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gorbo-longstocking · 2 days ago

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Like A Dog | Chapter Two

Pairing: Dmitri Kravinoff/Reader

Summary: Sparring is fun, until you’re being choked out. Then, all you can think about is the heat between your bodies and the necklace of bruises sure to be left behind.

Tags: Choking, it’s more like strangling, sexual tension, sparring, reader is stated to be taller than Dmitri, slight pain play, slight collaring, some petplay dynamics if you squint

Masterlist

Six months passed in Dmitri’s service, and, as promised, Mondays and Wednesdays belonged to you. It was strange for a benefactor to bend to your will, but Dmitri did so every now and then. It was sweet, your heart swelled in your chest eaxh time you remembered it. Everything about him made your blood sing and energy zip through your veins. You were obsessed with him, you thought. With his kindness, his smell, his smile, his kindness. You couldn’t get enough.

Dmitri hadn’t been lying about knowing how to shoot, all he needed was a little polishing before he would be as comfortable wielding a firearm as you were. You kept his smaller size in mind. While you could handle heavy weaponry without having to worry about the recoil, you worried that Dmitri’s narrow shoulders would shatter under the smallest provocation. When you told him such — despite intending to keep such thoughts secret — he insisted he be given the same weaponry that you specialized in.

Dmitri didn’t talk to you for two days after he dislocated his shoulder. Despite his stubborn insistence to ignore you, and that ‘smug expression’ he was certain you carried, you stayed by his side as you would have any other day. Much to his chagrin, but that never stopped you before, it wouldn’t stop you then.

After that incident with his father, Dmitri invited you into his apartment. Rather than keep watch from the lobby, you were allowed in Dmitri’s penthouse, sleeping on the couch when the night’s watch became too much for your exhaustion to handle. He fussed over you, then. Chiding like a mother hen, as he got you comfortable. Too many pillows behind your head, the blankets far too downy than what you were used to, it was odd. It was all so odd. The sun had risen some time ago, so Dmitri closed the curtains to keep you comfortable. He always took care to make you comfortable. No one had done that. Ever.

“You would think you would know how to take care of yourself better,” Dmitri said, obviously displeased if his tone was anything to go by. “Do you really have to be ordered to sleep?”

“I like it when you tell me what to do,” You said earnestly. With a small hum, you pulled the blankets up to your chin and hugged a pillow to your chest. “Besides, someone needs to keep watch while you sleep. What if something were to happen?”

Ignoring your first point, though he heard it considering the tinge of pink to his cheeks, he sat down on the arm of the couch. “Alright, so I sleep at night, and you sleep during the day.”

A whine left you despite the fact that your eyes were drooping shut. “Then I won’t get to spend as much time with you, sir.”

“Whining like a puppy who didn’t get his way.” Dmitri’s fingers were gentle as they brushed your bangs away from your forehead. “You’re pathetic, you know that?”

“Your dog,” You murmured, sleep overtaking you. Still, you would bark for him, no matter how little strength you had left. “Woof.”

“My dog,” He breathed.

That was the last memory of that day. You awoke hours later to see Dmitri reading a book a few feet away. His first action, upon seeing your open eyes, was to snicker and walk over to flick you on the forehead. You playfully snapped your jaws at him.

“Bad dog.” He grabbed you by the chin just to see if he could. You allowed it, a sleepy smile on your face. His head was tilted as he appraised you, fondness leaking into his eyes, even as he pursed his lips with disapproval. “I need to train you better.”

You would let him do whatever he wanted to you, so long as he looked at you like that again.

Eventually, Dmitri allowed you into his bed rather than only his couch. The two of you took turns sleeping, as you desired, and unbeknownst to you, he relished seeing you so relaxed. You were always at attention, waiting for his commands. Here, in his bed, you were sprawled out, drool seeping from your mouth onto the pillow. Your soft snores filled the room. Sometimes, he would trace patterns into your skin, only comfortable in doing so when you were unaware. You would stir, but never wake. Once, you grabbed his hand, your callouses rough against his soft skin, and nuzzled into his palm.

Dmitri was certain of his feelings then, unlike you who barely understood the surface of your emotions, let alone what laid deeper.

Unfortunately, you were much less gentle when you were on the mat with him, pressing him into the ground for the fifteenth time that hour. Your heart raced as you felt your body against his. He was wearing a tanktop and shorts, just like you, your legs tangled with his. Your skin rubbed together pleasantly as he squirmed. Instead of a whimper or yelp, like he usually did, Dmitri let out an annoyed growl. Not even a second later, his body went limp.

“You win,” he conceded. There was frustration in his tone, hard and craggy. You stood and offered him your hand as he sat up. Dmitri ignored it and heaved himself to his feet. “Again.”

“Alright.”

Falling into an offensive position, you made the first strike. He was still tired from his previous losses, but managed to dodge. That was the advantage he had over you. He was small, delicate, if you didn’t know any better, he could easily catch you off guard and pin you. If he really wanted to. You did know better, though, and he never used this to his advantage. With each dance forward he took, you weaved out of the way.

Dmitri was too careful. Taking risks wasn’t in his nature, he would continue to lash out where you expected him to. Each of his motions were telegraphed too obviously, and you told him such earlier. He had asked for constructive criticism, something you were hesitant to give. You didn’t want to insult him. It was only when he assured you that he wouldn’t be angry with you did you go on a tirade featuring all his mistakes over the past six months. After five minutes, you noticed him completely deflated, almost defeated. Dmitri never stayed down for long, however. He always got back up, stronger than before.

Until you said to go again, and that determination was back. You admired that about Dmitri. He was adaptable, like a chameleon.

And painfully pretty. That helped too.

Dmitri feinted left and aimed for your stomach. With ease, you grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. He let out a yelp, writhing for only a second before you let him go.

You let Dmitri win once. Once. He was so angry, you were worried he would never forgive you. Playing with your fingers, you watched him storm out of the private gym. The door slammed shut behind him, and the sound echoed through the open room. When you returned to his apartment — you had followed him, but gave him his space — he ordered you to never do that again. All you did was make him feel weak.

“I don’t want that,” he had hissed at you. “Not from you. Never from you.”

That was why you didn’t let up your offense. Dmitri raised his arms to block each one of your attacks. As you always did, you left bruises behind on his pale skin.

What you didn’t expect was for him to duck. Your fist sailed through open air and the wind left your lungs when a pair of arms wrapped around your middle, tackling you to the mat. You were prepared to flip him, only for Dmitri to wrap his fingers around your throat and squeeze. Hard. You gasped, grabbing his wrists. He was straddling you, nose wrinkled in concentration as he pressed his weight into your windpipe. Wheezing a frustratingly difficult gasp, you tried not to think about how hot your face felt. Nor the white hot tension in your gut.

Dmitri looked beautiful above you. His curls had flopped in front of his narrowed eyes, framing his face perfectly. Beautiful, plush lips were pulled back to bare his teeth. You couldn’t breathe, likely from the strangulation, but you were convinced it was awe. There was fire in Dmitri’s green eyes. It blazed brightly, as hot as the fire under your skin felt, his stare boring into you.

“Yield,” He spit out, squeezing even tighter.

You couldn’t breathe. It was making your mind go fuzzy. Staring up at Dmitri, you grinned, and his eyebrows furrowed. Never in your life had you wanted someone to lean down and kiss you more than you did now. Kiss you until you passed out from lack of air, until you lost all the air in your body and died in his arms.

“Yield, now! I win. This is my win.”

Even if you could speak, you didn’t know how to tell him that you didn’t want this to end. You felt your eyes roll back in your head. Still, Dmitri didn’t let up.

With the last bits of your strength, you tapped the mat twice.

Finally — disappointingly — he let go. Oxygen rushed into your lungs with a hungry, choking gasp. Followed by laughter, your hand hovering over your aching throat. There were sure to be bruises in the shape of his fingers forming, and you had never been more grateful for anything in your life. He marked you, a bad dog being put in its place. Dmitri sat back on his haunches. When you focused your gaze on him, he was flushed and busy adjusting his shorts. When he saw you caught him, he flushed a deep shade of cherry red, though for what reason, you weren’t sure.

“You beat me.” Your voice was raspy. With each inhale, you were careful to fill your lungs as much as you could.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” Dmitri crawled over to where you were sitting. Tentative fingers traced against the sensitive, blooming bruises. You watched his pupils dilate. “I— I don’t know why I did that. All I wanted was to win. Just once.”

Dmitri’s fingers were cold against your neck. It was soothing, and you leaned closer, your eyes fluttering shut. “It felt good having your hands wrapped around my neck.”

He jerked back. “Oh.”

“Should I not have said that?” You opened your eyes, disappointment caused your eyebrows to furrow.

Almost instantly, Dmitri’s hands found your bruises once more, tracing into the wounds with an unsure touch. “No, no, I’m glad you did.”

You placed your palms firmly against the mat and leaned forward into Dmitri’s hands. “Press harder.”

His eyes flashed, a little twitch to his lips. “Okay.” Pain blossomed from your throat, the burn spreading through your veins to your groin. You shifted slightly, squeezing your thighs together. “Does it… feel good?”

“Mhm.”

When Dmitri pulled away, you let out a little whine and tried to chase his hands. He clicked his tongue. “Stay.”

Your eyes snapped open, obeying without question. It came naturally to you, an instinct rather than a choice. No words left you, there was nothing that needed to be said. Instead, you watched as he stood and brushed the dirt from his thighs. He offered his hand to you, but not before giving you a gentle pat on the head.

“Good dog.” That shouldn’t make you feel as needy as it did. Your cheeks warmed, lips parted, staring up at him. He wiggled his fingers. “Come one. You want to stand, don’t you?”

That snapped you out of your stupor. Though there was still a tingling in your groin, you took his hand and allowed him to hoist you to your feet. You were taller than him. Still, he tapped your cheek a few times, reminiscent of his father.

“Will you go to dinner with me?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I asked you if…” All of his confidence dissipated, a flush creeping up his neck. More embarrassment than whatever it was before. You still weren’t sure. “Do you want to go to dinner…? With me?”

“I eat dinner with you all the time,” you said.

“No, I mean—” Dmitri cut himself off with a scoff. He ran his hand down his face, taking a few steps back from you. “Nevermind.”

“Did…” You began, mouth dry. “Did you mean a date?”

“If you wanted.”

Unable to look at you, he shuffled in place.

As much as you wanted to agree without thinking, for once, you couldn’t help but allow your mind to run wild. So many questions weighed heavy on your tongue, but only two were voiced, “Why now? Why me?”

“Because I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time, but I told myself I wouldn’t ask you until I beat you. I don’t want to be weak anymore. I don’t want you to think that of me.”

“I think you’re beautiful, Dmitri.” He paused at that. His jaw worked up and down, Dmitri fought for a proper response, only for you to bulldoze right past him. “I don’t think you’re weak. Even if you were, it wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

“How do you feel about me?” There was a desperation in his tone as he spoke. His eyes implored — almost begged — you to elaborate.

There was never any choice other than to oblige.

“I think you’re exceptional! I want to make you happy. I want to be the reason you smile. What we have now, I would be satisfied with, but if you…” You trailed off, looking off to the side. “Outside of the contract, you have my loyalty. I am yours, even if you aren’t mine.”

“Do you want me?” Dmitri blurted.

You nodded, speaking as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “More than anything.”

He didn’t hesitate when he reached behind his neck to unclasp his necklace. With a twitch of his fingers, he beckoned you to bend down, his eyes glinting with delight when you obeyed. Tender fingers brushed against your bruises as he wrapped the jewelry tight around your neck. He dragged his hands along the sides of your throat. You shivered.

“Until I get a real collar for you, this will do,” He murmured.

“Collar?”

“For my puppy,” Dmitri laughed. He cradled your cheeks in both hands. “Is that alright?”

Grinning, you agreed the only way you knew how,

“Woof.”

A/N: Okay, short author’s note because I don’t know what to say here. I just really love Dmitri and I think the dynamic he has with this Y/N is particularly fun. They’re freak4freak and stupid4stupid. I know no one is really apart of Dmitri nation anymore and I’m posting for like maybe three people. Probably less, I don’t mind though. If you happen to be one of those three people, leave a like! I’d appreciate it <333

Divider by @/strangergraphics

#dmitri kravinoff x reader #im really not sure what else to tag this #kraven the hunter x reader #fred hechinger #male reader

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gorbo-longstocking · 2 days ago

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god i just reread a little of displeasures of the flesh and holy FUCK???? i COOKED????? damn damn damn

#chattering

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gorbo-longstocking · 2 days ago

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Like A Dog | Chapter One

Pairing: Dmitri Kravinoff/Reader

Summary: You are a mercenary who has been hired to be Dmitri Kravinoff’s bodyguard for the next year. As happy as you are to have someone to order you about, that same joy is not something Dmitri shares. In fact, you are pretty sure he hates you.

Tags: Male reader, you are described as bigger and more broad than Dmitri at one point, blood, parental abuse, Nikolai Kravinoff sucks and is his own warning, also he’s probably ooc, you and Dmitri have complimentary complexes, your nose gets broken, uhhhhh gay people <33

Word Count: 2.7k Words

Dmitri Kravinoff hated you. That was okay, he didn’t have to like you in order for you to do your job, it was simply preferable that he did. You happened to be very lonely. Perhaps it was naive to assume that the son of an infamous drug lord would be friendly, but he was your first assignment where your duty was to protect rather than kill. Plus, he was around your age. Pardon you for being a tad hopeful for a friendship to blossom from your meeting, or at the very least someone to talk to in your down time. That was wishful thinking it seemed because if Dmitri wasn’t pretending you didn’t exist — which was most of the time — he would glare or make a comment under his breath.

It was a shame.

Most of your assignments were spent alone. When you did work with someone, they had a tendency to treat you more as a weapon to point rather than a person. Go here, stand there, be quiet, attack, kill. All were short, snapped orders you received and obeyed with utmost professionalism. You had never worked as a bodyguard before. The Kravinoff job was a trial run for you to see if you were capable of handling slow nights instead of a constant thrill. Good news: you were! Sitting in the club, you happily took up knitting while you listened to your charge play the piano all through the night. Next on your list of hobbies was embroidery. Needlework was good to keep you busy while also not entirely taking your attention off of Dmitri. Sometimes, you would make eye contact with him and flash him a smile. All he did was clench his jaw and go back to playing.

Man, he really didn’t like you. It shouldn’t upset you as much as it did. Dmitri Kravinoff was entitled to his opinion of you, and any disdain he held would not affect how you did your job. He could shoot you himself, it wouldn’t matter, you’d still protect him because you gave your word. A man was nothing without his word.

There was, however, the ever present fact that you really, really wanted Dmitri to like you. Because you were lonely, and because he was pretty, but most importantly, because he was <i>there</i>. Right there, sitting across the club at the piano, playing with expert precision. You tried to meet his eye again. Perhaps this time, your smile would melt his icy heart and you would get to sit a little closer, be a little happier. Dmitri did a double take when he saw you staring at him with that wide, dopey grin, his eyebrows knitting an inch. A hint of hope made your chest swell and your posture followed. Whatever thoughts ran free in Dmitri’s mind, you didn’t know what they could be despite desperately wanting to understand them. His gaze flickered to his father, Nikolai, who sat with a handful of men at an adjacent table, before he frowned at you and returned to playing, a bit more forceful on the keys.

You remembered the first time you met him. There was blood in your hair that you hadn’t been able to wash out yet, the stench of iron thick and cloying to your skin. You absently toyed with your firearm, loading and reloading, determined not to eavesdrop on the conversation between father and son. Even if you were a little curious. Being a son was never a priority for you, being an orphan had the effect. It seemed that it was important to Dmitri to be a good son, though, which was why he hid his clenched fists behind his back as Nikolai explained your presence.

“I don’t need a bodyguard, papa,” Dmitri said, loud enough for you to hear. “I don’t need to be protected.”

Whatever Nikolai said in response you couldn’t make out, all you could focus on was the sinking feeling in your chest. You were not wanted here. Most people wanted your services, or to put you to use, or what you could do, that was the same thing as being wanted in general, you were pretty sure. But, Dmitri, your charge, the man you would give your life to protect because you never did assignments halfway, did not want you here. It shouldn’t upset you as much as it did.

Still, even if a gun was unwanted, it would still be used. Dmitri would still have you at your fullest potential, whether he wanted to or not. In the end, it was your decision, and your devotion was decided the second you signed your name on the contract. You would die for Dmitri Kravinoff, not for money or fame, but because that was your purpose. To serve, and obey, and bark on command.

That was why you were standing without hardly a thought. Nikolai had approached Dmitri, and every muscle in his body was coiled tight under his skin. You knew what fear was. You knew when it was instinctive, when it was learned, and when it was both. Nikolai terrified Dmitri. The acrid stench filled the air as his large hand clamped onto the back of Dmitri’s neck and led him away from the prying eyes of the patrons. Without a second thought, you set down your knitting needles and followed the two into the back of the club.

There wasn’t any shouting, not yet, but you could tell Nikolai was unhappy. Dmitri’s eyes were glassy as he held his ground against his father. He clenched his jaw hard enough for a muscle in his jaw to jump when he saw you approach.

“Papa, he’s here.”

Nikolai rounded on you, stone faced and furious. “Were you aware that someone poisoned my drink?”

You blinked and gave a small shrug, unmoved by the other man’s anger. Only Dmitri’s disdain left a feeling of hollowness in your chest. “I was aware the second the drink left the bar.”

“And you did nothing?” Nikolai was eerily calm given the circumstances. His accent was thicker now. He must be livid.

With another shrug, you allowed your gaze to slide off of Nikolai and onto Dmitri who took the barest of steps back. You gave him a reassuring smile which only seemed to confuse him. “My duty is not to you, sir. I protect Dmitri Kravinoff and only Dmitri Kravinoff, as per our contract.”

The slap was louder than it hurt, but it was still enough to whip your head to the side. There was no retaliation necessary, that was against the contract. All you could do was turn back to face Nikolai, your grin a little sharper now.

“Was that really necessary, sir?”

“You are under my employment,” Nikolai seethed. He had grabbed your chin now, his fingers pressing into the meat of your cheeks. “Not the boy’s.”

You met his gaze easily. “I can recite the contract in full, I have it all memorized. Dmitri Kravinoff is my only priority.”

When Nikolai released your face, you subtly maneuvered your body so that you could easily jump to Dmitri’s aid. It turned out that was a good idea, as Nikolai clenched his jaw — it was here where you realized that there were similarities between father and son — and said, “Let us test that dedication.”

That was the only warning you got before Nikolai had aimed a blow at his son. You managed to see a look of acceptance on Dmitri’s face, implying this was not the first time his father had struck him. That would have to change. It was against the contract to lay a hand on Nikolai Kravinoff, so you did the only thing you could do: you jumped in front of Dmitri.

Stars erupted behind your eyelids as you felt your nose crunch under Nikolai’s fist. Taking a few steps back, you threw out your arm to herd Dmitri behind you, your other hand hovering over your face to catch the blood spilling down your chin.

“You have made your point, sir.” A laugh escaped you, a bit of spittle flying from your lips to mix with your blood. Behind you, Dmitri made a little noise, said something under his breath, furious at someone. You hoped it wasn’t at you.

Nikolai wiped his knuckles on a handkerchief and regarded you with an unimpressed look. “So have you.” Then, with a flick of his wrist, he acknowledged Dmitri. “Clean him up.”

“Yes, papa,” Came a defeated little mutter behind you. Before you could say something snide to Nikolai, the impact of your words sure to be negated from the nasal in your tone, Dmitri grabbed your wrist and pulled you deeper into the club.

He led you to an empty VIP room that obviously wasn’t used often if the dust was anything to go by. Opening a drawer, Dmitri pulled out a bundle of first aid supplies. You plopped down in a chair, your head tilted back to staunch the flow of blood, and watched as he organized his materials.

“Are you alright?” You broke the silence and cringed at how high your voice sounded. Curiously, you poked your nasal ridge and cringed when pain radiated across your face. Nikolai had broken it for sure.

Dmitri didn’t acknowledge you at first, though he did pause his motions. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I’m paid to,” You responded automatically. The bleeding just wouldn’t stop, even with your head back. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips. You regretted it immediately.

“You don’t get paid to get your nose broken instead of me,” He insisted, a mix of anger and… grudging appreciation in his voice. That was nice, perhaps you did something good by doing your job.

“I get paid to protect you,” You reminded him as you prodded at your broken nose again. “Ow.”

Dmitri turned around at your exclamation and frowned at you. “Don’t touch it.” A huff left him when he saw your position. He crossed the room, and with gentle hands, he pushed your head forward. “Don’t lean your head back,” Dmitri scolded. Quieter, he muttered, “You should know this.”

“This is actually the first time I’ve broken my nose.” You allowed Dmitri to dab away at the blood on your chin with gauze, his eyes looking anywhere but at you.

“I find that hard to believe with your occupation.”

When you snorted, a bubble of bloody snot emerged from your nostril. Embarrassed, you reached to wipe it away with the back of your hand, only for Dmitri to swat you away. “I specialize in long range. Guns and stuff. Most people are dead before they can get that close to me.”

“Right, right.” The pads of his fingers were light against your jaw as he fixed you up. It wasn’t until he set your nose, and the gasp that escaped you, did he speak again, “Seriously, why did you do that? It wouldn’t be the first time he hit me.”

“Well, for the next year, he won’t again,” You proclaimed, puffing up with a hand on your chest. Dmitri stopped dabbing to look at you, genuinely for the first time, his gaze scrutinizing.

“Why?”

You blinked. Surely, it was obvious. “Because I’m supposed to protect you.”

“I don’t need to be protected,” Dmitri responded, possibly out of habit if the hardness in his voice was anything to go by. “I don��t get why you’re so— so— devoted to me. It’s weird.”

“Do you want the truth?”

His brows furrowed. “I’m not asking to be lied to.”

“It’s because this is my job and I like you. I think you’re neat.” You said it with a shrug and a nonchalance befitting of the confession.

Dmitri frowned, a dainty expression. “… You think I’m ‘neat’?’”

A flush heated your cheeks, shame creeping up the back of your neck. “I— Well, you’re my age and— and you play the piano, and can do that really cool thing with your voice. I don’t… I don’t…” You trailed off.

“You do not have many friends, do you?” Dmitri asked in his father’s voice, a little smirk making his lips quirk upwards.

Barking out a laugh, a clot of blood shot from your right nostril and down the front of your shirt. Dmitri let out a disgusted noise, which only made you laugh harder. “Nope! Being a mercenary makes it really, really hard to make any friends.”

“You’re weird.” There was fondness in his voice now, humor that made the insult a compliment. You preened under the attention.

“If we’re asking questions, why do you hate me?” Kicking your feet slightly, you watched as Dmitri sat next to you, tossing the bloody gauze into the trashcan halfway across the room. He missed the first one, but let you make the second throw. Slam dunk.

He hummed in response, a bit more subdued than before. “You’re walking, talking proof of everything my father sees when he looks at me. That I’m weak. That I need someone else to protect me. I hated that. Not you.”

“Coulda fooled me,” You said as you nudged him playfully with your elbow. Dmitri was quite a bit smaller than you, in both height and breadth. With your arm so close to his, the contrast was more evident than ever. A dusting of pink colored his cheeks, much to your confusion. You hoped you didn’t embarrass him.

“I don’t hate you,” He tried again. This time, his gaze met yours and you realized, with an edge of dismay, he could get you to do anything, contract or no, simply by looking at you. “It— Looking at you made me mad. At myself.” He scrubbed at his face with the heel of his palm. “You understand, right?”

You shrugged and prodded at your broken nose again. “Not really. I’m just happy you don’t hate me.”

Dmitri grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand into your lap. “Stop messing with it, you’ll make it heal crooked.”

“Oh, that’d be cool, it’d make me look even scarier,” You said earnestly with a broad grin.

“You’re not scary to begin with.” He wrapped his fingers around yours when you tried to poke at your wounds once more, squeezing it tight. “I know scary, my dad’s scary. You’re not.”

Another laugh escaped you as a hint of a flush warmed your cheeks. Casually, you unwrapped your hand from his, uncalloused and smooth, pressing your palms together between you. Some of your blood, dry, but still somewhat tacky, transferred over to Dmitri’s skin. “You wouldn’t think that if you were staring at the muzzle of my gun.”

“Probably not.”

“I have a proposition for you.” Pulling your hand away, you kicked your feet excitedly as you awaited Dmitri’s response.

He cocked his head to the side. “What is it?”

“I’ll teach you how to protect yourself. Guns are my specialty, but I know hand-to-hand as well.”

“I know how to shoot. My dad taught me.”

With your chest puffed out, you placed your hand over your heart. “Well, I’m a way better teacher than your dad, and a way better shot.”

Dmitri chuckled, looking a little nervous towards the door. “Don’t let papa hear you say that.”

“Who cares if he hears? You don’t want to be weak. Let me help you, really help you.”

“I just—” He cut himself off with a sigh before running a hand along his jaw. “Okay, fine. How do I know you’re not going to beat me up?”

A snort left you, making your nose ache even more. Miming a few playful punches to Dmitri’s gut, which made him flinch, you quickly pulled back with an apologetic frown. “I won’t hurt you for serious. You have my word.”

“I know, I know.” Though the way he slowly uncurled from his defensive position made you hesitate. “When are we doing this?”

“Mondays and Wednesdays, every week. We start with long range combat before switching to close range.” Softer, you added, “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Dmitri nodded, tiny, though not hesitant. He was determined if anything, and it made you think you were doing the right thing. “Getting self defense lessons from a mercenary. I guess there are worse ways to spend my time.”

And thus began the first friendship of your lonely life.

A/N: I watched Kraven the Hunter for Fred Hechinger and I would like to pick Dmitri up and put him in my pocket forever. This idea struck me like a bolt of lightning because I don’t think with how Dmitri views himself and his particular insecurities that a bodyguard would be well received by him. Especially one his father hired. I also think that yn taking a blow for him resulted in a messy, tangled bunch of emotions that there was no way he could work through without straight up subliminals, or meditation, or some shit. I dunno, Dmitri is deeply fascinating to me and I am super excited to explore him with a character like the yn in this. Strong, but unfailingly obedient to him. Mostly because yn has a massive, lonely ass crush on Dmitri he hasn’t had an opportunity to recognize. Yay, gay people! There will be two other chapters to this little series, one sfw and the last one being pure smut. Because I’m insane and I have Dmitri smut takes that would knock the socks off of a victorian.

Okay, bye, if you enjoyed this I dare you to tell me xoxo <33

Divider by @/strangergraphics

#reblogging this again because chapter two of this fic will be posted in a few hours #there r gonna be four chapters now #maybe five #if im feeling it #BUT STAY TUNED

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gorbo-longstocking · 2 days ago

Note

love y/n following every weird alien action with "sorry for being disgusting 😔"

their self loathing knows no bounds 😭 a thing i really, really, REALLY love thats prevalent in almost all of my works is loving someone at their grossest. i like making moments of vulnerability gross, i guess, in a way. like broken nose? blood clot. crying? snot and drool is mentioned. and this particular aspect is suuuuuper heavy in osd. i love LOVE the idea of being perceived by others disgusting, but adored anyway. having the best of you seen even while you’re at your worst, and having every aspect of yourself accepted. from when you’re dolled up and beautiful, to when your drunk as shit, making an ass of yourself and puking all over your lovers shoes. i want to capture that sooooooo bad.

yn will always apologize for being “disgusting” and maybe johnny IS grossed out. it doesnt matter in the long run, he still cares about them. they still have a connection. IDK IDK DOES THIS MAKE SENSE 😭😭

#asks #osd

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gorbo-longstocking · 2 days ago

Text

Only Skin Deep | Chapter Five

Pairing: Johnny Storm/Reader

Summary: You’re whole again, but, of course, that comes with some questions. Who are you? Why did you come to Earth? Do you mean anyone harm? Most of the answers come easily, but some, especially regarding your family… Well, you had never been a good liar.

CW: Sickness, body horror, referenced past abuse, soft Johnny Storm.

Word Count: 5.7k Words

Read on AO3

Masterlist

When you opened your eyes, you were in an elevator. You were shivering despite the warmth that enveloped you. It felt like you were sitting in front of a warm fire, and frigid wind was still biting through your thick clothing. A thumb rubbed against your skin in an attempt to soothe you, and you felt yourself slump further against the body holding you. There was a slight murmur, the sound of voices, and a rhythmic thudding against your ear. A moan left you. When you stirred, the murmuring stopped. The thudding, however, continued, faster and stronger than before.

“They’re waking up,” Johnny’s voice, closer than you expected. Though your eyes were open, your vision was blurry, agony radiating from your missing stomach. The more you shivered, the hotter it became until the trembling was less from the cold and more from the unfamiliar feeling of being in another’s arms. Johnny’s face appeared in your line of sight, only recognizable by the blond hair atop his head. Two pools of blue settled upon a fuzzy visage staring down at you. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

“This is good, the likelihood of them falling into a coma was high. Keep them awake under any circumstances. We’re almost at the lab.” That was Reed. Your head spun when you moved to look at him. Meeting his eyes, he gave you a tight smile, more awkward than anything else. It wasn’t cruel, though. That was what mattered.

You tried to stand, only for the hold on you to grow tighter. Under your knees was an arm, fingers gripping the side of your leg. Another arm looped around your shoulders, cradling you close to Johnny’s chest. “Careful, I don’t want to drop you.”

If you were any more aware, you would have flushed. Here you were, in the arms of Johnny Storm, your savior and hero, the one person who would vouch for and listen to you through it all. That was what he promised, wasn’t it? You couldn’t quite remember. Everything in your head was turning into soup. Still, butterflies crawled up your spine. “Thank you.”

“See, Reed? They have manners. What kind of threat to humanity has manners?” The elevator doors opened with a whoosh of air. Before he started walking forward, Johnny hefted you higher into his arms, leaning back to accommodate your weight.

Reed hummed, his lips pursed. “I didn’t call them that. All I said was that they could be dangerous. For all we know, they could be another Herald, or perhaps a precursor to a being even more powerful than one we faced before.”

“Sounds exactly like what you said,” Johnny retorted.

Their conversation faded into the background. There was an intense pulling sensation at the base of your spine. You could feel it, the piece of yourself, yanking taut against your flesh. It was as though you had a hook caught in your mouth, reeling you against your will out of the water. All you could think of was how good it would feel to be whole again. You rolled out of Johnny’s arms, falling on your hands and knees to the floor.

“Woah! Hold on, I got them.” Johnny’s hands brushed against your waist, about to grab you, before you scrambled away. He jerked back, his eyebrows knit. An uncomfortable laugh left him. “Do you not want to be held? You still need help. Will you let me help you?”

Lifting your head from the floor, you saw it. Inside of a glass container was ‘you,’ a greenish-gray sludge glinting in the fluorescent lights. Reed was nearby, typing a code on a keyboard. Desperate, you tried to crawl towards it, tears streaming down your face as the emptiness in your gut yawned wider. It hurt now more than ever.

You whined, “Need it, please.”

“On it.” With practiced ease, Johnny knelt down and threw your arm around his shoulders. The world shifted on its axis as he lifted you to stand. Just as he did before at the restaurant, he supported your weight easily, your own footsteps shaky. “Open the tank, Reed.”

“Working on it.”

Johnny groaned and helped you along a little faster. “Why do you make your passwords so long? God forbid we’re on a time limit.”

Reed looked up, his eyes sliding over your slumped form. “Would you prefer anyone able to hack into our databases?”

“This is the equivalent of opening tupperware, Reed. Your password doesn’t need to be three miles long.” When he focused his attention on you, Johnny’s voice was softer. “Almost there. You’ll feel better after this?”

You didn’t respond. Eyes trained ahead, you jolted from Johnny’s grasp to stumble forward. Catching yourself on the table, you reached for the container. Your fingertips brushed against glass, cold like your insides. The sludge inside responded in turn, bubbling and inching towards your outstretched hand. If it took breaking Reed Richard’s stupid container to feel whole again, so be it.

“Don’t.” You turned towards Reed’s warning. He was staring at you, his fingers working diligently despite his attention being elsewhere. He must have seen the intent in your expression. Beside you, Johnny hovered, ready to catch you in case you fell. “I’m almost done.”

“Hurry,” You pleaded.

There was a hand between your shoulder blades, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. It helped, if only a little. Your focus was solely on the sludge that should have been your stomach, waiting, waiting, waiting, for it to be a part of you again.

“Please,” You breathed.

The glass opened and the slime latched onto your skin within seconds. Both wet and firm, it left no residue behind as it crawled up your forearm, twisting around your elbow, and then climbing your shoulder to your neck. You flared your nostrils in preparation, careful to breathe through your mouth as two tiny rivulets ran up your nose. A shiver wracked your body when you felt it slip through your sinuses, making it hard to properly breathe. Breathing through your mouth was both embarrassing and loud, but you were left with no other choice. A bit of drool attached your upper and lower lips to each other, heaving with each gasping inhale. It was hard to focus through the sensations of yourself slithering through your skull.

Slowly, it seeped into your mouth, congealing against your tongue. It tasted bitter, texture smooth like pudding. Your esophagus bulged when it plopped fully into the back of your throat. Instinctively, you swallowed. A feeling of relief washed over you, almost causing your knees to buckle. The texture was heavy as it slid down, down, deep inside of you, before it shifted back into what it was supposed to be in the first place. When you opened your mouth, strands of gray were stuck to your teeth, and you ran your tongue over the material to gather it up. With another swallow, you were whole again, the pain slowly dissipating with a feeling of cooling numbness.

Loudly, your stomach growled. You flushed and let your head drop with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry.”

Reed stared at you, fascination plain on his face. When you turned to Johnny, you saw a look of disgust on his features before he schooled it back to gentle concern. Unable to help it, shame made your heart drop. “That was gross, wasn’t it.”

Johnny let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“Not gross,” He lied. It was sweet that he was trying to make you feel better. “More like weird.”

“It was incredible,” Reed interrupted. He circled the table to study you at a closer angle, his eyebrows furrowed. “Why did you forgo your mouth during the reintegration process? Surely, that would be more convenient for you.”

Nervous, you shrugged and didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know, it just happens like that sometimes.”

“So, you had no control over the separated part?”

You shook your head. “Not until it becomes a part of me again.”

The line of questioning was making you uncomfortable. You backed up a few paces, only to press against Johnny’s chest. A pleasant tremble crawled through your veins. His hands were gentle against your upper arms, voice soft. “You’re feeling better, though, right? That’s what matters.” Johnny hummed, feeling how tense you were, fingers kneading your flesh. He turned his attention to his brother-in-law. “Knock it off, they’re shaking.”

To his credit, Reed paused his observations. Once he saw that you were, in fact, shaking, he took a few steps back to keep from crowding you. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You waited for Johnny to respond before you realized he was apologizing to you. Blinking, you pursed your lips and shifted from foot to foot. “It’s alright. Everyone’s curious about me.”

“You can say that again,” Johnny laughed. Now that he was certain you wouldn’t topple over, he let you go and gave you your space. You missed his touch with enough force to stagger you, hands twitching uncontrollably at your sides. The urge to follow him was strong, your muscles tense, but you remained stationary.

“Here.” There was a protein bar in your line of sight. You looked up to see it was Reed offering it to you.

Tentatively, you took it, careful not to touch him. “Thank you.”

He pulled back, continuing to watch you, though his wariness was slowly dissipating. “You need to eat. I’m sure you’re starving.”

Unwrapping the bar, you took a cautious bite. Once the sweet flavor hit your tongue, you realized how starved for calories you really were. Both men watched you as you devoured the rest of the bar in only a few bites, Reed knowingly, and Johnny, with his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. You paused, licking the crumbs from your hands, a flush warming the tips of your ears.

“Sorry.”

Johnny smiled at you. “Don’t be.” He padded over to the desk and opened a drawer, displaying a handful of similar protein bars. “Help yourself.”

Reed clicked his tongue. “Don’t eat too much. Your stomach may not be able to handle it.”

“I can make it stretch,” You said, shoving as many bars into your backpack as you could. It was in a different pocket than what you were keeping Johnny’s stolen clothes in. You really didn’t want him finding out about that.

Johnny hovered around you, still somewhat concerned. “So you can eat whatever you want?”

“Um…” Technically, your biology was considered top secret information. Only your parents and their innumerable colleagues had clearance to your files. Then again, after all the conferences and peer reviews, a few more people knowing wouldn’t hurt. They were only human, after all, it wasn’t as though they could share galactic secrets with your parent's enemies. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt. “I can eat practically anything. When I ingest toxins, my body instinctively shifts in order to process them properly. It’s sort of uncomfortable sometimes, but…” You trailed off with a flush. Reed was not so subtly taking notes, much to Johnny’s annoyance. “What I’m trying to say is I’ll be fine.”

“What about your environment?” Reed questioned, ignoring Johnny’s glare. “Does your body naturally shift to adapt?”

Too awkward to speak aloud, you merely nodded.

Johnny walked past Reed and dragged an office chair over to you. “You can ignore him if you want. I always do.” Pushing the chair in your direction, it rolled until it bumped your hip. He grinned. “Sit down. Let’s talk.”

You were quickly coming to learn when a pretty boy told you what to do, you would obey without a second thought. Like a trained dog, you sat, backpack clutched tightly to your chest. “… What will we talk about?”

Johnny sat on the edge of the u-shaped desk while Reed pulled up a chair across from you. That one didn’t have wheels. It scraped across the floor loudly. Reed was the one who spoke, much to your dismay. Johnny was your preference. “We want to know who you are. What you are. But most importantly, we want to know why.”

“Why?” You repeated, eyes wide.

“Why you came to Earth,” Reed clarified.

Johnny followed, the barest hint of frustration in the set of his jaw, “Why you took my shape and scared the living hell out of my family.”

You ducked your head. Shame made your face burn. “I— I was being stupid, I’m sorry. I meant no harm.”

“You really upset Sue. My sister.” Johnny leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, his gaze imploring. “Look, I want to trust you. I want to believe you don’t mean any harm, but you understand why that’s hard, right? I know you’re sorry, I just want to know why.”

You didn’t know why you looked to Reed for help. He met your gaze, but didn’t waver. Being under Johnny’s disappointment felt suffocating. You squirmed in place, unable to look at either man. “I was… I was watching you and I wanted to see closer. I didn’t realize I had shifted to look like you, so when I noticed it I thought… I thought it was a good opportunity to…”

“To what?” Reed probed.

You began sliding your palms along the lengths of your thighs, applying pressure to ground yourself. “You all looked so happy. I wanted to… be apart of that too.”

Johnny released an audible breath while Reed’s posture loosened ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry for scaring everyone,” You continued, voice small and watery. “When Sue Storm-Richards held me in place, I was so scared. I felt trapped and—” You cut yourself off with a harsh swallow.

“And you would have done anything to escape from that trap?” Johnny finished for you. When you nodded, he softened even more. Reaching out, he ruffled your hair and you felt your heart pound at the contact.

“That brings us to why you came to our planet.” While Johnny seemed satisfied, Reed certainly wasn’t. All you wanted to do was melt into the floor and never come back. “Why Earth? Who sent you? What do you want from humanity?”

Sweat beaded at your forehead. As much as you loved your family, you didn’t want Reed — and especially Johnny — to find out your… status according to the wider galaxy. Asset-4426. That was your real name, if it could be considered one. It wasn’t what you chose, though, the one you liked, the one that represented you. It was what you were called by those who didn’t see you for what you were. None of the Fantastic Four needed to know that you were an experiment— not a person. Hearing your false name from Johnny’s lips would break you. Of that, you were certain.

They couldn’t know. No matter what, the Fantastic Four could never know. You would do whatever you had to do to make sure of that.

“It was an— an accident,” You stammered. It wasn’t an entire lie yet, it was what you wanted the truth to be. Maybe if you believed it enough, it would become real. “My sister was messing around with one of the escape pods and I fell in. The coordinates were locked in before she had a chance to fetch our p— parents. They’re devastated, I’m sure.”

Reed straightened again, his eyes studying yours. “That’s what coming here was? An accident?”

“You’re not lying?” Johnny asked, skeptical as well. He turned to Reed, though he spoke to you. “That means your family is coming for you soon.”

Maybe. There was no guarantee that they would. You couldn’t meet his eyes. “Yes.”

Reed and Johnny shared an unreadable look, but it was the former who spoke. “Alright. What is your family like? Are they like you?”

“I’m… adopted.” Shuffling your feet, both men waited patiently for you to continue. It was hard to find your voice. Lying was not your strong suit, so you decided to tell what little truth you could. “My family are an insectoid species, most of which study the sciences. Their kind is known for being some of the leading minds in the galaxy. Mother and father are top rung.”

Contrary to the energy he was exuding earlier, Johnny looked excited, like a dog who heard the word treat. You could practically see his tail wag. “Insectoid aliens. Could you show us what they look like? Shift into them, for example?”

You expected Reed to interrupt, but all he did was watch you. When you blinked at him, waiting for permission, he nodded. “Yes. A demonstration of your abilities would be appreciated.”

“Okay.” First, you settled your backpack on the floor before you pulled your shirt over your head.

“Woah!” Johnny exclaimed, turning away to give you privacy.

Reed had a similar reaction, his cheeks a tad darker. “That was unnecessary."

“I do not wish to rip my shirt,” You said, confused. “What’s the big deal?”

Finally, Johnny took a deep breath and faced you. His eyes dropped to your bare chest, then returned to your face, his awkwardness palpable. “Oh. Nevermind, then.”

That caused Reed to turn back around. “Ah. You don’t have breasts.”

“… Should I have breasts?"

“If you want?” Johnny tried. He seemed uncomfortable as he rubbed the back of your neck. “I certainly wouldn’t complain.”

You looked down at yourself. When you took on a human form, there were aspects to it that you didn’t quite understand. In particular, the large mounds upon some human’s chests, and the pointed peaks decorating them further. They were mammalian traits, you knew that much, but their purpose escaped you. Your family was made up of arthropods, who hatched from eggs in larval form, pupating between the stages of life until they reached adulthood. In order to seem more like your parents' biological spawn, you took on their species’ features. Accidentally, at first, before you stuck with it in hopes they would love you more. As curious as you were, given Reed and Johnny’s discomfort, you would try not to satiate yourself. For now.

Standing now, you took a deep breath and began to shift. Your skin hardened, bones moving from inside your flesh to the outside in order to form a pinkish-red exoskeleton. From beneath your first set of shoulders, two more arms appeared, fingers long and clawed. They grew like vines, from soft, pale flesh underneath before the exoskeleton hid the rows of veins and muscles from view. You remembered that your parents kept their nails trimmed, so you allowed your own to dull. Hair turned into antenna and feelers, hanging loosely from your scalp, only to perk to attention when Reed began scribbling into his notepad. Your vision took on a familiar, honeycomb pattern as your eyes became compound, and familiar mandibles burst from your fleshy lips. Nervous little clicks and chirps emitted from you as you did a little spin, allowing both men to admire your new form.

"This is the coolest thing I have ever seen in my life,” Johnny finally managed to say, staring at you in wonder. He beamed at you, his teeth white under the fluorescents. “You’re the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” Slowly, he reached out his hand. “Can I touch you?”

Nodding, you leaned into his palm, relishing in his excited gasp. “A real exoskeleton. Reed, are you seeing this?”

“I am, Johnny.” He was as awed as you felt when you first set foot in New York City. A flustered chitter escaped you, and Johnny’s grin only grew.

“What does that mean? Is that your first language?”

“Just a…” Your voice was layered in this form, the English awkward, chewed, in your alien mouth. “Just a flustered noise.”

Before he could question you again, you shifted back into your favorite human shape, the one you wore before, and sat back down. Reed handed you your shirt. You slipped it back over your head.

Once you were comfortable, Reed began questioning you once more, his voice soft. He set his notes to the side so his focus could be on you. “Thank you for that, but we must continue. Will your parents be angry with the people of Earth for you ending up here?”

That, you weren’t sure of.

“As long as I return to them, everything will be fine,” You finally decided upon. Quieter, you added, “They love me very much.”

Reed nodded, a strange glimmer in his eye. He gestured for Johnny to come closer. You knew he was about to whisper something private, and you knew that it was wrong to eavesdrop, but you heightened your hearing all the same.

“They’re lying about something.”

Johnny nodded, muttering in turn, “I know.”

You kept your gaze trained on the floor, careful not to let either man know you heard.

Reed said your name softly, much kinder than you anticipated. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Nothing weird,” Johnny chimed in, mouth full of half of a protein bar. When had he started eating? You were so lost from reality, so nervous, you could barely focus.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Johnny,” Reed chided before focusing back on you. “While we figure out the best way to break the news of your existence to the public, I would like you to work at Baxter Building. I’ll find something for you, along with providing a bank account in your name, and simple work you will be able to take care of.”

“And… in return?”

“Nothing,” Johnny assured, nudging you slightly with his knuckle. “This is a safe place for you. We want you to know that.”

Reed cleared his throat, his face pinched, about to contradict Johnny. “Actually, I was hoping you would allow me to run a few tests as well. Simple ones.”

You felt your shoulders hike up to your ears. More tests, more studies. These activities were no stranger to you, and they always hurt. Unfortunately, you were in no position to deny him. “Okay.”

“You don’t have to agree,” Johnny said softly.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Fidgeting with your sleeve, you met Johnny’s gaze and tried not to get lost in his eyes. “I don’t mind.”

“If you’re sure,” He conceded, though not without shooting a glare at Reed. His lips parted slightly, and you watched Johnny perk up, a metaphorical light bulb blinking on over his head. He turned to his brother-in-law, wearing a grin. “Can I talk to them alone?”

What he got in response was a sigh. “If you must. I will see you both tomorrow.”

Reed looked at you expectantly.

“You will,” You said.

Satisfied, though you could tell there was more he wanted to say, he left you alone with Johnny. You felt your heart still. He was even more beautiful than you remembered in your hazy recollections of the past few hours. Tousled blond hair, crystal clear blue eyes, that grin that was accompanied by a twitch of his cheek. His arms looked exceptional in those short sleeves, his biceps drawing your appreciative gaze like a moth to a flame. He caught your stare, looking rather pleased with himself, before he hopped down from his spot on the desk and took Reed’s chair.

“You’re backwards,” came your awkward reply. His legs were spread, forearms resting upon the head of the seat.

He cocked his head to the side. “Observant and pretty.”

Pursing your lips, you tried not to smile. “Um.”

“And shy,” Johnny noted, neutral on the matter, even if his grin said otherwise. A shadow passed over his face, seemingly remembering what he wanted to talk to you about. “There’s something I want to make sure you know.”

“Yeah?”

His stare met yours, holding eye contact as sincerely as he could. “It’s okay if you’re lying about anything. I won’t be mad at you, especially if you come clean now. I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, all I want is to help you. I can’t help you if you’re not being honest.”

“I know,” Your murmured.

“That’s why I want you to trust me. Be truthful with me.” Johnny took a deep breath and tapped your chin when your gaze slid off him, onto the floor. “Have you lied about anything today?”

It came easier than you expected. “No.”

Disappointment flickered in Johnny’s smile, though he kept his promise. He wasn’t mad, even if you felt like you were going to be sick. “Okay. I trust you.”

That made you feel even worse. Your stomach churned, threatening to spew half-digested protein bar from between your lips. “I… Tr— Thank you.”

If Johnny noticed the slip, you couldn’t tell. Instead, he stood and offered you his hand to help you to your feet. There was no hesitation when it came to touching you, unlike others. Scientists, like mother and father, kept their contact clinical and cold. Johnny was warm, his skin soft against yours. With ease, he pulled you up. You felt yourself flush at the display of strength. Unconsciously, your grip on him tightened when he tried to pull away.

“You’re a clingy one,” He commented playfully, deciding to stay attached to you as he led you to the elevator. Your face fell and you moved to disengage, only for him to give your hand a small squeeze. “That’s okay. I think it’s cute.”

“No one’s ever called me cute before,” You mumbled as the doors slid shut.

Johnny pressed the button for the ground floor, his eyebrows furrowed. “That’s crazy, you’re adorable.”

“I can…” The elevator beeped as it passed each floor, punctuating your pause. Turning your gaze up to Johnny, a wobbly smile on your lips, you shook ever so slightly. “I can look like this whenever I come. Would you like that? I can appear however you like.”

Something flickered across Johnny’s face, too fast for you to pick up. It looked like realization, before it fell into worry. His features grew even softer, staggering in its gentleness. Your heart stuttered in your chest, tears beginning to well in your eyes. No one ever looked at you like that. Not before Johnny, at least.

“How many friends do you have back home?” He asked. It was an innocent question that, for some reason, seemed to hold a lot of weight. Even if you lied, you were certain Johnny would be able to tell.

“Less than you.”

Johnny laughed, more of that nauseating concern leaking into his smile. “That’s not a whole lot.”

You shook your head. “Others don’t like me very much. They find me weird.”

“Has…” The elevator reached the ground floor, the door sliding open. “Has anyone ever hurt you because they think you’re weird?”

Unable to help it, you froze, a cold chill creeping up your spine. You let go of Johnny’s hand as if he had burned you and kept your gaze forward so that he couldn’t make out the terror on your face. “Goodbye. Thank you for being so nice to me.”

“Wait.” Johnny said your name, but he didn’t grab you. He called your name, and you ignored it, eyes trained forward, aimed for the door. “You’ll be back tomorrow, right?”

“Yes!” You called back, desperate to keep the shakiness from your tone.

That seemed to keep Johnny at bay. It was only when you were beyond the doors did you look back to see him running a hand through his hair. He looked upset, at himself, or at you. The latter made you want to cry even more than you already did. Rather than dwell, you shifted to a new form, backpack firm against your shoulders, and made your way back to central park. It would be a long walk, perhaps you should start using public transit.

That cost money, though.

Money…

Realization struck you, and all negativity oozed from your pores like mildew. Excitement replaced it, warm and bright behind your ribs. Reed would set up a bank account for you! All you had to do was show up at Baxter Building, do a few experiments, and you could treat Blake to more than you could offer before. If he wasn’t still mad at you, of course. As if that would stop you. When it came down to it, you would drag him kicking and screaming to some fun activity, whether he liked it or not.

Besides, you were whole again. You would be useful once more, and Blake wouldn’t want to get rid of you. It was perfect.

Smile firmly in place, you practically skipped to where you met Blake every day, metaphorical stars glimmering around your head. Johnny had been so kind to you, so warm, so delightful. A giddy laugh pulled from your throat as you gave a little twirl around a strop sign. You wished you hadn’t been so out of it when Johnny was carrying you. Only in hindsight could you properly enjoy it. Warm and soft, you fit together with him so perfectly. While his final question weighed heavily in the back of your mind, like all thoughts that made your skin crawl, you repressed it until you could no longer feel it. Instead, you basked in your crush, dancing down the sidewalk and annoying everyone you bumped into. It didn’t matter, you told yourself, even if you wished those nasty glares wouldn’t stick with you late in the night. Johnny liked you, and that was all that mattered.

In the distance, you saw Blake with his guitar, and through your hands over your head. “Blake!”

He whipped around, glaring daggers into you. The loud announcement of your presence chased away some of his patrons. Rather than continue to play, he thanked those left behind, and settled his guitar in his case.

“You look chipper,” He said when you were close enough to hear him without him having to yell.

Patting your belly, you grinned. “I’m whole again!”

Blake sat up on the bench, leaving room for you to join him. It was as good of an invitation as you would get from the teenager. “That’s good, I guess.”

“What have you been up to?” You asked, plopping down next to him.

He ignored you, proposing a question of his own. “How did you get the piece back?”

“I went to find Johnny Storm—” You punctuated his name with a dreamy sigh, a flush heating your nose “— And he helped me.”

Blake blinked, a muscle in his cheek jumping. “That’s it. No sneaking, no nothing?”

“Nope.” Pausing, you tapped a little awkward tune onto your thighs. “Well, there were some awkward conversations, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I got a job!”

“You got a job,” Blake deadpanned. “You sneak into Baxter Building and you get a job. I sneak into Baxter Building and the big rock guy gives me a ride home and the lecture of the century. Are you kidding me?”

“You snuck into Baxter Building?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “I was trying to help you, but I got caught. Boy, did that suck.”

Unbidden, tears welled in your eyes — you had cried so much today, you were certain you were dehydrated — your heart swelling with affection. “You… snuck into Baxter Building to help me?”

Blake groaned and rolled his eyes. “Do not look at me like that, or I’ll never talk to you again. I just need you to be normal so you can protect me, that’s it.”

Blinking your eyes dry, your beam was practically blinding. “Well, now that I have a job, we can go do fun stuff together. Reed Richards is setting up a bank account for me.”

“You mean we can find someplace to sleep that’s not a bench and food to eat that’s actually good, right? That’s the priority.”

The tips of your ears felt hot. “Oh, yes, that too.”

Blake shook his head, unable to hide the fondness in his smile. “I was a dick before.”

That caught you off guard. The idea of holding that against him didn’t even cross your mind.

“I don’t care,” You assured him, reaching over to pat his head. “Sometimes friends are mean to each other.”

“No. Not like that. You’re too… I’m not used to people like you. Too nice, too earnest. It’s weird because you’re scary and kind of a freak, but you’re so… so…” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “You’re a good person and I’m not.”

“You’re fifteen, Blake, you’re still learning how to be a person. I’m not going to be upset with you.” With a small smile, you curled your knees to your chest. “I’m also learning how to be a person, I think.”

“I’m well aware.” He let out a dry laugh, ducking from under your stare.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence. People passed by, not bothering to spare either of you a glance.

Of course, you had to ruin the moment. A question bubbled under your skin, and as much as you didn’t want to pry, you were curious. The answer affected you too, after all. “Hey. Where did Ben Grimm drive you to if you don’t have a home?”

“My uncle’s gym. I had him drop me off outside and then came here when the coast was clear.” When you let out a sigh of relief, Blake snorted. “What? Don’t want your precious Johnny Storm to know you’re a bum?”

“I don’t want him to think any less of me than he already does.”

“Ugh.” Blake let out an annoyed groan and peered at you from behind his bangs. “You’re endearing, you’ll be fine. You’re like a mushroom. Cordyceps. Inescapable.”

Whether it was a compliment or not, you felt your heart swell. “Like cordyceps. I like that.”

“You shouldn’t.” Hopping to his feet, he began to walk, expecting you to follow. You scrambled to catch up, your backpack bouncing with every step.

“What now?”

“Now?” He huffed and pointed to an ice cream stand in the distance. “Now, you’re stealing me an ice cream cone. Chop, chop, alien.”

With a playful salute, you giggled and shifted your form to match a father who ran off to catch his toddler. Their order would be unattended, ripe for the taking.

“Be back soon, captain.”

There were a lot of emotions warring inside of you. For now, though, you decided that you felt good. It was hard to feel anything but good when you were eating ice cream with a dear friend.

A/N: This will be another short author’s note, but hey guys! I’m back again, a brand new update in tow. As always, I want to say thank you for the amazing kindness and comments you guys have given me. Mostly on Ao3, but if you interact with this story on any platform, just know I’d kill for you. It truly means a lot.

My only comments on this chapter is, yes, Johnny was manipulating his body temperature to keep Y/N comfortable while he held them. I’ve read some if the 2023 Fabtastic Four comic run, and I’m taking a few bits from that particular run. Specifically, the immense control Johnny has over his powers. There’s one part in that run where Johnny gets his ass beat by a regular guy while flamed on, simply because he would never purposefully burn or hurt someone is sooooo. Okay. IDK, he’s just a good guy. Mixing this with his protective and self-sacrificial nature is so much fun. God. Johnnyyyyyyyyy. I Love Yewwww.

Lastly. Reed did NOT run hiring Y/N plan by Sue or Ben. He didn’t even tell Johnny, he just sprung it and Johnny’s more than happy with that outcome. Sue and Ben? Not so much. Will they be pleased? Probably not! Find out in chapter six when Sue hunts Y/N for sport through an office building.

That’s really it for this chapter. Sort of. I’m not… super happy with this one. It feels choppy in places and the flow feels strange, but fuck it, we ball. Thank you so much for reading! I always say it, but it truly means the world. Leave a comment if you’re feeling up to it, they always make me smile!!! Till next time, bye bye!

Taglist: @rjodie181 @euphrosyn3 @blackbearbluues @meimua @boo8008 @justlibra @exeo130-blog @foggyturtleknightangel @himikoquack @ch3eseking94 @fannypackmanny

#johnny storm x reader #marvel x reader #fantastic 4 x reader #mcu fanfiction #mcu x reader #johnny storm x y/n #johnny storm x you #marvel fanfiction #osd update

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