foxesofwonderland

[foxesofwonderland]

I second that. Pretty Please with sprinkles on top.

please?

[foxesofwonderland]

In love.❤️

johnny & bob

made by raychelwho on insta ✨

[foxesofwonderland]

It Sure.

[foxesofwonderland]

You'd be absolutely correct. Especially when you can see his nipple threw that white shirt. Not to mention his cute little peach.

[foxesofwonderland]

My Baby Stiles.

Season 3, Episode 12 "Lunar Ellipse" TEEN WOLF (2011–2017)

[foxesofwonderland]

writing letters to sam while he’s away

and he comes back with his pockets stuffed full of them 🤧

My Name’s the One Hidden in There Somewhere

sam o’brien (warfare) x fem!reader

word count: 5.8k+

summary: after a tour that seemed to be way too long— you finally reunite with sam.

warnings: no smut this time babes— mentions of wounds, injuries, starts with a hospital stay. some groping, & a lot of kissing. sammy boy has some trouble with his leg now. he really likes titties tho

notes: **my friends and I have dubbed Sam’s last name O’Brien, run with that if you’d like** | Nervous to post this one with the anons myself and my friends have received over Warfare! But hey babes, thinking of adding sam to my list of characters i’m writing permanently! (: my anon is off, so if you wanna send hate for this, say it with your chest dudes. We aren’t shooting for accuracy in this, just what’s gonna hit me in the chest with a brick. Also, as always— big thank you to @peachyproserpina and @reformedkingsmanagent for reading this over for me! Enjoy!

There’s a quiet hum to the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead— almost indiscernible from the chattering in the hall all of which was a stark contrast to the quiet rustle of that worn in paper in Sam’s hands. He’s hunched over in that narrow medical cot, his leg propped up with thick bandages wrapped tightly around his thigh. The ache is a constant companion, sharp and unforgiving, but he’s learned to tune it out. Mostly. He thanks God that he’s the only one in the room. 

He unfolds that worn in, creased piece of paper. One of many you’ve sent him over the past few months. His fingers have traced your familiar handwriting so many times he thinks he knows your signature by heart. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he scans the letter, despite the pain he’s in. Your words are permanently etched into his mind— he knows that he could recite every line if he really wanted to— but reading them over, touching the same ink and paper you had your hands on, feels like he’s giving himself something to keep trying for. Something good. 

A nurse walks by, offering him a small nod as she passes, she asks if he needs anything. But Sam pays her no mind. He’s in his head, far from here— he’s sitting on that old, threadbare couch you two had gotten from a consignment store when you moved into your first apartment together. Whiskey, your very blonde, very happy, golden retriever baby girl, sprawled out on his lap. He’s listening to your laughter ringing through the living room at some dumb comic printed in the morning paper. You’d written about that day in your latest letter. It was one of his favorite memories. You had tucked a polaroid into the envelope with that letter of Whiskey with her tongue hanging out. Sitting in the sunlight streaming in from the window, blissfully unaware of anything happening to him beyond those walls. 

He glances down at the bottom of the letter, where you’ve drawn a little calendar with a countdown. Fifteen days. Yesterday, it was sixteen. Tomorrow, it’ll be fourteen. You had sent this one the minute you’d gotten the word he was in the hospital. And the thought alone of going home so soon makes his chest feel a little lighter. He’s gotta make it through fifteen days. Just fifteen more until he’s back home with you and with Whiskey. Fifteen more and he’d be sleeping in his bed, his arm draped around your middle and he’s determined to be ready.

He’s spent countless Christmas’, countless Easter’s, and countless summer barbecues at your parents and he’s hated every minute of it— having to listen to fight after fight break out over potato salad or the desserts not coming out properly, but he swears even all of that can’t even hold a candle to relearning how to walk. It’s embarrassing, it’s been the hardest thing he’s ever done. The pain doesn’t just throb when he stands— it claws up his leg and sinks into his fucking bones. Yet every morning, he swings his legs over the edge of his cot. His eyes linger out the window, watching the clouds as they pass by, and he plants his good foot on the ground. He braces himself and he sure as shit doesn’t let himself think about the day his life was almost taken from him. He doesn’t let himself dwell on the feeling of dirt and blood seeping in and from his wound. He can’t focus on the way everything seemed to blur at the edges. Instead, he counts— the steps he takes. The feet from the bed to the door. The days left until he can hold you again. Every step he takes forward means one less second he spends stuck in this God forsaken place.

When he comes back to Earth, the nurse— whose name tag says Abby— smiles at him again. “Can I get you anything?” she asks softly, her eyes glancing at the screens in his room. Sam just gives his head a little shake and folds the letter carefully. Trying not to rip the seams anymore than he had already— and he’s slipping it into the pocket of his duffel, where dozens more are crammed. Each one a moment in time. A sacred memory— a lifeline. He doesn’t care how worn they get or how many times he sees you scribble out I love you onto the page. He’ll treasure each one. They’re pieces of you, of the home he so desperately wants to be back in, and he needs those letters more than he needs air some days.

He looks at his duffel as Abby leaves the room. Exhaling slowly, he’s trying to loosen the tension knotted in his shoulders. He reaches over and pulls another letter from his duffel, careful with the worn paper. It’s a little older, one of the first ones you sent. Your handwriting is smudged in places, and he knows it’s from his own fingers tracing the words too many times. He doesn’t care. Every letter you’ve written to him is what has kept him going. They’re a reminder that you’re waiting for him back at home. 

Fifteen more days. It feels like an eternity. But he’s survived this long— he can fortunately survive a few more weeks. It’s just the waiting that kills him. The waiting for you. He’s stuck in this room most hours of the day. There are more than enough quiet stretches of time where his mind wanders to dark places he wishes it wouldn’t. He tries to keep himself busy, pushing through the pain during physical therapy. He keeps forcing his leg to try to work the way it’s supposed to. Some days, it’s a losing battle. Other days, he feels almost like the man he was before.

He takes one long look at the page in his hands, and again he folds this letter and slips it back into the duffel. He’s patting the pocket for good measure, a small smile on his face. A few of the guys wander past his room, one of them waving when he catches Sam’s eye. Sam lifts a hand in response, and he’s glad they didn’t stop— he’s too distracted for conversation right now.

After a moment, he pushes himself to his feet, wincing as his leg shoots a pain up his spine in protest. He grits his teeth, letting out a breath, and he takes a few careful steps. He’s determined to make it across the room without using the crutches propped against the wall. His physical therapist said he was making progress, but it never felt like it. It feels like his body is fighting him every step of the way. “Come on, Sam,” he sighs to himself, jaw clenched. “Get it together, fuck.” One step, then another. He’s trembling. He knows it’s not a pretty sight, and his gait is more of a limp now than a stride, but he’s doing it. He’s getting better for himself, for you. He thinks of you waiting for him back home. How you’d probably sat in the corner of the couch to write all of your letters, the knitted orange throw you just had to have pulled over your lap. Whiskey would be tucked up against your side. He thinks of your smile, your laugh as you’d read the letters he wrote back. They came few and far between. He even thinks of the way you’d roll your eyes when he was home and said something dumb just to make you laugh. He pushes forward, fueled by the thought of wrapping you up in his arms the moment he sees you. When he makes it to the window, he braces a hand against the sill, the other settling down on the bandages of his thigh. He lets out a shaky sigh, breathing through the ache in his leg. Outside, the sun is setting, casting the hospital in hues of orange and pink. He wonders what it looks like at home, if you’re watching the same sky.

Fifteen days. He can make it fifteen more days.

When Abby returns to check on him, Sam is still staring out the window. He’s leaning on the sill and wall more than he had intended. His fingers are brushing the locket he wears under his shirt these days. The one you so diligently packed away in his backpack. Abby offers him a gentle smile, not saying a word, just giving him space. She brings a chair over for him. Sam turns his head to smile at her thankfully. He sits, his gaze refocusing out of the window. He doesn’t really notice her leave the room this time— he’s too caught up in thoughts of the sky, of you, of being back home. Hell, he even thinks of Whiskey curled up between the two of you in your full size bed. That’s the first thing that’s gotta go— you two need at least a queen.

That fifteenth day comes quicker than Sam expects. He had been counting down so damn long that the reality of it feels almost like it’s some sick twisted dream. That he’ll be back to his first day back in the hospital. That he’d imagined this entire wait. His hands are a little shaky as he finishes tossing another t-shirt in and zipping up his duffel— making sure everything is tucked in just right. He straightens his back, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. His leg pulsing with an ache he just wills himself to ignore. 

The quiet knock on the door pulls him from his thoughts. Erik pokes his head in, flashing a grin. “You ready, Sam? Bus leaves in ten.”

Sam just nods, adjusting the strap of his duffel bag. “Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be. Just making sure I didn’t forget anything here.”

Erik steps inside, giving him a once-over, head to toe. “You look like you’re about to shit yourself, man. You sure you’re good?”

“Yeah, just… nervous.” Sam rubs the back of his neck and lets out a sigh, he’s trying to play it cool and anyone close to him would know it’s just a façade. “It’s been a while since I’ve been home.”

Erik smiles a bit, giving him a light slap on the shoulder. It’s reassuring. A tap that shows just how much he cares for him. “Ain’t that the truth. You’ll be fine, though— yeah? Your girl’ll probably tackle you the second you step off the plane. I’ll have to be standing there to catch you two before you eat shit.”

Sam can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips and the laugh that tumbles out. “Yeah… I… I really wouldn’t put it past her.”

He slings the duffel over his shoulder and a few crumpled pieces of paper poke out of the side pocket. Erik catches sight of them and he lifts a brow. “What’s all that in there?”

Sam freezes for a second, and then shrugs, looking a little sheepish. A faint blush creeping up his neck and settling into his cheeks. “They’re just letters.”

“From home?” Erik asks softly. 

“Yeah.” Sam pulls one out, fingers brushing over the familiar handwriting. Your handwriting. He’s careful not to unfold it, he knows this letter by the little heart on the front— some things aren’t meant to be shared and this was one of them. “She sent ‘em every week. Sometimes more. Just… they kept me together, you know? Got to look forward to hearing about her life back at home every week.”

Erik’s eyes soften. “Damn, O’Brien. That’s… that’s really fucking sweet. You’re a sap.”

Sam scoffs, trying to hide how much the letters mean to him exactly. “Yeah… well. They really helped. Especially when things got rough… Especially in here.” He takes a look around the room before he shoves the letter back in the bag, making sure it’s secure. “I just… couldn’t bring myself to throw any of ‘em out.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to, man.” Erik smirks. “She must be one hell of a girl to put up with your cranky ass this long.”

Sam laughs again, “It’s been ten years. You have no idea. I don’t deserve her, but… shit, I’m so fucking lucky.”

Erik claps him on the back again, this time a little gentler. Putting his love into it. “You better get moving, lover boy. The plane’s not gonna wait and something tells me, she’s gonna hunt you and I both down if you miss it.”

Sam nods, giving the room one last look. It feels strange to be leaving after having spent so long here. But there’s no hesitation when he grabs his duffel bag and follows Erik out. As they make their way down the hall, Sam keeps his fingers loosely wrapped around the strap, right where the letters are tucked.

And you find yourself at the airport, it’s buzzing with chatter. There’s a mix of anxious energy and barely contained excitement from those around you. You’re surrounded by families; children, spouses, and life partners. Some are holding signs and others clutching flowers but they’re all waiting for the same thing— the sight of someone they’ve been missing for far too long. You’re standing towards the back of the crowd, bouncing on your toes. Your fingers come up to fiddle with the locket that’s never left your neck (not since Sam had given it to you all those years ago). Every time someone moves near the gate, your heart lurches forward— beating nearly out of your chest. Then, finally, the first few soldiers step through the doors, and the whole place erupts. People are crying, shouting names you can only vaguely recognize, bodies are running into open arms. Your own eyes scan the crowd desperately, searching for one familiar face, for your guy, and then— There he is.

Sam.

He looks tired, thinner than you remember him. Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes land on you. For a brief second, it’s like the whole world slows down. It’s only the two of you. There’s no loved ones crying, no hugs shared. It’s just the sight of Sam right in front of you. Then he’s moving closer, limping just a little bit as he's pushing through the crowd with single-minded determination. He has to get to you. 

You don’t even have to think— your feet move on their own accord. And suddenly you’re running to meet him halfway. You collide with his chest, almost knocking him over in the process. His arms wrap around your waist, squeezing tight enough to steal your breath. You bury your face in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him— sweat, soap, the faintest hint of smoke clinging to that well loved hospital issued hoodie.

“Holy shit,” Sam mumbles, his lips pressed to your hair. A heavy hand leaving your waist to cradle the back of your head against him, “You’re fucking real. You’re actually here.”

You let out a sniffle, pulling back just enough to see his face through blurry eyes full of tears. Your hands move up from where they had been wrapped around his shoulders to cup his jaw. “You’re the one who looks like a fucking mirage. Are you sure you’re actually here?” He grins at that and leans in to kiss you— he’s soft at first, like he’s almost hesitant. Likes he’s not sure if this is all some twisted dream. And when he’s sure it’s not. That the weight under his hands is full and real— he’s moving, kissing you with hunger when you pull him closer. It’s messy and desperate. His hand still cradling your skull, his other had your hips pulled flush with his right in the middle of the gate. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You’ve waited too damn long for this.

Someone nearby clears their throat— Erik, maybe? He’s giving Sam a teasing shove on the shoulder. “Save it for later, O’Brien. We’ve got a whole welcome wagon here.” and Sam flips him off without even looking his way. He’s still smiling against your mouth, he can’t bring himself to pull away. You laugh. Your own hands sliding from his jaw to the back of his neck, tugging him in for one more kiss. When you pull away, you reluctantly step back to give him space. He keeps one arm wrapped around your waist, though, like he’s scared he’ll wake up and this will all be the dream he was dreading if he lets go. And once the initial chaos of families reuniting dies down, the two of you manage to make your way to your car. Sam leaning on you the entire way just enough to ease the strain on his leg.

“I would’ve brought a damn wheelchair if I knew you’d be this stubborn,” you tease as you open the passenger door, letting him sink down into the seat. 

He scoffs, turning at the waist to drop his bag into the back. You smile at the letters peeking their way out of the side pocket, well worn and well loved. “No way. I’m not letting my girl push me around like a geriatric patient. I’m good, babe. Swear.”

You roll your eyes at the way he tries to ease your mind, but there’s a warmth blooming deep in your chest. He’s still your Sam— stubborn as hell, but yours. The drive home is a quiet one, both of you soaking in the silence. You're just happy to be in the same space again. You steal glances at him at each red light, noticing the way his shoulders relax more and more the closer you get to home. And when you finally pull into the driveway, Sam huffs out a relieved laugh. His eyes are just scanning over the front of the little brick home you two had bought. It’d been almost three years since then. “Goddamn. Never thought I’d be so happy to see this place again.”

You round the car and help him out of the passenger seat, ignoring his muttered protests. Swinging his duffel over your shoulder, you shoot him a wink as you walk up the sidewalk to unlock the front door. As soon as it swings open, you hear a ruffle and the tap tap tap of nails on hardwood. Whiskey jumps from her spot on the couch and lunges towards the door at the familiar smell. She’s practically launching herself at Sam.

“Oh, shit— hey, baby!” Sam drops to one knee, wincing slightly. But he’s burying his hands in the fur near Whiskey’s collar, as the dog whines and licks his face like she’s trying to make up for lost time. Sam laughs, his eyes crinkling as he smiles so fucking big. Hems scratching behind Whiskey’s ears. “Damn, I missed you too. You still slobber like a damn faucet.”

You turn to let the front door click shut, smiling. Then you’re reaching down to take your shoes off and place them on the rack next to the door. “See? She didn’t forget you. You had nothing to worry about. Maybe I should’ve warned you about the ambush though, been telling her daddy’s coming home for days now.”

Sam grins up at you, looking happier than he has in months. He is happier. He’s home with his girl, with their family— “It’s fine. Better than any welcome home I could’ve imagined.”

You can’t help but laugh as you watch Sam and Whiskey, you lean back against the stained glass window of the front door with your arms crossed. “I can see she’s your favorite now.” you let out a dramatic sigh. “I should probably go pack up my stuff and make room for hers in the closet.”

Sam rolls his eyes, pushing Whiskey’s face away with a gentle hand on her snout as she tries to lick into his mouth. “You’re just jealous ‘cause she likes me more than you.” He glances up at you, eyes twinkling as that age old joke— of Whiskey’s favorite parent— between the two of you hangs back in the air. You missed it. “Besides, babe. She didn’t write me any love letters or send me nudes. You’ve got the edge.”

“Oh, wow, what an honor,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes. “I can’t believe I managed to beat a dog in the battle for your affection. Truly a victory.” 

Sam grins, finally managing to stand again. He’s shaky and you notice the way his leg trembles. He catches you looking and he puts on a soft smile, wiping his hands on the thighs of dark wash denim. “I’m good,” he mumbles, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You hum, stepping closer to him until your hands slide over his shoulders. “You know…” You start to speak, your finger brushing over his chest. “If you need help getting to the couch, I might be able to make room in my busy schedule.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he laughs but there’s no bite to it. He’s pulling you against him. Hips to hips. Flush. You can feel every twitch of his muscles . “I’ve been walking on my own for weeks now. I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

“Oh, you’re definitely getting babied, Sam,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek. But you linger there, letting out a gentle sigh. “You don’t get a choice in the matter. I haven’t seen you in months, you almost got yourself killed, just… let it happen.”

Sam’s hands find your waist again, his eyes scanning over your face as you pull back to meet his gaze. And just as you go to open your mouth again, he’s kissing you— it’s longer this time, a little rougher than you anticipated. He’s kissing you like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it. When he pulls back, his lips curve into that crooked smile you fell in love with almost a decade ago, a little chipped tooth he’s never bothered to fix (because you thought it was cute). “God… I really missed kissing you. You’ve got no idea how many times I just sat there in that fucking hospital, thinking, ‘Fuck, I’d kill for just one kiss right now.’”

You smile at his words, brushing your fingers over the velvety expanse of Sam’s buzzed hair. “Yeah?” You start, a little giggle pulling its way from your chest, “Bet you sweet-talked that picture I sent then too, huh?”

Sam lets out a laugh, unashamed. His eyes were twinkling as his hands rub up and down your back. “Damn right I did. When a guy’s got one picture in the spank bank to get him through a shitstorm, he’s gotta make it count.”

You roll your eyes, your face feeling hotter than usual, but your smile doesn’t falter one bit. “You seriously kept that thing on you the whole time? It wasn’t even the best one.”

But then his hands are leaving you and he’s reaching into his jacket, pulling that stupid little folded up polaroid out from his inside pocket. He’s turning his eyes towards you, holding it up between his index and middle fingers with a lopsided grin. The edges are worn, the colors faded from being unfolded and refolded too many times, the folds were starting to rip a bit… but you could clearly see your tits on display. “What can I say?” He almost giggles, “Kept it close to the heart. Got me through a lot of long nights.”

You tug it from his fingers, turning it towards you as you unfold it carefully under his gaze. You examine it with a smile, feeling that familiar heat crawl up your spine. “Looks like it’s been through hell.” You say softly. 

Sam shrugs, tilting your head up with a finger under your chin. He’s leaning back in to nip at your bottom lip. “Yeah, well… so have I. At least I came back in one piece.” At those words, your hands slide around his shoulders. One hand rests against the nape of his neck, and he groans when you squeeze there just a little. You remember when Sam’s hair was just a bit longer, when you could tug on it and elicit the same noises. You’re deepening the kiss, tilting your head to slot against his lips more comfortably. He pulls you flush against him once more, his hands firm on your hips. He was holding you like he was trying to make up for every single second of time lost. His lips trail down your jaw to your neck, peppering small kisses as his eyelashes tickle against your cheek, and you can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes. “Christ, I really fucking missed you,” he mutters against the skin of your neck, his voice rough, completely love drunk.

“I can tell,” you tease him, your hands sliding from his shoulders to press against his chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart against your fingers, and it puts a smile on your face. “You’re acting like you’ve never kissed me before.”

“Feels like I haven’t,” he admits softly, his kisses trail back up your neck and he nips at your earlobe. “Gonna take me a while to make up how much I’ve missed you. Hope you don’t have anywhere to be, baby.”

“Nowhere that’s more important than this,” you admit. And you mean it. You’re pulling him back to kiss you again— it’s slower this time. His lips are softer than you remember. He’s taking his time relearning every curve of your mouth. Every single touch of his hands against your skin sends your head in a spiral. And he doesn’t stop trying to get reacquainted with your kiss, your body, until his leg starts to give out. He’s pulling away and hissing out softly, the pain flashing across his face. You immediately steady him, slipping an arm around his waist. “Hey… You okay?” 

“Fuck,” he sighs; half annoyed and half embarrassed. “Leg’s being a little bit of a bitch today.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re acting like you didn’t just get off a six hour flight after months of, you know, not walking,” you quip, playfully glaring at him. And then you’re guiding him to the couch.

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a loving smile on his face as he sinks down onto those familiar cushions. It’s his spot. Whiskey’s blanket curled up on the opposite corner. “You gonna lecture me, or kiss me again?” He tilts his head a bit to look at you, that little lopsided grin reappearing. 

You sit beside him, nudging his shoulder. “Can’t I do both?”

He smirks, reaching out to pull you closer. “I’d rather the latter.”

And when he kisses you this time, his hand cradles your jaw. He’s slower now, more deliberate with his touching, with his lips— you know he’s trying to make sure you know just how much he missed you. Your hand splays across the chest of that hoodie and you can feel his heartbeat gradually picking up under the fabric. And for the first time since he walked off that plane, it really sinks in. He’s fucking home. He’s safe. He’s right where he belongs. Sam leans back against the couch, his hand dropping from your jaw to your waist. And he’s pulling you back with him until you’re straddling his lap. His hands find their home on your hips once more. He’s got a little smile on his face as you pull back, “What?” you ask, arching your eyebrow up.

“I just… can’t believe you’re real,” he says, his hands sliding from your waist up your sides. “Swear to God, I thought I was dreaming when I saw you at the airport. Been so fucking long. Almost lost my shit when I realized it wasn’t some fucked-up hallucination.”

You laugh, eyes glinting under the lamp light next to you. You’re tracing your fingers along his stubbled jawline. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, it definitely fucking is,” he chuckles, leaning up to kiss you again. Now he’s rougher, kissing you deeper. Slotting his lips against yours. His hands slide under your shirt, warm and calloused against your soft skin. You can feel his fingertips twitch slightly— like he’s still not convinced you’re really here. You pull back just enough to straighten your back, gripping the hem to tug your shirt up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor behind you. Thank God you decided on no bra today. Sam’s eyes widen, and he sucks in a breath, making you feel a faint heat creeping up from your chest and you laugh— almost embarrassed.

“Holy shit,” he deadpans, eyes fixed on your bare skin— the way your nipples pebble up under the cool air. “It’s been so fucking long since I’ve seen boobs in person, I think I might cry.”

You laugh, swatting at his shoulder. “You’re such a loser.”

He grins, running his hands up your sides and a hand settles right over your left breast. He squeezes gently as he leans in to brush his lips over your collarbone. “I’m so serious, babe. Thought I’d forgotten what they looked like. Damn near threw a party for myself when I saw that picture.” You’re still laughing when his kisses trail up your neck from your collarbone. Each of the kisses, a little softer than the one before. He squeezes again, kneading your breast gently. His thumb tracing slow circles along the underside, his index finger brushing over your nipple. He’s so warm against you— his chest radiating heat and you want that hoodie off. When he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes hooded and his smile hazy… his expression is softer than before. “You’re even prettier than I remembered,” his voice is low, like that was a secret he never had meant to admit. 

“Yeah?” you tease, brushing your fingers over the chest of his hoodie. You ruck up the bottom, if you’re topless— he can be topless too. But he doesn’t move to make it any easier to pull off. “You sure you didn’t just forget what I looked like? Stared at my boobs too long instead?” 

“Oh, fuck off,” he laughs, but the words aren’t convincing. He kisses your shoulder, then the dip just above your collarbone. “No way I’d forget what you look like. But shit, it’s better in person. Way fucking better.” You kiss him again, your fingers curling against the fabric of the hoodie that is still on. He hums against your mouth, hands sliding back from your breasts to your back. He’s kissing you like he’s got all the time in the world and every time he pulls away, it’s just long enough to catch his breath before diving back in. He brings one of his hands between your bodies to start working it into your  sweat pants. His other hand sliding down to settle on your ass. Whiskey wanders over, sniffing at Sam’s leg and nudging his hand. Sam pulls back from the kiss, groaning. “Whiskey,” he mutters, looking down at the retriever, who just wags her tail. “Come on, baby. Give us a minute.”

You let out a giggle, bringing your hand away from his chest to give Whiskey a pat on her head. You use the back of your hand to gently nudge her away. And Sam waits until she pads off up the stairs. You turn back to him, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “Good girl,” he calls up the stairs after her before he’s focusing on you again. “Now, where were we?” You don’t get a chance to respond to the question before he’s kissing you again. He’s truly kissing the air out of your lungs. His hands find your ass, squeezing as he pulls you as close as he possibly can. He’s relaxing under your touch. He breaks the kiss again just to look at you, and he’s grinning like an idiot. You’d be annoyed if he wasn’t so pretty. “You know, I was worried I’d be too fucking broken to fuck you like I ought to. But right now, I’m thinking I’m in pretty good shape.”

That pulls a laugh from deep in your belly. You’re moving your hand from his chest to cradle his cheek, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone gently. “I didn’t expect sex this soon, sweetheart.”

He scoffs rolling his eyes as he presses his forehead to yours. “Are you fucking kidding? I’ve been thinking about you non-stop. If I can’t handle sex, I might as well turn in my man card.” You laugh, shaking your head as you lean back into a kiss. Your hands still on his face, his still on your ass. He squeezes the flesh through the fabric of your sweats and he pulls you closer, shifting your position in his lap. He winces and draws in a sharp breath. Immediately you pull back, concern washing over your face.

“Sam,” you say softly— grabbing his attention, “are you okay?”

He takes a shaky breath. That bone clawing pain rushing up his spine. So he forced a smile. “Yeah, just… fuck, leg’s acting up.”

You slide off his lap, moving to stand next to the sofa. You help him lie back against the couch cushions— his head resting against a pillow propped against the couch arm. “Maybe we take a break, yeah? We’ve got plenty of time. You don’t have to push yourself.”

He lets out a laugh, sighing as he shakes his head. “I’m not pushing anything, babe. Just… forgot for a second that my leg’s a pain in the ass.” He pats the sliver of space beside him. “C’mere. I… I just wanna hold you for a bit.” So you squeeze in next to him. Your head settling on his bicep as you curl into his side. Reaching behind the two of you, he grabs that orange knit blanket and drapes it over your bodies. And then he wraps his other arm around you, sandwiching you in. He kisses the top of your head, letting out a contented sigh. “I missed this,” he whispers, his fingers tracing little circles? no, hearts— on your arm. “I missed you.”

You relax against him, letting out a breath. You could feel your heart finally slowing to a steady beat to match the one in his own chest. He’s home. And right now, it’s enough just to be wrapped up in each other’s arms. It’s enough to be sharing soft kisses and whispered jokes right here on your sofa. It’s enough to be letting the world outside your little bubble fade away.

tags ;;

[foxesofwonderland]

🤤🥵

[foxesofwonderland]

I'm so excited to see johnny in first steps i can't wait

[foxesofwonderland]

[foxesofwonderland]

joseph quinn as eddie munson bts, you’ll always be famous

[foxesofwonderland]

I mean.. too Cute.

HUZZAH a little late valentines drawing, but it is here now nonetheless

I tried to write a variation of ‘happy valentines’ or ‘hot stuff’ like 8 times but gave up because of my bad handwriting XD please, just pretend it’s there lol

[foxesofwonderland]

Adorable.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Don't think about Steve, who always goes all out with gifts and chocolates and flowers getting his own flowers for Valentine's from Eddie 🥰🩷

Even better if they're not dating 🤭

[foxesofwonderland]

I agree I thought of Fred Jones from the Scooby Doo movie as well. And I'm in love.

Sorry but I can’t not see it

[foxesofwonderland]

I second that.

he's perfect

[foxesofwonderland]

Fire & Ice 🔥🧊 | MCU!Johnny Storm Imagine

Link to my Marvel masterlist

Characters & Pairings: JosephQuinn!JohnnyStorm x enhanced!reader (romantic), the Fantastic Four (platonic), The Avengers (platonic).

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, mentions of canon violence and death, canon divergence, light angst | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 7K

Requested 📨 yes/no

Premise: Earth-616 is no stranger to the multiverse. Since the defeat of Thanos in 2023, the Avengers have had their fair share of visitors from other worlds and know what to expect when they do. But when a man wearing the same face of their late comrade arrives, the Avengers are in for the shock of their lives when a group of heroes tailing the individual fall through the portal behind him. And for the flying, fire-wielding, and sometimes charming Johnny Storm, he meets his match in the form of a woman whose power and reputation matches that of her cold, steel, heart.

Note: Happy 2025 everyone! To kick off the year I am gifting y'all this damn idea that's been stuck in my head the past two weeks. Now if you've been following my work since I started, then you know I was pumping out Marvel fics back in the day. Phase 1-4 of Marvel have my heart, and unfortunately the disappointment of Phase 5 (with few exceptions) had me lose interest. BUT if there was one thing I absolutely loved when I was a kid, it was the OG Fantastic Four movies with Chris Evans, Jessica Alba, etc. I watched those literally every day and before the Avengers/MCU I rolled hard with the FF, Blade, & X-Men (I've got another idea involving Deadpool & Wolverine cooking). So I have a lot of expectations for FF: First Steps especially because the MCU has had so many misses the last two years. I love Pedro Pascal, Vanessa Kirby, and Joseph Quinn, I haven't watched The Bear, but I've heard great things about Ebon Moss-Bachrach and I look forward to his and the rest of the cast's portrayal of the FF.

I've been a fan of JQ since 2022 because like majority of people I discovered him by his performance as Eddie in Stranger Things. I'll admit I haven't seen much of his filmography, but I did watch A Quiet Place: Day One and he was phenomenal. And don't get me started on Gladiator II. I was pleased to hear he'd be playing my first love Johnny Storm and I know he'll do amazing, not to mention he has said that he was a fan of the OG movies and Chris' version of the character. Whenever I hear an actor is a fan of the source material, I know they're going to deliver.

The movie hasn't come out, neither has the trailer, so I don't have much to work with. But we know that FF:FS is following the origin story of the FF and will feature the Silver Surfer. AND it's rumored to be where RDJ's Doctor Doom will debut, setting up Avengers: Doomsday and he will be the big villain of the MCU. This obviously is diverging from canon and pretty much an AU story, remember that please. SO here's my treat to my fellow Johnny Storm lovers to feed y'all since we still got months until FF:FS. Enjoy.

----------------------

The blinding light of the sun peaking through the curtains pulled Johnny from his sleep before the alarm was set to go off. Had it been any other day he’d be upset. Wishing nothing more than to curl into the comforter and get the extra minutes of sleep. But thankfully it was Sunday--the day reserved for rest. No agenda. No training. No missions. Completely free and dedicated to recoupling after a week filled with non-stop action. 

And if there was anyone who would be displeased at waking up earlier than needed, it was the woman lying beside him. Fast asleep on her back with one hand curled beneath the pillow and the other clasping his on her chest. Body cooler than the average person, which made the atmosphere of the room comfortable considering Johnny’s was hotter than the average citizen. Figuratively and literally. 

Johnny smiled, happily tucking himself further into her space, chin leaning on her shoulder as he snuggled against her side. Allowing his eyes to flutter close and accept the slumber his body itched to claim. The fresh scent of shea butter from her shampoo and body wash filled his nostrils, and he sighed in content. 

This was what life was worth living.

But just when Johnny welcomed the darkness, the annoying, blazing sound of their alarm clock echoed against the walls, disturbing the peaceful moment and making him flinch and groan. “Dammit,” he rolled onto his back, arm reaching to slap at the air until his fingers grasped the device. Snoozing it asleep with a press of a button. 

Now he was fully awake.

Flinging himself back onto the mattress, he felt her body shift before letting out a soft chuckle, “Had you turned it off when you first woke, you’d have spared yourself this torment.” Her voice was laced with tiredness, and Johnny turned his head to find her eyes still closed but clear amusement painting her visage by the smirk on her lips. 

Rolling his eyes, he moved to lay on his side and brought his arm around her waist, “Why didn’t you? Seeing as you were also awake.” 

“Too comfy.”

“Well, so was I,” he sassed, mouth hovering over her jaw before leaning down to kiss the skin, the coolness sending a chill along his spine. She hums, nuzzling into the touch, seeking it.

“The alarm is also on your side.”

Johnny smirks against her cheek, mischief coating his gaze, “you could’ve reached over me, you know. Saved us both the hassle.” His hand reached up to stoke her jaw, trailing to tangle his fingers in her hair. Soft and silky. He takes a moment to appreciate the beauty before him. From her thick eyelashes, to her lips. Her cheekbones and kissable lips. 

“Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you,” she challenged with no actual bite to her tone, one eye peeking open. “Me on top of you in the morning.” He didn’t even deny it, flashing a toothy smile

“Very much so.” 

Instead of replying, Y/n moved to push the man onto his back, throwing her leg over his waist to lay herself on top of him. Johnny’s hands immediately grabbed her, keeping her body pressed against his with one hand on her back and the other firmly on her hips. The heat radiating off his complexion clashed against the frostiness of hers. Two polar opposites coming together in an explosion of love and devotion. 

Johnny welcomed it with open arms, bringing her mouth to his in a tender kiss. Chuckling as she fought away while mumbling about morning breath to which he didn’t care. He kissed her like his life depended on it. Like they were the only two people in existence. For there was nothing sweeter on the planet than the taste of her lips on his. 

And thanks to the fire that consumed his veins, Johnny was spared from getting frostbite.

“Happy?” She asked while pulling away, but not getting far as Johnny cupped her jaw in his hand to keep her close. Kissing her once more after mumbling, “exceptionally.”

The tale of the Human Torch falling in love with the Ice Princess begins long ago, three years to be exact, when the Fantastic Four find themselves sitting across the table of Earth’s mightiest heroes, the Avengers. 

Everything leading up to the moment was still a blur to the young Johnny Storm. One moment he and his team, the Fantastic Four as they called themselves, were fighting the formidable Doctor Doom in their 60s-style futuristic Earth. And the next they are pulled into another universe while tailing the bastard to prevent him from bringing utter destruction to the world. It hadn’t even been five minutes and the Four were surrounded by armored trucks and individuals donning costumes similar to their own. 

“Hands where we can see them!”

“State your name and purpose!”

“Who are you and where did you come from!”

Johnny’s heart pounded against his chest. The anxiety piling up like a volcano ready to explode as he took in the scene before him. There were guns pointed at him and his friends. A man in a blue tunic and red cape with his hands raised in defense next to a young girl wearing a brown tunic. Another man in a red, white, and blue tactical suit with wings who landed in front of them. His shield reflecting off the light. Next to him was a man in a similar attire with wings but in grey. Then there was a woman in all purple, bow and arrow trained on the Four. A man with five golden rings on either wrist. A masked individual in a bright red and blue suit with spider webbing detail crouched on top of a car. And finally, a woman in a striking gray tactical ensemble stood closest to Johnny with a cold look in her eyes. 

Upon making a flame with his hands, ready to defend himself and his friends, Johnny watched her face shift to amusement. Raising her brow as though unimpressed by the trick, “Don’t even try, hotshot.” And without taking her eyes off his, her palm raised up to form an icicle in the shape of a dagger. Her other arm extended to show her skin turning completely into ice. 

Yeah, Johnny wasn’t sure if it was fear or arousal that consumed him. He often confused them at times. All he knows is there was a pretty woman before him with ice powers with cold eyes ready to strike him down with God knows what laid in store for him should he dare tempt her. 

But now wasn’t the time to flirt. There were more important matters at stake. Like the fact they were surrounded by highly advanced, highly enhanced, people with an army of soldiers at their command. In a place that looked like New York but lacked the 60s style he was accustomed to. 

“Cuff them and begin transport to HQ!”

“Find me Banner and clear this area at once!” 

The Four were at a loss. Outnumbered and confused, none able to process what the fuck was going on. They lost Doom. He was God knows where and they were not a match against these strangers. So they took their loss and compiled as they were restrained by agents.

“What the fuck is happening, Reed?” Johnny demanded, struggling against the cuffs on his arms and ankles. His power seemingly unable to melt the damn things which both intrigued and terrified him. 

“I don’t know?”

“Where are we?” said Sue from beside the genius, expression full of confusion and slight fear. The last thing she remembered was falling through a glowing yellow-orange light in the shape of a ring and the feeling of nausea hitting her full force. Giving her whiplash. 

But before anyone could answer, the blinding light of the sun hit them as the door whipped open and agents ushered them out of the vehicle. Clashes of voices, cameras flashing as news crews desperately tried to breach the barrier guards had formed and even a helicopter flying above. Johnny glanced up to take in the chaos, gaze falling onto the large building before him with a giant ‘A’ 

The Four are led to a large glass encased room, still cuffed, and ordered to sit and wait while armed guards post themselves outside. Expecting someone to come in and interrogate them, they take the moment to assess the area. Noting that the glass room sat perched above a large space, like a bullpen, where people were rushing to answer phones, type on computers, or stood watching the vast tv screens splayed on the wall. The news channels played footage of what transpired on the streets moments prior. The Four tense when they see an image of Doctor Doom, disappearing after falling from what appeared to be a portal in the sky. 

Just like they did. 

The sound of the glass door opening captured their attention, turning to find the man in the wingsuit and the woman in gray. Their body language showed they were on high alert, analyzing the Four for any potential threat, and they exchanged a look before the man set down his shield on a free chair while the woman placed a stack of files onto the table. 

“I’m Captain Sam Wilson, this is Agent Y/n L/n,” The man spoke first, cutting right to the chase, “You’re not from here, are you?”

“Here?” Reed repeated, perplexed.

“Earth-616,” Y/n answered, locking eyes with each of the Four, lingering on Johnny before falling onto Reed. “At first we suspected you’re with Hydra, or part of the team Fontaine has been cooking up. But ruled those possibilities out once we saw the footage of your friend who preceded you in the portal.”

The Four processed her words, unable to identify the names she spoke of. 

“Hydra?”

“We don’t know who this Fontaine person is, but we can assure you we’re not involved with them.”

“You saw Doom? We have to find him immediately!” 

“I’m sorry, did you say Earth-616?,’ Reed reeled back to her initial answer. Y/n crossed her arms over her chest with a nod.

“I did,” she then turned to Sam, lowering her voice but they were still able to hear everything, “This isn’t going to be easy, Cap. They obviously hadn’t discovered what we know and that makes them a liability.”

“We have no choice. Whoever traveled with them is still out there and they know what we’re up against. We need them.”

“And how exactly are we going to send them back to where they came from?”

“We’ll figure it out like we always do,” Sam’s tone grows stern, but Y/n holds her ground and doesn’t reveal any ounce of intimidation. “Strange and Banner can find something.”

Johnny, having had enough of them talking about them as though they weren’t right there, spoke up with annoyance, “Can you two please tell us what the fuck is going on? What do you mean “send us back where we came from,” and that we hadn’t discovered what you apparently know?”

Reed pitches in, “Sounds like you’re suggesting the theory of the multiverse is real and that we’ve somehow breached the gap between space, time, and reality and have fallen into a parallel universe,” the genius scoffs, gaze flicking between the two as though waiting for them to say, ‘Sike!’ only for his stomach to plummet in fear as he saw how serious they were. “Oh my God.”

Reed’s reaction to the implication was enough to cause the same in his friends. Sue’s face paled, Ben froze, and Johnny felt a sudden urge to throw up. They were in another universe.

 They watch as Y/n removes a device from her utility belt, stiffening as she points it at the man, a buzzing sound emitting from its speakers causing her brows to furrow and the man leaned over to read whatever it was on the screen. “You’re human, like us, and your DNA appears to be altered with enhanced biological traits.” Glancing up from the screen, her head tilts with suspicion, “but that’s not the interesting part…..your readings indicate you obtain multiversal particles.”

The revelation sent the Four into hysterics. All denying at first the inevitable truth, speaking over each other, struggling against their cuffs--which Sam removed once they calmed down. Reed was dealing with shock and excitement, for the scientific discovery was something he always theorized was true. Meanwhile the others were more fearful of what this meant for their world and the one they were in. 

For hours after the initial shock wore off, they stayed in that room until all information was exchanged between the groups. Sam infomed the Four they were at Avengers campus, headquarters for the Avengers. A team consisting of biologically or technologically enhanced individuals responsible for the safety and order of Earth-616 against domestic, international, and intergalactic threats.

“Well now we can add multiversal to the mix,” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, seemingly annoyed with having to deal with another damn enemy after they’d finally defeated an adversary not long ago.

Part of Johnny wanted to laugh at her irritation, but that probably would’ve made things worse on his end. So he kept his mouth shut. 

Sam and Y/n were soon joined by the man in the tunic, who introduced himself as Doctor Stephen Strange. A Master of the Mystic Arts who had experience traveling the multiverse, and had even met a variant of Reed years prior. 

He didn’t go into detail obviously of how that ended.

Not long later he was followed by a large man who’s physique rivaled Ben’s and was green. “Dr. Reed Richards, meet Dr. Bruce Banner,” Y/n did not look up from her tablet, full focus on the screen. “You two will surely get on well with figuring out what the fuck it is this Doctor Doom wants with our world.”

While they didn’t join the group, Sam explained who the other team members were that helped attain the Fantastic Four. Stephen’s protegee, America Chavez, who had the power to travel the multiverse--which had Reed’s eyes bulging from his head. He definitely wanted to have a conversation with her. There was Kate Bishop, the purple archer who trained under former Avenger, Clint Barton. Sam’s wingman, Joaquin Torres, and Shang-Chi, who possessed the Ten Rings. Lastly there was Peter Parker, the boy donning the red and blue webbed suit. 

They mentioned the Thunderbolts, another team of enhanced individuals who were more anti-heroes and had once been adversaries of the Avengers but are now allies. Then there was the Guardians of the Galaxy. A team of intergalactic heroes traveling space and protecting the galaxy from threats not on Earth. The Norse Gods of Asgard, now living on Earth. Shuri, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne, and the Marvels. Lastly, they touched on former Avengers. Ones who retired, like Barton, and the ones who perished. 

Finally, when things seemed to settle, Johnny decided to lift the mood by saying, “So do you guys have nicknames? Or like code for when you’re on missions?” Sue shot him a look that read, “For the love of God, Johnny.”

Y/n lifted her eyes from the tablet, giving him a once over, “Are you serious right now?”

“What?”

“Aye, take it easy, L/N,” Sam pitched in, waving a hand for emphasis. “Can’t blame the kid for being curious.” All he receives is a mock scoff. 

“Okay, Captain America.”

Johnny’s ears perked up as he looked at Sam with interest. Boyish grin plastered on his face, “You’re called Captain America? That’s really cool.” He motions toward the suit and shield, “Should’ve guessed as much though with the colors of your suit and stars.”  

“I used to be the Falcon, but Torres has taken on that mantle. Strange is just strange,” Y/n snickered under her breath, causing Johnny to bite back a smile. “We call America, Miss America.”

Ben nods his head in approval, “fitting.”

Sam continued listing off the aliases of the team, finally coming to Y/n who narrowed her eyes with a frown as he said, “And she’s the Ice Princess.” 

Honestly she should be grateful for the nickname and that it sounded quite regal in comparison to other ice related names. Hell, they could’ve dubbed her Frost. Or Snowflake. Or God forbid Icicle. At least with the Ice Princess it made her sound both menacing and dauntless. Still, it was too on the nose. And it didn’t help that before the accident that granted her the powers and the Avengers, she was a socialite in America. Before they died, her parents were wealthy investors and friends with the late Tony Stark.

Johnny didn’t try to hide his grin, “The Ice Princess,” earning a glare from the woman, obviously not amused by the nickname nor his delight from it. 

“And what do they call you, hotshot? Firestarter? Flame-man?” 

He shrugs sheepishly, cheeks a tint red, “Human Torch.” Now that has Y/n’s lips curl, fighting back the smile as she hums.

Setting the Four up at campus, they were given rooms and full access to the labs and training facilities. Reed and Ben immediately joined Banner, while Johnny and Sue decided to observe the Avengers and learn from them. Their dynamics. Their history. The way they train and how they come together to develop strategy. How they are able to make a team consisting of individuals with different levels of abilities, experience, and ethics work. 

Johnny would be lying if he said he wasn’t the most curious about Y/n. Not only was she the most beautiful, and quite terrifying, woman he’d ever met, but he was drawn to her aura. The power she held, both physically and on the team. She was extremely intelligent, a mentor to the young members, witty. Unafraid to go toe-to-toe with Sam or Strange. 

And her powers….they were exact opposites. Fire and ice. Hot and cold. Where he controlled flames, she manipulated glaciers. He turned himself into a human torch, she transformed to a human icicle. 

Talk about opposites attract. 

Days passed, and the two teams merged together with the goal of locating their common enemy. By keeping up with the news and reports of suspicious activity, they were able to narrow down the search for Doom. Suspecting him to be hiding somewhere in the New England area. 

The day before planning to scour the location, the teams trained with each other, none holding back. Showing off what they were made of. An enthralling experience considering the Fantastic Four had only been a team for a couple years in comparison to the fifteen plus of the Avengers. Banner being the only founding member there, Sam and Y/n not far behind. 

“I like her,” Sue whispered to her brother when Y/n sideswiped Joaquin and put him on his ass. The group made a circle around the matts in the gym and were taking turns going against each other. Sue caught the way the man’s gaze followed the Avenger. Mesmerized by her skill and ability. And Sue always knew when her brother had a crush. “You should go next when it’s her turn again.” 

Johnny didn’t respond, but the look on his sister's face, a cheeky smirk told him he wasn’t being conspicuous as he thought he was with his feelings. “Shut up.” 

The most tense, and nearly destructible moment, came when the Four discovered a photograph of Tony Stark on the wall of a different debrief room alongside the founding Avengers. Who bore a striking resemblance, well actually he was identical, to Dr. Victor von Doom. The man they were after. 

There was screaming. Accusations thrown at each other. Of course suspicion and confusion from the Four. Up until that point the Avengers only saw Doom with his cloak and mask from the footage, and the Four hadn’t described his appearance. And while the Avengers mentioned Tony Stark, they didn’t show any pictures. 

It calmed when Strange had to remind them about the existence of variants. He met Reed’s when traveling to Earth-838. Peter Parker met two of his. It was completely possible that their Victor von Doom was a variant of their Tony Stark. Were they the same man? Not really when one thinks about it. But they shared a face. The Reed Richards Strange met looked nothing like the one standing in front of him. While in Earth-838, Strange met a young lady who worked with Christine, that world’s version of the Ice Princess, who was not Y/n. Peggy Carter was their Captain America!

Oh, and there was the big detail in the fact that Tony Stark was dead. 

When the commotion settled and the two groups lost their steam, Johnny noted the deflated appearance of the Avengers. All falling quiet with unreadable expressions. Peter excused himself, “I-I don’t feel good. I’m gonna go lay down,” but the blonde saw the way his lip trembled and eyes watered. Rushing out of the debriefing room on a mission to get away from everyone before he burst into tears. A feeling of guilt suddenly consumed Johnny, glancing at his friends who shared the same concern. 

Banner was quiet, as was Strange. The others, who didn’t know Tony personally, shuffled on their feet and quietly excused themselves as well. Sam had his back to everyone, a distant look in his eyes as he gazed down at the bullpen below. 

And then there was Y/n. Sitting in silence with her hands clenching the arms of her chair, white knuckled and jaw so tight he swore he saw a vein protruding. Her breathing was shallow, eyes staring blankly at the wall. 

Johnny felt unease, unsure of what to do. Should he say something? Should they leave the room? Nothing felt right at that moment. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this new revelation changed everything. This was no longer just containing a multiversal threat, this was personal so to say. 

He was spared the ordeal when Sam finally spoke, only to be interrupted by Y/n, “You know you don’t have to--.”

“Do not finish that sentence, Sam.”

He turned away from the window to look at her, tone serious, “I’m trying to look out for you, Kid.”

“What’d I tell you about calling me that?” 

“And Peter,” Sam continues, not letting up, “No one will fault you two for wanting to pull out of this.” 

She scoffs, offended by the insinuation as she stands from her chair. The atmosphere in the room heated up again, and Johnny tensed, watching the woman step forward so she was nearly chest to chest with Sam. “There is a multiversal madman out there and you’re suggesting I stay grounded?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “What the fuck, Sam?”

“This is different, Y/n,” his voice was steady, willing her to understand. He wanted the best for his team. And their situation was unlike anything they’d ever dealt with. “You have to realize that. This Doom is--.”

“Not him, Sam! Y/n threw her hands up, yelling as the anger she had tried to contain began to unleash, “I’m not fucking stupid! For Christ’s sake, I know that’s not Tony and I’m not going to compromise this team because the man we’re up against has the same face as him!” 

“Y/n--,” Strange attempted to intervene but she shot him a look and he immediately backed down. 

“If you think Peter and I should back out, then so should Banner,” she pointed to the man who had yet to say something since the news of Tony’s variant was revealed. “Him and Tony founded this team. And let’s not forget your history with the damn Accords. Should I go call Rhodey and see what he thinks?” 

‘Accords? Rhodey?’ Johnny thought to himself, not familiar with the term as he thought back to the lessons on the Avengers. They must’ve omitted that detail, assuming it was a rather dark part of their history. A confirmation he got from the reactions of Banner and Strange, who’s expressions were complete shock and appalled. 

Sam’s demeanor shifted to that of hurt and exasperation, her words hitting him like a bullet from a gun. “That was low, even for you.” Yeah, whatever it was they were references, the Four gathered it wasn’t good. 

Y/n stepped back as though he struck her, a flash of regret in her eyes but she kept her head up, willing herself not to break. “I’m an Avenger. I took an oath, the same as you, and made a promise to Tony that I’ll do whatever it takes to protect this planet against any and all danger. I will not break that promise, and nothing you say or do will stop me.” Y/n backs away, moving toward the door, “I’ll see you on the quinjet tomorrow, Cap.”

An eerie silence remained as the door slammed shut behind Y/n. Nobody moved. Nobody made a sound. The air was thick, and full of tension. The Four glancing at each other with uncertainty. 

“Wings up at eight,” Sam announced, voice strong with authority as though the last five minutes never occurred. Or didn’t bother him, though Johnny noted the pinched look of his brows.

The Captain then departed the room, Strange and Banner following out with a nod to the Four. Left to their own devices, the Four spent the next hour in the debrief room watching footage of the Avengers. Particularly ones with Tony Stark, the Iron Man, and the several catastrophic missions he dealt with alongside the Avengers. Provided with the mountain of videos from news channels and social media of people who experienced it first hand. 

New York 2012. Ultron 2015. The Superhero Civil War of 2016. That’s where they learned of the Accords Y/n referenced and how she and Sam were involved. The two on opposite sides of the scale as Y/n pledged allegiance to Tony while Sam supported former Captain America, Steve Rogers. Witnesses flying a private plane around the airport captured the fight between the two teams. 

Johnny watched with a frown as Y/n battled against her colleagues and friends. He could tell she was holding back on using her power to the highest degree, not really wanting to hurt them, but enough to send a message. For example, when Steve and Bucky attempted to flee to the hangar, Y/n created a layer of ice on the pavement, causing them to tumble and fall. Then she made a wall of ice to contain Scott Lang in his giant form. But that was a failure, as the wall wasn’t thick enough allowing Scott to break free, sending chunks of ice toward the ground, knocking the hero unconscious when one collided with her head, blood spilling from her temple. To prevent her from being crushed, Tony flew in a record speed to gather in his arms and rush her to safety. 

Later that night when Johnny was wandering the building, he found Y/n on the balcony overlooking the main grounds. A hue of orange and pink painting the sky as the sun set on the horizon. The dark blue of nightfall taking over lurking in the background. She was out of her suit, dressed in casual clothes consisting of a hoodie and sweats. A faint expression on her visage as she stared out in the distance. 

Gathering courage, Johnny took a deep breath before gently sliding back the door, the cool breeze hitting him in the face as he closed it behind him and approached the woman. Her head tilted slightly, acknowledging that she heard him, but made no move to address. 

They stayed like that for a minute. In silence, basking in the peace they were afforded before the impending danger they were to face. 

“I’m sorry you all had to witness that,” Y/n eventually spoke, tone neutral as her expression. “That was unprofessional of me.”

Johnny shook his head with a shrug, “You don’t have to apologize. I can’t imagine what you and your friends are feeling. And I’m sorry we jumped to conclusions--accusing you guys of--.”

“Considering what you told us of Victor von Doom,” She sent a pointed look, her voice one of understanding, “you had every right to be cautious. Plus,” she sighs, gaze flickered down to the railing, “you four are still new to the Multiverse. We’ve known about it for five years, and I remember that feeling of confusion and uncertainty. America told us all about her experiences traveling through various realities.” Y/n’s frown deepened, shuffling on her feet with unease. “In one world, she met a version of me that hated the Avengers--and tried to destroy them.” Her body shudders, and not from the wind, “That stuck me for a while. I couldn’t imagine a world where I was the enemy. Whose goal was to hurt the people I cared about. Steve, Nat, Tony.” 

Johnny nodded, leaning his elbows on the railing as he pictured it. Surely there were versions of himself out there in the multiverse. He wondered what they were like. Did they have the same power? Did they get to live a normal life like he once thought he would? Was he a hero? Or was there a version of Johnny who went against all he stood for? 

He too, refused to imagine a scenario where he’d want to harm his sister and friends. It saddened him to even think about such a thing. And the way Y/n said Tony’s name, showed him she felt the same.

“Was he your father?” the question left his lips before he could stop it. Immediately regretting upon the distant look that encompassed her visage along with the glossiness of her eyes.

“He was the closest thing I had to one after my own died,” Y/n bit her lip, scoffing lightly, “actually even when mine was alive. Met the man when I was five--my father invested in Stark Industries and the two were good friends. I have fond memories of going to Stark Tower and watching Tony’s expos.” A small smile appeared, but it soon turned to a frown. “My parents profited off the sciences and technology, but didn’t really care to understand it.” There was a bitter taste in her mouth as she spoke, and Y/n was a bit surprised she was being so open with Johnny. A rare feeling, for she was hardly this vulnerable about her past with her teammates. And she’d known them for decades almost.

“I was always smart growing up but they never acknowledged or praised me for it. Told me college wasn’t necessary since we were wealthy and what good would higher education be when we were well set. Mind you,” she shoots a glance at Johnny, who was watching her intently. “My father went to business school in Chicago and my mother was a journalist before they got married.”

“The pot calling the kettle black,” he muses, tone laced with disappointment on her behalf.

“Exactly,” she sighed, shaking her head as she looked back toward the city. “My father laughed when I told them I wanted to pursue physics at MIT. Told me if I was going to go to college then I should do business where the money was at--as if I needed more fucking money,” Johnny heard the frustration and sadness in her voice, picturing a young Y/n with dreams who just wanted the support of her parents and was denied. Thinking about it made his heart strain.

“Anyways, Tony was the one who helped me get to MIT. It was my freshman year he got kidnapped and became Iron Man. Barely saw him after that because his partnership with my dad ended.” Fiddling with her rings, Y/n closes her eyes briefly while taking a breath, then shrugs nonchalantly, “My folks were among the casualties in New York, my accident happened not long after….” she straightens up with a sniff, “Tony Stark helped me find purpose. Told me there were greater things for me--and my powers could be a tool to help people. He took me under his wing when the government advised him not to. I owe everything to him.” Turning to lock their eyes, Y/n’s gaze is filled with determination. 

“As he died I promised him to continue his legacy. I intend to keep it, until my last breath.”

Defeating Doom proved itself to be the most defining moment for the Avengers and Fantastic Four. Lasting months on end, for each time Doom was in their grasps he managed to get two steps ahead of them. Thankfully the integrity of space, time, and reality didn’t seem to disintegrate with the Four in Earth-616. Something the geniuses of the team were concerned about. 

When it was finally over, Doom neutralized and the multiverse saved, the Avengers and the Four--bloodied, bruised, and covered in grime, dragged themselves to a nearby shawarma joint to pig out. Beer flowed, music sounded from the jukebox beside the round table they took claim to. 

And after months of tip-toeing around feelings, Johnny and Y/n finally said ‘fuck it,’ falling into step together as a unit they both craved. The Ice Princess seated firmly in his lap with her head tucked under his chin, eyes fluttering closed as the exhaustion kicked in. 

For Johnny, he’d been crushing on the woman since he first laid eyes on her. Keeping his affections hidden as he knew deep down it would be unwise to pursue anything with someone who 1) was from another world; and 2) he needed to focus on the task at hand. 

The same went for Y/n, who realized her fondness for the blonde about a month after he arrived. She’d be lying if she didn’t find him attractive during that first meeting. Anyone with eyes would agree. But she knew better than to be involved with him given their predicament. 

Yet, by a power greater than universe, the man of fire melted her frozen heart. He wasn’t put off by her cool attitude, unlike most people when they first meet Y/n. Yeah he got under her skin with his boyish charm and flirtations, but he never crossed any lines. Always respectful. Always mindful. 

Neither were sure when things changed between them. Maybe it was when Y/n pushed him out of the way of a line of fire from a Doombot causing her to take three bullets to her back and nearly bleed out right there in the middle of the street. Or when Johnny spent a week in a coma for exposing himself to a deadly dose of radiation to prevent Y/n from doing so. Whatever it was, the two could no longer beat around the bush. And the night before the final battle against Doom, they confessed their feelings on the balcony overlooking Avengers campus. Sealing their promise to stay alive with a kiss.

“You sleepy, darling?” Johnny murmured against her hair after finishing a conversation with Shang-Chi. Tightening his arms around the woman when she nuzzled his chest before laying a sweet kiss to her forehead. 

“Just resting my eyes.” His finger brushed her cheekbone, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, making Y/n sigh in content. 

“Rest,” he told her, not buying it at all, and by the tone of his voice she knew he was smiling. “I’ll wake you when we’re ready to leave.” All he received was a hum, the man beaming as he carded his fingers through her hair. And when Johnny lifted his gaze he met his sister’s, who’s expression was full of fondness, shooting him a wink as she gestured toward the sleeping Avenger in his lap. 

‘Told you so,’ Sue mouthed, grinning at his pink tinted cheeks. 

‘Shut up,’ he mouthed back, though he returned the smile. 

In the days following their victory, one question remained: Will the Fantastic Four return home? America was their ticket out. All she had to do was open a portal. It may take time, but eventually she’d shuffle through enough realities until she found theirs. Luckily in the months they’d been away, the fabric of reality remained intact. 

In all honesty, that fact alone is what made them contemplate leaving. 

The Fantastic Four didn’t belong in Earth-616 having landed there by mistake, but it had been almost a year. Integrating themselves into the Avengers and developing bonds. Besides the romantic feelings between Johnny and Y/n, the remaining Fantastic Four were not sure if they wanted to leave. Reed and Ben enjoyed working with Banner and Strange. Sue longed for female companionship, and found that with Y/n and the other women of the Avengers. And Johnny connected with the guys. They all became friends.

They became a team.

And since they weren’t leaving anyone behind in their world, what harm was there by staying? The Avengers could use more allies. And who knows another high level threat would appear. Threatening the existence of the universe. They needed a strong team, and defeating Doom proved they were one. 

Yeah, it was a no brainer. 

Now here they were two years later. The Ice Princess and Human Torch cuddled in their bed, in their apartment in Avengers campus, on their day off where they could enjoy the peace as no new threats had emerged in the last two months. 

Johnny groaned when Y/n pulled away from the kiss, moving to sit up so she was straddling his hips. The comforter falling behind her as she fought against his firm grip when he attempted to pull her back down. 

“Sorry, hotshot, no sleeping in for me today. I have to get ready.”

He tilted his head, partly confused, partly offended, “For what?”

“I promised your sister I’d have breakfast with her.”

“But it’s Sunday,” He sat up, hands gripping her waist as he moved to press kisses on her neck. “We don’t do anything on Sundays. Except sleep….” he trailed off, pulling away to give her a cheeky smile, “and give each other some lovin’.”

Y/n chuckled, tilting her head back as his plush lips captured her chin, trailing down her jaw until he found the place behind her ear. “Baby, I’ll give you all the loving this afternoon until the sun sets and the moon rises,” she feels him shudder against her, smirking in satisfaction. “But I’m a woman of my word.” 

Lifting herself off him, she leaned over to her side of the bed to grab her rings off the nightstand. Returning to his lap as she placed them on her fingers. Her college ring on her right hand, and the beautiful Cartier stack consisting of her engagement and wedding rings. Once all were placed on her finger, Johnny lifted her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles just below. His own wedding band shining against the sunlight peeking through the curtains. 

“Don’t keep me waiting too long now,” Johnny flirted, chocolate eyes sparkling while pressing her hand to his chest where his heart laid. Heat radiated off his body. “I might come looking for ya.” The words earned him a playful glare.

“Behave,” she scolded without any bite. “Or I’ll punish you.”

“I want you too,” Johnny challenged, winding his arm around her waist to hold her closer. 

All she did was shake her head, laughing at his behavior while he continued his assault on her neck, allowing him a few extra kisses before she really had to get up. “You are something else, Johnny Storm.” 

“And you love meeeee.”

“I do,” she breathed out, tilting her head down to meet his lips halfway, hand cupping his jaw. He sighed in victory, chasing her mouth each time she pulled away, causing her to giggle. “Johnny! The sooner you let me leave, the sooner you get to have me all to yourself.” 

He groaned again, loosening his hold but not completely letting Y/n go. “Fine,” he mumbled, pouting, but smiled when she kissed his cheek. “Bring me back a coffee, please?”

“Of course, my love.” 

With that he reluctantly let go of her waist, allowing his wife to get up from the bed. But before she could make her way to the bathroom, Johnny caught her hand, making her turn back to him with a raised brow.

“Some say the world will end in fire.” He begins to recite the famous poem by Robert Frost. What started as a joke between the two because of their abilities, transformed into something far more intimate. The poem itself was about human emotions, and their power to lead to self-destruction. Fire was fast, Ice was slow. Together they were each other's strength and weakness. And despite being complete opposites, they both played a role in dismantling humanity. 

But for Johnny and Y/n, they managed to do the impossible. They bridged the gap between fire and ice.  

Y/n smiles affectionately, lifting her free hand to the back of his neck to scratch at the nape of his hairline. “Some say in ice.”

“From what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire.”

“But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate, to say that for destruction ice.”

“Is also great,” They both recite, leaning in to capture each other's lips as they whisper the final line of the poem. 

“And would suffice.”

[foxesofwonderland]

The urge to Hug Him. 🥺🥹

joseph quinn as eric in a deleted scene from a quiet place day one (2024)

[foxesofwonderland]

Loving this. And love that it is inspired by empire records.

Jessie’s Girl

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁, 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝗮 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗿, 𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 (𝗰𝗶𝗴𝘀)

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗻𝘁: 𝟰.𝟱𝗸

the third chapter of Open Til Midnight

June 23, 1979.

You and Eddie were at Skull Rock. Fourteen years young and laying back on a blanket, snacking and listening to Black Sabbath together. Eddie’s got his vest off, sewing a new patch onto it.

“Motörhead.”

“Yeah. Can you believe I got this at the fabric store. Kenny made it for me.” He smiles as he sews the patch on.

“Wish we could see them live. No way would they ever come here.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t even think they know Hawkins exists.”

You look over him. Eddie’s changed from a punk to thrash guy. His curls moving with every head shake to the music. “Your hair’s growing so long.”

“Yeah. Wayne says I’m starting to look more and more like my mom. Think he just wanted an excuse to say I look ridiculous again.”

You laugh. “You know he means well.”

“Yeah.. think he’s just tired of buying new shampoo. Not like he needed any hair cair.” He snorts.

“You tried another shampoo?” That’s the third one this month. Eddie just wants to make sure his mane smells good. He remembers in those interviews on Mtv that girls are attracted to rockstars and hire they smell, what they wear, what they play. With his new hairdo, new hellfire tees and promised gigs at the hideout on tuesdays, he was on the route to that dream.

“I did.” He smirks, proud of himself. “Go on give it a whiff.”

You lean in and his curls tickle your nose. You hum. “Blueberries?”

He nods. “And..”

“Something minty.” You raise a brow. “Peppermint?”

“Lemon mint.” He smiles. “What do you think?”

You giggle. “Think I have the same one.”

His eyes widen. “You’re joking right?”

“Wish I were. You’re swooning ladies with their own shampoo, Eddie.” You giggle and he shakes his head.

“Blasphemy. The bottle was in the men’s section.”

“Yeah but did you read the bottle? Did it say mens?”

“I just smelled it and put it in the cart.” He smiles at your laughter, now laughing at himself. “Damn. I can’t win can I?”

“Well you’re still new to having hair this long. And you’ve got all summer to rebirth yourself.”

“Damn straight, princess. And we’re gonna go through high school like nothing. Me and the boys can rehearse and have some real campaigns now that we’ve got the club. And since we’ve got gigs at the Hideout maybe we’ll finally be seen. Gonna focus on getting signed. Getting out of here.”

You love when Eddie gets like this. Talking about his dreams for Corroded Coffin. For his band.

“Leaving me so soon?” You nudge his foot with yours and he returns the gesture.

“I’m offended.” He clutches his chest yet again. “You think i’d let you stay here? No. Screw that, you’d be with us all the time.”

You can’t help but smile. “You are the sappiest metalhead I know. Nerdiest too.”

“Nerds have more fun.“ He winks at you. “And if im a sap so be it. You’re my best friend and you’re always here for me. We’re a package deal, sweetheart, no matter what.”

You grin. “No matter what.��

Best friends. A package deal. You and Eddie were and still are, inseparable. You swore that you’d always be there for each other no matter what, which is why Eddie’s disturbed today. He can’t stop thinking about how weird you were, how avoidant you behaved before leaving his apartment yesterday. He knew something was wrong but he didn’t want to pry. Not when there’s bigger things to focus on.

As you organize the cds, you try to focus on literally anything to get your mind off of Eddie. The ding of the door when a customer walks in, the sound of the Talking Heads from the store speakers, the annoying baby crying in his mother’s arms from the Fleetwood Mac section.

All you see is Eddie. His hair, his body, his face in those pictures. His lips so pink and arms so toned. Maybe he has been working out. Those jeans made his thighs looks so good, that slim waist.. you inly imagined how good his ass looked in them. And seeing him naked like that. His scarce happy trail leading down to his-

“Found it. Thought this broke ages ago but I can take it to Argyle’s buddy, see if he can check it out.” Jonathan says as he holds a half damaged amp from the break room.

“Looks good enough to sell. Did you check for any plugs?”

“No but im taking Robin and Steve to three different pawn shops so if we get a good deal just call.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you after.”

You head to the register to take up for Robin while she leaves. Selling the old amps and guitars, different things you don’t use anymore from the storage space next to the store. It’s an easy way to add cash to your current savings. You just hope it’s enough.

~~~~

Your shift is going nice. It’s an easy one. Monday’s usually are. Inventory is done, customers come and go and you enjoy your spot at the register, talking with different customers and introducing them to new music.

Chrissy walks up to the counter. “Hey, i’m taking lunch so Eddie’s gonna cover for me up here.”

Eddie. Just great. You hadn’t spoken to him since yesterday after seeing those pictures.

“Okay.”

She smirks and looks in the rock section. You think Eddie’s standing there but no, it’s someone else but still, someone familiar.

“That cute blonde guy’s back again.” She smiles and looks at you.

“He always comes on mondays.” You nod and shrug, not thinking much of him.

“I know. He flirts with you every monday.” She grins, with a suggestive look in her eyes.”

“Is it flirting if I don’t reciprocate?.”

“Yes.” She smiles. “Come on, you haven’t had a date since when?”

Since last October. You found him hooking up with some other girl, she looked nothing like you. And you honestly didn’t know if that hurt you more or relieved you.

“Give it a rest, chris. He’s a customer and I am not interested in some random guy-“

“Could I get one of those Springsteen pins?” He smiles, vinyls in hand and a cute grin on his face.

He’s got the cutest nose and blue eyes so captivating, the ocean would be jealous. Maybe it is. His beachy waves of blonde hang over his forehead a bit.

You grab the pin and grin as he sets his yinyls on the counter. Bruce Springsteen, Bon Jovi, Madonna, Aerosmith. Of course he gets Aerosmith, he always does.

“Madonna?” You raise your brow.

“It’s for my sister.” He’s quick to respond. “But I do love a good material girl.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You smile, ignoring how Chrissy’s been glancing at the both of you from the record player behind the counter.

“That’s a nice ring you got there.” He nods at the silver ring on your left middle finger, a dark onyx gem in the center.

“Thanks, was a gift.”

You remember turning 20, and the big party you all threw here in this very store. Steve walked you out for a surprise lunch and when you came back, everyone had party hats and hung streamers. The store closed earlier that day as you all shared cake and drinks.

Everyone gave you their gifts at the party but Eddie waited to drive you home to give you his gift. The ring looked so expensive and he explained he saved up for it for months. When he slid it onto your finger it just made since, it was perfect. And you looked into each other’s eyes. You still remember what he told you that night in the van. His voice.

“Excuse me.”

His voice.

“Shit.. sorry.”

You move to the side to let him reach under the counter. Sharpie. More vinyls to be shipped out. Chrissy steps back to let Eddie key into the register since he’s next to check out customers here.

You bag up the customer’s cds and he hands you his cash.

“Will this be all?” You ask the blonde guy.

“Yeah,” he nods and takes the bag and his change from you. “Actually um, I just wanted to ask if you were busy. Tomorrow.”

Chrissy looks at Eddie. Eddie looks at your foot. Your boot tapping against the rug. Nerves. And he feels them too.

“Um.. well, I have to work, so..”

“What time do you get off?”

“Seven.” You nod.

“How about I pick you up? Take you for dinner?” He smiles.

Suddenly Eddie hates the color blue, seeing how the guy’s eyes light up when you say..

“Sure.”

He smiles. “Well great. I will.. i’ll see you then,” he looks at your nametag then saying your name.

“I’ll see you then..”

He smiles. “Jessie.”

You grin. “Bye Jessie.”

He leaves and goes out the door. Chrissy decides to leave to avoid the awkward conversation she knows is about to take place. You focus on your register as the space behind the counter feels smaller. You’ve told yourself too many times that Eddie is just your best friend and he definitely doesn’t see you like that. If he did, he would’ve made a move, and he hasn’t made a move. You needed something. Anything, to get your mind off of the pictures of Eddie that you saw. If it was a date with Jessie then so be it.

After some silence you Eddie speaks up, his voice a bit relaxed. Too relaxed.

“Dating the Aerosmith guy?”

“I guess dinner would be nice.” You look at him and he hasn’t looked up from the clipboard as he writes down the packages he’s signed and boxed up.

“He pulled the push door again on his way out.” The corner of his mouth lifts a bit as that familiar smug smirk starts to form.

You grin. “What are you keeping tabs on him?”

He huffs out a small laugh and shakes his head, his messy curls falling with each movement. He whips his hair back to look at you this time.

“Maybe I should if he’s taking my best friend on a date.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms. "Since when do you get all possessive?"

He leans against the counter, the smirk growing as he shrugs. "Since Aerosmith wannabes started sniffing around you."

You roll your eyes but the warmth rising in your cheeks betrays you. "It's just dinner, Eddie. And it's not like I need your approval."

He places a hand over his heart. "Approval? Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart. But a warning? Absolutely."

You raise a brow, trying to read him. It’s a bit impossible to right now. "And what exactly are you warning me about?"

He taps the clipboard against the counter, thinking for a second before locking eyes with you. "Those guys always have an angle. Dinner leads to dessert, dessert leads to backstage passes and before you know it, you're a line in one of their breakup ballads."

You can’t help but to laugh. “Are you telling me Corroded Coffin has lines about girls in their ballads?”

He chuckles. “Did you see any girls lined up to talk to us?”

“Well, not really.” You bite your lip. “You really think Jessie’s like that?”

Hearing you say his name scars Eddie but he’s playing it cool. “Don’t know. Just looking out for you, someone has to.”

You meet his gaze with a playful challenge in your eyes. "And what if I don't need looking out for? What if I like the idea of being a song lyric?"

He leans in closer, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Then you're more reckless than I thought."

You swallow at the closeness and for a moment, the air between you changes. Charged and heavy like the static before a storm. His smirk falters for just a second, replaced by something softer, something... real. Something innocent. Those soft boyish features that hide how rowdy and chaotic he is.

A customer walks up to his register. He looks over your face and speaks lowly for only your ears. “Just be careful.”

He stands straight and greets the woman, ringing up her tapes and you swallow and stand in front of your register.

~~~~~

Tuesday. Four days until the first.

Steve managed to get a decent six hundred for a box of some of his old sneakers. Jonathan and Robin made four hundred and thirty seven dollars for the amps and an old acoustic guitar. You added the cash together from Hopper’s pile and the college dealings you and Eddie did on Sunday.

You sit in the break room, counting the cash as you hear a curse from the restroom.

You call out. “Are you okay?”

“Uh.. all good , sweetheart.”

The door’s cracked open so you take a break and walk over, walking in after he tells you to. You gasp, seeing he has scissors in his hand, his thumb bleeding as he sucks his wounded finger.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You quickly grab the scissors.

“Just a trim.” Eddie winces and reaches for the first aid kit.

You take out the bandages and shake your head. “To your bangs? You’ve actually lost your mind.”

He flips on the sink and washes his hands. Drying them and taking the bandaid from you. “Thanks mom, but I think i’ve got it.”

Your brows furrow. “But you always let me trim your hair.”

He shrugs and looks away. “Didn’t think you wanted to.”

You couldn’t blame him for how he felt. You just pull him to sit on the lid of the toilet seat and take out the scissors. He gives a small nod of surrender, letting you do as you please. You stand between his legs and get to trimming.

You speak softer. “I’m sorry I haven’t been more communicative.”

“You don’t need to apologize, princess. Just.. worried I made you upset or something.”

You raise a brow. “Why would I be upset?”

He looks up at you. “The party.”

Your eyes widen a bit. The college party? “What do you mean?”

He fiddles with the rips in his jeans a bit. “You really dont remember?”

He’s hesitant and that worries you a bit. “Eddie what happened?”

He speaks in a tone so low as if to save you embarrassment from each other. “You know, when you tried to kiss me.”

What?

“What?”

“When you had that smirnoff and we sold the last bag of K, you like.. grabbed my face and pulled me down.” He looks away.

“Oh I.. I didn’t know-“

“It’s okay. I know you were pretty drunk you had like ten of those things.” He sighs. “I guess I just.. when you tried to kiss me I kinda grabbed your hands and told you to stop. I thought you might’ve been pissed at me and left in a hurry on Sunday.”

You can’t believe yourself right now. Wanting to kiss Eddie? Hell yes. But making him feel like your behavior was his fault and not due to your own discovery? Not in a million years.

“No. Eddie I, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get handsy or weird. It’s just.. so much going on. I feel like shit.”

He looks up at you. “I don’t mind at all. I get you wanted to get drunk and forget about your worries for a bit. I just can’t stand the way things are right now.” You watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I miss you.”

You look back into his eyes. “I miss you too, Eddie.”

He sighs and stands up, pulling you into a hug in which you happily and quickly return. It feels good being this close to him. His hair tickling your skin, the warmth of his body, his scent. That scent.

He raises a brow when he feels your body tremble from holding in a laugh. “What?”

You laugh. “Blueberries and lemon mint!”

He laughs along with you. “Damn, I feel exposed princess. You’re being a bad friend.”

“You still use that same shampoo?”

“Hey it hasn’t failed me in the ten years that i’ve been using it and I plan on keeping it that way.” He points a finger at you so you point one back.

You grin, leaning closer as your finger playfully taps his. "Ten years, huh? That's commitment. You might be more loyal to that shampoo than anything else in your life."

He chuckles, dropping his hand but not stepping away from you. "Maybe. But hey if it smells good and works why change it?"

You tilt your head, your smile softening as you study him. “Fair enough.” You sit the scissors down as he rakes his fingers through his hair.

“You look really nice today.” He says a bit sheepishly.

You do. After all, you had a date tonight. You wanted to make an impression. Since you and Jessie agreed on a casual night out you wore a brand new pair of light wash jeans, the bootcut ones that show off your curves in the best way. Your pretty white notched Twisted Sister tee and your hair beautifully worn to your liking.

“Thanks. I mean, I didn’t wanna scare him away on the first date with a shit ton of eyeliner or some demonia’s.”

“If that scares any guy away then he’s blind.”

You smile, cheeks tinged with heat. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“Promise me if things get weird you’ll call me.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” He gives a small grin. “I would hate to show blondie the beast.”

“The beast?” You laugh. “Eddie, have you ever actually won a fight?”

He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. "I'll have you know I almost won plenty of fights, thank you very much."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Almost doesn't count, Eddie."

He narrows his eyes playfully, leaning against the counter. "Alright princess, remind me never to count on you for moral support.” He straightens up a bit. “But seriously. If he does anything sketchy, call me. I'll be there in ten minutes. Fifteen if traffic sucks but i’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” You grin.

He shrugs, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a half smile. "Anytime. Just don't forget about us regular folk when blondie sweeps you off your feet."

You roll your eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. No one's sweeping me anywhere.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

You lock eyes for a second. A warmth there that had been missing for a few days. So you almsot drunk kissed him and saw his pics, big whoop. If Eddie could move on from the avoidance so can you. The sweet moment is interrupted when Robin speaks over the intercom.

“Dingus needed at the register, the doors are now open.”

You both laugh.

“Duty calls,” he says, pushing off the counter and backing up to the door. "And remember, if he so much as looks at you wrong-"

"I know, I know," you interrupt with a laugh. "The beast will be unleashed."

"Damn right," he says, flashing you a grin before the door shuts behind him.

~~~~~

It was a nice day. No rude customers, your friendships were all good, and when you finished counting up the money you were closing in on having over five thousand. It’s only half, but it’s more than you started with before. But you promised yourself to focus on one thing tonight.

Jessie.

He’d taken you to a small bar with live music and then you grabbed dinner at the diner. You two got along well, talking rock music and careers. He was nice, a gentleman. He seemed pretty perfect. Too perfect. You two sit in the booth as you wait for dessert.

“I wanted to ask you something.” He sits up.

“Okay.”

He hesitates, not sure how to begin. But he does it anyways. “I come to the store a lot and well.. you dress differently a lot. I thought you were like some kind of goth or something.”

You smile. “Well I like goth music too but metal’s got my heart through and through.”

“Right but uh,” he shifts a bit in his seat and shrugs. “I mean you’re still normal to me, you know? Not like the rest of that crowd.”

You wait for the waitress to walk away after bringing your desserts. Jessie got cheesecake and you went for a milkshake per usual. Once she walks away you speak up.

“Rest of the crowd, huh?”

“Yeah. Like this really weird girl at my campus, she paints her face white and wears a bunch of pentagrams.” He hums and snaps. “And that one guy at Empire, with the messy hair? He’s got like some weird tattoos. I think one’s the devil-“

“It’s a horned demon from a board game.” You say softly, trying not to show how offended you feel.

“Yeah but, I don’t know. Just saying you’re not like them. At all.”

You stir your milkshake with the straw, forcing a tight smile as your stomach twists uncomfortably. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jessie leans back in his side of the booth, completely oblivious to your growing irritation. "I mean you're normal. You know, you don't go overboard with all that creepy goth stuff. You've got style, but you're not like... a freak." He laughs like he's made some kind of joke, but the sound grates against your nerves.

Freaks. What they called you and your friends in school. Years later and now on this date it all feels the same. So infuriating.

You put your milkshake down, suddenly finding it hard to look at him. "You know, some of us freaks actually like that 'creepy goth stuff," you say, trying to keep your tone light, though the edge in your voice betrays you.

Jessie raises an eyebrow. "Oh, come on. You know I didn't mean you. You're cool. But those people? They're just... weird. It's not normal."

You sit back on your end this time and cross your arms. “Define normal, Jessie. Because I'm pretty sure painting your face and having tattoos doesn't make someone less of a person."

He looks genuinely baffled, like he has no idea why you're upset. "I don't know, it's just... people like that are trying too hard, you know? Like they want attention or something. But not you, you're different."

"Sure," you say, your voice colder now. "I'm different because I tone it down for people like you, right?"

Jessie stares at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "What? No! I just meant you're not... extreme like them."

You sigh and rub your temple. “Jessie I.. I should go.”

His brows furrow. “What?”

“Those freaks are my friends. The people I love and consider family. And i’m not gonna sit here and let you badmouth us because you can’t accept that not everyone is a conventional as little perfect Jessie.”

You slap a ten on the table for your meal and stand, walking away before he could say anything else. Assholes like Jessie and Larry get away with everything and you’ve had enough. You just wanted comfort. Someone who got you, someone who would never judge you, never disappoint you.

You think of the one person who’s always been there. Inserting a coin into the phone booth you call him.

~~~~~

“What a dick.” Eddie says, puffing out a cloud of smoke from his cigarette as he drives you in his van.

“It’s okay. Just.. glad that’s over.”

Eddie smirks. He figures you could use a laugh. “You know.. when he picked you up, we were being nice but the second he pulled of Robin thought it was a good idea to play Jessie’s Girl on the speakers.”

You laugh. “Oh i’m gonna kill her.”

“Kill Steve, he was really into it.” He chuckles and starts to dance. “He hit us with this move.” He wiggles his hips in his seat and shakes his shoulders.

You laugh. “You know what, you guys are so not funny.”

He smiles. “Sorry, princess. Can’t help but to tease you for going on a date with that goofball.”

"Yeah, yeah," you reply, rolling your eyes but unable to hide your grin. "You're all comedians. Real original."

Eddie chuckles again, flicking the ash from his cigarette out the window. "I mean come on princess, you can do better."

You lean back in your seat, crossing your arms "Oh, and who exactly should I be going out with? Got any suggestions, Munson?"

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his smirk faltering just for a moment before returning full force. "I don't know, maybe someone who won't make Robin crank up Rick Springfield to cope."

You laugh again, shaking your head. "That's a pretty low bar."

"Exactly," he says, flashing you a cheeky grin.

"You deserve a guy who actually likes what you like. Someone cool. Someone, dare I say… metal." He emphasizes the word with a dramatic air guitar move, almost swerving the van in the process.

"Jesus, Eddie! Watch the road!" you yell, clutching the door for support.

He laughs, straightening the wheel. "Relax, princess. I got it under control. Besides, you're safe with me."

You give him a skeptical look, but his words linger in the air longer than you expected. Safe. Judgement free, laughing, smiling, safe with Eddie. There's something about the way he says it so casually but full of weight that makes your stomach flutter.

You clear your throat, looking out the window to avoid his gaze. "Well, maybe next time you can pick my date. Since you're such an expert on who I should be with."

He grins but doesn't respond right away. Instead, he takes another drag of his cigarette, the soft glow of it illuminating his face from the night sky. "Maybe I will," he says finally, his tone teasing but with a silent edge you can't quite place.

You glance at him and raise a brow. "I'm not sure if I should be terrified or intrigued."

Eddie smirks, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music playing softly from the radio. "A little bit of both, princess. Keeps things interesting."

You shake your head, fighting the smile creeping onto your lips. "You're impossible."

"I prefer the term eccentric," he shoots back, flashing you another grin.

You smile, enjoying the ride and the music and Eddie. It’s how things have always been. How things should always be. Forget the shitty date and the corporate assholes that have been ruining your month. This moment here with Eddie is all you need to keep going.

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