Summary: You’ve spent your life hating yourself for the things you’ve done. One man saw the good in you, and you lost him. Now you want blood, but a devilishly charming man might make you lose sight of your target.
Chapter One -> Target in Sight
Chapter Two -> WIP
Chapter Three -> WIP
Chapter Four -> WIP
Chapter Five -> WIP
Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)
Five times you and Kurt Wagner had a moment, and the one time he does something about it.
Summary: You guys all know a 5+1 fic is. This time, the reader is a single mom whose son just so happens to be Kurt's favorite student.
It's a wip, guys 😔 Will post it later, maybe.
Logan Howlett (Wolverine)
Mr. Shorty (WIP)
Summary: A short stranger walks into your father's saloon, wanting a job, but a familiar blond man steps in his way.
Will write for.....
☆ Adrian Chase
☆ Kurt Wagner
☆ Logan Howlett
☆ Lowkey any other character in the related fandoms
Won't write about...
I won't write any smut, mostly because I don't know how. 😭 Otherwise, it's all good!
Just give me a blurb (or a few sentences, so i know what you want), and I'll write a little 1k fic about it. Or headcannons if you prefer :P. JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT PLEASE!!!! 🙏 🙏🙏🙏
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I'll write them as long as you're descriptive (my idea bank is dry asf rn guys) and follow my very little rule list. I'm writing a pretty long Kurt fic rn if anyone wants to check out my masterlist, but I'm dying from writers block rn.
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I'm geeking out so hard right now guys!! Adrian photo cards and pins. The seller even gave me a freebie because the top right pic printed out wrong(?), but omg these are so good.
Summary: A voice message sent to the wrong person sparks an unlikely friendship between two people who have never met. Can an online friendship turn into something more?
Content: fem!reader, female pronouns used, reader on a date with an asshole (not Bob) mentioned, mentions of familial death and grief, slight misconception between Bob and Reader.
Word Count: 4.7k
“I cannot believe you set me up with that guy. He was horrible, he spent the whole date telling me how much money he made in an industry he said and I quote ‘ I won’t understand’ and then had the audacity to explain in excruciating detail his knowledge of the wines on the menu and something about a villa in France that made the most authentic Bordeaux or some shit. You owe me big time for this, you are never setting me up again, and I am contemplating killing you for putting me through this torturous evening.”
As Bob listened to the voice message that had been sent to him, Valentina had finally caved and gotten him a new phone following Yelena and Bucky speaking to her new assistant, hesitating about what was the most appropriate cause of action. Did he message to say that you had the wrong number? Ignore the message and pretend it didn’t happen?
When the chime of another message sounded, Bob paused before hitting play again, allowing his curiosity to win.
‘So, he just messaged me a picture of his dick and asked when we are seeing each other again, as even though I’m not his type, he thinks I’m okay enough to screw. Where did you find this creep? I swear to god, you are never setting me up again. Also, made it home, and he didn’t murder me, so you don’t have to call a search and rescue team on me. I’ll call you tomorrow after work if my boss doesn’t work me to death … again. Love you.’
With the new message, Bob realised that he did need to respond and let you know that you had not been messaging your friend but him, especially if you were going to call, that would be more awkward than a wrong person message.
He ended up typing and retyping the message multiple times before finally settling on the final draft.
‘Hi, this isn’t your friend's number. I think you sent the message to the wrong person. Sorry your date wasn’t very good. He sounds like a jerk’
He reread it several times before pressing send and hearing the familiar sending sound, hoping that the message wasn’t construed as creepy.
When you got out of the shower, having needed to wash away the lingering feeling from your date, and changed into your comfiest pair of pajamas before curling into bed. Reaching for the phone, the sight of the message notification caused your eyes to widen. “Shit”. In your rush to rant to Amara, the message had been sent to another contact which was a string of letters and symbols making AB3NJ35XROB34T. Amara was going to have a field day when this got passed on, especially since your best friend since high school had told you that the habit of naming contacts quickly and not proofreading it before saving them - Amara’s contact had been ANW4S for about 3 months before it was changed to Amara (Queen Bitch, LOML) .
‘Hi, this isn’t your friend's number. I think you sent the message to the wrong person. Sorry your date wasn’t very good. He sounds like a jerk.’
Reading over the message, the embarrassment caused heat to rise to your cheeks and you flopped back onto the pillow. Fingers hovering over the keyboard on the phone, hesitating before carefully crafting a new message
‘I’m sorry, thank you for letting me know. Going to go and find a spot for the earth to swallow me whole so I don’t have to deal with the embarrassment. Jerk is putting it lightly, total asshole is more accurate. Enjoy your night.’
Moving to the message for Amara and triple checking it was actually your best friend, she clicked on the microphone and started recording. “You will not believe what has happened tonight, so first of all …
The next morning, Bob opened his phone and saw a new message from the woman from the previous night. As he read it, a small chuckle escaped, and before he could think about it, he started responding.
‘Don’t worry. I’ve done way more embarrassing things than messaging a wrong number, and the earth hasn't swallowed me whole yet. Your friend is still alive right? You didn’t end up killing her? Just don’t want to be considered an accessory to murder.’
The second he hit send, he wondered if continuing to message a stranger like this would be considered weird. When the sound of a message arriving caused him to look down, he half expected a ‘don’t message me’ from the mystery messenger; however, it was Yelena giving him mission updates, which had been the main purpose of the phone since Val was concerned about security risks and him using the phone to secure drugs.
‘On way back’
‘Mission success’
‘Walker is being an asshole’
‘Isn’t he always?’
‘America’s Asshole.’ Bob replied before pocketing his phone and going to get some breakfast. Life at the New Avengers Tower was not something that he had ever imagined to be possible, then again, gaining superpowers after signing up for a drug trial in Malaysia was also something that would have seemed outrageous. Bob got to live in a multi-million dollar apartment complex with state-of-the-art amenities, even if the person funding the lifestyle was the most unethical and one of the most immoral people he had the misfortune of meeting, with people who considered him a friend, or a reluctant coworker at the very least.
Hearing the chime on his phone go off, Bob half expected to see another text from Yelena or even Ava to send him one about Walker if he was annoying the two assassins. His eyes widened when he saw that it was from Mystery Girl.
‘Sorry about the voice messages, I’m shit at typing on the phone when I’m running late for work. Tend to send more voice memos than texts anyway. Really? More embarrassing than potentially giving a complete stranger the details of a disastrous date and making them an accomplice in the murder of my friend? Love to hear some stories, just to make me feel better about last night, of course and definitely not because I love knowing all the juicy gossip, of course. Amara’s still alive for now, apparently; that wasn't the guy she set me up with, but he had swapped places with a friend of his, and she is now pissed at him. Also, that’s totally weird right? Setting up a date and then giving it to someone else? Like, be honest about it at least, not all shady. Also, what’s your name? Fuck, sorry, spilt hot coffee down my hand, where was I? Right, when I put it in my phone, it's saved as an array of letters and numbers, so I have no idea who you are. Bye Random Stranger.’
As Bob listened to the message, he couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. Hearing the voice of this person, he originally responded to be polite, and now, beginning to engage in a conversation with him, he went to the number and saved the contact as Mystery Girl.
‘My name’s Bob, not sure how you got my number, you are not saved in my phone at all, well now you are Mystery Girl. What’s your actual name?
I had a summer job dressed in a chicken suit and twirling a sign a few years ago, does that count as embarrassing?
Glad I’m not an accomplice to murder then.
Hope you make it to work on time. Bye.’
As the weeks went on, Bob found himself checking his phone more often. He’d normally not use the phone that much, mainly just communicating with the team when they were on missions and ordering books he wanted to read. From the messages he had received from you, he had learnt your name, your boss gave evil Miranda Priestley vibes, lived in a shitty apartment in Queens following the death of your Aunt a few years ago, Amara had been allowed to play matchmaker because you went through random phases where you wanted companionship, you tended to send voice messages when you couldn’t get your thoughts sorted and it was easier to just speak them out loud, and you had one of the worse sleep schedules he had ever seen (and that was saying something).
“Has anyone noticed that Bobby is slowly becoming more obsessed with technology?” Walker asked Yelena and Ava as they left for their mission, “especially his phone?”
“He’s getting used to having some freedom, leave him alone.” Ava snipped, though a coy smirk formed on your face, “though, there has been some blushing when he reads whatever has taken his fancy. You wouldn’t know anything about it, Yelena?”
“Bob is being tight-lipped about it.” Yelena sighed. She had tried to get some answers from Bob on the third day of him consistently checking his phone for new notifications. “He is also good at avoiding topics. We will have to see what happens, especially with Val’s assistant moving in soon.”
“Can’t believe we have a live-in babysitter.” Walker groaned, though he knew exactly why it was happening. Following a very public argument between Congressman Bucky Barnes and Captain America, there had been some blowback on the New Avengers, and Val’s assistant had managed to smooth over the entire issue quickly and efficiently within 36 hours. She had also smoothed out any PR issues with Alexei and Walker when their egos got too big and dealt with Yelena and Ava not being in the spotlight 24/7. “It’s going to be a nightmare and a ton of walking on eggshells while she’s yours."
“It’ll be fine, she’s not as bad as Val, at least.” Yelena sighed, knowing that even though she was reasonable, Val’s assistant was an absolute pain to deal with, especially when she had not had your coffee.
‘I cannot believe that you have never watched the Great British Bake Off.’
‘Go right now and watch it.’
‘I’m not speaking to you until you have watched 2 episodes minimum.’
‘Really?!’
‘Are you really ignoring me until I watch this?!’
‘Fine, I’ll go watch it.’
‘The things I do for you’
‘Ok, will give it to you, I’m enjoying it.’
‘Slight problem, I’ve finished half the season already and I want to bake a cake now.’
‘Right?! It’s so good.’
‘Please don’t bake a cake, you’ve shown me your cooking adventures or rather misadventures.’
‘We don’t need a burnt down kitchen.’
‘Maybe, I’ll send you a box mix for you to try with’
You could feel your friendship with Bob starting to grow into more, their messages, while increasing in frequency, were starting to take on a more flirtatious note. Originally, they had agreed to keep their friendship online, though both had confirmed that they were adults - Bob had joked that his roommates sometimes treated him like a child though. The more that they interacted, the more that you started to form a crush on someone you had never met, nor had even seen a picture of. Amara had teased you and told you to try and meet up with the guy, maybe it would explain why she had his name in your phone to begin with. While you wanted to know about the man and how this uncanny friendship had begun to form, she was worried about what it would mean for them if they did end up meeting. Would they be able to continue their conversations and banter? Would the chemistry be there? Would she be what he expected?
Normally, you had a decent sense of self and were mostly happy in your skin, but putting yourself out there for a stranger to see made you nervous. There was the doubt that he wouldn’t like what he saw, or even more concerning, that he saw you clearly, even the parts you tried to hide from everyone around you.
‘Hey, just wanted to check how getting ready for the move was going? You seemed really stressed in your messages earlier :)’
You reread Bob’s message over and over again, but she couldn’t exactly tell him how she was really feeling. After all, randomly blurting out that she had a crush on him was not the best idea and would probably scare him. Playing dumb and brushing it off could potentially work if not for the fact that Bob was annoyingly adept at picking up on tone and inferring what she really meant.
‘Hey, thanks for checking in. I’m okay, just that my moving date is now tomorrow. My boss needs to realise not everyone has as much money as she does to hire people to do any labour.
Plus, the last time I moved was out of the apartment where I lived with my aunt after her death. Keep remembering her and my uncle as I pack.’
As you ended up working through the rest of the boxes, your gaze kept flickering between the different areas of your apartment. She noted the space where the framed photos of you and your aunt, uncle and Amara were placed, now an empty space. The lack of seeing that familiar space mirrored the feeling of missing someone that she didn’t know. Though the couple of drinks youhad as you packed had made you more emotional than normal. Whilst you were in your state of remembrance and mechanically putting your bubble-wrapped belongings in cardboard boxes with hastily scrawled room labels on them, the sound of your phone ringing nearly caused you to drop the ugly mug that Amara had given you when she first moved into the shitty apartment. Seeing the name Bob flash across the screen, she took a deep breath before answering.
“Fancy hearing from you, I thought you had a doctor's appointment today Bob?” You answered, hoping that she did not sound too frazzled or excited to hear his voice.
“I did, but you seemed upset, and I wanted to make sure you were okay, plus the doctor’s visit was quick today, just needed blood drawn.” At Bob's admission, you dropped down and leaned against the wall, where a pot plant she desperately tried to keep alive once lived. Tilting your head back and resting it against the wall, you closed your eyes and tried to gather your thoughts.
“I feel like I'm being pulled in every which way, and I have no say in where I’m going. There's a constant in my life that I want to keep, and I’m worried if I try and make him more, I’ll lose him forever.”
The silence that came from Bob made you freeze, even with your slightly inebriated brain, she knew that something wasn’t normal in how long the silence was stretching; it had moved from comfortable to suffocating within seconds.
“Any- anyone would want to be a constant in your life” Bob’s voice was quieter than normal and less steady than when he normally spoke to you. “Whoever it is would be lucky to have someone as funny in their lives as you.”
“Thank you, Bob. Do you think I should be honest?”
“Yeah … yeah, you should.”
“Bo-” You hesitated, your voice shaking as you started to try and express your feelings. Hoping that you weren’t wrong in your thoughts of his feelings.
“Hey, I have to go. They’re calling a group meeting now. Speak soon.” Bob hung up, the sound of the disconnecting call causing the silence in the mostly packed apartment to feel crushing. Slowly, pushing off the wall, you began to finish up your packing and grab another glass of wine.
As Bob hung up the phone, he knew that he was being a coward by ending the call with you to avoid hearing about the person she wanted in your life. Normally, they spoke about everything and anything. He knew all about your Aunt and Uncle’s death, your embarrassing high school prom date, the time Amara got the two of them kicked out of a carnival when they were in high school, that you loved cooking shows and had recipes you wanted to try cooking but cooking always made you sad because you tried recipes with your Aunt before she died and that you had wanted to be a princess alien ninja when you were a child. What he didn’t know was that there was a guy in your life, one that you wanted to keep around, the only people you mentioned were your boss, colleague and Amara, and none of them had ever been spoken about with the softness of this guy.
He knew that he hadn’t been lying; there was a team meeting tonight, though it wasn’t for another thirty minutes. Val’s assistant was moving in tomorrow, and they were working out how to deal with the move-in process. The furniture had already been added to the room, and it reminded Bob of a hospital room with how clean, crisp, empty and white it looked. All of their rooms had looked like that when they moved in, but now they all looked varying degrees of lived-in. It also didn’t help that your room was down the hall from him; the team said it’s just how the layout of the floors had ended up, but there was a voice in the back of his mind saying it was so she would be able to spy on him for Val.
“Bob, you okay?” Yelena asked, having stuck her head into his room.
“Can you fall for someone you haven't met?” he asked, tugging on the hem of his sleeves, twisting it between his fingers.
“Your Mystery Girl?”
“She likes someone and wants to be more with them.” Yelena moved into the room and sat next to Bob on the foot of his bed, watching him as he flopped back on his bed. Nearly knocking the assassin off the bed with the force he laid back.
“I mean, she’s amazing, so it’s not like I don’t get why someone would like her. I just, I feel like I missed my chance, you know? Not that I’ve been speaking to her so I can date her, she’s still my friend, but she’s special Lena. How can… “
Yelena ended up tuning Bob out, adding the appropriate nods and uh-huhs when needed, as she snooped through the phone he had left next to you. Normally, she would not want to go through Bob’s phone, but she had had a sneaking suspicion since her meeting with Val earlier in the week and as she typed the number saved as Mystery Girl into her phone. When she did, the number matched yours perfectly and started plotting with a sly smile forming on her face.
“I’ll help you form a message tomorrow. Busy day with the move.” Yelena interrupted the ramblings, carefully planting the phone back where it was before leaving the room.
“Meeting in 10, don’t be late.”
You stood in your new room, the boxes having been picked up at 7am by a group of movers that had been vetted by your boss in order to gain access to the New Avengers tower and stacked around the room. It looked nothing like your previous apartments. A lot more spacious and a great deal fewer roaches, though it definitely felt more sterile and a whole lot less welcoming. Slowly moving the clothes into the drawers that were supplied, you tried to organise your thoughts. Bob hadn’t messaged you all day; this was the longest time that you hadn’t spoken to him since it started. He always messaged, and given how he reacted to their conversation, caused the ugly, icy feeling of doubt to claw its way into your mind and dig into the pit of your stomach. Had you lost your friendship by hinting that you liked him more than a friend? Was this his way of letting you know he wasn’t interested in you?
“Why am I coming with you Lena?” a voice rang out, causing you to slow down in your unpacking.
“You said I could meet Val’s assistant after you helped me with my message.”
“Change of plan, meet her first and once that’s over you can decide your next steps with your girlfriend.” a Russian accent spoke, you assumed that this was Yelena, having met the assassin multiple times given that her and Bucky took over most of the work with Val as the unofficial leaders of the team, and Val delegated their jobs to you or Mel.
“Trust me, this is going to be good”
“...Fine”
Stopping your packing, you headed over to greet your new visitors, which wasn’t surprising, your room had been a revolving door since you began the unpacking, with most of the New Avengers coming to see you in person. Ava had almost given you a heart attack when she walked through the wall right in front of you, Alexei had brought you a bottle of vodka as a housewarming gift, Bucky already knew you were coming and just told you to ask if you needed anything and John had almost been ‘volunteered’ to help move the furniture around your room so it suited your style more as repayment for the amount of extra work he caused last month. Yelena had not dropped in, and neither had the mysterious Robert Reynolds or Sentry, though from the sound of it, they were coming for their pop-in.
“‘Lena good to see you again. Especially when you aren’t dripping blood on my files,” you greeted the blonde, who just rolled her eyes, knowing exactly the incident you were referencing. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you crossed your legs and allowed your gaze to follow the two visitors.
“That was one time.”
“And it took me an extra 3 hours to fix up those files.”
Bob, who had followed Yelena in, half stood behind his closest friend and stared at you. The way you spoke, the sound of your voice felt so familiar to him, and his mind was frantically starting to piece together all the conversations that he had had with you over time. You were moving into a new place with roommates because of your evil boss. New Avengers Towers was a new place for you; the team would be classified as roommates, and Val definitely counted as an evil boss. As his mind worked over time trying to form these ideas, he tried to bury them, not wanting his hopes to rise.
“Hi, I don’t think we have officially met.” You introduced yourself, and it definitely meant more to the connection between his Mystery Girl and you. If it was you, he couldn’t believe it; you were drop-dead gorgeous, and the smile you gave him nearly made his heart skip a beat.
“Robert I presume?”
“Uh, Bob. I go by Bob” as he held out his hand, he noted how your eyes widened slightly and how you cautiously reached out and shook his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you. I hope you like it here.”
The sharp ringing of your phone caused you both to jump, AB3NJ35XROB34T lighting up your phone screen
“Sorry, I need to answer this.” You had practically dove off the edge of the bed and grabbed your phone from the bedside table.
“Hi, Bob.”
“Time to be honest with your feelings” Yelena smirked, looking like the cat who caught the cream, holding up a phone to her ear. You froze as you stared at her, confusion creasing your brows. The smirk on her face grew before she threw it at Bob as she hung up. “Oh, look at the time. I have to go. Have fun. You need a new password as well, Bob.”
As Yelena left, you sat back on the bed, picking at the edge of your phone case, eyes not leaving the man in front of you. His eyes were darting between you, the phone in your hand and his phone he had nearly dropped when Yelena threw it at him.
“So … i think i know how I have your number, it’s kinda my job to keep track of everyone's phone number for Val” You broke the silence, adjusting so you were now sitting cross-legged. “I don’t think I typed it in properly, though.” The bark of laughter that came from Bob eased some of the tension in the room.
“What was it supposed to be? Still haven’t worked that out”
“Avengers Robert.”
“I kinda like your string of letters more. Makes it special”
“Yeah,” Bob had moved closer to you as the two of you spoke, he was now standing in front of you.
“You said I should be honest last night right? Do you still think that?”
“Uh … Yeah, honesty is good.” You slowly untangled your legs and stood up, now standing toe to toe with him. Looking up at Bob, you finally got a good look at him. You had seen photos in his file when doing admin work for Val, but seeing him in person was a whole other ball game. Pretty blue eyes, soft features and fluffy brown hair. Your hands reached up to rest on his shoulders, stretching up and pressing a kiss to his lips. It was hesitant and barely there, but it conveyed the emotions you had kept hidden. Feeling him tense, you pulled back slightly and stared up at him.
“Uh -
“I like you, Robert Reynolds.”
Bob stared at you for what felt like an eternity. Slowly, you started to withdraw your hands, and the fear that your touch would disappear from him forever caused Bob to just react and not think. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him, tilting his head so he could claim your lips in a desperate kiss. Unlike your kiss, which had been gentle and hesitant, this was full of unspoken promises and a need to be closer, trying to convey every feeling that he had been suppressing to you without words. You quickly responded to the kiss, matching his fervour with equal enthusiasm and passion, arms snaking up around his shoulders and fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. With a slight tug at the strands of hair, Bob gasped and stumbled, causing the two of you to fall back onto your bed. Given his reflexes due to training with the team, Bob was able to catch himself before he landed on top of you, but as he looked down at the sight of you, wide-eyed and with freshly kissed lips staring up at him, he believed this was heaven. Your arms were still wrapped around his neck, and you tugged him down, pressing another kiss to his lips before pulling away. “I take it you feel the same way?”
“Definitely. I like you too.” He whispered your name like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, adjusting the two of you now so you were both lying comfortably on the bed. You had removed your hands from his hair and now linked your fingers through his as he rested his head on your chest.
“Yelena’s never going to let us live this down.”
“That’s fine. She and Amara can keep their teasing going for as long as they like. As long as we can stay like this.”
“Deal”
Both of you had been right. Yelena had gone in to check on the two of you when neither of you appeared out of the room for a while. When she went to check, she saw the two of you curled up on your bed asleep, the TV in your room faintly playing Great British Bake Off in the background. Yelena had shared the news with everyone, finally giving the team answers to why Bob had been glued to his phone for the past few weeks and even managed to get Amara’s number to share the details with. Even though she teased, she was happy; she could see how happy Bob had been since you came into his life. Plus, finally having the upper hand on you was a nice ace up her sleeve. She hoped that the two of you ended up sleeping well, because she knew the team was going to have an absolute blast teasing their technically strongest member come morning.
I don't know what Freddie Stroma is putting in his cereal but he looks even better in the second season than he did the first and I've fully accepted and now love the new hair
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Quick note!: I wasn't going to post the first chapter of my little fic for a while, as I've been on a long ass no laptop vacation and haven't written much. However, because of some MF coming after my glorious Adrian Chase writers, I wrote this all in the car. I love you all, NEVER stop writing, and I hope you enjoy getting a feel for my writing style. ❤️❤️
Kiss me now. Kill him later.
(Adrian Chase x reader)
Summary: You’ve spent your life hating yourself for the things you’ve done. The people you've hurt One man saw the good in you, and you lost him. Now you want blood, but an oddly charming man might make you lose sight of your target. It's up for you to decide between vengeance and your hope of change.
Or, for short, the reader watched Chris kill Rick Flag and wanted to avenge him. If only Adrian wasn't so weirdly endearing. Whoops. 😛
(I suck at summaries lmao.)
Word Count: 2.6k
Content Warnings: Past violence, references to emotional trauma, standard Peacemaker violence, author REALLY likes writing flashbacks, emotional distress, reader is an absolute hater, moral ambiguity, author sucks at writing, and employment [YIKES].
Chapter 1: Target in Sight (1/5)
You knew Chris first. Way before you knew the 11th Street Kids. Way before they even existed. If a stranger claimed you disliked Chris, it would only be an understatement. When his name or anything that leads back to him comes up, you feel your heart drop, and everything becomes dizzy with this immeasurable amount of rage.
You had first met him when you were assigned to Task Force X. He was a total dick, yapping on and on about how he would do anything to bring peace to the world. You’ve been around your fair share of men like him, so it was never much of an issue. Just enough to make him back off, you had undermined his ego.
However, you failed to realize that he was worse than some egotistical dickwad. He was just a tool.
Rick and Chris were fighting, hell-bent on murdering each other for reasons unknown to you. You hid behind a broken wall, but still kept your eyes on the fight.
The two men were throwing each other around, and you soon realized they were fighting over a red disc.
Rick had struck Chris down with a pipe and sluggishly straddled him. Yet Rick pressed the pipe against Chris’s throat with a determined speed, winning the fight. Rick slammed Chris’s head into the ground, putting him in a daze.
Chris was struggling. His hand was grasping at the floor around him and gripped a jagged piece of tile. The Peacemaker wasted no time and jammed it into Rick Flag’s chest.
Both men finally paused. They just looked at each other. Rick broke the silence.
“Peacemaker. What a joke.” He said with his final breath before he went limp.
Chris rolled over, letting Rick’s corpse fall to the ground. You stayed hidden behind the wall, shocked. Your heart was beating at a pace you had never thought possible as you tried to comprehend what had just happened. Rick Flag was dead. Right as you were about to lunge at him, Chris’s head slowly rose towards the wall opposite the one you were hiding behind.
Through the metal reinforcements, you saw Cleo. She held Chris’s gaze for a bit before looking down at the red disc. She snatched it up immediately.
“Cleo,” Chris says. “Give me back the drive.”
She doesn’t respond and bolts out through the hall. Chris grabs his gun and chases after her.
A beat passed before you rushed after them. Chris would not harm Cleo, not if you could help it. Especially not after he killed Rick.
The mission wasn’t long at all, but you bonded with Cleo almost instantly. You both chalked it up to shared experiences. You had never really had that kind of friendship before, so you were not about to lose it now.
You followed them quietly through the dark stairwell. At least you thought you did, but the adrenaline messed with your senses too much for proper thoughts.
After several flights of stairs, you bolted through a doorway into the area with the disintegrated ceiling. The first thing you saw was Chris towering over Cleo, gun pointed at her face.
“I told you that information can’t get out!” Chris screamed. “Fuck,” He sounded distraught, like his actions pained him. His audacity made you feel sick.
“So, okay, okay, destroy the hard drive. Why kill me?” Cleo asked, words heavy. Chris’s head hung in deep thought before he looked at her again.
”I’m through.” Chris clicked the safety off, and at that moment, you felt all the cells in your brain click off as well. You lunged at Chris, grabbing his right arm and pressing one of your sickles against his neck.
“So am I.” You snickered.
Chris quickly settled any surprise that you tossed at him and fell back, pinning you against the floor and his back. You only pressed the sickle harder against his Adam's apple. The sharp blade was cutting into his thick skin. Blood beaded out.
With all the strength Chris could muster, he gripped both of your arms and flipped you over. Your head slammed against the hot concrete, making you dizzy. You tried jumping back into the fight, but your body hit the floor once more. Chris slowly climbed back to his feet and stood over you, almost waiting for you to fight back.
“Fuck,” you groaned. Your hand instinctively grabbed your head, but you quickly pulled it back from the pain. Your hand was red.
“Why did you have to jump in?” Chris asked with a frown. His hands were at his waist.
“Friends help their friends.” You scowl, giving a swift blow to his groin. Chris teetered back. “Nice to know where your loyalties lie, Peacemaker.” Your voice was full of malice.
The concrete above you was dropping. You quickly looked over at Cleo. Her hands were still bracing her face. Your head whipped back towards Chris. He only stared before walking back to Cleo, slowly raising his silver gun at her.
You felt your blood run cold, if you had any left in you at the rate you were bleeding. You got on your hands and knees, lifting yourself. Your knees buckled under you as you took a step forward.
“Whose peace are you protecting, Chris?” You murmur as you grab your last sickle. You raise your arm, intending to slice some part of him.
With a massive crash, the building stopped crumbling down. You lost sight of Peacemaker as you saw Bloodsport land in the center of the broken concrete. Bloodsport looks down at Peacemaker’s gun and how it’s pointed at Cleo, then at you with your sickle, slicing against Peacemaker’s shoulder.
It took them ten seconds before firing at each other. After a beat, blood covered Peacemaker’s suit, and Bloodsport was unscathed.
You thought that was the last of him at Corto Maltese. When Bloodsport shot Chris, leaving him to bleed out, you thought he was dead, or at least struggling to take his final breaths. When you saw a building collapse on top of his body, you knew the Peacemaker was dead. There was no other realistic scenario.
It’s been a few months since then. You were lying low, staying in crappy motels, until you could figure some things out. What those were exactly, you didn’t know. The freedom was nice. You weren’t used to the uncertainty, as it was both calming and frightening.
You were about to fall asleep when the TV switched from static to a live program. A news anchor cuts in with breaking news and begins rambling on about Peacemaker.
Your eyes shoot open, and your blood runs cold. Christopher Smith’s face appears on the tiny screen. The header read “FORMER CRIMINAL TURNED SAVIOR OF EARTH.” Peacemaker is being branded as a hero. Something about aliens or butterflies. The anchorwoman’s words blurred together as rage consumed you.
They all claim that the Peacemaker had changed. That he was trying to improve himself. That he was trying to be a hero. They said a lot of things. Yet you knew they were all full of shit. Rick was still dead. His blood stained the Peacemaker’s hands, and you wanted vengeance.
Your body shakes. How could he have survived that? You grab the remote as an earlier press conference airs. The brain fog quickly dissipates when she mentions Waller. You reach some clarity as you slowly remember that everything leads back to that woman. You thought you got away from her, from everything, but the past always comes back to haunt you. It’s the law of life.
The sigh you let out was audible as you grasped your face. You grab the remote, turning the TV off, after you see Chris’s face again. To calm yourself, you glance around the room, trying to find something to distract yourself. Your eyes instantly latch onto your old laptop, and the cogs start turning. You can find Chris yourself. You can finish what you should’ve ended.
Your computer whirs to life when you open the lid. A quick tap unlocked it, bringing up your homescreen. It was a picture of yourself and your mom, a random candid photo of the two of you laughing together as your mother held onto you. The memory made your heart swell.
You clicked the email icon and found a good friend’s contact. An ex-ARGUS techie you had complimented once, which led to a strange companionship. MARCELO. You didn’t know much about them, only that they were good at staying anonymous and even better at gathering information. Naturally, when you befriend a tech genius, you ask for a favor or two.
You type out your request immediately. ‘Peacemaker is alive, and I need to find him. What can you tell me about him? Please, MARCELO, I need your help.’
After you looked over the message, you hit send, hoping they still used that contact information. The tab closes, and the screen returns to your home screen. That picture of you and your mother.
Ever since you can remember, you have always wanted to be a person who changes something for the better. Someone good. Your childhood in Gotham was a big part of that desire.
Your mother struggled to take care of you as you grew up. She made little money, working at a shitty 24/7 hour diner across the street from your apartment. Your even shittier landlord didn’t help at all when he refused to fix the giant hole in your bedroom ceiling, or anything really.
So you grew up with one mentality. You were going to make a change. If not for the world, at least for your mother. You quickly became a star student, acing everything that you could. Everything you couldn’t be great at, you tried your hardest to improve in. Getting a full-ride scholarship to Gotham University was easy once the admission officers reviewed your application. That was when you met Professor Jonathan Crane.
It was your senior year at Gotham U. You had finished the large majority of your graduating requirements, only 10 or so credits away from your degree. You decided to take a psychology class. It seemed interesting enough, something to do with fear and what it does to the human psyche. You didn’t expect much from the class. It was only a way to fix the credit issue.
On the first day, it all shocked you. Professor Jonathan Crane started with a single statement, and something clicked.
“Everyone here is afraid of something.” He said bluntly. “If you disagree, drop the class.”
And that had you hooked for a reason you still can’t name. It didn’t take long for you to rise to the top in that class, not long at all. Life was finally leveling out until it didn’t. Your midterms were coming up, and they had you stressed. They were all excruciatingly tedious projects, and what made it worse was that they were to be done in groups.
So instead of studying in peace at the diner your mom worked at, you were forced to work in the overcrowded library.
A meeting with one of your groups ended a few minutes ago with a dramatic finish, and you were eager to get back home and tell your mother everything. Your stomach growled as you stepped out of the library. You hadn’t eaten in a few hours, only surviving on cheap energy drinks to get through the day.
It was close enough to dinnertime, so you whipped your phone out and dialed your mother’s cell. It rang four times before going to voicemail. You figured she was just busy, but your gut was still suspicious. You waited for the beep.
“Hey, Mom!” You chirped excitedly. “I know you’re probably busy right now, but I just wanted to call. A guy in my group started fighting with another guy in the group, so the meeting ended early. I think it was over some girl who was playing them both, but who knows?” You laughed.
“I think I’m going to head down to the diner, so you don’t have to call back. If you, uh, even hear this voicemail before calling me back. I love you, Mom!” You hung up quickly as your bus arrived. The diner was only a few stops away.
When you arrived, there were flashing lights everywhere. Ambulances. Cops cars. Even a firetruck. You frantically ran out of the bus once it stopped.
“Mom!” you screamed, trying to dodge all the paramedics. You eventually found her beaten and bruised, on a stretcher outside an ambulance.
“Holy shit, what happened to you?” you asked, panic rising in your throat. A quick confirmation of who you were later, and the paramedics started telling you everything. A drunk wandered into the diner and turned violent, picking your mother as his main target. No one knew his motive, but at least he was in custody.
Your mother was in the hospital for a month after that. She sustained some traumatic injury to the head, and the doctors put her in a drug-induced coma.
The medical bills were drowning you, and it reflected in everything else you did. You started arriving late for classes, and suddenly, you were thankful for group projects, as you didn’t bomb any of your midterms. You doubted anyone had noticed your abrupt absence until Professor Crane asked you one day. He was curious why his former star student went AWOL.
“You’ve been distracted,” Crane states, his lanky stature casting a shadow over the whiteboard.“That’s unlike you.”
The classroom had emptied quickly, leaving only the two of you. The silence felt suffocating.
“My mother is in the hospital.” You quietly answer, rubbing your arms to fight the chill. “I’m trying to make sure she has a home to come back to.”
Crane tilts his head, almost analyzing you. “You need money.” He concludes, his voice like silk. “I need precision and confidentiality."
“I don’t understand.” You look at him with your eyebrow raised. The irony hits you hard. He wasn’t acting like himself either.
“I have a job for you.” He says, taking a long step forward. “Generous weekly stipend in cash. You will organize financial records and track shipments for research.”
You agreed instantly. Desperation decided for you. This was your lifeline. You were distracted enough by his offer that you didn’t ask any other questions.
Crane didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed pleased. He had a rather eerie smile at your immediate acceptance.
‘How bad could it possibly be?’ you asked yourself then. It’s only numbers and paper.
You know now what a mistake it was. One that you will never stop regretting. You still hear his voice late at night. You did need money, but now you feared that you owed a lot more.
A soft ding from your laptop breaks you from your spiral. MARCELO emailed you back. You rush to click the notification.
‘I got your back, Grim. :P’ It read. A link to a PDF file was right below the text. You open the PDF, but the majority of the information is outdated. Once you reached the end of the PDF, a note was left for you.
‘Peacemaker is dust in the wind. His buddy, though? A walking GPS. LOL.’ MARCELO also included a picture of some weirdo in a blue costume and a red visor. Vigilante. MARCELO was always the quirky sort, yet never wrong.
“Alright, Vigilante.” You whisper to yourself. “I’m going to find you, and you’re going to lead me to your friend.” You scroll back up to Peacemaker’s last known location. Evergreen, his hometown.
Your smile spreads wide with delight. One little obstacle until you get your revenge.
Note: I hope you guys enjoyed it. I really liked writing this chapter. I haven't written since my middle school Creepypasta phase. Let me know if you guys want this to be a long shot or a book with chapters. Lots of love!!! ❤️❤️
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Description: While analyzing space plants in Sue’s lab, you get infected with sex pollen. Johnny, hotshot, flirty as hell, and definitely not yours (yet) starts looking a little too good in those tight pants. You try to fight it, until you find yourself begging him to save you.
Tags/warnings: no movie spoilers. fem!reader, sex pollen, smut, johnny loves to flirt and tease, long buildup, yearning, tension, hands kink, begging, praising, fingering, oral fem rec, piv, multiple rounds.
Note: It’s getting hot in here or is it just me? 🙂↕️ I couldn’t help myself, needed to make another one of these with my man Johnny🔥 also I know this is very long but this is porn with juicy plot lmao, enjoy 🫶🏼
archive / masterlist
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Working at the Baxter Tower had always been the dream. Years of research in botanical science had finally paid off when Sue Storm called, inviting you to study alien plant specimens from their latest space mission. It was everything you’d ever wanted.
And of course, becoming friends with her after months of working together came with many open doors, and benefits. And one of them was her brother.
Johnny Storm.
Blonde, charming to the core, unfairly handsome, way smarter than he let on. Quite the hotshot. Literally. And infuriatingly interested in you the moment you stepped into the building.
Sue said he hadn’t set foot near her lab in months. Now he dropped by almost daily with flimsy excuses, snacks, oxygen checks, dumb questions about leaf colors, all paired with a flirty comment and that unfairly pretty smile.
You rolled your eyes. Every time.
You also got flustered. Every time.
And he noticed. Every time.
And as much as you tried to convince yourself not to fall for his charm, it was practically impossible when he showed up in the middle of the day with some chips and those pretty blue eyes, saying something about how your lab coat fit you particularly nicely that day. You swore you weren’t falling for it. Not for him. Because he flirted with everyone. That’s who he was.
Still, that didn’t stop your heart from skipping whenever he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.
Thankfully, he wasn’t around this time, so you could totally focus on your work with Sue.
"Okay! batch 5FA's tests are catalogued and processed, programming a check in tomorrow. Let's go with batch 5FB," Sue announced, storing the studied samples inside an isolated chamber.
"Batch 5FB is here. Thank you HERBIE," you smiled as the adorable robot placed a glass box with a metal base on the counter in front of you.
You were running a second round of tests on previously labeled specimens, checking for possible medicinal uses. You pressed the button on the base and the glass dome lifted in a soft hiss, releasing a small cloud of white fog from the chamber's interior.
Sue turned her attention to her tablet, scrolling through the database for any notes on these samples. But before she could find any, all the lights went out. All systems stopped working, including the heating.
"Not again," she groaned, setting the tablet down and standing up to head out, no doubt to scold her husband for running experiments during your lab hours.
She stormed off the room, using a soft glow of energy to guide her, leaving you alone in the dark.
Now where was Johnny Storm when you needed him?
If he weren't outside, probably absorbing flames from a burning building, you were sure he'd already be here. Flaming on with that smug smirk before Sue could even reach Reed's lab.
Maybe it was your imagination, but moments like this always felt colder when the golden sun who made it his mission to orbit you... wasn't there.
You lifted your arm to check the watch device on your wrist, one that Johnny had insisted you got 'in case of an emergency', but he just wanted you to have it to continue flirting with you when he wasn't around in the lab. This time being no exception, there was a message from him.
🔥: Will bring some snacks later, I’m sure you look delightful as always. Don’t miss me too much ;)
You rolled your eyes and shook your head amused, locking the watch before you got too caught up staring at the contact photo, set by him, obviously, when he prepared the device for you.
The lights suddenly flickered back on, and the heat kicked back in. Sue re entered the lab, looking proud of herself.
"The next time that happens, he's never hearing the end of it," she muttered, rolling her eyes with a smirk as she made her way back and you chuckled. "Now, shall we?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the samples.
"I have a feeling this is a promising batch," you joked, eyeing the boring looking plants.
First mistake of the day.
You both got to work, moving in sync through the usual process. It was routine, nothing outside the ordinary, but for some reason ... you began feeling uneasy.
It started with your fingers, a soft, harmless tingle spreading up. You frowned, brushing the sudden sheen of sweat from your forehead with your sleeve.
Was the heating overcompensating? You could swear the room was warmer.
Before you could say anything to Sue, who was still calmly swabbing samples, a familiar scent hit you, making you freeze in place.
First, something intoxicatingly warm and smoky. Then, a devastatingly familiar cologne you knew too well who it belonged to.
Johnny?
Your head snapped around, expecting him to be standing right behind you. That would certainly explain the sudden heat increase, the scent. His scent.
But there was no one there.
"What the hell," you whispered, scanning the lab for any sign of him. Maybe it was another one of his dumb pranks?
Your heart skipped a beat, then started pounding. You turned around fully this time, eyes searching frantically across the room for a possible fire you could be missing.
The smell of smoke was too strong, so much that the air felt heavier. Johnny's crazy theory about the plants affecting the room's oxygen suddenly didn't feel so dumb anymore.
Oh, Johnny.
Those blue eyes. That stupid grin. Those hands. Those tight pants outlining his– wait.
What the actual hell was that thought?
And worse, why did it help?
You didn't get the chance to question your thoughts any further, because the door hissed open, and he walked in. Casual as ever, carrying two drinks and a bag of chips.
"Snack delivery," Johnny called out with a smile, tossing you a wink before turning his attention to HERBIE at the entrance. "Hey, little guy. Miss me?"
He placed the things on a counter next to the door, and crouched down beside the robot, scratching the top of the metal head affectionately. You heard Sue sighing annoyed beside you, but your complete focus was on him.
Because now you were watching him laugh, his eyes crinkling, his forearms flexing as he leaned casually on his knees, and you weren't just staring, you were obsessing. The way his fingers traced little circles into HERBIE's side. A deep red jacket hugging his frame. The outline of his toned chest under that fitted t-shirt. The way his jeans fit when he crouched like that.
Jesus Christ.
You blinked hard, turning away so fast you nearly knocked over a tray of samples.
What the hell was going on?
You weren't even looking at him anymore and still, you could feel him. Smell it. The smoke, and something warm and sweet and masculine. Something him. Stronger now, like it was clinging to the inside of your lungs. You inhaled slowly, carefully, biting your lips to keep a whine from coming out.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him stand stretching lazily, arms overhead, shirt riding up just a little too far. You stared at the plant in your hand like it was the most fascinating thing you'd ever seen, praying Sue wouldn't turn around and notice your soul leaving your body.
"I was right, you look absolutely delightful today," Johnny said casually, leaning over the counter by the door.
You dropped the sample.
Sue did turn around this time, raising an eyebrow as you fumbled to grab it. You knew he flirted like breathing, you got used to it. But not now. Not when this indescribable heat was pooling between your thighs.
"Thanks," you muttered, not trusting yourself to look at him. Because if you did, if you dared, you were about one compliment away from grabbing him by the collar and climbing him like a tree.
And apparently, your body agreed. You squeezed your thighs together, pulse hammering in your ears, because why did that compliment feel like he'd whispered it right against your skin?
"Here you go," his voice startled you when he appeared next to you, placing a can of soda and a bag of chips on the table.
And then he had the audacity to lean on the counter, tapping his long fingers rhythmically on some equipment as he peeked over your work.
It shouldn't be that hot. It's just fingers. It's just tapping.
But god, those hands...
"Did you–did you wear more cologne today?" you asked before you could stop yourself.
Dammit.
Johnny straightened up in his spot, eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Actually no, I forgot it today," he said, then tilted his head with a smirk. "Why? Do I smell nice?"
"No–I mean, you don't smell bad. Or good. It's just... nothing," you shut yourself up before you could continue rambling.
"Uh-huh. You okay, doc?" he asked, a smirk on his face as innocently chewed on a chip. "You look kind of sweaty."
You turned around halfway to the opposite side, facing Sue instead. Safety zone. Sue was safe. Science. Plants.
But even she was watching you with narrowed eyes now. Like she knew. Like she sensed the shift in the air, the pheromones steaming from your body.
"You're flushed," Sue said, leaning closer with a concerned frown. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine," you blurted. "Totally fine. Just warm. The heating came back on really strong, right?"
"You can always take off that pretty lab coat, let us see that cute skirt of yours."
Fuck.
You were going to kill him. Or jump his bones. Or both. You turned your attention back to the plants, and you could feel both siblings' eyes drilling on the sides of your head.
"Don't look at me right now," you whispered, more to Johnny than Sue. "It's distracting, seriously. Don't–"
"Wait–am I making you nervous?" he teased, squinting playfully. "You usually want to kick me out, what's up with you?"
"Nothing. Leave."
"Oh, now you want me out? You're being weird today."
"You're weird every day," you snapped.
He didn't seem to be bothered by your attitude, if anything it made him want to try harder to see how much he could get on your nerves. Satisfied with your flustered reaction, he decided to walk across the lab to grab something from the spot he'd initially been in, but thankfully, got distracted by the robot again.
Sue narrowed her eyes at you the whole time, before turning back to her tablet. "I'm pulling the preliminary scans. Something feels off."
Something was definitely off. You were practically vibrating. If Johnny got any closer again you were not going to be responsible for your actions.
You forced yourself to focus on breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Ignore Johnny's stupid laugh and his stupid biceps as he played with herbie in the background.
"Oh no," Sue gasped, staring at her tablet, and your stomach dropped.
"What?" you whispered, trying to keep Johnny oblivious to it, stepping toward her. "What oh no?"
She turned the tablet just enough for you to read the highlighted results from batch 5B.
Pheromone compound found. Induces increased arousal in subjects, mental fixation on known desires, and irrational impulses toward selected partners. Triggered by sudden light and temperature changes. Potentially dangerous if not treated.
You blinked once. Then again.
"Did I just get hit with sex pollen?!" You whisper shouted. Sue just nodded, feeling sorry for you, at least her modified DNA kept her safe from it.
Suddenly it all made sense.
The heat. The way your skin was buzzing. The uncomfortable pressure building low in your stomach. And God help you, the way your brain couldn't stop fixating on Johnny Storm.
"What's with the whispering? Are you talking about me?" behind you, Johnny shouted from his spot, and you could hear the grin in his voice.
"Don't come over here!" You turned and pointed at him in panic. "We're ... working."
He raised both hands, amused and quite confused. "I was just gonna ask if you wanted the sour cream chips too–"
"Do not say cream right now!" you snapped, turning back to Sue like she was your lifeline. "Sue, get him out of here. Now."
"Why?"
"Because he's annoying, and I can't deal with that right now," you lied, straight in her face, because the reason you needed him gone was if he said one more thing about your skirt ...
"Right, okay." She nodded. After all, this wasn't the first time she needed to kick out Johnny for both of your sake's.
She stormed toward the other end of the lab, clapping her hands. "Johnny. Out. Now."
"What? Why?" he blinked, feigning hurt. "I was just ... HERBIE and I were having a bonding moment–"
"Out. We need to work in peace." She pointed to the door, glaring at him.
He raised his hands in surrender, but that smug grin never left his face.
"Alright, alright, I'm going, damn. Don't miss me too much." He winked as he walked backwards out the door. "But if you do, you know where to find–"
The door hissed shut on his face. You groaned, leaning against the counter.
"Sex pollen lasts around twelve hours. At least, as far as I know. But if it doesn't get solved, what happens?"
"Well..." she hesitated.
"Sue?"
"Your nervous system could crash. You're not just... horny, you're chemically overwhelmed. Your dopamine's probably through the roof. If it gets worse, you could faint. Or ...worse."
"Worse? Oh my god," you gulped. "So I just ... die?”
"It will only feel like that."
"Only? Oh my God. Oh my God."
"Don't panic!"
"Don't tell me not to panic!"
"Okay, okay, sorry," she apologized, scrolling through the information again. "Listen, the data says it gives you fixation on selected partners, so that's probably who you're being drawn to right now. You could get them to, you know ...help you."
You froze. No. It can't be happening. Not like this.
"You do have someone in mind, right?" She glanced up from her tablet, questioning.
You didn't answer. Her eyes narrowed.
"Wait ... who is it?"
No answer, again. But Sue Storm didn't need you to say it. All she had to do was study your state. Dilated pupils, the slight tremble of your hands, not being able to stay still. And the way all of that seemed to have gotten worse when her brother walked in the room.
Her jaw dropped with realization. "No," she said horrified, gaze drifting to the door.
"Yes," you whispered, mortified, hands covering your face from embarrassment. "It's not my fault! Everything he does makes me wanna–"
"Ew! Stop–stop talking!" She made a gagging motion. "Gross, that's my baby brother!"
"I know! Do you think I wanted this?" You groaned into your hands, and she sighed dramatically.
"I'm going to find Reed, he might be able to create a suppressant or something. But listen to me, this stuff can escalate fast, especially if you don't get any release. So maybe just... maybe just call him, okay?"
"What?" You stared at her in horror.
"Only if it gets worse! I'm not saying do anything, don't tell me if you do ... actually I don't want to know anything about it ever," she scowled, walking backwards to the door, making HERBIE follow her.
"Sue–"
"Bye! Good luck! Don't die!" And with a last apologetic smile, she was gone.
You were so fucked.
Not literally, unfortunately.
There was no one here to stop you from spiraling now. No one to distract you. Just the echo of Johnny's stupid laugh in your head and the phantom trace of his hand all over the lab's equipment.
You've been around him all week. He was always touching things, sometimes just to piss Sue off. Flicking paperclips while saying you looked pretty. Tapping those fingers of his on every damn surface before someone kicked him out.
Why were you so fixated on his hands?
"Known desires." Pft. As if. You groaned softly, pressing your thighs together like that was going to help.
It didn't.
"You've gotta be kidding me," you whispered to the empty lab, remembering what Sue told you about calling ... him.
Don't you dare. It's just fake heat. He's not yours. You can't call him because you're desperate.
You sat on the edge of your stool and gripped the edge of the counter, trying to stay grounded. Trying to breathe. Constantly shifting your hips against the leather in hopes of relief. It didn't help. Nothing helped.
Your body was screaming for him. Only for him.
Maybe you could relieve yourself.
Taking a deep breath, you slipped your free hand under the waistband of the skirt, gasping when your shaky fingers fumbled against your dripping folds. You gripped the table harder, nails hurting against the hard countertop, as the fingers inside you moved erratically.
Maybe if you just pretended it was him ...
He was all you could think about after all. The way his voice went lower when he said your name, the restraint he showed around you keeping his hands to himself, or the times he watched you from the corner of the lab, sat on a stool, legs spread wide in those unfairly tight pants waiting for you to sit on them.
Oh, Johnny.
What would you do to have him ask 'Where does it hurt?' and then kiss it better. To have him all over you. Touching you. Whispering something hot and stupid while his mouth kissed down your stomach. The way his hands would feel, how his warm grip would hold your thighs open and–
No.
Fantasies weren't enough. Your fingers weren't enough. It was getting worse, actually, the tension building up in your body made it more painful.
"Come on, this is not happening," you yanked your hand back, staring at the ceiling in utter defeat. "I'm not gonna sit here and finger myself over Johnny Storm like a lunatic."
You covered your face with both hands, groaning. You were dripping. Actually dripping. And no matter what you tried, it just made you want him more.
Twelve hours. You had twelve hours of this.
Unless ...
No.
The moment you saw him again you'd explode from shame and arousal at the same time.
You inevitably glanced over the watch on your wrist. The one Johnny himself synced to his, so you could instantly patch through no matter where he was in the world.
But right now, your salvation was probably no further than three floors down.
You knew he would come the second you called. God, he'd come running. He'd probably make a joke out of it. ‘What, you miss me that bad?’ and then he'd see it in your face.
The need. The desperation. The lack of self control.
And maybe, just maybe ... he'd understand.
"Please... I don't know what else to do, " your hesitant finger slowly reached the small screen, and hovered over Johnny Storm's name.
His contact picture made you press it instantly.
The device beeped only once, and then his voice came through.
"Miss me already?" His voice was light, amused. "Or did Sue set the lab on fire? ... see this is why I should always be there."
Your whole body twitched, relief and panic crashed over you in one brutal wave. He was joking. Of course he was. You could picture the smile in his voice, that stupid glint in his eyes.
It calmed you, only for a second. Like his voice was water in the middle of a dessert.
"Johnny... I need you here. Right now," you blurted, trying your best not to sound like you were dying.
He paused for a moment, and then his heavy footsteps echoed through the call.
"I'm coming," he said immediately, no hesitation, no further questions asked. The comm went silent.
Okay now what? There's no turning back, he's gonna be here. He's actually gonna be here.
You began pacing again. You couldn't think straight, and the heat was getting worse. Because now your brain painted images of him.
Johnny storming into the lab, hair tousled from how fast he walked there, with that smug smile and probably a damn stupid comment.
And you'll have to look him in the eye and tell him why you called. Tell him you were burning. That nothing helped. That you needed him or you would die.
How the fuck do you say that out loud?
'Hi Johnny, so I inhaled a plant's weird space pollen and now I'm gonna lose my mind if you don't rail me on this table?'
You shook your head. Forced yourself to straighten up. Smoothed your skirt, your blouse. Fingers shaking through your hair. If you could just act normal, or look normal, maybe you could buy time. Maybe Sue would come back before anything happened.
Maybe you wouldn't fall apart the second he looked at you.
But before you could control your breathing, the door slid open. And in walked Johnny, with that maddening, stupidly beautiful smirk already on his face.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, stepping inside. "Locked up alone in the lab, calling me back here in a hushed voice... you naughty thing. Couldn't even last an hour without me?"
You didn't move, taking in how much stronger his scent was now. He tilted his head at you, mischief lighting up his eyes as he strutted forward.
"So what, you finally decided I was irresistible? Wanted a private show?" He wiggled his fingers, letting small flames come to life. "Because I do take requests, you know. Fireman, sexy lab assistant–"
"Johnny," you snapped, voice cracking.
Something shifted in your posture then, like all the heat finally caught up with you. You backed away, pressing your hands flat against the cold edge of the counter like it could anchor you. Your breathing got more erratic, and your knees actually buckled before you forced yourself upright again.
Johnny's playful expression changed.
"Hey, hey–" he instantly crossed the space between you, reaching out to hold you but stopped when you flinched away from him. "What's wrong? What happened?"
You shook your head, trying to speak, but nothing came out. Just a helpless sound, a frustrated whimper. Johnny took a cautious step closer, still without touching you.
"Are you hurt, sweetheart?" His voice softened, laced with worry.
Sweetheart?
Your ovaries screamed.
"Johnny, something is wrong ... really wrong with me," you whispered, finally turning to look at him with glassy eyes.
He frowned, worried. His gaze scanned you, the way you could barely hold yourself upright but refused to let him hold you. So his eyes drifted to the table to find a possible reason, landing on the lit tablet, the screen still displaying the information.
"Johnny wait–"
Before you could stop him, he picked it up and scrolled through the content, eyes going wide. He paused, stared and read the entry again. And again. His mouth opened, trying to get a joke out of it, but the shock wouldn't let him.
"...it's pollen," he finally said, voice cracking like a boy hitting puberty again. "Sex pollen? You got hit with horny powder."
"Don't call it that," you groaned, covering your face with your hands from embarrassment.
Johnny looked down at your flushed skin, the sweat glistening on your collarbone, the way you couldn't even stand still anymore, and all of it clicked.
Holy shit. It was fucking sex pollen. He'd read about it before, but never thought he would have it in front of him.
That you would have it in front of him.
"Wait," he blurted, staring back at the tablet. "Wait wait wait–"
You peeked through your fingers, just in time to see him re reading the entry. His eyes went wide, in a mixture of surprise and something else.
"Known desires... selected partners," he mumbled the words, and then, he looked up at you with impossibly hopeful eyes and a grin on his face, “Me?"
You didn't answer him right away, you couldn't. You were sure this was the moment you fainted.
"I didn't know what to do," you whispered. "Sue left and I ... God, Johnny, I tried to fight it, I swear. But I couldn't think, and you were the only one I–"
"Hey," Johnny cut you softly, slowly closing the distance, your bodies barely grazing together. "Look at me."
You didn't.
"Come on," he coaxed, just a little softer. "You're okay. I got you."
Your eyes lifted to his, and the heat behind them made your stomach twist. He wasn't smirking anymore. No teasing, just him, present and very aware of what he was causing on you.
You hated that it only made things worse.
"I didn't know what to do," you whispered. "I can't think. I can't breathe."
He stared at you for a moment, hesitant.
"What do you need me to do?" he asked, genuinely. His hands were still on his sides, like his restraint was a question you could still say no to.
"God, I don't even know what I need," You let out a shaky laugh, half delirious, half desperate.
"Sure you do," he said quietly, like it was the easiest answer in the world. "You called me."
Your mouth parted, but no sound came out. So you nodded, because you did.
And then, just like that, his hand finally reached to your waist. Just his warm hand, barely even getting there, but your body snapped like he just sent electricity through your whole body.
You gasped, stumbling back, nearly knocking over the stool. Johnny quickly steadied you with both hands now, eyes wide.
"Okay, okay–that sensitive?" he chuckled breathlessly, like he still couldn't wrap his head around what was happening. "Not that I'm complaining, but usually when I flirt with you, you roll your eyes and then you kick me out."
But you weren't rolling your eyes now. Not yet, at least.
"Yeah I'm just ..." you mumbled, breathless. Skin burning with the feeling of his hands on your waist, warm even through your clothes, staring up at him like he hung the stars. "I feel like I'm burning alive and you're the only one who can put it out."
For the first time in his life, Johnny didn't know what to say back.
It's not like his fantasy of having you spread over the lab counter was starting to become a reality. Only if you said it. If you wanted him to.
God, if you really asked him he would please you in any way possible.
"Johnny..." you whined to get his attention. Your pupils were blown wide, lashes fluttering, eyes glassy with unshed tears you couldn't stop at this point. "It hurts, do–do something ... anything."
"Hey, hey, it's okay. I said I got you–"
His hands cupped your face, impossibly warm against your already overheated skin. You leaned into them like you needed it, like you've been starved of touch for hours.
His touch.
And you stared at him, he was beautiful and hot and close, and your whole body leaned forward like a magnet. Like it knew it needed him. Because all you could see was him.
The concern in his eyes. The way his thumbs traced your cheekbones so gently. The way he was so close and still not close enough.
You reached out with shaking fingers and grabbed the collar of his jacket, yanking him toward you until your chests collided, until all you could feel was his toned body on yours.
You exhaled like you just found oxygen.
He stumbled forward, instinctively wrapping his arms around your back, pressing you tighter to him.
"...You're serious," he whispered, lost in the way you seemed to be devouring him with your eyes. "You're really not okay."
You nodded, fists clenching in his jacket.
And without even thinking about it, you rubbed against him. Your body moved slowly, needy. Instinctively.
It was just a subtle graze, your hips grinding against his body for friction, for anything. And for the first time in the day you felt some kind of relief.
"Shit, baby," he cursed under his breath, almost groaning.
You made a soft, broken sound in your throat at the friction, at the way his thigh brushed yours, at the warmth of his skin through his clothes, at the scent of him everywhere.
Johnny choked on his own breath. He tightened his grip for a moment, just enough to keep you from moving further. You whined, at this point completely lost in the haze, but he kept you firmly in place.
"Sweetheart..." he started softly. "If we do this–if you really want this, I'm not walking away from you afterward. I'm not pretending this didn't happen."
"Me neither," you answered, a little too rushed.
But you meant it. You were tired of pretending him strutting into the lab wasn't your favorite part of the day. Tired of pretending you didn't want him.
"Please Johnny," you begged, hands moving to play with his hair, "I want you. All of you, today and everyday."
He looked stunned for a second, that 'please' shattering every bit of restraint he had left . He'd been wanting you since day one.
"That's my girl," his hands cradled your face with such devastating tenderness, making you forget the chaos in your blood, the desperation clawing under your skin.
And then, in a sudden move, he spun you around, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other held the back of your head. He bent over your frame, tilting your body backwards, like being swept into a cliche movie kiss, and crashed his lips into yours. You gasped into his mouth as one of your feet left the ground, with your weight safe in his arms, and clenched your fists on his hair. He kissed you hungry, reverent, like this was the moment he'd been waiting his whole damn life for.
You clung to his body like oxygen, letting yourself get lost in the smoke, in the devastating warmth of his body, in the way his tongue dominated over yours. He groaned over your lips, like he could taste your urgency. Until none of you could breathe anymore.
"That's how you do a first kiss," he mumbled against your lips, breathless and still maddening cocky.
You pressed your forehead to his, panting, dizzy, holding on to him like he was the only thing keeping you alive.
"Now show me how you do me."
Yeah, you were going to be the death of Johnny Storm.
That was enough for him. He pulled you upright, spinning you to lift you over the counter. He kissed you again, rougher this time, and with one arm knocked over what was on the counter so you would have more space.
Metal tools clashed loudly against the floor, plant samples tilted over, dirt spilling on the ground, and something definitely shattered.
"Shit," he laughed into your lips. "Sue's gonna kill me."
"Don't care," you panted, tugging on his jacket so he could get rid of it.
"Eager, are we?" he smirked, but complied in taking it off, taking a step back to throw it across the room.
Your eyes raked through his body, biting your lip at the way that white shirt cling to this toned chest.
He placed himself between your legs again, palms laying on your skin, and started drumming his fingers absentmindedly. Like he didn't know exactly what he was doing to you. Like the casual tap of each warm fingertip against your thigh wasn't setting your whole body on fire.
Your breath shuddered watching his hands.
And he noticed. Of course he did, his mouth curled into the softest, filthiest smile.
"Wait..." he said, mischief behind his eyes. "Hold on. Is it my hands? Is that what's doing it for you?
You swallowed hard, heart pumping in your chest. Your eyes darted to his fingers again, the ones teasing your skin a bit harder now. The ones you've thought about way too many times, in way too many ways.
His smirk grew when you didn't answer. He already knew.
Johnny's hand lifted behind your neck, coaxing your head back just enough so you were forced to meet his eyes, almost glowing golden fire with lust. The other trailed upward, knuckles brushing your chin before tracing the curve of your lips.
"Let me see that pretty mouth," he mumbled, and when your lips parted, he pushed two fingers inside, slow and steady.
You whimpered, pleading, eyes rolling back from tasting him. He just stared at you like he'd never seen anything hotter in his life.
"That's it... get them wet for you," Johnny breathed, thumb brushing your cheek as he watched you suck on them like a lifeline. "God, you're so hot."
He pulled his fingers free, glistening, and grinned like the absolute menace he was.
"Open your thighs for me."
You did, immediately, like your body belonged to ever command he made.
He slid his hand inside your skirt, the same one you just had in your mouth, reaching for your panties. You gasped when he finally touched you over the fabric, his fingers pressing between your legs, dragging slow and warm and perfect against your soaked underwear.
"Oh, fuck," he breathed. "Didn't even need it, you were already this wet for me, huh?"
You nodded, biting your lip. "I need you ... please,” the plea fell from your lips in a whisper. “Johnny … save me.”
Now he was staring at you like you hung the stars. Like having you wet, pleading, begging him to be your hero was a kink he never knew he had.
"Shit. Honey... I got you" he leaned in, like he couldn't get any closer. "I got you. I haven't even–fuck, I haven't even really started."
He slid your underwear aside and finally dipped his fingers into you, slow and gentle and so good you whimpered into his shoulder.
"There she is," he cooed. "God, you're so wet. So soft."
You clung to him, nails curling against the back of his neck. He groaned, obsessed with how desperate you were for him. You could barely breathe anymore, his slow pace was maddening, like he wanted to savor every reaction, every sound you made.
"So tight," he praised, kissing down your neck. "You feel so fucking good. You like that, baby?"
You moaned, a complete mess on top of that counter, and he grinned against your skin.
"Yeah you do. Look at you. Already a mess for me."
His other hand cradled your head again, keeping you close, anchoring you to him as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out, curling just right, his thumb starting to circle your clit, It was too much. But not enough.
"You were thinking about this, weren't you?" he teased, hot breath against your neck. "You wanted my fingers in you. Couldn't stop thinking about it."
He was right. He knows he was right.
"Don't worry," he groaned, licking a slow stripe along your throat. "They're all yours."
Every filthy sound of his wet fingers inside you, every whimper you made went straight to his bloodstream.
You were praying his name, over and over, until you fell apart on his hand, moaning, gasping, shaking, he kissed you through it, humming against your lips.
"That's it. Just like that, pretty girl. I got you."
You were breathless, clinging to him, and he didn't stop curling his fingers to feel how your walls clenched around him. He held you there, watching you come undone with pure adoration in his eyes, his free hand cupping your cheek, pressing kisses to your temple, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. Because even after wrecking you he was devastatingly tender.
"God, I could watch you fall apart all night," he cursed, watching your chest raise violently at your first release of the night.
He watched stunned, it was like he was bringing you back to life.
And it felt like that. Your body yearned for more, but before you could speak again, he pulled his fingers out, brought two to his mouth, slow and deliberate, sucking your wetness off them like he'd been starving for it. He groaned, like you were the best thing he'd ever tasted.
Your mouth parted, speechless, his eyes locked on yours as he licked them clean, and then slid those same fingers back inside you.
You gasped, back arching as he pumped a few more times, watching your body clench around him. Like he wanted more. Like you were his favorite experiment now.
"Here, you can have some too," he smirked, pulling them out and slipping them into your open mouth.
You moaned around his fingers, lashes fluttering, and Johnny swore nothing had ever wrecked him more than the sight of you, on top the counter, flushed and trembling, eyes wide and glassy, staring at him while you tasted yourself off his fingers.
"So good, isn't it?" He pulled his fingers from your mouth, but let his thumb drag over your bottom lip, pressing it down to see the way your pretty mouth stayed open for him, spreading some of your own cum.
Not a single sane thought left in your head. You needed him now more than ever.
"Johnny."
"Yes, babe?"
"Fuck me. Fuck me right now."
Something shifted behind his eyes. The smirk stayed, but there was a new weight to it now, dark, focused, possessive.
"You want me to save you?" he asked softly. His hand trailed down from your lip, past your throat, down your covered chest, your breasts, until it pressed flat against your stomach.
He slid you closer to the edge of the counter with a grunt, and you gasped when you felt his bulge, hot and heavy, pressing against your core through his pants.
"You don't know how long I've wanted you like this," he breathed against your lips, dragging his mouth down to your neck, sucking a mark just beneath your ear. "All spread out for me."
"You can have me, you can have all of me.”
"Yeah?" His lips curled into a smile against your throat. "You want it slow, baby, or do you want it how you begged for it?"
"Please, Johnny ..."
"Oh, sweetheart." He leaned back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and gleaming.. "You don't have to beg anymore."
He slid his shirt off with ease, showing off his chiseled golden body. His pants were next, hitting the floor in a quiet thud, and your shaky hands yanked his boxers down. His throbbing cock sprung up free, swollen, showing you how much your desperation had him painfully rock hard.
You had to fight every part of your being to not push him down and jump on his dick until you passed out from exhaustion. But before you could, he was already bunching up your skirt. You lifted your hips to slide it down, but he chuckled, pushing you down.
"No, no. The skirt stays on," he licked his lips. "Been dreaming about this for a while."
You gasped when he placed his tip on your entrance with one hand, giving it a few slaps like he was savoring every single second. And so were you.
He slid in slowly, inch by inch, mouth open against your shoulder, and he moaned. Johnny fucking Storm moaned. Because it was you. Because it was better than any dream he'd ever had. Better than he even imagined.
"Fuck," he groaned. "You feel so good–you're perfect, baby. You're perfect."
You cried out as he bottomed out, clinging to him, nails digging on his bare back, and he smiled, like he was trying to memorize every sound you made.
"That's it, let me hear you," he panted, slamming in so he could hear you yelp. "You sound so fucking good, baby. Look how you take me."
You buried your face in his neck, trembling as your legs lifted to wrap around his waist. To try and get him to go deeper.
"You've been driving me crazy for months," he grunted, slamming in again. "All those times you rolled your eyes at me? You have no idea what I was thinking."
It didn't take him longer to fuck into you, hard, immediately hitting that spot. You were already a moaning mess, fingers digging into his shoulders. With both hands he grabbed your blouse, and pulled to rip the fabric, snapping the buttons open. Next was your bra, like he finally decided he needed to see your skin bouncing with every thrust.
"I've wanted you ... needed you" he breathed, diving in to get lost in your chest. "For so long..."
And he showed you how much. With the way he sucked your nipples. With the way his hips snapped forward to make you gasp. With the way his hands roamed all over your body. Or the way he groaned into your neck as he pushed himself balls deep into your soaked pussy.
"Fuck– Johnny," you panted, head dropping back, "you're so big ... feels so good."
"Yeah?" he smirked against your skin, "too much already?"
"Never," you shook your head. "Harder, Johnny. Fuck me harder."
Yeah, this was definitely better than any fantasy he's ever had.
He smiled, god he smiled. Looking devilishly sweet while wrecking your entire body. Completely undoing you.
He picked up the pace, driving into you just right, hands gripping your hips like he owned them. Every thrust knocked another moan from your lips, and every moan made him laugh softly, like he couldn't believe how lucky he was to be inside you like this.
Your breath started getting shorter, nails digging deeper into his skin, and he felt the way your body was crashing under him.
"C'mon, sweetheart, I got you. Let go for me. Let me feel you." He groaned, and that was it.
You fell apart in his arms for the second time with a cry, pulsing around him, and Johnny just lost it. He kissed you hard, hips stuttering as he came inside you with a low, broken groan. His cum filled you deep. So warm, warmer than anybody's ever was.
And it drove you insane.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, your body arching to meet his, and Johnny leaned back just enough to look at you, eyes scanning your flushed face, your swollen lips, the blissed out haze in your eyes.
"You're beautiful like this," he said, running his thumb softly over your skin. "You know that? Fucking stunning. Never letting you go."
Now it's you smiling, dazed, lost in his eyes as you tried to catch your breath.
"You're everything Johnny," you whispered, your hands cradling his face. "You're so good to me."
He smiled, then leaned forward, catching your lips in a soft kiss. Your mouths moved like they knew each other. Like they belonged. And god he was a good kisser, but the pollen in your body made you crave for more.
You didn't mean to lunge, but the next thing you knew was you surged forward. Caught off guard, he stumbled backwards, holding your waist, your body landing on top of him as his back touched the floor.
Johnny was still panting from his high, from the kiss, and now he was sprawled out on the floor, chest rising and falling in aftershocks when you climbed closed to his face.
He looked up at you, stunned for a second, then grinned.
"You're not done with me yet, huh?" he placed both hands behind his head, biceps flexing. "Okay, don't let me stop you."
You grinned, kissing down his jaw, over his throat, his collarbone, your hands dragging down his toned chest like you needed to feel every inch of him again. His skin hot, like always, matching the fire rolling under your skin now. Your hips rolled instinctively against his thigh and he groaned, head tipping back.
"Shit–" he hissed, eyes squeezing shut. "Baby, gimme a second to –"
"I can't," you pouted, breath hot against his skin. "It's still burning ... I need more of you, Johnny."
"Oh... well," he said, lips curling into a crooked smile, "when you put it like that–"
You kissed him before he could finish, grinding down against him with reckless need, and he groaned, his hands flying to your hips.
"Okay, okay, fuck–" he breathed, eyes fluttering shut as your body moved against his. "You're not just using me for my stamina, are you?"
"Maybe a little," you chucked against his mouth, and he laughed.
"Fair enough."
"It just ... it still hurts."
"I know," he muttered. "I know, sweetheart. Let me help, yeah?"
He propped himself up with his elbows, one hand on your back as he flipped you over and placed you gently on the floor.
"Let me take care of you, just relax for me," he whispered, pressing his hands to open your thighs again. "I wanna taste you first ... Gotta get my strength back somehow, right?"
He slid down your body slowly, kissing his way across your ribs, your hips, trailing open mouthed heat everywhere until his face was between your thighs. His hands cradled them, thumbs sweeping over your skin like you were something precious. Like he couldn't believe the way you whimpered when he was marking every inch of your skin.
"I know, sweetheart," he cooed, voice so soft, mouth ghosting over your skin. "I know you're sensitive. Just let me make it better."
He draped your legs over his shoulders like they belonged there, kissing up your inner thighs, tongue teasing so slowly you could cry. And when he finally pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss right where you needed it...
You shattered again.
"Johnny–"
You arched into him and he groaned like he was the one coming apart.
"You taste so good, baby," he praised as he began licking loudly. "So sweet ... fuck– I've wanted this for so long..."
His tongue moved swiftly, unrelenting and deliberate, while his hands pinned your hips down. You were a writhing mess, overstimulated and dripping for him, but still moaned his name over and over.
It wasn't just pleasure, every paint of his tongue was relief. Like he was cooling the fever from the inside out.
"That's what you needed, huh? All worked up and no one to help you ... what kind of man would I be if I left my girl like that?"
His girl.
"Johnny ... Please don't stop."
"I won't," he promised, smiling against your wetness. "Not until you feel safe again."
And he meant it. His lips worked you open, his tongue tracing lazy circles and long, aching strokes until you were gasping and crying out, trembling so hard your vision blurred.
He moaned against you like he was addicted. His nose brushed your clit with every pass, and it was torture, sweet, unbearable, perfect torture.
Your hands flew to his hair, tugging him closer, desperate, and he loved it, humming low as he flicked his tongue faster, coaxing another release from you, watching you fall apart all over again.
He blinked up at you, dazed and stunned and so fucking gone for you. "You're gonna kill me," he said, completely in awe. "What did I do to deserve this?"
You, spread in front of him, barely able to breathe anymore.
Body begging for more.
He was ready for another round in no time.
You weren't sure how many rounds you ended up doing. Or how many places you begged him to fuck you on. All you remembered was begging 'one more time', "please Johnny, another one", "Johnny just one more".
It was never 'just one more'. You completely drained him after many hours, until the itch was finally gone.
Not that Johnny ever complained. If anything, he had fulfilled all of his known desires on his preferred partner too.
Thank god for sex pollen.
You weren't sure how long you were out, your body gave in before your brain could catch up. The ache between your legs was evident but warm, the weight of Johnny's love still lingering on your skin. You woke up slowly, your cheek resting against a very toned chest, the faint scent of sweat and smoke clinging to him like a memory.
The lab was dark, save for the soft flickering light pulsing from a single, familiar source.
Johnny.
He was still beneath you, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other lazily raised. At the tip of his finger, a small flame danced, gentle, hot, nothing like the infernos he usually conjured. Just enough to light his face in amber glow.
You blinked up at him.
He wasn't looking at you, not at first. Just drawing slow circles on your back with his thumb, eyes were distant. Thoughtful.
Then he felt you stir.
"Hey," he rasped, smiling down at you.
You swallowed hard, everything flooded back. The lab. The counter. The floor. Your hands in his hair, your name on his tongue, the way he held you like you were made for him.
And now... this.
Quiet. Intimate. Real.
"Sorry," you whispered, still sprawled half on top of him. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."
He chuckled softly, his chest shaking under you.
"After everything that happened that's the last thing you should be apologizing for, sweetheart," he teased, lowering the flame a little. "Besides, it's not the worst way I've ever spent a night in the lab. I love having a very satisfied hot girl passed out on my chest."
You laughed softly, feeling that familiar heat creeping up your cheeks. But something made you doubt for a second.
'After everything that happened, that's the last thing you should be apologizing for.'
Guilt washed over you. The goddamn pollen.
"Johnny... earlier... I didn't mean–"
"Wait don't," he stopped you gently, sitting up a bit so he could see your face better. "Don't say you didn't mean it."
His expression shifted, firelight dancing in his eyes, but something in him doubted too. Like maybe it was the pollen after all.
That couldn't be farther from the truth.
"No, no that's not what I meant," you immediately corrected, and sighed. "I didn't mean to make you feel used, or... like I didn't care."
His gaze softened a little.
"You didn't," he mumbled, still holding his breath in case you sent him to hell after this.
You inhaled slowly, and everything you'd been holding back just tumbled out.
"What I said earlier... that you're everything? It wasn't just the serum talking," you confessed. "You are, Johnny. I mean it."
His whole expression cracked open, surprised, glowing, like someone just handed him his heart back.
"Damn," he said softly, lips curling into a grin. "You're really gonna say that to me while I'm naked and emotionally compromised?"
You laughed, burying your face in his neck.
"Shut up," you mumbled, but you were smiling too.
He pulled you closer, his free hand trailing over your spine.
"Nah, too late," he grinned. "You're into me. Can't take it back now."
"Ugh, why did I say anything."
"Because you love me. Or at the very least, my hands."
You groaned. He laughed again, delighted, confident, soft. He lifted the flame again and watched the orange glow reflect on your skin.
"So what now?" you whispered.
"Now?" He shrugged. "You keep laying here. I keep lighting up the room. We do this again when you're not on a heat spiral."
"Johnny–"
"What?" he smirked. "You like my fingers, admit it."
You shook your head, "I wasn't that into them."
"No, no, don't even try to downplay it now," he accused, all smug. "You weren't just into my hands. You were like ... obsessed with them."
You groaned and buried your face in his chest like that would protect you from the embarrassment clawing up your throat.
"Johnny–"
"No, seriously," he continued with mock innocence. "I've never seen someone stare at my fingers like that. You were practically drooling. I thought I was gonna have to get a towel."
"Stooop," you whined, voice muffled, your whole body heating up again, and not from the pollen this time.
He laughed, wicked and loving all at once.
"But hey," he said, turning serious in the most unserious way, "you can have them now, you know. Anytime you need them."
"Yeah?" you asked, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "What about now?"
⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆
feedback is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading 🫶🏼
Okay, would anyone be interested in a fic where Adrian is absolutely enamored by reader that was Scarecrow's sidekick of sorts but has since reformed. But said reader was on the suicide mission with Chris and witnessed him killing Rick Flag, so they lowkey despise his ass. When they learn that Chris isn't actually dead, they are like AVID on avenging Rick or smth. Then Adrian is torn between his total dream girl and the fact that she is hell-bent on destroying Chris, his best friend. If he even notices that reader hates Chris.
Update: Okay, uh, I did NOT expect so many people wanting this. Thank you, everyone, for voting. Part one is already in the works, but I'm still deciding if it's going to be two long-shots or an actual series. Let me know what you guys think, and I'll update you with a snippet soon. :P