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forgottenknightcreates · 7 hours ago

Text

Two heartbeats

Pairing: Johnny Storm x reader Word Count: 4.9k

Description: You agree to help Reed test his new baby scanner for Sue, so he can collect some baseline data from a non–pregnant woman. But when the screen lights up with a tiny heartbeat, you realize you’ve got some crazy news to break to Johnny.

Tags/warnings: established relationship, mildly soft Reed, Johnny hovering, accidentally finding a pregnancy, panicking over it, comfort, Johnny finding out, fluff, funny and domestic moments <3

Note: all I can say is writing this was so entertaining and heartwarming, there’s just something about the idea of Johnny being a dad😭. Hope you enjoy! 🫶🏼

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The bright lab was mostly quiet, except for the soft humming sound coming from the machine next to you. You sat perched on the edge of a white, medical style platform that looked more intimidating than it probably was. Reed sat on a stool to your left, completely focused on adjusting the controls of his latest invention, a fancy scanner meant for prenatal imaging. You were there as his control subject, since he needed to "create a baseline from a non gestational female", his words. Sue's scan was scheduled for later, if everything worked as expected.

Or at least, that was the plan.

"Alright. The scanner is all set, I'm ready when you are," Reed announced, turning around halfway on his stool to look at you through his thick frame glasses. "Are you comfortable there?"

"I am, actually," you smiled, settling back until your full body rested on the soft leather surface, which, surprisingly, began to warm slowly beneath you. "It's ... warm."

A smile almost ghosted his mouth, but he turned back to the sphered monitor before it could fully form. “Sue tends to get cold in here. I believe adding this feature will make her more inclined to agree to my scans.”

You only gave him a knowing smile. Reed was… Reed, after all.

He wasn’t always able to express care with words, his sentences were more likely to contain statistics or hyper logical reasoning about even the tiniest of details no one noticed or cared about, but his actions spoke louder than words. It was all about the little accommodations, the quiet fixes, the way he noticed discomforts around the building before anyone voiced them. This time was no exception, he didn't think twice about adding a heating feature to the scanner’s seat when his wife had complained about the lab feeling like a freezer last time.

"I bet it's not warmer than me, though," a voice chimed in next to you, and you couldn't help but chuckle.

Ah, yes … Johnny.

Your ever loving boyfriend, who couldn’t stand being more than ten minutes away from you and insisted on being present for this “fake scan” so he could practice holding your hand for future real ones.

Because in his mind, you were in his future that way, not a single doubt about that.

The baby making. Especially, the baby making. The big surprise. The bun in the oven. The endless scans for ultrasound pictures he’d stick to the glass windows of your shared bedroom. The restless nights outweighed by the giggles from a little him ... a little you.

Not today, but maybe one day.

Definitely one day.

And in that hothead of his, he thought what better preparation than watching his brother in law micromanage Sue’s pregnancy through you? At least he could have a little fun with it.

So, naturally, Johnny invited himself to the session. Dragging an extra stool to the lab, sliding on your right side, elbows braced on the platform. His hand found yours as soon as you set your body down.

"You know I can warm you up anytime you want, babe," Johnny shrugged innocently, but his tone was playful as always.

You turned to him amused, a smile already on his face as he leaned definitely way too close to your face, and quickly stole a peck from your lips, earning a soft laugh from you.

Reed sighed next to you, wishing he'd asked you to try the machine in the early hours of the morning before Johnny even woke up. It was his fault after all, he should've known better than bringing it up in front on him. Now he'd have to make it work while you got distracted by ... your distraction.

You instantly noticed his demeanor shift, and gently slipped your hand from Johnny's grasp to lay it flat on the bed, blowing a kiss to him when he opened his mouth to complain. He instantly grinned in triumph, pretending to catch it and placed it over his heart. At least that would keep his hands to himself for a moment.

"All ready now, Reed," you said, offering him an apologetic smile, and he nodded.

"Okay, we're ready to begin. Please just don’t talk," Reed said, his eyes on the display as he pressed buttons, "and try to avoid any unnecessary movement, both of you," he turned slightly, looking over his glasses to glare at your hovering boyfriend.

Which was, unfortunately, a straight dare for Johnny to lean closer against the platform beside you, the corner of his mouth curving into a grin.

"You hear that babe? No unnecessary movement. Don't breathe, not even a little," he said in the most serious tone he could use. "... except if you wanna, you know, lean on me a little," he winked, then nudged your shoulder with his. “I wouldn’t mind.”

You tried not to smile this time when he wiggled his eyebrows, for the sake of the test and the remaining of Reed's sanity, which only made him grin wider.

"Johnny," Reed scolded without looking up, "I need her still, and I need quiet so I can concentrate."

"Hey, I'm just here to supervise," Johnny protested. "Make sure you're not poking her with anything weird."

If there was something Johnny loved almost as much as you and space, it was rage baiting his brother in law. And the worst part was, that no matter how incredibly intelligent Reed was, it seemed to work every single time.

"I'm not poking her with anything,” Reed snapped, sighing afterward. "Can you at least step back a little so I can–"

"Nuh-uh, not a chance in the world," Johnny interrupted. "I'm here for emotional support, you know, a dad being present –Ow. Babe!" you elbowed him lightly in the ribs, which made him gasp.

"First of all, you're not a father. This is purely for data gathering purposes," Reed objected without missing a beat, "and you're only here because you followed her in.”

"Yeah yeah, semantics, whatever," Johnny shrugged, raising a hand to dismiss him and turned to you. "Hey, you hungry, princess? I could get you something."

"I'm fine, Johnny," you shook your head, smiling at the gesture, then raising your hand to press a finger on his lips. "Now, shh."

You caught Reed rubbing the bridge of his nose, muttering something about how he should have asked literally any other woman in the planet who didn't have Johnny Storm joint at their hip.

"The sequence is starting now. I just need five minutes," he sighed for the fourth time in three minutes, and then pressed a few more buttons, his posture stiffening. "Please Johnny, just five, no more talking."

"Alright, alright. I can be quiet for five minutes," he raised his hands in surrender, finally leaning back.

It lasted five whole seconds.

"So," he began, leaning toward you again. "Tell me about the first time you saw me."

You sighed at the question Johnny liked to ask at least once a week. You were happy to answer it every time, just not in front of his brother in law. So you put a hand on his chest to push him back a little, before Reed's patience snapped completely.

"Johnny, angel, you know what? Actually I am hungry," you said, playing with the fabric of his shirt. "I am craving some oranges."

"Oranges?" Johnny's whole demeanor shifted, still grinning, but now with that eagerness to please you sparkling in his eyes.

"Yes, fresh ones," you nodded, slightly biting your lip. "Pretty please?"

“You got it, fresh ones from the market," he grabbed your hand from his chest and placed a kiss on it, making you chuckle once again.

Why was he so annoyingly sweet?

Satisfied with your reaction, he got up from his stool, the little seat's wheels rolling back as he made his way to the elevator's doors. Not without turning around halfway, looking at you while pointing accusingly at Reed.

"Don't let him poke you with needles or draw blood from you. I will sue," then he winked at you, backing to the elevator. "Give me five minutes, ten tops."

And after a shameless wink, the elevator doors slid closed, and he was gone. Leaving a very relieved Reed alone with his scan and you trying very hard not to laugh at the way he exhaled like he'd been holding his breath under water this whole time.

"Thank you," he said genuinely, turning back to his controls. You just hummed in acknowledgment.

You held your breath as the machine made a louder hum, a halo of pale blue light swept over you from head to toe.

"You can breathe normally," Reed said, noticing your stillness. "Just don't move anything else, please."

You let your gaze wander over the colorful room while the scanner did the work. There were gadgets on every counter, Sue's latest ultrasound printed and stuck on the corner of Reed's giant blackboard, a mug that said 'Fantastic dad' that Johnny told Ben to buy Reed as a joke but he wholeheartedly gave it to the man. You smiled at the memory.

The thought of Sue and Reed’s baby being there in a just a months was amazing and terrifying at the same time, and it wasn’t even yours.

And now that Johnny wasn't hovering anymore, and Reed's focus was solely on the screen in front of him, the quiet of the room allowed you to think about what Johnny said earlier.

'A dad being present'

There was a time where you thought something like that was impossible due to his altered DNA, but Sue and Reed had shown you the possibility was still there.

And the more you thought about it, the more it made you want to build that with Johnny. It wasn't a crazy idea, not at all, but it was something you'd projected into the far future.

Definitely one day.

"Huh," Reed's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his eyebrows furrowed as he leaned closer to the screen.

"Something wrong with the machine?" you asked, trying to not make a big fuss about it, it was a new equipment after all.

He didn't answer immediately. Just tapped his keyboard twice, then leaned even closer, eyes squinting and his whole expression sharpening. The scanner made another low pass over your midsection.

"Hmm," there it was, another weird monosyllable.

"That's a suspicious 'hmm'," you said, sitting up a bit straighter.

"Not suspicious at all," Reed said quickly. "Just interesting ... please lean back down, it's not done."

His fingers moved over the console again, adjusting settings. The scanner passed over you once more, slower this time, and you noticed a small, unconscious shift in his posture. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, blinked at the display, then adjusted the image like maybe the machine had made a mistake.

Again.

"Okay, you're being really weird now. Even for you, Reed," you half joked, hoping that would ease the sudden nerves invading your body.

"I just … wasn't expecting to see–" he paused, hesitating, glancing toward the door as if Johnny might burst in at any second.

"See what?" you pressed, fully panicking now.

The machine beeped softly with results for the third time, like it was confirming whatever he'd already noticed the first. Then Reed suddenly stood up from his stool and paced in his spot, folding his arms.

"There are certain... biological markers. In fact, they're very specific markers. I'd like to run the scan one more time to confirm."

"No. No more scans," you fully sat up now, suddenly understanding Sue's dread of those. "Just tell me, is there something wrong with me?"

Your tone actually made him jerk his head in your direction, shaking his head profusely.

"No," his voice was quiet but certain. Not comforting either, though. "No, absolutely not."

"Then what is it?"

Reed hesitated, eyes fixing back on the screen. "It's... actually the opposite," he said slowly. His voice wasn't that detached this time, it was still Reed, still cautious, but there was something... warmer underneath.

"Something right, then?"

"Quiet for a moment," he mumbled, pressing the console again. "I want to be sure."

So you stayed still, your heartbeat ringing a little faster in your ears. The scanner made one last pass over your body, beeping one last time with the same results apparently, because Reed stepped back, took a long breath, and blinked a few times like he was pulling himself back into the room with you.

He wasn't exactly expecting to be the first to find out about... that. Now how on earth was he supposed to break news like that? None of his infinite doctorates qualified him to do so.

Reed stalled for a few more seconds, before reaching to the sphere monitor and rotating it in your direction.

"Look at that," he said, pointing to the screen, his voice slightly softer than usual.

On the screen, a small flicker pulsed steadily in the center of a grainy blue and white colored image. You stared at it for a few seconds.

Was that? … No. No it couldn't be.

"...My heartbeat?" you chuckled weakly, because the alternative your head was suggesting was just not possible.

Not right now. Definitely not right now.

Reed arched a brow, his gaze instantly softening. He knew how this part felt. The first moments of denial. The surreality of it. So he approached it as gentle as his capabilities allowed him to.

None of his education had prepared him for something like this, but you were family, even more so now, so he tried his best to use his heart this time instead of his brain. As absurd as that sounded to someone like him.

"It is a heartbeat, and technically, it's yours too. Or, well, more like a part of you."

You stared at it again. That flicker. The steady, insistent beat. You knew what it meant, of course you did, but the words got stuck in your throat and refused to come out.

"Look," Reed took off his glasses, pointing with the frames higher up in the torso scan. "Your heartbeat is here," and then pointed back lower, "and this one is smaller ... much smaller."

Reed studied your face as you kept quiet, something warm blooming in his chest despite his usually clinical nature.

Two 'fantastic babies' this year. Huh. He hadn't seen that coming. Couldn't have predicted it with equations in a million years.

"Okay," you said finally, too casually.

"Just okay?" Reed almost chuckled this time. "You do understand what I'm showing you, correct?"

"Yeah. I... yeah," you nodded slowly, letting out a deep breath. "I'm ..."

But you didn't say it. Couldn't. Because saying it out loud would make it real. And right now, you weren't ready for real. Not without Johnny by your side.

Right. Johnny.

Who wasn't there to hold your hand through it.

Oh my God. How were you gonna tell him?

He was, after all, your emotional support. But who was gonna be his when you were panicking? Oh my god. What if he panics too? Would he be ready? Would you be ready?

All of a sudden, that 'one day' wasn't so far away anymore.

You didn't even notice your breathing had gone shallow until Reed's voice caught your attention.

"Breathe," he said, not commanding, more like a reminder.

"I am breathing," you looked up at him, chest going up and down rapidly.

"Not enough," he replied. Then, in a move that was so unlike him, he reached for your hand. His palms were warm, not as warm as the ones you were used to, but it helped somehow. His hands pressing yours just enough to let you know he wasn't letting go unless you wanted him to.

"Follow me," he said. He took a slow inhale, visibly lifting his chest, and let it out in a slow exhale. "Again."

You tried your best. Inhale. Exhale. It died in your throat halfway out a few times. But he waited, patient as ever, until you tried again. And again. Until the fifth breath felt a little less jagged.

"It's normal to be scared," he said, when your breathing slowed down. "When Sue told me she was pregnant, I–I almost passed out. And that was after two years of planning for it."

Instantly realizing what he confessed, he cleared his throat, before looking at you more serious for a moment.

"Don't tell Johnny," he asked.

A shaky laugh escaped you, and it loosened something in your chest. You shook your head in reassurance. He nodded grateful.

"I know this is... a big pill to swallow. Terrifying, even. But it doesn't have to be faced alone."

Your eyes got glassy before you could stop them.

"We're all a family," Reed continued, repeating what was always said by the others, not much by him, if ever. "Which means your child will never have to go without place to feel like home, or without love. Not with all of us around."

A tear did fall from on your cheek this time, and you let go of his grip to wipe it before Johnny came back.

Oh, Johnny.

Just thinking about him being a father, a dad who is present, his blonde disheveled hair at midnight as he warms baby bottles with his own hands, a tiny bundle sleeping on his chest enjoying the impossible warmth irradiating from his skin. Him playing peek a boo with the funniest faces he can think of.

And for the first time since you saw that flicker on the screen, you believed, if only for a second, that maybe this wouldn't be the end of the world.

"I'm pregnant," you finally said it, the foreign words leaving your lips in a whisper.

Reed's eyes softened, the smallest smile forming in his mouth.

"You're pregnant," he echoed, just as quietly, like repeating it would help you both absorb the reality. He straightened a little, half turning to his machine. "I'd still like to make some more formal scans–"

"Reed."

"I know, I know. Sorry," he apologized, letting out a dry chuckle while shrugging, "but it's ... protocol."

"I'm telling you, Herbert, those oranges were not fresh. That guy was totally lying ... Yeah right? I know. Unbelievable."

Your head snapped at the sound of HERBIE's robotic beeps and Johnny's muffled voice echoing behind the elevator doors, as they arrived to the lab's floor.

"–and so I had to use my charm on the girl next to him, one smile and she went straight to get me the good ones ... I know Herbert, I know, but you have to do what you have to do."

The doors slid open in a ding, revealing a very excited Johnny walking in, toying with an orange from one hand to another as HERBIE trailed behind him holding something you couldn't see from your seat.

"Ah, there you are." Johnny smiled as soon as his eyes landed on you, "now, what did I miss?"

You looked at Reed for a brief second, at the verge of panicking again, but he mouthed a 'just breathe', gesturing with his hand a swift inhale. So you did that, as Johnny crossed the lab until he got to the stool he was previously sat in, with the little droid following him like a lost puppy.

"Got 'em! Did you miss me, babe?" he asked, plopping into his seat.

"I always do," you mumbled, absentmindedly reaching to the orange he was holding, to try to distract yourself with something. "Thank you, Johnny–"

Before you could reach, he yanked back his hand with a laugh. "Don't be silly, this one is for me. Here–"

He turned halfway to HERBIE behind him, and grabbed with his free hand something from the droid's hands, petting his metal head before turning back to offer it to you.

You lowered your eyes at the plate he was holding to you. Probably two oranges, sliced, and placed nicely around the dish. The citrus scent hit you and half scratched that itch you've been having about oranges lately, which ... made a lot of sense now.

"These are for you, bite sized. I'm gonna tell you now, got the best ones in the city," he leaned down to kiss your forehead, and added with a cocky grin, "go on, tell me I'm amazing."

He was. God, he was.

But it wasn’t the oranges what hit you the most, it was the way Johnny went about it. How you wouldn't need to feel scared, or not ready, when he was willing to take on even the smallest of requests with intention, just to put a smile on your face.

So you couldn't hold it together any longer, and lunged forward to wrap your arms around his neck, the plate of oranges falling from his hand to your lap, small slices scattering across the platform. You buried your head in his neck, not being able to hold the tears anymore. Johnny instinctively wrapped his arms around your body, a hand still holding his orange for dear life as he stared confused at Reed.

“Woah– what happened baby?” he asked softly, bringing his free hand to stroke your hair as you cried into his chest. “What did you do, Richards?” His tone got weirdly serious now, even for Johnny.

“Me? N-nothing!” Reed blurted offended, which only made Johnny glare at him.

“Did Reed lecture you about moving during the scan? I told you, babe, you don’t have to listen to him when I’m not here.”

Reed’s mouth opened to protest, but chose to keep quiet. He glanced at you, still clinging to Johnny for dear life. He took a deep breath. He knew what this was like, so he just let Johnny continue until you chose to tell him.

“She was okay when I left, and now she’s crying in my arms –hey hey, it’s okay baby– so what could have possibly happened while I was gone?”

His tone to Reed was serious, but when he looked down at you it got incredibly softer. You sniffed a few times, pulling apart from him to wipe your eyes and give him a teary smile.

“I’m fine, Johnny, really,” you reassured, sniffing again, “It’s just … I don’t–“ you looked at Reed, nodding at him so he could help you a little.

Reed took off his glasses, and folded his hands behind his back in that way that meant ‘I’m about to say something big and I’m choosing my words carefully’. You just kept your gaze on Johnny.

“The scan revealed some … unexpected results.”

Well, so much for choosing your words carefully.

“Unexpected like… bad unexpected, or ‘hey, you have an extra kidney’ unexpected?” Johnny asked, squinting.

“Having an extra kidney would be bad unexpected too, Johnny,”

“We could always get it out and sell it,” he shrugged, rolling his eyes playfully to make you laugh, and when you inevitably did, relief washed over his face for a second.

Okay, it couldn’t be that bad if he was able to make you laugh after that breakdown. His heart could calm down a little now.

“Well, actually… neither,” Reed said.

His gaze shifted between the two of you before settling on the monitor that was still facing your direction. Johnny glanced at the screen, still expecting to see that third kidney. Instead, he tilted his head and his eyebrows pulled together.

“Huh,” he exhaled.

Funny, his first reaction was identical to Reed’s.

You watched him stare at the screen, and you could almost see the gears turning under all that blonde hair. Because Johnny Storm was a lot of things, loud, playful, endlessly distracting, but he was also sharp. And he wasn’t missing what was right in front of him.

Two heartbeats.

“Is uh– Is that what I think…?” his eyes flicked to you, you were already smiling, still glassy eyed holding the lump in your throat. “Oh my god.”

His mouth fell open a little, eyes darting between Reed, you and the small flicker on the screen for a few times, before it hit him all at once. He finally let go of the orange in his hand, the fruit hitting the floor in a few thuds.

Johnny’s face lit up like sunlight getting through grey clouds. Even HERBIE beeped in awe.

“OH MY GOD!!”

The grin that broke over his face made your heart flutter. He cupped your face in his warm hands before you could even wipe your eyes.

“Babe. Babe,” he chanted enthusiastically, his forehead pressed to yours, voice dropping to a breathless laugh. “We’re having a baby. Oh my god! We’re having a baby! … Herbert I’m gonna be a father!”

You let out a laugh that was half sob, half immense happiness, nodding against him.

He crashed his lips to yours, salty tears mixing in your lips as he kissed you softly, lips slightly pulling back from how wide you both were smiling.

In front of you, Reed stood with his arms crossed, the loveliest smile tugging at his mouth. For once, he didn’t interrupt, didn’t feel like adding facts or disclaimers. He simply turned back to the console and gave you both the moment.

That was, until Johnny pulled apart from you, realizing how you had just lit his whole world on fire and he was more than willing to stand in the middle of all of it.

“Okay,” Johnny said, still holding your face, “this is fine. This is more than fine. This is … this is amazing.”

“Johnny, I think we should–” you began, but he was already in motion, pacing next to you.

“First of all, we need to stock on food, for all the weird pregnancy cravings you’re gonna have. You want pickles dipped in ice cream? boom, Johnny delivers,” he gestured dramatically with his hands in the air.

Reed sighed, rubbing his temple while mumbling something about Johnny speaking in third person.

“Johnny–“

“And the baby’s room. We’ll paint it… okay, we don’t know boy or girl yet, but that’s fine, we’ll go with something neutral. Like… fire yellow … no, wait, that’s too on the nose. Sky blue? Maybe it could be space themed! … babe they can go to space with us one day, maybe Reed can make a baby space suit–“

“I am not sending your baby, or any baby for that matter, to space, Johnny.” Reed interrupted flatly, wishing you could go back to hugging and not this unprompted rambling.

“Johnny, angel, maybe we should–“

“Oh, and the clothes, babe the clothes! Little tiny onesies with flames on them. Reed, you have to make them in fireproof clothing, how else is it gonna be safe for me to hold them?”

“Johnny!” you leaned forward to put your hands on his chest and gently dragged him towards you. “Can we maybe process this before we start designing the nursery?”

He stopped mid ramble, eyes fixing on yours. And for the first time since Reed dropped the news, he hesitated. “Wait, you’re… okay with this? I mean, I’m over the moon, obviously, but… are you?”

You exhaled, reaching to fix a strand of his hair. “Johnny there’s nothing I want more in this life, than to have a family with you,” you reassured, meaning every single word, “but we didn’t even know about this ten minutes ago.”

Johnny’s smile softened. He grabbed your hand and lifted it to his lips, holding a kiss there for a moment.

“Okay. We’ll do this together, slowly, as a family,” he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, and this time you were the one who jumped at his lips.

This time it was a bit rougher, clinging to him with fists clenched on his shirt, like putting all the overwhelming weight of it all into the kiss. Reed, who was still there, cleared his throat before you started making another baby right there and then. On his new scanner. That he built for his wife but now it would work for you too.

He was gonna have to get used to Johnny hovering all the time now.

“You should both take some more proper tests to confirm everything is okay with your baby, before making any further plans.”

“Yeah, yeah, Reed,” Johnny dismissed, already wrapping an arm around your waist to help you come down the platform, and guide you toward the door, but he halted midway. “Wait both? why me? I swear to god Richards, if you poke me–“

“No one is going to poke any of you here, Jonathan. Ever. I already told you, and it sure as hell won’t be me if it’s ever required,” Reed rolled his eyes, already relieved to see you both make your way to the elevator so he could work in peace.

He could only be happy for so long, before his mind inevitably went to overthink about how on earth you were all going to survive two super babies at the same time. But before he could get lost in his head, Reed turned to thank HERBIE, who was humming cheerfully to himself as he picked up the orange slices from the table. The little droid then rolled toward you, offering the plate with a chirp.

“Thank you, HERBIE,” you smiled, and Johnny pet his head in gratitude.

“Alright, we’ll do all that science stuff later, Reed. Right now…” He glanced down at you, his lovely grin back in full force. “I’m getting my girl more snacks ... and maybe also ice cream. Just in case that pickle phase hits early.”

Even behind all the joking and amusement in his face, the glint in his eyes quietly told you he was looking at the most important thing in the whole universe. Those two heartbeats.

But no, it wasn’t just two heartbeats after all.

Because with Johnny by your side, it was three.

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

Part two is on the way!

feedback is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading 🫶🏼

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forgottenknightcreates · 8 hours ago

Text

Would you still love me if I was a worm?

Pairing: Johnny Storm x reader Word Count: 2.7k

Description: There’s nothing better than making out with Johnny, until he’s exactly where you want him: breathless, flushed and distracted just enough for you to make some silly questions.

Tags/warnings: heavy make out, biting Johnny, that maroon shirt <3, making him melt, Johnny being dramatic, silly questions. No movie spoilers.

Note: Adding a new version to the worm question trend🔥Had to make this one for my boy because you know he’s a dramatic king lol. Enjoy 🫶🏼 divider by @saradika-graphics

john’s version | bucky’s version | archive | masterlist

On the rare nights Sue actually convinced Reed to go out for dinner, and Ben was probably trying to get a conversation with that lovely redhead he was crushing on, it was bliss having the whole Baxter Building to yourselves.

It was no secret you spent most of your time there in Johnny's bedroom, straddling his lap while drowning him in messy kisses, with some old record playing just loud enough to muffle the exaggerated gasps he made on purpose when you kissed his neck.

Not loud enough to muffle your giggles or your totally non exaggerated gasps, though, so his family always heard, and you'd want to hide the next morning when Ben and Sue gave you a knowing smirk.

Since you got together, and even before that, it's always been hard to keep your hands off each other. Johnny makes it particularly hard. Especially when he wears that shirt he knows you want to rip off his body as soon as you see him in it.

That goddamn maroon t-shirt.

He totally walks into a room wearing it knowing you're already thinking at least five ways to make him groan.

Funny enough, he hadn't even been the one who picked it out, it was Sue who gifted it to him a few years back. God bless his sister and her extremely good taste. Back then, it didn't fit him quite like it does today. But lord, you were grateful to the stars for how these days his toned biceps and firm chest seemed to scream against the fabric.

And how they also seemed to scream for you to get a taste. A bite. Just a little nibble to know how his muscles feel on your mouth.

And tonight? you might just listen to your intrusive thoughts. Especially since you were home alone for at least a couple of hours.

For once, being able to kiss Johnny breathlessly in the living room, not worrying about being embarrassed in front of Sue the next day after moaning her brother's name ... was perfect.

And my god, there was nothing like making out with Johnny Storm.

He'd even made the effort to set the mood. The lights are dimmed low, a slow romantic record plays softly in the background, not to conceal this time, but to enjoy. He'd even sent Herbert to count all the tools in Reed's lab so you two don't end up "traumatizing the innocent droid". And two untouched glasses of wine sat forgotten on the coffee table, because Johnny's lips tasted infinitely better.

You're lying on top of him on the couch, his back pressed to the seat's cushions. You kiss him as you grind your hips slightly, just enough to cause some friction, earning a groan for him. You smile against his mouth, nibbling his lower lip so his groan dies in your throat.

The moonlight coming through the large glass windows shines over the disheveled blonde hair you've been pulling, his red, kiss swollen lips, and the dilated pupils taking over the blue of his eyes.

Johnny's heaven. Your personal heaven.

His tight maroon shirt is surprisingly still on, but your hands are under it anyways. Your fingertips trace the heat of his abs, going up over the lines of his ribs, barely grazing his chest just to feel him melt under you. His hands travel all over your thighs, your waist, your ass, anywhere he can reach under the fabric, wishing he could burn all the clothes still covering your body.

Your hands push his shirt up further, enjoying every inch of hot skin. You don't bother pulling it over his head yet, you're too focused on the way his muscles flex under your touch, on the way he grips your hips like he's barely holding on.

"God, you taste so good," he mumbles, voice ragged between kisses.

"Better than wine?" you tease, brushing your lips over his before he can pull you back in.

"Better than anything," he says, catching your mouth again like he can't stand the distance.

In between kisses he looks up at you, with that half lidded gaze he only gets when he's totally at your mercy.

Perfect.

Without a second thought, you lean down and bite his pec through the dark fabric.

"Hey, kinky!" He gasps, laughing, lifting his head from the couch to find you looking up with innocent eyes. "Are you trying to mark your territory?" he teases, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Don't need to mark what's already mine," you mumble, leaning down to bite the other pec, a little harder, keeping your eyes on him the whole time.

Johnny lets out a low whistle, dropping his head back dramatically, one arm drapes over his eyes like he can't bear the pleasure. You laugh at his reaction, now nibbling the forearm shielding his face. He let out a groan.

You know he loves that.

One time you caught him low key checking in the mirror to see if you left any marks, because he wants them there.

Johnny loves women, yes. But Johnny loves being wanted, too.

And you biting him is pure unfiltered want. Every mark is a 'you're mine' flag being planted on him. It's physical praise, and Johnny lives to carry that praise proudly.

"You know I like it when you get all mean," he says, peaking under his arm. "So are you gonna keep torturing me, or–"

Johnny stops mid sentence when he sees the glint in your eyes. He grins like a man who knows he's seconds away from heaven. He swears it's happening, you're about to say something filthy. You open your mouth and he's already thinking he's gonna take you right there and then–

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?" you ask.

Silence.

Three full seconds of stunned silence, then the arm over his eyes drops abruptly, and he pushes up onto his elbows to look at you.

"Babe ... what?"

His expression stuck in pure, utter horny confusion almost made you laugh. You place your hands on his chest to rest your chin on them, looking up at him expectantly.

"Johnny, if I was a worm ... you know, a regular worm in the dirt, would you still love me?" you ask again, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"Babe–but we were ..." He gestures between the two of you. "... we were this close to a life changing make out, and now you want to talk about worms!?" He whines, eyebrows still furrowed in disbelief.

"Just answer the question, Storm," you tease, biting back a grin, fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt. "It's pretty simple, would you?"

Johnny throws his head back with a groan so dramatic you'd think you just killed all his hopes and dreams with a harmless question you saw on a teen's magazine.

"It's not simple at all, we were having a moment! You were literally just biting my chest two seconds ago," he complains, his voice pitching higher when he lifts his head and sees your unamused expression. "What? I'm literally just a man!"

You do laugh this time, which only deepens his wounded look. The hard bulge pressing under your thighs makes it very clear how invested he was in the moment, but you can torture him a little bit longer ... for research purposes. You shift your hips just enough to make him twitch, while giving him your best serious look.

"Johnny…”

"Babe, I swear to God ... first you turn me on, then you play with my heart, and now you turn yourself into a hypothetical worm that could never kiss, or bite me again," he presses a hand over his heart, right where he wished you would just continue your little nibbling activities instead of ... this.

"So that's a no?" you squint, head tilting.

"I didn't say that! I just–give me a minute, alright? This is emotional!"

"Johnny, come on..." you chuckle, smacking his chest lightly, which makes him laugh too.

He can't believe this is where half an hour of making out has brought him. Not even when he picked his most romantic record. Not even when it was actually him who ended up convincing Reed to take his sister out so you could be alone.

"Alright, alright," he says, running a hand through your hair as his gaze softens, though you catch the playful glint still in his eyes. "Of course I'd still love you. Even if you were a tragic little worm who couldn't kiss me back," he teases, his other hand still placed tragically above his heart.

"Wait, really?" You ask excitedly, and Johnny can't help but grin wider. "Even if I was a disgusting little creature?"

"You wouldn't be disgusting, you'd still be you," he argues, "and you know boys actually like worms, right?"

"Yeah, when they're like five. As a toy!" You laugh, and he chuckles, nodding along. "Not as their girlfriend. What would you even do then?"

He frowns, looking up in playful concentration, tapping a finger against his chin.

"I'd have to ask Reed to turn me into a worm too," he says finally, nodding like it was the only option he'd have left.

"What? Johnny, you wouldn't be the human torch anymore..."

"Sweetheart, I'd totally give up my fire powers for dirt if it meant I got to be near you," he says, tone completely serious, and for some reason you wholeheartedly believe he would.

He totally would.

Now you are the one getting emotional, and he's suddenly very into the topic now, eyes lit up like this is his new life plan.

"Think about it, babe, just you and me. We'd nap under leaves–oh, wait, I wouldn't be able to keep you warm anymore..." His face brightens again. "Oh but I know! I'd roll you up in rose petals when you get cold. We could build a little house with twigs, fall in love under a daisy or something and..."

He just keeps going, building an entire fantasy in his head. And somewhere between his dramatic monologue and ridiculous imagery, it turns... kind of sweet.

"You're insane," you laugh, even as your chest fills with warmth at all his absurdly cute ideas.

"No, I'm in love," he corrects, eyebrows wiggling. "But seriously, worm or not, sweetheart, you're still you. Still out of my league. And I'm still gonna be obsessed with you."

You just bite back a smile trying not to melt, because the way he says it, like it's silly but completely real at the same time, like he's never loved anything more than this completely made up version of you.

"I'd love you. Always," he smiles, brushing his thumb along your cheek. "You're gonna have to think about other ways to get rid of me."

"I don't wanna get rid of you," you gasp, feigning offense, leaning down to place a kiss right in the center of his chest. "And that, baby, was the right answer."

"Oh, thank God," he exhales, dropping his head back to the cushions, making you laugh. "I thought I was gonna have to write you a whole poem."

"You still could, you were very enthusiastic about the idea of us having a honeymoon in the dirt," you tease, making him roll his eyes.

"Babe, don't patronize me ... you kind of ruined the best makeout session I've had all week,"

"It's Monday, Johnny."

"Exactly! We could've had a better one every day."

You laugh as he flops back, defeated, so you lean in and nip at his jaw. He pauses, eyes narrowing immediately, because he knows what happened last time you leaned in like that.

"Would it make you feel better if you got a reward?" you ask teasingly, fingers drumming lightly along his collarbone.

"A... reward?" He smirks immediately, though he pretends to clear his throat and be serious. "Babe, it'd have to be one hell of a reward to heal my heart and … something else.”

"Oh, it's a very good one. Trust me," you assure playfully. “You’d be up in no time, fire boy.”

"Really? Because last time you looked at me like that, I was in heaven and then–boom, worms."

You chuckle.

"Let me make it up to you, Johnny" you mumble before kissing him, and he smiles against your lips. "Can I, angel?" You whisper, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He nods eagerly, eyes gleaming as he places his hands on your waist to lift you back slightly, so he can take his shirt off. He sends it flying across the room, a huge grin on his face as he brings you back to lay on his bare chest. You laugh at his enthusiasm, but yours is just as quick, your hands instantly tracing the lines of his toned chest.

And now your mouth is back on him.

You hum against his warm skin, lips tracing the curve of his collarbone, "I have to say ... aside from the dramatics ... you handled the question pretty well," you say between kisses.

"Babe," he breathes, tilting his head back as you kiss your way lower. "I should get a medal. Or, you know, more of this ... way more."

"You want more of this?" You kiss the center of his chest. "...or this?" You bite gently at the same spot.

"God, babe." His voice shakes with a laugh. "You can't talk about worms and then do all that. It's emotionally confusing."

You smile against his skin, alternating between kisses and nibbles as you trail your mouth across the heat of his chest, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses over every inch you can reach. You pause over his heart, feeling it race beneath your lips.

"Still beating," you mumble.

"Only for you, sweetheart" he says, melting when you nip at the skin just below his pec.

Your cheeks are warm against his ribs, you kiss even lower, down his stomach, just above the waistband of his sweatpants. His muscles twitch under your lips. You look up at him, your chin resting just below his navel, and that devilish look when you're about to ask him something.

Oh no. Not again.

"Would you still love me if I made out with you like this every day for the rest of your life?"

"Are you kidding?" He props himself on his elbows, grinning. "Kiss me again and I'll marry you tomorrow babe ...or right now!"

You laugh, pressing your lips to his stomach again, slower, deeper, letting your hands slide up his sides. His breath stutters when you bite the V of his hips.

He starts making the most shameless noises, as your teeth graze over his skin, running his hands down your back and whispering, "Yeah... bite me, baby, c'mon..."

He totally lives for it.

"You're gonna kill me one of these days," he pants, shaking his head, already halfway gone to the gates of your heaven.

"Maybe," you smile, lips brushing his V again. "You'd die happy, though."

"Oh sweetheart, the happiest! Death by makeout, with the most beautiful woman in the universe. Tell Sue to put it on my tombstone."

You look at him with a glint in your eyes, not trusting your breathless voice so you just straddle him leaning forward, finally giving him the kiss he's been waiting for. His hand slides up your back instantly, gripping like he's afraid you'll pull away, and he groans into your mouth like it's oxygen.

His hands slide up your back, pulling you tight against him, and you lose yourself in the sound of him, the way he gasps when your hands go lower, the way he exhales like he's finally home.

His hands roam freely again, sliding under your shirt, fingertips tracing patterns and dragging fire along your skin. The kiss deepens, your mouths meeting in that messy pattern you both adore. His tongue finds yours with that perfect mix of hunger and rhythm, and you can feel the smirk against your lips every time you gasp when he squeezes your skin with his hands.

Yeah, there was nothing like making out with Johnny.

"You know what?" he pants, pulling back just enough to catch his breath. "Forget the worm thing."

"Yeah?"

"Next time, just bite me again."

Feedback is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading 🫶🏼

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forgottenknightcreates · 8 hours ago

Text

Get a Johnny!

Pairing: Johnny Storm x reader Word count: 3.9k

Description: Bad cramps don’t let you sleep. You hesitate to call Johnny because you think you’re not there with him yet, but after nothing helps, you give in. Turns out having a boyfriend with fire hot powers comes very in handy.

Tags/warnings: no spoilers, fresh relationship, hurt/comfort, johnny is full of himself and surprises, putting his powers to good use, flame on, banter, he sucks at making breakfast, fluffy and domestic johnny <3

Note: I literally can’t stop kicking my feet when writing this man, please enjoy another self indulgent sweet and funny piece 🫶🏼

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You curl tighter on your couch under a weighted blanket, shifting again and again, as if the next position will finally trick your body into forgetting the ache burning low in your stomach. It doesn't.

The cramps continue, a deep pressure that makes it impossible to find comfort. You've been like this all evening, a pad you heated way too long ago now laying useless on your lower belly, a half empty mug of tea forgotten on your coffee table, and the soft glow of the moon coming through the glass doors illuminating your tired face. It's well past midnight now, and you feel frustrated with your own body for not being able to get up to your bed, or at least just fall asleep right where you are.

You think of Johnny.

How easy it would be to press the little button on the watch he gave you, send him a quick message, and have him there. But your stomach knots for a different reason at the thought. He doesn't need to see you like this, cranky, bundled in mismatched pjs, curled up like some wounded thing. At least your ex boyfriend never wanted to deal with... this. The unglamorous parts.

Surely, in the short period of time you've been dating Johnny, he has proved a million times he's better than any other excuse of a guy. Every single one. Which is probably why you feel the need to keep things romanticized in some way.

You've spent nights with him before, heavenly late hours tangled in his sheets, or sleepovers at your place that stretched into lazy mornings. But those nights had always been planned to some degree. Wearing cute little shorts, soft perfume, or maybe nothing at all if things got heated, which was pretty often to be fair. But always with a little polish, a little effort, like you were still trying to show the best version of you.

Cramp.

You roll over, again, and tug your blanket higher. Try to gaslight yourself into believing you're fine. But the wave of pain twists through you, sharp enough that you press your face into the cushion to muffle a groan. Your chest tightens and you suddenly feel small.

Alone.

Your arm comes out of the blanket and your fingers drift to the watch on your wrist before you can stop yourself. You trace the smooth edge of the screen, remembering how proud Johnny was when he put it on you the first time, like he'd just given you the most thoughtful thing in the world. And he did, he meant it to make you feel safe, connected, never too far away from him.

Johnny it is, then.

That’s what you needed. Just him, next to you, being warm, and solid and distracting enough to pull you out of the spiral of despair. Your finger hovers over the screen for a few seconds and finally, after another wave of pain, you give in. One press and a ping gets sent to Johnny, all the way to the Baxter Building.

It's quite comical when you think about it. Johnny likes to call it a superhero signal, in case you ever need him. Just like right now.

Wait– but what if he's already asleep? What if he just reads it in the morning and–

The screen lights up almost immediately. A ping vibrates softly on your wrist with his reply.

"On my way."

It's interesting how just a few words from him, on a screen even, already give you some relief. You lay tucked in, eyes on the ceiling as you wait for his arrival. And before you know it, you hear those familiar soft footsteps on your balcony, followed by the hiss of the glass door sliding open.

You glance up eagerly, and there he is, Johnny Storm in all his sleeping clothing glory.

A soft white shirt with some blue striped pants, blonde hair sticking up in every possible direction from where he must've rolled out of bed, and that signature, charming smile on his face when he caught you bundled up on the couch.

He doesn't even wait for you to speak before stepping inside and crouching in front of you, one knee pressing into the carpet, his hand going up to gently brush some stray strands of hair off your forehead. The teasing smile softens as soon as he sees your face.

"I was starting to think you forgot about me," he jokes about not seeing you all day, still trying to make it light, but his eyes give him away.

They're worried. Worried that you've been feeling sick all day and didn't tell him, worried that you're curled up like this without him knowing.

"Why didn't you call me sooner?" he tilts his head, as his hand continues to stroke your hair.

You open your mouth, but your throat closes around the answer. You don't know how to explain the mix of embarrassment and stubborn independence. So instead, you shrug weakly.

"I guess ... I didn't want to bother you. It's just.... it hurts and I can't sleep, and–"

"Hey," he cuts in gently, thumb brushing over your temple. "C'mere," he leans forward in his crouched position, pulling your upper body straight into his chest. He's so warm it feels unfair, his arms wrapping around you like all day you should've been there. "You could never ever bother me, you need me and I'm here, end of the story."

You bite your lip, the edges of your embarrassment softening under the warmth of his voice. He pulls away just enough to look at you, trying to coax a smile out of you.

"Besides, if I knew you'd be curled up like a burrito in this blanket, I would've been here hours ago. You're basically begging me to make fun of you," he teases, earning a snort from you.

You try to tug the blanket higher over your face, but he only laughs and tugs it back down, playful, his fingers brushing your cheek. "There she is," he says softly, eyes searching yours. "My girl."

You smile, about to say something but another cramp tenses your body, and Johnny immediately pulls you to him again, your cheek over his heartbeat. He doesn't let go right away, you stay pressed against his chest until you stop clutching his shirt. Only when your breathing steadies, Johnny pulls back to study your face, his eyes narrowing in that way that makes you feel completely seen.

"Alright, sweetheart" he whispers, cupping your face. "Tell me how bad it hurts."

You gesture vaguely at your stomach, cheeks heating. "It's just... cramps. Really bad. I just wanted you here ...you don't have to–"

"Stop," he kisses your forehead before you can finish. "I do have to. It’s literally my only purpose as your hot, lucky boyfriend."

That earns a soft laugh from you, probably the first in hours, and he smiles satisfied.

"I'm gonna need you to wait here for me," he backs slightly to stand up, but you grab his hand.

"Wait, Johnny don't leave–"

"It's only a few minutes, alright?" he reassures, and only stands up when you nod hesitantly and drop his wrist. "Don't miss me too much, I know you like to see my face and all that–”

"Johnny, just go..." you chuckle, and he grins wider, saluting his way out the balcony.

The room feels colder as soon as he's gone, and you realize how his absence feels like missing sunlight. Like all day you've been lying under a cloud of rain. But sure enough, the cold doesn't last longer than five minutes, when he's landing back again with a triumph smile on his face as he makes his way to your kitchen.

You stare curiously from the couch at Johnny moving swiftly through it, with a raised hand in flames to illuminate the countertop. You hear cupboards opening, the soft clink of a mug being set down, and being filled with water. He rips open with his teeth a paper package he pulls from his pocket, placing the tea bag in the water. He makes his way back to you carrying the mug in one hand, as the other lowered his fire to just one flame under the mug to instantly heat it up. You sit down just in time as he arrives, a steaming cup of tea now in his hands, the scent instantly soothing.

"Careful, sugar" he smiles, handing the hot mug to you, "and ... take these," he reaches the pocket of his striped pants, pulling out a small plastic pill bottle.

"Painkillers haven't been helping much," you shake your head, sipping from your tea. He just kneels in front of you again, so he can be on eye level.

"These are special ones Reed made specifically for my sister, since she deals with pretty bad cramps too," he explains, opening the bottle and pouring two baby blue pills on his hand before handing them to you. "The tea is also his mixture, Sue says it helps a lot."

You stare at him in silence, melting in awe. You can't believe you had convinced yourself all day Johnny wouldn't want to deal with this. He does have a sister after all. And he's been raised right, partly by her. So you nod, taking the pills with a sip of tea, and set the mug on your coffee table before wrapping your arms around his neck. Your lips meet his, and it feels like you've been stupidly depriving yourself of your oxygen. He's soft with it, slowly savoring it like he's been missing you all day too, smiling against your tea flavored lips when he pulls apart for air.

The movement made the blanket around you fall open, revealing the heating pad lying crooked on your low belly. Johnny doesn’t even doubt.

"Trade me, babe" he says, taking the cold pad away before slipping his hot hand against your lower belly. The relief on your face is instant, like it was the last missing piece. "Let's keep that there, and drink this before I have to spoon feed you, because I will." he mocks seriousness, picking the mug from the table, guiding it to your lips.

You happily take a sip, smiling against the mug. "Since when are you so bossy?"

"Since you forget to take care of yourself," his tone is teasing, but his eyes are soft, lingering until you take another sip, so you do.

"Better?" he asks, half smug half relieved.

"Better," you nod, not even able to control your smile anymore. "You are ... simply the best, Johnny Storm," you praise wholeheartedly, starting to forget about the pain.

"I know, I know," he rolls his eyes playfully, lifting up from his crouching position without taking away his hand, before gesturing to your side. "Now, your portable heating pad's knees hurt, scoot."

You move over amused, and he sits next to you, his free arm instantly curling around your shoulders. His body always radiates heat, steady and overwhelming in the best way. You can't help but relax, your head finding its way to his chest as you sip the last of the tea.

"So much for a superhero," you tease now, making him gasp in feigned offense.

"This is after hours, babe," he defends, "besides, I've proven myself to be very useful," to make his point stronger, he takes the empty mug from your hand and places it away.

"Oh you have, fire boy," you nod, playfully placing a kiss on his chest as a thank you.

"See? You could've had this hours ago if you'd just called me," his hand rubs soothing circles along your arm. "And I mean it ... I wanna be here for you. All of it. Even this. Especially this."

"I know," you whisper, hugging him tighter, the ghost of a smile on your face. "I know, Johnny."

You cuddle in silence for a while, the pain quickly drifting away from the medicine and Johnny's unbelievable heat. Your hand slipped under his shirt a while ago, tracing patterns on his toned skin.

"You know what..." he breaks the silence, and you recognize the spark in his voice. "Forget space travel. I could make commercials about this. 'Tired of cramps? Get a Johnny!’”

"Yeah? I'm sure Ben would love to see that," you shake your head laughing, patting his chest but he catches your hand, lacing your fingers with his. "Lucky for me, I have my Johnny already," you lift your chin up to look at him.

"Yes, but yours comes with extra features," he wiggles his eyebrows, while his mouth keeps running just to coax more giggles out of you. "I'm just saying... heating mode, snuggle mode, horny sex god mode–"

"You're so full of yourself, Johnny."

"Why thank you," he kisses your temple, obnoxiously sweet. "Full of snacks, too. I also brought gummy bears," he says, and you tilt your head to find his smirk.

"You did not."

"Check my pocket," he nods excitedly, and you reach over his pants, accidentally grazing his crotch. "Wow–wow, not that pocket!"

You can't help but snort, reaching the right pocket this time. Sure enough, there's a little crinkled bag tucked inside. Your chest warms almost as much as your belly does under his palm. Johnny looks far too pleased with himself.

"See? I even brought candy to your midnight pity party" he says, already reaching the bag to grab two gummies. He pops one in your mouth before eating one himself.

"My pity party? I hate you," your offended voice comes out muffled from chewing the gummy.

"Except you love me," he shrugs smugly, reaching for more gummies to do the same again. One for you, one for him.

And damn this idiot, you do. Especially when he tilts his head to peck your lips, lingering with the candy's leftover sweet taste. You eat a few more in silence, only giggling when he attempts to throw one and catch it in the air and fails miserably, only for you to get it at the first try.

"Alright, alright ... that's enough," he crinkles the bag and puts it next to your empty mugs on the coffee table. "Sue would kill me if she sees me eating candy right now."

"You're just saying that cause you lost–"you attempt to tease, but a yawn takes over your voice, your eyes inevitably narrowing.

"I'm saying that because you need to rest," he corrects, already getting up. "C'mon, sweetheart, we're doing this right" he slides one arm under your knees and another around your back. "This couch isn't good enough for you."

The blanket stays wrapped around you, tucked close to your chest, while his warmth radiates through your whole body as he walks to your bedroom. He nudges the door open with his foot, and in a couple of strides reaches the bed. He lays you down softly, and places a kiss your forehead that makes you smile. For a second, he just looks at you, messy hair, tired eyes, and you swear he couldn't look more in love.

Then, without warning, he starts tugging the blanket away.

"Hey!" you protest, clutching it tighter around you. "Johnny, I need that," you complain, but he just smirks, leaning over you.

"Wrong! You got me now. I'm waaay better than some blanket."

"You gave me this blanket."

"Yeah, well, now I'm taking it away," he shrugs, smiling condescendingly.

You groan, half laughing, trying to wrestle the blanket back, but he wins easily, tossing it onto the floor with a winning grin.

"There. Much better," he says, and before you can complain about him washing it, he slides in beside you, embracing your body with his.

The heat of him hits immediately, wrapping you far warmer and softer than the blanket ever was. His arm goes around your waist, palm flattening over your stomach again, radiating that gentle, steady warmth. The way you relax into his body makes him smile.

"See?" he mumbles against your hair. "Told you, babe, way better," he tugs you closer to his chest, pulling the covers of your bed over you.

One hand stays over your stomach, spreading heat exactly where you need it, while the other strokes slow, soothing patterns down your back. You listen to his heartbeat for a while, the rhythm grounding you more than anything else has all day.

This isn't another night where you prepped yourself the whole day to smell like literal heaven when he tasted your skin. Tonight is different. You're in mismatched faded pjs, hair undone, tired face. And he doesn't look at you like you're any less. If anything, his eyes are softer, more focused, like this is the you he'd been waiting to see.

"You know," he says after a long silence, voice getting lower with sleep, "this is my favorite look on you."

"I look awful," you groan, burying your face in his chest.

"Yeah, awful ... totally hideous. Which is why I'm keeping you forever," he chuckles, like it's a joke, but his words always hold more meaning to them.

You lift your head just enough to meet his blue eyes. The way he’s looking at you makes you realize this might be the most intimate night you’ve ever shared. And you’re happy.

Johnny can feel it. The way your body melts against his, the way your breathing evens out. And then suddenly your eyes are fluttering shut, lips parted slightly.

“Sleep babe, I got you,” he whispers, pressing a feather light kiss to your forehead.

And with his body pressed against yours, his heartbeat steady under your ear, you finally drift off. Safe, held, and cared for in every way that matters.

The first thing you notice when your eyes blink open is warmth. Not just the weight of his arm still around your waist, or the way his chest rises steady beneath your cheek, but the faint heat radiating from his palm, still exactly where it had been all night, like he never once let go. You shift, slow and careful, and he feels it.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Johnny mumbles, in his deeper morning voice. You tilt your head just enough to see him, his blonde hair even messier than last night, eyes heavy lidded and a lazy smile. “How you feeling?”

“Mmm, it doesn’t hurt,” you hum, snuggling into his chest.

“Told you, babe. Human torch heating pad, runs all night and never shuts off,” he drawls, joking even when he’s still half asleep.

You chuckle, and try shifting out of his arms, just enough to stretch, enough to maybe get up and get cleaned up. But the second you move, Johnny makes a low groan in his throat, instantly clinging tighter.

“Nope,” he mumbles. “I’m still in service. You can’t get up yet.”

You laugh softly against his chest. “Johnny, I need to–“

“Shhh,” his nose nuzzles into your hair, lips brushing the your head. “Don’t argue with Johnny.”

There it is, the third person his family always mocked him about. It should be ridiculous, really, but it’s also so him that your heart squeezes. He’s lying there with messy hair and the bedsheets wrinkles imprinted on his cheeks, clinging to you like it’s the best place he could be in, and somehow you love him more for it.

So you don’t argue, you don’t tease. You just let yourself sink back into him, curling closer, your hand finding its way under his shirt to rest against his warm skin. His grip softens a little at that, enough to let you breathe, but he doesn’t let go.

“That’s better,” he beams, satisfied. “Knew you’d see reason.”

Your laugh bubbles out before you can stop it, and you happily melt into his arms. Eventually, after a while of drifting between sleep and squinting at the soft sunlight coming through your windows, your stomach betrays you. It growls loud enough that Johnny finally cracks one eye open and smirks.

“Hungry?” he teases.

“Starving. I only had those gummy bears last night,” you shift against him, trying to sit up.

“Nope,” he says, gently holding you back down. “You stay. I’ll bring you something,” he orders, already rolling out of bed like he wasn’t in deep sleep just a few minutes ago.

“Johnny, angel, I love you but … you’re a literal fire hazard in any kitchen,” you look at him apologetically as you sit up.

“Excuse you, haven’t I proved by this point you’re in good hands?” He presses a dramatic hand to his chest, pretending to be wounded. You just raise your eyebrows at him, so he leans forward to press a kiss right between your frown. “I love you too, by the way.”

You bite back a smile, shaking your head. He makes his way to the door now, hair sticking up, crinkled shirt, striped pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He stops to point at you before walking out. “Don’t move, breakfast in bed.”

You smile with tight lips, pretending to be excited until he turns around and you can flop back in bed, knowing this is going to be a disaster. Because as ironic as it sounded, he’d been close to burning down your kitchen before. You guess he’s just not used to the fact that only the Baxter Building was fireproof from head to toe.

As expected, when your stomach wins out and you walk into the kitchen moments later, the first thing you see is Johnny leaning over the stove, hand glowing as he absorbs fire out of the frying pan. Smoke curls toward the ceiling, and the smell of something close to charred fills the air.

“What are you doing?” you lean in the doorway, arms crossed as you bite back a smile.

Johnny straightens instantly, tucking the pan behind him and airing out the smoke with his hand like that’ll somehow help. Unfortunately for him, when he moved the pan behind his back, a fried egg, or what used to be one, flops onto the floor. Suspiciously black, yet his grin is far too casual as he steps in front of it to hide it. “What? Nothing to see here. Everything’s under control. Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Uh huh,” you arch a brow, trying not to laugh.

He sighs defeated, placing the pan back on the counter and leaning to pick up the burnt ‘breakfast in bed’ from the floor. He mutters a curse as he throws it away, only to turn to you right after like nothing happened.

He lifts his hands up smiling, holding his index fingers up as if to say ‘wait up’. He goes through your cabinets, letting out a small cheer when he finds what he was looking for.

“Lucky for you, sweetheart… you got your very own Johnny Storm cereal,” he pulls out the box, holding it with one hand and pointing his face on the cover with the other. “Only the finest, of course. Your favorite.”

“That’s your favorite,” you argue, narrowing your eyes.

You think he’s about to protest but he’s too busy shoving his hand inside the box, eyes opening wide in excitement as he reaches what he was looking for. The mini human torch that came in the cereal.

‘Flame on!’ ‘Flame on!’ ‘Flame on!’

“Got another one for your collection, babe!” he beams, already walking over to the shelf display on your living room.

He finds the other identical plastic toys lining up there, and adds a third to your surprisingly growing collection. You shake your head as he strolls toward you all happy.

“Now you have three Johnny’s,” he cheers, his hands instinctively going to your waist when he reaches you.

“I have four,” you correct, draping your arms on his shoulders to bring in him close enough to almost kiss. “You’re my favorite one, though.”

Lovely divider by @enchanthings

Thank you so much for reading! feedback is always appreciated 🫶🏼

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forgottenknightcreates · 23 hours ago

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I do not AI WRITE, I do not AI DRAW, I do not listen to AI MUSIC and if it isn’t created by someone IT IS NOT ART.

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forgottenknightcreates · 23 hours ago

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someone: hey I noticed this thing you did in your writing!

me, kicking my feet up flirtatiously: oh??? do you want to hear my thoughts on why I did that? do you want a play-by-play of the language choices in every related sentence? do you want an exhaustive breakdown of The Themes???

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forgottenknightcreates · 3 days ago

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“You’re so quiet, what’s wrong?” I’m creating my own fantasy world to escape from reality so shut up.

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forgottenknightcreates · 3 days ago

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Keep Coming Back

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky shows up at your door in the middle of the night... injured... again.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: blood & injuries (nothing too graphic I promise), reference to previous injuries, mention of nightmares, this is a fluff piece I gave this man a break for once

Songs mentioned (recommended listening): In The Sill of the Night by The Five Satins, When You’re Smiling by Louis Armstrong, I’ll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday, It Had To Be You by Frank Sinatra, and I’d Rather Go Blind by Etta James

AO3 Link for those who'd rather read it there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69186221

A/N: Soooooo I've never posted like this on Tumblr so I'm just hoping everything works and looks ok lol. This is also my first ever Bucky fic so I hope I did him justice <3 Hope you enjoy! :)

GIF by @/riricitaa

You opened the front door to Bucky, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, the hand of his metal arm braced on the other side. You took in the cut above his eye that was still bleeding down his cheek, the bruise already dark along his jaw, the wet patch on his shirt that made it cling to his ribs, and the embarrassed– or perhaps pained– expression that made a crease form between his brows.

“Hey…” he said slowly, wincing. You didn’t miss the way his eyes took in the large t-shirt– one of his– that you were wearing as pajamas.

You shook your head at him and sighed. “Bathroom, now,” you said before gesturing for him to come in. He nodded gratefully and clenched his jaw as he straightened, walking carefully into your home as if you wouldn’t notice the way he was favoring his right leg.

Closing the door, you watched him make his way through the living room to the bathroom down the short hall, his head bowed and right hand now pressed firmly to the ribs on his left side where the dark patch stained his shirt. You followed silently after him, pausing ritualistically at the record player that doubled as a radio in the living room. It was already tuned to a station that played oldies, and to the sound of “In The Sill of the Night” by The Five Satins, you walked toward the beacon of light pouring into the dark hall from the bathroom.

Bucky was already seated on the toilet lid, eyes adjusting to the soft yellow lights. His metal hand flexed where it rested on his thigh while his other hand was still firmly rooted to his side. He watched you warily– bracing for a lecture no doubt– as you crouched in front of the sink cabinet and retrieved the first aid kit you made sure to keep fully stocked at all times from its home.

“Y’know, you really don’t have to-”

“Don’t fight me on this, Barnes,” you said, sitting on his left knee and setting the first aid kit in your lap. “You’ll lose.”

You began your work with practiced hands– not because you were trained to clean cuts and bandage wounds, but because he’d come home so many times in bad shape that you had made sure to learn how to help him in what seemed to be one of the only ways he would allow.

Running some warm water, you soaked a washcloth—black, to avoid dealing with blood stains—under it. Squeezing out any excess water, you held out your hand and nodded pointedly at Bucky’s hand clutching his side. He relinquished slowly—always slowly, he never rushed this part—and laid his right hand palm up in yours, his bloody fingers long past startling you.

One after another, you washed his fingers clean of his blood. You lingered at each joint, spent extra time on his nails, and made sure to trace and retrace each line on the palm of his hand. He had told you once after waking from a nightmare that some nights he could still feel the blood on his hands, even see it if he wasn’t fully awake. Ever since, you’d been diligently thorough, hoping it comforted him, helped him see for himself that his hands were clean. Innocent.

When you’d finished, you gave his hand a once over before brushing a tender kiss to his knuckles. You heard him swallow as he flexed his fingers, lowering his hand to rest on your knee. His thumb rubbed there lazily, his palm warming your skin. A smile tugged at your mouth, and despite yourself, you shivered at his touch. You wrung out the washcloth and cupped his chin in your other hand, moving on to clean his face.

You felt his eyes on you, heavy and searching, trying to get you to look at him. The cool metal of his arm touched at the small of your back, making you flinch. “Stop trying to distract me, Barnes,” you scolded, the heat of it dulled with the way you were fighting a smile.

“Am I distracting you?” His metal fingers trailed up your spine, loitering at each vertebrae.

Rather than inflate his ego any further, you said, “Do you want a botched patch job or not?”

His answering chuckle rumbled through his chest and made warmth bloom in yours. Bucky’s eyes closed when you started wiping near his brow, almost leaning into your touch. “I like this song,” he admitted quietly. “We danced to this.”

“You mean you coerced me into swaying with you in the kitchen after you came home with a fractured wrist, a black eye, and… what was it?” You trailed off, pretending to mull over the answer you already knew.

Bucky sighed deeply, his face slacking in annoyance as he looked toward the door. “A bullet hole-”

“A bullet hole through said fractured wrist. Of course, how could I forget?”

“How could you forget?” Bucky repeated sardonically, most likely remembering the actual lecture you gave him that night.

“Is there a gunshot wound under your shirt or will I get a pleasant surprise and only find one from a knife?”

To answer, Bucky removed his hand from your back and grabbed the hem of his shirt, lifting it up just long enough to reveal a bloody gash along his ribs. “Surprise.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” Setting down the washcloth you retrieved the bottle of alcohol and a cotton ball from the first aid kit in your lap. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches. Just have to disinfect it, slap on a butterfly bandage and that should do you.”

Bucky grimaced as you applied the stinging solution to the cotton ball. “Can’t you just put the bandage on?"

“James Buchanan Barnes, you’re filled with super soldier serum. It’ll sting for just a second.” You cupped his cheek, ignoring the grumpy look he’d fixed you with, and dabbed at the cut above his brow. He stiffened, his shoulders tensing and the hand on your knee gripping just a bit harder, but he breathed steadily. As you secured his bandage in place he peaked up at you from under his lashes and you shook your head fondly at him. “You’ll live, tough guy.” To appease him– and smooth the crease between his brows– you leaned closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“When You’re Smiling” by Louis Armstrong bled into the bathroom from down the hall, and Bucky relaxed under you again.

Standing from your spot on his knee, you set the first aid kit beside the sink on the counter. “I think it’ll be easier for this one if you took your shirt off.”.

Bucky shook his head, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips. “Any excuse…” He grabbed the hem of his shirt in his hands and pulled it up and over his head. Balling it up, he kept his eyes on you as he tossed it across the room into the small trash can near the door.

“Alright showoff,” you said, trying to deflect from the way your cheeks warmed at the sight of so much of his skin. Him leaning back with a smug grin and resting his vibranium arm on the back of the toilet was your invitation to begin your work.

You leaned forward and studied the cut, muttering, “Not as bad as I thought.”

“I did dodge the guy.”

“Didn’t realize you knew how to do that. You usually throw yourself in front of things coming at you.”

“Okay okay, y’know, I would appreciate a little bit of credit here. I didn’t get shot.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that one,” you said, re-wetting the washcloth and grabbing a large bandage from the kit.

“What else?”

You pursed your lips. “How about… a secret?”

“Now?”

You smiled as you started wiping away the blood on his side. “When I’m done. I don’t give those out for free, you know.”

Bucky huffed, a smirk on his lips as he watched your hands. You figured he always watched you as a reassurance– to know where your hands were and what they were doing to him when he hadn’t always had that luxury in the past when those hands had been Hydra. Your heart tightened in your chest at the way he trusted you, to let you so close when he was vulnerable like this.

As you dabbed the cut with antiseptic– gently, slowly, even though you knew he was hamming up wincing earlier– you remembered how he wouldn’t stop flinching the first time you’d tried to patch him up. He’d insisted that he could do it himself, even while he couldn’t stay on his feet, his head lolling and vision blurring from blood loss and the concussion he swore he didn’t have. He had passed out on the floor, propped up by the wall he’d slid down before you were done. You’d finally let yourself cry knowing he wouldn’t see how worried or how scared you were that you could be losing him, and that your meager skills wouldn’t be enough to keep him alive.

You smoothed the large bandage over his cleaned cut, double checking that the edges were all secure. “There. Good as new, or you will be in a day or so with the help of your healing factor.”

He thanked you, your name sounding like a sacred benediction falling from his lips.

You nodded and gave him a small smile as you threw out the blooded cotton balls, bandage wrappers, and wrung out the equally bloody washcloth.

“I’m sorry,” he said. You knew what he was doing– the guilt was setting in, or he was finally allowing himself to express what he’d been holding in.

“It’s okay,” you said quickly, looking down at your hands. Because it was okay, you would never want him to feel like he couldn’t come to you.

“Doll...” Bucky’s hand gripped your wrist and he tugged gently, pulling you into him so you had to straddle his lap. He released your wrist and cradled your jaw, his thumb brushing your chin, the corner of your mouth. He eased you into meeting his gaze, not forcefully, the pressure he exerted was more of a question than any breed of demand. His stormy eyes—blue, grey, and green colliding in a combination that had quickly turned into your favorite color that didn’t have a name other than Bucky—pulled your focus. “I’m sorry,” he said again, fingers tightening their hold on you just enough to underscore his intent. “I know you worry. I don’t come home like this just so you’ll patch me up.”

“I’m just glad you come home,” you admitted, the words breathy in your tight throat. You touched your fingers to the bruise on his jaw, the edges already starting to change colors from the harsh purple it had been when he’d arrived to a muted blend of yellow, green, and brown. “Keep doing that, will you?” You were almost afraid to ask, the words thin and timid as they left your mouth.

“I will.” Bucky didn’t take his eyes off of you.

When you nodded and slid your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead to his, he slowly stood up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as Bucky held you to his chest, his vibranium arm cool where his fingers splayed between your shoulder blades.

He flicked the light off as he carried you out of the room– still favoring his right leg– and further down the hall toward your bedroom. Kicking off his boots and hiking you up higher around his waist, he pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw before laying you both down into the welcoming mattress.

“We left the radio on,” you said as you shifted to be more comfortable beneath him, your legs loose on either side of him instead of wrapped around his hips.

“Leave it,” Bucky grumbled as he snatched a pillow and slid it under your head for you. He tucked his head under your chin, his breath fanning against your collarbone while his arms stayed resolutely locked around you.

“You stink.” One of your hands found its way into his hair while the other grazed lazily along his spine. His skin was warm under your touch and seeping that warmth into you as he laid on your chest.

“We’ll shower tomorrow,” he murmured, the words buzzing against the hollow of your throat.

“It is tomorrow, Buck.” Your blood hummed quietly at his use of ‘we.’

“Later then.”

“I have to wake up early, you know.”

“I’ll wake you.” His voice was getting softer, measured and slow from the comfort of being wrapped up in you.

Long enough for several songs to play through in the distance- “I’ll Be Seeing You” by Billie Holiday, “It Had To Be You” by Frank Sinatra, and “I’d Rather Go Blind” by Etta James- your eyes were lulled to fall closed. You thought Bucky had already fallen asleep with how quiet he’d gone and how steady his breaths had become when he suddenly spoke.

“What was your secret?” His voice was low and thick, sleep trickling down his throat.

You smiled blindly into his hair, lips brushing the crown of his head. “I didn’t vote for you.”

Silence.

Then his laugh– not a soft chuckle, or the forced huff of air you’d heard time and time before– his real laugh, broke through the room like dawn.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #thunderbolts #marvel #bucky gets a happy ending #mild hurt/comfort #fanfic

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