soullesscoffee

[soullesscoffee]

i can’t stop thinking about this particular scene

[soullesscoffee]

It's been a long time coming || Johnny Storm

Pairing: Johnny Storm (FFFS) x female! reader

Summary: What happens when a moment of callous words pushes aside a beloved childhood friend of Johnny's? Can he recover the damage? When the world is ending one should speak the words they've been afraid to... but that doesn't always mean those words will be received well. (No use of y/n)

Warnings: some light angst; smut; unprotected sex (be gone children); switching dom/sub but johnny leans more sub; tender sex; first time together but not first time sex; mutual pining; mild spoilers for FFFS (but mostly just content from the trailer/assumed outcome for any hero movie); exhibitionism; sex against those glass windows of his room...; very brief mentions of protected six but this is unprotected (Franklin NameDrop for unforeseen consequences); unedited we die lie gods

Word Count: 20,178

Author's Note: I am still on hiatus but had a little moment of inspo. Not my fault they dropped a blond hair, blue eyed engineer in my lap who loves space, especially when I already have one of those in real life. 10/10 can recommend them. Anyways consider this my post and ghost. Not really in a mood explain myself. Enjoy folks.

“Hold your loved ones close. And speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak.” 

Months. It had been months since he’d heard a word. Johnny had written letters. Dozens of them, all pleading for just a single phone call, a telegram, anything. But it was as if the Arctic Circle itself swallowed every message whole. He tried everything, even calling the Harvard anthropology department just to confirm: yes, she had received the letters. No, she hadn’t frozen to death. Yet all the signs pointed to a word he dreaded to admit: rejection. Johnny Storm —infamous hero, playboy, the human torch blazing through headlines — was powerless to spark a reaction from the one person who truly mattered.

After their mother died and their father was arrested, Johnny and Sue had little time to grieve. They packed up and moved halfway across the country to live with their aunt. Sue was lucky. Already with one foot out the door since she’d been in high school, she’d been able to leave their shattered world behind faster than he had. But Johnny… he was still young, still wide-eyed and naive, barely grasping the meaning of loss. Torn from friends and home, he was sent to live with a stern old woman in an unfamiliar cul-de-sac, far from everything he knew. The disruption fueled his anger immediately. He acted out in school, fought on the playground, refused to join in sports. Everything that had once made him happy was abandoned. But then, one night, beneath a blanket of stars, he found a small spark in the void that swallowed him whole. 

The backyard was slipping into dusk, the sky bruised with soft purples and increasing silver light. Johnny stood at the edge of the lawn, watching her. A quiet figure stretched out on the grass, a book open beside her, fingers gently tracing the lines of a star map. Nearby, a telescope waited patiently, aimed at the emerging night. He knew of her, but hadn’t quite spoken beyond his aunt and her mother forcing an introduction consisting of two uninspired head nods. She was in some of his classes, the girl no one quite noticed except for the occasional whispered taunt. Good grades, quiet demeanor, face buried in a book or fingers intently wrapped around a pen writing in a notebook. Someone always just at the edge of his new world. Tonight, something about her held him rooted in place, with curiosity blooming tightly in his chest.

Johnny’s mind wandered, imagining the countless people who had come and gone, and he’d barely acknowledged. Why should tonight be any different? Because she was simply in her own world. At peace with being alone, something he hadn’t quite mastered since Sue had taken that new job waitressing. His voice caught on the breeze before he could stop himself. “Hey.”

She looked up, startled, then softened when their eyes met. “Hello Johnny.”

There was something fragile and certain in her smile, when she noticed him. "You know my name?" He asked surprised.

"The teachers call it pretty frequently, for less than savory reasons I might add, so yes. I know who you are." The way she spoke wasn't with malice, but more observational with a hint of lightness under it all. Almost as if she was attempting to make a joke but was unsure if they were familiar enough to do so. He brushed it off.

“What are you reading?” he asked, stepping closer, still not sure why he was bothering the girl at all. Feet still lingering on the invisible line separating their back yards. She patted the grass beside her, and Johnny hesitated before moving to sit down. The cool earth grounded him.

“It’s a star guide,” she said. “But not just the science part. It’s about how ancient cultures, like the Greeks and Romans for instance, used stars to tell stories about their gods, or their history. How they shaped their world through those stories.”

Johnny nodded slowly, surprised by the depth in her words. He’d always thought stars were just... stars. Light in the dark. Something humanity continued to strive to reach at any possible opportunity. The future. But here was someone seeing them as a bridge to the past, in the people who used them to make sense of their place in the universe.

“That’s… pretty amazing,” he said, glancing up at the first bright pinpricks of light blinking awake overhead. “I never thought about stars like that.” Somewhere inside of himself, he almost felt shame. The comic books and sci-fi films he watched all made the stars seem clinical.

She smiled, eyes bright. “Anthropology isn’t just about digging in dirt or old bones. It’s about stories. How humans connect with the world. The stars are one of the oldest stories we have.”

Johnny felt a quiet warmth spreading inside, something he hadn’t expected. The way she spoke meant it all sound so important. Even with his young and immature mind he knew something about her was different. This wasn’t just the neighbor girl with a telescope; this was someone who saw the world through the importance of history and culture. Someone who could make even the cold night sky feel alive. Someone impossibly self possessed to be his age. 

“Mind if I look through the telescope?” he asked, eager but trying not to sound it.

“I was hoping you would,” she said, moving aside. As he peered into the lens, the stars exploded into sharp points of light. And for the first time, Johnny realized he wanted to understand not just the stories of the sky, but the story of her. Quiet, brilliant, and waiting just beyond the edges of his shattered world. Johnny shifted the telescope, awkward at first, until gradually his hands grew steadier, guided by her quiet directions.

“There,” she said softly, pointing to a cluster of stars framed perfectly in the lens. “That’s the Pleiades. The Seven Sisters. In ancient myths, they were chased by a hunter, turned into stars to escape. Different cultures have their own stories about them.”

He blinked up at the sky, suddenly seeing those distant lights as more than pinpricks of cold fire. “So every star has a story?”

She nodded. “Lots of them do, but not just stars, the whole sky is a canvas for human stories. It’s how people made sense of their world before science could explain it.”

Johnny’s gaze lingered on her face for a moment. Here was someone who found meaning where he’d only ever seen emptiness. “Why don’t you ever talk about this stuff in class?” he asked, genuine now. 

She shrugged, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “People don’t always want to hear my ideas, so why should I waste my time on them?”

"Well I like your ideas," he spoke genuinely.

"Thank you. You're not what I expected you do be." She replied softly. He didn't take offense, or press. Didn't need to. He figured she probably lumped him in the same category as all their classmates who bullied her from time to time. And although he never joined in, he certainly didn't go out of his way to discourage their behavior either. But, hearing she no longer made negative assumptions about him made him feel something inside. A simple, quiet kind of joy that had been absent since the day Sue came to pick him up from baseball practice with tears on her face.

Johnny smiled, “Thanks for letting me hang out,” he said quietly.

She smiled back, a quiet invitation in her eyes. “Anytime. I'll see you around.”

The sky stretched vast and infinite above them, but in that small backyard, two worlds had quietly collided. Now, years later, standing on a rooftop of the Baxter building and gazing at the stars, Johnny feels the quiet echo of that night deep inside him. Her love for humanity, for stories, had changed him. The stars weren’t just distant fires anymore. They were stories, connections, and a reminder that no matter how far he’d come, he wasn’t alone. That there could be a deeply personal story woven into the clinical nature of science.

It reminded him of that time when he’d been a teenage boy. The late afternoon sun slanted softly through the curtains, casting long shadows across the worn carpet of Johnny’s living room. The house empty. Sue was off at college, and Aunt Marygay was working late, leaving only the two of them in the stillness. Textbooks and notebooks were spread between them, but Johnny’s eyes kept drifting to her. Focused, calm, scribbling away in neat script. He leaned back on his hands, kicking at a stray book, feeling restless but reluctant to break the quiet.

Without warning, his fingers darted out and snatched her notebook off the floor. “Hey!” she laughed, startled but not angry. She reached for it, but Johnny pulled it just out of reach, grinning.

“What’s this?” he asked, flipping through pages with exaggerated curiosity until he stopped, pointing to a phrase carefully circled in red ink. “Per aspera ad astra,” he read slowly. “Through hardships to the stars.”

She shrugged, her gaze on the page. “It’s just Latin homework.”

“But why circle it?” Johnny’s grin softened, genuine interest creeping into his voice. “Looks like it means something.”

She hesitated, then shrugged again, as if brushing it off. “I guess it made me think of you.”

Johnny blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

She looked up, her eyes steady, a faint smile playing at her lips. “Yeah. You’re always pushing through stuff, even when it’s hard. Like the phrase says, you’re heading for the stars, even if the path isn’t easy.”

He felt a quiet warmth spread through him, a feeling unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Not the rush of adrenaline or the heat of a dare. Something soft. Entirely too soft for someone as brash as himself. Johnny shifted closer, keeping his voice low. “I never thought about it like that.”

“Yeah well,” she paused before continuing.. “You and I both know you are going to the stars one way or another. Johnny Storm will one day be remembered as a famous astronaut, even if he’s suffering his homework-hardships right now.”

At that he shoved her. Not harshly, but playfully on the shoulder until the girl dissolved into a fit of giggles, laying back on the carpet once more. “Knock it off,” he scoffed, no real malice in his voice. He looked back down at the circled words, tracing the letters with his eyes. “Maybe I should remember that.” He joined her, legs outstretched the opposite direction, head on her shoulder.

He could hear the smile in her voice. “Maybe you should.”

It wasn't long after that which began the steady exchange of letters throughout college. Him at Stanford, her at Harvard. Aerospace Engineering and Anthropology. West Coast and East Coast. Two worlds separated by miles, yet the words they shared somehow made the distance shrink. Late-night phone calls stretched into the early hours, their voices weaving a thread that held their friendship taut through the chaos of young adulthood. Their bond was unwavering. No matter how many girls Johnny chased after, or how often he scoffed at the boys she dated at Harvard, convinced none of them were worthy of her, their connection endured. For years, it remained a quiet, steady kind of love. The kind that doesn’t shout as it quietly settles into your bones. She was the calm to his storm, the steady anchor who helped him navigate a childhood fractured by loss and upheaval. They lived in different worlds, their paths rarely crossing beyond the occasional brief visit squeezed between exams, internships, and endless deadlines. And yet, in that distance, they maintained a connection that felt like home.

But then came the Harold.

Well, it wasn’t entirely fair to pin the blame on that silver monstrosity alone. That mission years before had done far more damage than any alien ever could. She had been halfway across the world, off the rugged coast of Italy, exploring an ancient Roman settlement buried beneath olive trees, when he finally managed to reach her on the phone. Her voice had been bright and warm, like sunlight filtering through a canopy of leaves. She’d laughed through tears, telling him how incredible it was that he was finally going to space. To finally step beyond the Earth, reaching for the stars she had studied through stories and history, and he’d been so desperate to reach through science.

She promised she’d be watching those same stars from halfway around the globe, tracing constellations through the night sky of a foreign land. And when she returned to the States, they would meet for dinner, just the two of them, catching up on everything and nothing all at once. He had dreamed of that moment: going up, finally, to meet the stars, to touch the quiet mysteries they held, and to gather those stories. Stories he could bring back and share, like secrets passed down through generations, knowing she’d appreciate them.

But then the cosmic storm struck. Everything changed. On a cellular level, deep in his bones. On a personal level, inside his heart. The calls became less frequent. The messages, shorter. He told himself it was just the weight of responsibility, the burden every hero bore. There were lives to save, dangers to face, and endless demands on his time. But in the quiet spaces between, something else shifted. Something he couldn’t quite explain. Something that made the distance feel deeper, colder. And she waited, watching the stars from her distant shore, wondering how to reach him when he was drifting farther away.

Johnny could still remember the first time he saw those articles. Headlines branding him as a reckless playboy, a charming flirt with a trail of admirers in his wake. The glossy magazines painted a picture so far from who he truly was, that it felt like a slap in the face. He’d been furious, the sting of misrepresentation burning hot. Why couldn’t they see past the surface? He wasn’t just a pretty face. There was more to him.

But then came the conversation that softened his anger, if only a little. Someone explained it to him with a blunt practicality: it was a good story to sell. The public craved spectacle, and the image of Johnny Storm — the human torch with a devil-may-care grin and a reputation for flirting — was exactly the kind of narrative that sold magazines and toys. And yes, he was flirty by nature. It came easily to him. The charm, the smile. The women’s magazines capitalized on that, playing up his looks and charisma to boost sales. More sales meant more money for the foundation, more resources for the missions, more support for the team. So the image stuck, whether he liked it or not.

But with every public appearance alongside some high-profile socialite or glamorous event, the space between him and her grew wider. Calls became fewer, messages less frequent. She began to pull away, her voice quieter on the other end of the line, the warmth fading like the setting sun. Johnny felt he knew why. He could see it in her eyes when they did manage to meet, and heard it in the hesitation between her words. The stories the world told about him were drowning out the quiet story they had once written together. And so, the phone stayed silent more often than not.

Then came the real nail in the coffin. She had finally returned to New York. Full of stories from her latest digs, her eyes bright with the same excitement that had always drawn him in. She spoke eagerly of her next adventure, of ancient ruins and forgotten civilizations, of the quiet thrill of uncovering humanity’s past. She wasn’t put off by the changes in him. The physical ones anyway. On the contrary, she found his new powers astonishing. She laughed, teasingly calling him Helius, god among men, marveling at his fearless control of the fire that now danced at his fingertips.

But it wasn’t her reaction that shattered something deep inside Johnny. No, it was the man with the camera. Standing just across the street from the restaurant where they’d been sharing that intimate catch-up, snapping photos of their quiet smiles, their easy familiarity. The next morning, the images were everywhere. The headlines screamed about the “new lady in Johnny Storm’s life,” accompanied by those candid shots of two people caught in a moment meant to be theirs alone.

And his response? That callous laugh, sharp and dismissive. The scoff paired with the cold assurance that she was nothing more than a childhood friend. Sure, he complimented her research, praising her brilliance with practiced ease. He even recommended her latest book, maintaining a polite distance. But then, with cruel clarity, he said the words: “I could never date her. She’s like a sister to me.”

To him, it was just a line. A convenient statement to deflect unwanted questions. To her, it was a fracture, the moment she realized the distance between them had grown into something unbridgeable. Johnny didn’t see the heartbreak in her eyes. He only saw the ramifications. Sure it was the perfect image to keep the press entertained, and himself comfortably distant from admitting the truth.

But she never came to say goodbye when she left town. Johnny remembered waiting, half-expecting her to show up at his door. One last smile, a hug, something to anchor him before she disappeared into the next chapter of her life. Instead, there was only the brief, clipped phone call from the airport, her voice calm and steady, telling him her flight had been moved up. An excuse that didn’t quite sit right with him even now.

At the time, he buried the uneasy feeling deep beneath layers of denial. Whenever a pang of guilt crept in, whispering that maybe he’d let something precious slip away, he shoved it aside. It was easier to blame her. To say she’d taken things too personally, read too much into the space growing between them. After all, he told himself, he had responsibilities, a public image to uphold, a life that wasn’t built for quiet moments or soft confessions. His persona, the confident, reckless charmer, became armor in a way. The image the world adored was something he wore so tightly that even he began to believe it. To admit to anything else, to be vulnerable, felt like weakness. And so he didn’t. Not until the Harold.

That night, when he stepped back through the door, the weight of everything — his powers, the headlines, the distance from her — pressed down harder than ever before. And in the quiet that followed, with the city humming around him, he felt for the first time the full, unbearable truth of what had slipped through his fingers. He couldn’t ignore it anymore. That sad notion that had been screaming inside himself while he wore headphones to drown it out.

He missed her.

After Reed and Ben had left the lab, their laughter and dismissive scoffs still hanging in the air over Johnny’s theory about the Silver Surfer, Sue remained behind. She fixed him with that unmistakable look. The one that had followed him through every reckless stunt, every careless grin, every time he tried to hide what was really inside. It was a look filled with quiet understanding, patient yet piercing. “When are you going to call her?” she asked, voice low but steady.

Johnny’s chest tightened. He didn’t need to ask who she meant; the name hung heavy in the air, unspoken but impossible to ignore. Still, he chose the safer path. The one lined with denial and feigned innocence. “Who?” he said, voice light, masking the sharp sting beneath.

Sue sighed, a soft sound that carried both frustration and compassion. She leaned against the edge of the desk, the curve of her hand resting protectively on her rounded belly. “Don’t play the fool, Johnny,” she murmured, eyes never leaving his. “We both know you’re too smart for that.” Her gaze softened. “I never asked what happened. I didn’t want to pry, not because I didn’t care, but because some things are yours alone to bear.” She paused, tracing an invisible line in the air, then met his eyes again. “But I know you. And I know what she means to you.” The silence stretched, heavy with memories. “The first Christmas, I told myself it was just her research keeping her away. A noble pursuit, and you understood. The second, I thought it was the same story. But by the third,” she said quietly, “I realized it was something more. Something deeper.”

Johnny’s eyes fell to the floor, his fingers tracing an absent pattern along the edge of the desk. The silence stretching between him and Sue like a fragile thread waiting to snap. “I've thought about her,” he began slowly, voice low and uncertain, as if speaking the words aloud made them more real and ever more painful. “As more than just a friend. More times than I can even count.”

He swallowed hard, the memory surfacing with startling clarity. “That summer… when she finally got her braces off. I remember looking at her smile, how it changed everything. Like suddenly she wasn’t just the girl next door but someone new. Someone I couldn’t stop noticing.”

His breath caught. “And then the next summer, when she came back from summer camp, skin kissed by the sun, this quiet confidence in her step. It always stayed with me. I remember when I met her at the train station, and for a moment, I barely recognized her. College had done wonders. She was radiant, more beautiful than I’d ever seen her in a way that made my heart pound like I was hearing it for the first time.”

Johnny’s gaze lifted, haunted by the ghost of those moments. “There’s still a photo of her in that anthropology magazine framed on my wall. I stare at it sometimes, the way the light falls on her face, the way she looks so alive chasing her dreams.” His voice softened, almost breaking. “Every single time I thought about telling her, about telling her I felt more, I’d freeze. The nerves would tie my stomach in knots, and then I’d tell myself she only saw me as a friend. That she’d never feel the same.”

He looked up at Sue, eyes shimmering with a vulnerability he rarely let show. “And I was terrified. Terrified that if I spoke the truth, I’d lose her altogether. So instead, I stayed silent. I chickened out. I convinced myself that keeping the friendship was safer than risking everything.”

The silence lingered, heavy and fragile. Sue’s voice broke it softly, her tone gentle but unyielding. “But Johnny…” He met her eyes, heart pounding in his chest. “You lost her anyway.” Her words hung between them like a solemn truth. “By holding back,” she continued quietly. “By hiding behind the fear. By pretending it didn’t matter.”

Johnny nodded slowly, the sting of regret settling deep in his chest, heavy and real. “I was so scared to risk what we had.”

“And in trying to protect yourself,” Sue said softly, “you lost the very thing you wanted to keep.”

Johnny’s breath hitched, the weight of Sue’s words still settling deep in his chest. His eyes flickered with uncertainty, haunted by years of distance and silence. “I don’t even know how to start making amends,” he admitted, voice rough with a mix of regret and fear. “She’s so far away now... out there, studying some Arctic tribe, completely off the grid. There’s no way to just pick up the phone and call her.”

Sue’s gaze softened, unwavering. She stepped closer, her voice calm but insistent. “Then write to her.”

He blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity, yet the enormity, of her suggestion. “A letter?” Johnny echoed.

“Yes.” Sue nodded. “Write her everything you’re feeling. Tell her what you’ve been too afraid to say. Tell her you’re sorry. Tell her you miss her.”

Johnny’s mind spun, the old fear clawing at him. The fear of rejection, of not being enough, of shattering the fragile bond they still had. “But what if she doesn’t want to hear from me?” he whispered, the vulnerability finally breaking through his walls.

Sue reached out, a gentle hand resting on his arm. “You won’t know unless you try.” She gave him a small, encouraging smile. “Sometimes the first step isn’t easy. Sometimes it’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do. But if you don’t take it… you’ll never find out if there’s still a chance.”

The room held its breath, the moment lingering. It was heavy with the weight of what could be, and the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, this time, Johnny wouldn’t let fear win.

⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩

Fear hadn’t won. But neither had he. He had poured everything into that letter. The years of silence, the unspoken hopes, the raw truth he’d been too afraid to say in person. Yet the reply never came. In the months that followed, the world had shifted in ways neither of them could have imagined. The team traveled to space, crossed paths with that cosmic being whose presence both awed and threatened everything they knew. They’d battled in the heart of New York, fought tooth and nail and against all odds, they’d won.

Surely, she must have heard by now. He’d trusted that somewhere, somehow, his words would reach her. But all that came back was a quiet void. Only the cold confirmation that his letter had been delivered, months ago. And still, nothing. The silence stretched on, vast and empty, like the dark expanse between the stars they both loved.

Johnny sat cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by fragments of a past he wasn’t sure how to hold onto anymore. His fingers traced the worn edges of photographs, some yellowed, but all of her. Toothy grins of childhood blurred into high school dances, then college graduations, trips abroad, ending with the Baxter Christmas that first year after the Cosmic Storm. There were notebooks filled with her meticulous notes, a handful of letters whose words he’d read and reread until the ink ran together in his mind, and scattered tokens of a friendship that had once been his anchor.

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the occasional sound of someone migrating their living space. The weight of absence pressed down on him like the Arctic cold she’d sought to understand, an emptiness that no amount of memories could fully thaw. Suddenly, the soft whirring of wheels stirred the stillness. H.E.R.B.I.E. rolled into his room. The little robot paused beside Johnny and extended a small envelope, clutched in his hand.

Johnny frowned, turning it over carefully. His name was written across the front but there was no return address, no clue where it had come from. He was about to dismiss it as another piece of meaningless fan mail, but H.E.R.B.I.E. 's gentle nudge, the subtle tilt of his head, urged him otherwise. With a trembling breath, Johnny broke the seal and pulled out its contents. No letter. Only a single Polaroid. He stared down at the image. A stark, white landscape. Snow-dusted trees stood tall beneath a swirling curtain of green and blue lights. The Aurora Borealis painting the Arctic sky in ethereal strokes. The photo captured no people, no faces, only the vast loneliness of the land she now called home.

At the bottom of the photo, in her looping script, were the words: Per aspera ad astra. His chest tightened painfully. Those words, through hardships to the stars, weren't just a motto. They were a lifeline, a whispered promise they continued to echo over the years. Johnny closed his eyes, the ache rising up like a tide. He didn’t need to ask who sent it. He knew. He felt it in every beat of his heart, every tremor of hope and regret tangled inside him. For a long moment, he simply held the Polaroid close. The stars outside the window twinkled coldly, but now, somewhere deep beneath their light, Johnny’s heart dared to hope again.

⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩

The weeks had stretched thin, each day blending into the next, heavy with silence and unanswered questions. Johnny sat by the window, watching the world outside blur under a gray sky, the Arctic photo tucked deep in his jacket pocket. The soft creak of the door startled him, and he turned to see Sue stepping inside, cradling Franklin in her arms. The baby’s tiny hands, swaddled in thick woolen mittens, clumsily reached out, while Sue wore a knitted hat pulled low over her forehead, a quiet smile playing on her lips.

Johnny blinked, surprise catching him off guard. “Intesting fashion choice given its the middle of summer,” he quipped, voice rough from weeks of disuse. Sue didn’t answer right away. Instead, she held out a package, wrapped in brown butcher paper, edges taped. Johnny took it, the paper crackling under his fingers as he peeled it back, revealing a book bound in simple, sturdy cover. The title caught his breath: Preservation of the Edge of Humanity. Her name was printed beneath. He sank onto the sofa as Sue settled opposite him, Franklin leaning forward with wide eyes.

“Looking great there kiddo. See you get your good looks from the Storm side,” he spoke, voice illuminating with just enough joy to make the kid laugh, but his sister looked at him with unsure eyes. 

Johnny then turned, and opened the book slowly. The pages unfolded like a window into her world. Photos from the expedition: ancient ruins half-buried in snow, delicate artifacts resting in gloved hands, moments frozen in time where she smiled with the kind of joy that made Johnny’s chest ache. Here she was, nose bright red from the cold, snowflakes dampening her hair, chasing the stories of humanity with a fierce, beautiful passion. Each image was a testament to her spirit.

And then, as he flipped to the final page, the contents of book gave way to something more intimate. A handwritten inscription, delicate and sure, curling across the back cover. For Johnny, it read, through every hardship, you have been my brightest star. Here’s to finding our way back to each other, no matter the journey. Johnny’s fingers lingered on the ink, tracing the words.

The room grew still around him, the quiet stretched long and tender. This was more than a message. It was an olive branch, built from years of distance and pain, now finally reaching across the void. He looked up, eyes meeting Sue’s gentle gaze, and in that moment, the impossible felt just within reach.

Sue settled onto the edge of the sofa, eyes flickering to the book in Johnny’s hands. “What is it?” she asked gently, curiosity threading through her voice.

Johnny glanced down at the cover. “Her newest book. With a note at the very end. Something personal. Her way of saying she got the letter I assume, though it’s quite brief and vague.”

Sue’s eyes softened as she shifted Franklin in her arms. The baby’s tiny hands, bundled in oversized wool mittens, waved slightly in the air. It was obvious the package marked Sue & Reed Richards in the large box that had arrived, indicated the mittens weren’t for the baby. Still she’d put them on Franklin anyway to lighten the mood. “You weren’t the only one who got gifts from her,” Sue said, nodding toward Franklin’s mittened hands and then to her own wool hat, pulled over her curls.

Johnny laughed, the sound a little rusty but genuine. “I see that. You two look ridiculous by the way.”

Sue smiled, warmth and mischief in her eyes. “Still, it’s the thought that counts. She was always very thoughtful.”

Johnny shook his head, amusement tugging at his lips. “Yeah she is.”

Sue’s smile softened, her tone growing more serious as she glanced at Franklin, then back at Johnny. “Do you think she’d ever come visit? Meet the newest member of the family?”

Johnny looked down at the baby nestled in his sister’s lap, those mittened fingers waving in the air. He smiled, a spark of hope lighting his eyes. “Hey, Franklin,” he said softly, “think we can use your cuteness as leverage? Maybe it’s what it takes to get her to visit... to finally come home.”

Franklin giggled, reaching up with one mittened hand to tap Johnny’s cheek, as if agreeing with the plan. 

It was worth a shot. 

⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩

Johnny’s steps pounded against the pavement as he neared the train station, a bundle of nerves twisting low in his stomach. Clutched tightly in one hand were flowers. They were simple. Not roses or something bright like daisy's. He knew better than that. These were a special order, one that made the florist question him perfuses. Myrtles were an odd choice, but they'd always been her favorite. It was a fragile offering for a moment he’d replayed in his mind more times than he could count. The scent of fresh petals was almost too sweet, mingling with the crisp morning air. His heart hammered loud enough that he was sure it would give him away, each beat a frantic drum that threatened to drown out everything else. His throat felt dry, the familiar rush of anxiety curling in his chest.

Just as he reached the entrance, his hand tightening instinctively around the bouquet, a small voice cut through the morning bustle. “Hey! Mr. Storm! Can I have your autograph?” Johnny glanced down to see a kid, no older than ten, grinning up at him, clutching a crumpled notebook and a pen. The boy’s eyes sparkled with wide-eyed admiration, and for a split second, Johnny felt that old, easy charm flicker to life. His initial frustration at the timing softened. He knelt to the kid’s level, signing the notebook with a quick flourish and a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

But in that moment of distraction, his world shifted. From the corner of his vision, he caught the faintest movement. Her silhouette, suitcase in hand, standing quietly just beyond the crowd. She was watching him and the boy with a calm that made his breath hitch. Johnny’s heart clenched, an ache so raw it stunned him into stillness. Time seemed to slow, the noisy station blurring into background noise as his eyes locked onto hers. There she was, standing like a dream he’d almost stopped believing could become reality.

His fingers curled tighter around the flowers, knuckles white. Every thought scattered, every doubt and fear drowned out by the simple, undeniable longing that blossomed in that moment. The world around them fell away, leaving only the quiet truth: after all the years, after all the pain, she was here.  The kid’s bright-eyed thank you was barely noticed as he darted away, leaving Johnny standing there. The crowd around him shifted and flowed, a tide of strangers moving with purpose, but Johnny felt suspended. Caught between anticipation and a quiet storm of nerves.

She moved steadily toward him, each step measured and deliberate, her eyes unwavering, fixed on his as if she could see through the years and the miles that had come between them. With every passing stride, Johnny’s heart thudded harder against his ribs, a wild, aching rhythm. 

When they were still five paces apart, the motion stilled, as if time itself held its breath. She paused, setting the suitcase down with a quiet finality, the soft thud grounding them both in the present. In that pause, the distance between them wasn’t measured in miles or years but in the fragile, trembling hope of a moment suspended, poised on the edge of something profound, something long-awaited.

Her eyes, steady and searching, met his with a mixture of cautious hope and vulnerability.  Johnny felt his pulse quicken, the familiar ache curling tight in his chest: a mix of longing, regret, and something tenderly fragile. His hands twitched at his sides, restless, unsure whether to reach out and risk breaking the delicate spell or to hold back, fearing that any sudden movement might unravel what little courage they both carried. The hum of the station faded into a soft, distant echo as his breath caught, words tangling in his throat.

Then, barely more than a whisper, he broke the silence. “Come here, you.” The invitation hung in the cool morning air, simple yet weighted with everything they hadn’t said over the years. She stepped forward, crossing the small distance between them with a grace that made Johnny’s heart stumble. When their arms finally met, it was tentative at first. Fingers brushing softly, as if afraid to disturb the fragile moment. The embrace was light, cautious, like two fragile flames seeking warmth but wary of burning. Yet as the seconds stretched on, that initial hesitance gave way to something deeper.

He felt her breath catch, felt the subtle tremble in her shoulders, and he tightened his hold, as if by drawing her closer he could make up for every missed day, every silent night spent wondering. His forehead came to rest against hers, and in that shared, quiet space, the years of pain and distance seemed to soften, folding into a fragile hope. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured, voice rough with everything left unspoken.

“I’ve missed you too,” she said, voice low and steady, like a secret shared between two souls who had never truly parted.

Johnny’s fingers trembled slightly as he held out the bouquet, the colors vivid against the gray of the morning. “For you,” he said softly.

She glanced down at the flowers, then shot him a quick, uncertain look. “Johnny… someone might see,” she murmured, displaying caution.

He smirked, shrugging off the concern as if it were nothing. “So what? I shouldn’t be ashamed to give my best girl flowers in public.” His eyes held a warmth that made the words feel like a quiet declaration, one that hung heavy between them. For a moment, she went silent, the playful edge fading as she looked up into his face. The sunlight caught the slight curve of her smile. Johnny bent down, picking up the suitcase beside her with a practiced ease. “We should get a move on,” he said, voice lighter now, “there’s an adorable half-Storm baby waiting at home to meet you.”

Her eyes widened slightly at the mention, and for a heartbeat, the space between them was filled not just with memories or longing, but with the promise of something new. Something tender and whole, waiting just beyond the horizon of their reunion.

⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩

Hours had slipped by unnoticed, but Johnny remained rooted in the doorway of his room, watching her move quietly through the familiar chaos of his life. The late afternoon light filtered softly through the window, casting long, warm shadows that danced around her as she traced the contours of the space. Fingertips brushing over the worn spines of books, lingering on the corners of scattered papers, pausing on the little souvenirs that littered his desk. The reunion with Sue, Reed, Ben, and introduction to baby Franklin had gone better than Johnny had dared hope. The house had been filled with laughter, gentle teasing, and the tender, unspoken acknowledgment of old bonds reforging themselves. Sue had slipped into her usual role as the unofficial matchmaker, eyes twinkling as she introduced Franklin to her with an infectious grin. Reed and Ben’s guarded smiles had softened, their acceptance settling into something genuine. Johnny’s chest felt impossibly full, the ache of years apart momentarily soothed by the simple truth that she was here, in his home. In his life again.

He didn’t move, lingering in the doorway, watching as she slowly made her way to the far wall where a magazine cutout was pinned. A frozen snapshot of her from an old expedition. Her not much younger self, radiant with passion and determination, a woman on the cusp of everything she was becoming. She paused, eyes drawn to the image as if it held a secret only she could read. Her fingers hovered, then gently traced the edge of the paper, the light catching the soft curve of her hand. For a moment, her expression softened. A flicker of nostalgia, a shadow of memories folded beneath the surface. Johnny’s breath caught in his throat. In that quiet moment, the weight of lost time and long years of silence hung suspended between them. Yet seeing her here made everything else fall away.

He stepped forward slowly, the sound of his footsteps soft against the floor. The room felt smaller now, intimate and charged in a way that made him feel more alive than he had in years. She turned then, eyes meeting his, and in that glance, a world of meaning passed between them. An acknowledgment of the past, a quiet hope for the future, and the tentative first breath of something that might, at last, be real. All the years of childhood, where she made that dingy cul de sac rich with joy and laughter. The years in college with miles separating them physically but the love between them making that feel insignificant. Those early days of adulthood where all the hard work began to pay off in space explorations and archaeological digs. The lost years he ought not dwell upon. And now.

Johnny’s voice broke the stillness, the weight of years pressing on his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, eyes searching hers. “For everything. For the distance. For pushing you aside when I got these powers. For saying those things, calling you just a friend when I was asked. That was never what I wanted.”

She looked at him then, a soft smile curling on her lips, and before he could say more, she gently interrupted. “Johnny... I got your letter.” Her voice was calm, steady, but there was an edge of something unspoken beneath it. “The one where you told me all that. You don’t have to say it again.”

He blinked, a flicker of vulnerability flashing in his eyes. “I thought you’d hate me.”

Her smile deepened, tender and real. “I’ve carried those words with me. Yes, they hurt. But I never hated you. Not once. You just needed time to keep evolving into whatever version of yourself you were destined to be. And maybe so did I.”

Johnny hesitated, the question that had haunted him for years finally spilling out. “If you got the letter… Why didn’t you write back? Not that I deserved a response right away… but why wait so long?”

She let out a slow, measured sigh. “Because, Johnny, I was scared.” Her eyes searched his, honest and unguarded. “I was scared you only reached out because you thought the world was ending. That you sent those words out of desperation, or the thought you may not come back, not because you truly meant them.” Her voice softened to almost a whisper. “I never wanted to be the one you turned to just because you were afraid or lonely. I needed to know that when you spoke those words, they were real, without any shadow of uncertainty hanging over them. And that if I let myself accept them, there would be a you to come back to. Not a memory, but a living, breathing version of you who didn’t regret saying those words.”

Johnny’s heart clenched at her confession, the raw vulnerability in her voice pulling at something deep inside him. In that moment, all the distance, all the silence, made a little more sense. His breath hitched, voice low and trembling as he began to unravel years of caution. “I’ve loved you,” he said, the words slow, as if each one was a fragile shard he was afraid to drop. “Not just as a friend.”

He looked away for a moment, eyes tracing the edges of the room as memories surged forward. “I loved the way you’d stay up all night, pages of your anthropology books spread around you, so lost in the stories of people long gone you neglected sleep. I love how you believed in finding meaning in their lives, in their struggles. You made history real and as vivid as we are right now.. I loved how you’d laugh softly when I teased you for it, but never stopped chasing those stories.”

His fingers clenched at his side, voice catching. “I loved the way you ignored all those kids in school who picked on you, with a strength I admired but never had. You have always been so authentic to yourself. I loved the way you’d help me with my homework, patient even when I was a pain.” Johnny’s eyes met hers again, flickering with vulnerability. “I loved the way you changed over the summers. How you became more yourself with every brief window we weren’t together. Because in the day to day I never noticed but when you’d go to summer camp and then return you were always a whole new person. I loved you that one time, after a bad day, you just sat beside me on the porch swing, saying nothing, and that was enough.”

He swallowed hard. “Every letter you sent, every call, every joke, every silence weighed on me because I wanted to say more, but I was too scared. Scared you’d laugh it off, or worse, that you’d walk away. I was terrified of losing you, so I stayed quiet, even though all along I wished I could tell you that you were everything I ever wanted.”

Johnny let out a bitter, self-directed laugh, shaking his head as if trying to shake off the weight of years lost. “I’m such an idiot,” he admitted, voice thick with regret. “Letting the world come between us was the stupidest decision of my life. There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t wanted to call you, just to hear your voice, or share just one small, insignificant moment of my day with you. You could’ve made cleaning up spilled pizza sauce or Franklin throwing up on me some deep, complex story worth preserving.”

He stepped closer, eyes searching hers, raw and honest. “Even when I pushed you away, even when I pretended it didn’t matter, I never stopped thinking about you. You were always there. Like a distant star in the back of my mind, guiding me through the noise and chaos the same way all those old sailors used to rely on.” His hand hovered, unsure whether to reach out or pull back, vulnerability pouring from him in a confession long overdue. “I was scared, yeah. Scared of losing you. But maybe the biggest mistake was thinking I could ever live without you.”

Her eyes softened, but there was a flicker of pain beneath the surface. Something buried beneath years of silence. She took a slow step closer, narrowing the space between them. “You hurt my pride that day,” she admitted quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “When you told that reporter I was just like a sister to you… Not because it wasn’t something I assumed, but the way it came out made me seem undesirable at all. I held onto the hope that maybe, once everything settled, there could be more. But the reality? It cut deeper than I expected.” Her gaze didn’t waver as she stepped closer still, until the warmth of her presence brushed against him. “And seeing you with other women, laughing, living your life, it stung. But despite it all, that flame… it never quite died. You were always there, in the back of my mind. My hotheaded, space loving idiot of a man, who would bend over backwards just to see me smile.”

Her fingers lingered on his hand as she breathed out, voice steady but soft. “I’ve loved you since that night under the stars. The night you finally spoke to me to ask what I was reading. That boy with the bright blue eyes, the one who hid a surprising amount of intelligence beneath all that humor and anger at the world… he was always enough for me.” She gave a small, bittersweet smile, her eyes searching his. “Not the Human Torch. Not the playboy. Just Johnny.”

Johnny’s chest tightened, the breath he’d been holding in finally let as the truth unfolded before him. She didn’t love the blazing hero the world saw. Or the man who posted in lude, suggestive ads for sunblock. The one who winked into the camera knowing it would help provide aid relief for kids in Africa. No, she loved the boy beneath the flames, the one who hid wit and warmth behind a mask of cocky charm. The one who entered her world in a seemingly insignificant evening so incredibly dull he figured talking to the odd girl next door was better than sitting in his own silence. 

The world seemed to narrow, the noise fading until there was nothing but the two of them. Two souls, raw and honest, finally laying down their defenses. His heart thundered in his ears, the ache of longing and regret mingling with something fierce and beautiful: hope. Slowly, Johnny closed the distance, his hands reaching to cup her face with reverence, fingertips tracing the curve of her cheek as if memorizing every detail. Her eyes fluttered closed at the touch, breath hitching, and the space between them vanished.

When their lips met, it was soft. Tender. Almost hesitant. Like the first delicate brush of a flame that could either warm or burn. But as the moment deepened, the hesitation melted away, replaced by a fierce, aching need to hold her close, to never let go. Their bodies pressed together, hearts beating in a frantic, perfect rhythm. Johnny deepened the kiss, his hands sliding gently down to cradle her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. The world around them blurred, noises and movements fading into nothingness.

She responded with a soft, trembling sigh, her fingers threading through his hair, anchoring herself to him as if afraid this moment might slip away. When they finally eased apart, their foreheads still gently pressed together, eyes closed in quiet reverence, Johnny sighed softly. “Man, I’m such an idiot for not doing that sooner.”

She smiled, a warm laugh bubbling up. “Yeah, you are,” she teased, her voice soft and affectionate. “But you’re my idiot. Always have been.”

He grinned, a spark lighting in his eyes. “Your idiot, huh? You know, I think I could get used to the sound of that.” They settled together on the edge of his bed, the soft creak of the mattress beneath them grounding the moment in quiet reality, as he pulled her into his lap with ease. Johnny glanced at her, still catching his breath, the weight of everything they’d said, and what they’d just done, hanging in the air between them. “So,” he began, voice low and hesitant, “where do we even start? After all this time…” His hand reached out, fingers curling around hers with a familiar ease that both tugged at his heart and lifted it higher than he’d ever soared with his powers.

She smiled softly, a mischievous glint in her eyes as her fingers threaded gently through his hair. “Well… do you think anyone’s going to come looking for us?”

He chuckled, brushing a stray lock from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “Baby’s asleep, Ben’s out for the evening, Reed stays away from the ‘biohazard infested bachelor-pad’ and Sue knows better than to peek in here given the circumstances. Unless H.E.R.B.I.E. rolls in to crash the party, I’d say we’re safe.”

“Good,” she murmured, her hands pressing against his chest, pushing him back with a playful force that made him bounce against the duvet. He laughed, caught off guard by her eagerness, before her lips claimed his again in a hungry kiss. He responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around her as she settled across his frame, both of them finding comfort in the closeness. Their lips remained locked in a fierce, tender embrace, hands slowly tracing curves and edges with a reverence born of years spent holding back. Despite the headlines painting him as a reckless playboy, Johnny was always a gentleman when it came to her. The thought of crossing that line had haunted him, but now that moment was here, and the reality of her, even clothed, was far more breathtaking than anything his imagination had dared conjure. Which, truth be told, was often. 

Like that summer afternoon at the beach. The sun casting golden light over her skin, the curve of her silhouette in that bathing suit forever etched in his memory, lingering far longer than it should have. Or the night in Spain, his spring break trip taken to visit while she was on study abroad, when they danced until their laughter echoed through narrow streets. She wore that bold red lipstick that left a vivid stain on his cheek from the friendly kiss she’d pressed there in a wine filled haze. A mark he traced later in a quiet moment alone at his hotel. It was always these fleeting, stolen fragments. Glimpses of something more than friendship that set his heart ablaze. The radiant, fiercely alive woman beneath the familiar laughter and stories stirred something deep inside him, quickening his pulse, setting his senses alight.

“Johnny, you’re really hot,” she murmured, voice husky, lips brushing against his in a whisper.

He smiled, breath catching. “So are you, Doll.”

“No,” she said softly, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I mean, physically.”

His gaze followed hers, and then he felt it. The heat radiating from his skin, waves of warmth curling off him in ripples of steam. That hadn’t happened in years. Not since the early days when he first gained his powers and struggled to control them. The sudden return of that physical intensity sent a jolt through him. A vivid reminder that this moment, this closeness, was more than just a reunion. It was a rekindling, a powerful ignition of everything he’d been holding back, and subsequently had made him lose his faculties.

“Shit,” he muttered, hastily clenching his fists to snuff out the flare of heat. The room cooled almost instantly, but the rush of adrenaline and desire still pulsed through his veins, leaving his heart hammering in his chest. He glanced at her, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with something between amusement and something deeper. Then she spoke through a small laugh, “Any more of that and I was worried I’d have to find the fire extinguisher,”

Johnny smirked, brushing off the concern with a teasing scoff. “Please, I’ve got total control, Dollface.”

She raised an eyebrow, pressing her nose gently against his. “Are you really sure about that?”

He chuckled softly, returning the touch with a gentle nudge of his own. “I got a little caught up, that’s all. This… all of this, it’s still kind of new….”

Her eyes sparkled with quiet certainty as she murmured, “Doesn’t feel new to me at all. Feels more like… acknowledging something I tried to quiet for far too long.”

Johnny’s breath hitched again, this time from something other than residual heat. He stared at her for a beat too long, caught somewhere between awe and disbelief, the corners of his mouth slowly curling into a smile that was far softer than his usual smirks. “Well,” he said, voice dropping to a lazy drawl, “aren’t you just full of surprises.”

She grinned, that slow, mischievous grin he remembered from a hundred half-finished conversations and a thousand stolen glances. “You’re the one radiating enough heat to bake a lasagna. I’m just trying to keep up.”

He laughed, the tension broke and he leaned back slightly, dragging a hand through his tousled hair as if trying to tame it. “I missed this,” he admitted, eyes locking onto hers. “Missed you.”

Something flickered in her gaze. She tilted her head, her fingers brushing against his jaw, fingers catching on the barely a day old stubble that lingered there, trailing warmth that had nothing to do with his powers. “Then stop missing and start being here.”

His grin grew crooked, charmingly uneven. “Is that an invitation or a warning?”

“I’m giving you a chance,” she whispered, lips ghosting over his again, “to make one of those playboy moves before one of us chickens out or you melt the bed.”

Johnny glanced around, as if only now noticing the faint scorch mark along the edge of the duvet cover. “Oops.”

She chuckled again, her hand still lingered near his jaw, fingers tracing a line down to the hollow of his throat where his pulse jumped beneath her touch. Johnny exhaled slowly, like he was trying to cool himself down from the inside out. For once, it wasn’t the flames he was afraid of, he knew he had enough control not to hurt her. Instead he was worried about what the weight of this could mean. “I don’t want to screw this up,” he murmured, voice quieter now, rougher around the edges, like he was trying not to let the emotion in it show. “Not with you.”

Her smile softened, losing its edge but none of its brightness. “Then don’t.”

He hesitated, just long enough for her to see the vulnerability he rarely let anyone close enough to witness. Those moments had always been reserved for Sue. Occasionally Ben. And her. Then, with slow, deliberate movement, he reached up and slid his fingers into her hair, guiding her closer. Their lips met again. Not rushed, this time it was drawn out. A kiss made of everything unsaid between them: I love you and I will always love you. His other hand found her waist, settling gently, thumb brushing along the hem of her shirt, not daring to move further unless invited.

She melted into him with a sigh that shivered through him, all warmth and weightlessness. Her hands slid around his neck, pulling him closer, anchoring him to the moment. Johnny pulled back tucking his mouth against the curve of her jaw, his breath tickling the skin as he spoke before kissing her there. “Still too hot?”

She smiled, eyes closed, fingers trailing a path along the back of his neck. “Perfect,” she breathed, head tipping towards the ceiling to give him more room as she blissfully replied. “Like lying in dryer-warmed sheets. Who knew that mouth of yours could do more than tease me for reading too much all these years…”

He let out a small laugh, husky and low, brushing his nose against her pulse. “Doll… if you keep talking like that, I might forget how to be a gentleman.”

“Maybe I’m not looking for a gentleman right now,” she teased, voice velvet-soft. He pulled away, looking at her eyebrow raised smirk. Then he kissed her again. Deeper this time. He moved like he wanted to memorize every second. The warmth of her mouth. The curve of her smile against his. The way her fingertips trembled just a little when they slid down to his chest.

When he finally broke the kiss, it was only to press his lips to her temple, then her cheek, then the sensitive spot just below her ear. Her breath caught and she tilted her head to give him better access, her hands curling into the fabric of his shirt. Her answer was wordless, but he heard it loud and clear. He shifted slightly, guiding them back toward the bed without letting the moment lose its rhythm. No rush. Just closeness. Just her. His hand found hers again, fingers lacing together.

“Tell me if I go too far,” he whispered, eyes searching hers, heat tempered by something rare—patience.

She kissed him once more, soft and sure. “You won’t.” And with that, the space between them dissolved, in a blaze of fire.  Her hands slid slowly down from his neck, fingers brushing the slope of his shoulders, then tugging lightly at the hem of his shirt. Her eyes never left his, dark with intent, but still gleaming with that spark of mischief he knew all too well. “Too many layers,” she murmured against his mouth. “This one’s in the way.”

Johnny grinned into another kiss, something lazy and fond. With a soft chuckle, he let her lift his shirt, raising his arms over his head to help. The hem caught, just briefly, ruffling his hair into a tousled, utterly chaotic mess. A few strands stood almost comically upright, and the moment she pulled the shirt free and tossed it aside, she took one look at him and burst out laughing.

Johnny blinked, mock-offended. “Oh, so this is the moment I lose you?”

She tried to contain the giggle but failed spectacularly, reaching up with both hands to smooth his hair down. “You looked like a golden retriever that just got out of the dryer.”

“Rude,” he said, deadpan, though his grin betrayed him.

“Oh hush,” she said with a mocking grin, brushing her thumbs down his temples before letting her hands trail lower, across his bare shoulders and down his chest. Her voice softened as her fingertips traced the lines of him. “God, who knew all this was underneath the suit.” This, being his mostly unblemished skin. He wasn’t a body builder by any means, but he knew hero work kept him trim. Broader shoulders, little to no body fat, average enough muscles to be considered desirable. 

He leaned into her hands, gaze darkening, the lightness of the laughter folding neatly into something deeper, more magnetic. “Hardly seems fair I’m the one being studied like one of your ancient dig sites,”

She bit her lip, eyes flickering to his mouth before returning to his. “Maybe you should conduct your own experiment then, Mr. Engineer.”

Johnny reached out, cupping her cheek again, thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. His voice, when he spoke, was low and warm. “You know… I gotta say, you’ve had some pretty brilliant ideas over the years — like swapping lemons for oranges in lemonade or all those brilliant thoughts with your thesis — but this one might be the best one you’ve ever come up with.”

She leaned in, pressing her lips softly to the corner of his mouth. “Sweet talker…”

“Only for you Sweetheart," And just like that, they were drawn back into each other. His hands found her waist, splaying across her back to pull her flush against him as her fingers danced along his spine, feather-light, tracing each vertebra like she was reading a story written just beneath his skin. He shivered under her touch. Not from chill, Johnny Storm didn’t get cold, but he did get unnerved when kissing the love of his life.  As if every nerve attuned to her alone.

She leaned into him, brushing her lips along his jaw, down to the hollow of his throat, her breath warm against his skin. As her hands slid around his torso, he felt her pause before her fingers found the hem of her own shirt. She leaned back just enough to catch his gaze. He didn’t need to say anything. His eyes, suddenly so soft and open, held nothing but reassurance and awe. With a gentle motion, she pulled the fabric up and over her head, the cotton whispering over her skin as she drew it off. The moment stretched, her hair tumbling down slightly as the shirt dropped to the floor.

She sat there, perched in his lap, illuminated by the filtered golden light of the bedside lamp, chest rising and falling as he took her in. Johnny’s breath caught again, but he didn’t try to hide it this time. “You’re… wow.”

She arched an eyebrow, a teasing edge still lingering. “That's the best line you’ve got, Hotshot?”

He smiled, leaning closer, his hands finding her waist like they were meant to fit there. “Nah,” he whispered, brushing his lips along her cheek before finding the shell of her ear. “But I’m a little busy being knocked speechless.” She inhaled softly, her body curving into his, and the space between them disappeared completely. Skin against skin now, their warmth intertwining.

His hands moved slowly. Up her back, over her shoulders, as if memorizing every line, every dip and rise. She mirrored the motion, her fingers trailing along the sculpted heat of him, learning him all over again. No words now. They moved together like a tide, ebbing and flowing as they took their time beginning to learn each other in a way so wholly new to them, yet feeling natural as breathing. The kisses grew deeper, longer. Her hand tangled briefly in his still-rumpled blond hair, and he let out a low laugh against her lips, one that melted quickly into a groan when her nails on her other hand skimmed just beneath the waistband of his pants.

He pulled back slowly from their kiss, just enough to look at her fully. His thumb swept gently across her cheekbone as he stared at her, eyes dark with desire. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. Before she could respond, he dipped his head and kissed her collarbone, slow and tender. His lips lingered there, breathing her in. Warm skin and faint perfume. His hands stayed firm at her waist, grounding her, keeping her close. But then, as if pulled by something just beyond the moment, his eyes drifted past her, toward the window. His expression shifted, subtle but visible, eyes narrowing slightly, brow ticking with thought.

She caught it instantly. “What’s wrong?” she asked, voice still soft but edged with concern.

Johnny’s gaze flicked back to hers, and the mischief was already returning, curling at the corners of his mouth. He nodded toward the window behind her. “It got dark,” he said simply.

She blinked, then twisted her head just slightly to glance over her shoulder. The sun had slipped away entirely, leaving the room cloaked in soft shadows and the faint amber glow of the bedside lamp.

She shrugged lightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Time tends to do that.” But she could see something in his expression. Like he was thinking something he wasn’t quite ready to say out loud. Her brows lifted. “Okay, what is it?”

Johnny leaned in again, brushing a kiss against the edge of her jaw, then murmuring, “Nothing. Just had an idea….”

She laughed under her breath, fingers tracing along his ribs. “Are you going to tell me about this idea or…”

“Hmm,” he said, eyes gleaming. “I think I’ll just show you,” Before she could press him further, Johnny suddenly shifted beneath her.

“Wait—” she started, instinctively tightening her hold on his shoulders. But he was already moving, standing smoothly with a grin that could melt through concrete. She scrambled for balance, her bare legs tightening around his waist as she slipped slightly in his lap. “Johnny—!” she squeaked, laughing as her hands clutched at him for security.

“Hold on,” he warned, far too cheerfully, before adjusting his grip and flipping her effortlessly over his shoulder like she weighed nothing at all. Her gasp turned into delighted laughter, hands landing on his bare back as her hair tumbled toward the floor. “You maniac! What are you doing?”

“Showing you my idea,” he said, already striding across the room. From her upside-down vantage point, she could see the warm gleam of the hardwood floors and the soft golden spill of lamplight stretching ahead of them. And just beyond that, the vast sweep of the floor-to-ceiling windows, where the whole of New York City sparkled. She laughed again, helpless and breathless. “Johnny, if you don’t put me down, I swear—”

“Chill out would you,” he said, mock-offended. “I’m just letting you admire the view.”

He reached the windows and gently shifted her back upright, setting her down on her feet with care, hands lingering at her hips to steady her. Her body pressed lightly against his, breath still catching from the surprise, and the view. The city stretched out endlessly before them, a living constellation of blinking lights and blurred motion, hazy reflections dancing along the glass. She turned toward it, arms crossing over her chest as she took it in. “Okay,” she admitted, glancing sideways at him with a smile. “This is… pretty magical.”

Johnny stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder. “Told you,” he murmured, voice low. “Ambience.”

Her smile deepened as she leaned back into his warmth. Their reflections stood side by side in the glass. Bare skin against soft light, her hair tousled, his still a bit wild from her hands. The two of them were still somewhat composed but just rumpled enough it was somewhat jarring to see. Johnny Storm and her. After all this time. Caught in the middle of exploring one’s bodies. He felt like he might wake up any moment, and it all had been a dream. That was until she spoke. 

“You always do this,” she said quietly.

“Do what?”

“Surprise me. Just when I think I’ve figured you out, you pull something like this.”

He grinned against her skin. “Good. Keeps things interesting. Can’t have you growing bored of me.”

“As if I could ever grow bored of you,” she sighed, leaned back into him. From where he wrapped his arms around her waist, she pulled one into her hands, tugging it closer to her chest. He could feel the heat of her skin through her bra, eyes tracking the way the straps wound up and over her shoulders, clinched in the back. 

She let out a breath somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “As if I could ever grow bored of you.” Still pressed back into him, she found one of his arms wrapped around her waist and took his hand gently, guiding it upward, cradling it against her chest. The movement was quiet, trusting. Intimate. He could feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath his palm, feel the heat of her skin through the delicate fabric of her bra. His eyes tracked the way the straps kissed her shoulders, the gentle arch of her back where the clasp cinched it all together. 

Johnny swallowed, heart thudding against her spine. His free hand slid slowly along her side, fingers skating over her ribs, stopping just beneath the curve of her bust. He didn’t push further. He didn’t need to. “Your heart’s racing,” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“So is yours,” she murmured, her voice low, her head tipping slightly to the side in invitation.

He exhaled slowly, the sound low and uneven, pulled straight from the center of him. His hand remained pressed against her chest, the steady thrum of her heartbeat beneath his palm syncing with his own. “I noticed,” he said, his voice rougher now, threaded with heat. “You do that to me.”

She turned in his arms, just enough to face him, to look into his eyes. There was no teasing now, no veil of sarcasm or banter. Just her gaze and the closeness of his body to hers. Her hands slid up his chest again, fingers skimming across his collarbones before curling behind his neck, pulling him in with purpose.

She kissed him, passionately as she rose on her tiptoes to match his height. Johnny responded instantly, his hands tightening around her waist, then sliding upward along her bare back, tracing her spine until his thumbs found the clasp of her bra. He paused, not because he doubted her, but because he respected her. His forehead rested against hers, eyes locked, asking a silent question.

She nodded, wordlessly. The clasp came undone, the straps slipping down her arms. She shrugged out of it, the fabric pooling at their feet. Her bare skin caught in the glow of the city lights below them, and for a moment, Johnny just stared, quietly undone by the sight of her. “You really are…” he began, but the words didn’t quite come. None of them felt big enough. Instead, he kissed her again, deeper this time. More sure. His hands explored her, tracing up her sides, across her ribs, palms cupping the curve of her breasts. She responded in kind, her hands gliding over his torso, nails skimming lightly down his stomach until he shivered against her.

She pulled him closer to her by the waistband of his pants, her fingers working at the button of his jeans with quiet confidence. He let out a breath, watching her hands, then her eyes, the fire in his gaze stoked to full flame now. “You’re really not going to let me be a gentleman tonight, are you?”

She smirked, even as her touch remained tender. “Oh, you can be a gentleman. Just… after.”

That pulled a low, breathless laugh from him, and he leaned down to kiss her again, letting the world fall away piece by piece as he helped push the fabric of his tight jeans down his legs and stepped out of them. Without permission this time, and driven by her forwardness, he tugged at the skirt she wore, his fingers finding the zipper at the small of her back. “This fine?” he whispered against her lips as she sighed. 

“What did I just say, Johnny?” she asked, reaching around to help with the small, stubborn clasp at the top of her skirt.

“I just need to hear you say it. Permission to unleash the beast, Sweetheart.”

She groaned. “Ew. Don’t say it like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it sounds like you’re about to go pillage a village or something. You brute.”

He wiggled his eyebrows, grinning. “Et tu, Brute?” She gave him a flat look, unamused, though he caught the twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips. “You aren’t the only one who knows something ‘bout the Romans you know that” 

“That’s not historically accurate, you know? Shakespeare wrote that in the 16th Century—” Johnny didn’t pay attention to the rest of her scholarly rant, instead choosing to interrupt her with a kiss. Finally sliding his hands into the waistband of her now loosened skirt and pushing it down as he backed her into the wall of glass. She gasped when her back made contact with what he imagined was the cold glass, in only her panties. 

He pulled back slightly, his arms bracketing her in as a low, husky chuckle escaped his lips. “God, you’re so damn hot when you get all dorky, Princess.” His eyes roamed her blissful expression before nipping her neck again. Johnny shoved his thigh between her legs as he pushed her more into the surface of the glass behind her. 

She whimpered softly at the contact, her fingers curling into the curve of his shoulder. The cold glass against her bare skin only heightened the heat radiating from his body, from his mouth as it dragged along the curve of her neck, and from the firm thigh now nestled between hers. “You always do this,” she breathed, voice shaky, caught somewhere between flustered and aroused. “Distract me when I start talking,”

Johnny grinned against her throat, his breath warm as he murmured, “It’s not a distraction if it’s more interesting than your lecture on 16th-century playwrights.” She opened her mouth to retort, but it melted into a gasp when he rolled his hips forward, just enough to make her thoughts scatter. “Still want to talk about Shakespeare?” he teased, one hand sliding up to cup her jaw, tilting her face back so he could kiss her again, slower this time, deeper. And just like that, the words she’d been so ready to throw at him dissolved on her tongue.

She didn’t pull away. Not yet. Instead, she leaned into him, her body molding to the heat of him as her hands slid up his chest, fingers tracing the defined lines of his muscles. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, full of things they hadn’t said aloud yet, but felt in every press of lips and shift of breath. His thigh stayed firm between hers, grounding her, tilting her hips just enough to draw a subtle friction that made her toes curl. One of his hands tangled in her hair, tilting her head to the side as his mouth found the delicate skin just beneath her ear. He bit gently, then soothed it with his tongue, earning another soft sound from her throat.

For a moment, it was just them. The heat, the soft breathing, skin on skin, and heartbeats drumming out of sync. But then, a flicker of movement caught the corner of her eye. Beyond the blur of her reflection in the glass, the city stretched out. And they were front and center with bodies pressed flush, fogging the glass, easily visible from anyone in a nearby building who happened to glance the right way.

She stiffened slightly, breath hitching as her eyes darted to the skyline. “Johnny,” she whispered, a note of panic threading through her voice. “The window... people could see—”

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he laughed, low and shameless, the sound vibrating against her skin. “I know,” he murmured, brushing his lips over her cheek, then down to her jaw. “Kinda hot, isn’t it?”

She swatted at his shoulder, but her smile betrayed her. “Johnny.”

“What?” he grinned, tilting her chin up with two fingers, making her look at him. “Let ‘em see that you’re mine.” And with that, he kissed her again like the city didn’t exist at all.

She pulled back again, this time with a little more resistance, her fingers gently pressing against his chest. Her eyes flicked to the window, the city stretched out before them like a sea of watchful lights. “Johnny…” she said softly, breath still shallow. “This isn’t just any wall. That’s a full-length window. Anyone could be watching. This could... ruin your image.”

He didn’t move, just stared at her for a beat too long, and then… he smiled. That slow, crooked, infuriatingly charming smile that always seemed to unravel her. “Good.”

Her brow furrowed. “Good?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice low and certain, laced with a teasing edge. “Let them see. Let them snap a photo. Let ‘em lose their damn minds over it.”

She blinked at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and curiosity. “You want them to see us like this?”

His eyes dragged over her. She was flushed, breathless, skirt around her ankles, bare from the waist up, still pinned between him and the glass and he leaned in just enough for his lips to graze her cheek, his breath warm against her skin. “I want them to see me like this,” he murmured. “With you.” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his hands still firm on her waist. “I’ve spent years worrying about my image. But none of that means a damn thing if I’m still hiding behind it.” He paused, then said, quieter, but no less intense: “Truth is, I want the world to know who I’m with. What I’d do to have you like this. That I finally got something right.”

Her breath caught. “I want to be seen. With you. Touching you like this. Claiming you like this.” Her cheeks flamed, but she didn’t look away. “So yeah,” he added with a soft chuckle, brushing her hair back from her face. “Maybe it’s reckless. Maybe it’s messy. But it’s real. And I don’t give a damn if someone’s watching.”

She didn’t speak. Somewhere along the way, the words had deserted her, lost in the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind. He saw it clearly in her eyes: that distant, calculating look, as if she was running every possible outcome, weighing every risk and consequence. He’d seen that expression enough times over the years to recognize it. The way her mind needed a moment to process, to make sense of everything.

There was something both utterly endearing and maddening about it. “Think about it, sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice a low invitation.

His hands slid around her waist, firm and steady, pulling her gently away from the cold glass. Carefully, deliberately, he turned her so that she faced out toward the sprawling city below, with the endless grid of lights and life stretching into the night. His body pressed close against her back, heat radiating between them, grounding her. “Look at this view,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “Knowing that someone, somewhere, could just look up right now…”

His words dropped into a hush, teasing, deliberate. “…and see us.”

He let his hand drift slowly, his palm trailing a slow, deliberate path up the curve of her side until it came to rest, cupping her chest with a possessive tenderness. She swallowed hard, caught between the vulnerability of the moment and the raw desire coiling beneath his touch. “See exactly where my hands are,” he whispered, voice thick with meaning, his lips brushing against her skin as if marking her territory without a word.

Johnny’s palm tightened just a fraction, his fingers curling possessively as he pressed his body harder against hers. His voice dropped lower, thick with a teasing promise that sent a shiver down her spine. “Imagine someone out there, staring up, catching this exact moment… me wrapped around you, hands claiming every inch of you.” He paused, lips grazing her ear, voice a low, husky whisper. “Feeling your breath hitch when I pull those panties all the way down. Watching you melt against the glass, no place left to hide.”

He slid his hand lower, fingers tracing slow, tantalizing circles just beneath the curve of her hip, the heat of his touch sparking a fire she couldn’t deny. “See me trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, marking you where anyone could see it. The way your body arches toward me when I whisper your name…” He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her skin. “And maybe, just maybe, knowing that anyone could watch, it only makes it hotter.”

With a deliberate drag of his fingers, Johnny let the heat simmering beneath his skin spill into his touch as he traced a slow line down the center of her chest. Not enough to burn, but simply leave a warm trail across her skin, as if to remind her the immense power he contained.  His hand moved lower, curving with intention, until his fingers slipped just beneath the waistband of her underwear, hooking gently, possessively. “Side note,” he murmured, the grin audible in his voice, “these are really cute, you know? Little bow in the front, looking all sweet and innocent.”

He shifted slightly behind her, the friction between their bodies sparking hotter with every breath she took. Her reflection was hazy in the glass, breath fogging against it, lips parted. She didn’t speak. He saw her nod once, slow and dazed, her body melting more fully into his as she leaned back, letting him hold more of her weight.

“Tell me something, Doll,” he said, voice dropping into a slow, velvet drawl. His mouth hovered beside her ear, lips brushing her skin. “Out there in that arctic snow… on those long, freezing nights… what kept you warm?” His hand didn’t move, just stayed there at the edge of temptation, fingers curled in soft cotton, burning a promise against her skin.

He smiled when he felt her shiver. “Did you think of me?” he whispered, nipping her earlobe lightly. “Of these hands? Of this mouth?”

Her breath hitched, and that sound alone nearly undid him. “Did you imagine this?” he went on, pressing his hips into her just enough to let her feel the need simmering beneath his teasing words. “Me behind you, dragging my hands under your clothes?”

She gasped softly, caught between the intensity of his voice and the weight of his body. He caught her eye in the fogged glass, their reflections a tangled, beautiful mess. “Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxed, lips brushing her jaw as he spoke. “Be honest. When the nights were cold and quiet and no one was looking… was it me you needed to feel warm again?”

“How about I be honest about myself since you are blushing like a schoolgirl?” he murmured, slight humor in his tone. She didn’t answer but the slight tilt of her head, the way her breath stuttered, told him she was listening. “I thought about you,” he continued, lips brushing the shell of her ear, “in here. In the quiet. In the dark.”

His arms wrapped more securely around her waist as he leaned into her back, their bodies flush, the city still glowing in the window ahead of them. “My little archaeologist,” he whispered, letting the word roll off his tongue like something sacred. “Digging through my ruins like I was some ancient civilization. Cracking me open, piece by piece. Dusting off the parts of me I didn’t even know were buried.”

He took her hands in his, slow and reverent, lifting them between their bodies. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, one by one, before gently guiding her wrists forward until her palms rested flat on the cold glass. “Only difference?” he said, his tone shifting to something darker, rougher, a flicker of heat building beneath the surface. “I wasn’t picturing your hands holding artifacts.”

He leaned closer, hips against hers, his chest flush with her back, his breath hot on her neck. “I imagined them wrapped around me.” His hands slid down her arms, skimming her ribs before settling at her hips, firm and claiming. “Not careful. Not delicate.”

He kissed her shoulder, slow and deep, his fingers tightening just slightly at her hips. “So now I’ve told you,” he whispered. “Your turn.”

She hesitated, her breath stalling in her throat. The glass beneath her palms had fogged from how close she was breathing, but she barely noticed. Her eyes flicked up to the reflection in front of her. Johnny  pressed against her back, lips at her shoulder, his blue eyes dark and steady on her like he could read every thought in her head. She swallowed, her voice caught somewhere between a whisper and a moan.

“I… I tried not to,” she admitted finally, her voice trembling with the weight of confession. “I tried to focus on the work, But…” His grip on her hips tightened, just slightly, encouraging. “But I kept thinking about you,” she breathed. “About your hands, your voice… the way you look at me when you think I’m distracted…”

She let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut. “I thought about what it would feel like to have you pressed against me like this… your hands under my clothes… your mouth on my skin. Not careful. Not controlled. Just, you. I always wanted to know how you’d feel against me, loving me.”

He groaned softly behind her, the sound deep and low in his throat.

“You don’t know how close I came to hopping on a plane and finding you,” he muttered, voice rough now, lips dragging along her neck, each word a promise. “It took everything in me not to abandon my work when I got that letter and we heard about the Harold. Not because I was worried but because if I was going to die, I wanted to be loved by you. Just once. That stupid cold weather only made it more apparent the heat I was missing. Literally and metaphorically.”

“Well, now you’re here,” he said, pressing her hips back into his, making sure she could feel just how much he meant it. 

She let out a soft, unsteady laugh, her forehead pressing lightly to the glass. “You say that like you’re trying to thaw out all those months in a single night.”

“I am,” he said, without hesitation.

His hands slid up from her hips, curling around her wais. He buried his face against the side of her neck, inhaling her like he’d been starved of it. “I rewrote that damn letter a hundred times,” he said, voice low and almost ragged. “I couldn’t sleep thinking about you out there. And I kept thinking… what if I never get to tell her?”

“Tell me what?” she asked, her voice small, but her body pressing back against him, craving the answer like breath.

He whispered the next words directly into her ear, his lips brushing the shell of it. “That I’ve loved you since before I was brave enough to admit it.” A pause. Then— “That I’d trade every ounce of my reputation, every damn headline, even my powers, for just one night of you letting me love you the way I’ve wanted to for years.” He guided her hands back to the glass again, palms flat, grounding her.  “I want to feel you burn, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Every part of you. I want to replace that cold with something you’ll never forget.”

Then his other hand slipped lower, deliberate and slow, fingers tracing the waistband of her panties again, but this time with more purpose, more certainty. “Say it again,” he murmured. “Tell me you wanted me.”

She didn’t hesitate this time. “I didn’t just want you,” she said, voice cracking from emotion, not nerves. “I needed you, Johnny.”

He pulled her chin to the side, guiding her mouth to meet his over her shoulder, the kiss rougher this time. It was needy, claiming, full of everything he hadn’t said until now. She responded without hesitation, lips parting for him like she’d been waiting, too. His feet nudged hers apart, widening her stance until she was perfectly open for him. His body remained pressed close, his chest flush to her back, his hips locked behind hers like he had no intention of letting her go.

“You don’t know what that does to me,” he muttered against her mouth, not pulling back fully, just breathing the words across her lips. “Hearing you say you needed me…” He slid a hand up, between the valley of her breasts. “I should’ve come to you sooner,” he said, voice low and firm now, no teasing in it. “I should’ve chased you to the ends of the earth the second you left.”

He slid one hand between her thighs, cupping her over the soft cotton of her underwear. She whimpered,  at the touch and he smiled against her skin. “Someone’s eager,” Johnny murmured with a low chuckle, pulling back slightly to glance at his fingertips, slick with proof of just how ready she was. The sight alone sent a thrill straight through him.

He leaned away for only a moment, just long enough to shove the last of his clothes to the floor. His briefs dropped in one smooth motion, followed by her cotton panties, tugged down her thighs with little ceremony. As the fabric slipped past her knees, he felt her body give a subtle shiver.

“Cold?” he asked, voice softer now. She shook her head. “Nervous?” Another gentle no. “Excited?” he asked, his tone dipping just slightly.

This time, she nodded. Johnny smiled, warmth and desire blending in his expression. “Me too.”

He stepped in again, bare and unguarded, hands sliding around her waist to guide her hips into just the right angle. His gaze flicked to the city lights beyond the glass. Then to her reflection. Then back again. “It’s just you and me now,” he said, voice low, almost reverent. “And this ridiculous view.” Then, with a half-smirk and a breathless kind of boldness, he added, “Cleopatra and Mark Antony in their ivory palaces, making the kind of love that destroyed empires.”

He wasn’t entirely sure where that line came from, something she’d probably once said in passing, tucked in a lecture or between pages of a book. But the soft smile she gave him in the reflection —equal parts surprised, touched, and impossibly fond — made him glad he said it. “See?” he whispered, brushing her hair from her neck before pressing his mouth to it. “Told you nerdy history talk gets me going.”

She laughed and then melted against him as the city stretched wide. Her laugh faded into a quiet, breathy hum as he kissed down the slope of her neck, teeth grazing just enough to make her press harder into the glass. His hands roamed, palming her hips, then sliding up her sides, like he was memorizing every inch of her skin now that nothing stood between them. "You feel that?" he murmured against her shoulder, one hand guiding her hips back against the full length of him. The heat of him was undeniable, given he was hard, hot, and aching for her.

She answered with a soft gasp, her fingers curling slightly against the glass. Johnny smiled against her skin. “It’s what you do to me,” He dipped his head lower, kissing along the delicate line of her spine, his voice husky and warm. “You know I used to imagine this exact moment?” He kissed just above the dip of her lower back, his fingers trailing back up to cup her chest, thumbs grazing softly over sensitive skin. “Just you,” he whispered. “And me. Making a history of our own.”

She turned her head just enough to meet his eyes in the reflection again. “Then stop imagining,” she whispered back, voice trembling from desire, “and make it real.”

That was all the invitation he needed. With one last kiss pressed to her shoulder, Johnny guided her hands higher on the glass, aligning their bodies as he slid a hand between her thighs, parting her gently before pressing forward slow and steady. A groan ripping from his throat as he sank into her. She cried out softly, her forehead resting against the cool pane, fingers splayed wide as her body adjusted to him.

Johnny’s grip on her waist tightened. He pressed his mouth to her ear, voice rough,  “Shit—”

She couldn’t speak, only moaned, as he smiled again, kissed her temple, then began to move. Slow at first. Deep. Unhurried. Like he wanted to etch the moment into the marrow of her bones. Like he wanted her to feel him for days. 

“You feel amazing—” he muttered, forehead resting on her shoulder as he kept moving, slowly pistoning his hips as he felt her open up for him more and more. 

“Johnny—” His name fell from her lips like a breath she’d been holding too long, fragile and aching. There was something in her tone, something that made his chest tighten. It wasn’t just pleasure. It was more than that. It was need. But for what, he wasn’t entirely sure. Comfort? Release? Reassurance? He didn’t ask. He just listened: with his hands, his body, his breath, each motion slow and steady, meant to keep her tethered to him. His hips rocked into hers in a deep, rolling rhythm, her soft gasps syncing with every thrust like music only the two of them could hear.

The window before them bore the evidence of their shared heat. Fog blooming beneath her breath, the smudged outlines of her trembling palms, streaks from where her forehead had rested, lips parted, dragging slightly across the cool surface as she moaned his name again and again. Droplets pooled and rolled down the glass, mingling with the heat radiating off her skin. Her fingers clawed lightly at the pane, too gone in sensation to care. Too focused on the way he filled her, slowly, completely, almost as if he was carving himself into her with every motion.

Johnny’s forehead still rested against her shoulder, lips moving just beside her ear now. “Talk to me,” he murmured, voice raw and pleading. “Tell me what you need from me right now.”

She made a soft, breathless sound, almost a whimper. “You.”

He smiled against her skin, but there was something almost solemn about the way his arms tightened around her middle. “You’ve got me,” he said. “You’ve always had me.”

He adjusted his angle, just slightly, and her entire body shuddered against him, legs threatening to give. He caught her, hands steady, mouth never leaving her skin. “I want to ruin you for anyone else,” he whispered, pressing a kiss just below her jaw. “I want you to feel this every time you think about leaving again.”

“Johnny—” she gasped again, this time breaking apart with the way he filled her, slower now but deeper, more deliberate.

He bit down gently on her shoulder, a slow, teasing pressure that made her shiver. “Still don’t know what you’re begging for, Doll, when I’m already right here. Can’t possibly be any closer.”

Her breath hitched, voice barely more than a wheeze. “Bed,” she gasped, legs trembling so hard it felt like they might buckle beneath her.

Johnny shifted effortlessly, taking on more of her weight without breaking his rhythm. “Not until you finish, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with certainty. “I know you’re close.”

“But—” Her eyes went wide, panic flickering like a candle in the dark, and he shook his head softly, a slow, reassuring smile curling at his lips.

“You won’t fall,” he promised, steady and sure. “I’ve got you.” He pressed a lingering kiss to the nape of her neck, voice dropping to a low rumble. “But I want to watch you come undone at least once. Let me see it, feel it. Every last shiver, every breathless gasp.”

She swallowed hard, her body trembling not just from desire, but from the weight of his words. Vulnerability wrapped tightly around them both, fierce and raw. Johnny deepened his pace, each movement slow and deliberate, as if savoring a secret that belonged only to the two of them. “Let go, Princess,” he whispered, voice rough and tender all at once. “You don’t have to hold back.”

Her hands pressed against the glass tighter, knuckles white, as her body began to unravel—soft gasps breaking into sharp cries, trembling legs. When the first wave finally broke over her, Johnny didn’t falter. Instead, he slowed, anchoring her with steady hands, his breath mingling with hers, warm and steady. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “You’re safe,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

She leaned back into him, the tension slowly melting as his arms wrapped around her. The cool glass pressed against her chest was forgotten, replaced by the steady heat of his body.  Johnny rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed, savoring the quiet aftermath. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “More than I ever deserved.”

She smiled, eyes shining, tracing the line of his jaw with a trembling finger. “I’m yours,” she breathed.

“Always,” he promised, sealing the word with a kiss full of everything he couldn’t say aloud. For a long moment, they just held each other, the city lights flickering beyond the glass, a silent witness to something that felt as infinite as the stars. Then, her weight shifted, growing heavier against him, her contented sighs gentle but insistent.

Johnny lowered his head, pressing her closer to his chest as he took slow, steady steps toward the bed. The world narrowed to the softness of her skin beneath his palm, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the faint warmth radiating from her body. He eased them down onto the mattress, careful not to break the fragile calm that had settled over them. She curled against him, fitting perfectly into the space he made, and for a few precious moments, the fierce fire of desire dimmed to a quiet ember. He closed his eyes, willing his racing mind to slow, to savor this. The rare stillness where nothing else mattered but the rise and fall of her chest. 

Her fingers traced lazy, deliberate patterns along his arm grounding him in a way he hadn’t even realized he needed. The quiet between them stretched, comfortable and full. “That was amazing,” she whispered softly after a few more heartbeats of silence.

Johnny exhaled deeply, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips as he propped himself up on one elbow to look down at her. “Yeah, it really was.”

She returned his gaze with a sleepy smile, eyes still heavy with the warmth of the moment. “Long time coming.”

“I’ll say,” he scoffed, poking her cheek playfully. Her eyes snapped open, wide and bright, meeting his with mock indignation. “No sleep for you. Entertain me,” he teased, voice low and mischievous as he flashed her the puppy dog eyes he’d perfected in youth.

She blinked the last remnants of sleepiness away, a sly smile curving her lips as alertness returned. “You’re so childish sometimes,” she murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. Then, her eyes flicked down toward his waist with a knowing gleam. “But I think I’ve rebounded enough. Need some help with that?”

“That’s not—”

“I want to,” she interrupted, already shifting, moving over him with confident grace. Her knees bracketed his hips, the warmth of her body pressing into his, igniting a spark that left no room for hesitation.

Johnny’s breath hitched as she settled atop him, her hands framing his face with a tenderness that made his heart beat faster. “Well, Princess,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire and something softer, “I can’t say no to that.”

Her smile deepened, eyes locked on his, as the room seemed to shrink until it was just the two of them. Johnny’s hands slid up to cup her hips, steady and sure, but then a sudden thought pulled him back to the present. “Hold on, I should—” He sat up quickly, her arms tightening around his shoulders, as he searched for his nightstand.

“What is it?” she asked, brow furrowing with curiosity.

Johnny glanced between her and the cluttered surface beside the bed. “I need a—” He hesitated, swallowing down the awkwardness curling in his throat. “Well, you know…”

The word felt strange on his tongue, like a relic from a younger version of himself. A fumbling college kid scrambling for protection handed to him by an overzealous RA. Even now, with all that had passed between them, saying it aloud made him feel raw, exposed in a different way.

She caught the flicker of hesitation in his eyes and smiled softly. “Johnny,” she whispered gently, “we’ve already been going without one.”

He shook his head with a wry smile. “I know that. But a little foreplay by the window and actually going all the way? That’s a whole different story. Besides,” he added, voice low and teasing, “I’ve seen what happens without one. Screaming, yelling... every color of the rainbow that has no business but ends up in diapers anyways. Not happening. Not yet, anyway.” He scoffed lightly, his mind drifting for a moment to his nephew just down the hall. The unintentional little miracle his sister was still figuring out. The memory brought a brief, amused pause to the tension between them.

She laughed softly, the sound warm and unguarded against his chest. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess it’s probably smart to take precautions.”

Johnny smiled against her skin, the curve of his lips brushing her temple as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss there. “For now, at least,” he murmured. Then almost boyish, “Maybe someday though?”

“Someday,” she echoed, her voice tender and certain.

He could see it if he let himself. Two kids from a quiet cul-de-sac who never quite outgrew the chaos, but just evolved with it. Now a little older, maybe a little wiser, building a life that smelled like coffee in the mornings and old books in the afternoons. A home filled with laughter and soft music, and a mischievous little blur of blonde hair and blue eyes tearing down the hallway barefoot, dragging a battered mythology book twice their size.

He smiled to himself, barely aware of it until her fingers trailed gently across his chest. “What’s got you so distant, Star Man?” she asked, her voice light, but curious.

“Oh, nothing,” he replied, glancing down at her with that soft, secret smile still playing on his lips. “Tell ya about it someday.” He reached for the nightstand, but before he could open the drawer, her hand caught his wrist, halting him gently.

“About that…”

“Precautions?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m trying to—”

“Already taken care of,” she cut in smoothly.

He blinked, brows raising slightly as he tilted his head. Then realization dawned, slow and warm. “Oh…” Still, his hand hovered near the drawer as he cast her a sideways look. “You do know the pill’s not a hundred percent, right? Timing, absorption, all that, it has to be taken right. Unforeseen consequences can occur.”

She burst out laughing, a rich, genuine sound that filled the room. “How do you even know that?”

He pointed toward the hallway with mock solemnity. “Because I know an unforeseen consequence. His name is Franklin. You met him earlier today. Tiny, loud, covered in applesauce.”

Her laughter doubled, spilling from her lips in that effortless way that always seemed to disarm him. “He is really cute though. Looks a lot like Sue.”

“Funny thing is,” Johnny said, relaxing back into the pillows with a small grin, “she sometimes accidentally calls him Johnny. Swears it’s subconscious. I’ve seen the old photos—back when my hair stuck up like a puffball and my cheeks were basically two apples. I don’t blame her. Franklin’s basically my clone in miniature form.”

“That’s… good to know,” she murmured, her voice muffled slightly as she nuzzled into the warmth of his chest.

He tilted his head, raising an amused eyebrow. “And why is that?” he asked, playfully tugging her back so she couldn’t hide in his skin.

“No reason,” she replied, too quickly, too smoothly—playing coy as her eyes danced away from his. But the blush blooming at the tops of her cheeks gave her away.

He didn’t press. He could’ve—would’ve, if he hadn’t been afraid that pushing her would mean revealing the thoughts swimming in his own head. Thoughts that felt too bold, too soon, and yet… so tempting to say out loud.

Instead, he just looked at her.

Still grinning, she leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and slow. “Well,” she murmured, her voice dropping just enough to make his chest tighten, “if an unforeseen consequence ever did happen with you… I think I’d be okay with that.”

His smile faltered. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper. 

She nodded, resting her forehead against his. “Yeah.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It was full. Full of all the things neither of them had dared to want before. Full of possibility. Full of a future neither had planned, but one that didn’t feel quite so out of reach anymore. Johnny exhaled slowly, his hand finding hers between their bodies. He threaded their fingers together, grounding them both in something simple and certain.

“We’d make a pretty great team,” he said after a moment, his voice light but sincere.

She smiled, rubbing her thumb gently against his knuckle. “We already do.”

“You know what I mean,” he murmured, nudging her nose with his in that teasing, affectionate way that always made her breath catch.

“I do,” she replied softly. There was a pause before she added, “I think… I’d like a bit more permanence. Less traveling. Less being away from you for long stretches of time.”

Johnny’s brow lifted slightly, though his expression remained tender. “But you love your job,” he said, with genuine admiration. “Damn good at it too, I might add.”

“Anthropology isn’t going anywhere,” she said, shrugging lightly. “But I don’t have to take month-long or year-long contracts that send me halfway around the world anymore. There’s other work, closer work.”

His gaze sharpened, curious. “What about Harvard? It’s the best school for what you do. And we both know that.”

“Teach, yes,” she agreed. “But the Met has a position opening in preservation and research. I’ve been in talks with them. Waiting to hear back.”

Johnny’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell me about that.”

“That’s why I’m in New York,” she admitted, her voice a little sheepish. “I was waiting to hear more before I said anything. It didn’t feel real yet.”

“So… you might be moving to New York?”

“Well, yes, but—” she didn’t get the chance to finish. His lips were already on hers. When she finally pulled back, breathless, her smile was laced with amusement and something softer beneath. “Seems like you’re okay with that.”

“More than okay,” he said, brushing his thumb along her jaw. “Man, can you imagine? It’ll be the first time we’re in the same place since what… we were teenagers?”

“Eighteen,” she said with a nostalgic smile. “Riding high on life that summer before we left for college.”

Johnny let out a low laugh. “How could I forget that summer? Water balloon fights in the backyard… that polka dot bikini…”

She scoffed, swatting lightly at his chest. “Please. You were not paying attention to my bikini back then.”

He grinned, unrepentant. “Wanna bet? I was absolutely paying attention. Hell, I jerked off to the memory of that bikini for months.”

Her jaw dropped in mock offense. “You did not.”

“Oh, I did,” he said with a teasing wink. “You’d be impressed at how much that impacted my young mind, and how many fantasies it inspired”

“You’re such a dog,” she muttered, rolling her eyes even as a laugh escaped her.

“Guilty,” he said, not even try. 

She didn’t reply, only tipped her face into his pillows to hide the blush again. He reached for her, pulling her close, their foreheads resting together. “So if you get the job…”

“If I get the job,” she whispered, “I stay.”

“Good,” he whispered back. His thumb brushed the curve of her cheek as he held her there, their foreheads pressed close like the world outside had shrunk to just that small space between them. “Because I think I’ve had enough of you in different time zones and postcards.”

She let out a breathy laugh, eyes still closed. “It wasn’t all bad, was it?”

“No,” he admitted. “But this? Waking up to you? Knowing you’re here, not halfway across the globe on some dig or lecture tour?” He shook his head slightly. “Would certainly help me sleep better at night.”

“Well, I think—I know—I want to do this with you,” she said softly, “New York has options. It’s not the only path, but it’s a path. And I just… I missed you so much, Johnny.”

There was a brightness in her eyes as she spoke. A soft, unguarded gleam that made his heart ache in the best way. He reached up, brushing his thumb gently along her jaw, his voice low and sincere. “You always have a home here, if you want it, Princess,” he murmured. “Whether or not the Met calls, this place would be better with you in it.”

She smiled, slow and full, her lips brushing his as she whispered back, “Then I guess it’s time to see what life looks like when we’re not running in opposite directions.”

Johnny pulled her in close again, their bodies slotting together like they’d always been meant to find their way back. He kissed her temple, then rested his chin lightly on her head. “I don’t need all the answers yet,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet. “But I know I want to wake up next to you more often than not. I want slow mornings, your books on my nightstand, coffee cups always going cold because we’re too busy talking. I want a future that doesn’t start someday. I want it now.”

She didn’t speak right away, just let out a slow, trembling breath, her fingers curling into his side. “You always did have a way with words,” she murmured. “But… yeah. That sounds like a future I could fall into.”

“Then let’s do it,” he said simply. “Let’s build something here.”

A sly smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “What are you waiting for?” she said, voice dipping into something suggestive. 

Johnny raised a brow, laughter humming in his throat. “You were the one who stopped me from getting a condom, telling me in no uncertain words, you were happy with an unforeseen situation. How’s a fella supposed to react to that one appropriately? Pounce you immediately and pray it sticks?”

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “I did say that, didn't I? How you respond to it is up to you.”

His pulse quickened instantly, the warmth between them rekindling with just that single breath against his skin. His hands slid instinctively to her waist, voice low and laced with amusement. “Careful, Princess. You start talking like that and I might take it as an invitation to start laying foundations right now.”

She laughed but didn’t pull away. Instead, she shifted over him, her fingers trailing slowly down his chest. “Perhaps I’m saying I’m ready for a little... blueprint revision.”

His grin turned wicked, hands roaming with a familiar heat. “Guess we better start drafting... thoroughly.”

“Draft away, my Engineer,” she laughed softly, turning her face to press a kiss to the inside of his palm where it rested beside her cheek.

Johnny’s grin deepened, a bit of wonder in his eyes as he studied her. “Is now a good time to admit that earlier was... incredibly enticing, but I’m kind of regretting that our first time didn’t involve me being face-to-face with this beautiful view?”

She smirked, tilting her chin just slightly. “Who said the first time is over?” Her voice dropped, husky with implication. “I’d say it’s not over until you finish... which could be right now if you keep looking at me like that.”

He barked out a quiet laugh, brushing his nose against hers. “Well, let’s not make it right now. I’d like to last a little longer than that.”

“Then,” she said, fingers curling into the sheet beside them before sliding up to his shoulder, “get over here before I lose my patience.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Johnny moved, pulling himself over her body, knocking her legs apart with his knees with ease. The whole evening, the heat, the newness colliding with his past, and the reassurance she wanted more than just tonight, all causing that hesitation to vanish. He lined himself up with little to no warning. She knew as well as he did that everything they’d said had pushed them both to this moment, and delaying any further was not an option. 

“Look at me,” he told her, seeing how her eyes drifted shut as he got himself into that position, pausing. Her eyes snapped to him and in that moment with fingers intertwined he finally achieved the biggest dream he’d ever had of his whole life. Feeling completely enraptured with the one who’d owned his heart all along.

It hit him all at once, like a wave crashing over every inch of him. The overwhelming sensation of her. The warmth of her skin, the pull of her body, the way they fit together like something carved by time and intention. Her eyes held him there, unwavering, full of fire and something deeper. Something ancient and tender. Her breath, her touch, the way their hearts seemed to beat in sync. And beneath it… love. Not loud or boastful, but steady. Infinite. A love so vast, so rooted in every shared glance and stolen moment, that he couldn’t tell where it began or ended.

But he knew one thing: he’d spend the rest of his life tracing its shape.

“I love you,” he breathed, voice cracked with everything he felt. “Fuck—”

“Johnny,” she sighed, soft and full of something close to awe.

“Say it again,” he whispered, desperate and undone. Begging. Johnny Storm didn’t beg, but in that moment, pride meant nothing. Not when hearing her say his name like that made the world tilt beneath him.

“Johnny—” she said again, a little more breathless this time. It was a prayer. A promise. A tether. And he clung to it like salvation.

His rhythm quickened, driven by something far greater than desire: devotion. The need to chase that edge, to feel the full force of what they were building, body and soul. And even as the tension climbed, his mouth didn’t stop, words spilling from him like truth too long held back. “All yours… always yours,” he panted, forehead pressed to hers, eyes locked like the world narrowed to just this. “I love you… future… us…”

Each syllable was ragged, torn from someplace deep. Vulnerable, reverent, real. Like he was anchoring himself to her with every breath, every movement. Because he was. She wrapped her arms tighter around him, her own gasps now trembling with emotion as much as pleasure. “Johnny…”

“I can’t—” 

“Don’t,” she whispered, voice trembling as she clung to him. Her hands curled into his back, grounding him, anchoring him. He couldn’t look at her, not right now. His face pressed into the curve of her neck, breathing her in.

And then he felt it. The warmth on his own cheek. He tried to ignore it, to will it away, but it was there. Her quiet sighs rose around him, not just sounds of passion, but of trust, of surrender. And something about that — her so open and present — tore straight through his defenses.

He didn’t have words. Not for this. Not for the storm inside him that surged, cracked, and finally broke. A low, shuddering sound escaped him as he held her tighter, the moment cresting and crashing in his chest like a tidal wave. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting it wash over him, letting her be the only thing he felt as the rest of the world faded as he spilled inside of her. 

“Well, that was…” she started, voice uncertain.

“Yeah,” he replied softly, voice rough with emotion.

“And we just—”

“We did,” she confirmed, a small, honest smile breaking through.

He took a steadying breath, eyes locked on hers. “I love you, Johnny Storm.” Her smile deepened, warmth flooding her gaze.

“Well, that’s good,” he said, humor flickering despite the weight of the moment, “because after that, I’m not sure I can live without you sticking around.”

She laughed quietly, the sound like a promise. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

For a long moment, they simply stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in, the world shrinking to just the two of them.

Then, almost shyly, she whispered, “What happens now?”

Johnny’s grin was slow but certain. “Now? We figure it out. Together.”

“Together. That’s been a long time coming.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

The end.

Thank you for reading!

[soullesscoffee]

how i feel opening up tumblr to read x reader ffs at my big age

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as time goes by — johnny storm x fem!reader Johnny has developed feelings for you, the girl who owns the record store down the street.

warnings: none? just fluff. all the musical stuff is probably not aligned to the time, self indulgent masterlist

Johnny first discovered your store when he almost crashed through it.

Usually, if he gets hit mid-fight, he’d accept the blow and deal with the damage later, but when he read the neon sign of a record store, he actually swerved mid-air to avoid wrecking it — and ended up slamming into a parked delivery van instead.

Worth it.

Because then you came running out, worry etched across your face. Johnny, still half-stunned and definitely nursing something in his lower back, froze. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful.

“…H-hi.” He managed, smiling in this awkward, lopsided way that made his attempt at a wave look more like a half-hearted flail.

He then heard Ben calling after him and Johnny winced, muttered something about “duty calls,” and launched himself back into the chaos — but not before stealing one last look at you.

You blinked at him, caught off-guard by the fact that in the middle of a major fight, Johnny Storm was grinning at you like you were the most interesting thing on the block. And before you could help it, you smiled back.

Johnny’s been a regular ever since.

He comes to your store once every few days, sometimes just to browse and listen to whatever you’re spinning, sometimes to actually buy something. But every single time? He brings you coffee and a donut.

“If I get diabetes, it’s your fault, Johnny.” You say as you bite the last of your donut.

“I like feeding you, what can I say?”

You’d give Johnny song recommendations, and every time he comes back home to listen to them, he feels closer to you. He feels like he understands you. That this is your passion, this is love. And Johnny feels all warm inside because he’s never quite felt this way before.

There’s a certain satisfaction he gets when he sees you so concentrated trying to rearrange your vinyls, or when you’re cleaning them���he loves watching you do your thing.

Johnny leans an elbow on the counter, watching you lick the sugary glaze from your fingertips. His gaze lingers a beat too long before he looks away, pretending to be interested in the song playing over the speakers. “You listen to this stuff?”

You give him a look. “It’s Edith Piaf. La Vie en Rose. It’s a classic.”

“I know,” he says, leaning closer across the counter. “It’s so… romantic.”

Your raised brow turns into a furrow. “Yeah, I like romantic stuff. What of it?”

His eyes go wide, caught off guard. “No, I mean—you’re just—you don’t look like the type—”

You tilt your head, an amused smile tugging at your lips.

“—that came out wrong, I—”

“Relax, Sparky,” You decide to give him a fitting nickname, “I get it.”

Johnny shuts his mouth, pressing them into a straight line. He blew it.

Truth is, Johnny’s never met anyone like you. Not just because you have a smile that makes his chest feel warm even without his flames, but also because you’re headstrong. You don’t take shit from anyone, and you’re not afraid of anything. As far as he knows.

He flips through a couple of vinyls, pretending to browse, but really just stealing glances at you behind the counter. The thought’s been in his head all day, and now it’s either ask or combust.

“Hey, so,” He starts.

You look up from your book.

“I, uh… I have this vinyl. First pressing. Billie Holiday.” He hears the tiniest gasp escaping you. “Do you maybe wanna… come over and listen to it together?”

Johnny braces for the no. For the polite smile, the ”thanks but no thanks”, the part where he has to laugh it off. Instead—

“Okay!”

Short-circuit. His brain fries. He’s ninety percent sure his heart’s trying to punch its way out of his chest.

“Johnny?” You wave your hand in front of him. “You okay?”

“Yeah—yeah—totally.” He clears his throat, trying to keep it cool. “Uh, you… wanna go now?”

You check the time—4:45pm, almost closing time. Without hesitation, you grab your jacket, flick off the lights, and sling your bag over your shoulder. “Let’s go.”

You’re not entirely sure why you said yes.

Part of it is because you can’t deny your attraction towards Johnny. He’s… gentle, funny, and his gestures tells you that he cares. That maybe he likes you.

…But who’re you kidding?

He’s Johnny Storm. One of the Fantastic Four. An astronaut. A name everyone recognizes, someone the whole world looks up to. And you? You’re just a girl who runs a record store, who lives in the comfort of music, vinyl, and turntables. You live in two different worlds.

It’s your first time in the Baxter Building. And though you were intimidated at first, after Johnny gave you a tour, it feels homey. Makes you see him in a more… normal way.

“So, that was a tour of Casa de Storm,” he says, sweeping his arm like a tour guide. “Don’t mind the mess.”

The “mess” is a couple of shirts tossed over a chair and a few scattered pieces of paper on his desk.

You’re still glancing around when he’s already at the turntable in the corner of his room, pulling something from its sleeve like it’s a sacred artifact. “Feast your eyes,” he says, holding up the vinyl. The glossy black disk catches the light. “Billie Holiday. First pressing. As Time Goes By.”

You smile, stepping closer to him. “Johnny… where did you even get this?”

He grins. “Let’s just say I called in a favor. And maybe sold my soul. But worth it.”

He sets the record down with care. The needle drops, and the soft crackle blooms into Billie’s voice, smooth and aching and romantic enough to feel dangerous.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the piano seep into your bones. “God, she’s amazing,” you sigh, head tilted back just slightly.

Johnny smiles, but his eyes never leave you. “She is.”

When you open your eyes again, his hand is already brushing against yours. A light touch—almost shy—but it makes your pulse kick up. You glance at him, half-amused, half-curious.

“What are you doing?” You say, still smiling.

His lips twitch, and he lifts your joined hands. “Dance with me,” he murmurs, his other hand settling at your waist.

You hesitate for a heartbeat—because this feels like stepping into something you can’t easily step out of—but then Billie sings about love so sure it can’t be mistaken, and your feet are already moving with his.

The two of you sway slowly in the dim light. The city glows faintly through the glass behind him, shadows and gold spilling over his shoulders. You can feel the heat radiating from his chest, and his gaze on you makes you look back at him. And just like that, your breath is caught.

His hand tightens just slightly at your waist, pulling you just a little bit closer. The space between you closing until you can feel the faint warmth of his breath against your cheek.

“Johnny…” You whisper, unsure if it’s meant as a warning or an invitation.

But the look on your face—soft, almost pleading—is practically begging him to kiss you.

And how can he say no?

Johnny leans in, his forehead brushing yours, and for a moment, all you hear is the vinyl and Billie’s voice. Then his lips meet yours, warm and sure, and your hold on him tightens. His hand slips up your spine and the kiss deepens, and you feel your knees getting a little weak.

When he finally pulls away, you’re both a little breathless, breathing in the same slow rhythm, the record still spinning in the background.

He smiles first, and you let out a chuckle, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“…What was that?” you ask, keeping your voice lighter than you feel.

Johnny lifts your chin, “That was me kissing you.”

Your lips part, searching for something to say—something to make sense of the racing in your chest—but all you manage is, “…Why?”

And it’s his turn to chuckle. “Why? I… I like you. I have feelings for you. Have I not been obvious with the coffees and donuts, and I mean, I keep going back to you. I can’t stop. I won’t.”

You bite back another smile, the warmth in your chest spreading so fast it almost makes you dizzy.

“You like me?”

“Yeah.”

“Johnny Storm likes me?”

He furrows his brows. “Why the full name?”

“I mean,” You chuckle, “You’re—Johnny Storm. The Johnny Storm. And I’m just… me. We live completely different lives, and you’re important to this world. I run a record store.”

Johnny’s frown deepens, like he doesn’t quite understand how you could see yourself as anything less.

“It doesn’t really add up,” you finish softly, though your smile lingers.

Johnny shakes his head, a slow grin tugging at his lips. “You have no idea, do you?”

“About what?”

“You make me feel normal. I don’t care if you run a record store or run the whole planet—” He tilts his head, still holding your gaze, “—you’re the person I want to be around. When I can’t sleep, I think of you and listen to your favorite songs because it makes me feel closer to you.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, and his voice drops. “You’re not just anyone to me.”

You blink at him, his words sinking in slowly.

“I like you, too.” You admit, “More than I probably should.”

Johnny’s grin is instant, wide and boyish, before he closes the distance between you again.

Just outside his room, there’s a shuffle of feet, and then Ben’s voice booms, “Please tell me you aren’t having sex to Billie Holiday.”

Johnny groans against your mouth. “You’re ruining my life, Ben!”

You just laugh, tugging him back to you.

[soullesscoffee]

I’ve been a marvel fan for 10 years… and NEVER have I wanted someone like I want him

[soullesscoffee]

tw: F4 SPOILERS!!

i have aloe, ibuprofen, and a dream.

vid: eamybeth

[soullesscoffee]

oh him? that’s my husband, johnny. he was lost in space

[soullesscoffee]

yes i have deadlines and responsibilities but do you know what i also have? thoughts about characters

[soullesscoffee]

ラリアット/rariatoo@単行本発売中

@rariatoo

[soullesscoffee]

he’s so baby girl

[soullesscoffee]

cosmic feelings ᯓ✧

chapter one: thaw

rating: teen

pairing: johnny storm x oc

word count: 5036

warnings: spoilers for fantastic four: first steps, character angst, domesticity, johnny being johnny, slow burn, amatuer first pov bc i'm so quirky and different.

chapter summary: as the team gathers for their usual sunday dinner, winifred finds herself caught between routine and revelation. a long-awaited announcement from sue and reed shifts the atmosphere, stirring emotions she thought she’d buried. old names soften, new warmth blooms, and for just a moment, she allows herself to thaw.

a/n: thank you all so much for waiting and anticipating this first chapter. i hope you love winifred as much as i did, making her up and embedding her in this world. she feels like a part of me. please reblog and share so i can have the pressure to keep updating. thank you all again! the lovely dividers are done by @saradika-graphics !!

My mother always said I was nosy since I could open my eyes. Many would look at that as a backhanded compliment, an insult maybe, but those little ‘pet names’ led me to being a journalist—one of the best in Manhattan. And, somehow, one of the first to go to space. 

That day still plays in my dreams.

I can’t remember much from the hours before launch, only fragments of prepping for a month of filming in space. I remember packing supplies—making sure there was more than enough. The case felt tenfold heavier as the Excelsior towered over me, its full, musty body of fuel making my head spin. But the fresh bitterness of the metal grounded me. My eyes could only admire the ship’s colors—chromatic silver, blinding the sunlight in every direction.

I had placed my case there before anyone else woke up, while idle bodies moved around the masterpiece for last-minute checks. 

I remember returning to the chambers where the astronauts and I had slept, trained, calculated, lived—for the countdown to the mission. The mission is to be the first humans on the moon.

I kept only one of the 35mm cameras out, set aside to document the excitement. I remember the peace of being the only one awake. I recall being nervous.

Maybe excited.

That didn’t last long.

Yet one memory always replays in my sleep.

I remember asking the astronauts to line up for one last group photo before the launch.

“Come on, everybody—squeeze in!”

Ben stood furthest to the left. Ben Grimm—one of the best pilots in the United States—always wore a stoic smolder in photos. Sometimes I couldn’t tell if that was just his resting expression or if he truly wasn’t capable of acting natural in front of a lens.

Next to him was Jonathan Storm, one of the youngest pilots in NASA. He always had a knowing smirk whenever I lifted my camera—blue eyes sparkling with mischief, confidence. In that moment, though, he wore the proudest smile I’d ever seen, spread across his handsome features.

Beside him stood his older sister, Susan Storm. A former genetics researcher, now one of the first women to go to space. Same blue eyes as her brother, which shone with warmth and confidence in this mission, in her family. By her side was the mind behind the entire mission—Reed Richards. Pride poorly hid the anxiety in his eyes as he held his wife close. As if the whole world rested on those shoulders. Which, in some twisted way, it did.

They all held their heads high, arms wrapped around each other, their proudest grins on full display as I pressed the shutter. The flash made them blink in surprise, followed by soft chuckles and mumbled comments.

“Perfect!” I exclaimed, a bit too excitedly—trying to mask my own nerves.

I didn’t even notice my hand flipping the lever near the shutter, or how my heart raced as the seconds ticked by.

“You too, Blanche—come in here. You’re part of this journey too. Don’t get camera-shy on us now.”

Ben had called out my last name a little louder to pull me out of my trance. The astronauts shuffled aside to make space. I’ll never forget the way they looked at me—warm smirks, reassuring nods, wordless invitations to join something bigger than myself.

I still don’t know how my legs moved. I just remember wedging myself between Sue and Reed, their arms curling around me—an embrace that anchored me in the moment. Just enough to help me stay still. To smile.

I don’t remember when I handed the camera off to one of the engineering assistants, but I remember staring into that abyssal lens.

“Everybody say space exploration!” Reed called out, pulling me closer with a burst of enthusiasm.

The gesture was unexpected. And warm.

I laughed, the sound breaking through the thrum in my chest.

“SPACE EXPLORATION!”

We all yelled toward the camera. Then came the flash.

The one I still see before I wake.

The final, normal clicking of the shutter.

The last normal photo of all of us.

Then I see them on the television screen—the Fantastic Four.

Standing tall on The Ted Gilbert Show as the in-studio audience cheers them on.

It’s been four years since the cosmic accident.

Since the failure of the Excelsior and our mission.

Yet that failure is what jolted them forward—turned them into a cosmic, universe-saving team. The most beloved family in the world.

Everyone was slightly different now.

We all carried ourselves differently.

I didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, when HERBIE’s chime echoed from the kitchen, signaling the team was on their way home. I peeled myself off the blue velvet couch with a sigh I hadn’t realized I was holding.

The last few notes of the show’s montage played—grateful voices thanking the Fantastic Four—before I leaned forward and twisted the television knob off with a click.

“I got the table, Herb,” I called out.

HERBIE responded with an excited whirl, followed by a flick of the wooden spoon that sent a splash of pasta sauce flying across the counter. A devastated noise escaped from the robot.

I pressed my lips into a thin line, trying to stifle the chuckle bubbling up.

I set the table for family dinner. It was a routine we all followed—a ritual, every Sunday at 8 p.m. sharp.

Somehow, I’d been pulled into it too.

Five years with the team probably qualifies me as part of the family.

Especially when your DNA’s been rewritten by the stars.

I shivered at the thought. Not because I was cold—at least, not in the usual sense.

If someone brushed past me, they’d think I was either severely anemic... or a walking corpse.

That’s why I always wore layers.

Whether it was meetings with Sue at the Future Foundation or just running errands, the gloves and coats weren’t for style—they were for survival.

The table was nearly ready when the familiar whir of the elevator caught my ear.

They stepped out in uniform—TV-ready, still aglow with cosmic purpose.

“Hey, I caught the tail end of it. You all looked amazing,” I chime, a proud smile spreading across my cheeks.

My bare hand brushes against one of the glasses I’d filled earlier, and it instantly chills. Frost creeps along the surface, the water inside as crisp as if it had just come from the fridge.

My eyes flick up from the glass to Sue and Reed, both of them smiling—breathless chuckles slipping past their lips. Reed looked especially proud of whatever it was he'd just said.

Ben and Johnny had made a beeline for the kitchen, per usual. Ben was always the head chef; poor HERBIE was just the sous chef.

“I had to look good for my girl. I had them do my hair just the way you like it,” Johnny quips from the kitchen.

I glance over my shoulder to catch him tearing into the bread and shoveling it into his mouth, a proud smirk dancing on his mischievous features.

That moment doesn’t last long—Ben starts bickering at him about washing his hands and how eating the bread would ruin his appetite.

I offer no response besides a dramatic roll of my eyes and a playful, cold turn of my shoulder as I follow Sue and Reed, ready to fill them in on the news I’d been holding onto.

This was the game Johnny had thrown himself into since the moment I met him—and somehow, I kept getting wrapped up in it. Determined not to let him win with his relentless wooing, I’d become a silent witness to his antics more times than I could count.

“I reviewed a few of the attendees for the next Future Foundation gathering, even sent another letter to Latveria—” I begin, keeping pace behind Reed and Sue as we reach the base of the spiral staircase.

But Sue turns around, cutting me off gently.

“Winnie, we’ve had this conversation. No work talk on Sundays after five. You need to take a break—just like the rest of us. We’ll talk about it tomorrow morning, I promise.”

I press my lips into a tight smile. She’s right. I do overwork. I always have. That’s what made me good at what I used to do. It’s what made me want to go to space in the first place.

“You’re right. You know how I get,” I say with a breathless chuckle through my nose.

My eyes briefly catch Reed’s worried glance in my direction—but I pretend not to notice. My gloved hand grips the railing as they continue up the stairs without me.

I turn around and head back toward the kitchen, my footsteps a little heavier now.

Ben was tasting the sauce HERBIE had cooked up. I leaned on the counter, watching the three in the kitchen, the corner of my mouth curling in faint amusement.

I didn’t even notice myself zoning out—eyes stuck on Johnny as he idly dipped two fingers into the sauce and dragged them slowly into his mouth, all while keeping his eyes on me.

Ben’s fist slamming against the counter jolts me from the trance. My body jumps in surprise as I realize I’d been staring at Johnny like an idiot.

My amused smirk is instantly replaced with wide eyes and a warm flush creeping up my neck.

Johnny, unfazed, shoots me a knowing wink before turning his attention back to HERBIE and Ben.

“Yeah, no. It’s not quite done,” Johnny says sassily to Ben as he turns over his shoulder to grab a beer from the fridge for the rock-made man.

He hands the bottle to me instead—another routine we’d fallen into.

I deglove my hand and press my bare palm against the amber glass. Frost creeps up from the base to the rim, chilling it perfectly.

I set the bottle down beside the cutting board, next to the pile of smashed garlic. Ben, who had kindly snapped me out of my earlier stupor, gives me a simple nod of thanks before turning his attention back to the food.

“How come you don’t do nice things like that for me, Winnie?” I hear Johnny call out from behind a mouthful of bread.

I raise a brow at his accusation, already testing where this is going. “I do a lot of nice things for you, Johnny,” I reply, pulling my glove back over my hand.

“Yeah, right. All you do is reject my love and compliments on a daily basis. Why won’t you let me warm up that cold heart of yours, Ice Princess?” he teases, grinning between bites.

I tilt my head slightly at his words, doing my best to keep the smirk at bay. “Oh? Then I guess you don’t want those exclusive records I had imported—the ones conveniently sitting on your bed. I can just return them.”

I shrug, casual as ever, as if the thought of returning them hadn’t cost me a pretty penny.

Johnny freezes, eyes going wide. “You found them?” he asks, voice cracking with disbelief.

I only shrug again, cheeks burning as I try—and fail—to hide the smug smirk blooming on my lips.

He corner-checks around the island with a hop of his hip into a stool, watching me closely. My eyes widen—I have no idea what he’s about to do.

And then I’m in his arms, lifted a few inches off the ground in a warm, sudden hug. The heat of his body sends goosebumps rising on my skin, the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention.

Instinctively, I loop an arm around his neck, the smirk breaking free from its prison. “You are the best, Winifred!” he beams.

I roll my eyes, still grinning as he sets me down. “Yeah, yeah. Remember that next time before you badmouth me.”

I swat playfully at his arm—warm as always.

“You are the woman of my dreams!” Johnny chirps as he skips off toward the staircase, disappearing in search of his records.

I sigh, a crooked grin tugging at my lips as I prop myself onto a stool. I turn back to Ben, who’s already watching me—his rock-carved features softened into a knowing look.

What exactly did he know... I wasn’t sure.

“What?” I ask, my grin fading into some twisted expression even I can’t explain. I tug at my sweater, suddenly feeling a little too exposed.

Ben only shakes his head, the gentle crumble of his rocky form mixing with a low chuckle. “Nothing... nothing.”

We sit in silence.

And that’s something I’ve always appreciated about Ben—he never felt the need to fill silence just to fill it. He could enjoy someone’s presence without a word. My eyes drift back to his hands as he stirs the pasta sauce, adding a few more things without needing to say what.

The aroma nearly makes my stomach announce its complaints to all of New York.

“How’s the writing been going?” Ben asks, slicing through the silence with gentle curiosity.

I meet his gaze—those soft blue eyes tucked beneath the heavy brow. I hesitate, but the look in his eyes reads me too well. My shoulders rise instinctively, like hackles on a dog’s back.

“Not a single word,” I admit, folding my arms, elbows on the counter as I lean forward, defeated.

Ben sighs. It’s not disappointment I hear in it... but it still feels like it. The pressure in my neck and shoulders tightens, making my heart feel heavy.

“I know it’s been hard. Ever since... all of this.” He gestures vaguely to himself with one massive hand—rock and humanity in one gesture.

And somehow, that only makes the cold in my chest ache more.

“I know you can write something great again. Something you care about.” He pauses. “You’ve been with us for five years. An assistant for four. I think it’s time you take the reins back, Winn.”

He’s trying to help. I know that. Trying to offer the spark, the inspiration I’ve lost—but all it feeds is guilt.

I haven’t touched a typewriter since the accident. My camera collection? Packed away in the storage unit at the Baxter Building, collecting dust. Just like the old developed photos. Just like that part of me.

I look away from Ben’s gaze—it’s too warm, too kind. It makes me rub my chilled arms.

“I’m just... busy,” I lie. “I’ve been running point with Sue on Future Foundation events. Then there’s the FF press, the branding stuff. I just don’t think I have the time.”

But I could. I do have the time.

I just care more about them. More about their futures than mine. And over time, I’ve slowly become okay with that.

Ben moves closer, placing his heavy hand on my shoulder. For someone made of rock, his touch is always the gentlest.

His thumb rubs slow circles into my shoulder blade. Comforting.

“I know it’s not the time you’re worried about.” The words land in my chest like a weight. I nearly lose my breath.

“It’s who you’ve become…”

His thumb keeps moving in slow, steady strokes. “You’re still you, Winn. Not just your powers. Not just this family. Not just the Fantastic Four.” He waits, lets the silence hold it all together. “You’re still you. You’ve got to make time to find that again.”

I lower my head a little more. The heat rising in my throat warns me that tears are closer than I want them to be.

I just shrug—cold shoulders drawn up, hiding.

Ben gently drops his hand to the middle of my back. “Don’t make me talk to Sue about taking you off some of those projects,” he lightly threatens in a protective tone. “We couldn’t have survived any of this without you. Now... It’s our turn to help you.”

He pats my back a few times and turns to HERBIE with instructions, but I don’t hear a word.

His final words echo in my mind, louder than anything else.

I sit alone in the kitchen. Shoulders hunched to my ears, head hanging low. A shiver ripples down my spine.

And just like that, the warmth of Johnny’s embrace fades, replaced once more by the cold I can feel in my bones.

I had taken out the tiramisu from the fridge that I had gone to a go-to bakery in Yancy for. It is one of my favorites, and with the emotional whiplash of this evening, I need a slice.

As I slice the cake into even parts, I feel sudden warmth glide across my lower back. It caused my back to go rigid and the same hairs to stand at attention. I instantly knew who it was.

Johnny has slid past to pluck an open box of Lucky Charms off the counter near me.

I watch him grab the box, giving him a look of warning, but he only smirks at me as he walks to the table, plopping down to shove a mouthful of dry cereal in his mouth.

Before I could even chime in that he would ruin his appetite, Ben had beaten me to it.

That warmth still lingered on my lower back. It was comforting. Addicting, nearly. Ever since I gained these abilities, I have always been drawn to warm things instinctively. I wasn’t cold per se, but I could feel it deep within.

However, deep in my mind, there was something that gnashed its cold fangs at me to keep away from the warmth. Warning me I don’t deserve it.

I gave HERBIE a nod as it had hit 8 p.m. on the dot, and the robot rang the dinner bell. I made my way over to the table with the tiramisu in hand, setting it next to the masterpiece of pasta that Ben had hijacked from the robot.

Everything smelled so delicious.

I lean over to place the cake down, and as I lift myself back up, I steal the box away from Johnny with a skillful snatch. His blue eyes look up at me with shock and feigned hurt.

“Don’t ruin your appetite,” I warn him, tucking the box under my arm as I sit in the empty chair next to him, pushing the box to the opposite end of me—far away from the blonde. I blocked out his protest about how hungry he was.

“They’re never late for Sunday dinner,” Ben noted as he looked around the main floor of the penthouse.

I follow his gaze, realizing who he meant. Sue and Reed were late.

I hesitantly speak up, “Should we continue without them?” I could wait, but I know how Johnny gets when he isn’t constantly eating something.

We all untuck the napkin sets from the plates that I had neatly set up before, unfolding them to our laps. It was the echo of footsteps and murmurs that came from the conversation area that piqued my interest.

Sue and Reed are walking together, side by side. Something was different from before.

There was a shift. The way they carried themselves was timid. That’s the one skill I didn’t lose as a journalist—the ability to read others.

“You’re late,” Johnny speaks blandly, almost annoyed at their tardiness.

I jerk my elbow into his rib in an attempt to ease him.

The couple freezes only a few feet from the table, their expressions both taken aback by the observation. I feel my brows knit together at their reaction. How could those words make them jump like that?

If it were possible, smoke would be coming from my ears.

My eyes scan Sue—her blinking expression and far stance are stiff.

“Wha… Uh—what do you mean?”

The puzzle in my brain seemed to click the pieces together at the mention of being late. Who else would freak out about the word late other than women? The implications made my heart race.

There was no way… was there?

Reed and Sue barely talked about trying anymore after a couple of years. So there was no possible way. Yet why was my cold heart seemingly beating so hard?

“What do you mean, what I mean? You’re late for dinner,” Johnny retorts back, putting his napkin in his lap.

I glance over to Ben, trying to clock if he possibly knew. Ben always knew before anyone else. It made me wonder how his brain worked half the time.

Yet seeing his hard eyes soften at the way he watched Sue sit down next to him caused my heart to lurch, my stomach to do flips, and my nerves to shoot goosebumps down my arms.

Sue is pregnant.

That was all my mind could think of as Reed and Sue bickered over how they were late searching for the aloe iodine.

I lean back in my chair, a gloved hand gently caressing my lips to hide my growing smile.

My eyes flicker to Reed, who had met my knowing eyes. When our eyes matched, I could see the failure at hiding something almost everyone knew at the table. The worry that etched into his forehead. The downturn of his lips. The way his fingertips tapped at the table. He knew I knew with just one look.

I glance at Johnny, who was seemingly focused on serving himself a helping of the pasta. I couldn’t help the eye roll that I sent in his direction, which caused him to pause and glance back at his sister and brother-in-law.

“Why’re you being weird?” Johnny interrogates his sister, picking up his glass of water.

“We’re not being weird,” Sue and Reed both say in unison, their exchanged glances only making my smirk widen underneath my fingertips.

“You’re doing that weird thing with your face,” Johnny clocks, sipping his water.

Sue stole a glance my way but instantly looked away when she clocked my expression, then turned to Ben—also looking away from him.

“You’re pregnant?” Ben flat-out questioned the blonde woman at the table.

My head whipped to Sue, watching her flabbergasted expression. That expression didn’t last long, as it melted into a warm smile. She shot up from her chair, pointing at Ben.

“Yeah,” she grins. “How did you know?” she questions Ben with the biggest smile I’ve seen on her face since her wedding.

I watch the two embrace, Ben lifting her slightly as they mumble amongst one another.

I looked at Johnny, who seemed to still be confused at the moment, and what was going on. He turns his head to me. I only give him a congratulatory smile and stand up from my chair.

I make my way around the table, holding my arms open for Reed. I embrace him as warmly as I can. He leans down to accept the embrace.

“Congratulations. This is amazing,” I excitedly whisper to him, rubbing his back between his shoulders.

I pull away and keep my hands on his arms, squeezing them.

“Smile, Reed. It looks like you’re going to pass out or have a panic attack,” I tease him gently, giving one of his arms a rub.

“It’s still brewing,” Reed teases back warmly and shifts his body so I can move past to give Sue an embrace.

I close my arms around her neck, holding her close. At that moment, I saw my vision blur, and tears began to well in my eyes.

I lean back, caressing her face.

“Congratulations! I’m so happy for you two. Three!” I correct myself with a tight chuckle.

The moment Sue sees my lower lip tremble involuntarily, I can see the shine of tears beginning to form in her eyes, too.

“No, don’t do it, Winnie,” Sue laughs lightly, but we both sniffle in each other's arms synchronously.

I involuntarily sniffle to keep the welling tears at bay. I pull aside toward Ben, instantly wrapping my arm around his as I glance over to Johnny, who still seems to be processing the celebration.

“Wait, really?” he asks so seriously it nearly shocks me.

Sue confirms his questions, and Johnny’s concerned, etched expression turns into full-blown glee. A bold laugh that would warm anyone’s heart leaves his chest. His eyes light up excitedly, and his hands slam on the table.

“What?!” he exclaims, shooting up from his chair and instantly connecting himself to his sister.

“You are going to be the best mom!” he bolsters as he embraces his sister, picking her up. The tears begin to blur my vision again at Sue’s proud expression as she embraces her brother.

Johnny instantly turns to Reed after putting his sister down.

“You are going to be the best dad!” he slaps his hands on Reed’s chest. “Just kidding, you are out of your depth.”

I can see Reed’s proud expression shoot to a concerned one that’s mixed with annoyance at Johnny’s words. I couldn’t help the chortle that left my nose at the interaction.

Johnny shifts close to me, embracing me and Ben. I give his chest a gentle swat for treating poor Reed like that, yet I know it’s all out of brotherly love.

“And we are going to be the best uncles ever.”

I shoot Johnny a sharp side-eye, jabbing his side with my elbow, causing him to let out an involuntary noise.

“And aunt.”

I hesitate a moment before reaching my gloved hand up to the middle of his shoulder blades, giving his warm skin a gentle rub as his proud expression turns near blank as he blinks. He was still processing it—I can tell. The way his lips pressed into a thin line and his brows creased in near worry.

“Okay, let’s eat.”

I watch him closely as he disconnects himself from us and sits down at the table. My smile fades for a moment before Sue turns back to me, taking my gloved hands in hers. I tense at the contact but do my best to tear my attention away from Johnny.

“I can’t believe this, Sue!” I gasp, doing my best not to show my emotions. I focus on my lower lip—not trembling. Good.

“There’s so much to do. Oh! I’ve got to draft an announcement. Make sure all of the sponsors know about the great news. Goodness! I also got a tiramisu—let me call the owner, I know her number. You can’t have raw eggs.”

The words shoot out of my mouth faster than I can catch them. My worries and excitement are spinning with so many possibilities.

Sue squeezes my hands. “Let’s focus on dinner, okay?”

Her warm laughter rings in my chest. The sound makes my frozen heart nearly vibrate with newly found fondness. As if my love for this family couldn’t get any stronger—here I was, about to be a first-time aunt.

I take my seat back down next to Johnny.

Throughout the whole dinner, I kept stealing glances from my peripheral. I notice he can barely touch his food—only taking small bites or sipping his water. That wasn’t like him.

As dinner wraps up and the others leave the table to celebrate with their slices of cake and a show, I can’t help but turn toward Johnny.

My hand instinctively goes to his shoulder, squeezing ever so gently.

“Hey… You okay?” I ask softly, coaxing him back to reality.

His gaze seems far away.

When he finally snaps back at my second squeeze, his blue eyes connect to mine. And there it is—the emotion he’s been brewing.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just… just processing it,” he croaks.

I felt my concern soften the tension in my features.

“Oh, Johnny,” I whisper, rubbing the back of his shoulder with my hand, offering my warmest smile.

“You’re going to be the best uncle ever. Just like you said.” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “It’s okay to be scared. Excited. Hell, even worried. We’re all in this together.”

He tears his gaze from me and dips his head, nodding. He plants his hand on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

The affection causes the breath in my chest to freeze.

“Yeah, I know. I just… I know how hard they’ve been trying. With how many times they've been disappointed… and for it to be so real now… I just can’t believe it.” His voice cracks slightly at the end. “I’m gonna be an uncle,” he laughs softly.

Tears are gathering on his waterline as he says it. His free hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose and rub his eyelids harshly with his fingertips.

I can’t help the chortle that escapes me, even as my lower lip trembles in empathy. I hear myself sniffle before I can control my next action—pulling him into a half-embrace.

“The damn best one there is, too,” I whisper, bringing my cold hand to the nape of his neck and giving it a gentle squeeze. I perch my chin on his shoulder.

“Thanks, Princess,” he murmurs into my hair, using his arm to wrap around me and hold me close to his warm body.

I knew he needed this hug. I just don’t think he knew how much I needed this embrace as well.

I softly smile. “I’ve upgraded from Ice Princess to Princess? Wow. Look at you—already maturing into an uncle,” I tease, carefully leaning back but keeping my grip on the back of his neck.

Johnny tilts his head back with a snicker, leaving his handsome, lopsided grin.

“Don’t act like you’re not obsessed with me now that I’ve upgraded you.”

I roll my eyes and push him away playfully in hopes of hiding the new color creeping up my neck. I reach for the tiramisu, scooping Johnny a slice and placing it on the smaller plate beside his untouched dinner.

“This uncle thing’s already making me wiser… scary, right?”

I can’t help the laughter that bursts from my chest at his sudden revelry. His eyes crinkle with amusement at finding his 

I nod my head. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that!” I laugh.

Leaning back in my chair, I watch Johnny with a new warmth in my gaze—one granted by his embrace.

I watch him devour the tiramisu I placed on his plate.

There he was. Back to Johnny.

[soullesscoffee]

already at 16k words for chapter one of cosmic feelings. i'm not even through the dinner scene of first steps.

is this too much? hahahaha...

writing this character makes my heart so happy and feel the warmth of the family. i just don't want it to be too much!!

EDIT: IDK WHERE THE HELL 16k came from but chapter one is up now!!

[soullesscoffee]

saw someone on tiktok have the same concept and same fc im using for this johnny fic.

i am now in distraught if i should even continue writing. it might be a totally different story and totally different vibe. but when its the same damn thing (powers and fc). 🥲 idk what to do. granted an ice user isn’t original to a fire character. and that fc is very popular…

guys i’m having a menty b 😂 should i just keep writing it? i think im freaking out a bit too much.

[soullesscoffee]

cosmic feelings.

"come on everybody! squeeze in!"

the flash flickers, temporarily blind the astronauts.

"you too, come in here. you're a part of this journey too. don't be camera shy, now."

i still remember stepping in with the four astronauts —wedged between reed and sue— their embrace giving me just enough confidence to remain and smile for the camera.

i give my best smirk to the lens as the assistant aims the body at us.

"everybody say space exploration!"

"SPACE EXPLORATION!"

then there was a bright flash.

i still see that flash in my dreams.

the final, normal blinking of the lens.

the last normal photo of all of us.

chapter one available now!!

[soullesscoffee]

cosmic feelings.

"what journalist is brave enough to go to space?" "you clearly haven't met her."

chapter one available now!!

[soullesscoffee]

this blog hates donald trump

Look how many people hate him. I’m pretty damn happy about that 😁😁😁😁😁😁

[soullesscoffee]

any requests for my arcane lovers?

the arcane women are just god tier...

⋆𐙚₊˚ fluff prompts!

lazy mornings: waking up tangled together in bed, sunlight streaming through the window! neither wants to move, so the two of them stay wrapped up in each other’s arms, sharing quiet whispers and lazy kisses while the world outside keeps turning

movie night: cuddling up on the couch, sharing a blanket and a bowl of popcorn. as the movie plays, one slowly starts to doze off, head resting on the other’s shoulder, who can’t help but smile at how adorable they look when they’re sleepy

dancing in the kitchen: a favorite song comes on, prompting a spontaneous dance around the kitchen while cooking. it’s clumsy and silly, with plenty of laughter and twirls, ending with a sweet kiss before returning to the food

handwritten notes: leaving little notes for each other around the house - inside a book, on the fridge, tucked under a pillow. each message is simple but heartfelt, like “i miss you” or “thinking of you,” bringing a smile whenever one is found

stargazing: lying on a blanket under the night sky, pointing out constellations and making up stories about the stars. as the night goes on, the comfortable silence grows, with soft smiles and fingers lightly brushing together, just enjoying the peaceful closeness of the moment