. The once blurred lights are now blinding as they flash red. The smell of something burning makes you gag.
An inhuman wail makes its way to your ears, and the sight that greets you is of Rocky in the corridor, trying to pull a limp Ryland towards the Lab.
Rocky is out of his space, wisps of black smoke rising out of him. So I no die in Grace and friend atmosphere, you recall. Ryland is unconscious, and probably in worse shape than you are.
You lunge forward before your brain can register what you're seeing.
"Your results are everything I could hope for," Says Stratt, and though her voice remains stoic as ever, you can tell she's impressed as she looks over the report in her tablet, your chest swelling with pride. "To call your body durable would be an understatement. Your performance has not fallen under the optimal metrics in any of the environments we tested you for; not to mention your short recovery time. The textbook definition of sturdy, really."
Your hand hooks into the back of Ryland's collar as you throw your body forward to drag him faster without falling over, barely managing to avoid slamming into Rocky, putting one foot in front of the other with unprecedented determination.
The moment Armando is in sight, you grab the first thing you can reach, which happens to be the insulated blanket Ryland has left lying around, and you flick it in Rocky's direction.
Before you can rasp out the command; ever so smart, Rocky steps onto the blanket, and you waste no time dragging him to his enclosure with all the strength you can muster, even with the world swaying beneath your feet, vision growing dim.
The small wail that comes from the medical bed falls on deaf ears.
"I will make it," you hiss, more for yourself than for Rocky, eyes trained on the clear xenonite, "I've got you, buddy."
Only one out of you three set out on this mission to die. You're not about to let either of them be the ones to die, not when Ryland wants to live. Not when Rocky has a mate, a home to return to.
Your hand slams on something as you lose your footing, though you make sure to curl your arm up, just to save Rocky a few steps.
"Please, God, anyone—" you croak, not having the strength to even lift your head to see if Rocky made it, "Please let them make it. Let them live. Kill me instead. I'll do anything. I'll die, I'll live— anything."
Your world descends into darkness like your plug has been pulled.
"Eye movement detected. Good morning, Doctor Grace."
There is an eery stillness around him.
Blinking to shake off any uncertainties he has, Ryland sluggishly gets up, gaze dropping to a faint trail of black, peppered with red spots, leading out of the lab.
Dread weighs on his shoulders heavier than a boulder as he moves slowly, trying to brace himself for whatever sight that will greet him with each deliberate step.
He sees you first.
Laying face first on the floor, your face is shielded by your arm curling around your head. If he didn't know any better, he would have assumed you had taken a particularly nasty fall but was too embarrassed to get up.
Swallowing thickly, he brings a shaky hand to your neck, resting his fingertips on your pulse—
There is a faint rhythm beating against the pads of his fingers.
He releases a breath he didn't know he was holding, curling in on himself and squeezing his eyes shut, letting his tears fall.
Your other hand reaches out to the xenonite, towards Rocky, and a sob tears itself from his throat when there is a slight move, quiet wheeze of a sound, followed by a thrum.
"Thanks for watching her sleep, pal. I'll take it from here." Hesitantly pulling away from you, he braces a hand against the xenonite, his voice cracking, "I'll watch you sleep, too. But, uh... you gotta wake up, okay? You both do."
Can you imagine being stuck in space completely alone with only the corpses of your friends for company, and the first living thing you meet after 46 years of that misery is a fucking weird alien creature who just rolls up with crazy advanced tech and goes "hi let's work together" and makes it possible for you to save your world through the power of friendship and molecular biology. AND THEN you find out that in this creature's language, its name means "mercy". Happened to my good friend Rocky btw
em we need to know since your the closest to canon is ryland an ass or boobie man
You know you right let's ANSWER THIS LIKE MEN.
NSFW BELOW, MDNI, 18+.
THIS MAN IS AN ASS MAN. And you'd have to pry that answer out of Ryland, if we're being honest. Doesn't matter the size, small, big, medium!!! He loves 'Em.
Ryland begins watching you walk. His brain, he wants to convince himself, is gone straight to science. Blue eyes are watching the way your muscles move while simultaneously he's imagining how you'd look bent over his desk, his hands playing along the curve of your ass. He's mentally calculating your center of gravity while also thinking about how it would feel to have your thighs wrapped around his waist, his hands on your ass. His analytical mind and primal despires are colliding in a weird shape of self-torture.
Ryland likes to tuck his hands into the back pockets of your jeans during little makeout sessions. The contracts between your plushy flesh underneath the denim drives him crazy. His lips are against yours and he's just murmuring, "I'm studying the wear patterns and fabric degradation over time... Very... very important." As he grabs a handful and pulls your body harder against his.
Literally gets to the point where he'll tuck his hand into your pocket while walking down the street together. Keeps you close, and another form of self-torture he's sort of into because, due to social boundries, he can't do anything about the thoughts running in his mind until he gets you alone.
Starts really obsessing in quiet and lonely moments about it. How your hips felt under his fingers, how you let him grasp at you, how your breathy moan sounded to him. Ryland starts getting distracted at the most inconvenient times because aesthetic attraction like this never really appealed to his brain until he met you.
Ryland likes doggystyle for this reason. I think that's enough said. Especially once you gain enough confidence in bed with him to start griding back against him instead of relying on the jagged thrusts he gives you. He makes a joke during it about the human pelvis being an engineering marvel but you're unable to do anything about it as he angles his own hips to thrust deeper, really letting your ass conform against him in a way that accentuates how the flesh ripples with his movements.
Will compromise and be the big spoon just to feel your ass pressing against him ( otherwise he likes to be little spoon lol. ) This brings with it the ultimate form of sex for him. Something that just makes Ryland's brain short-circuit everytime. The heat of your ass against the scape of his lower stomach as he buries his cock into you, is almost enough to get him to come undone. He holds off though, for the intimacy and closeness it brings.
Summary: Three miles from town and a world away from the life she knew, she finds herself relying on a reclusive stranger whose measured distance and iron self-control may not be enough to resist the pull he feels toward her.
Word Count: 9.2k.
note: My first time writing a/b/o, let's see where this goes...
The bus stopped with a hiss of brakes and a cloud of diesel that made her nose wrinkle. Through the grimy half half-open window, she could see nothing but forest on both sides of the cracked asphalt road.
"End of the line, miss," the driver called back, his voice carried a mix of sympathy and impatience that came from dealing with passengers who'd clearly made questionable life choices. "Town's about three miles up that way." He jerked his thumb toward what looked like a dirt path cutting through the trees.
She threw her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed the handle of her rolling suitcase. "Thank you," she said, giving him a tight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
The doors shut behind her with a wheeze, and she watched the bus disappear around a bend, leaving her alone with the sound of wind through pine needles and her own slightly elevated heartbeat. The scent blockers were doing their job, but they couldn't do anything about the anxiety crawling under her skin. Her body still wanted to broadcast her distress.
Pulling out her phone, she squinted at the screen. One bar of signal, which was better than she'd expected this far from civilization. The GPS showed a thin blue line winding through an expanse of green, with a tiny cluster of buildings marked ahead about three miles away. She'd known it would be remote when she'd applied for the resettlement program, but seeing it laid out in pixels somehow made it more real.
Rural community seeks new residents to revitalize local economy. Housing is provided for qualified applicants willing to commit to one-year residency trial.
The ad had appeared in her search results like a miracle after two weeks of looking over her shoulder every time she left her apartment, checking locks twice before bed, jumping at every unexpected knock on the door, or at every unfamiliar scent in the hallway. David had made perfectly clear that moving across town wasn't far enough. Her rejection wasn't final to him, it seemed. The restraining order was just a piece of paper, a minor inconvenience he'd already violated twice.
This, though, this was distance. Six hundred miles from the city, accessible only by a state highway that crumbled into gravel for the last twenty miles. The old railroad spur that once had been the town's lifeline had been abandoned decades ago, leaving it too remote for casual visitors and too inconvenient for anyone not serious about staying.
Perfect for an omega who needed to disappear.
She'd sent in her application the same night she'd found the listing, attaching her tutoring credentials and a brief explanation of her work-from-home ESL teaching business. The response had come within a week: a congratulatory email from someone at the Town Hall, along with an address for a house on Willow Street, noting her keys would be waiting at the local diner.
Now, standing on the side of a road that barely qualified as such, breathing air so clean it almost hurt, she wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake.
The rolling suitcase bumped and protested against the uneven ground as she started walking, following the dirt path that the GPS insisted would eventually lead to civilization. Pine trees towered on both sides, and their branches formed a canopy so thick that the afternoon sun came through in scattered patches.
It was quiet in a way that her city-trained ears found both beautiful and terrifying. No traffic, no sirens, no constant noise of human activity that had always annoyed her but now seemed like a safety net she'd taken for granted. Just the whisper of wind through the trees, the distant call of some bird she couldn't identify, and the crunch of her footsteps on the road that seemed to echo far too loudly.
Every shadow between the trees made her pulse quicken. Every rustle in the underbrush had her gripping the handle of her suitcase tighter. She should have asked more questions about transportation. Should have planned better. The bus driver's casual "three miles" had sounded manageable in theory, but walking alone down an isolated path felt like every safety lecture she'd ever received coming back to haunt her.
After what felt like hours but was probably only thirty minutes, she rounded a bend and nearly sobbed with relief. Ahead, placed into a small clearing beside the road, was a modest wooden building marked by a weather-faded government sign: Sheriff's Substation. There was a patrol car in the gravel lot, next to a well-worn pickup truck that looked like it had seen better decades.
Her steps quickened, and the wheels of her suitcase practically sang against the packed earth as she hurried toward the building. Whatever this was -a checkpoint, an outpost- it had to be safer than walking alone down an empty road.
The screen door protested with a rusted squeal as she pushed it open, stepping into the cool interior.
The conversation inside stopped abruptly.
Behind a simple wooden counter stood a woman in a sheriff's deputy uniform; her beta scent was clean, almost paper-dry. Across from her, leaning against the counter with his back to the door, was a man in work clothes: flannel shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows, worn jeans that had seen honest labor, and boots that looked like they'd walked through half the county. An alpha. His presence filled the cramped space in a way that was somehow unmistakable, but controlled, leashed.
Both had gone completely still when the door opened, turning toward her in perfect unison like she'd triggered some kind of alarm. The deputy's expression quickly shifted into something professionally welcoming, but the alpha looked like he'd been physically struck. His spine went rigid, and she caught the subtle flare of his nostrils as he breathed in involuntarily.
He was tall, with dark hair that fell over his shoulders and blue eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. When his gaze met hers, she caught a flash of something -surprise, wariness, hunger that was quickly crushed- before his expression went blank.
He cursed under his breath and angled himself away from her, as if he could block her scent from reaching him, but the damage was already done. He’d already breathed her in.
She was definitely on blockers -good ones- but something had spiked her adrenaline and cracked the chemical seal. Tiny, treacherous threads of her real scent were bleeding through the synthetic mask, threading the air like a current only certain noses could catch.
“Can I help you, miss?” the deputy asked, stepping forward with a reassuring smile. The name tag on her uniform read 'Ross.'
"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, suddenly very aware of how she must look, travel-rumpled and probably radiating anxiety. "I just got off the bus up the road, and I wasn't sure how to get to town from here. The driver said it was three miles, but I didn't realize when I bought the ticket that the bus doesn't actually go all the way to town."
The alpha straightened from the counter, and his scent of oak and coffee fractured into something harsher -fresh-split bark and a metallic thread like iron- but didn’t speak.
"You're walking to town?" Deputy Ross asked, raising her eyebrows. "Alone?"
The concern in her voice made it clear this wasn't a common occurrence there. And let's face it, it wasn’t common almost anywhere. That was the kind of scenario that made headlines for all the wrong reasons.
She shrugged, trying to project more confidence than she felt. "What other option do I have?" She gestured vaguely toward the door. "But I have to admit, I'm relieved to have found this place so I could ask for directions.”
The deputy exchanged a quick glance with the alpha, something passing between them that she couldn't quite read. The man's jaw had clenched slightly, and his hands, she noticed, had closed into loose fists at his sides.
"The bus route changed about two years ago," Ross explained apologetically. "The county cut the funding, so now it just stops at the main road intersection. Most folks who come out this way have their own transportation or someone picking them up."
"I see." She shifted her weight, suddenly feeling every inch the clueless city outsider she was. "Well, is the walk to town... safe? I mean, it's just woods, right?"
The alpha's jaw clenched visibly, and she caught the way his hands flexed again at his sides, like he was restraining himself from reaching for something. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, looking at her as if she had lost some marbles. "It's not the forest you need to worry about."
Ross shot him a look that seemed to say 'charming as always,' but he was already dragging a hand through his dark hair in what looked like a nervous habit, or maybe an attempt to disperse whatever pheromones he'd just released.
Because something had definitely changed in the room. Not just scent, but atmosphere. The air felt heavier, charged, and her pulse stuttered in response before her conscious mind could catch up. Her body recognized what was happening: an alpha bristling, protective, dangerous, but also holding himself in check.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, and some of that metallic edge in his scent eased back, though it didn't disappear entirely. "Look," he said, fixing his gaze on hers for just a moment before it slid to somewhere over her shoulder. "I was heading into town anyway. I can give you a ride."
The offer hung for a moment. She could see the tension in his posture, the way he seemed to be fighting some internal battle even as the words left his mouth. This wasn't someone who made casual offers to strangers; everything about his body language screamed solitary, guarded, reluctant. But something about her situation had pushed him past whatever boundaries he had for himself.
"That's very kind of you," she said carefully, studying his face. There was something almost grudging about his helpfulness, like the offer had been dragged out of him by instinct rather than logic. "Are you sure it's not too much trouble-?"
"No trouble," he replied, a beat too quickly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Like I said, I was going that way anyway." His scent changed again, the harsh metallic edge fading as coffee and oak reasserted themselves, like he was deliberately putting himself back under control.
Ross watched the exchange with barely concealed fascination, her gaze ping-ponging between them like she was witnessing something they hadn't quite figured out yet. "Bucky's good people," she offered, apparently sensing the other woman's hesitation. "You'll be safe with him."
Bucky -so that was his name- shot Ross a look that might have been grateful or annoyed, it was hard to tell.
"I'm Deputy María Ross, by the way," the woman said, extending her hand with a professional smile. "And you are?"
She thanked her, shaking the offered hand and introducing herself by name.
"Nice to meet you," Ross said with a smile, then pointed her thumb toward the alpha. "And this charming specimen is James Barnes, but everyone calls him Bucky."
"Not everyone," Bucky muttered under his breath, though there was no real irritation in it.
Ross rolled her eyes. "Fine, everyone who actually talks to you calls you Bucky." She turned back to her with a grin. "He's particular about these things."
She caught the flush that crept up Bucky's neck at the gentle ribbing, the way his jaw flexed like he wasn't entirely sure how to handle being the center of attention. Something about that embarrassment made him seem less intimidating, despite the way his presence still dominated the small space.
"Truck's outside," he announced abruptly, gesturing toward the door like he was ready to escape this particular social interaction. "Just need to finish up here first." He glanced meaningfully at Ross, who immediately started patting down her uniform pockets.
"Right," she said, counting some bills and giving them to him. "Thanks for the delivery."
Bucky pocketed the cash and moved toward the door, pausing and resting one hand on the frame as he held it open for her. The gesture caught her off guard. In her experience, alphas typically expected others to walk behind them, not precede them. She glanced up doubtfully at him, but his expression was neutral; there was only patience in those blue eyes.
She nodded her thanks and stepped outside, blinking in the late afternoon sunlight.
Up close, his truck was exactly what it looked like: a working vehicle that had seen years of hard use, with scratched paint and a bed that showed evidence of hauling everything from lumber to tools. It was clean, though, and well-maintained despite its age.
He moved around to the passenger side and reached for the handle, and something almost sheepish crossed his features.
"Fair warning," he said, voice carrying a hint of embarrassment that made her omega instincts perk with interest. "She's temperamental. Handle needs persuading."
She watched, transfixed, as his large hand wrapped around the chrome, giving it an upward twist. The muscles in his forearm flexed beneath the rolled sleeves of his flannel, and the door opened with a reluctant groan.
"Thank you," she said, accepting his help getting her suitcase positioned and climbing up into the cab.
The interior had the same vibe as the exterior, with a worn bench seat, a radio that looked original to the truck, and a faint smell of sawdust and something distinctly him.
The truck dipped as Bucky sat behind the wheel, and suddenly the space between them contracted to nothing. The bench seat that had seemed adequate now felt intimate, dangerous. His presence filled every corner of the cab, wrapping around her like smoke.
This was alpha, undeniably so, but not the brutal dominance she'd learned to fear. This was something far more treacherous, restrained power that ran beneath his skin, controlled but never truly tamed.
Her pulse hammered against her throat, and she pressed her fingers there instinctively, terrified that somehow the frantic rhythm might betray the effect he was having on her. The last thing she needed was for him to scent her body's traitorous response to his proximity.
The engine turned over with a rumble that spoke of good maintenance despite the truck's age. Bucky adjusted the rearview mirror, checked his blind spots, and pulled out of the gravel lot with the confidence of someone who'd been driving these mountain roads for years.
----
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the engine going and the crunch of gravel under the tires as they made their way back to the main path.
She found herself stealing glances at his profile when she thought he wasn't looking, the strong line of his jaw, the way his hands rested easily on the steering wheel, the slight tension in his shoulders that never seemed to fully relax. Her body reacted before her mind could: stuttering pulse, heat pooling low and insistently in her belly, the faint prickling along her back that screamed omega aware of alpha.
Bucky was acutely aware of every one of those glances, every subtle shift, every almost imperceptible inhale of hers, though he kept his eyes firmly on the road. The confined space of the truck cab was playing havoc with his concentration. Her scent was there, faint but present despite what she was using, and it was... distracting. Sweet, warm, like caramelized almonds with an undertone that was traveling directly to his groin, an instinct he'd spent years learning to ignore.
He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, jaw clenched as he inhaled carefully, trying to taste less, to control himself more.
This was exactly why he avoided situations like this. Why he lived alone, worked alone, and kept his distance from anyone who might trigger the part of him he'd spent decades learning to suppress. Because his body didn't give a damn about appropriate boundaries or the fact that she was a complete stranger who probably wanted nothing more than a ride to town. And he hated not being in control.
----
She wasn't sure if she should fill the quiet or let it be. In the city, silence in a car with a stranger -especially an alpha- would have felt like a threat waiting to materialize. But this felt different somehow. Not precisely uncomfortable, but... charged. Like the air before a thunderstorm.
The truck hit a small pothole, and she had to grip the door handle, sliding a fraction closer on the bench seat. The motion brought her a few inches closer to him, and she caught another wave of his scent that made her omega hindbrain purr with dangerous satisfaction.
Fuck.
Bucky's knuckles went white on the steering wheel as she shifted closer, and he had to force himself not to flinch visibly. Every instinct he possessed was howling at him to pull over, to crowd her against the door, and-
He cleared his throat roughly, more to give himself something to do than because he needed to. "Road gets better once we hit the main stretch," he muttered in a gruff tone.
She let out a soft chuckle, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. "Now I understand why the bus doesn't want to come down this road."
The sound of her laugh did something to the tight knot in his stomach, loosening it just enough that he could breathe a little easier. He glanced at her briefly, catching the hint of a smile on her lips before looking back at the road.
She saw the opening his comment had created as a chance to start a real conversation, but found herself at a loss for what to say. What did you talk about with a stranger who'd just rescued you from a three-mile walk through the woods? Especially when that stranger was an alpha whose presence was doing interesting things to her usually composed nature.
After a moment of internal debate, she reached into her backpack and pulled out a food container. "I made these for the trip," she said, opening it to reveal several neatly cut brownies. "Would you like one? Take it as a thank you."
The smell hit the cab immediately, rich chocolate and nuts, with a hint of something that might have been espresso. Homemade, definitely, and a thousand times better than anything that had ever crossed the threshold of his truck.
Bucky's hands pressed on the wheel again, but for a different reason this time. The gesture was so... domestic. Thoughtful. The kind of thing that spoke of someone who planned, who nurtured. It made his chest hurt with something close to homesickness, to long for things he'd convinced himself he didn't deserve to want. He was too tired, too broken for this.
"Not necessary," he said, and it came out harsher than he'd intended.
Her smile faltered slightly, and she closed the container with careful movements, making herself smaller against the passenger door like she was trying to disappear into the upholstery.
He caught her reaction from the corner of his eye, the way she slightly pulled back toward the far edge of the bench seat, and something twisted uncomfortably in his stomach. It wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t get his shit together long enough to accept a simple act of kindness without making it weird.
"…but I want one," he added quickly, softer this time. "They smell good, thank you."
Her gaze widened and her smile returned, warmer this time, as she reopened the container and carefully selected one of the brownies. "I'm sorry, I don't have any napkins," she said, holding it out to him in her palm.
Bucky nearly huffed with amusement at the apology. As if he'd be bothered by the lack of a fucking napkin when he spent his days covered in sawdust and tree sap. The concern was so unnecessarily considerate that it was almost painful.
He took his eyes off the road for just a moment, reaching over to take the brownie from her outstretched hand. His fingers brushed briefly against her palm -warm, soft, inviting- before he pulled back and immediately took a bite.
The flavor was a revelation. Rich, dark chocolate with just enough sweetness, and there was definitely espresso in there. His eyes closed briefly, a small involuntary tilt of his head as he savored it, and he couldn't quite suppress the low sound of appreciation that rumbled in his chest. A faint trace of her scent reached him in the process, wrapped in sugar, testing his restraint like a whispered challenge.
"Fuck," he muttered around the bite, then caught himself. "Sorry. This is... really good." He glanced at her, something almost shy flashing across his features. "Give me a couple more of these and we'll call the ride even."
The praise hit her like a shot of dopamine. Something warm and bright bloomed in her chest. Not just satisfaction, but that deeper, more dangerous pride that made her want to preen, to bask in having pleased him, having provided something he genuinely enjoyed.
The realization made her stomach twist with irritation at herself. She knew what this was: her omega side rising to the surface, desperate to please and provide and earn approval through care and feeding.
The internal conflict must have shown on her face because Bucky shot her another glance, this one longer and more concerned. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she said quickly, forcing a smile and pushing the container toward him. "Help yourself. I made way too many anyway."
----
The road improved as he'd promised, the packed dirt giving way to cracked but serviceable asphalt as they approached the outskirts of town. She could see buildings now through the trees, a water tower, the peaked roofs of houses, a church steeple rising above the canopy.
"So where are you staying?" he asked, taking another brownie from the container now balanced on the seat between them.
"One of the houses on Willow Street," she replied, pulling up the address on her phone. "Part of the resettlement program."
Bucky glanced sideways, but he didn't say anything. Just nodded and slightly worked his jaw as if he was chewing on words he wasn't sure he should say.
The ad hadn't exactly lied about the housing, but it had definitely been generous with the truth about the condition of those houses. Some of them were decent enough, livable with a little work. Others... well, others needed more than a little work.
He pulled up to a modest diner where her keys were waiting, its peeling paint and sun-faded sign somehow made welcoming by the rich scent of coffee and fresh bread drifting through the screen door. Inside, the place was empty except for a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and flour-dusted hands who handed over the keys with a smile that seemed genuinely warm.
Back in the truck, he navigated through the quiet streets until they reached her new neighborhood.
When they stopped in front of her new house, she stepped out first, taking in the small, weathered building. It wasn’t terrible. Not a paradise, certainly, but with a little care it could be home. She turned back toward the truck, offering him a tentative smile. "Well, this is it."
But he was staring at the house with narrowed eyes, his expression darkening by the second. "They seriously expect an omega to settle in here?"
In the city, she'd been able to pass as beta without question, blending into crowds, her suppressors working flawlessly to mask the telltale markers. How the hell had he-?
Bucky caught the change in her scent immediately -charged with panic now- and cursed under his breath.
"How..." she started, then had to clear her throat. "How did you know?"
He was quiet for a long moment, studying her face. "Whatever you were using back in the city probably worked fine," he said carefully, like he was picking his way through a minefield. "But out here? No crowds, no constant background noise of a hundred different scents mixing together. Everything stands out more clearly."
He paused, watching her shoulders tense. “And… well, being nervous about arriving somewhere new… that doesn’t exactly help keep things hidden.”
Heat flooded her cheeks, embarrassment, and something dangerously close to panic. Her scent blockers had been military grade and expensive as hell. If they were failing her now...
She was going to need to find a local physician. Fast.
Bucky caught the way her fingers flexed on the strap of her backpack and felt the inexplicable urge to soothe her before he could stop himself.
“Hey,” he said quietly, “You’ll be fine. Just- try not to get too worked up. The quiet out here, the clean air… that's part of why everything's more obvious. But the other part..." He hesitated, brushing his thumb over a callus on his palm like he was trying to wear it down. "It's me. I've been trained to pick up on things most people miss. Even if you were drowning in blockers, I'd probably still know."
“Trained for what?”
He glanced at her, then at the shabby house, then down at his hands, where his thumb kept working that same spot on his palm.
“Retired military,” he said at last, almost grudgingly, as though the words tasted bitter.
She took a small step closer, something shifting in her expression. Recognition, maybe respect. "Thank you for your service."
Bucky’s jaw clenched. He shook his head once, sharp and dismissive. “Don’t. I don’t deserve that.”
Then he looked away, focusing on a suddenly interesting weed on the sidewalk.
"I didn't mean to-" she started, her tone gentle. "Whatever you think you did wrong-"
"I'm not being modest." His voice was flat, final. The kind of tone that usually ended conversations.
“Sorry. Wasn’t my intention to upset you.”
That word -sorry- made his stomach sink. There she was, apologizing to him when he was the one being a complete asshole. Again. His social skills had never been great, but years of isolation had turned him into something that barely resembled functional.
He shifted his weight, his thumb finding its familiar groove in his palm, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to find words that he couldn’t reach.
"It's-" Nothing. He had nothing that wouldn't make this worse.
The silence stretched between them for a moment. He swallowed, glanced at her from under his lashes, and forced his attention back to the house. His hand came to rub the back of his neck.
"Did anyone check this place before you got here?" he asked, assessing the building with what looked like a professional eye. "Someone from the town or the program?"
“I don’t think so.” She followed his gaze to the house.
“Probably not,” he muttered. “The program’s bare-bones. They get the paperwork done, throw in some paint and make sure a key’s waiting, but…” His eyes traveled methodically up the roofline, cataloging loose shingles and sagging gutters, along windows that might not close properly, over steps that looked like they'd collapse under any real weight.
"But what?"
"Things like electricity, plumbing, heat… that's usually left for the new resident to figure out."
He cleared his throat. "Look, I-" He stopped, started again. "You mind if I- I mean, if you want, I could take a quick look around. Just to make sure the basics are working." The words came out awkwardly, like he wasn't sure he had the right to offer. "Won't take more than five minutes. But if you'd rather handle it yourself-"
She stared at the house while he talked, the words “electricity, plumbing, heat” unspooling a new list of worries in her head. From the outside, it looked manageable. Shabby but solid. But his tone suggested he'd seen enough of these program houses to know better than to trust appearances.
And then there was his offer.
Rationally, it made perfect sense. He obviously knew what he was looking at, and he'd already gone out of his way to help her. But the part of her that had survived years in the city by being cautious, by never letting her guard down completely, balked at the idea of inviting a strange alpha into what was supposed to be her sanctuary.
Her grasp on the strap tightened, fighting down the instinctive rush of caution. He hadn’t crowded her once during the drive, hadn’t used his size or his scent to push at her boundaries.
He caught her reaction instantly and exhaled slowly through his nose. He hadn’t even thought about what it meant to offer.
In his head, it was just a practical thing: to make sure the wiring wasn’t a death trap, or the pipes wouldn’t burst, or if the locks actually latched. But to her, to an omega alone in a strange town, with an alpha she'd known for all of two hours…
His gaze flashed to hers, then away again. He eased his posture back a fraction, opening his hands at his sides in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. “I’m not-” he started, then stopped, searching for words. “I don’t mean anything by it. Just… making sure you’re set up since I’m already here. That’s all.”
She finally turned to look at him. The strap of her bag was still trapped in her fist, but she read his awkwardness as honesty, and that gave her enough footing to nod. “If you don’t mind,” she said at last, voice calmer than she felt. “I’d appreciate it.”
----
Inside, the house smelled of fresh paint layered over mustiness and years of abandonment. She dropped the bag just inside the door and stepped aside, giving him room to enter.
Bucky moved, assessing outlets, baseboards, locks, and the slight dip in the kitchen floor, where water might have warped it.
She watched him, trying to look like she wasn’t. Some part of her -the practical, city-bred part- was relieved. Someone competent was checking the things she hadn’t thought of examining. Another part, -the more treacherous one- was warmed by seeing him doing it.
Some primitive part of her brain recognized the gesture for what it was: protection. Care. Strong hands turning their attention toward her space, her safety, her well-being.
She shook her head, as though she could scatter the thought. But her eyes went back to him. To his broad shoulders under that flannel, the dark hair brushing his jaw, the way his thick thighs flexed when he crouched to check the heater with his big palm splayed across the vent…
When he straightened, brushing dust from his fingers, she forced her gaze up to his eyes. “Everything… okay?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t betray the direction her thoughts had taken.
He gave a small nod, eyes still looking around the room. “Looks solid. Needs some airing out, but nothing dangerous I can see.”
He moved toward the kitchen sink and twisted the handle. The pipes groaned before a thin stream of brown water spluttered out, then cleared to something closer to drinkable. He let it run a moment, watching the color change. “Let the water flow a couple of minutes every morning,” he said, almost absently, wiping his damp hand on his jeans. “Old pipes. Clears the sediment before you use it for drinking or cooking."
She nodded, maybe too quickly. There was something about the casual authority in his tone, the way he didn’t even look at her while saying it, that felt oddly intimate. Like a glimpse into some alternate reality where someone simply took care of things without needing to be asked.
Next, he tested the window latches, checking that they actually secured. "Keep these locked at night," he said, demonstrating the mechanism with those long fingers. "Country air's nice during the day, but you've got wildlife out here. Better safe than sorry."
Her pulse stuttered at the word safe. She hated how her body responded to the subtle care threading through his warning, how watching his hands work the latch sent that familiar heat to pool low in her stomach. Provider, whispered that traitorous voice in her brain. Protector. Mine.
When he turned back to face her, his expression had gone carefully neutral, almost wary. "Sorry," he muttered. "Old habits."
When he turned back to her, his expression was neutral, almost wary. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Force of habit.”
She shook her head quickly. “No, thank you. I- I wouldn’t have thought of half of that.”
He gave a small shrug, averting his eyes, like he didn’t quite know what to do with gratitude. “Yeah. Well. Someone should.”
She lingered near the counter while he checked the last window, fidgeting before she finally found the nerve to talk as he started walking toward the living room. “If it’s not too much trouble,” she began carefully, “since you’re here… I was wondering if I could ask you a few things about the town. Things only someone who lives here would know.”
“Sure,” he said after a pause. The word came out low, neutral, but his jaw worked slightly.
Inside, he felt the familiar tug-of-war. Half of him was already calculating the fastest route to his truck, back to the safety of isolation and routine. But the other half -the part that had been buried under years of self-imposed exile- was reluctant to walk away from the soft warmth of her scent in the air, from being looked at like he had something useful to offer instead of something to fear.
He rubbed a palm against the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at her. “Ask away,” he muttered, softer this time.
She caught the flash of something conflicted in his expression. Not impatience exactly, but wariness. Like he wanted to stay and run in equal measure. That in-between quality made her braver somehow, like he wasn’t untouchable as he seemed after all.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling a little, trying to keep her voice light even as her pulse sped. “It’s just… everyday things like where to get groceries, or if there’s a good coffee place. Stuff the brochures don’t tell you.”
Bucky exhaled slowly and shifted his weight. “There’s a market on Cedar, usually cheaper than the one on Main. But-” He hesitated, darting his eyes to hers, then away. “I use Granger’s on Main. Costs more, but they deliver once a week.”
Her brows lifted. “They deliver all the way up here?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed a thumb along the windowsill. “Good people. All betas, so you don’t have to worry about… complications. Groceries, cleaning supplies, pharmacy stuff. If you're not feeling up to going into town, they'll bring it right to your door.”
That relieved her in a way she hadn’t known she needed. The thought of navigating a small town's social dynamics as an unmated omega had been one of those background anxieties she'd been trying not to think about.
She nodded, saving the information for later. “That’s… actually really good to know. Thank you.”
Bucky shrugged, still avoiding her eyes. “Fresh produce's better if you go yourself, though. And don't wait till late Saturday, the shelves'll be picked clean by then.”
“Noted,” she murmured, smiling despite herself.
He stood in the middle of her living room, scanning the walls and the old radiator one last time as though making sure everything he’d just checked was still holding. She felt lured to the oak scent he exuded as he tilted his head while turning the handle, the faint smell of coffee swimming over the dust of the almost empty house.
She could tell he was already mentally half-turned toward the door. That needy part of her -sly, almost hungry- wanted him to stay longer. To keep speaking, to keep standing there looking too large for the space. But her rational side knew better. She still had a house to make livable and belongings to unpack. And, he clearly had his own life to return to.
She cleared her throat softly. “I should let you go. You’ve probably got things waiting, and I’ve taken up enough of your time already.” She offered a small smile. “Thank you for doing this. You’re a good neighbor.”
He blinked, caught off guard. Color rose at the tops of his cheekbones, something raw and unprepared crossing his features. Compliments didn’t seem to land easily on him; his eyes dropped to the floorboards, and his shoulders gave a tight, involuntary twitch, as if he’d been touched somewhere tender.
“I-” He stopped, gave the smallest shrug. “Yeah. Sure.”
She hesitated a beat, then remembered the container in her backpack. “Oh! before you go.” She pulled it out and held it toward him. “Take them, please.”
Surprise flashed on his features again. “You don’t have to-” His hand hovered over the container like he was afraid it might burn him.
“It’s the least I can do,” she said, pushing it gently toward him. “After driving me here and checking everything out.”
For a heartbeat, he seemed caught between instinct and politeness, darting his eyes between her face and the tupperware. Then he took it, carefully and almost awkwardly, brushing her fingers for an instant before retreating. “Thanks,” he muttered, low enough that it barely reached her.
She smiled and stepped back, giving him room to breathe, letting him have his exit even as something selfish and desperate inside her wanted to find another reason to keep him there.
He paused by the door, then leaned slightly forward, almost murmuring. “Weather report said it’ll get windy tonight… when you go to bed, make sure the windows stay locked.”
She nodded, caught off guard by the sudden, practical concern. “Got it. Thanks.” Her chest clenched, and before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out. “You really are a good…alpha.”
His head snapped up, eyes going wide for a fraction of a second before he blinked, swallowed, and forced a careful composure back onto his face. But she caught the brief flush that crept up his neck, the way his jaw flexed as he processed what she'd just said.
She hesitated, feeling her cheeks warm. “I mean… a good neighbor. I know I already said it, but really.”
He managed a stiff nod. His posture relaxed fractionally, though the faint flush remaining on his skin betrayed that her words had affected him more than either of them would care to admit.
----
She sat back on the edge of the old couch as the door closed behind him, pressing her palms to her knees to calm herself. Good alpha. She’d actually gone and said it.
Heat crept up her throat at the thought. In the city, she could pass for beta. In the city, she controlled the script. Here, somehow, he’d scented her, and worse, she’d shown her hand.
The room held traces of his scent now, oak and coffee and something warm that was faint but unmistakably him. It shouldn't have been comforting, but it was. She could still picture the way he’d held the tupper in his hand and the small, unchecked pulse of pleasure he had exuded when accepting it.
She covered her face with both hands, caught between mortification and something dangerously close to excitement. She’d just wanted to thank him for being a good neighbor, for looking out for her. What came out instead had been something she hadn’t even let herself think yet.
And now she was alone in a half-empty house, with the wind starting to rise against the windows, and the echo of coffee, oak, and something dangerous swirling like a promise in the air.
----
Bucky climbed into the truck, putting the container in the passenger seat. The cab still held her scent, warm, sweet, nervous, now threaded with the little pulse of pride he’d felt when she’d handed him the brownies. And under it all, still ringing in his ears, the words she’d actually said, not the polite correction: good alpha.
He shut the door a little too hard, then sat there for a second, breathing like he’d just run uphill. Good alpha. No one had called him that in years.
He dragged a hand down his face, then pinched the bridge of his nose hard enough to hurt. He wasn’t even sure why it affected him so hard, maybe because it had just slipped out of her lips, unfiltered and honest. That honesty did things to him he didn't want to examine too closely.
The brownies sat there like an accusation. He shouldn’t have taken them. He shouldn’t have gone inside. He shouldn’t have liked the shine of trust in her eyes. And yet he did.
But the words good alpha didn’t just sit there; they hit a switch, dragging him back to places he'd spent years trying to forget.
He still could feel the chemical burn of the injection rushing through his bloodstream, a fever that stripped him of judgment and left only the instinct. A field tent stinking of blood and sweat, shadows of bodies moving, his hands gripping rough canvas, the taste of metal in his mouth. They’d called it a reward, a boost, a push for their finest specimen. The pinnacle of what an alpha soldier could be.
He didn’t remember everything that had happened afterward, not in order, not clearly. The memories came in fragments, violent and disjointed. But he had a pretty good idea what he'd done while riding that chemical high they'd pumped through his veins.
And sitting there now, he couldn’t stop the bitter thought: Good alpha. For what? For who?
His fingers dug into the muscle of his opposite forearm in a hard squeeze. The truck cab came back into focus, the brownies on the seat, her fading scent in the air. He exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing his shoulders to relax before he put the truck in gear.
----
A week slid by, quiet and strangely calm. The midday sun shone on the gravel drive as the delivery truck rumbled up, coughing diesel into the air. She stepped out onto the porch just as two men in gray shirts started unloading the stack of boxes: the new bed frame and mattress she’d ordered, plus four padded dining chairs she'd chosen specifically for their comfort during long grading sessions. She liked spreading out her laptop and papers across the dining table, no cramped desk setup, no gaming chair aesthetic.
Since the encounter with Bucky, no one else had clocked her as an omega -No casual sniffing, no lingering looks, no uncomfortable conversation- which she privately filed under her small victories list.
Then came the fine print.
The men, polite but unmovable, explained that their contract only covered delivery to the property line; the liability insurance forbade them from carrying anything inside. She looked at the heap growing on her front yard -the cardboard-wrapped mattress, the slats of the bed frame, the bundled chairs stacked like dominoes- then back at their bland, apologetic faces.
“You’re kidding,” she said flatly.
“Company policy, ma’am,” one replied, already scanning his clipboard. They put down the last box, took her signature, and were gone in a puff of gravel dust, leaving her alone with the mess.
She muttered a string of curses that would've made her city friends proud, but refused to be defeated. The padded chairs were light enough; she could start with those, then figure out later how to wrestle a queen mattress through the doorway without help.
----
Bucky sat in a corner booth at the diner, with a plate of steak and eggs cooling in front of him. He’d already delivered three loads of domestic firewood and couldn’t put off the errand any longer: he still had her tupperware in the passenger seat of the truck. A hint of red tinted his cheeks as he remembered eating all of them in one sitting when he came home, like a starved thing coming out of winter.
He finished his food, left cash on the table, and went back into the truck. As he rolled onto her street, he slowed down, frowning.
The front yard was littered with furniture: a mattress still in its protective wrap, lying in the grass like a stranded raft, chair cartons split at the corners, wooden rails stacked in haphazard pyramids. From a distance, it looked like a campsite after a storm.
He narrowed his eyes and pulled over, letting the engine idle. He didn’t want to barge in, didn’t want to assume she was alone with all that weight on her. For a moment, he stayed behind the wheel, tapping the food container with his thumb, observing.
Then she appeared through the doorway, unwrapped the last padded chair with a cutter, giving the empty carton a small kick, and disappeared back inside.
Bucky’s jaw clenched. He couldn’t believe that Bill and Eric dumped everything in the yard like that. It would have taken them two fucking minutes to carry the boxes to the living room.
Before his brain could line up the reasons to stay in the truck and drive away, his body had already made the decision. The door swung open, and his boots hit the pavement. He slammed it shut with more force than necessary and started walking toward the house, scowling at the mess and clutching the container.
She stepped back onto the porch just as he was glaring at the mattress.
When she spotted him -tupperware in hand, eyes narrowed at the chaos in her yard- she felt a small shock of surprise, quick and pleasant, like static under her skin.
The blockers might be dulling her scent, but they did nothing for the rest of her body's reaction: pulse spiking, pupils dilating, her tongue darting out to wet suddenly dry lips before she could stop herself. She lifted a hand in what she hoped was a casual wave. "Hi, James."
He blinked, as if he'd been so absorbed in his silent fury at the delivery situation that he'd forgotten she existed. Now his gaze focused on her face and stayed there a beat too long. He registered every micro-change in her: the slight tremor at her throat, the fast rhythm at her pulse point, the catch of her lower lip.
Something prickled under the skin of his jaw, the old alpha reflex he hadn’t asked stirring inside him like muscle memory. He straightened, brushing his thumb against the plastic container, and cleared his throat before answering her greeting.
“Hey.”
He passed the container from one hand to the other. “I uh- came to give this back.” His voice was a touch too flat, like he’d rehearsed it on the way over. “Sorry it took a while. Haven’t been down to town much.”
She reached for it with a small laugh, the kind of stupid sound she immediately regretted but couldn’t stop. “No problem. I didn’t think you were going to keep it hostage or anything.”
He let one corner of his mouth twitch. "Getting settled?" He jerked his chin toward the mattress and scattered boxes.
“Trying to.” She blew out a breath, placing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sold my old stuff in the city. With what I saved, I’m… slowly filling the place.”
Silence stretched between them until he cleared his throat again, the sound rougher this time.
"Let me guess." His voice dropped to something dangerously close to a growl. "Bill and Eric had somewhere else to be."
She sighed. “Company policy.”
He raised an eyebrow. Sure. Company policy probably meant they were running late for their standing poker game at Murphy's. He didn’t say it out loud. Instead, he glanced at the mattress, at her hands, then back at her.
“Let me help you with that,” he said. A beat later, softer, almost grudging but unable to help himself: “Since I’m already here.”
She felt that familiar flutter in her chest at his offer, the one that made her want to say yes immediately, and also made her wary of how much she wanted to say yes.
"You don't have to-"
"I know," he cut her off, already moving toward the mattress. "But you're not getting that thing inside by yourself."
She opened her mouth to protest again, but stopped when she saw him crouch to test the weight. The flannel stretched across his shoulders, the muscles in his forearms moved as he gripped the wrap, and she had to look away before her stare became obvious.
"Okay," she said, trying to sound casual. "Thank you."
----
Working together turned out easier than she expected. He let her guide corners and hold doors while he handled the actual lifting; she steadied the mattress as he angled it through the doorway, pressed herself flat against the frame as he pivoted it up the narrow hall. When it was clear she couldn’t help with the heavier parts, he wordlessly took over. In two trips, the mattress and the disassembled rails were stacked neatly in the bedroom.
Once everything was inside, he stretched his back with a soft grunt and wiped his palm down his jeans, glancing at the scattered pieces of the bedframe. “You got a toolbox?”
She laughed under her breath, a little embarrassed. “At the moment? A screwdriver and a hammer. I assumed that whoever delivered the bed would also assemble it.”
Bucky threw her a look, one brow raised.
“That’s how it works in the city,” she tried to excuse herself, placing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
He huffed out something that might have been a laugh, the corner of his lips twitched despite himself. “Don’t worry about it.” He turned on his heel and disappeared out the door.
A moment later, she heard the truck door slam and his boots on the porch again. He reappeared with a well-worn leather toolbox in one hand and set it down beside the stacked bed rails. Metal clinked softly as he flipped it open and began pulling out what he needed.
“This is getting more embarrassing by the minute,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’m sorry for making you lose your afternoon like this.”
He didn’t look up right away, measuring a bolt between his fingers before answering. “I can afford to choose how I spend my time.” His voice was even, but there was something deliberate under it. “This is how I'm choosing to spend it.".
She stood there for a beat, watching him kneel to fit two rails together, at the easy way his hands moved over tools and bolts. Outwardly, she kept her arms crossed, trying to project a polite neutrality. Inwardly, though, there was a traitorous spark of satisfaction seeing him handling her things, the patience in his movements, the way he seemed to fill the bedroom without even trying.
She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep the pleased smile off her face.
He’d told himself it was just the decent thing to do; no one should be left hauling a queen mattress alone, and that was true. It was in his nature to step in, shoulder the weight, solve the problem. He didn’t plan anything beyond that. No ulterior motives.
But as he crouched to accommodate the frame, he felt a traitorous little pull. He could feel her presence behind him, quiet, watchful. He could smell the faintest ghost of her scent under the blockers.
And it felt… wrong, and at the same time dangerously right, to be the one putting her bed together, to be the hands that had carried her mattress, that had been trusted inside her space, moving her most intimate belongings.
He shifted on his heels, forcing himself to concentrate on the bolt in his hand instead of the way his pulse had kicked up. He hadn’t come here to feel anything. Yet, with each turn of the wrench, it felt like something deeper than assembly, a kind of claim his body understood, even if his mind didn’t.
He exhaled slowly, flexing his shoulders. This wasn’t about him. It couldn’t be about him. But there was a low, insistent thrum in his blood at being the center of her attention, at being the one she'd trusted to build the place where she'd sleep tonight. He hated how much it satisfied something primal in him. Hated how it made him feel, for one reckless moment, less like a neighbor lending a hand and more like a wolf marking the boundaries of his territory.
She wiped her palms on her jeans and nodded toward the kitchen. “Since you've got this under control, the least I can do is make some coffee. If you want some.”
He didn’t look up from the frame he was tightening, just made a low sound of agreement in his chest. “Coffee sounds good.”
“Apple pie or almond biscuits?” she asked lightly from the doorway.
He paused mid-turn of the screwdriver. Apple pie or almond biscuits. For a moment, he just stared, his brain slow to catch up, like she'd suddenly started speaking in tongues.
“I…” His mouth quirked, caught between confusion and something that might have been the beginning of a smile. “Uh.”
She shifted her weight, suddenly self-conscious, wiping her hands on her thighs. “I bake when I’m bored,” she said, like it needed explaining.
He dropped his eyes back to the frame. The scent of wood, her voice offering pie, everything felt absurdly normal. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had offered him something baked that wasn’t out of a plastic wrapper.
He gave the screw another turn until the metal protested with a small screech. “I don’t even know what to pick,” he admitted, more to the wood than to her. “You choose. Surprise me.”
----
He caught the smell of coffee almost at the same time he set the mattress on the slats, the scent threading through the room like a hook. One last glance at the bed -trying and spectacularly failing not to picture her curled up there later- and he made himself step away, heading toward the kitchen.
He paused in the doorway, big shoulders nearly filling the frame. “All done.”
"Perfect timing," she said, glancing over her shoulder from where she stood at the counter. "Don't just hover there like you're afraid to sit down. Come on."
He nodded and complied. She placed a mug of coffee in front of him, then turned back to retrieve a plate that made him blink in surprise: a generous wedge of apple pie, alongside three almond biscuits arranged like an offering.
He stared at it longer than was probably polite. He'd told her to surprise him, but he didn’t picture that she’d give him both pie and biscuits, like some afternoon feast.
She caught his pause and the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. “What? You told me to surprise you,” she said lightly, picking up a biscuit for herself with a small shrug. "I aim to please."
He let his eyes linger on the plate a moment, the aroma of warm apples and cinnamon mingling with the faint undertone of hers. For just a second, he allowed himself the almost illicit luxury of being cared for, even in something as simple as too much dessert and fresh coffee.
a song for you — johnny storm x fem!reader
Johnny has a surprise for you.
For more context, read the og post. But this should be able to be read on its own.
warnings: fluff, reader owns a cafe and likes to sing, mdni
When Johnny has the chance, he helps you out in the cafe. He’s now an expert at taking people’s orders, serving the cheesecakes—and making them! He’s still not great at making coffee, but to be honest, you don’t really want him to. You love seeing his expression when he drinks the coffee you make. That sigh of relief, the relaxed smile, it makes you feel all warm and tingly inside.
These days, though, Johnny’s noticed you’ve been off. You still beam at him when he enters the cafe, and still smiling all day, but it’s quieter, and you sigh more often.
He thinks it’s probably stress, because ever since the city knows Johnny only visits one specific cafe—yours—it has gotten a lot busier. Your regulars, Jack and Robby, still manage to get their morning chess game, but it’s a little more rowdy now with workers stopping by in the morning, and big group orders throughout the day.
Johnny tries to help you de-stress with spa days, fully planned dinner dates, and night ins, and though you always seem so happy about it all, he can’t help but feel there’s still something bothering you.
And now he sees it again as you sigh quietly, shoulders dropping as you wipe down a table.
“Baby,” Johnny approaches, careful not to startle you, and spins you around to face him.
“Yes, Johnny?” You ask, a curious look in your eyes.
He rubs your arms up and down, unsure of how to start, but does anyway; “What’s going on?”
You blink at him in confusion, “What do you mean?”
“What’s on your mind?” He asks, standing a little closer to you now. “That’s like the third time you’ve sighed tonight.”
You’re caught off-guard. You didn’t expect Johnny to be so attentive. You chuckle nervously, trying to brush it off. “…It’s nothing, Johnny—”
“—that means it is something,” He cuts in, “No, look, I don’t mean to pry, I just…I’m worried.”
Your lips press into a thin line. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Johnny,” You glance at the posters hanging on your cafe walls: Emily Gardner’s special performance tonight!
“I’m just… reminiscing the past.”
Johnny looks at the posters of Emily Gardner, a fairly new artist who’s receiving the spotlight, who’s performing at your cafe tonight as part of her new album promo. “Emily Gardner?”
You nod, “We used to be close.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” You smile bitterly at the memory, “We’d busk in the streets, audition for musicals together, we had the same dream, basically. And…I decided not to pursue it anymore, but she continued… and I guess I’m just thinking of what could’ve been. I guess I just miss part of it. And I miss her too.”
Johnny gently pulls you into his arms. He’s unsure of what to say, but when you sigh against him, maybe even releasing whatever’s pent up inside you, he hugs you tighter.
“Don’t get me wrong,” You clarify, voice shaking a little, “I’m very happy with the cafe, and this is not me being jealous of her. I just… I miss singing. Performing.”
“’M sorry,” Johnny murmurs against your head.
“’S okay.” You murmur back, lifting your head to kiss him. “Thank you for listening.”
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Johnny’s heard you sing before. You’ve never sang particularly for him, but he’s heard you hum while making coffee, heard you sing in the shower as you’re doing now, and Johnny can only smile while he stands in front of the bathroom, listening as you belt out to “Natural Woman”.
“…Like a natural… woma—AAH!” You jump when you exit the bathroom, surprised by Johnny’s presence right outside the door. “Johnny!”
He only grins, pulling your still damp body, wrapped only in a towel, towards him. “Baby, you sound amazing.”
You laugh, swatting him playfully. “You scared me! What were you doing standing there?!”
He hums, nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck. “I thought I heard you singing so I wanted to listen some more.”
You don’t even try to hide your smile while he peppers kisses on your skin. “Johnny… I’m… I’m naked…”
Johnny chuckles, biting your neck, “All the better…”
He picks you up into his arms and you squeal in surprise. “What’s gotten into you, huh? You seem very… excited today.”
He smiles and sets you down on your vanity chair. “I have a surprise for you.”
You frown at him. “A surprise? On what occasion?”
“Can’t I just love my girlfriend?”
You roll your eyes. “So you want me to get ready?”
“Yes ma’am,” A mischievous smile plays on his lips, “No need to get fancy, though.”
You shake your head, but does as he says. You dry and do your hair as quickly as you can, picking out an outfit that’s not too fancy but still presentable for whatever he might have planned. You step out into the living room where he’s been waiting.
“You. Look. Beautiful.” He says in between kisses.
“I would’ve looked better if you’d told me like 3 hours in advance.”
“You’re right, totally on me,” Johnny holds his hands up in surrender, “But in my defense I only managed to pull this off like… 2 hours ago.”
Your brows knit in confusion, “Johnny, what do you—”
“Are you ready?”
“For?”
He grins, pulling out a scarf and placing it around your head, using it as a makeshift blindfold.
“Kinky.” You smirk.
“Oh, babe,” Johnny chuckles, “You have no idea—But not tonight! I have something else planned.”
He carefully guides you out, and when he finally reaches the outside world, he flies you to the destination. You still have no idea where he’s taking you, but the warmth of Johnny and his hold on you lets you know you can trust him.
Johnny lands on the side of the street, and the familiar ding of a doorbell reveals where you really are. “Johnny, you took me to the cafe?”
You can only hear Johnny chuckle as he takes off your blindfold.
You can see the commotion from outside—a group of people are sitting down around a small stage, like a mini concert.
“What are we doing here?”
Johnny smiles, bringing you to stand closer.
“There she is!”
Suddenly, all eyes are on you.
“The owner of our favorite cafe, the sweetest, most caring person, and my good friend.” Emily announces, her eyes slightly watery. She looks good. She looks happy. Grown into herself but still the same girl from your memories “It’s been a while, honey.”
You smile and nod, eyes equally as teary.
“I know we haven’t spoken in a while,” Emily says, “But will you come up here and sing for us?”
Johnny smiles gently, whispering behind you, “Surprise.”
Your smile falters, not expecting the request.
Emily senses your hesitation, but she offers you the mic anyway, waiting for you to take it. “Come on. For old time’s sake.”
Soon enough, the crowd starts gently chanting your name and it takes you aback. Johnny squeezes your hand, seeing how your heart secretly craves it. “Go on,” He encourages.
With a chuckle, you accept the mic from her hand.
“Only if you do a duet with me,” You say to Emily, and she nods, holding your hand.
The band starts playing a cover of “Close To You” and you and Emily sing together, holding hands, and you keep glancing back to Johnny, who’s staring at you like you hung the moon.
When the night ends, you and Emily got to catch up over lost years, and you hug her goodbye, promising to keep in touch.
Johnny waits a few feet behind you, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heel.
When you part ways with Emily, she spots Johnny and waves goodbye, yelling, “Thanks for doing this!”
Johnny gives her a polite smile and watches as she drives off.
You walk back to Johnny, smiling ear to ear. He didn’t get a chance to talk before you kiss him. Johnny smiles into the kiss, hugging you tightly.
“I love you so much, Johnny.” You say after breaking the kiss. “Tonight… God, I don’t know how to even begin to thank you for tonight.”
He smiles, analyzing your face, and being satisfied when he doesn’t see the stress behind your eyes anymore. “You’re amazing.”
You laugh, “I should say that to you. I couldn’t even have dreamed about tonight. But you made it happen. Thank you, really. For doing all of this.”
Johnny kisses your forehead, holding you close. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
ᥫ᭡ thinking about superman clark revealing his identity to you for the first time ever. he nervously fidgeted with his hands, gauging your reaction to the news. there were parts of you that doubted his confession, but everything made sense. everything added up. you’d never seen him without his stupid glasses, he’d be unavailable at the most random times— he was telling the truth.
ᥫ᭡ over time, you’d learned to live with it. the dangers, but also the good. he saved lives for christ’s sake. you couldn’t exactly complain.
ᥫ᭡ but then you learned more about him, his powers, his capabilities.
ᥫ᭡ clark had always been a big man no doubt, but now that you knew the man you saw on tv countless of times was yours, you saw him in a different light. you were dating superman. let that damn sink in!
ᥫ᭡ you picked up on how his hands got clammy when you would watch movies with him, extra beads falling from his forehead when he looked at you more intently. almost like he could see through you.
ᥫ᭡ when he would fuck you, hands on your hips as he rutted his against you, his moans would pick up significantly occasionally when he made no difference to the pace or angle. you were blissfully unaware he was using his x-ray vision to see what he was doing to you. his cock moving in and out of you repeatedly at different paces all throughout the night. “gosh,” he breathed out, closing his eyes. he felt like a pervert. he was looking inside your body without you even knowing but god, what he couldn’t see outside..he saw every detail inside and it drove him over the edge.
ᥫ᭡ or when he let himself completely go, fucking you until you opened your eyes, finding yourself in the air. the first time you were startled, but over time, you realized he could barely help himself. he still apologizes to this day when it happens. “‘m so sorry,” “gosh, i just can’t stop..i’m sorry..”
ᥫ᭡ or when he’d slip your panties off, he’d noticed how your hips jerked involuntarily when the cold air hit your clit. he smiled at that, remembering that he didn’t have to keep your sex completely vanilla. (as if the floating and x-ray vision was normal). with a bit of practice, he’d managed to blow his freeze breath on your clit, giving you immense pleasure that ice cubes back when you were experimenting with yourself couldn’t. he’d have to hold your hips down, blowing between your folds for as long as you begged him before finally eating you out, propping your legs on his shoulders, your hands gripping his curls like there was no tomorrow. “jesus, clark..”
ᥫ᭡ you never thought of leaving clark, even when he revealed the truth to you. he saw the best in everyone and trusted you with that secret, and you kept it. plus, the powers he had? oh, that made the sex so much better.
a song for you — johnny storm x fem!reader
Johnny has a surprise for you.
For more context, read the og post. But this should be able to be read on its own.
warnings: fluff, reader owns a cafe and likes to sing, mdni
When Johnny has the chance, he helps you out in the cafe. He’s now an expert at taking people’s orders, serving the cheesecakes—and making them! He’s still not great at making coffee, but to be honest, you don’t really want him to. You love seeing his expression when he drinks the coffee you make. That sigh of relief, the relaxed smile, it makes you feel all warm and tingly inside.
These days, though, Johnny’s noticed you’ve been off. You still beam at him when he enters the cafe, and still smiling all day, but it’s quieter, and you sigh more often.
He thinks it’s probably stress, because ever since the city knows Johnny only visits one specific cafe—yours—it has gotten a lot busier. Your regulars, Jack and Robby, still manage to get their morning chess game, but it’s a little more rowdy now with workers stopping by in the morning, and big group orders throughout the day.
Johnny tries to help you de-stress with spa days, fully planned dinner dates, and night ins, and though you always seem so happy about it all, he can’t help but feel there’s still something bothering you.
And now he sees it again as you sigh quietly, shoulders dropping as you wipe down a table.
“Baby,” Johnny approaches, careful not to startle you, and spins you around to face him.
“Yes, Johnny?” You ask, a curious look in your eyes.
He rubs your arms up and down, unsure of how to start, but does anyway; “What’s going on?”
You blink at him in confusion, “What do you mean?”
“What’s on your mind?” He asks, standing a little closer to you now. “That’s like the third time you’ve sighed tonight.”
You’re caught off-guard. You didn’t expect Johnny to be so attentive. You chuckle nervously, trying to brush it off. “…It’s nothing, Johnny—”
“—that means it is something,” He cuts in, “No, look, I don’t mean to pry, I just…I’m worried.”
Your lips press into a thin line. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Johnny,” You glance at the posters hanging on your cafe walls: Emily Gardner’s special performance tonight!
“I’m just… reminiscing the past.”
Johnny looks at the posters of Emily Gardner, a fairly new artist who’s receiving the spotlight, who’s performing at your cafe tonight as part of her new album promo. “Emily Gardner?”
You nod, “We used to be close.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” You smile bitterly at the memory, “We’d busk in the streets, audition for musicals together, we had the same dream, basically. And…I decided not to pursue it anymore, but she continued… and I guess I’m just thinking of what could’ve been. I guess I just miss part of it. And I miss her too.”
Johnny gently pulls you into his arms. He’s unsure of what to say, but when you sigh against him, maybe even releasing whatever’s pent up inside you, he hugs you tighter.
“Don’t get me wrong,” You clarify, voice shaking a little, “I’m very happy with the cafe, and this is not me being jealous of her. I just… I miss singing. Performing.”
“’M sorry,” Johnny murmurs against your head.
“’S okay.” You murmur back, lifting your head to kiss him. “Thank you for listening.”
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Johnny’s heard you sing before. You’ve never sang particularly for him, but he’s heard you hum while making coffee, heard you sing in the shower as you’re doing now, and Johnny can only smile while he stands in front of the bathroom, listening as you belt out to “Natural Woman”.
“…Like a natural… woma—AAH!” You jump when you exit the bathroom, surprised by Johnny’s presence right outside the door. “Johnny!”
He only grins, pulling your still damp body, wrapped only in a towel, towards him. “Baby, you sound amazing.”
You laugh, swatting him playfully. “You scared me! What were you doing standing there?!”
He hums, nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck. “I thought I heard you singing so I wanted to listen some more.”
You don’t even try to hide your smile while he peppers kisses on your skin. “Johnny… I’m… I’m naked…”
Johnny chuckles, biting your neck, “All the better…”
He picks you up into his arms and you squeal in surprise. “What’s gotten into you, huh? You seem very… excited today.”
He smiles and sets you down on your vanity chair. “I have a surprise for you.”
You frown at him. “A surprise? On what occasion?”
“Can’t I just love my girlfriend?”
You roll your eyes. “So you want me to get ready?”
“Yes ma’am,” A mischievous smile plays on his lips, “No need to get fancy, though.”
You shake your head, but does as he says. You dry and do your hair as quickly as you can, picking out an outfit that’s not too fancy but still presentable for whatever he might have planned. You step out into the living room where he’s been waiting.
“You. Look. Beautiful.” He says in between kisses.
“I would’ve looked better if you’d told me like 3 hours in advance.”
“You’re right, totally on me,” Johnny holds his hands up in surrender, “But in my defense I only managed to pull this off like… 2 hours ago.”
Your brows knit in confusion, “Johnny, what do you—”
“Are you ready?”
“For?”
He grins, pulling out a scarf and placing it around your head, using it as a makeshift blindfold.
“Kinky.” You smirk.
“Oh, babe,” Johnny chuckles, “You have no idea—But not tonight! I have something else planned.”
He carefully guides you out, and when he finally reaches the outside world, he flies you to the destination. You still have no idea where he’s taking you, but the warmth of Johnny and his hold on you lets you know you can trust him.
Johnny lands on the side of the street, and the familiar ding of a doorbell reveals where you really are. “Johnny, you took me to the cafe?”
You can only hear Johnny chuckle as he takes off your blindfold.
You can see the commotion from outside—a group of people are sitting down around a small stage, like a mini concert.
“What are we doing here?”
Johnny smiles, bringing you to stand closer.
“There she is!”
Suddenly, all eyes are on you.
“The owner of our favorite cafe, the sweetest, most caring person, and my good friend.” Emily announces, her eyes slightly watery. She looks good. She looks happy. Grown into herself but still the same girl from your memories “It’s been a while, honey.”
You smile and nod, eyes equally as teary.
“I know we haven’t spoken in a while,” Emily says, “But will you come up here and sing for us?”
Johnny smiles gently, whispering behind you, “Surprise.”
Your smile falters, not expecting the request.
Emily senses your hesitation, but she offers you the mic anyway, waiting for you to take it. “Come on. For old time’s sake.”
Soon enough, the crowd starts gently chanting your name and it takes you aback. Johnny squeezes your hand, seeing how your heart secretly craves it. “Go on,” He encourages.
With a chuckle, you accept the mic from her hand.
“Only if you do a duet with me,” You say to Emily, and she nods, holding your hand.
The band starts playing a cover of “Close To You” and you and Emily sing together, holding hands, and you keep glancing back to Johnny, who’s staring at you like you hung the moon.
When the night ends, you and Emily got to catch up over lost years, and you hug her goodbye, promising to keep in touch.
Johnny waits a few feet behind you, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heel.
When you part ways with Emily, she spots Johnny and waves goodbye, yelling, “Thanks for doing this!”
Johnny gives her a polite smile and watches as she drives off.
You walk back to Johnny, smiling ear to ear. He didn’t get a chance to talk before you kiss him. Johnny smiles into the kiss, hugging you tightly.
“I love you so much, Johnny.” You say after breaking the kiss. “Tonight… God, I don’t know how to even begin to thank you for tonight.”
He smiles, analyzing your face, and being satisfied when he doesn’t see the stress behind your eyes anymore. “You’re amazing.”
You laugh, “I should say that to you. I couldn’t even have dreamed about tonight. But you made it happen. Thank you, really. For doing all of this.”
Johnny kisses your forehead, holding you close. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Summary: The first time an alien crash landed in time square.
Warning: None
Word: 7.6k
Times Square had seen its share of chaos—taxi horns blaring, tourists gawking, flashing billboards that swallowed the night. But the moment the sky cracked with thunder, even New York paused.
A blazing streak shot downward, cutting through the clouds like fire. People screamed and scattered as the streak grew larger, brighter, hotter—until it slammed into the street with a deafening boom.
The ground shook. Car alarms blared. Smoke hissed from a crater in the middle of 7th Avenue.
And from the crater, you rose.
Your skin glowed faintly, heat steaming off your body as you staggered upright. Eyes wide, lips parted, you spun in place, overwhelmed by the towering screens and neon lights. The smells of food carts, exhaust, perfume—all of it clashed at once.
"This... is not Tamaran," you whispered in your own tongue, the words lilting and musical. No one understood you.
"Okay," Johnny Storm's voice cut in, casual even as his body shimmered with flame. He hovered above the crowd, smirk tugging at his lips. "That's new. We've got ourselves a glowing space girl."
"Johnny," Sue called firmly, shielding a cluster of civilians with a shimmering forcefield. "This is serious."
Reed's body stretched across the asphalt, pulling civilians out of harm's way while his eyes locked on you. "Definitely extraterrestrial. Biologically humanoid, but—"
You gasped at the sight of his stretching limbs, backing away with your hands raised, palms flickering with unstable energy.
"Reed, careful," Sue warned.
Ben stomped forward, stone fists raised. "Lemme guess—we punch first, talk later?"
"Hold on," Reed said, but too late.
You fired the first shot.
A crackling beam of golden energy exploded from your hands, colliding with Ben and sending him skidding back, asphalt breaking under his weight. The crowd screamed.
"Hey!" Johnny zipped lower, fire trailing behind him. "Not cool!"
You turned, eyes blazing, and unleashed another burst at him. Johnny twirled midair, laughing. "Whoo! Okay, she's got good aim. I like her already."
Your answer was a sharp command in Tamaranean, voice ringing with authority. No one understood.
"Still no subtitles!" Johnny called, swooping down.
Reed tried to restrain you, stretching his arms around your wrists, but you twisted with inhuman strength and hurled him into the side of a bus. Sue's shield barely held against the next blast from your eyes, cracks spidering across the invisible wall.
"Reed, this isn't working!" Sue shouted.
Johnny landed in front of you, raising his hands. "Okay, hey—let's chill. Maybe we just... talk this out?"
You didn't understand. You grabbed him by the front of his suit and slammed him down hard enough to rattle his teeth. Flames sputtered against your grip as he struggled, staring up at you.
And then—you leaned down and pressed your lips against his.
The world froze.
Johnny's flames snuffed out in shock. Reed blinked from across the street. Ben muttered, "What the hell—" and Sue's jaw dropped.
You pulled back, eyes softening, and when you spoke again, the words came out in fluent English.
"Why are you attacking me?"
Johnny sat up, coughing, eyes wide. "Uh—wait, what?"
Reed's eyes widened. "She can speak English now."
Ben frowned. "How'd that happen?"
_______
The Baxter Building hummed with quiet energy, its sleek corridors lined with gleaming glass and metal. To you, though, it felt like stepping into a living machine. Every light, every panel, every beeping console was a mystery begging to be touched.
You padded barefoot across the floor, pausing every few steps to press a button or flip a switch. A lamp blinked on and off, on and off, making you jump each time.
"Light without fire," you whispered in awe, touching the bulb gingerly. "How does it burn without heat?"
"It's electricity," Reed answered absently, scribbling notes at his desk. "A current harnessed through filaments to—"
But you had already wandered away, crouching in front of the refrigerator. You tugged it open and gasped as cold air poured over your face. "Snow!" you exclaimed. "You have snow in a box!"
Johnny leaned against the counter, grinning. "That's a fridge. Keeps food fresh."
Your eyes darted over the shelves until they landed on a carton of milk. You picked it up, shook it, and peered through the plastic like it was a potion. "White liquid," you said with reverence. "What is its purpose?"
"Uh, that's milk," Johnny said, grabbing a glass. "You drink it."
Obediently, you took the glass he poured for you and gulped it down in one go. Your eyes watered instantly. "It tastes... strange. Thick. Like clouds that forgot how to float."
Johnny burst out laughing. "That is the weirdest review of milk I've ever heard."
You set the glass down carefully, nodding with determination. "I will try again until I like it. If it is important to Earth, I must learn."
"So about before," Johnny remarked looking down at you. "You were just speaking gibberish and now you're fluent English? How—how did you do that?"
Sue spoke next, her tone was careful. "Yes. You couldn't understand us before. What changed?"
You tilted your head, studying their puzzled faces like the answer was obvious. Your fingers touched your lips lightly, almost with pride.
"I... borrowed your words," you explained softly, your accent melodic. "On Tamaran, when we do not know another's tongue, we take it. From here." You tapped your mouth gently. "Through contact."
Johnny's eyes went wide. "Through... kissing?"
You blinked at him, trying the word out as if it were brand-new. "Kissing. Yes. That is what you call it." Your eyes flickered with faint golden light as you smiled, almost proud. "It was very effective. I understand all of you now."
Ben let out a low whistle. "Well, ain't that somethin'."
Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, still rattled. "Yeah, uh—just so you know, that's not... the normal way we do things around here."
Your brow furrowed, confusion softening your glowing features. "It is not?" You looked genuinely curious. "But how do your people learn new words, then? If not by sharing breath and thought through mouths?"
Reed's eyes lit up with scientific curiosity. "Fascinating. A direct linguistic transfer through physical contact. The process must be neurochemical in nature—"
Johnny cut him off, flustered. "Okay, okay, science later. Can we just... acknowledge that I just got space-kissed by an alien who now speaks English? Because that's a lot to process."
You blinked innocently at him. "I did not harm you, did I?”
Johnny glanced at the faint scorch mark on his suit from when you slammed him down, then at your wide, earnest eyes. "...No. No, you're fine.”
"Good," you said with simple sincerity. "Then it worked."
Sue leaned on the counter, arms crossed but her expression soft. "Johnny, don't overwhelm her. She's adjusting."
"I'm helping!" Johnny protested. "I'm, like, cultural orientation. Way more fun than Reed's science lectures."
Reed glanced up with mild irritation. "She is a biological marvel. If she allows me a proper scan—"
But you were already pulling open a drawer and marveling at the cutlery. You picked up a fork and held it like a weapon. "Blades with many teeth," you murmured. "For battle?"
Johnny snatched it gently from your hand. "Uh, not exactly. That's for eating spaghetti."
You tilted your head, uncomprehending. "What is 'spaghetti'?"
Johnny grinned, tapping his temple. "Don't worry. I'll show you."
_____
A little later, you discovered Reed's TV. You sat cross-legged in front of the giant screen while Johnny flipped through channels with the remote.
"Moving paintings!" you gasped, eyes huge as a cartoon dog bounced across the screen. "They are alive, but trapped."
Johnny snorted. "That's called a cartoon."
"Cartoon," you repeated carefully, tilting your head. Then your face brightened. "I like cartoon."
He switched to a cooking show, then the news, then a soap opera. You gasped every time, clutching his sleeve. "So much knowledge! How do you choose what truth to believe?"
Johnny rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh... yeah, that's kind of a problem here too."
Sue poked her head in and sighed at the sight of you practically glued to the screen. "She's going to fry her brain before Reed even gets a chance to study her."
But Johnny just smirked. "Hey, it's called immersion learning."
You pointed at the soap opera characters kissing passionately on screen. "That," you said proudly, "is how you learn language."
Johnny nearly dropped the remote. "Uh—nope. That's... different. Whole different thing."
You frowned, confused. "But it looks the same."
Johnny groaned, burying his face in his hands while Sue laughed from the doorway.
_______
After the TV debacle, Johnny decided you needed something simple—something you couldn't possibly confuse.
"Okay," he said, tugging you toward the table. "Lesson one: Earth food that doesn't taste like sad clouds. Pizza."
You blinked at him as though he'd just declared himself king of the universe. "Pee-za?" you repeated carefully.
Ben carried a stack of pizza boxes, setting them down with a thud. "Hope you like food that doesn't explode," he said with a grin.
Sue placed plates and napkins around the table. "Try not to make a mess," she said gently, though her smile softened the warning.
Reed, sitting at the head of the table, adjusted his glasses. "Pizza is... simple. Low risk. You'll manage."
You climbed into a chair and leaned over the largest box, eyes wide. "It smells... alive."
Johnny laughed, opening the lid to reveal steaming slices. "Not alive. Just amazing."
You hesitated, picking up a slice. Strings of cheese stretched between your fingers and the box, making you giggle. "It fights me," you said.
"Just bite it," Johnny encouraged. "Trust me."
You did—and your entire face lit up. "It is... glorious!" you declared, mouth still full. "The flavors—they dance together! Fire and bread and... what is the red?"
"Tomato sauce," Ben said, taking a big bite himself.
"Tomato," you repeated reverently, like it was sacred. You took another enormous bite, humming happily. "Your world is strange... but it makes this."
Sue handed you a napkin, and you tilted your head. "Lesson two: napkins," she said softly.
"I will learn napkin," you replied, carefully wiping cheese from your lips.
Johnny leaned back, watching you with a grin that softened into something quieter. "Yeah. Not so bad, huh?"
Ben chuckled. "You're fitting right in already."
_____
That night, he took you up to the roof. The city unfolded below—miles of glittering lights, endless rivers of headlights crawling through the streets. You walked right to the edge, barefoot, hair tossing in the wind, staring down with wide eyes.
"It is so alive," you whispered. "Your world is loud, and bright, and it never rests."
"Yeah," Johnny said softly, standing beside you. "That's New York. The city that never sleeps."
You pointed to the massive billboards glowing above the streets. "Are those stars?"
Johnny laughed. "Nah. Those are ads. Like... fake stars trying to sell you junk."
You looked utterly baffled. "Why would stars sell things?"
Johnny opened his mouth, then shut it again, laughing helplessly. "Man, I don't even know where to start."
You turned to him, your face bathed in neon light. "Your world is confusing," you admitted. "But it is beautiful."
For once, Johnny didn't have a comeback. He just looked at you, and for a rare moment, the fire in him burned quiet.
"Yeah," he said finally, almost to himself. "Sometimes it really is."
"Johnny..." you said softly, looking up at him. "Fly... with me?"
He blinked, taken off guard. "Uh... you mean, like—right now?"
You nodded, a small, excited smile tugging at your lips. "Yes. Please."
Johnny grinned, flames flickering around his hands. "Alright... try to keep up."
Before you realized it, he shot upward into the night sky, and you followed instinctively. The wind whipped past you, and the city below shrank into ribbons of neon and moving headlights.
Johnny pointed toward the city lights. "See that? Empire State. Over there, Times Square—where you first landed. And way off that way, that's the river we were dodging drones over the other day."
You listened, eyes shining, occasionally leaning closer to him as if drawn by his presence.
For a heartbeat, you drifted a little too close to a building, caught in the thrill and wonder of the city. Johnny's hand shot to your waist instinctively, pulling you flush against him, keeping you steady midair.
Your chest pressed lightly against his back, and the sudden closeness sent a rush of warmth through both of you. You blinked, heart pounding, cheeks flushing. "...I... I did not see," you whispered, breathless.
He chuckled softly, his lips brushing near your ear as he steadied you. "Yeah... I got you. Don't worry."
You laughed nervously, still pressed to him. "...Thank... you."
You hovered together for a moment, the city lights reflecting in your eyes. Then slowly, deliberately, you relaxed against him, feeling the quiet intimacy of the moment—a shared heartbeat in the midst of the chaotic city below.
When you finally descended back to the roof, neither of you spoke immediately, just shared a small, lingering smile, knowing something unspoken had shifted between you.
"You okay?" Johnny finally asked, his voice softer than usual.
"Yes... I... I am" you said, brushing a hand across your hair, still flushed from the thrill and closeness.
Johnny smiled, ruffling your hair gently. "Good. Me too."
________
The Baxter Building had tall windows, and though you were told to stay inside, you often pressed your palms against the glass and peered down at the streets. People bustled below, completely unaware of you. Sometimes you wondered what they might think if they looked up and saw you staring back.
They did not wonder for long.
The first photograph appeared the next morning. Someone with a zoom lens had caught you on the rooftop with Johnny, the two of you silhouetted against the neon skyline. Headlines followed quickly:
"Fifth Member of the Fantastic Four?"
"Alien Girl or Publicity Stunt?"
"Who's the Mystery Woman With the Human Torch?"
Sue placed the newspaper flat on the kitchen table, her lips pressed thin. "It was only a matter of time," she said.
You looked down at the picture, utterly baffled. "How did they trap us inside paper? Is this magic?"
Reed rubbed his temple. "Photography. A chemical and digital process of capturing light."
You traced the grainy outline of yourself on the page, tilting your head. "I look... small. Flat. Like a shadow."
Johnny leaned over your shoulder, smirking. "Well, at least they got my good side."
You frowned. "They should not have taken us without asking."
"That's New York for you," Ben muttered. "Everyone's got a camera."
⸻
By afternoon, crowds had started to gather outside the building. From the window, you saw them—clusters of people pointing, snapping pictures, holding up homemade signs. Some signs welcomed you: We ♥ Alien Girl! Others were less kind: Go Home, Space Invader!
"They do not even know me," you whispered, pressing your hand to the glass. "Why do they love me... or hate me?"
Sue came to stand beside you, folding her arms gently. "People fear what they don't understand. And they're curious. You're new. Different."
You turned, eyes wide. "Is being different dangerous here?"
Johnny slipped in between you and the window, grinning in that easy way of his. "Nah. Being different is the only thing that makes this city fun."
That made you smile, even if your chest still felt heavy.
⸻
By evening, news vans parked along the curb. Bright lights flashed against the glass. Ted Koppel's face appeared on the television, announcing he'd be speaking with the Fantastic Four—and their mysterious new guest—in an exclusive interview.
Johnny flopped onto the couch, tossing a pillow into the air. "Well, guess we're going prime time."
You tilted your head. "Prime time?"
"Means the whole world's about to meet you," Sue explained softly.
Your eyes widened, childlike wonder mixing with sudden nerves. "The whole world? Through the moving paintings?"
Johnny grinned, giving you a mock-salute. "Yup. Welcome to Earth, star girl."
_____
The Baxter Building's living room had been turned into a makeshift dressing area. Bright lights, a few cameras resting on tripods, and piles of clothes everywhere.
You sat cross-legged on the couch, holding a suit that was far too stiff for your taste, tilting your head in puzzlement. "This... is clothing for ceremony?"
Johnny hovered above you, flames flickering nervously around his wrists. "Nah. Just... normal human clothes. Kinda fancy for humans who talk to cameras."
You examined the jacket like it might bite. "It is... heavy. And it smells like... metal?"
"That's just the fabric," Johnny said, grinning. "You'll survive. Trust me. Think of it as armor for social combat."
You tilted your head. "Social combat?"
Johnny flopped beside you, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. "Interview. Humans talk. Sometimes they ask tricky questions. You answer without... overwhelming them with lasers or kisses."
Your eyes went wide. "No kisses?"
Johnny nodded gravely. "No kisses. At least, not yet."
You touched your lips, looking puzzled. "But kissing... it is how I learn words. How I speak your tongue."
Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, "Yeah... that's why we're having this conversation."
Sue entered the room with a calm, reassuring smile. "Don't worry. Just be yourself. Speak clearly, take your time. We will help you."
You turned to him, eyes wide and innocent. "You will help me?"
Johnny grinned, ruffling your hair gently. "Yep. That's my job."
_______
The studio lights were blinding, casting long shadows across the stage as you and the Fantastic Four were led to your seats. You had your hands folded neatly in your lap, legs swinging slightly, eyes wide as you took in the audience's roaring applause.
"Do not be afraid," Sue whispered, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "They're excited to meet you."
You nodded, still unsure. "Excited? Or..."
Johnny leaned close, grinning. "Mostly excited.. Don't worry."
The host, Ted Ferguson, stepped forward, microphone in hand, flashing a practiced smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a very special guest: the newest member of the Fantastic Four—and an extraordinary visitor from another world."
Applause and cheers filled the studio. You shifted in your seat, feeling your cheeks warm. The sound was so much louder than you expected.
Ted turned to you. "So... tell us a little about yourself. Where are you from, and how did you end up on Earth?"
You straightened, clasping your hands together. "I am from Tamaran," you began, your voice soft but clear. "My home... was destroyed. I have been searching for a place to live, to belong. Earth is... beautiful, and I hoped it might be a place where I could stay."
The audience erupted in polite applause. You tilted your head at the sound. "Do they approve?" you whispered to Johnny.
Johnny leaned down, giving you a quick grin. "Yep. They like you. You're good."
Ted's brow quirked. "And... we hear you have a rather unusual way of learning languages?"
You nodded earnestly. "Yes. I must... touch mouths to learn words. To speak."
A ripple of laughter went through the audience. You frowned slightly, tilting your head.
Johnny covered his face, groaning. "Uh... don't worry about it. They just think it's... funny."
Ted, catching the cue, tapped his own lips jokingly. "So, do you want to learn a little Spanish?"
Your eyes lit up, wide and innocent. "I would love to."
Without thinking, you took a few eager steps forward, hands held out slightly, ready to follow the method you knew.
Johnny leapt in, blocking your path, placing a hand gently on you waist pushing you back to your seat. "Whoa, slow down."
Sue leaned toward the cameras, smiling warmly. "We haven't explained what 'joking' means to her."
The audience roared with laughter. You blinked, tilting your head. "is it a type of food?"
Johnny groaned, muttering under his breath, "Nope. Definitely not a type of food."
You looked back at him, eyes wide and earnest. "Then I must learn this... 'joke.' How?"
Johnny laughed despite himself. "One step at a time, One step at a time."
You settled back into your seat, still curious, still glowing faintly, still utterly human in your wonder—even as the whole world watched you.
_____
The cameras flashed like lightning as you stood stiffly in front of a Fantastic Four banner, arms crossed just as Sue had shown you. Johnny leaned against the backdrop with his trademark cocky grin, smoldering at the cameras like he was born for it.
You, on the other hand, were tilting your head with an uncertain smile.
"Am I... doing this correct?" you whispered.
Johnny leaned down, lips close to your ear. "Perfect. You look like a star already."
You blinked at him, confused. "I am not star. I am... person."
He laughed and straightened. "No, no. It means you look incredible. Trust me, everyone's eating this up."
When you beamed brightly at the cameras—truly, innocently—the photographers erupted in excitement. Johnny groaned. "Great. Now you're the fan favorite."
Later, magazine covers read: "Fantastic Five?" / "Alien Heroine: Friend or Threat?" / "Flame Meets Firepower: Sparks Fly Between Johnny Storm and the Newcomer."
Sue rolled her eyes when she saw the last one. Johnny smirked for hours.
_________
Against Puppet Master's creations, you flew beside Ben, blasting apart animated wooden soldiers. He grunted after smashing one to pieces.
"Not bad, kid. You're quicker than you look."
You beamed. "We make strong team."
Later, during a clash with Hydro-Man, you soared above his waves, unleashing beams of searing energy while Johnny boiled the water to steam. Reporters caught the moment when you and Johnny struck side by side, laughing breathlessly. Headlines the next day: "Dynamic Duo? Alien and Human Torch Heat Up the Fight!"
But not every battle went smoothly.
During a fight with the Wizard, you slowed midair, mesmerized by the neon lights glinting off a glass tower. Just for a heartbeat, you forgot the danger. That was all it took for one of the Wizard's drones to lock onto you.
"Watch it!" Johnny roared, flames bursting as he streaked across the sky. He wrapped an arm around your waist, spinning you out of the blast's path. The drone's energy bolt skimmed the air where you had been.
He hovered with you pressed to him, fire trailing off his shoulders as he glared down at the villain below. "You try that again, and I'll turn your toys into scrap metal!" His voice cracked with fury, but it wasn't at you—it was all for the Wizard.
You glanced up at him, startled, still feeling the heat of his arm steady at your side. "You... saved me."
Johnny looked down, his anger softening when he saw your wide eyes. "Yeah, of course I did." His thumb brushed your hip before he realized it and pulled his hand back slowly, though not completely. "Just... don't drift off on me like that, okay? Just stay close."
Your cheeks warmed, and you nodded, quieter than usual. "...I'll stay close."
"Good," Johnny said, smirking faintly, though his voice carried more relief than teasing. He let you go gently, flames trailing as he turned back toward the fight. "Now, let's roast this guy."
Ben's voice rumbled through the comms, amused. "Well, looks like Torch's priorities are clear."
You pretended not to hear—but you didn't drift far from Johnny again.
_______
"Hold still," Reed muttered as wires and sensors dotted your arms. The machines hummed, spitting out data as your energy levels spiked.
You craned your neck, watching the monitor. "That squiggle is me?"
Reed adjusted his glasses. "That's your energy pattern. It's extraordinary. I've never seen anything so—"
"Beautiful squiggle," you interrupted proudly.
Reed stopped mid-sentence, then allowed himself a faint smile. "Yes. Beautiful squiggle."
When he asked you to lift a bar weighted for Ben, you did so with ease, giggling when the equipment snapped under your grip. Reed scribbled notes furiously, muttering about "upper limits" and "cosmic energy resonance."
Johnny peeked into the lab, watching you flex your strength with curiosity. "Careful, Stretch. Don't poke and prod her too much. She might decide she likes me better."
You tilted your head. "Like... you better?"
Johnny smirked. "Yeah. Who wouldn't?"
Reed groaned. "Johnny, out."
________
The kitchen smelled of frying onions as Ben maneuvered a spatula in his massive rocky hand. HERBIE hovered nearby, reading out a recipe.
"Add one teaspoon of paprika," the robot chimed.
"Teaspoon? My hand's bigger than the whole jar," Ben muttered. He glanced at you. "Hey, kid, wanna help out?"
You nodded eagerly, leaning over the pan. "It smells... happy."
Ben chuckled. "That's dinner. It's supposed to."
You carefully stirred with a wooden spoon, tongue peeking out in concentration. HERBIE buzzed approvingly. "Good motion. Even distribution achieved."
Ben winked at you. "You're a natural."
Later, when the team sat down, you proudly announced: "I helped make this food. It tastes... alive."
Johnny nearly spit out his bite laughing. "Alive? You mean good."
Ben crossed his arms, smirking. "Don't knock it, hotshot. She's right. Food's gotta have life in it."
______
Sue sat cross-legged on your bed, a pile of new clothes spread out around her. "Okay," she said, holding up two shirts. "These two go together. Matching colors is important, or else people will stare for the wrong reasons."
Behind the folding screen, you pulled on a pair of jeans and a soft sweater. "Earth has so many rules for clothing," you said, voice muffled. "On Tamaran, we wore what made us feel strong."
Sue smiled. "Here, it's more about expression—and sometimes, practicality."
The door creaked open and Johnny leaned against the frame, grinning. "She could wear a potato sack and still turn heads."
You stepped out just then, tugging at the sleeves of the sweater, hair slightly mussed from changing. You blinked at him. "A potato sack? Would that look good?"
Sue sighed. "He's exaggerating. Don't listen to him."
But Johnny only smirked. "Hey, with or without clothes, I'm sure anything works."
You tilted your head at his words, studying him. Then, completely serious, you said, "You have already seen me without clothing. And you liked it."
The room froze.
Johnny's mouth dropped open. His face went red so fast Sue almost laughed. "Wha—hey—I—" He sputtered, pointing vaguely at the hall like he might run for safety.
Sue's eyes widened. "Wait. What?"
You frowned, glancing between them. "When I was changing. He came in. He looked. I did not mind."
Johnny slapped a hand over his mouth hiding his smirk. "Maybe, please stop telling people that."
Sue pressed her fingers to her temples, caught between amusement and disbelief. "Okay, first of all, Johnny—you need to learn to knock. Second—" she turned to you gently, "—on Earth, that kind of thing is private. If you tell someone you don't mind them seeing you... it sounds like you're inviting them.”
You blinked, confused. "Inviting them to... what?"
Johnny choked, running a hand through his hair. "Nope. I'm out. I can't do this." He bolted out of the room, mumbling something about needing air.
"I should not invite Johnny?" You tilted your head, still puzzled. "But he likes to see me?"
Sue sighed, laughing despite herself. "Yeah, sweetie. That's the problem."
_________
The months since your arrival had passed in a blur of laughter, exploration, and rooftop nights overlooking the city. New York had grown used to you—mostly—and the Fantastic Four had become your family.
But the peace shattered with Reed's urgent voice over the comm.
"Everyone, I need you in the lab. Now."
You floated down from your room and followed the others, curiosity prickling your chest. Reed stood hunched over a glowing console, multiple screens awash with violent waves of shifting energy signatures. His jaw was tight, fingers tapping rapidly across the keys.
Sue was the first to step forward. "Reed? What's happening?"
Reed adjusted his glasses, not looking away from the screen. "Unusual energy readings. They've been escalating for the past hour. And now—" he tapped a graph that spiked so sharply it looked like a blade "—something massive is approaching Earth. High velocity. Purposeful trajectory."
Ben crossed his arms, frowning. "So we're talkin' big? Like how big?"
Johnny let out a low whistle. "Company, huh? Can't be good."
You hovered near the ceiling, your heart sinking, the air suddenly harder to breathe. A shiver crawled across your skin. You already knew. You had known the moment the alarms went off.
Sue turned her head, watching you carefully. "You okay?"
"I..." Your voice caught. You forced it out, softer. "I feel... nervous."
Johnny tilted his head at you, frowning. "You look worse than nervous. What's going on?"
Reed finally turned from the console, his face serious. "Whoever—or whatever—is out there isn't just passing by. They're coming here. Directly here."
Your stomach twisted. Fingers curled tightly against your palms, energy sparking faintly at your fingertips. You wanted to tell them, you needed to—but the words locked in your throat, strangled by fear.
Johnny noticed first, his flame flickering along his arm. "Hey. You're acting weird. Talk to us."
"I... I cannot," you whispered, eyes darting away.
Sue's voice softened. "Cannot or... will not?"
You shook your head, guilt boiling in your chest. "If I tell you... you will be angry. You will hate me."
Ben shifted, his gravelly voice quieter than usual. "Kid, we've seen each other at our worst. Nothin's gonna make us hate ya."
Reed's gaze was sharp, unrelenting. "If something's wrong, we need to know. The safety of this planet depends on it."
You flinched at his tone, hugging yourself. Every warning from the monitors pressed heavier on your shoulders. Every second you stayed silent felt like a betrayal.
Johnny stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You're scaring us more by not saying anything. Just tell me. Please."
The plea in his voice broke you.
You dropped to the floor, no longer hovering, and the words tumbled out in a rush, as if you'd been holding them back for too long.
"I said... my planet was destroyed. That was not true." Your breath came faster, chest heaving. "Tamaran still lives. I—" You stopped, biting your lip until you tasted copper.
Reed's eyes narrowed. "Go on."
"I left," you said quickly, the words spilling before you could stop them. "I left because I am... I am a princess there. And they... they wanted me to marry. An arranged marriage. To someone I did not want. I ran away. I thought—if I came here, no one would follow. No one would know. I wanted to choose for myself."
The room fell silent.
Johnny blinked. "Wait. You're a... princess?"
Your throat tightened. "Yes." You stared at the floor, ashamed. "And now they come. They come for me. Because of me, your world is in danger."
Sue shook her head firmly. "That's not your fault."
But you weren't listening. Your voice rose, trembling. "I should surrender. If I give myself, they will leave. They will not hurt Earth if I go. That is the only way."
Johnny's flames sparked brighter, his face twisting. "Are you kidding me? No way. You're not just handing yourself over."
You shook your head violently, tears stinging your eyes. "You do not understand! They will kill you if I stay. Your world will suffer because of me!"
Ben's voice rumbled, steady. "We've faced worse. You think we're gonna roll over now?"
Sue reached for your hand. "You're part of this family. And we don't abandon family."
But it was Reed's voice, calm and unwavering, that cut through the panic. He stepped forward, meeting your eyes. "You have every right to choose your life. You ran because you wanted freedom. That is not a crime—it is courage. And whatever force is coming for you, they will face us as well. Together."
You stared at him, lips trembling, your chest rising and falling too fast. "But... what if we lose?"
Johnny moved to your side, fire dimmed to a soft glow, his hand brushing yours. "Then we lose together. But I'm not letting you go without a fight."
The knot in your chest loosened—not gone, but lighter. For the first time since the alarms began, you let yourself breathe.
And deep inside, you realized: surrendering was no longer an option. Not with them beside you.
_______
Before you could answer, the alarms shrieked again, louder this time. The monitors flared with red warnings as energy signatures spiked off the charts.
Sue looked at the screen, eyes wide. "Reed... they're here."
"Already?" Johnny hissed, flames flickering across his shoulders.
A low rumble vibrated through the Baxter Building, rattling the lab equipment. The sound wasn't from inside—it was the city itself, groaning under the force of something descending fast from the sky.
You clutched your arms tight to your chest, terror flooding your voice. "It is them. The guard. They... they found me."
Ben cracked his stone fists together. "Then let's give 'em a proper welcome."
Reed's jaw set. "Everyone—move."
⸻
The four of them rushed out, you trailing behind with a weight of dread dragging every step. But when you reached the rooftop, the night sky confirmed your fears.
A massive ship hovered above Manhattan, obsidian and sharp-edged, its underbelly glowing with Tamaranian energy you knew too well. Around it, smaller crafts swarmed, soldiers clad in armor descending on beams of light.
The streets below screamed with panic.
Johnny swore under his breath. "You weren't exaggerating."
Your voice cracked. "They will not stop until I return with them."
"Not happening," Johnny snapped, fire bursting fully to life as he lifted off the rooftop.
The first wave of Tamaranean soldiers landed with a clash of steel and fire, energy bolts cutting across the night sky. Reed stretched forward to shield civilians, Sue raised a dome of shimmering force around a fleeing crowd, and Ben barreled into the first group with a roar.
You hesitated. Your powers crackled at your palms, but fear rooted you to the spot.
One soldier locked eyes with you and lunged.
"MOVE!" Johnny shouted.
The soldier fired an energy blast straight for your chest—Johnny streaked in, flames blazing, intercepting it midair. He wrapped an arm tight around your waist, pulling you against him. The heat of his fire mixed with the thundering of your heart.
"Eyes up, princess," he breathed, half a grin cutting through his worry. "You're with me."
Together, you shot into the sky.
⸻
The battle blurred around you—flashes of Reed's arms snaring ships from the sky, Sue throwing up shields to protect screaming civilians, Ben tearing through soldiers with unshakable fury.
Johnny guided you higher, weaving through beams of fire. "Focus on me. You can do this."
You nodded, breath shaky, and hurled an orb of green energy toward an enemy craft. It exploded brilliantly, scattering metal across the sky.
Your heart hammered as you whispered, "Johnny..."
He caught your gaze for a split second, eyes burning with fire and something softer. Then he grinned sharply. "Let's fry the rest of 'em together."
And for the first time since the alarms rang, you believed you could.
Then it happened.
A searing, jagged beam struck your back, the energy almost identical to your own. Pain flared through your body like a living thing, burning along your spine and exploding in your chest. You cried out, voice caught somewhere between shock and fear, as your body was hurled through the air.
Time slowed in a terrifying, vivid instant. The city stretched and twisted around you. Screaming civilians below, the chaotic dance of fire and energy from Johnny, the stone fists of Ben moving like meteors—none of it registered clearly. All you felt was the agony tearing through you.
You slammed into the ground with a deafening crack, the force of impact jarring your bones and knocking the breath from your lungs. You slid across the plaza, grinding against stone, your hands scraping as you tried to stop.
For a moment, the world went silent, except for the ringing in your ears. Pain clouded your vision; the edges of the plaza blurred, the lights of the city smeared into lines of color.
The heat of battle still lingered in the air—the acrid scent of scorched concrete, the hum of fading energy blasts. You struggled to your knees, winded and aching, chest rising and falling too fast. The impact from the beam had knocked the breath out of you, and your body screamed in protest.
"Are you okay?!" Johnny's voice cut through your daze. He hovered beside you, flames dancing low around his wrists, his eyes scanning every inch of your body.
"I... I... yes," you whispered, though your muscles burned and your back throbbed from the impact.
Ben crouched down, placing a massive hand gently on your shoulder. "Don't move too fast. You're shaken, but you're still here. That's what counts."
Sue hovered above, her force field flickering protectively, glancing skyward.
And then, like a living shadow tearing through the clouds, they descended.
Two figures, regal and immense, cut across the night sky—your parents. Your mother's robes flowed with an otherworldly luminescence; your father's body crackled faintly with the same energy that had blasted you moments before. The plaza felt impossibly small beneath their presence.
Your stomach tightened, and your hands curled into fists as your pulse surged. The beam that had struck you still throbbed in your memory, a burning reminder of their power.
"You defied us," your mother's voice rang out, sharp as a blade. It carried authority that made your knees want to buckle. "You abandoned your duty. You were meant to lead. You were meant to serve your people, and yet you ran."
Your lips trembled, but you forced words out, breath shaky. "...I... I had to leave. I could not stay. The arranged marriage... I could not accept it. I could not be forced."
Your father's eyes narrowed, energy humming around him like a living storm. "You disobeyed your family, your people. You leave everything behind. And now... you expect us to let you make this choice?"
"I have to," you said, voice rising slightly but still quivering. "This is where I belong. I want to stay. I cannot go back. I... I choose this life. Here. With them."
Your mother's voice snapped, rising like a whip. "Do you understand what you are saying? You are giving up your throne, your people, everything we have built. Do you think this is a game?"
"I am not playing," you said firmly, a tear slipping down your cheek. "I'm not running away. I want to protect them. I want to protect this world. I choose this. I am ready."
Your father's energy flared briefly, a crackling halo of power around him. "You are reckless, naive. You have no idea what you are giving up. You have no right to decide your fate!"
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand taller, fists glowing faintly with energy as you channeled the nervous tremor into resolve. Reed stepped forward, calm but resolute.
"She does. She has every right to choose her life," Reed said firmly. "No one can force her to be something she is not. This—your daughter—has shown courage beyond measure. You would do well to respect that."
Your mother's gaze snapped to him, sharp and appraising, but she said nothing, letting his words linger like a weight in the air.
You drew a deep, shaky breath, eyes never leaving your parents. "...I do have the right. I will not rule. I choose to live here. I will protect the people I care about."
For a long moment, your mother's glare pinned you in place, and you felt the tremor of fear, the pull of the life you'd left behind. The weight of your decision pressed down on your chest. But you stood your ground, chin raised despite the quivering of your limbs.
Finally, she exhaled sharply, the edge of her voice softening slightly though her tone remained severe. "You are defiant, just as your father warned. This choice... it will not be easy. You will pay a price. If you falter, there will be consequences. We will not forget what you have done."
You nodded slowly, fists still glowing faintly, and met her gaze unwaveringly. "...I understand. And I am ready. Here... with them."
Johnny hovered close behind you, flames flickering low in a protective halo, his hand brushing yours ever so slightly. He didn't speak, but the quiet squeeze of reassurance sent a pulse of warmth through your chest.
Ben stayed nearby, arms folded, alert but letting you hold your own against your parents. Sue floated silently, watching every subtle movement, prepared to shield if needed.
Your parents exchanged a long, measured glance, energy humming faintly around them like coiled tension. You felt the sting of fear and the weight of responsibility settle fully on your shoulders—but now, you also felt resolve. This was your choice. Your life.
And for the first time, despite the power and authority of your parents, you felt ready to defend it.
With one last look of disappointment, your parents wordlessly turned, their expressions unreadable but sharp with authority. Energy crackled faintly around them as they ascended, their forms shrinking against the night sky until they disappeared into the shimmering hull of the awaiting ship. Behind them, the remaining soldiers and smaller craft hesitated for a moment, then fell in line, retreating silently into the darkness.
The plaza was left in an eerie quiet. Smoke drifted from scorched pavement, small fires smoldered in the wreckage of energy blasts, and the faint hum of residual energy lingered in the air.
You slumped to your knees, the exhaustion of battle weighing on you. Your chest heaved as adrenaline faded, leaving the raw ache in its place. Johnny hovered beside you, flames now low and flickering like a protective aura. "You okay?" he asked softly, not needing an answer—the way you shook slightly and pressed your palms to your back said it all.
Ben crouched nearby, his large hands gentle as he helped you steady yourself. "You fought well," he said quietly. "Better than most heroes could. You held your own."
Sue floated just above, arms crossed, eyes sweeping the plaza to ensure no hidden threats remained. "They're gone," she said. "The city is safe—for now. And you... you're safe too."
You nodded, energy flickering faintly along your hands as if testing your own limits after the strike. "I... I did not know... if I could..." you admitted, voice shaking.
Johnny brushed a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering a fraction longer than necessary. "Hey, you're still here. That's what matters."
_______
The public's opinion was divided. Some feared you, whispering about the destruction and wondering if your presence had brought the threat to Earth in the first place. Others marveled at your courage, praising your restraint and the way you had protected civilians. Children drew pictures of you soaring above the skyline, energy trailing like ribbons behind your hands, while adults debated your intentions in hushed voices over coffee or on social media.
Morning drills in the Baxter Building began to feel routine. You and Johnny sparred on the rooftop, flames and energy beams crisscrossing as you laughed through minor mistakes. He grinned every time you caught him off guard with a well-timed blast.
"You're getting better," he said one afternoon, tossing a ball of fire gently toward you. "Almost as fast as me."
You tilted your head, eyes narrowing in concentration. "Almost? I will surpass you eventually."
Johnny laughed, shaking his head. "We'll see about that, princess."
Ben was just as patient. The two of you spent long afternoons in the kitchen, chopping, stirring, and tasting everything from pancakes to elaborate stews. "Careful!" he barked, laughing when a spoonful of batter splashed across the counter. "Cooking is about patience and precision, not just smashing things together."
"I... try to learn," you said earnestly, picking up the spoon and continuing. Batter clung to your fingers, and you licked it clean before anyone could react. Ben groaned, shaking his head, but there was a fondness in his gaze.
Sue guided you through missions with quiet authority, teaching you strategy, observation, and how to protect civilians without overexerting yourself. She never underestimated you, but she never pushed too hard either, letting you grow at your own pace.
Evenings brought quieter moments. Sometimes, you found yourself on the rooftop, gazing at the city lights with Johnny. Occasionally, your hands brushed, and a blush would rise to your cheeks while he smirked knowingly. Other times, you simply leaned against the railing, letting the wind carry your hair and the city's sounds wrap around you.
"I... I miss them," you admitted one night softly, eyes on the horizon, remembering your parents and the world you had left behind.
Johnny's expression softened, flames low around his wrists. "Of course you do. You're giving up a lot. But..." He nudged your shoulder gently. "...you chose this. And you made the right call."
You tilted your head, unsure of what "right" meant in this strange, complicated world. "I... I am happy. I am... content. I know I made my choice. Even if... they may never understand, I am where I belong."
The city stretched endlessly beneath you, alive and chaotic, but no longer frightening. You were part of it now. You belonged.
And for the first time, you smiled without hesitation—because this was your life, and you were ready for every challenge it would bring.
burned out — johnny storm x fem!reader
Johnny is experiencing what every adult has probably gone through in their lives… he’s burning out. In his mission to fix this, he finds you.
warnings: burn-outs, mostly fluff, not 1960s themed in my head, reader owns a cafe trope, no use of y/n
masterlist
Johnny’s never experienced this before.
As smoke expands and the temperature gets warmer from the burning building, Reed shouts instructions over the comms. Sue’s forcefields preventing debris from falling. Ben pulling trapped civillians from the building, and Johnny— Johnny can’t flame on.
He stands just behind Reed, fists clenching and unclenching, jaw tight as he desperately tries to fly in there and absorb the fire, but he can’t. There’s a flicker of heat across his skin, but then nothing.
Something’s not right.
“Johnny, focus!” Reed calls, too busy to notice the panic twisting Johnny’s face. “We need to contain the fire, now!”
“I’m trying!” His voice cracks sharper than he intends. He throws his arm out, willing the fire to catch, to spark, to roar to life. But it only flickers again, like a match dying in the wind.
Ben glances up from the rubble. “C’mon, Matchstick, any day now.” It’s meant as a joke, but even Ben’s brow furrows when he sees Johnny’s pale face.
Sue cuts in quickly, her voice steady but soft. “Reed, I’ll expand the field—Johnny, just… stay back.”
It’s those last two words that gut him. Stay back.
In the end, Sue traps the fire until it dies down and the smoke clears. Reed gives Johnny a reassuring pat on the shoulder, muttering something about stress and overexertion. Ben doesn’t tease. And Sue’s smile is tight, worried for her little brother.
For the first time, he feels like a ghost among them.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Back in the Baxter building, Reed wastes no time running tests on Johnny. Everyone is surrounding him, worried that something might be wrong, but all of Reed’s tests indicate that his physique is perfectly normal.
“What do you mean?” Johnny asks even though he has a sense of what Reed is saying.
Reed sighs. “It means, if something is wrong, it’s not physical. It might be your mental state.”
Johnny’s eyes widen, “Are you saying I’m going crazy?”
“You just need some rest,” Reed insists.
“It happens, Johnny,” Sue says. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”
Ben folds his arms. “Yeah, maybe you should take a breather before you go up in smoke for good.”
Johnny sits quietly, slumped in the lab. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t joke. Doesn’t do anything but stare at his useless hands, palms open because they should be on fire.
Because if he can’t flame on, then he’s not the Human Torch. And if he’s not the Human Torch… then who the hell is he?
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Johnny stares at himself in the mirror.
He’s wearing his blue jacket, a fitted white tee, jeans, a cap, and sunglasses to hide his identity. He looks like some washed-up pop star trying not to get recognized after a scandal. But Reed insisted he take a break, and Sue ushered him to get out of the house normally like Ben does, so he’s trying. Because he can’t stay cooped up in his room forever, and because seeing his family with their powers working normally, treating him like he’s made of glass, is worse.
H.E.R.B.I.E approaches him as he struggles to leave the building, and with one last glance at the robot and a deep breath, he braves himself to go out there and… blend in.
The goal, Sue said, is to find something he likes. Something new. He argued that he liked flying, space, fire—but that clearly isn’t working. So now he has to find something else. Something that’s not related to work. Something like—
Coffee. Johnny stops in his tracks, spotting a quaint coffee shop in the corner, empty enough for him to not be recognized. He doesn’t even like coffee. He thinks the taste is bitter, and God knows he doesn’t need caffeine, but something about this cafe pulls him in. The thought of slipping inside and away from the city too tempting.
Before he can second-guess himself, he takes his sunglasses off and goes in.
The place is almost empty, there are only a few older gentlemen in the corner, a mom and her kid sitting in the couch area, and then there’s you, the barista, whose eyes light up when the bell over the door jingles. You brighten at the sight of a new customer.
“Good morning,” You greet Johnny with a smile, “What can I get you today?”
Johnny glances between you and the menu, “Um… I don’t… normally drink coffee, this is kind of new to me…”
“That’s okay, I’m happy to help out,” You beam, “Do you want to go classic with an Americano, or something sweet with caramel and milk?”
“Definitely something sweet,” Johnny answers immediately.
“Great, one caramel latte it is,” You write his order on a cup, “That’ll be $4.25, and I’ll have your drink ready soon.”
“Thanks.” Johnny hands over the cash and smiles politely before sitting by the bar area, a clear view of you making his drink.
He wonders if the cafe is yours, or if maybe you’ve worked here forever. The way you move behind the counter, knowing exactly what to do, fascinates him. You make it look effortless. Effortless in a way he hasn’t felt in weeks.
It doesn’t help that you’re gorgeous. And for once, Johnny doesn’t feel like flirting. He just… watches, unable to take his eyes off you.
“Hey kiddo!” One of the elderly men, Jack, tries to get your attention, “Two more espressos for me and Robby. And a slice of that lemon cheesecake in his bill. I’m about to checkmate his ass.”
Robby only grumbles without looking up from the chessboard.
You laugh under your breath and nod. “Coming right up.”
Johnny watches the exchange, oddly charmed by the warmth of it, before the flicker of a TV mounted in the corner pulls his attention; JOHNNY STORM: FLAME OFF?
“Folks it’s no secret that the Human Torch has been struggling with his powers lately. We saw him last week unable to extinguish fires from a burning home, when usually it would be a piece of cake. What has happened to the Storm brother? Is he losing his powers—”
Johnny groans under his breath and drags his cap lower over his face. He can practically feel his stomach sink, until a glass is set gently in front of him.
“Hope you like it,” You smile, “And let me know if you’d like some more caramel.”
Johnny straightens at once, caught off guard by the brightness in your voice. He looks at the drink; a tall glass of latte, crowned with whipped cream and caramel drizzle. For the first time all week, his chest eases just a little.
He takes a sip of the latte, and blinks in surprise. It’s smooth, rich, and sweet, completely different from how Ben makes his coffee. He’s only tried it once, but he was so horrified by it he doesn’t dare touch it again.
When he glances back up, you’re watching him with that hopeful look in your eyes.
“So, is it to your liking?” You ask.
“Best coffee I’ve ever had.” Johnny says honestly. And when your smile widens, bright enough to make the room feel warmer, he swears his heart skips a beat.
“Well I’m glad you like it.” You smile bashfully and move to prepare the older men’s order, and Johnny stares after you longer than he should.
Johnny also doesn’t fail to notice that the TV is now miraculously off.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Johnny never thought he’d be the kind of guy who frequents a coffee shop. But somehow, here he is again. And again. And again.
At first, it was just curiosity. Then it became a distraction. Now, a week later, it’s a habit. Every morning, without fail, Johnny finds himself pushing open the glass door, the bell chiming as if announcing his arrival just for you, and you always beam at him from behind the counter. And every damn time, it makes something in his chest feel lighter.
“Morning,” Johnny greets first.
“Good morning,” You nod at him, “Caramel latte again today?”
He hums, “I’m thinking about changing it up. What do you think I’d like?”
You raise a brow, “Adventurous, are we?”
Johnny chuckles. “Sue says I need to try different stuff, so…”
You nod in understanding, “Well, how about I make you one as a surprise?”
Now it’s Johnny’s turn to raise a brow. “Alright, I look forward to it.”
Johnny sits by the bar as he usually does, his cap now sitting on the side, and nods his head at Lance and Marv, who nods back before resuming their chess. Johnny goes back to staring at you as you make his coffee.
He’s learned quite a lot about you in the week he’s been coming over. He now knows you own the cafe, and in the early mornings, it’s usually just the two elderly men, Jack and Robby, and sometimes the mom and her kid. It gets busier throughout the day, so Johnny always makes sure to leave before office break time starts, so that no one would see him.
He also knows how you like your coffee, though he has no idea how to make it. He knows you like cheesecake and loves making them. That you love pets but have yet to own one. And that you’ve been making coffee for over five years.
Johnny feels a smile tug on his lips as you bring him his coffee. It’s a shorter glass, with milk on the bottom and what looks to be frothy coffee on top.
“So what is your masterpiece this time?” Johnny asks, “Wait, do I stir the drink—I stir it, right?”
You chuckle, “Yes, Johnny, you stir it. It’s Dalgona coffee. It’s milk with whipped coffee. Kind of like a reversed latte.”
Johnny only nods, having no understanding of what you just said, but after stirring, he drinks it, and nods in acknowlegment.
“Yeah?” You question.
He hums, “Yeah. This is delicious.”
“Better than a caramel latte?”
Johnny hesitates, “…I’ll get back to you on that.”
You laugh again, and the sound makes his grin tug wider.
“You’re really good at this,” Johnny says after a while. “Was this always the dream? Running your own café?”
You shrug, nose scrunched, stuck between pride and nostalgia, “Not exactly. I wanted to be a singer once.”
“A singer?” Johnny’s eyebrow raises. “You sing?”
“…I used to.” You smile, “I’d sing in weddings, bars, any gig I could find. But it just didn’t happen for me. And so I went for the next best thing. It’s not what I thought my life would look like, but… I don’t hate it.”
His jaw twitches. “You ever think it’ll come back? That feeling?”
You keep your gaze on him, a longing smile across your lips as the memories come flashing back in pieces. “It never really goes away.”
Johnny has a feeling you’re not just talking about yourself there.
“And you?” You ask, “You always wanted to be a superhero?”
“I just really wanted to be an astronaut. The hero stuff is pure chance… and well, now, a full-time job I’m struggling with.” He continues, voice low, almost ashamed, “Without the fire… I don’t know who I am. I mean, yeah, I’m still me, but… I guess I just realized I’m nothing without it. And if I can’t do it anymore, I don’t know if people even want me around.”
“What about the Johnny before the fire?” You ask, “What’s he like?”
“Pretty much the same,” Johnny sighs, staring at his hands, hoping that they’ll light up—but they don’t. “Loved space, loved adrenaline… I still do, it’s just that they’re reminding me of what I’ve—what I’m struggling with.”
You hum in acknowledgment, “I see where the whole ‘I need to find something new I like’ is coming from now.”
“Yeah,” Johnny chuckles.
“Well…” You ponder, “What have you tried?”
The corners of his lips frowns a bit while he shrugs, “Not much, just… running, swimming… tried reading but I hate it… and your coffee. Which is by far, my favorite thing.”
That earns him a genuine smile from you. You fidget with your fingers. “Wanna try making it?”
Johnny’s eyes widen, “Me? Make coffee?”
“It’s not that hard.” You shrug and you beckon him over to behind the counter, “come on.”
He hesitates, but also can’t hide the excitement in his eyes.
Johnny circles around the counter like he’s stepping into some sacred space. He watches you carefully as you pull out the portafilter, his brow furrowed like you’ve just handed him alien technology.
“Okay,” you say, gesturing to the machine, “step one: coffee grounds. Try not to spill them everywhere.”
“Step one: don’t screw up,” Johnny mutters under his breath, but his grin betrays him.
You guide his hand as he tamps the coffee down, and he glances sideways at you, unable to hide the blush creeping up to his cheeks when he feels your hand on his.
He then clears his throat to lighten the mood. “You know, I’ve flown a jet into orbit, but this feels way more high pressure.”
“Mm-hm, sure,” you tease. “Astronaut, superhero, and now—barista in training. Quite the résumé.”
He laughs, and the sound is freer than you’ve heard it in weeks. When the espresso finally drips into the cup, it’s uneven, watery, and Johnny beams like he’s just conquered Everest.
“Not bad, right?” he asks, holding it up proudly.
You wrinkle your nose. “Why don’t you taste it first?”
Johnny takes a sip of the espresso and immediately winces, both because he hates the taste and it is probably bad coffee. “Delicious! Best coffee I’ve ever had.” He says as the coffee burns his throat.
You burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet shop, and for a moment Johnny just watches you, unable to hide his grin.
When the sound fades, you catch him staring and suddenly feel your cheeks warm.
“What?” you ask softly.
He shrugs, setting the cup down. “Nothing. Just… feels good. Being here. With you.”
And you don’t know how to answer, not without giving yourself away, so instead you nudge the cup back toward him with a small smile.
“Congratulations, Johnny. You’ve officially made the worst coffee in the shop.”
His grin spreads wider, unbothered. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep practicing.”
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Johnny keeps coming back every day for lessons ever since then. It’s nothing serious, he’s only doing it for fun, and because he gets to spend time with you. And he doesn’t just learn how to make coffee, sometimes you teach him how to bake, particularly cheesecakes.
And now, heading off into the night, after 3 cheesecake attempts later, Johnny finally nails it.
“Johnny, this is it,” You say as you taste the cheesecake he made.
He chuckles with a roll of his eyes, “Yeah, sure,”
“No, really,” You cut a piece with your fork and feed him.
Johnny takes a bite of the cheesecake and a smile slowly spreads across his face. “That’s pretty damn good.”
“Right??” You grin, put the fork down, and give him a hug, “You did amazing! Good job, Johnny.”
You don’t realize you’re hugging him until he physically tenses, and you push yourself off him.
“Sorry, I didn’t—I got so excited I—” You lose your words, warmth creeps up your cheeks as you stammer and try to look anywhere else but at him.
Before you can retreat any further, Johnny reaches out and tugs you back into a proper hug. Warmth floods through you at the unexpected closeness, your cheek brushing against his collarbone. For a moment, neither of you move, just breathing in sync.
You tip your head back nervously, and that’s when you notice how close his face is to yours. His usual spark of mischief flickers there, but beneath it is something more vulnerable. The world seems to hold its breath as his gaze drops to your lips.
You don’t know who leans in first, but the kiss is soft, sweet, unhurried, and impossibly gentle. You can practically feel your heartbeat in your ears.
When you part, Johnny keeps his forehead pressed to yours, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Best damn cheesecake reward I’ve ever had.”
You laugh softly, flustered but unable to hide your own smile. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late,” he murmurs, pulling you close again.
Your arms raise to loop around his neck, when a sudden cry makes you both break apart, wondering where the noise is coming from.
More cries echo from outside, and your heart sinks, but Johnny’s instincts take over.
“Stay here,” he tells you quickly, already moving toward the door.
“Johnny—” You start, but he’s gone, pushing outside into the cool night air. You follow him to the sidewalk, just close enough to see the commotion: a man shouting for help beside a smoking car that’s clearly just been in a wreck, and the driver stuck in his seat. The hood hisses, sparks catching, a high chance of things going south quick.
For a beat, Johnny freezes. You see the hesitation, the memory of his failure. But then his jaw sets, and something shifts inside him.
“C’mon, c’mon…” he mutters, staring at his hands. And then fire bursts to life through his skin, rolling up his arms, dancing like it never left him.
Your chest swells with relief as Johnny rushes forward, searing through the metal that was trapping the man, and shields him with his body as he brings him to safety.
The man stares at him in shock, breathless. “T-thank you. Thank you so much.”
Johnny’s grin is small, a little shaky. “No problem.”
From where you stand, you can’t look away. Not from the fire blazing in his hands, not from the way his eyes shine brighter than his flames. He looks whole.
You stay on to the sidewalk, your hands gripping your apron as tight as a lifeline. Neighbors rush in, clapping Johnny on the back, thanking him. The man he saved can’t stop praising him, eyes wide with gratitude. Johnny just laughs it off, rubbing the back of his neck, but you can see him glowing. Not just because he got his powers back, but from the validation, the reminder that he still is a hero.
Before you can move closer, before you can even think of calling his name, the rest of the Fantastic Four swoops in. His family. They give him pats on the back, hugs that relieve him, and Johnny grins, glad that he’s back.
The paparazzis arrive next. It gets crowded too fast, and Johnny barely gets a chance to look around, to maybe find you in the crowd, before Sue’s hand lands on his arm. “We need to go, Johnny.”
Johnny hesitates, his eyes scanning the street—but the flashes are too blinding, and he has no choice but to leave.
You stand there long after they’re gone, his flames still burning in your memory, the warmth of his lips still fresh on yours. And you smile, maybe bitterly, because that might’ve been the last time you ever see him.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
It’s been four days.
You tell yourself you’re not counting. You’re happy for him—of course you are. The city needs the Human Torch, and now that his powers are back, Johnny has stepped into the spotlight again like he never left. He’s on every channel, every newspaper headline. You don’t even have to look for his name; it finds you on the mounted TV, or in the whispers of your customers.
And every time you see him grinning into the cameras, cracking jokes, flying through the sky… there’s this little pang in your chest you can’t quite brush off.
You’re wiping down a table when Robby finally breaks the silence.
“You’re awful quiet today,” he says, peering at you over the rim of his mug.
“Oh it’s just one of those days,” You sigh.
“No, no,” Jack chimes, “I know that look.”
He taps the morning paper with one finger. Johnny’s face blazing on the front page, hands lifted mid-flight. “You miss him.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, dropping your gaze. “Yeah… I think I like him more than I should. It’s stupid.”
“Kid, in all my years of knowing you,” Robby starts, “You are not one to talk down about yourself. You’re not stupid for liking him. Or missing him.”
You sigh, continue cleaning in hopes that it would distract you. “Everyone likes him.”
“Yeah, but you don’t see him going to all the other cafes in town every day,” Jack argues, “He comes back to your cafe every day. Now what does that tell you?”
Your mind replays to the night you kissed. To where he had his hands on your waist, his soft lips— You shake your head to snap out of it. You know they’re right. You’re just a little disappointed because you haven’t heard from him in days.
He’s busy, probably has a ton of work to do for all the time he’s missed. So you understand. You just—
Your head snaps up when you hear the jingle from the entrance of your cafe. You’ve done this a hundred times in the past four days, looked up too fast you might’ve given yourself whiplash, only to be disappointed when it’s not Johnny.
But this time… this time it’s a familiar head of blonde hair, a pair of blue eyes, and a nervous smile that shakes you to your core.
It’s Johnny.
“Hey,” he says softly, like it’s just the two of you in the whole café.
Your lips part, and you can only manage a; “Hey.”
Johnny takes a step towards you, hands behind his back. “I’m sorry I disappeared. Things got busy and I—”
You shake your head quickly. “Don’t apologize. I get it. You’re—” your eyes flick toward the TV mounted in the corner, his name splashed across the news ticker even now, “—you’re busy saving the world again.”
He smiles, reaching for your hand. “Yeah, but I missed this. I… I missed you.”
You laugh under your breath, the sound shaky. “Well, I’m always here, Johnny. Whenever you need me.”
Johnny’s thumb brushes over your knuckles, “You made me feel normal. Made me feel like I’m me again… even without the fire. With you, I don’t have to be that guy—” he motions to the TV, “—always on fire, always running around… I can just be Johnny. You accept me. All of me.”
You grasp his hand, eyes wide and hopeful, and Johnny is smiling because he misses that look so much. The way you look at him like he’s your world, and the way he mirrors that look perfectly.
“I kept hoping,” You admit, voice small, “Every time that bell rang, I wanted it to be you. I missed you too, Johnny.”
He leans just a little closer, his breath catching.
“Can I—” he starts, but doesn’t finish the question.
You answer it anyway by tilting forward, closing the space between you. His lips are warm, and then more sure when he feels you melt into it. His hand cups your jaw gently, while the other circles around your waist.
“Fucking finally…” You hear Jack mutter and you break the kiss, realizing that it’s not just the two of you in the cafe.
“Way to ruin the mood, guys.” Johnny says jokingly.
“Kids these days,” Robby laughs. “Get a room before this old man gets a heart attack.”
Johnny shakes his head and turns back to you, kissing your hand. “Will you go out with me?”
You laugh. “We’ve made out twice now, Johnny. You better take me out.”
He smiles, forehead touching yours, when suddenly the door behind him opens, pushing him forward.
“Whoops, sorry there, Sparkles.” Ben enters your cafe.
You cover your mouth at the nickname, trying not to laugh.
Johnny glances at you with a ‘how dare you’ look. “What are you doing here, Ben?”
“Oh, we just wanted to know where you’ve been running off too for the past weeks.” Sue’s familiar voice booms behind Ben.
“This is a nice place. Cozy.” Reed follows not long after.
You blink in surprise, your cafe suddenly livelier than it’s ever been. Your grip on Johnny’s arm tightens.
“Guys, you’re freaking her out, okay? One at a time, please.” Johnny says, almost hiding you behind him.
Sue pushes past him and goes to hug you. “I cannot thank you enough for being there for Johnny.”
“I—It’s nothing, really.” Your shaky hands try to hug her back. “He keeps me company.”
Sue lets you go momentarily. “I also heard that you make amazing cheesecake. I’d love to try some.”
Sue smiles knowingly as you stammer out options for the cheesecake flavors. Reed is already halfway lost in asking you about your espresso machine, Ben is making himself comfortable like he owns the place, and Robby and Jack are chuckling in the corner, entertained by the whole spectacle.
It’s loud, and overwhelming, and yet, Johnny always finds you. His hand lingers against yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles like a silent reassurance.
You glance up at him, the noise fading to the background as you smile at each other, knowing your lives would be very different from here on out.
Summary: The Fantastic Four thought they were done dealing with cosmic threats after the defeat of Galactus. That is, until you crash-landed in Gramercy Park. Except, you aren't a threat, and Johnny Storm might be head over heels in love with a woman who couldn't care less for his flirting...again.
Warnings: little steamy but nothing major, making out, so much god damn fluff, some angst, some adult themes mentioned, strangers to friends to lovers, Johnny is a massive flirt, star-crossed lovers, slow burn, bittersweet ending but there will be a sequel, SPOILERS! for The Fantastic Four: First Steps, MCU spoilers, female reader but no characteristics described, reader kind of has PTSD, maybe some incorrect stuff regarding the 60s and how it worked but it's a fantasy world, VERY lightly edited so apologies for any mistakes
Johnny Storm was barely paying attention to the conversation happening around the dining room table of the Baxter Building. Instead, he dug his hand even further into the Lucky Charms box, popping another handful of the cereal into his mouth.
Sue shot him a look across the table, half of the bits of cereal falling from the side of his mouth to the table. His only response was an incredulous look her way, which was met with an affectionate eye roll from his sister.
“He probably just got caught up with something,” Sue tried to calm Ben’s nerves, bouncing little Franklin in her arms as he babbled out nonsense of some kind. That was enough to bring a smile to Sue’s face, her lips pressing a kiss to the side of his little head. “You know how Reed is.”
“Ben’s got a point, though,” Johnny chimed in, as the giant rock hand of his friend swiped his cereal box from his hands. With a defeated sigh, he decided he wasn’t going to start a fight over it, turning his gaze back to his sister and nephew. “Last time he was late for Sunday dinner it’s because you were pregnant and he was having an existential crisis. As much as I enjoyed that crisis, I think we’ve dealt with enough in the last few months.”
He wasn’t wrong, and he knew it. They all knew it. A year later and the aftermath of Galactus and Shalla-Bal still hung in the air. The implications of intelligent, threatening life out there in the universe casting a shadow over every news broadcast across the globe.
“That’s exactly my point,” Ben high fived Johnny from across the table, turning his gaze to Sue as well. “If he’s this caught up with something to miss family dinner, that means he found something.”
“And we all know when your husband finds something, that spells trouble for the rest of us,” Johnny lit his hand on fire for added effect, lips pursed as he waved the burning flames around gently in the air. “For example…cosmic radiation.”
It was clear that Sue wanted to argue with the pair, but Johnny knew there was no arguing with them. Their point was made, and that smirk on his face creeped in as Sue sighed, rising to her feet with Franklin situated on her hip.
“Alright, fine. Let’s go see what he’s up to,”
The chorus of cheers shared between Ben and Johnny from behind was surely making Sue roll her eyes once again. Any moments that Johnny was given to bother his brother in law in the lab was a win in his book.
Following his sister into the elevator, Johnny snapped his fingers in Ben’s direction as they descended toward the lab floor.
“10 bucks says it’s another alien woman,”
Ben’s groan sounded through the elevator, bouncing off the walls. Short laughter from Sue mixed in with it, even as she shook her head in response.
“Johnny, just because the first one dumped you, doesn’t mean you can go chasing after any alien woman in existence,”
“She never dumped me, for your information. She heroically sacrificed herself to save me because of her deep, profound love for me,” the shove Ben gave Johnny’s shoulder pushed him into the wall of the elevator. All he could do was shoot the rock man a glare, following his family out of the elevator and onto the lab floor, but not before pretending to grab at little Franklin’s nose to make the baby laugh. “Plus, I think it’s about time little Franklin got an auntie. A cool one.”
None of them were prepared for the mess of a lab they were stepping into.
Papers scattered the entire floor, from the workstation to the chalkboards. Those chalkboards had a thousand equations scattered across them: some scribbled out, others circled over a hundred times. Poor Herbie was frantically moving throughout the room, trying and failing to pick up every piece of paper that he could and bring some form of organization to the room.
“Uh, Suze,” it was Ben’s voice that cut in first, the trio stood just outside the elevator doors in mild shock at the state of the lab that was usually pristine. “I think your husband may have finally lost it.”
“That or he bought some drugs and tried them for the first time,” Johnny tacked on in a mumble that still got him an unimpressed look from his sister.
Johnny wasn’t wrong, though, and neither was Ben. Reed Richards looked like a certified mess.
He stood at the far end of the lab, moving between workstations at the deep blue tables lining the area in a half circle. He typed viciously, new data points mapped upon the screens adorning the walls. The middle screen, the largest, held a map to the entirety of New York City, markings appearing every so often in certain sections of the city before disappearing.
Even as the group approached, Reed never moved from his place, still typing away as he mumbled to himself.
“Reed,” Sue spoke up, just as her husband stalked across the floor once more.
The freshly written upon papers in his hands fell to the ground the second he laid eyes on them. Hair slightly disheveled, tie almost entirely undone, Reed Richards looked as if he had been rocked by a hurricane.
“Something is coming,”
Those were all the words he had to say. Johnny felt as if the air had been knocked from his lungs, as if all the oxygen in the room had been sucked straight out. He heard the sharp intake of breath from his sister first, before Ben stepped forward.
“Reed, what are you talking about?”
Ben quickly had multiple papers shoved into his hands as Reed gestured to the large screen showing the map of New York. One of the workstations beeped as the scientist quickly logged whatever data his system had just mapped out, another blip appearing on the screen that Reed pointed to desperately.
“For the last fifteen minutes, I’ve been tracking these energy signatures,” the map zoomed in on a focused location of the city. “They’re appearing at strange intervals. They started just a minute or two apart, but have grown to be just seconds apart now. All contained in an area between 24th and 17th street, in conjunction with Park Ave and 3rd Ave.”
“Gramercy Park?” Johnny chimed in, crossing his arms over his chest. He cocked his head slightly, looking at the map and the park that lay directly between the streets his brother-in-law had just named off. Honestly, he was still trying to understand what it was he was looking at, or just understand Reed’s mental state as a whole. “Maybe your baby proofing didn’t work and the Wizard is just out of prison.”
“That was my first thought as well, but the energy signatures proved me incorrect,” Johnny only rolled his eyes, running a hand down his face at Reed’s inability to take a joke. “These energy signatures are different, even more so than those of the Herald. It’s a culmination of dimensional energy–energy that’s being pulled from the fabric of the universe itself–it matches with energies given off by planets, or even stars themselves. But there’s another component to it, something so inherently not scientifically explainable that I can’t understand.”
Johnny shared a look with his sister and Ben, and even a look with confused little Franklin, before Sue chimed in.
“Okay, so there’s some weird space energy in the area-”
“Energy that has organic life woven into it,” Reed emphasized for those standing in front of him. He crossed the room back to his desk, pulling up a clear imaging of the energy itself from a nearby street camera that happened to catch the pulse. It was like a burst of blue strands, interwoven, pulsing and dousing the surrounding area in color, before it blinked away. “This energy beats, like a heartbeat. It moves organically, as if being pushed and pulled by someone. Compare these scans with a simple energy scan of any one of us, anyone in New York for that matter, and the fundamentals match perfectly. This isn’t some cosmic energy seeping into our earth for a moment, there’s something attached to it, something causing it. It’s forewarning something–someone.”
The lab grew quiet, the weight of Reed’s words hung in the air. For Johnny, they hung a little harder.
The last time something–someone–showed up on this Earth, he’d almost lost his family, lost his nephew. He had lost his sister, even for just a brief moment, but that was enough. Enough to never want to be put through this again. Johnny’s jaw clenched at the memory, his gaze flickering back to the screens.
“Why’s the park empty?” he questioned, gesturing to the live feed of the park from security cameras placed around light poles. “It’s not even 8 at night.”
“Suspicious activity in the area over the last week. I spoke to the mayor and had a curfew put in place out of an abundance of caution,” Sue chimed in.
“Okay, so another space alien is coming,” Ben clapped his hands together, the sound echoing as it drew everyone’s attention to him. “We threw the devourer of worlds through a portal to deep space…let’s just do that again.”
“This isn’t Galactus,” Reed muttered, voice just loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room as he turned back to the screens before him. “This is something else.”
Before anyone else could speak again, another pulsation of blue energy directly in the center of the park this time. Bigger than the others, strands of energy moving and beating in the air. Growing brighter, bathing the park in light.
The power of the building flickered for half a second before the live feed into the park cut off suddenly. Reed tapped incessantly, trying to bring it back, but it was no use.
“Reed…what is that?”
On the main screen, right in the center of the park on the New York City map, was one single blip of energy. Unlike the other blips, this one didn’t leave. It held steady.
“Johnny-” his name had barely left Reed’s mouth before Johnny was at the windows of the lab, swinging them open before streaking through the air in a blaze of red and orange.
No one was threatening his family again.
Gramercy Park wasn’t far away from the Baxter Building, especially not for a man who could light himself on fire and streak through the air at speeds humans couldn’t comprehend.
The park and every surrounding street was quiet the second his feet touched down on the pavement, flames dissipating from his body with a single thought.
The trees rustled above him in the night time breeze, stray leaves breaking off of the branches and falling to the ground. In the distance Johnny could faintly hear the usual sound of New York traffic, the muffled sound of sirens streets and streets away.
Straight ahead of him, down the path, laid the circle of greenery and flowers planted around the statue that sat in the middle of the park.
When he approached the center of the park apprehensively, flaming fist at his side ready to attack, the last thing he expected to see was you.
Pacing back and forth until the point he was sure you’d burn lines into the ground under your feet, you were glancing up at the sky over and over, muttering something to yourself. He cocked his head as he creeped closer, taking in the clothes that adorned your body: a pain of jeans adorned with so many tears and holes he couldn’t comprehend why you were still wearing them, and a tight fitting shirt that plunged way too far down your sternum to be considered decent to wear…anywhere. He wasn’t sure he’d even seen a woman wearing a shirt quite that revealing before.
His foot hit a single branch littering the pavement, ten feet from you now, before you froze and spun on your heels to face him. Johnny was pretty sure every bit of oxygen in the air was ripped away the second his eyes locked with yours.
Well, fuck, you are the prettiest fucking woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
It was the only thought capable of filtering through Johnny’s head. Reed must have gotten something wrong in his data, been tracking something that didn’t really exist, because there was no way that you were the blip that had appeared on the map. You were just another New Yorker–a drop dead gorgeous one, at that–who was out past the mandatory curfew…even if the clothing you bore threw him for a loop.
You didn’t look scared of him, his hand still burning with flames at his side. He could see the way your eyes drifted to the fire, head almost tilting in curiosity, before you glanced back at his face. Your hands were held out at your sides, fingers flexing as if you were prepared to defend yourself if the need arose.
Johnny wasn’t going to hurt you. You were a civilian, one who should be in her home during this curfew. Just another normal civilian that he would definitely be coming back to this area for the following day so he could figure out where you worked, or which cafe you visited most often so he could orchestrate a way to run into you again-
His watch beeped, that familiar alert sound. Johnny’s eyes tore themselves away from you for just a second to glance down: an energy reading, matching the same one from Reed’s lab, pointed directly at you.
Way to go, Johnny. Get the hots for yet another alien woman that’s probably here to destroy your world and kill your family. Nice job. Way to go. Ben totally isn’t going to make fun of you for this.
“I’m not usually one for telling strong, pretty women what to do,” Johnny quipped, flames igniting on his other hands, both now burning bright at his sides. “But you’re out after curfew.”
“Curfew?” you had practically barked out a laugh, and fuck Johnny hated the fact that even your voice was pretty. Even as it was dripping in disbelief. “Yeah, right. I haven’t seen a single curfew ever go into effect in this city through the multiple alien incursions it’s seen.”
Johnny cocked his head immediately: multiple alien incursions? Given that Shalla-Bal was the only alien he’d watched descend into Times Square, he was utterly confused.
“Makes sense–given that you’re another one of those alien incursions–that you don’t know about the curfew,” flames burning just a tad bit brighter, crawling up his forearms, Johnny raised his hands in your direction as he took a cautious step forward. “I’d prefer not to hurt you, doll, so why don’t we do this peacefully and you just come with me?”
It happened in the blink of an eye. Johnny’s eyes never left you as your head tilted just slightly, a flash of blue crossing your eyes as your fingers twitched at your sides, before suddenly his arms were enveloped.
Like a casing of blue tinted energy, pulsing around his hands and up his forearms, the flames that ignited Johnny’s skin were extinguished in moments. Blue eyes shooting wide open, he shook his hands frantically. Willing himself in his head, telling his flames to ignite, but they wouldn’t. Every wave of his arms did nothing, the blue energy unmoving and shifting with him.
“No use trying, pretty boy. There’s not a single ounce of oxygen in the air around your arms right now, so I suggest you keep the flames at bay because I’d prefer not to do that to your entire body,” you shot back at him. With a single wave of your hand, the casing of energy dropped from around his arms. Johnny let the fires reignite for just a moment, confirming that he could indeed use his power again, before his wide eyes shot back to you.
“...I’m going to be so honest, I can’t tell if I’m terrified or completely turned on right now,”
“I’m, also, not an alien. I grew up upstate. And, why does Gramercy Park look so…weird?” Johnny’s comment was ignored, even though it was a valid question that he was trying to work out in his head. He instead watched you spin around on your heels, pointing around the park and up toward the surrounding buildings. “I know I haven’t left the Sanctum in a few days, but I feel like I would’ve heard construction. That building was never white, that one–wait, how did they build an above ground subway system? That wasn’t there three days ago when I got in, and I know for a fact the city doesn’t have the budget for this.”
In all of his life, Johnny Storm had never been more confused. He’d sat through countless lectures from Reed about matters of organic chemistry that he didn’t understand in the slightest, or cooking lessons from Ben that ended in him shoving his hand deep into a box of cereal, and this was more confusing then all of those combined.
Your clothing, something just about the way you talked and looked, whatever the hell this blue energy was it looked like you were controlling–and what the hell was a Sanctum?
“Back up…the Sanctum?” Johnny chose to start there as you turned back to him. He chose to keep his flames at bay, having a gut feeling that if you really did want to cut off the oxygen around him you could, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that. “Isn’t that, like, some type of Church thing? Are you from some weird alien cult?”
“I literally just told you I wasn’t an alien. The Sanctum Sanctorum, over on Bleeker street? You know…Wong, Stephen Strange, the Masters of the Mystic Arts?” you must have seen the confusion on his face grow, because Johnny could see the moment your back seemed to straighten. “Wait, you have no clue who they are? Actually–beyond that–you have powers. How do I not know who you are?”
“Great question, sweetheart. The Fantastic Four kind of just saved the world a year ago, so I’m about as lost as you are,”
Johnny wanted to be apprehensive, wanted not to trust a word you were saying. He wanted to be cautious, to put his walls up, because the last time someone had come down into his world like this, he’d almost lost everything.
But you weren’t Shalla-Bal. You weren’t standing on a silver surfboard, speaking with confidence and heralding the end of the world.
No, when Johnny looked at you now, he saw pieces of himself. Of little him, hugging Sue, losing their mother forever. Of the version of him that came back to Earth over four years ago forever changed: confused and scared. The version of him that locked himself away in Building Q, charring the sheets and everything around him as he cried, trying to understand what was happening.
“I meant what I said, by the way,” Johnny cut in, that usual charm infiltrating his words. You were still the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, and he was curious, more curious then he was the moment a woman coated in silver appeared in the air. You had his full attention, even if he was still trying to figure out who the hell you were, but he hoped showing off his charm would ease the tensions a bit. “You’re a very pretty woman…and I might be turned on right now, the jury is definitely still out on that one. Took my breath away when I first saw you, and you could literally do that if you wanted to. That’s hot.”
He watched as you huffed out the semblance of a laugh, still teetering back and forth on if he was a danger to you. Given the fact that you had demonstrated your ability to cut off his oxygen…he was hoping you wouldn’t see him as a threat anymore.
“Ah, a charmer, aren’t you? Knew someone like that, been awhile since I’ve seen someone so brazenly flirt with a woman,”
“Oh darling, that’s my whole brand,”
You hummed across from him, but he caught your body language. Slightly more at ease, not as rigid anymore.
“The Fantastic Four?” your eyebrow shot up, eyes still wide with confusion, but slightly less apprehensive than before, as you brought the conversation back to that name he’d dropped. “Bit of a pretentious name to give yourselves.”
“That was all the fans,” Johnny shot back with a hint of a grin. A ghost of a smile seemed to find your mouth as well, and Johnny mentally cheered to himself that it seemed he was able to convince you he wasn’t a threat to your life.
“Fair enough. The Avengers was chosen for us…I feel like I would’ve heard about another new superhero team being formed in our absence, though,”
Johnny’s confusion was back again as he mulled over your words.
“Avengers? What are they, some superpowered band?”
It was your turn to mull over his words.
“You…you don’t know who the Avengers are?”
There was a whirl through the air as Johnny watched you glance behind him. He turned too, eyes landing on the familiar blue of the Fantasti-Car landing behind him on the pavement, Sue, Reed and Ben stepping out just moments later, practically running down the pavement toward him.
“Johnny-!”
“No, no, wait!” he called out frantically, glancing back at you again. Your hands were rigid at your sides again, fingers flexing, eyes narrowed in a terrified glare in their direction. He glanced back at his family, holding out a hand for them to stop just behind him. “She’s not a threat, I swear!”
Ben’s thunderous steps came to a halt, his head thrown back to the sky as he let out the loudest sigh in the world. “Johnny, seriously, you can’t keep falling for every alien woman you meet-”
Johnny didn’t let him finish, spinning back around to face you. His eyes pleaded with you, hoping you would see his hesitance to hurt you, feet shuffling forward a few steps. You took one back for each step he made forward, that same blue energy dancing around your hands once again.
“I really don’t want to hurt you,” you spoke, voice steady and loud enough to carry through the air. Your eyes glanced past Johnny, to his family. “Any of you. It’s not who I am, that’s not what I do. But if I have to, I will.”
“We won’t,” Johnny promised, taking a glance back at his family. Ben seemed unsure, Reed apprehensive, but Sue watched him. Curious, unsure of what he might do next. He glanced back at you. “I won’t. We’re just as confused as you are right now.”
You laughed. “I really doubt that.”
Reed brought a device out from his pocket, that same alert that came from Johnny’s watch ringing through the air as he pointed it in your direction.
“It’s coming from her,” Reed announced. Johnny tried desperately not to roll his eyes and make a comment of ‘obviously’ toward his brother-in-law. “These readings are coming from her. I was right: she’s controlling this dimensional energy, bending it to her will.”
Johnny hung his head with a sigh, still mulling over making a comment as he turned his gaze back to you. It was apologetic, accented with an eyeroll, one that brought a hint of a smirk back to your face. It worked, though, as you dropped your hands, body relaxing once more as Johnny confirmed for you once again that they didn’t want to hurt you.
With a single flick of your wrist, the device in Reed’s hands was enveloped in that same energy, wrapping around it and carrying it over to your hands before their very eyes. Johnny froze, along with the three directly behind him, as they watched it happen.
“Not energy–well, not technically–it’s magic,” you explained, never taking your eyes off the device in your hands as you fiddled with the controls. “This thing is…so strange. It looks like such a primitive piece of tech but functions so modernly. Did you get this from Stark Industries? Is this some old prototype of Tony’s that Pepper sold you?”
“I designed it,” Reed answered after a moment. You hummed, flicking your hand again as the device made its way through the air and back to Reed’s hands. “Stark Industries, are they a foreign company? Do you work for them?”
Johnny watched that confusion bubble up in your features again, tinged with nerves now. He caught it, the way your leg began to shake as the pacing you’d been doing when he first showed up resumed once again. All he could do was watch.
“T-This doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never heard of you guys, everything about New York looks different, you don’t know the Avengers, hell you don’t even know who Tony is!” you laughed, incredulously this time, as your eyes locked with Johnny’s again. “This has to be a joke, right? A-Are one of you Wong in disguise, trying to teach me a lesson for opening a book to perform a spell that I wasn’t supposed to touch-”
You stopped in the middle of your sentence.
Johnny took another step forward the second you cut your own words off with a gasp. Hand flying up to cover your mouth, your wide eyes never left him as he took a cautious step forward.
“We just want to help you. What are you talking about? Help us understand,”
“The Book of Vishanti,” you said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, like the four standing in front of you were supposed to understand it. “Wong thought I was ready for powerful light magic, h-he invited me so that he could show it to me, so that I could learn from it. I should’ve listened to him, I shouldn’t have snuck down there-”
Sue stepped up to Johnny’s side. He watched his sister, the easy look on her face, the understanding in her eyes, as she spoke softly to you.
“What happened before you showed up in this park?”
“I touched the book without him, I thought I could teach myself things without him,” you spoke quickly, shaking your head frantically. “I could barely read the spell and yet I performed it anyway. Either I fucked it up, or I did it right and I didn’t know what I was doing because…this isn’t my earth. It can’t be, not with all the differences.”
Reed and Ben joined either side of Johnny and Sue now, all four of them staring down at you in front of them as you came to a realization of what had truly happened.
Through it all, Johnny just couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Curiosity pulled at him, more than it ever had before.
“What are you saying?” Reed chimed in.
“I’m saying this isn’t my universe…I think I accidentally traveled the multiverse, and I have no idea how to get back,”
❤︎
Performing a spell from the Book of Vishanti that you couldn’t yet read was, in hindsight, probably the worst idea that you had ever had in your entire young adult life.
When the Sorcerer Supreme believes that you’re ready to handle a book such as that, lined with the most powerful magic and spells and knowledge of light magic that have ever existed…it’s not hard to get an ego about it and jump the gun. You could already hear the berating you’d get from Wong, the things that Steve would’ve said to you if he was still around, the things that Sam most definitely would say to you when you got back to Washington.
If you ever got home, that is.
It was a thought you tried not to dwell on. Every night, as you closed your eyes, you saw them. The ones still here, the ones taken from you even as you fought with every ounce of you to save them all. The final look in your best friend’s eyes before she destroyed the version of herself that she had become, destroying what felt like a piece of you in the process. All so you could wind up in a world without any of them, a universe so far away from your own, nursing what felt like a shattered heart as you tried to find a way home.
You cried enough every time your head hit the pillow of the bed that wasn’t yours, you wouldn’t let the tears find you during the day too.
To their credit, the Fantastic Four were the most welcoming and kind group of people you’d ever met. If a strange woman basically crash landed in your universe, claiming to be a witch, you too would probably have hesitated. But here you were, a week later, having taken up the space on the unused guest floor of the Baxter Building at the insistence of Susan Storm. Trapped in a universe so similar to your own, but so different.
You weren’t alive in the 60s of your Earth, but now you got the chance to experience it firsthand…with a twist. It was strange how retro and yet futuristic this Earth was. The technology was advanced, sometimes more advanced than anything you had seen in your own universe, and that was all thanks to Dr. Reed Richards. You had thought that Bruce Banner and his 7 PhDs was the smartest person you would ever meet, but Reed and his 18 Doctorate degrees blew him out of the water by miles. But beyond the advanced technology of the world, everything else was still so primitive.
The clothing was different, more modest and brightly colored than anything you were used to seeing before. The hairstyles were different, sometimes shorter, almost always poofier than they were in the 2020s. They talked differently, the music was different, everything felt so familiar and yet so wrong at the same time.
This little team, this family you had stumbled upon, had been nothing but helpful, even if they were still wrapping their minds around the idea of the multiverse. The protectors of their Earth, the only superheroes this universe had compared to the plethora yours seemed to have, but some of the most down to earth people you had ever met. Reed Richards was abrasive sometimes, but curious, asking a thousand questions when you would venture out of the guest floor about your magic and the scientific properties surrounding it and its composition. Ben Grimm was kind, giving you space, but always dropping off something to eat on the guest floor for you every day. Sue Storm was kind and bright, strolling in with confidence and her son, Franklin, perched on her hip, filling your closet with an array of clothing to wear so that you would be comfortable.
Johnny Storm followed you like a puppy dog, hanging off every word you spoke and popping up in every corner of the building you found yourself in, much like he was now.
“Find anything in there?”
You rolled your eyes, tossing the book borrowed from the city library onto the coffee table of the guest floor living room. It landed with a thud on the multiple other books that Sue had picked up for you before you glanced over your shoulder, seeing Johnny stalking toward the couch you were sitting upon from the elevator.
“Just more confirmation that witches don’t seem to exist in your universe, except in the fairy tales," you shot back with a sigh. Your gaze turned to the floor to ceiling windows adorning the wall before you, giving you a glimpse of the New York skyline as night crept in on it, the sun dipping below the horizon line in the distance. “Which leaves me with exactly what I started with: nothing.”
Johnny hummed, hands grasping the back of the couch from beside you as he too glanced out over the skyline. The record player in the corner played some Elvis tune, something to fill the silence.
“Can’t you just, like, do the spell again to get home?”
“If I knew what spell I did, probably,” came your answer as you glanced over to him, finding his blue eyes already watching you. “No clue what spell I did, so without that I have no means of traversing the multiverse.”
Your gaze watched him as he left the couch, stalking across the room toward the record player. Another eye roll left you as he plucked the Elvis record off the turntable in seconds, muttering something about how that record ‘wasn’t good enough,’ before combing the collection beside it for another one.
This wasn’t the first time he’d done this over the course of the week. It felt like Johnny Storm practically lived on this guest floor with you: he’d brought his dinner down every night to eat with you, lounged around the living room while you searched through book after book, and had gone through every bit of clothing his sister had procured for you and made comments about which ones he thought you’d look best in (spoiler alert: it was every single item).
You didn’t entirely mind. His presence felt like a soothing balm over the pain that still sat within you, his ability to joke and make anyone around him smile, able to slap a bandaid over what felt like a gunshot.
“What’s music like in the 2020s?” he called out from across the room, settling on a Bob Dylan record instead that he dropped the needle down onto. “Does everyone have giant record collections now, ones that would rival my own?”
“Music is…much different than what you’re used to now,” was the response you settled on, chuckling slightly as you tried to imagine the man across the room listening to the likes of Eminem or even Taylor Swift. Taking a sip of your drink settled on the table in front of you, you dug your now dead cell phone out of your pocket, waving it around. “We listen off our phones, can connect headphones to them wirelessly. Vinyl collections are usually just collections now, not typically used to play music.”
Your cell phone was plucked straight out of your hands by Johnny himself, who had crossed the room with impressive speed. With a chuckle, you shook your head at his antics, leaning your head against your hand as you watched him inspect the dead device.
“I should tell Reed to invent this thing. Have to use that big brain for something useful,”
“And somewhere in Chicago, I can hear Martin Cooper crying that his invention is about to be stolen,”
Johnny tossed your phone back onto the cushion next to you without another thought, plopping down right next to it. Head thrown back against the back of the couch, he turned to look at you again with a giddy grin.
“Ignore the little talking box device for now, can you show me more of your magic?”
That was the question Johnny had asked at least three times a day in the week you had been on his earth. It was cute, the way his eyes would light up with excitement like a little kid every single time you showed him something new. That sparkle in them, the grin that lit up his face every single time, as he’d beg you to show him again.
You tried not to focus too much on how cute it actually was.
“What haven’t I shown you at this point?” you laughed, smile bright, though you already knew the answer. There was a neverending stream of things you could show him.
“There has to be something,” he sat up a little straighter, leaning even more into your personal space now. “Come on, I have a witch sitting in front of me. I thought those only existed in movies and books. You can’t blame a guy for being interested, baby.”
Ignoring that pet name that so easily fell from Johnny’s lips, you took a quick glance around the room. Acting as the centerpiece of the table sat a fresh bouquet of wildflowers, curated by Sue herself and brought up as a gift. Leaning forward, you plucked a single daisy from the bunch, leaning back and holding it in the space between you and Johnny.
Your eyes never stopped watching him as that familiar swirl of blue magic seeped from you, enveloping the delicate flower. The thin, white petals merged together into five beautiful petals, the white coloring fading into an enchanting ombre of orange and pink. Then, as fast as it started, your magic dissipated and the blue hue that lit up Johnny’s face disappeared.
He took the new flower from you with the brightest of grins, a sight that stirred something deep within your chest you were keen to ignore. He took a single sniff, eyes glancing back to you as his smile slipped into a charming little smirk.
“What did that poor daisy ever do to you?”
“It wasn’t a Plumeria,” you shot back with a slight laugh, plucking the flower from his hand and slipping it back into the vase. “They’re my favorite flower.”
“Noted,” he casually stretched his arm over the back of the couch, resting it over the portion directly behind your head, as that charming smirk grew even more. “Want them incorporated into the wedding decor, or should I pin one to my suit jacket so you can see it while we stand together at the altar?”
With a bright laugh, your hand met his face, pushing him back slightly as you rose from the couch, sauntering over into the kitchen with your empty glass. You could feel his eyes on you with every step.
“I have to hand it to you, Johnny, your flirting this past week has definitely gotten more brazen with each passing hour. Be careful, you might fall in love,”
“Too late, that happened when you first turned around,” shooting a glance back at him on the couch, he dramatically flopped backward on the cushions, pretending an arrow had just struck him in the chest. It was impossible not to shake your head and laugh at the sight. “I took one look at you and thought…wow, that’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”
You hummed in response, pouring yourself another glass.
“Does your charm and your flattery typically get you places with the ladies?”
“Depends, is it working right now?”
Ben had warned you about Johnny’s charming personality and what would surely be incessant attempts at flirting, but you hadn’t thought the man would be as persistent as he had been this past week.
You’d taken to keeping a running list in your head of some of your favorite lines of Johnny’s that he’d thrown your way.
Are love spells a thing? You could put one on me and I wouldn’t even notice: I’m already too far gone for you, baby.
Do you think you fell into our universe because you and I were made to find each other?
Before you head back to your universe eventually, we should send you back with the last name Storm. I think it fits you nicely.
Each one had made you laugh, and you begrudgingly had to admit that most of them were quite cute. It helped that Johnny Storm was as charming as they came.
From the moment you had laid eyes on him in that park that night you’d known it. This man was a heartbreaker, a face that girls across the world surely had hanging on their bedroom walls and were fawning over. Magazines called him a playboy, his personal fan club, The Flaming Hearts, swooned at his feet over how he was the ideal man women should strive for. You saw why they fawned: Johnny was attractive, anyone with eyes could see it. Perfectly swept to the side blonde hair, blue eyes that felt deeper than the ocean, and the charm and wit to have you laughing into the night.
He could flirt all he wanted, but it was going to take more than a flirty comment and a pretty smile to make you feel a thing. Johnny Storm wasn’t the first charming man you’d ever encountered, and he surely wouldn’t be the last.
“Sorry, pretty boy,” you shook your head, finishing off your glass that you’d just poured before dumping it into the sink for later. “Takes a little more than superficial flattery to butter me up.”
“I’m pretty sure you just called me pretty, that has to count for something,”
“It doesn’t,” you shot back, leaning against the island counter as you looked across the room toward him. Johnny was rolling off the couch in the most unelegant way, hopping back up to his feet to lean against the other side of the counter from you, shooting you a wink.
“You know what they say–denial is the first step to falling in love,”
“Acceptance. The quote ends in acceptance,” you barked out another laugh, shaking your head as the man as you stood up straighter. “Now, what did you actually come up here for, or was it just to bother me?”
Johnny clapped, eyes going wide as he seemed to remember exactly why he’d come upstairs in the first place.
“Right! It’s Sunday, family dinner night. You’re invited, and I was volun-told to come and get you,”
“Of course, because I’m sure you really protested being given that job,”
As charming as ever, he shot you another wink as he banged his hands on the table.
“You already know me so well, darling,”
“Are the pet names necessary?”
“Why, are they making you swoon?” yet another wink was shot at you.
“Johnny, I’m sure your charm works on just about every other woman in this universe. You want me to swoon? It’s going to take a lot more than that,” you pointed toward the shirt on his body, the bright blue logo over his chest shining in the light. “Plus, wearing your own team merch all the time? How superficial of you.”
He feigned hurt over your comment, looking down at the logo himself.
“I’m just representing the team. Plus, it’s comfortable, like our suits are too,” Johnny instantly snapped his fingers, eyes wide again as he giddily smiled toward you across the counter. “Your suit! You’ve never shown me your superhero suit! Come on, I’m dying with anticipation here, baby.”
Even as you rolled your eyes, you indulged his request. With a single flick of your wrist, your clothing shimmered in blue tendrils of magics, transforming it into the suit you knew like it was a second skin. Reinforced black and blue fabric that trailed high up your neck and down to your wrists, down your waist and finally tucked into the black boots that sat directly below your knees. That shimmering silver “A” still sat on your belt, something you were never able to part with.
Johnny let out a low whistle, teeth biting into his bottom lip as his eyes scanned you up and down over and over again.
“Hot damn…remember that comment I made about being turned on? Yeah, yeah this is doing it for me,”
With yet another eye roll, something you were learning you did quite frequently around him, you waved off the magic and dissipated the suit once again. The look you shot at him was anything but impressed, even if you were trying to hold back laughter.
“Why are you like this?”
Before some other flirty comment could fall from his lips, the elevator dinged across the room, its large doors sliding open. Neither of you were expecting it to be little Franklin Richards stumbling out on his tiny, wobbly legs.
Tufts of blonde hair on his head, blue eyes wide as could be, a happy little smile overtook his face as he spotted the two of you in the kitchen. His little hands clapped together, incoherent but otherwise happy babbles falling from his lips.
“Frankie! What has your mom told you about playing with the elevator, little guy?”
Johnny was across the room in seconds, sweeping Franklin into his arm with a single swipe. The laughter of little Franklin echoed through the room as Johnny dipped him, practically holding the little guy upside down, before spinning him upright. The little boy wearing a matching grin to his uncle, the man he could practically be a twin of, continued to laugh as Johnny pulled his shirt up, blowing a raspberry directly into his stomach and muttering something about how ‘magic babies never listen to their mothers.’
The skip your heart did at the sight was enough to have the beginnings of a flush crawling up your skin. Maybe his charm didn’t work on you, not his flirty jokes, but this? Seeing the side of Johnny Storm that the media didn’t see, the part that wasn’t the persona he played up for the world, was enough to bring a soft smile to your face and to fully understand why people across the world fell for him so easily.
Willing the blush to go away, desperate to hide the evidence that you did, in fact, find this man cute, you stalked across the room until you came to stand beside the man and his laughing nephew. They both turned to look at you, looking like twins with their bright smiles and blue eyes. Another round of giggles fell from Franklin as you swiped your finger over the edge of his nose slightly, pushing past them both toward the waiting elevator.
“Well, come on then. Guess I shouldn’t be late for my first family dinner with the Fantastic Four,”
In all honesty, you needed Johnny to put Franklin down. He looked too adorable, making faces at the little boy as he pressed the button for the main living area on the elevator. Franklin just continued to clap, babbling nonsense.
“You’re good with him,” you cut through the silence after a moment, smile still soft as you watched the two of them beside you in the confined space.
Johnny glanced up, an air of sheepishness finding him as he laughed lightly, looking back at Franklin. The little boy was watching you once again.
“Yeah, well, what can I say? Always loved kids,”
Bringing your hand up between the two of you, with a single thought you let a little ball of blue magic appear along your fingertips. Franklin’s eyes widened, following the movement of the little ball of magic as you rolled it around your fingertips, dancing it around his head and back to your hand.
Your eyes flickered to Johnny after a moment. His head rested against the wall of the elevator still slowly moving its way down. His smile was soft, softer than you’d seen it look at you before this week, his eyes holding a gentle pensiveness as they watched you.
“What?” you questioned lightly. He shrugged, adjusting Franklin on his hip.
“Nothing. You’re just good with him, too,”
“Well, he’s not the first baby in my life,” you answered, the edges of your smile dropping just a fraction as you thought about her. The little girl that was only, what, 6 years old now? Brown hair and eyes just like her father’s, the wit and sass to match it. Universes away from you, a little piece of someone you used to hold so dear that you may never see again.
“Whoever you’re thinking about,” Johnny was more observant than you gave him credit for, picking up immediately on the thoughts that seemed to plague your mind, even if he didn’t know the full extent of them. His fingers lightly grazed your cheek, an action that you so wished didn’t feel so nice. Comforting, warm with the heat that burned within him, brushing a strand piece of hair back behind your ear, tucking it there. You met his gaze, burning with a quiet determination. “You’ll see them again. We’ll get you home.”
Ignoring the slight flutter behind your ribcage, you raised an eyebrow at him.
“Oh, you’re suddenly content with letting me go? I remember Ben telling me yesterday that you were planning to keep me trapped here forever,”
His laughter echoed into the living room as the doors to the elevator pushed open, allowing the three of you to step out into the room fully. Ben was hard at work in the kitchen, calling out things to their little helper robot, Herbie, who zoomed around the kitchen at his command. Reed’s arm stretched out across the room, setting the table without ever leaving the kitchen, his other arm wrapped around his wife as Sue laughed at something he said.
“Oh I’ll help get you home, but there are conditions to your departure,” Johnny shot back, walking alongside you toward the dining room. “The one non-negotiable is that you have to leave unequivocally in love with me-”
“Whoa, that’s a big word for you, Johnny-”
“You also have to leave admitting that I’m the most charming man that you’ve ever met-” he cut back in, cutting you off after you had cut him off.
“I mean, you’re definitely on your way to joining the ranks of Tony, Quill, and Joaquin-”
“You also have to leave with the last name Storm,” Johnny spun, back facing the kitchen, as he shot you a wink. “We can negotiate that one. I don’t want to rush our wedding, but I’d prefer you go back home with it. A little something to remember me by.”
Sue Storm was quick to slap Johnny on the shoulder as he dipped into the kitchen, practically tossing the laughing baby into his sister’s arms, before ducking around her to dip his hand into the pot of sauce that Ben was working to season. His rocky hand whacked Johnny on the shoulder, who pretended to crumble to the ground in pain as Ben cried out “you haven’t even washed your hands!”. Reed’s arm stretched across the room, coming between the two and pushing his brother-in-law to the other side of the kitchen without a word, trying to maintain a semblance of peace.
Sue sighed, pressing a kiss to her son’s head, before she turned to you: still standing still, frozen in place by the dining room table, watching the events before you unfold with a smile you couldn’t hide if you tried.
“Welcome to family dinners,” she told you with a laugh, Ben once again yelling at Johnny in the background as he dipped his hand into a cereal box. “Before you ask: yes, it is always this chaotic.”
The chaos was nice, it almost felt like home. A home you hadn’t known for years now. Watching them, you could almost picture them all, the family you used to have: a flash of Natasha’s red hair in your head, the sound of Steve’s laughter, Tony’s quips that Sam always met back just as quick, Wanda muttering to you about how you worked with idiots.
Johnny’s eyes met yours again, a soft smile and a playful wink sent your way before he ducked out of the way of Ben’s arm again, and that was somehow enough to soothe that ache in your heart for just one night
❤︎
“I know people usually look exhausted after leaving Reed’s lab…but you were down there for two hours. I’m surprised you’re alive,”
Stalking across the room into the kitchen of the Baxter Building, you faked a laugh in Ben’s direction, dipping into the fridge for a bottle of water to nurse the headache you could feel approaching. The man let out a laugh at your actions, shaking off his oversized trench coat and tossing it over toward the dining room as he placed the multiple paper bags in his hands down on the counter.
“I am, too,” you shot back at him, hopping up onto the island counter beside him to sit. Ben just laughed at your antics, rifling through the bags on the counter from the market down the street. “He asked for more blood tests, so I consented even though I told him he’s not going to find any answers to why I have magic in my blood.”
“And did he?”
“NO!”
Ben’s laugh thundered through the room as he put some of the groceries away in the cupboards. Returning to the island counter, he dipped into a smaller, white paper bag, producing a small sleeve of paper holding a warm cookie within. The headache you felt coming on almost completely dissipated the second the sweet smell filled the air.
“Good thing I grabbed some of these, then. Eat, before you pass out from blood loss,” you didn’t argue, taking the gooey chocolate chip cookie from him with a smile and sinking your teeth in. “It’s from Maisie’s. Figured it was about time I showed you the best cookies in town, not sure how I held off for two months.”
Two months. It was a time period you tried not to dwell on. If you thought too long about how long you’d been stuck in another universe with no way back home, you were sure you’d start spiraling more than you did every night that your head hit the pillow of the guest floor. The guest floor that was slowly just becoming your floor.
If you thought about it too long, you’d remember how you were starting to forget the sound of Sam’s laugh. How this was the longest you’d gone without visiting Pepper, how Morgan was probably asking where you were. You hadn’t put flowers at Nat’s grave in so long, you could only hope her sister had gone and changed the flowers.
“Well, it’s quite good,” with a slight shake of your head, you sent Ben a strained grin, enjoying the taste of the cookie. It wasn’t a lie, it was quite possibly the best cookie you’d ever had.
Ben hummed, holding your gaze for a moment, before he smiled. It was soft, but you could see it woven in: the pity.
“Thinking about home?”
You swallowed, both the bite of the cookie you’d taken and the lump that formed in your throat.
“Yeah…always am. I hate how good you are at reading me, by the way,” Ben chuckled at your comment, returning to putting the rest of the groceries away in their designated spots. “Reed offered to invent multidimensional travel again today.”
“Did you say yes?”
“No, I turned him down like I do every time,” Ben returned as you shook your head with a wry laugh. “It sucks because I know he could do it, he’d have me home within a week. But multiverse traversal spells exist, they have for a very long time, which means they obviously don’t blow a hole in the space-time continuum. I don’t need Reed to accidentally blow a hole in the entire multiverse just to get me home.”
Ben hummed. Placing one hand on the counter, his other rocky hand laid across both of your legs, delivering the slightest of squeezes in comfort that he was able to. You looked up, meeting his eyes, and practically melted under the kindness and comfort in them.
“You’re going to go home, I promise you that. You’re homesick: it’s where you belong, it’s full of the people you love, and we’ll get you back there. But think of it like this: you’re in a different universe, how many people get to experience that? Take it in, enjoy it, learn from it, eat all the Maisie’s cookies this world has to offer. The people you love will still be waiting for you back home, no matter how long it takes to get there,”
He moved away, his hand sliding back down to his side and he returned to the groceries. But his words stuck with you, hung in the air, settled deep within you.
The quiet hung there in the room for a moment as you just watched him, placing cereal box after cereal box on a shelf near the fridge. He met your gaze again when he turned around, rocky brow raising in question as you let a sigh slip past your smiling lips.
“You remind me a lot of Steve,” Ben waited, letting you collect your thoughts, never pushing. “He always knew what to say, especially to me. That’s how it feels talking to you a lot, like I’m talking to him again. I…I miss being able to talk to him.”
“Well, you can talk to me anytime,” he motioned his hand toward the cupboards of the island counter blocked by your legs. Sliding off the countertop, you stepped to the side as he bent down to put another bag away. “Who do the others remind you of?”
You mulled the question over in your head, grabbing a bag from the counter and helping Ben place the rest of the groceries away across the kitchen.
“I think Reed has to be Bruce, simply because they’re both too smart of their own good. Sue reminds me a lot of Natasha, with the way she takes care of everyone. Nat was quiet about it, but she was always picking up after the boys. Johnny…unfortunately reminds me of Tony. He’s got his same sass, wit, charm and flirtatious nature,”
Ben waved his hand in the air, a grimace on his face.
“Please, no, I don’t want to think about there being another Johnny out there in the multiverse,” you laughed, catching the bottle he threw in your direction to slot into the fridge. “Speaking of matchstick, where’s he at? He’s usually attached to your hip, what with his whole plan of whatever he calls it-”
“Ah, you mean Johnny Storm’s Complete Guide to the 60s?”
It was the dumbest name in the world, but given that Johnny had named it, you weren’t surprised. He’d taken it upon himself to give you a complete guide to what the 60s were like, with the added footnote that the weirdly futuristic 60s they lived in was bound to be different than the 60s of your own universe. Johnny had claimed you were too ‘cooped up’ on your floor of the building, and it was time you got out and ‘lived a little’ since you were here.
Johnny’s guide to the 60s began with bowling. He’d been so excited, sliding into those custom shoes for the alleyways, that you didn’t have the heart to tell him until you were beating him by 70 points in the 8th frame that bowling was very much the same game in the 2020s.
“No, that’s unfair!” Johnny had called out, mouth dropped open as he pointed an accusatory finger in your direction. The manual scoresheet in his hand was all but crumpled at this point. “You didn’t tell me bowling was still a thing!”
“To be fair, Johnny, you didn’t ask,” was the only response you could manage through your laughter, grabbing your ball once more and aligning yourself with the lane in front of you. “Bowling is very much still around, and very much the same game. I guess you just aren’t as good at it as you think you are.”
You weren’t laughing long, a spark of heat igniting along the back of your hand just as you let go of your ball. Your hand jerked immediately at the feeling, sending your ball rolling straight into the gutter. Mouth dropped open, it was your turn to point an accusatory finger in Johnny’s direction.
“Hey!”
“Leveling the playing field here, baby,” he teased, skirting by you as his fingers bumped your chin slightly, before he grabbed his own ball as his body was racked with laughter. “Now, let me show you how good I really am at this game.”
Johnny’s own laughter was short-lived. His ball made it halfway down the lane before coming to a sudden stop along the slick surface, surrounded by a hum of blue magic that flicked it off into the gutter. His betrayed face turned to face you, met with your smirk and hand held out toward the ball. You only batted your eyelashes at him.
“Hey, if you’re going to level the playing field with powers, then I am too. It’s only fair,”
“Oh, I’m going to show you fair-”
The laughter that poured out of you mixed with a shriek the second Johnny practically tackled you, throwing your body over his shoulder like it was nothing and parading you down the alley, highfiving little kids along the way as you could do nothing but laugh, smile never slipping for a second.
Go-Karting, on the other hand, was definitely a little different in the 60s. The karts themselves were much different, a lot less structurally sound at times and incapable of doing the speeds that you knew Johnny really had wanted to drive them at. He had claimed to win the race fair and square, even as you pointed out that he’d gone as far as to melt one of your tires right before you crossed the finish line.
Record stores, golfing, roller-skating, you named it and Johnny dragged you off to do it. He filled every moment with vibrant stories: the record store was one that Sue liked to take him to when they were growing up, golf was something he fell in love with after coming back from space with powers, and how roller skating was something he swore he’d never do, but the smile on your face the entire time had been well worth it.
The diner had been your favorite. Griddles & Waffles, nestled deep in the heart of Queens. A 24/7 joint that sold breakfast and breakfast only, a beloved place by locals. Johnny had been awake into the early hours of the morning that night, the only one still up, diving into a box of cereal buried in the kitchen when you screamed. The next thing you knew, he was practically diving out of the elevator onto your floor as you shakily grabbed a glass of water in the kitchen, eyes wide and panicked as he informed you that he could hear you scream floors away. One look at the state you were in and he was shoving you into the hoodie he was wearing and shoving you out of the building and into his car.
“You took me to a place with waffles in the name, and you ordered pancakes?”
Johnny’s eyebrow shot up, half of the stack of pancakes in front of him practically shoved into his mouth as he pointed the fork in his hand in your direction.
“Don’t you ever diss these pancakes, you hear me? Best flat pieces of dough in the entire state of New York,”
You couldn’t help but laugh lightly under your breath as he barely got his words out through the food in his mouth. Taking another bite of your own waffle, it was easy to get lost in the decor of the diner. Bright colors, shiny metal gleaming under the lights, it looked exactly like the recreations that existed in your own universe. The simple thought of home brought your frown back in seconds, and Johnny was instantly snapping his fingers.
“No, there’s no frowning in Griddles & Waffles, you hear me?” you rolled your eyes, but that simple thought weighed heavy on you, lips still pulled into a frown. Johnny made some motion toward the waitress before he leaned into the table toward you, drawing your gaze to him and his waiting, patient, gentle eyes. “Honey, I’m surprised that scream didn’t wake anyone else up. What’s wrong?”
“It was nothing. Just a nightmare…a memory of a day I don’t like thinking about,” you tried to deflect, shoving your fork around your plate, scraping it against the ceramic. Johnny’s hand caught yours, his eyes still soft and gentle, as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze until you relented. “It’s…I don’t like talking about it. I don’t get nightmares about it often anymore, but when I do, it feels like I’m there again: in that forest full of nothing but blood and dust.”
The blonde hummed, fingers gently rubbing small circles into your knuckles. His skin was warm, unusually warm from the heat that coursed through him, the feel of it on your skin bringing a sense of comfort. Then, he took his hand away, holding both his hands out like he was presenting something, that dazzling smirk of his lighting up his face.
“Have no fear, because Griddles & Waffles has the perfect cure for sadness!”
The waitress came back, sliding a single tall glass onto the table between the two of you with two straws tossed down onto the tabletop. You glanced at it: one large, over the top, classic chocolate milkshake with a large cherry resting right on top. You looked back up at him, your eyebrow raised this time.
“A milkshake? At two in the morning?”
“Have some faith in me, baby,” Johnny teased, slipping the two straws into the shake with ease. He took the cherry between his fingers, easily biting off the majority of the fruit as he twirled the stem between his teeth. Your eyes flicked down for just a second, to the stem between his lips and the hint of red juice that covered them, before your skin flushed and your eyes were back on his. “This is about to be the best milkshake you’ve ever had, and it’s going to cure every bit of sadness in your body.”
Johnny was known for exaggerating, but you indulged him anyway. With a short eyeroll you leaned in, taking a single sip from the straw pointed in your direction. Johnny waited, his smile wide and bright as his fingers tapped against the table, the sound echoing through the mostly empty diner in the middle of the night.
“...alright, it’s pretty damn good,”
His cheer echoed through the diner, the waitress shooting him an unimpressed look as his hands banged down on the table. Another round of laughter slipped past your lips as you shook your head at his antics.
“See? You have to trust me more often,” Johnny teased, leaning in to take a sip of the shake from his own straw. “These milkshakes are the cure to sadness.”
You didn’t have the guts in that moment to tell him the shake didn’t cure anything. No, you felt lighter simply from that boyish grin and the laughter that fell from Johnny Storm’s lips, something you weren’t keen to admit quite yet.
“Talking about me, baby? I leave you alone in the lab for a few hours and you miss me that much?”
As if hearing his name from floors away, Johnny Storm himself came strutting straight into the kitchen, charm rolling off him with every step he took. That smile of his was as bright as ever, eyes wide and full of mirth.
He practically skipped up to your side, tossing the box of food in your hand somewhere onto the counter. Cradling your hand in his, he brought it to his lips without another thought, pressing a featherlight kiss to your knuckles. His gaze never wavered from you the entire time.
With a roll of your eyes, though paired with a smile full of affection, you shoved him off, placing the box of food he’d just tossed away into its rightful place as you shot him a look over your shoulder.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Johnny. Contrary to what you think, you are not the only thing I’m thinking about,”
“You see, but that implies that I am one of the things you’re thinking about,” his response came easily as he made his way over to Ben, stealing one of Maisie’s cookies from the bag before he could be stopped. Ben only let out a sigh that could probably be heard from the other side of the city. “Nevermind that, though, I came here on a mission. The sun is setting and we’ve got a 40 minute drive, so get upstairs and attempt to look even cuter than you already do, if that’s possible.”
Exchanging a quick look with Ben as Johnny walked backwards out of the kitchen and back into the living room, you both looked back at the blonde moments later.
“Get ready for what?” you questioned. “To go where?”
“Long Island, sweetheart. Your guide to the 60s continues tonight,” he paused at the stairway, one hand on the railing and the other pointing across the room toward you. “Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes, got it?”
You considered arguing, but the truth was, you didn’t want to. Every one of these excursions with Johnny so far had been fun, had been enough to fill that little hole in your chest for a fleeting moment, and right now you wanted that more than anything.
“Alright, ten minutes,”
He clapped, beginning to move up the stairs as he practically shouted across the room.
“Good girl. It’s a date-”
“It is not a date-” your words fell on deaf ears as he went sprinting up the stairs, yelling out a distant “It very much is a date!” from the next floor. It was impossible to ignore the heat spreading in your cheeks at his words, though.
The silence of the room only hung there for a minute before Ben’s laughter filled it, echoing off the walls. Shutting your eyes for a moment, you let out a deep breath, trying to understand the enigma that was Johnny Storm sometimes, before patting Ben on the shoulder as you moved toward the elevator.
“Well, wish me luck on whatever this next excursion is. Hopefully it doesn’t involve him almost whacking me in the head with a golf club again,”
“You’ll be just fine,” Ben called out from the kitchen, speaking through his laughter. You could clearly hear the underlying teasing tone to his words. “Have fun on your date-”
“Benjamin, don’t start with me!”
It might not have been a date, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to try. There really was no reason to, though: Johnny had seen you at your worst over the last two months. Always arriving on your floor sometimes at the crack of dawn with an idea for the day, startling you before you even had a chance to wipe away the mess of tears streaking across your cheeks from yet another nightmare you’d just awoken from.
It wasn’t a date. Just because you chose the cutest pair of pants and a sweater that the closet full of 60s style clothes offered didn’t mean anything. Not a damn thing.
You hated to admit how good Johnny looked in just a simple grey sweater and some slacks. Strutting toward you through the lobby of the Baxter Building, employees already sent home for the day and leaving the lobby bathed in silence, he let out a short whistle as he came to a stop in front of you.
“You say it’s not a date, but you sure do look nice,”
“That’s because your sister filled my closet with all nice clothing,” you shot back.
Johnny hummed, eyes still scanning you up and down. Eyes finding yours again, he held out his arm to you, just as he typically did on these little excursions.
“Come on,”
Hand resting in the crook of his elbow, the cool night air sank deep into your bones as you stepped outside. Johnny’s hand was quick to find the handle to the passenger side door of his custom blue Corvette, swinging it open and taking your hand in his to help you into the leather seat, just as he always did.
The leather made a noise as you shifted, buckling yourself into place as Johnny cooly slid into the driver’s seat. One hand rested on the wheel, the other drumming along the knob of the gearshift as his foot hit the gas, sending you speeding out of the drive of the Baxter Building and onto the roads of New York.
“What’s today’s adventure?” you asked after a few moments of silence. Johnny’s grin simply brightened, his glance finding you beside him for a second before his fingers turned the knobs of the radio on, filling the call with music as he continued to cruise down the streets he knew like the back of his hand.
“That’s a surprise, sweetheart. Just enjoy the drive,”
It was easy to enjoy it. The same city you’d grown up in, yet so different at the same time. Every building looked new, the atmosphere felt lighter than New York had for you in years, everything about the city you knew so well felt different. The lights, the skyline, everything still felt like home as you crossed the East River, flying through the streets of Brooklyn and eventually Queens.
The heaviness eventually found you, though, just like it had every day for the last two months. As city lights shone off the windows of the Corvette, bathing you in its light, your mind still wandered back to memories. The first time Tony had driven you upstate to the new compound in the passenger seat of the god awful orange Audi. The quietness that came with the blip, the way the entire city fell still. The sweeter moments, like dragging your best friend from the compound late one night and sneaking into the city, sitting along the Brooklyn Bridge to admire the lights.
“Hey,” those memories came to a halt, Johnny’s hand brushing across your knee, settling there with a gentle squeeze. “You’re thinking hard over there.”
You hummed, head still resting on your hand as your elbow sat against the window of the car door. You let your eyes settle on his hand, just watching the way his thumb drew circles into the side of your knee.
“Reminiscing on my New York, that’s all,”
“Ah, getting homesick,” the sight of Johnny nodding was just barely visible out of the side of your eyes, His hand slid from you, joining his other hand on the wheel. “You’ll go home, back to your futuristic universe eventually, I know it. Then you can forget all about us in this little universe.”
The radio was blaring a Frank Sinatra song, something much too slow for the night time around you. The song crackled through the speakers as you glanced over, observing the side of Johnny’s face. For a man that hid behind such an extravagant persona for the media and the fans, you could see right through it. That hint of sadness in his own features, woven into the creases of his eyes and the lines around his lips, at the thought of you leaving.
I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast. I fall in love too terribly hard.
“I think you’re underestimating how much I will miss you guys when I go home,” you told him simply, the music playing lightly through the speakers. It really was that simple, it was the truth. “I’ll miss you guys a lot. I’ll miss you.”
Johnny’s hand seemed to tighten along the steering wheel for just a second, so quick you almost missed it. Those blue eyes glanced over at you, catching your gaze. His features were riddled with something you couldn’t understand, but could see how gentle it was, until his charming smile was back, wiping away any trace of the strange emotion you had seen.
“Careful there, little witch. It’s starting to sound like you’re falling unequivocally in love with me-”
His laughter filled the car, overtaking the sound from the radio as your hand reached out and shoved his shoulder, your own laughter mixing in with his own.
“You’re fucking impossible, Johnny Storm,”
Of everywhere that you could’ve thought Johnny would be dragging you to, a drive-in theater was the last place you would’ve imagined.
The entire stretch of lawn buried deep within the heart of Long Island was packed with cars of all different kinds, vintage ones you had never seen in person. There was a group of teenagers crowded around one of the cars, hugging their friends and talking animatedly between each other. Some couples walked through the lines of vehicles, giggling together under their breath as they carried their food from the little stand off to the side.
Johnny pulled the car to a stop in one of the last remaining spots, side windows immediately rolling down to allow the sound from the mounted speakers to infiltrate the car. Night had set in, an announcement projected onto the large screen that the movie would begin soon, as you turned to find Johnny already watching you with a wide grin.
“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve been to drive-in theaters too?”
“They’re still a thing, but I’ve never been,” was the response you gave, a small laugh falling from your lips as he excitedly punched the air. “I have always wanted to go to one, though”
“Then your wish, princess,” in his usual dramatic fashion, Johnny stole your hand in his. With a kiss placed to your knuckles, he was already halfway out of the car before you could truly process the moment. “Is my command. Be right back with the snacks.”
You watched him the entire time he was gone. From the moment he slipped out of the car to ordering something from the snack stand, you watched. Even as the young girl working behind the counter seemed to fangirl at the sight of the Human Torch in front of her.
His charm was stupid most of the time. Little one liners, flirtatious jokes, touches that were all but friendly in nature. You didn’t care for a single one of those moments. It had been awhile, but you’d seen Tony use the same tricks. In the briefest of time you had known Peter Quill even he had tried it. Those moments meant nothing to you, but these did.
Bringing you breakfast in the morning just so you didn’t have to be alone. Dragging you around the city to participate in a thousand activities on the off chance that you hadn’t done them before, once again so that you wouldn’t feel alone and left with your thoughts. Hearing a single scream from you, seeing a single tear, and dragging you through New York in the middle of the night just to see you smile again. Those moments worked on you–meant something to you–more than you wanted them to.
The moment he was swarmed by a bunch of little kids trying to leave the snack stand didn’t help the turmoil you felt inside either. Johnny didn’t complain, not once, simply balanced the food in one arm so he could lean down and high five one of the girls, ruffling the hair of another little boy standing right next to her. He smiled wide, you could see the shake of his chest as he threw his head back in laughter, igniting his hand quickly as the kids all clapped and gasped in awe at the sight of their own personal superhero. There was a news reporter nearby, calling out for a photo that Johnny happily posed for with the kids, leaving them with one last story that had them all looking up at him in awe and adoration.
You hated the stutter that occurred in your heart. You weren’t dumb–you knew what it meant. Johnny Storm was charming, handsome, a literal superhero that had captured the hearts of the entire world. He, also, was the most down to earth man you had ever met sometimes, more observant than you gave him credit for, and too sweet for his own good.
If you thought hard enough, you could almost hear Wong’s voice in your head, scolding you for slowly falling for a man from an entirely different universe. The definition of a man you could never have, never meant to be yours.
“Got swarmed by some little kids, had to make sure I showed off the flames,” Johnny’s voice broke through your thoughts as he slid back into the car, passing a bag of popcorn over the console and into your hands. Just as he did, the large screen in the lot changed, the beginnings of the movie beginning to play as some of those teenagers from earlier began to clap and holler. “Just in time.”
Shaking those thoughts from your head, trying to will them away, you brought your gaze back to the screen. The opening shots of the credits, directors names and actors names plastered across the screen as it dove into the first scene without hesitation, situated on some mountain with hoards of people who were dressed for an even more vastly different time period than now.
“Spartacus?” a questioning glance was thrown Johnny’s way from you as you took a quick bite of your popcorn. “An action/adventure movie was your choice for a drive-in movie date?”
“Hey, you’re the one who said this wasn’t a date,” Johnny retorted, meeting your glance as he took in another handful of popcorn himself with a cheeky grin. “Besides, I didn’t peg you to be a romance movie kind of girl.”
“On some occasions I can be,” you gave back with a shrug. “A good action movie is definitely more my speed, though, so good choice.”
“What can I say, I know you,”
He did. He really did.
It was barely an hour into this three hour movie when your mind finally began to drift off again. Legs curled up on the seat under you, your own popcorn bag finished off and discarded at your feet as you reached over to steal from Johnny’s own bag, you found your thoughts leaving the movie once more. But instead of thinking about home, about the people you lost or the ones waiting for you to come back, you found them on Johnny once again.
Watching the side of his face quietly, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him mouth some of the words to the movie under his breath, almost mimicking the accents of the actors themselves. It was enough to elicit a small giggle from your lips, bringing his gaze from the movie over to you instead.
“Are you quoting this movie word for word?”
“Hey, don’t knock it. I happen to really like this movie,” your giggles persisted, even as Johnny reached into his bag and tossed a handful of popcorn in your direction. “You should see Ben watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s, he could probably act that entire movie out for you. Don’t tell him I told you that.”
“You’re both such dorks,”
“Come on, don’t you have a movie you can quote?”
You hummed, letting the question sit with you for a moment, memories rushing back over you.
“Not a movie, but a show. Full House,” Johnny’s gaze never left you, the movie long abandoned in his eyes for a moment. An idea sprang to mind, your head tilting ever so slightly as you shot him a grin. “Want to see it?”
Excitement crawled into Johnny’s eyes immediately, his head nodding as he sat up straighter in the driver’s side seat.
You took a deep breath. Holding up your hand to the door beside you, that familiar blue magic seeped from your fingertips as that same color glowed in the irises of your eyes, crawling along the interior of the car until it reached the windshield. Your eyes were watching Johnny once again, the absolute wonder in his eyes as his windshield shimmered in blue, before the screen through the windshield changed before your very eyes: gone were Kirk Douglas and Laurence Olivier, replaced instead by John Stamos and Bob Saget in that iconic kitchen of their San Francisco home.
With another flick of your hand, the speaker at your car switched, playing the sound of the show you were now broadcasting instead of the movie.
“Don’t worry, no one else can see or hear this. Just us,”
Johnny was barely paying attention to what you said, too busy dipping his head in and out of the window in shock and awe, the screen beyond the windshield still playing Spartacus while within the confines of the car your tv show was playing.
“You…I don’t know how you do it, but you somehow get hotter every time you use your magic,”
Laughing, you reached into his popcorn bag and threw an unpopped kernel at the side of his head. Resting back into your seat, arms wound around your knees, you found yourself lost in the scene before you on the screen.
“This was one of Wanda’s favorite shows,” after a minute of silence, engrossed in the scene, you told him. You could feel Johnny’s eyes watching you instead of the show. “She always liked older shows, like Bewitched or I Love Lucy. We used to watch this one all the time in the compound, whenever Steve didn’t have us training constantly.”
Johnny didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched you.
“She was your best friend, wasn’t she? I don’t think you’ve ever said her name,”
“That’s because it’s hard to talk about her,” finding his gaze again, the gentle comfort shining in his gaze washed over you, as if draping you in a blanket. Swallowing the lump in your throat that always formed when you thought too hard about her, you offered him the smallest smile you could muster. “Just a few weeks before I wound up in your universe, I lost her. She lost herself to dark magic, let it consume her, so like the brave woman she was, she chose to protect the world from herself.”
Your words hung in the air, neither of you speaking for a moment. The scene from the show continued to play out before you swiped your hand through the air, dissipating the magic and letting the picture and sound of the movie return to the screen and the little speaker. It hurt too much to relive those moments.
“Hey, do you think by showing me a show that hasn’t come out yet in my universe, this will mess up, like, space and time? Like, what if I go pitch this show to Hollywood real quick and get it made a whole decade before it’s supposed to get made?”
The car got quiet, the only sound being the audio from the movie still playing through the speakers. Raising an eyebrow, entire face contorted in confusion, soft laughter sputtered out of your lips at the simple comment.
“I…what? Johnny that…” his smile grew, as did your laughter as you struggled to get your words out. “Johnny, that doesn’t make any sense?”
“I’m aware,” his hand reached out, thumb and index finger pinching your chin between the soft pads of his fingers. Your breath caught, laughter dying down as you just stared at him, as he drew small circles into your skin, heat blooming under his touch. “You were getting sad. I just don’t like seeing you sad.”
Johnny’s words were so sincere. Not a hint of his usual charm, not a single signature Storm smirk in sight, just genuine affection. Genuine care for you, for your thoughts, for the way your memories made you feel.
The idea of never going home again hurt, but the idea of leaving the Fantastic Four? Of never seeing Johnny Storm again? That was starting to hurt even more.
Even as his blue Corvette was parked in front of the Baxter Building again late that night, headlights flickering off and plunging the car into darkness except for the street lights around the building, your eyes kept flickering back to him.
Driving through Queens, you no longer thought back on the memories of walking through the city one night with Steve when you were younger. Now, you thought about the diner, about the smile on Johnny’s face as he watched you try that milkshake in the dead of night. As you crossed over the bridge into the city, you didn’t think of the nights you and Wanda would sit on the edge and watch the city lights, you instead watched the way the lights danced over Johnny’s skin through the glass.
The elevator of the Baxter Building popped open on the floor of the main living room. The building was quiet, just a lamp in the corner by the staircase to the bedrooms lit up, everyone else fast asleep.
Johnny stepped out of the elevator, pausing just barely still in the doorway. One arm leaning on doors, keeping them open, you both just stood still and watched one another for a moment.
“For a not date, this very much felt like a date,” you threw at him after a moment. Those blue eyes of his lit up, smile lines etching themselves into his skin as his little grin grew immediately.
“Oh sweetheart, this definitely wasn’t a date. Our first date would be a lot different, trust me,”
You hummed, taking a step forward in the elevator, eyes never leaving his. There was barely space left between the two of you now. Johnny's sharp intake of breath was evident, the smile on your lips growing as you ignored every little voice in your head telling you this was a terrible idea.
“What would our first date be like?”
Surprise crawled into his expression. Eyes wide and bright, the smile on his face warped into something you couldn’t quite place. The hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks crawled forward, gingerly placing itself against your waist. Not pulling you closer, just lying there: steady, grounding, present. You didn’t push him away.
“The Regent,” he spoke softly but certainly, eyes never straying from yours. “Exclusive little dance hall just a few blocks away. Live band every night. You’d look just as beautiful as you always do, and I’d get to spend the entire night spinning you around in circles. Making you smile, watching you laugh, holding you close. That would be our first date.”
You hummed, stepping just a hair closer to him. His fingers flexed along your waist, squeezing ever so slightly, as one of your hands came to rest on his chest, looking up at him through your lashes.
“Sounds like you’ve thought about this,”
“Every night since the moment I realized you weren’t a threat that was coming to destroy my entire world…again,”
“I don’t know,” you teased, hand curling into the fabric of his shirt. “According to Sue, you’re kind of into that thing. I could always coat myself in some shiny silver paint if that does it for you.”
He huffed out a puff of air in laughter, tugging you in until you were pressed to his chest in the doorway of the elevator.
“No, you just have to be you. The pretty little witch that could cut off my oxygen supply with a flick of her wrist is all I need. All I want,”
Your eyes trailed down, along the bridge of his nose, until they settled on the pink of his lips. As you spoke, you never looked away from them.
“When would this date be?”
“Tomorrow night, 8 on the dot,”
“That’s so soon, eager?”
“Extremely, I’ve only been thinking about this for two months,”
Your laughter was soft as your eyes finally trailed back to his, only to find them settled on your lips in turn.
“It’s a date, then,”
His blue eyes found yours, shining with an affection that made your knees week. The hand gripping your waist trailed up, fingers dancing along every curve of your body, until it curled around your cheek to cup it within his hand. The heat of his skin bloomed through yours, sending a single shiver down your spine.
“You know,” his voice was low, eyes blown slightly wider than they had been before, as his eyes quickly darted back down to your lips for a moment. “This would be the moment during the date where I’d probably try and kiss you.”
Even with the flutter of butterflies through your chest, head feeling lighter than it ever had before, your lips curled into a wide grin. Eyes glowing blue for just a moment, a small burst of magic left the hand resting on his chest, pushing him backward and out of the elevator doors.
Johnny’s wide eyes watched you as he caught himself, steadying himself on the ground as he stared at you with a dumbfounded smile. You only returned the look, pressing the button for the guest floor without ever breaking eye contact.
“Guess you’ll have to try your luck tomorrow night,”
Even with the amount of bravado laced into your words as the elevator doors swung shut, cutting you off from Johnny’s captivating gaze, nothing could quell the swell of emotion building behind your chest at the simple thought of the blonde man who’d managed to capture your heart without even really trying.
❤︎
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you want to go on a date with matchstick. I mean, he’s my buddy, he's a great kid, but come on. There’s no one waiting for you back in your universe?”
Ben’s comment earned him another affectionate eyeroll from you, along with a deadpan look shot across the kitchen island counter.
He was deep into making a fresh batch of cookies that he had been given the recipe for, the little old woman he’d met claiming they could match the quality of Maisie’s cookies. Reed was skeptical of the recipe, trying to offer advice from further down the counter, but Ben waved him off every single time.
Little Franklin was sitting in his highchair at the counter between you and Sue, babbling incoherently as he played with the little pieces of cereal laid on the counter in front of him. You were simply flicking the little pieces around with little tendrils of blue magic, Sue laughing every single time Franklin tried to catch a piece and you yanked it away.
“No, Ben, there’s no one waiting for me back home,” was the answer you gave the man, never looking up once as you continued to toy with the food on the counter. “Being a superhero for most of your life kind of makes dating an impossible situation.”
“I, for one, fully support this,” Sue chimed in, rising from her chair to refill Franklin’s bottle on the counter. She passed behind you, reaching out to help smooth down the white long sleeve blouse along your shoulders, forcing you to adjust it along your waist where it was tucked into the navy blue slacks she had helped you pick out earlier on. “This is the first time I’ve seen Johnny so head over heels for a woman in a way that might just stick. He worships the ground that you walk on, I love to see it.”
“It helps that you could kill him if you really wanted to,” Ben threw in for good measure, ducking the slap that Sue tried to land on his shoulder. “Sometimes I think it’s a secret kink of his-”
“Okay, I don’t want to hear about what kinks my little brother may or may not have,”
You laughed at the antics you had grown so used to from the group in front of you. Franklin got upset with the constant moving of his little cereal bits, grabbing a handful and tossing them toward you. Wide eyed at his antics, you grabbed onto his tiny hand, blowing a raspberry into the palm of his hand as his shrieks and giggles sounded throughout the room.
“Reed, I’m surprised you don’t have any comments to add in,” you threw in the super genius’ direction. “Nothing about how we’re from two different universes, or how this could blow up the entire multiverse?”
“I’ve been taking notes regarding it, actually,” Ben’s groan sounded through the room the second Reed said it, pulling a notebook out of his back pocket and flipping it open. “Your genetic makeup, based on previous tests, seemed to align with ours, but that doesn’t mean that fundamentally there isn’t something woven into your DNA that doesn’t match with ours. There’s also the idea that, given you’re from two different universes, you were never supposed to meet, so if you managed to fall in love there could be an unforeseen breakdown of the fabric of the-”
Sue’s hand immediately clamped over her husband’s mouth, giving him an unimpressed look, as she shot you the brightest smile she could manage. She slid the now refilled cup for Franklin across the counter to you as you caught it, laughing under your breath at the entire situation as you handed it over to the little boy beside you who made grabby hands in its direction.
“What Reed means to say is that you’re good for him, and honestly, we haven’t seen you as happy as you’ve been the last few weeks since you started spending more time with him. Since you got here he hasn’t done a single PR nightmare worthy thing. I think Lynne might want to get you the keys to the city for it,”
“What are we getting my girl keys to the city for?”
Maybe his charm never worked on you, his endless flirtatious moves and jokes. But in this moment, as he descended the stairs into the living room and your heart stuttered over several beats, you finally understood the hoards of women across the universe that had Johnny Storm plastered across their walls and their hearts.
The navy blue button up he adorned clung to him, almost slightly too tight on him as the fabric pulled in the creases under his arms and by his waist. It was tucked into a pair of white chino pants, accented with navy blue dress shoes. His smile was bright, cheeky as it always was, his hands clasped together behind his back as he made his way across the living room.
Taking a semi-shaky stand on the strappy heels that Sue had helped you into before, you met him halfway across the room, a hush having fallen over the kitchen as you felt their eyes watching every movement both of you made.
Johnny’s eyes trailed up and down your body the second you came to a stop in front of him, taking in the navy blue of your pants and the white of your blouse, before he cheekily shot you a wink.
“Twinning on the first date? What’s the slang they use in your time for that? Couple goals, wasn't it?”
“Couple?” your eyebrow shot up. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Storm. You have to earn that.”
“Oh, I’ll earn it,” his hands finally unclasped from behind his back, thrusting out toward you. “For you, gorgeous.”
A beautiful bouquet of flowers: Plumeria flowers. Glittering in an ombre of pinks and oranges, taking you back to one of those first nights on that couch just a few floors away.
You took the bouquet in your hands, eyes never leaving Johnny’s as you inhaled the sweet scent that wafted from the petals. The adoration that shone in his blue eyes sent your heart into another flutter.
“My favorite,” you responded.
“What, did you think I’d forget?”
“Kind of,”
“Give me a little more credit, darling,” he lifted one of your hands from the bouquet, cradling it in his as he left a kiss along your knuckles. “When it comes to you, I don’t think I could forget even if I tried.”
“Can you two leave for your date and go flirt elsewhere? My god, this is painful to watch,”
Sue laughed at Ben’s comment, and you joined in. Johnny shot the man a look, flipping him the bird that you were sure was being shot right back at him from behind your back.
Sue saddled up to your side seconds later, plucking the bouquet from your hands with a soft smile.
“I’ll put these in water for you and leave them upstairs,” she shot her eyes to Johnny, narrowing them. “Treat her well or I will cover for her when she drags your lifeless body back later tonight.”
Too busy laughing, you never even noticed Johnny’s eye roll toward his sister. The only thing you could comprehend as he pulled you into the awaiting elevator was the feeling of his fingers slipping into the empty spaces between yours, intertwining your hand with his.
It felt right. Too right for two people who should have never met one another.
The Regent was situated just a few blocks away from the Baxter Building, the perfect distance to walk straight there. You weren’t complaining, not with the way Johnny gripped your hand like he was afraid you’d pull it away, every so often tugging it gently so that your body fell into his, arm brushing against his arm.
“We fought with Moleman–well, I guess he prefers to be called Harvey–right here,” he pointed out just a few blocks from the Baxter Building, gesturing toward the blocked off area right beside a small park. There were fences up around what looked like a giant hole in the ground with just the very top of a building sticking out of it, signs indicating ‘keep out’ to everyone that walked past. “He runs Subterranea, the whole civilization under New York.”
“There’s an entire city under this city?” you questioned, looking up at him in alarm.
“Oh yeah, you guys don’t have that?” he quirked an eyebrow toward you as you shook your head in response. “He stole the entire Pan Am building, sinking it down into the ground before we could stop him. Been years and they’re still working on what to do with it.”
You took a single glance around: 45th Street and Park Avenue. The familiar intersection made you smile, one that Johnny seemed to understand all too well. Taking a quick glance around to ensure that there weren’t too many people watching, you slipped your hand from Johnny’s in order to tilt his head to look at where the building used to stand. With a single wave of your fingertips toward his temples, blue seeping into his eyes, you could see the moment they widened at the sight you were projecting to him.
“In my world, this was the site of the Avengers tower,” you could see the glamour you were showing him, but you knew it like the back of your hand. The tower that hung high above the skyline of the city, the shining ‘A’ that matched the one hanging from the belt of your suit. “It was Stark Tower, until Tony decided to fashion it into a base of operations for the team after the battle of New York.”
The vision faded, the traces of your magic leaving Johnny’s eyes, as they turned back to look at you. His hand found yours again without hesitation, fingers tangling with yours again as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him.
“How do you possibly get cooler and more interesting with every passing thing you tell me and show me? It’s not fair,”
Johnny filled every second of the walk with story after story. A diner on the corner that he’d rescued a little girl from during another fight in the city, and the way she’d hid behind her father shyly the second he’d dropped her back down on the ground. Another diner just a block away that he’d dragged Reed to after he’d locked himself in his lab for upwards of 48 hours, not having eaten a single thing to the point where Sue was concerned he’d just pass out on the floor in front of his chalkboard. The bakery that sat underneath a row of apartments that Johnny was convinced had the best pie in the world, but Ben still argued there wasn’t a single bakery in the world that could compare to Maisie’s over on Yancy Street.
Before you knew it, you were standing before The Regent. Elegant, sign shimmering and lighting up the darkened sidewalk before it. One single man stood at the door, surveying the area. With one look to Johnny, he nodded his head toward the door to grant him access.
Stepping into that room felt like entering an entirely new world. Light wooden floors that matched the light wood of the walls, which were decorated themselves with photographs upon photographs of couples and celebrities dancing and performing on the stage. The stage itself was beautiful, shining bright at the end of the room as the lights illuminated the band that was currently engrossed in some Elvis song that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The walls were all draped with velvety red curtains from the ceiling to the floor, accenting the dimly lit room, dance floor, stage and bar in color. Couples, friends, groups all mingled about, dining at the tables elevated at the back of the room, mingling along the walls, and dancing together in front of the stage.
“Of everything you’ve dragged me to these last few months,” you spoke up, voice rising to be heard over the music as the band switched songs, playing a cover of River Deep - Mountain High now. “This is the most 60s feeling thing yet.”
“And that, sweetheart, is why I saved it for a proper date,” Johnny appeared in front of you, your hand still clasped in his, as he tugged you forward. “Come on!”
Your laughter rang through the room as Johnny pulled you into the throws of people, finding an open spot among the crowd on the floor.
He spun you, that smile never dropping from his lips as you twirled in circles. Each twirl left you dizzy as the song played on in the background, the groups of people around you clapping along to the beat from the band. It was inevitable that you’d eventually stumble in the heels you weren’t accustomed to. Johnny’s arm was there, like you somehow knew it would be, curling around your waist. He dipped you, cheekily pretending as if it was all meant to happen, before spinning you back up onto your heels and pulling you into his chest.
“Come on, I can’t have you tripping and falling for me just yet,” he teased, hands holding yours as he spun you out once again just to pull you right back in.
“You try dancing in heels!” you shot back at him, earning a bright laugh from the man still dancing you around in circles. “We never danced like this at Tony’s parties.”
“I thought you said he threw a lot of those,”
“Yeah, but they were more stand around, drink, and talk parties than dancing,” you took a single glance around the room, at every woman being danced around by their friends and their partners. Swishing skirts, some almost touching the floor, loosely hanging from their bodies. “Not that the dresses I was forced to wear would've allowed for dancing. Too tight fitting–the one had a slit almost the entire way up my thigh.”
Johnny’s hand tugged you in at that moment, your chest flush against his. His lips skimmed over the edge of your ear, voice husky as he whispered into it just loudly enough for you to hear.
“I need you to not give me a mental image of your 21st century clothing while we’re in public, honey,”
A laugh bubbled from your throat as you pulled back to see him fully. The ways his eyes had darkened just slightly, the blue of his eyes almost completely overtaken, had your stomach doing a flip. But it wasn’t enough to stop the slightly sadistic smile that overtook your lips.
“Why? It’s so much fun, seeing you all worked up,” you let your fingers touch his jaw gently, nails dragging down the expanse of his neck and to the small bit of skin just barely visible along his collarbone, before you pushed away from him. “Come on, let’s get drinks!”
You could just barely hear his groan of “You’re going to be the death of me,” behind you as he followed you diligently through the crowd, his hand finding the small of your back within seconds so that you were never quite far from him.
Seated on one of the barstools, sipping gingerly at the drink Johnny had procured for you, it was impossible not to watch Johnny.
The way he animatedly retold a story about how they’d been invited to a fundraiser years ago in a dance hall, how he’d talked Ben into getting up onto the stage to dance. The way he so enthusiastically greeted those around the bar that did recognize him, as they slid in little comments about if you were the “mystery woman” that the papers had begun to pick up on over the last two months. He deflected them with ease, remembering many of those that said hello to him, asking such personal things about their families, their jobs, as if they were his best friends.
Your laughter spilled into your drink as the band played their own version of The Twist, and Johnny chose to demonstrate his moves directly in front of you. He smiled wide, eyes never leaving you, as he mouthed the words in your direction, following along with the dance every other person in the club was doing along with him.
“Johnny Storm: a superhero, an avid golfer, a lover of space, and now we can add dancer to that extensive list,” you teased, taking the final sip of your drink before leaving the empty glass on the counter behind you. “Do you frequent these dance halls a lot?”
“When I was a teenager I found my way here pretty often,” he answered easily as the song came to an end, the room cheering out and erupting in applause for the band. With one arm, he leaned against the counter beside you, looking up at you. “I wouldn't call myself a dancer, though. Just had enough practice to be semi-decent.”
“Practice, huh?” you questioned, just as the band started back up again. “How many girls have you taken dancing before?”
The band kicked back up, their next song already ready to go. You recognized it immediately: that same Frank Sinatra song that had played in the car through Long Island barely 24 hours prior. Johnny only smiled softly, standing out in front of you with his hand outstretched toward you.
“None. Promised myself that only one woman would ever have the pleasure of seeing me dance. Now, will you do me the honor?”
It wasn’t a line, not one of his usually charming, flirtatious lines. Not the way in which he said it: so genuinely, so vulnerably. You slipped your hand into his without a second thought.
Johnny guided you back out onto the dance floor, finding another open space among the couples around with ease. His arm slid around your waist, resting there as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that it really did feel so right, in a way you had never felt before.
His hand pressed firmly into your lower back, holding your body close to his. You could feel that unnatural heat that radiated off of his skin through the layers of clothing that adorned your body. One of your arms found its place around his shoulder, hand curled around the back of his neck and tangling just slightly with the hairs that laid there. Your other hand was clasped in his, taking in every bit of warmth that seeped from his palm into yours.
I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast. I fall in love too terribly hard for love to ever last.
“Can I ask you something?” you asked him quietly, nose just barely brushing along the edge of his jawline as you danced together, swayed back and forth across the floor with him.
“Anything,”
“You didn’t have to trust me that day in the park. You could’ve assumed I was a threat, taken me out. Instead, you took me in,” you closed your eyes, leaning in just slightly as your nose brushed over his jawline once again. “Then, you took it upon yourself to make me feel comfortable, to not let me feel alone in a universe that isn’t mine…why?”
“I mean, from the moment I saw you I thought you were pretty, but it was because I felt like I was looking at me,” Johnny’s answer was simple. No charm, no jokes, just the truth. “I saw myself for a moment, the me I was when we came home from space with powers. Confused, angry, terrified of what I had become. I didn’t know what to do. You looked so lost, so alone, and you continued to look that way every day. I didn’t…I didn’t want you to feel alone. I didn’t want you to feel like I did when I came home that day, when I felt like I had to lock myself away. It didn’t help that…I kind of fell for you along the way.”
Any hesitation in your heart, any thought in your brain still telling you that this was a terrible idea, that it could never work, melted away in that single second.
My heart should be well schooled ‘cause I've been fooled in the past. And still I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast.
“Can I ask you something?” he tacked on as your brain and heart still searched for a way to respond to him. All you could give him was a nod, one he could feel from where your skin touched his. “I’ve been flirting with you every day since we met. What made you finally say yes to a date?”
“Because I wasn’t saying yes to Jonathan Storm, the Human Torch, one of the four protectors of this Earth,” you told him simply, leaning back just slightly so that you could catch his gaze as you spoke, bodies still swaying back and forth to the swell of the violin. “I was saying yes to Johnny. The flame boy who decided to trust me. The guy that does the dumbest shit just to make his nephew laugh. The only one who’s made the pain of what I’ve lost lessen these last few months. I didn’t fall for all the bravado, or the charming lines, I just fell for him.”
Your confession was laid bare, as was his. He didn’t say a single word. Johnny simply smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to the crown of your head, before letting his eyes close and his forehead rest against yours. You followed suit, mirroring him, simply existing in the space within his arms.
My heart should be well schooled ‘cause I've been fooled in the past. And still I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast.
What felt like hours later, while also feeling like no time had passed at all, you found your hand clasped in Johnny’s once more. Roaming the streets of New York in the cool air of the night, a giddiness present in each of you that could only be compared to the feeling of pure childlike wonder and joy.
All you could think about was how right it felt, being with him. Having his hand in yours. Being in his arms. Universes separated you, but in this moment, you felt as if you had never belonged somewhere more than you did right now.
“Okay, okay,” Johnny forced out through his laughter, leaning into you as you turned another street corner, trying to find the next question to ask in the long line of questions you had been throwing back and forth. “Favorite fight that you had with the Avengers?”
“Oh god, I don’t know if I can answer that,” you responded easily with a laugh, shaking your head at the thought. “None of them were really fun, they all kind of left immense damage in their wake. One ended with me locked in a high security prison in the middle of the ocean for a short period of time, so, I guess that was fun.”
“That…that sounds like the opposite of fun,”
“Oh, it was. It sucked immensely,” he shoved his shoulder into yours for the comment. “Okay, my turn. Favorite memory with Reed?”
“When he asked me permission to marry Sue. I thought he was going to piss himself, I’ve never seen the man look so nervous,” Johnny laughed, tugging on your hand to bring you in closer to his side again. “Okay, how about your favorite thing you can do with your magic?”
Now that was a show instead of a tell question. Dropping his hand, you slid into the space in front of Johnny on the side walk, shuffling backwards against the pavement. He cocked an eyebrow as you shot him a tiny grin, before your hands at your sides began to glow in that familiar blue as your body lifted off of the grow by just a few feet, uncaring for anyone that could possibly see you in the area.
Johnny stopped in his tracks, dumbfounded as his wide eyes looked up at you. He sputtered for a moment, trying to find his words.
“Wait–you could fly this entire time, and you didn’t tell me?”
“You never asked!”
Johnny’s body ignited in flames, a sight you’d sparingly seen over your time in their world. From the chest down, every bit of him burned in those bright orange and red licks of fire as he, too, flew above the ground before you, back to being level with you once more.
“We could’ve been flying everywhere instead of driving!”
“Well, let’s just have some fun with it now,” you shot back with a wink, before propelling yourself upward. “Keep up, flame boy!”
The chill in the New York breeze was a familiar feeling, beating against your face as you propelled yourself up into the air, flying along the edge of the buildings. Johnny followed along right beside you, the heat of his flames fanning out over you and cancelling out the chill that night air brought with it.
His eyes never left yours as you spun around a corner of the building, propelling yourself further up into the air. You looked down, watching him with a smile as you hung there high above the buildings and the city of New York. Johnny joined you in seconds, hovering just in front of you. The clouds practically kissed your body, the city so far down below you both, leaving you alone together among the clouds.
You could see it, the glint in his eyes, the way they flickered down to your lips for just a second before glancing back up, pretending as if they’d never strayed away. He leaned in, and you let him for just a moment, before letting your body fall backward and freefall through the air back toward the city.
His laughter echoed through the sky as he flew down after you, following the sound of your own laughter. He saddled up to your side, flying down alongside you once again before you took a sudden turn, propelling yourself toward the rooftop of a building just barely in the distance.
Your feet touched down on the private rooftop moments later, magic dissipating from your fingertips as you landed, taking in a deep breath as the rush of flying left your body in one fell swoop. The rooftop garden you’d landed in was clearly one for a private residence, somewhere you probably shouldn’t have been, but you didn’t care. Not with the smell of the flowers invading your senses, the glint of the dim fairy lights strung around the roof bathing you in their light, and the view of the Baxter Building dead ahead.
Johnny’s feet touched the ground just moments after you, the sound of his shoes hitting the flooring alerting you. Spinning, he was standing just a few feet away, watching you with a little smile as he shook his head with laughter.
“You might be insane,”
“Sorry,” your giggles fell into the mix with his own laughter. “It’s been a minute since I’ve flown. I’ve missed it.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever flown with someone on a first date,” Johnny countered, taking just a few steps forward toward you. “Unless you count Shalla-Bal throwing me off her surfboard in space, but that wasn’t really a date.”
“Guess this was a first for both of us, then,”
You matched his steps, barely a few feet between the two of you now. Johnny didn’t make another step forward, though, didn’t close the space separating you.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, his foot tapped against the ground, and his hands clearly didn’t know what to do with themselves.
“What’s wrong?” you asked gently, even though you could practically see the nerves rolling off of him. He laughed, shaking his head as he glanced to the ground for just a moment, before back to you.
“I…I’m kind of nervous, if you can believe it,”
You hummed, taking the initiative to step up into his space, barely a few inches separating the two of you now. Your eyes never left him.
“Why? I thought the charming Johnny Storm had been on a bunch of first dates?” you teased.
He laughed breathily, eyes darting to your lips for just a second.
“Not ones that mattered…not like you do,”
You barely let him finish his sentence before you curled your hands around the back of his neck, tugging him down to you and slotting your lips against his.
It was short, but poured every bit of passion into it that swarmed through your heart and your head. Your lips moved against his just slightly, still testing the waters as the heat that coursed through his skin and into yours felt as if it was sinking straight down into your bones. Johnny’s lips were soft, supple, a shaky breath leaving his lips and fanning out over yours the second that they touched for the first time. Something in your head clicked at the feeling, something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, making you light-headed as your fingers just barely curled into the hair kissing the nape of his neck.
It was you that pulled away first. Barely a few inches away, the heat of his body still filling the air between you. His blue eyes bore down into your, wide and full of awe, lips slightly parted. A smile stretched across his face first, a matching once crawling across your own as you let your hands fully dive into his hair.
Johnny moved first, hands enveloping your waist and tugging you until your body was almost one with his, his mouth devouring yours in a kiss that had your knees almost crumbling to the ground.
Those heated hands swarmed your body desperate to touch every single expanse of you that they could in the way you were sure he’d thought about, in the way you never wanted to admit you sometimes dreamed about. Goosebumps crawled across your skin with every move of his hands, with every flex of his fingers and they pressed into you. His lips moved against yours like a starved man, slick with spit as your mouth opened to him, letting him invade every bit of you that you could, his tongue slipping just barely in and grazing over your bottom lip. A moan fell–from you or Johnny, neither of you knew–but the sound only spurred you both on.
His hands tightened their grip around your waist, holding him to you like a possession, one he couldn’t bear to lose. Claiming you. Your hand wound into his hair, tugging to elicit a groan from him, as you let your other trail down to rest over the patch of skin just barely visible under the single unbuttoned part of his shirt.
When your lips finally broke, soft pants filling the air between you, neither of you dared to look away. You couldn’t. It was like being in a trance, being pulled to the man in front of you almost magnetically. He leaned in, pressing a series of soft pecks against your lips, hands still flexing across your hips with each little peck that sent the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.
“This is crazy, right?” he muttered out between kisses. You hummed in response, matching each kiss of his with your own through your grin, hands still carding through his hair.
“What, falling for each other when we come from completely different universes?”
“Exactly that,” he responded, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, before his forehead rested against yours. Those blue eyes bore down into yours, a soft smile over taking his kiss bitten lips again. “I don’t care much, though. Not when it just…feels so right.”
Your smile matched his in seconds as you leaned forward, stealing yet another kiss that flooded your body with warmth.
“Me too,”
Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so crazy: falling for someone universes away from you. Even universes away, maybe Johnny Storm was always meant to be yours, always meant to be the missing piece to your incomplete puzzle.
❤︎
Johnny Storm had been called many things over the years by the media. A playboy, a womanizer, noncommittal. They were all wrong.
He preferred the term hopeless romantic, especially when it came to you.
Especially in this exact moment, leaning against the doorway of his bedroom in the early hours of the afternoon to see you sprawled out, tangled in the covers that were halfway off his bed. You looked as if you belonged there, and in Johnny’s eyes, you did. There was nowhere else that you belonged than right by his side.
Crossing the room quietly, trying not to disturb you, he gently placed the glass of water he’d ventured into the kitchen for down on the bedside table. He got distracted, as he typically did, at the sight of the polaroids splayed out across the wooden table. Taking them gingerly in his hands, terrified to ruin them, the smile that crossed his face couldn’t be wiped away.
You wrapped in his arms along the Coney Island beach in the early hours of the morning. One of just you, sprawled out in his bed in nothing but one of his button downs that fell down to your thighs. You on the couch, Franklin curled into your lap as you read him a book. His favorite one, sneakily taken by Sue late one night, wrapped in his arms on the balcony of the Baxter Building, lips pressed together through smiles.
He loved you. Johnny loved you more than he ever believed he could love someone in life. Multiverse be damned, you were it for him. You were meant to be his and his alone, and he was hell bent on loving you to the fullest extent every single day that he could, knowing someone could come along and rip you away at any moment.
But the universe had given him a year. An entire year to love you in every way that he could, to prove to you that you were it for him. He thanked whatever being out there in the multiverse he needed to every single day for the time he’d been given with you.
Johnny crawled onto the bed, tugging the comforter down from around your shoulders so he could fully see you. His pillow was clutched between your arms, the space in which he usually occupied. His white t-shirt, bearing the 4 logo that you’d made fun of him for months ago, covered your body, falling to the middle of your bare thighs.
He leaned in with a smile, pressing kiss after kiss to the bare skin of your arms he could see, trailing down to leave heat filled kisses to the bare skin of your thighs. He’d barely left three there before he could hear your giggle, body flipping over onto your back so that you could look down on him with a raised eyebrow and a grin.
“You left me,” you teased with a fake little pout. “I had nothing to hold but a pillow.”
“I’m so sorry, princess,” Johnny mumbled through his smirk, pressing yet another kiss into your thighs. His hands traveled up the sides of your legs, pushing his t-shirt with them as his kisses trailed further up the expanse of your skin. “How could I ever make it up to you?”
“I-I don’t know…round three doesn’t sound that bad,”
Johnny hummed through his laughter, mumbling a quiet “I love you” into your skin. He knew you could hear it, though, he knew that you knew it.
He reveled in every little noise that left your lips, every puff of air that was on the cusp of being a moan as he lavished every inch of your skin in a kiss.
“Look, you’re both adults so I try not to tell you what to do, but it’s the middle of the afternoon and–JESUS CHRIST, JOHNNY!”
He’d never sprang away so fast, throwing himself so hard to the side of the bed that he fell straight off of it to the floor with a thud. Your laughter filled the room as he crawled back up the side of the bed, your hand covering your mouth to conceal your laughter and the comforter pulled back up your legs.
Johnny immediately shot a glare at his sister, standing in the doorway of his room with her eyes covered by her hand.
“Sue, you have no one to blame but yourself for this–”
“You could have closed the door! I don’t need to see you doing all of that, my god,” Sue shook her head, peaking between her fingers to finally see that there was nothing happening, before dropping her hand. “Reed wants you in the lab for a few more tests, okay, he promised those would be the last ones this week. Just…look decent and meet us down there, okay?”
She grumbled the entire way out of the room, muttering comments about scarring her for life.
Johnny only rolled his eyes, throwing himself back onto the bed to hover above you. Nothing could ruin his mood, not when you looked up at him like that, smile bright and eyes full of adoration.
“That’s the third time this month she’s done that,” you managed to speak through giggles, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “She’s going to kill us one of these days.”
Johnny only hummed, ignoring the comment. Instead, his fingers trailed down your neck, grasping the chain of the necklace that rested against your chest, a little charm of a Plumeria dangling off the end. His Christmas gift to you, one of the many you received as you were showered in them by his entire family. He pressed a kiss to the flower, looking up to you, only to see that same soft look in your eyes.
“I love you,” he whispered out, leaning in to capture your lips in his before you could speak back. He could feel you sigh into the feeling, your fingers dancing over his cheek lightly as you kissed him back just as softly.
“I love you, too,” you whispered back against his lips, before your hand rested on his chest with a little push. “But we’re going to go down to that lab because if we stay here another second, Sue is going to be walking in on a sight that she really doesn’t want to see.”
Johnny groaned, but relented. Falling back to his knees, his hands wound under the covers to your hips, pulling you up to your knees quickly on the bed. His mouth found yours in an instant, cementing another kiss there just for good measure.
“Round three after, right?”
It was your magic this time that pushed him, sending him tumbling back off the bed as your laughter rang out through the room.
“If you can behave, then maybe,”
Still clad in his t-shirt, having thrown on the old pair of ripped jeans you’d arrived in this universe in over a year ago, Johnny tucked you under his arm the second you stepped out of his bedroom, unable to go a second without touching you in any way shape or form. You never complained, even leaned into him as he pressed a kiss to your hairline.
“Lynne was able to get us reservations at that one restaurant you’ve been wanting to try for tonight, by the way,” he told you as you stepped into the elevator, hitting the button for Reed’s lab instantly. He grinned at the way your smile brightened, eyes turning to look up at him.
“Oh my god, that new one in Times Square?”
“That’s the one,” Johnny shot back. He let his arm fall from your shoulders, letting it wrap around your waist. His hand found the edge of his shirt, dipping beneath it so that his hand could press against the skin of your bare back. “Thinking maybe afterward we could go for a little fly around the city, sit down on the Brooklyn Bridge for a little while.”
Your hands cupped his cheeks almost instantly after he spoke, pulling him into a kiss. A feeling Johnny was sure he would never grow tired of, never get enough of.
“It’s a date,”
Stepping out into Reed’s lab, the entire team was gathered around. Reed was fussing over a machine, just as he normally was, with Sue trying desperately to calm him down. Ben was entertaining Franklin over on the couch, reading to him one of his favorite books.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” Reed called out, ignoring the doting of Johnny’s sister as he waved you over frantically. “I just want to run a few more tests for this week. I changed some of the parameters, I just want to make sure that we have all of our bases covered.”
You gave Johnny’s hand a quick squeeze before crossing the room, sliding into the same chair you always sat in for Reed’s tests, presenting your arm for the usual blood draw. Reed was convinced that it was necessary to test your blood, to do weekly scans of your body, to ensure that there were no lasting effects on your from staying in the wrong universe for an extended period of time like you had.
Johnny joined Ben and Franklin over on the couch, leaning down to leave a little kiss on his little nephew’s forehead, one that left the boy smiling and giggling.
“Johnny,” Franklin was barely able to say his name, stumbling over most of the letters, but he heard him loud and clear. He ruffled the boy's hair with a laugh, kneeling down in front of the couch.
“Hey buddy,” Johnny glanced over at Ben, at the smirk on the man’s rocky mouth, and raised an eyebrow in question. “What?”
“Nothing, nothing. Love just looks good on you, kid,” Ben teased.
Johnny shot a look over his shoulder, straight toward you. Smiling in that chair, laughing at something Sue said, as Reed drew the blood from your arm with a practiced ease for his various tests.
“Nah, it’s just loving her,” Johnny glanced back at Ben, a hint of a sheepish grin on his lips as he shrugged. “I don’t know how to describe it, man. She’s just…I think she’s just it.”
Ben smiled, that knowing one that he always had, as his rocky hand came down to pat Johnny’s back.
“I think so too. You deserve this, matchstick. You were practically made for each other,”
Johnny agreed. He was trying to decide mentally if one year was too soon to officially make your last name Storm like he had promised months ago.
The quiet, the lightheartedness that filled the lab, couldn’t stay forever. Not when the alarms across the room began to blare.
Every head shot up at once, turning to look down the length of the lab to the computers where the alarm was blaring. Reed shot to his feet, taking a step in front of Sue as you ripped the needle from your arm in seconds to join them.
“Johnny-”
“On it!”
He’d practically sprinted halfway down the lab at that point, pulling up the alarm system at the designated workstation. That same map that had foreshadowed your arrival blinked on the screen, the same blip that showed your arrival in Gramercy Park blinking on the screen–right on the Baxter Building.
“It’s the same readings as when she got here,” Johnny called out down the lab, eyes frantically darting back and forth between you and Reed. “The blip, though, it’s right here on the building-”
There was sound from right beside him, startling him. Johnny whipped around, little sparks of yellow and gold flashing in the air beside him.
He instantly took steps back, shuffling backward and away from the growing sparks until his legs hit the back of the couch. Ben stood somewhere behind him, holding Franklin protectively in his arms. Reed held onto Sue across the room from where Johnny stood, keeping her at his side, as you stepped up in front of them: eyes glowing, magic dancing at your finger tips.
Until those sparks of energy grew, larger and larger, until they formed the makings of a small circle. Johnny could hear the second your breath caught, that glow in your eyes fading and the magic at your fingertips vanishing in seconds as you took another step forward.
“O-Oh my god…”
The sparking circle grew, almost the size of an entire person, before it stabilized, and out of what Johnny could only assume was a portal stepped a man. Older, tired, short hair and the remnants of cuts along his face. Body draped in elegant robes of purple and yellow he’d never seen before. His eyes darted around the room, before they landed on you, and he let out the loudest sigh Johnny had ever heard.
“Oh, thank god-”
“WONG!”
You’d practically flown across the room and into the man’s arms. Wong hadn’t wasted a second, hugging you back just as tightly as you cried, holding onto the man for dear life.
Johnny froze: Wong. He’d heard that name before. You talked about him all the time. The Sorcerer Supreme, the man you were supposed to wait for before you performed the spell that had landed you here in the first place. Johnny felt his heart break at the realization. He could feel the eyes of his sister on him from across the room.
His time had finally run out. Home had finally come to take you back from him.
“When I tell you that you aren’t to touch the Book of Vishanti without me, it is not a suggestion,” Wong scolded, hands clasping your shoulders as you violently wiped your tears across the room. “I already had to deal with Stephen breaking into the restricted section years ago, I do not want a repeat of that again. Do you know how difficult it is to find your energy signature through the vast multiverse?”
“I know, I know,” you nodded your head, before shaking it back and forth. “No performing any spells from an ancient book without your supervision. I got it.”
Wong nodded once, before his eyes finally glanced over the rest of the room. They settled on Reed and Sue, Ben and Franklin, and finally on Johnny.
“Do I need to worry about-”
“No, no, they’re friends. They’re practically family,” you assured the man, turning and gesturing out to the room. “This is the Fantastic Four. They’re essentially the Avengers of their universe…”
Your words trailed off as you finally met Johnny’s eyes again. He could see it, the moment that the realization seemed to settle in over you like it already had for him, and he thought his heart was going to break all over again.
From the corner of his eyes, he could see the glance that Wong sent between both you and him. A knowing one, one that spoke volumes without having to speak at all. He sighed, the sound ringing through the otherwise quiet lab, as he squeezed your shoulder.
“Five minutes,” Wong told you gently, his gaze drifting back to Johnny for just a minute. “There’s no telling if your time here has done any damage to the time streams. We need to get you home…I can give you five minutes.”
You only nodded, tearing your eyes away from Johnny. There was no arguing.
He knew this day would come, even if selfishly he wished it never would.
His eyes never left you as you crossed the room, practically flying into Sue’s arms. Johnny felt as if his head was under water. He could see your lips moved, Sue’s lips moving, but he couldn’t hear a word either of you said.
In his head, Johnny could guess what you were saying. A thank you for taking you in, for taking care of you, for all the times Sue had helped you dress for a date or taken you out into the city with her. He was sure Sue was thanking you for simply loving her little brother.
Reed pulled you into a tentative hug, short but still sweet. You didn’t exchange many words, but he could make out a “thank you” on his brother-in-law's lips.A thank you that simply encompassed everything, everything that he was sure Reed struggled to say.
Johnny saw your tears again when you stepped into Ben’s arms finally. A conversation that he was sure detailed the many early morning trips you’d made to Maisie’s together, or the late night talks that happened on the couch over drinks as some movie played on TV.
Franklin’s cries pierced the air, his hands making grabby motions toward you as he cried. You placed a single kiss to his head, walking away before you broke down.
Finally, you stood before him. Mascara running just slightly, tear stains littering your cheeks and down to your chin. You mustered the smallest of smiles that you could for him, albeit watery. Johnny tried to do the same, feeling the lump in his throat beginning to form.
“I thought I had three rules for you before you went home,” he managed to say, trying to swallow back the burning need to cry. You laughed, though the sound almost sounded like a sob, as you nodded your head.
“I’m leaving having accomplished two of those things. I guess that counts as a win,”
Johnny nodded, the beginnings of a sob almost bubbling out of his throat. Like two magnets pulled together, you fell into his arms. Head buried into his neck, Johnny’s one hand curled into your hair, tears slipping down his cheeks and soaking into the skin of the side of your head as your own tears soaked into his neck, your cries muffled by his skin.
“I love you,” he muttered into the side of your head, pressing kiss after kiss to your skin. “I don’t care. I love you. I love you more than anything.”
You pulled away, those red rimmed and watery eyes finding him, as you cupped his cheeks in your shaking hands.
“I love you too,” you whispered, stealing a kiss from his lips that took every bit of breath out of him. Your next words were whispered against his mouth. “This isn’t goodbye. I promise.”
Johnny managed a laugh, stealing another kiss as he gripped you as tightly as possible, hoping if he held on tight enough you wouldn’t slip away.
“What, you’re going to find a way to defy the multiverse to see me again? Abandon your home?”
“For you? Yeah,” you answer was short, meaningful, determined, definitive. Johnny believed every word. “I’ll see you again. And next time, I won’t have to leave. Because you’re my home, too.”
Johnny managed a smile, hoping it was as comforting as he wanted it to be, as he stole one last kiss. Not a goodbye, he wasn’t sure he could handle a goodbye. He wasn’t sure he could handle the idea of never seeing you again. This kiss was a promise. To what? He wasn’t sure. Maybe just a simple promise that he was yours.
“I’ll be counting the days,”
He couldn’t bear to look down at you again, afraid if he kissed you again he’d shove Wong back through that portal and find a way to hold you here forever. Johnny settled for a single kiss to your forehead, accented with the tears that were still running silently down his cheeks, before he let you go.
You slotted yourself back to Wong’s side, wiping at the tears that stained your cheeks. He placed a hand on your shoulder, and even Johnny could see how much it pained him to do this to you. He caught the slight flick of your hand, though, the slight burst of your magic, so small he wasn’t sure at first if he’d seen it correctly.
The room was silent as you and Wong stepped back through the glittering gold portal and onto the floor of the other side. Your eyes met his one last time, a watery smile crossing your lips, before it closed.
And in the blink of an eye, you were gone. Gone as if you’d never been there in the first place.
Franklin’s cries were still the only thing he could hear in the room, No one dared to speak, dared to break through the air, as Johnny’s eyes stayed locked on the last spot you had stood in.
“Johnny…”
He turned, tear filled eyes meeting with his family. The heartbroken look on Ben’s face, the conflicted look on Reed’s, and the absolute pity that shone through on Sue’s. She took a single step forward, but Johnny waved her off immediately, shaking his head as he wiped at his tears, forcing a smile.
“I-I’m fine. I just…I just need a minute,”
No one rushed after him, and he was thankful for it.
The entire elevator ride back up to his room was done in a daze, in a haze of emotions. His vision was blurry the entire time, but no more tears fell. He wasn’t sure he had more to cry.
Stepping into his room again, he felt like he could muster a few more tears. The bed was still unmade. The scent of your perfume, one you’d picked a few months ago with Sue, lingered in the air. Your clothes from the night before were strewn over a chair by his record player.
It was the only sign that you had, in fact, existed here in his universe. You weren’t a figment of his imagination.
Approaching his bed, wanting to bury himself in the lingering scent of you, his breath caught.
Lying there, on the unmade sheets, was a single flower. A single little Plumeria, remnants of blue magic dancing over and around its petals. Right below it? That same Polaroid Johnny loved so dearly.
He clutched it in his hands, willing himself to be back in the moment: holding you on the balcony that night, kissing you, telling you he loved you. As he did, your magic seeped across the bottom white edge of the photo, scrawling your handwriting across the bottom.
Unequivocally yours.
That, alone, was enough to bring a smile back to his lips.
Multiverse be damned: you were his. There was no one in this life or the next that Johnny Storm was convinced he could love more, just as there was no one that could love you the way he could.
In that moment, he knew for a fact he’d see you again. And next time, he was never letting you go.
burned out — johnny storm x fem!reader
Johnny is experiencing what every adult has probably gone through in their lives… he’s burning out. In his mission to fix this, he finds you.
warnings: burn-outs, mostly fluff, not 1960s themed in my head, reader owns a cafe trope, no use of y/n
masterlist
Johnny’s never experienced this before.
As smoke expands and the temperature gets warmer from the burning building, Reed shouts instructions over the comms. Sue’s forcefields preventing debris from falling. Ben pulling trapped civillians from the building, and Johnny— Johnny can’t flame on.
He stands just behind Reed, fists clenching and unclenching, jaw tight as he desperately tries to fly in there and absorb the fire, but he can’t. There’s a flicker of heat across his skin, but then nothing.
Something’s not right.
“Johnny, focus!” Reed calls, too busy to notice the panic twisting Johnny’s face. “We need to contain the fire, now!”
“I’m trying!” His voice cracks sharper than he intends. He throws his arm out, willing the fire to catch, to spark, to roar to life. But it only flickers again, like a match dying in the wind.
Ben glances up from the rubble. “C’mon, Matchstick, any day now.” It’s meant as a joke, but even Ben’s brow furrows when he sees Johnny’s pale face.
Sue cuts in quickly, her voice steady but soft. “Reed, I’ll expand the field—Johnny, just… stay back.”
It’s those last two words that gut him. Stay back.
In the end, Sue traps the fire until it dies down and the smoke clears. Reed gives Johnny a reassuring pat on the shoulder, muttering something about stress and overexertion. Ben doesn’t tease. And Sue’s smile is tight, worried for her little brother.
For the first time, he feels like a ghost among them.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Back in the Baxter building, Reed wastes no time running tests on Johnny. Everyone is surrounding him, worried that something might be wrong, but all of Reed’s tests indicate that his physique is perfectly normal.
“What do you mean?” Johnny asks even though he has a sense of what Reed is saying.
Reed sighs. “It means, if something is wrong, it’s not physical. It might be your mental state.”
Johnny’s eyes widen, “Are you saying I’m going crazy?”
“You just need some rest,” Reed insists.
“It happens, Johnny,” Sue says. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”
Ben folds his arms. “Yeah, maybe you should take a breather before you go up in smoke for good.”
Johnny sits quietly, slumped in the lab. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t joke. Doesn’t do anything but stare at his useless hands, palms open because they should be on fire.
Because if he can’t flame on, then he’s not the Human Torch. And if he’s not the Human Torch… then who the hell is he?
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Johnny stares at himself in the mirror.
He’s wearing his blue jacket, a fitted white tee, jeans, a cap, and sunglasses to hide his identity. He looks like some washed-up pop star trying not to get recognized after a scandal. But Reed insisted he take a break, and Sue ushered him to get out of the house normally like Ben does, so he’s trying. Because he can’t stay cooped up in his room forever, and because seeing his family with their powers working normally, treating him like he’s made of glass, is worse.
H.E.R.B.I.E approaches him as he struggles to leave the building, and with one last glance at the robot and a deep breath, he braves himself to go out there and… blend in.
The goal, Sue said, is to find something he likes. Something new. He argued that he liked flying, space, fire—but that clearly isn’t working. So now he has to find something else. Something that’s not related to work. Something like—
Coffee. Johnny stops in his tracks, spotting a quaint coffee shop in the corner, empty enough for him to not be recognized. He doesn’t even like coffee. He thinks the taste is bitter, and God knows he doesn’t need caffeine, but something about this cafe pulls him in. The thought of slipping inside and away from the city too tempting.
Before he can second-guess himself, he takes his sunglasses off and goes in.
The place is almost empty, there are only a few older gentlemen in the corner, a mom and her kid sitting in the couch area, and then there’s you, the barista, whose eyes light up when the bell over the door jingles. You brighten at the sight of a new customer.
“Good morning,” You greet Johnny with a smile, “What can I get you today?”
Johnny glances between you and the menu, “Um… I don’t… normally drink coffee, this is kind of new to me…”
“That’s okay, I’m happy to help out,” You beam, “Do you want to go classic with an Americano, or something sweet with caramel and milk?”
“Definitely something sweet,” Johnny answers immediately.
“Great, one caramel latte it is,” You write his order on a cup, “That’ll be $4.25, and I’ll have your drink ready soon.”
“Thanks.” Johnny hands over the cash and smiles politely before sitting by the bar area, a clear view of you making his drink.
He wonders if the cafe is yours, or if maybe you’ve worked here forever. The way you move behind the counter, knowing exactly what to do, fascinates him. You make it look effortless. Effortless in a way he hasn’t felt in weeks.
It doesn’t help that you’re gorgeous. And for once, Johnny doesn’t feel like flirting. He just… watches, unable to take his eyes off you.
“Hey kiddo!” One of the elderly men, Jack, tries to get your attention, “Two more espressos for me and Robby. And a slice of that lemon cheesecake in his bill. I’m about to checkmate his ass.”
Robby only grumbles without looking up from the chessboard.
You laugh under your breath and nod. “Coming right up.”
Johnny watches the exchange, oddly charmed by the warmth of it, before the flicker of a TV mounted in the corner pulls his attention; JOHNNY STORM: FLAME OFF?
“Folks it’s no secret that the Human Torch has been struggling with his powers lately. We saw him last week unable to extinguish fires from a burning home, when usually it would be a piece of cake. What has happened to the Storm brother? Is he losing his powers—”
Johnny groans under his breath and drags his cap lower over his face. He can practically feel his stomach sink, until a glass is set gently in front of him.
“Hope you like it,” You smile, “And let me know if you’d like some more caramel.”
Johnny straightens at once, caught off guard by the brightness in your voice. He looks at the drink; a tall glass of latte, crowned with whipped cream and caramel drizzle. For the first time all week, his chest eases just a little.
He takes a sip of the latte, and blinks in surprise. It’s smooth, rich, and sweet, completely different from how Ben makes his coffee. He’s only tried it once, but he was so horrified by it he doesn’t dare touch it again.
When he glances back up, you’re watching him with that hopeful look in your eyes.
“So, is it to your liking?” You ask.
“Best coffee I’ve ever had.” Johnny says honestly. And when your smile widens, bright enough to make the room feel warmer, he swears his heart skips a beat.
“Well I’m glad you like it.” You smile bashfully and move to prepare the older men’s order, and Johnny stares after you longer than he should.
Johnny also doesn’t fail to notice that the TV is now miraculously off.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Johnny never thought he’d be the kind of guy who frequents a coffee shop. But somehow, here he is again. And again. And again.
At first, it was just curiosity. Then it became a distraction. Now, a week later, it’s a habit. Every morning, without fail, Johnny finds himself pushing open the glass door, the bell chiming as if announcing his arrival just for you, and you always beam at him from behind the counter. And every damn time, it makes something in his chest feel lighter.
“Morning,” Johnny greets first.
“Good morning,” You nod at him, “Caramel latte again today?”
He hums, “I’m thinking about changing it up. What do you think I’d like?”
You raise a brow, “Adventurous, are we?”
Johnny chuckles. “Sue says I need to try different stuff, so…”
You nod in understanding, “Well, how about I make you one as a surprise?”
Now it’s Johnny’s turn to raise a brow. “Alright, I look forward to it.”
Johnny sits by the bar as he usually does, his cap now sitting on the side, and nods his head at Jack and Robby, who nods back before resuming their chess. Johnny goes back to staring at you as you make his coffee.
He’s learned quite a lot about you in the week he’s been coming over. He now knows you own the cafe, and in the early mornings, it’s usually just the two elderly men, Jack and Robby, and sometimes the mom and her kid. It gets busier throughout the day, so Johnny always makes sure to leave before office break time starts, so that no one would see him.
He also knows how you like your coffee, though he has no idea how to make it. He knows you like cheesecake and loves making them. That you love pets but have yet to own one. And that you’ve been making coffee for over five years.
Johnny feels a smile tug on his lips as you bring him his coffee. It’s a shorter glass, with milk on the bottom and what looks to be frothy coffee on top.
“So what is your masterpiece this time?” Johnny asks, “Wait, do I stir the drink—I stir it, right?”
You chuckle, “Yes, Johnny, you stir it. It’s Dalgona coffee. It’s milk with whipped coffee. Kind of like a reversed latte.”
Johnny only nods, having no understanding of what you just said, but after stirring, he drinks it, and nods in acknowlegment.
“Yeah?” You question.
He hums, “Yeah. This is delicious.”
“Better than a caramel latte?”
Johnny hesitates, “…I’ll get back to you on that.”
You laugh again, and the sound makes his grin tug wider.
“You’re really good at this,” Johnny says after a while. “Was this always the dream? Running your own café?”
You shrug, nose scrunched, stuck between pride and nostalgia, “Not exactly. I wanted to be a singer once.”
“A singer?” Johnny’s eyebrow raises. “You sing?”
“…I used to.” You smile, “I’d sing in weddings, bars, any gig I could find. But it just didn’t happen for me. And so I went for the next best thing. It’s not what I thought my life would look like, but… I don’t hate it.”
His jaw twitches. “You ever think it’ll come back? That feeling?”
You keep your gaze on him, a longing smile across your lips as the memories come flashing back in pieces. “It never really goes away.”
Johnny has a feeling you’re not just talking about yourself there.
“And you?” You ask, “You always wanted to be a superhero?”
“I just really wanted to be an astronaut. The hero stuff is pure chance… and well, now, a full-time job I’m struggling with.” He continues, voice low, almost ashamed, “Without the fire… I don’t know who I am. I mean, yeah, I’m still me, but… I guess I just realized I’m nothing without it. And if I can’t do it anymore, I don’t know if people even want me around.”
“What about the Johnny before the fire?” You ask, “What’s he like?”
“Pretty much the same,” Johnny sighs, staring at his hands, hoping that they’ll light up—but they don’t. “Loved space, loved adrenaline… I still do, it’s just that they’re reminding me of what I’ve—what I’m struggling with.”
You hum in acknowledgment, “I see where the whole ‘I need to find something new I like’ is coming from now.”
“Yeah,” Johnny chuckles.
“Well…” You ponder, “What have you tried?”
The corners of his lips frowns a bit while he shrugs, “Not much, just… running, swimming… tried reading but I hate it… and your coffee. Which is by far, my favorite thing.”
That earns him a genuine smile from you. You fidget with your fingers. “Wanna try making it?”
Johnny’s eyes widen, “Me? Make coffee?”
“It’s not that hard.” You shrug and you beckon him over to behind the counter, “come on.”
He hesitates, but also can’t hide the excitement in his eyes.
Johnny circles around the counter like he’s stepping into some sacred space. He watches you carefully as you pull out the portafilter, his brow furrowed like you’ve just handed him alien technology.
“Okay,” you say, gesturing to the machine, “step one: coffee grounds. Try not to spill them everywhere.”
“Step one: don’t screw up,” Johnny mutters under his breath, but his grin betrays him.
You guide his hand as he tamps the coffee down, and he glances sideways at you, unable to hide the blush creeping up to his cheeks when he feels your hand on his.
He then clears his throat to lighten the mood. “You know, I’ve flown a jet into orbit, but this feels way more high pressure.”
“Mm-hm, sure,” you tease. “Astronaut, superhero, and now—barista in training. Quite the résumé.”
He laughs, and the sound is freer than you’ve heard it in weeks. When the espresso finally drips into the cup, it’s uneven, watery, and Johnny beams like he’s just conquered Everest.
“Not bad, right?” he asks, holding it up proudly.
You wrinkle your nose. “Why don’t you taste it first?”
Johnny takes a sip of the espresso and immediately winces, both because he hates the taste and it is probably bad coffee. “Delicious! Best coffee I’ve ever had.” He says as the coffee burns his throat.
You burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet shop, and for a moment Johnny just watches you, unable to hide his grin.
When the sound fades, you catch him staring and suddenly feel your cheeks warm.
“What?” you ask softly.
He shrugs, setting the cup down. “Nothing. Just… feels good. Being here. With you.”
And you don’t know how to answer, not without giving yourself away, so instead you nudge the cup back toward him with a small smile.
“Congratulations, Johnny. You’ve officially made the worst coffee in the shop.”
His grin spreads wider, unbothered. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep practicing.”
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Johnny keeps coming back every day for lessons ever since then. It’s nothing serious, he’s only doing it for fun, and because he gets to spend time with you. And he doesn’t just learn how to make coffee, sometimes you teach him how to bake, particularly cheesecakes.
And now, heading off into the night, after 3 cheesecake attempts later, Johnny finally nails it.
“Johnny, this is it,” You say as you taste the cheesecake he made.
He chuckles with a roll of his eyes, “Yeah, sure,”
“No, really,” You cut a piece with your fork and feed him.
Johnny takes a bite of the cheesecake and a smile slowly spreads across his face. “That’s pretty damn good.”
“Right??” You grin, put the fork down, and give him a hug, “You did amazing! Good job, Johnny.”
You don’t realize you’re hugging him until he physically tenses, and you push yourself off him.
“Sorry, I didn’t—I got so excited I—” You lose your words, warmth creeps up your cheeks as you stammer and try to look anywhere else but at him.
Before you can retreat any further, Johnny reaches out and tugs you back into a proper hug. Warmth floods through you at the unexpected closeness, your cheek brushing against his collarbone. For a moment, neither of you move, just breathing in sync.
You tip your head back nervously, and that’s when you notice how close his face is to yours. His usual spark of mischief flickers there, but beneath it is something more vulnerable. The world seems to hold its breath as his gaze drops to your lips.
You don’t know who leans in first, but the kiss is soft, sweet, unhurried, and impossibly gentle. You can practically feel your heartbeat in your ears.
When you part, Johnny keeps his forehead pressed to yours, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Best damn cheesecake reward I’ve ever had.”
You laugh softly, flustered but unable to hide your own smile. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late,” he murmurs, pulling you close again.
Your arms raise to loop around his neck, when a sudden cry makes you both break apart, wondering where the noise is coming from.
More cries echo from outside, and your heart sinks, but Johnny’s instincts take over.
“Stay here,” he tells you quickly, already moving toward the door.
“Johnny—” You start, but he’s gone, pushing outside into the cool night air. You follow him to the sidewalk, just close enough to see the commotion: a man shouting for help beside a smoking car that’s clearly just been in a wreck, and the driver stuck in his seat. The hood hisses, sparks catching, a high chance of things going south quick.
For a beat, Johnny freezes. You see the hesitation, the memory of his failure. But then his jaw sets, and something shifts inside him.
“C’mon, c’mon…” he mutters, staring at his hands. And then fire bursts to life through his skin, rolling up his arms, dancing like it never left him.
Your chest swells with relief as Johnny rushes forward, searing through the metal that was trapping the man, and shields him with his body as he brings him to safety.
The man stares at him in shock, breathless. “T-thank you. Thank you so much.”
Johnny’s grin is small, a little shaky. “No problem.”
From where you stand, you can’t look away. Not from the fire blazing in his hands, not from the way his eyes shine brighter than his flames. He looks whole.
You stay on to the sidewalk, your hands gripping your apron as tight as a lifeline. Neighbors rush in, clapping Johnny on the back, thanking him. The man he saved can’t stop praising him, eyes wide with gratitude. Johnny just laughs it off, rubbing the back of his neck, but you can see him glowing. Not just because he got his powers back, but from the validation, the reminder that he still is a hero.
Before you can move closer, before you can even think of calling his name, the rest of the Fantastic Four swoops in. His family. They give him pats on the back, hugs that relieve him, and Johnny grins, glad that he’s back.
The paparazzis arrive next. It gets crowded too fast, and Johnny barely gets a chance to look around, to maybe find you in the crowd, before Sue’s hand lands on his arm. “We need to go, Johnny.”
Johnny hesitates, his eyes scanning the street—but the flashes are too blinding, and he has no choice but to leave.
You stand there long after they’re gone, his flames still burning in your memory, the warmth of his lips still fresh on yours. And you smile, maybe bitterly, because that might’ve been the last time you ever see him.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
It’s been four days.
You tell yourself you’re not counting. You’re happy for him—of course you are. The city needs the Human Torch, and now that his powers are back, Johnny has stepped into the spotlight again like he never left. He’s on every channel, every newspaper headline. You don’t even have to look for his name; it finds you on the mounted TV, or in the whispers of your customers.
And every time you see him grinning into the cameras, cracking jokes, flying through the sky… there’s this little pang in your chest you can’t quite brush off.
You’re wiping down a table when Robby finally breaks the silence.
“You’re awful quiet today,” he says, peering at you over the rim of his mug.
“Oh it’s just one of those days,” You sigh.
“No, no,” Jack chimes, “I know that look.”
He taps the morning paper with one finger. Johnny’s face blazing on the front page, hands lifted mid-flight. “You miss him.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, dropping your gaze. “Yeah… I think I like him more than I should. It’s stupid.”
“Kid, in all my years of knowing you,” Robby starts, “You are not one to talk down about yourself. You’re not stupid for liking him. Or missing him.”
You sigh, continue cleaning in hopes that it would distract you. “Everyone likes him.”
“Yeah, but you don’t see him going to all the other cafes in town every day,” Jack argues, “He comes back to your cafe every day. Now what does that tell you?”
Your mind replays to the night you kissed. To where he had his hands on your waist, his soft lips— You shake your head to snap out of it. You know they’re right. You’re just a little disappointed because you haven’t heard from him in days.
He’s busy, probably has a ton of work to do for all the time he’s missed. So you understand. You just—
Your head snaps up when you hear the jingle from the entrance of your cafe. You’ve done this a hundred times in the past four days, looked up too fast you might’ve given yourself whiplash, only to be disappointed when it’s not Johnny.
But this time… this time it’s a familiar head of blonde hair, a pair of blue eyes, and a nervous smile that shakes you to your core.
It’s Johnny.
“Hey,” he says softly, like it’s just the two of you in the whole café.
Your lips part, and you can only manage a; “Hey.”
Johnny takes a step towards you, hands behind his back. “I’m sorry I disappeared. Things got busy and I—”
You shake your head quickly. “Don’t apologize. I get it. You’re—” your eyes flick toward the TV mounted in the corner, his name splashed across the news ticker even now, “—you’re busy saving the world again.”
He smiles, reaching for your hand. “Yeah, but I missed this. I… I missed you.”
You laugh under your breath, the sound shaky. “Well, I’m always here, Johnny. Whenever you need me.”
Johnny’s thumb brushes over your knuckles, “You made me feel normal. Made me feel like I’m me again… even without the fire. With you, I don’t have to be that guy—” he motions to the TV, “—always on fire, always running around… I can just be Johnny. You accept me. All of me.”
You grasp his hand, eyes wide and hopeful, and Johnny is smiling because he misses that look so much. The way you look at him like he’s your world, and the way he mirrors that look perfectly.
“I kept hoping,” You admit, voice small, “Every time that bell rang, I wanted it to be you. I missed you too, Johnny.”
He leans just a little closer, his breath catching.
“Can I—” he starts, but doesn’t finish the question.
You answer it anyway by tilting forward, closing the space between you. His lips are warm, and then more sure when he feels you melt into it. His hand cups your jaw gently, while the other circles around your waist.
“Fucking finally…” You hear Jack mutter and you break the kiss, realizing that it’s not just the two of you in the cafe.
“Way to ruin the mood, guys.” Johnny says jokingly.
“Kids these days,” Robby laughs. “Get a room before this old man gets a heart attack.”
Johnny shakes his head and turns back to you, kissing your hand. “Will you go out with me?”
You laugh. “We’ve made out twice now, Johnny. You better take me out.”
He smiles, forehead touching yours, when suddenly the door behind him opens, pushing him forward.
“Whoops, sorry there, Sparkles.” Ben enters your cafe.
You cover your mouth at the nickname, trying not to laugh.
Johnny glances at you with a ‘how dare you’ look. “What are you doing here, Ben?”
“Oh, we just wanted to know where you’ve been running off too for the past weeks.” Sue’s familiar voice booms behind Ben.
“This is a nice place. Cozy.” Reed follows not long after.
You blink in surprise, your cafe suddenly livelier than it’s ever been. Your grip on Johnny’s arm tightens.
“Guys, you’re freaking her out, okay? One at a time, please.” Johnny says, almost hiding you behind him.
Sue pushes past him and goes to hug you. “I cannot thank you enough for being there for Johnny.”
“I—It’s nothing, really.” Your shaky hands try to hug her back. “He keeps me company.”
Sue lets you go momentarily. “I also heard that you make amazing cheesecake. I’d love to try some.”
Sue smiles knowingly as you stammer out options for the cheesecake flavors. Reed is already halfway lost in asking you about your espresso machine, Ben is making himself comfortable like he owns the place, and Robby and Jack are chuckling in the corner, entertained by the whole spectacle.
It’s loud, and overwhelming, and yet, Johnny always finds you. His hand lingers against yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles like a silent reassurance.
You glance up at him, the noise fading to the background as you smile at each other, knowing your lives would be very different from here on out.
