corroded-hellfire

[corroded-hellfire]

Piggybacking off the superhero party update for AYW, what if Ryan is after being gone for what feels like ages to liza finally comes home for a break from college and she's super nonchalant about it when eddie and reader tell her and then when he arrives he gets the silent treatment and he has to grovel for liza to forgive him.

He must beg the forgiveness of Her Highness. Eddie says that if Ryan is old enough to go to college, he’s old enough to handle Eliza’s wrath.

Words: 1.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Trees mottled in different colors pass by in a blur as Eliza gazes out the window from the backseat of the car. Fall is in full bloom in Hawkins, and the town is painted in warm browns and oranges. It’s the Friday before Thanksgiving as Eddie drives his eldest daughter home from school. He glances back at her as the car rolls to a stop at a red light. 

“Ryan should be there when we get home,” Eddie says.

“Okay.” 

Eliza couldn’t sound more nonplussed if she tried. It’s the same reaction she’s had since she learned a few weeks back that her oldest brother would be coming home for the week of Thanksgiving to celebrate with his family. Ever since Ryan left for college in August, Eliza has flopped back and forth between sad and mad that he’s gone. Occasionally, the seven-year-old experienced the emotions at the same time, and that usually called for consoling from one of her parents. Sometimes her big feelings couldn’t fit into her tiny body. 

“You’re not excited to see him?” Eddie asks as the car starts moving again. 

“I guess,” Eliza answers. Again, there weren’t any real emotions behind her words. 

“I thought you missed him,” Eddie continues. 

“I do.” Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that. He would’ve thought by now he’d have some sort of clue as to how his daughter’s mind works, but no. It’s been seven years, and he still can’t figure out how she ticks sometimes. In some ways, she’s the most predictable little girl. She wants anything to do with princesses or sparkles, and her attacks on Luke when he comes home from whatever sports practice he had can be observed like clockwork. But then there are moments like this where Eddie can’t find the logic or reasoning in what she does or says. Eddie always thought raising Luke gave him a good sense of what it was like for Wayne to raise him as a kid, but it looks like Eliza is giving him another perspective on raising a rambunctious child. 

The car pulls into the driveway, and Eliza gathers up her Beauty and the Beast backpack before hopping out. Eddie follows her up the driveway and through the front door. The little girl makes no motion to search for her collegiate brother, instead hangs her backpack up on its peg on the hall closet door, and kicks off her small pink ballet flats. Ryan hears the front door open though, and heads to greet his little sister.

“Eliza!” Ryan grins and quickly picks his sister up, squeezing her in his arms. “I missed you!”

She says nothing in reply. Eliza simply lets her brother hold her in his arms, waiting to be put back down on the ground. 

“Uh, Eliza,” Eddie prods. “Your brother said he missed you.”

Ryan sets Eliza back down, and she shakes out her chocolate curls before tilting her head up in defiance and walking further into the house.

Eddie and Ryan look at each other.

“Do you know what this is about? Is this some new thing she does?” Ryan asks.

“No. Luckily, she’s too young to get those preteen mood swings yet. So, your guess is as good as mine.”

Ryan follows Eliza into the living room, where two-year-old Hayden instantly attaches himself to his oldest brother’s legs. The youngest Munson boy has stuck to Ryan like glue since he’s come home, while Scarlett has been more reserved, needing some time to warm up to the brother she hasn’t seen in a while. 

Eliza makes her way through the living room and into the kitchen, giving Scarlett the high-five she requests as her sister walks by. Luke had just recently taught the twins what high-fives are, and it’s the only greeting they will accept for the time being. 

Ryan scoops up his insistent baby brother but continues to follow Eliza. Hayden fusses and starts mumbling semi-coherently when they walk by Scarlett, so Ryan sets the boy down by his twin. 

As Ryan walks into the kitchen, Eliza is pouring herself a glass of milk. She then opens up the pantry and stands on her tiptoes to try and reach a box of chocolate Teddy Grahams. Ryan reaches over her head and hands her the colorful box. 

“Thank you,” Eliza says tersely. She doesn’t look at her brother as she takes the snack and her milk over to the kitchen table. 

Ryan immediately plops down in the chair across from her. He waits. For what, he isn’t sure. Her to look at him? Her to speak? But all she does is reach into the box of Teddy Grahams and pop three into her mouth. 

“Come on, Lize,” Ryan finally says. “What’s going on? Why are you ignoring me?”

It’s as if the eighteen-year-old said nothing at all. Eliza takes a sip of her milk, and her hand goes back into the box to fish for more crackers. 

Ryan sighs as his head flops down onto the table. He lets it lie there for a moment, listening to the sounds of his sister eating. But he can’t take it anymore and lifts his head with a groan.

“You haven’t been this quiet since before you were born,” Ryan says. “What? Are you mad at me?”

Eliza’s head nods once, her chin still raised defiantly and her eyes on her snack. 

Ryan sighs again, but this time it’s more sympathetic. He moves to the chair right next to Eliza and leans in towards her.

“I’m sorry that it’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” Ryan says softly. “But you knew that’s what was going to happen when I went to college. But we Skype once a week. And I talk to you at least a few times a week, right? Come on.”

“You weren’t here for my birthday,” Eliza finally says, her tone clipped. 

Ryan’s shoulders droop as he hears the sadness in her words. 

“I know,” he says. “But I sent you a gift and we Skyped, right? I got to see you dressed as Black Widow.”

“You weren’t here.”

“I couldn’t be,” Ryan explains. He runs a hand through his honey brown hair, desperate to make her understand. “College isn’t like school here. You can’t just get a note from your mom or dad and take time off. There are papers I have to write and tests I have to take. And you’re not allowed to make them up if you miss them. Only if you have a note from a doctor saying you were too sick to come to class that day.”

The explanation softens Eliza’s face a bit. But she clearly still holds it against him. 

“You’re too far away,” Eliza says, more sadness than anger in her voice now. 

“I know it’s far,” Ryan says. His front teeth gnaw on his bottom lip for a moment. The drive from home to his dorm in Nashville can take anywhere from four and a half to five hours, depending on traffic. Ryan knows that’s an eternity away to his sister. 

“I’ll be home again in just a few weeks, though,” Ryan says hopefully. “For longer. For Christmas and New Year’s. I’ll be home for like a month. I’ll drive you so crazy you’ll be begging me to go back to school.”

He gently jostles Eliza from side to side, trying to turn the mood from tense to playful. Still, Eliza says nothing. She simply bites the head off another Teddy Graham and chews it. 

Ryan lets out a deep sigh and drums his fingers against the table. He thinks of ways he could possibly make this up to her. Logically, he knows there’s not really anything to make up for, but a little girl who hasn’t seen her brother in months doesn’t care about logic. 

This Thanksgiving break, Ryan has plans with his friends that he hasn’t seen in a while either, but he tries to think of a way to carve out time for just him and Eliza. Then a commercial that Ryan had seen while watching kids' shows with the twins this afternoon pops into his head. It’s almost too perfect. It’s as if Disney handed it to him on a silver platter. 

“What if I take you to see that new princess movie this week? The one about Rapunzel?”

Eliza’s eyes widen as she turns to look at her brother for the first time. Ryan almost laughs at how large her brown irises look at that moment. 

“Tangled?” Eliza asks, voice high with excitement.

“Yeah, that one,” Ryan says. “How about just you and me go to see that?”

A smile breaks out on her face that nearly melts Ryan’s heart.

“Yeah,” Eliza says. “I wanna do that. Just you and me.”

“Then you’ll forgive me?”

Eliza purses her lips and tilts her head to the side as she considers him.

“Will you buy me candy at the movies?” she asks.

Ryan chuckles, amused by her terms.

“I’ll buy you two candies.”

Eliza offers her hand to her brother.

“Deal.”

[corroded-hellfire]

Joe Keery as Steve Harrington but you can actually see him. Stranger Things 4

[corroded-hellfire]

hey red!! i love your AYW universe. do we ever find out what happened to brit??

We do! 😉

[corroded-hellfire]

the wanted posters for eddie

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lil check in ~ hope you’re well 🤍

You really are the sweetest 🥹💜

[corroded-hellfire]

🤌🏻

[corroded-hellfire]

time for a check in with my favourite people in my phone…

how are you feeling? how’s your week been?

use the template or you can reply with a picture <3 also ily <3

ILY 2!!!

This is me rn

[corroded-hellfire]

JOSEPH QUINN as JOHNNY STORM — The Fantastic Four: First Steps (2025)

[corroded-hellfire]

Bug is being far too kind in saying this is by both of us. She wrote it all and I double checked any superhero lore because I’m a massive nerd.

I love Superman Steve though, oh my goodness.

· · · · we could be heroes · · · ·

Superman!Steve Harrington x Lois Lane!Reader mini-series by @munson-blurbs + @corroded-hellfire

Warnings: Superman (2025) spoilers, superhero AU, female!Reader, blood, violence (no extreme gore), existence of the Upside Down but not otherwise canon compliant

WC: 3.7k

divider credit to @saradika-graphics

chapter one. everybody wants to rule the world

Steve Harrington was late for work. Again. 

It wasn’t because he’d spilled coffee on his way out the door, or because he’d forgotten to set his alarm, or because his Beemer wouldn’t start, or any of the other excuses he’d provided over the last three weeks. 

And every single one of them was a lie, just as today’s excuse would be. 

He bounded through the glass doors of The Hawkins Post building, waving a quick hello to the receptionist on his way in. 

“Mr. Harrington,” Rose said, her blue-gray eyes widening in concern, “your lip is bleeding.”

Steve stopped in his tracks, silently cursing himself as he swiped his tongue over his lower lip. He did his best to feign shock when the familiar taste of metal filled his mouth.  

“Allergies must be making my lips chapped,” he said with a half-hearted chuckle. 

Rose’s brows pinched together. “Do allergies cause chapped lips?” She asked, using a pencil eraser to scratch above her ear. 

“Oh, yeah. I mean, m-mine do,” Steve stammered. “Must be some weird genetic thing or something.” He dashed towards his office before the older woman could question him further. 

Weird genetic thing. An absolutely bizarre explanation that was somehow more believable than the truth: Steve’s actual weird genetics gave him the strength of one thousand men, the speed of a bullet shot from a gun, and heat vision that could melt the polar ice caps. 

Just to name a few. 

And the cut on his lip had come from a monster that had escaped containment, breaching the gap between worlds. Steve had fought them before, but the large creature who had stumbled out of Lover’s Lake was flanked by two smaller yet equally-strong comrades. 

And when one of the smaller creatures shrieked beside Steve’s ear, slimy saliva dripping from its petal-like skin, the leader seized the opportunity to dig its claws into Steve’s face. 

If he hadn’t been trying to get to work, he would have taken more time to heal himself. But the sting from the scratch was nothing compared to the searing pain he’d felt when the third monster flailed its long arms and knocked him to the ground, so that injury took priority. 

Now, Steve adjusted his tie and kept his head down as he hurried past Mr. Holloway’s office. After the morning’s chaos, the last thing he needed was to be scolded for his tardiness. 

Tom Holloway’s door squeaked open just before Steve could turn into his own office. He cringed, knowing his guilt would be even more obvious if he ignored his boss. 

“Morning, Mr. Holloway.” Steve managed a small, nervous smile, trying to ignore the twinge of discomfort at the corner of his mouth. 

But Mr. Holloway’s smile was far more genuine. “How many times have I told you: Call me Tom?” He clapped a strong hand on Steve’s back and gave him a little shake. “Do me a favor, kid—ask your dad if we can push back our golf game to noon tomorrow. I’ve gotta get a cavity filled in the morning.”

Steve exhaled, hoping his relief wasn't too evident. “Of course. I’ll let him know.”

His boss left without a thank you; not that Steve expected one. He only got this job at The Hawkins Post because his father and Mr. Holloway were friends. Steve had a feeling that he’d still be serving ice cream to whining children or rewinding hundreds of hours of movies if it wasn’t for this family connection. 

He plopped down at his desk, flicking open his notepad to his most recent interview with Colts quarterback Jeff George. 

“Jeez, Harrington. What the hell happened to you?”

There was never a moment of peace with Eddie Munson around. He pushed his swivel chair from behind his own desk and careened into Steve. His grin never left his face. 

“Nothing,” Steve mumbled, instinctively bringing his hand over his mouth. 

But Eddie wouldn’t relent. “Did you get into a fight? Henderson told me you used to get beat up a lot in high school—” 

“Eddie!” Nancy Wheeler snapped. She kept a pencil tucked behind her ear. “I can’t concentrate with you yapping!” 

Jonathan Byers was never one to speak up, but he put his arm around Nancy in solidarity. His camera dangled from a strap around his neck. 

Eddie rolled his eyes and wheeled himself back over to his comic sketches. “Every party has a pooper…” he muttered. 

Steve mouthed a thank you to Nancy, but she was already poring over a draft, furiously editing and revising like her life depended on it. 

Probably one of mine, Steve thought. It’s not like English had been his best subject in school; he pulled solid Cs and stumbled towards graduation without a semblance of a plan. This gig at the newspaper was his first and last chance to have a meaningful career. 

The fact that it paid enough so that he could move into his own place didn’t hurt, either. 

And then there was another perk of the job—one that Steve tried and failed to ignore. But your cubicle was empty, your chair facing away from the desk. 

“Looking for your girlfriend?” 

Flames of embarrassment nipped at Steve’s face; he was almost certain that the tips of his ears were turning scarlet. It took every ounce of willpower not to smack the Cheshire Cat grin off of Eddie’s face. 

“Not my girlfriend,” he huffed. “You’re the only one here in a secret relationship.”

Eddie scoffed, crossing his tattoo-covered arms over his chest. Despite the Post’s business-casual dress code, he somehow always got away with wearing old band t-shirts. 

“Speaking of that.” He thumbed an unfolded sheet of paper that he’d tucked beneath his own scrapped articles. “Chrissy sent me another one today. This one was under my windshield wiper.”

Steve’s brows pinched together as he read the note. 

can’t w8 2 see you again

“Sounds like a stalker,” Steve quipped. “What’s with the random numbers this time?”

“Dunno.” Eddie shrugged. “Maybe it’s so Henry can’t figure it out.”

Steve didn’t bother to point out that anyone with two brain cells could crack that code; doing so would require him to continue talking to Eddie about his love life. 

There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to get him through that discussion. 

Luckily, Eddie took the hint. “Well, your not-girlfriend is talking to the Boss Man right now.”

Sure enough, Steve could hear your voice coming from Mr. Holloway’s office, even with the door closed. He couldn’t help but creep closer, hoping to catch snippets of the conversation. 

“…and there was another one today,” you were saying, “but no one’s talking about it. We’re just acting like it doesn’t exist.”

Mr. Holloway let out an irritated sigh. “I have it on good authority that the mayor has it under control. We don’t want to interfere with—”

“I’m not asking to interfere! But the people of Hawkins deserve to know the truth.”

“Do you know the truth?” Mr. Holloway’s question was met with a heavy silence. “Listen, kid; I’m not trying to turn my newspaper into some trashy gossip rag. If people want to read about monsters or alien invasions, they can pick up the Enquirer.”

Steve clenched his fists, but shamefully stayed rooted to where he was standing. He’d fought off some otherworldly creature not even two hours earlier, but his courage failed him now. 

That wasn’t quite true. Steve wasn’t afraid of defending you. If Mr. Holloway fired him, he’d just trudge back to Family Video and beg Keith for his old job back. 

No, Steve was afraid that if he stepped into the office and saw the anguish that was no doubt written all over your face, he’d beat Mr. Holloway until his face was unrecognizable. 

And he’d promised himself that he’d never use his strength in such a way. That slope was too slippery. The fine line between ‘hero’ and ‘villain’ would become fuzzy once he exerted his powers without a reasonable threat. 

Mr. Holloway lowered his voice and continued. “Our job is to keep the status quo. Write about picking pumpkins at Merrill Wright’s farm or whatever bullshit, fou-fou musical the community center is putting on. That’s what Hawkins needs to read about.”

You grumbled a resigned “yes, sir,” and Steve scrambled back to his desk before you could catch him eavesdropping. 

If journalism or being a superhero don’t work out, maybe I can pursue a career as a spy, Steve thought wryly. He was already no stranger to hiding and concealing his identity. 

Kid. 

The word prickled beneath your skin, barking at you to remind your arrogant boss that you were a grown woman. A woman with a degree in journalism, who would like to use that degree to write more than just fluff pieces. 

Not that much of anything ever happened in Hawkins, but there were certainly more pressing stories than Halloween celebrations. 

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath. Your fingernails left crescent-shaped marks where they’d bit into your palms. 

You plastered a smile on your face before rejoining your coworkers. It didn’t take long for the smile to become real once you saw Steve. 

Steve looked up from his work, hiking his wire-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Hey, Cronkite.”

Your heart surged at his nickname for you. “Hey, Harrington.”

Steve practically flung himself across the office, his chair skidding on the carpet as he pushed from his cubicle to yours. 

You arched an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“You sighed.”

“I what?”

“Sighed,” Steve repeated. “Like…” he let out a long, melancholy breath. 

Did you sigh? You hadn’t even noticed. Apparently, Steve had. 

You shrugged, trying to play off your residual frustration. “Meeting with Holloway. Y’know how it is.”

Except he wouldn’t know how it is, because simply having the Harrington name made Steve the office’s golden boy. 

Steve knew it, too, which was why his response was, “Want me to talk to him?”

You couldn’t shake your head fast enough. The only thing more embarrassing than being shut down by Holloway—again—was sending Steve in to fight your battles for you. 

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “I mean, it’s not fine, because there’s something weird going on, and he wants me to focus on—”

“Wait.” Steve’s eyebrows disappear beneath his hair. “What do you mean, ‘weird?’”

You froze, your eyes shifting around the room. No one else was paying attention to your conversation, so you let your guard down enough to whisper, “have you seen, like…” you paused, carefully selecting your words, “...creatures around here?”

You felt ridiculous as soon as you said it. Creatures? You expected Steve to laugh and spend the rest of the day claiming to have seen Bigfoot in the woods or the Loch Ness Monster swimming around Lovers Lake.

Instead, he lowered his own voice. “What kinds of creatures?”

“Like, not animals. But not people, either. They walk like people, but they,” you swallowed, trying to ignore how absurd you sounded, “they have these weird faces, but I didn’t see any eyes. Just these–”

“Petals.” Steve finished for you. “They look like flower petals with teeth.”

“Yes!” You slammed your palm down on the desk, wincing at the unintentional attention it drew. When the rest of the office went back to their work, you continued. “And this morning, there was a guy fighting one of them.”

Steve flinched, but he collected himself before speaking again. “A guy?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, thinking back to that morning. It felt like a fever dream. Bright yellow beams emanated from the man’s eyes, forcing the creature to cower back, before he pummeled it to the ground. “Steve, this is gonna sound insane, but I swear the guy…flew away afterwards.”

If Steve was shocked, he hid it well. “And Holloway won’t let you report on it?”

You shook your head. “Honestly, I thought he would call me crazy, but he just brushed me off and told me to ‘keep the status quo.’”

A fire ignited behind Steve’s hazel eyes for half a second; if you’d blinked, you would have missed it. “Fuck it,” he grumbled, ripping an empty page out of your notepad. He scribbled something down before handing it back to you. “Meet me here at seven o’clock tonight. I…I know the guy who you saw today. He’ll tell you everything.”

“How do you–” You stopped when Steve gave you a sharp look. Sure enough, Holloway was stalking out of his office, furiously waving an empty coffee mug at a beleaguered intern. 

Before you could interrogate Steve any further, he’d already tucked himself into his own cubicle.

The rest of your questions would have to wait until tonight.

What the hell am I doing?

Steve paced around his apartment, keeping his eyes on the intercom like he could stop it from buzzing if he stared at it hard enough.

She’s gonna show up and it’s just gonna be you. And then what? You’re gonna say that the guy didn’t show up and look like an idiot? Or like you invited your female coworker to your place, where it will be just the two of you? Great plan, Harrington.

There was another option: Tell the truth. But that posed its own problems, like trusting you to keep his secret–and to believe him in the first place.

Why had he even opened his big mouth? 

He knew exactly why, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it. Instead, he convinced himself that it was a favor for a friend–no, a colleague–who deserved a chance to prove their misogynistic boss wrong.

When the intercom buzzed, Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. “U-Uh, yeah?”

“It’s me!” You chirped. Your enthusiasm curdled in his stomach. He was going to have to let you down. 

With lead fingers, Steve buzzed you in. He’d decided that his friend had just called and said that he wouldn’t be able to make it. Why? Oh, he’s sick. A little under the weather, but he should be back to fighting those pesky monsters in no time. 

How long would it take you to get up the four flights of stairs to his apartment? Surely he could think of a more solid excuse before you—

Knock knock. 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and swore under his breath before opening the door. As always, you were prepared, already unpacking the messenger bag that was strapped across your body. He reached out in a futile attempt to help you juggle your pencil, notepad, and tape recorder, but you didn’t notice. 

There were only so many pleasantries you two could exchange—your place is nice; here, let me take your jacket—before you questioned when the mystery hero would show up. 

“He can’t make it,” Steve offered sheepishly. “He, uh, he got sick. Food poisoning. Could barely hang up the phone before he had to run to the bathroom.”

You wrinkled your nose. “I hope he feels better.” Your hands fell to your sides in defeat. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

All Steve had to say was “yes.” Maybe throw in a “get home safe.” Instead, he found himself saying:

“I can answer some questions for you. Like, as his friend, or whatever.” 

The disappointment that had briefly flickered behind your eyes vanished. “Yeah, absolutely. I mean, if you have time.”

Steve forced out a nervous laugh. “I’ve got nothing but time.” He patted the back of a plush sofa chair. “Have a seat. I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

The smile on your face was genuine, and Steve felt himself relax into his own chair as he sat across from you. He polished the lenses of his glasses on his white button-down shirt and rested his forearms on his thighs. “Take it away, Cronkite.”

“Okay.” The cassette’s wheels began spinning. “Mr. Harrington, do you understand that everything you say is considered ‘on the record?’”

He ignored the way his stomach flipped when you addressed him formally. “Of course.”

“Great. So,��� you took a deep breath, “would be too forward to ask you who your friend is?”

Steve nodded. 

“I’ll need a verbal response, Mr. Harrington.”

Right. Steve had become so accustomed to being the interviewer that he’d forgotten the interviewee’s protocol. “Yes, that would definitely be too forward.” 

“I figured.” That damn smile again. You made it nearly impossible for him to focus on the questions with that smile. “In that case, I’m wondering what your friend is battling. Because these aren’t the usual coyotes that we might find around Hawkins, are they?” 

Steve shook his head before remembering to give his answer aloud. “No, they definitely are not.” He raked a hand through his wavy hair. “We don’t know their exact species, but he refers to them as, uh, monsters.”

Your eyebrows shot upwards. “Monsters? That sounds ominous.” You glanced at your list of prepared questions. “How did you–he, sorry–get involved in protecting the town from these ‘monsters?’”

“He’s the only one who can.”

Your impatient finger jabbed the pause button, and the reels came to a halt. “Steve,” you bemoaned, “no vague answers. Please.”

“Right.” He sat back in his chair with a soft thud. The easiest way to go about this was to tell the true story in the third person and omit some details. 

Steve watched your eyes widen as he spoke, detailing how his friend, at eight years old, tagged along with his father, who was a real estate developer working on a project for Hawkins National Lab. How his friend wandered off while the adults discussed business, ignoring the STAFF ONLY and BIOHAZARD signs plastered on one particular door. How his friend had been exposed to all sorts of radioactivity by the time anyone found him, and how that exposure had left him with superhuman abilities.

“Like what?” You cringed at the casual delivery. “I mean, what are these superhuman abilities?”

“Well, for one, he’s insanely strong. Like, if this building started to fall, he’d be able to hold it up long enough for everyone to get out. Flying, of course, he can fly.” Steve scratched at the back of his neck and kept his eyes on a speck of lint on his pants. “And he can shoot laser beams from his eyes, which is useful because the monsters hate fire–”

The sound of your pencil slamming onto the paper startled him. When he looked up at you again, his heart nervously thumped at the rage written across your tightened jaw.

But when you spoke, your words were laced with more hurt than anger.

“Is this a joke?” Your voice shook. “Is this funny to you?”

The cassette reels kept spinning, though you made no attempt to stop the tape.

“Let me get this straight,” you continued, shoving your papers back into your bag. “You invited me here under false pretenses–”

“It wasn’t false!”

His rebuttal went unheard. “And then you give me some bullshit story about a guy, who conveniently happens to be sick, with these crazy powers that he got from a science lab?”

“I know.” Without thinking, Steve reached for your hands, immediately feeling the loss when you pulled back. “I know how it sounds. But you’ve gotta trust me, Cronkite. You saw that monster–”

“I don’t know what I saw,” you snapped. “It could’ve just been a…a bear.”

Steve crossed his arms and poorly stifled an eyeroll. “A bear whose face opens up?”

Why was he fighting you so hard on this? Why couldn’t he just pretend that he’d been playing a prank? Sure, you’d be furious at him, but his secret would be safe. 

“Maybe it was deformed!”

“Look,” Steve hissed through clenched teeth. “I know what you saw. You know what you saw. So just…just sit down, and you can ask me anything you–”

“Help!”

Steve swiveled towards the shriek at neck-breaking speed. He unlatched his window to see Doris Driscoll standing on the sidewalk, clutching an empty leash. 

Ten paces in front of her, clutching a fluffy white bundle in its claws, was one of the largest monsters Steve had ever seen. 

“Help! It’s got my Misty!”

“What’s going on?” Steve hadn’t even realized you were at his side until you spoke. “Steve, what–”

“Stay here, Cronkite.” He grasped your shoulders and looked you square in the eyes when you opened your mouth to protest, effectively silencing you. “Stay here! Do you understand me?”

All you managed was a trembling nod. He’d never spoken to you like that before, and he suspected he’d scared you.

Good. Better to have you scared and safe in his apartment than unafraid and at the mercy of whatever was hunting outside.

“Stay here,” he repeated, “and lock the window as soon as I leave. Don’t open it again until I knock. Got it?”

“Y-Yes.”

If you hadn’t been there to witness what happened next, you never would have believed it.

You’d been so sure that Steve was messing with you, so wrapped up in your own fury, that you could hardly register what was going on. 

The man who had just been sitting before you, nervously picking at his fingernails and begging you to believe his wild story, now stood tall and alert. He rolled his shoulders back, never once stopping to consider his next actions. It was as though he was on autopilot, like he had done this many times before. 

Steve moved in a blur. He was in his work clothes in one moment; in the next, he was wearing a dark blue suit. It was too thick to be spandex, but too form-fitting and rigid to be cotton, and it clung to his every muscle. A red “S” was emblazoned on the chest, seated in the center of a yellow diamond. His glasses were nowhere to be found, and a red cape flowed behind him as he jumped out of the open window.

No, not jumped. Flew.

With his arms stretched out in front of him, Steve Harrington flew out of his living room window into the inky black night.

And right towards the open mouth of a monster.

--

[corroded-hellfire]

· · · · we could be heroes · · · ·

Superman!Steve Harrington x Lois Lane!Reader

» a mini-series by @corroded-hellfire + @munson-blurbs

chapter one drops monday, august 18 @ 5 pm eastern

divider credit to @saradika-graphics

[corroded-hellfire]

miss u bby

I am so sorry I've been so MIA! I know I've not been around and have missed posting for multiple AYW Wednesdays, and I apologize. Unfortunately, I've been going through a bit of a burnout. Not with writing, just life in general, really. I miss writing, but it's so hard to make myself do it right now. I love all of you and I love AYW and it's definitely not going away. I'm just not sure if Wednesdays will be consistent with new installments for a while until I can get through whatever it is that's going on with me. Maybe I'll try writing for Johnny a bit, just to do something different? Maybe that will help. But the AYW family isn't going anywhere; they're still gonna be here causing all kinds of chaos.

I'm gonna try to be here more because I know it would help me to be here with you all instead of hiding away from everyone and everything. Actually, I keep hearing these lines in my head whenever I need a reminder of that. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. But all we can do is try, right?

[corroded-hellfire]

when you try to bring up stranger things to someone and theyre like “wow its been so long i dont remember anything” like damn whats it like being normal

[corroded-hellfire]

expressive king

[corroded-hellfire]

Tag list

@itsgivingharrystyles @lma1986 @silkholland @mimischaos @manda-panda-monium

@joantje @moviefreak1205 @mcueveryday @josephquinnsgoddess @lail1010

@ick90 @0pallangel @daveythorntonslocker @debkk16 @secretscrunchiewhore

@kidd3ath @lovejamespotter @adoreyouusugar @spookysqaush86 @emxxblog

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@nnab @fishwithtitz @abi-4444 @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @5upersoldiers1xt

@munsonslunchbox @pretendthisnameisclever @whenimhomealoneijustdance @daughterofapollo-7 @keeryhours

@littlefreckles4 @godess-ofthe-underworld @alastorssimp @justalotoffanfiction @irrelevantbutembarrassing

@deftones-groupie

Avenged - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Summary: Your and Eddie’s daughter decides she wants a very Marvel birthday party

Note: In honor of my love for Marvel and Joseph being an incredible Johnny Storm, here we go. Also realized that Luke is supposed to look just like Eddie with blue eyes, right? That means he looks kinda like Johnny I guess

Words: 1.7k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie sighs as he yanks off the red cape that’s been billowing from his back for the past few hours. He’s just thankful that he didn’t have to wear a stifling mask all day instead. Eliza had originally been insistent that her father be Iron Man for her birthday party, but luckily Luke was able to point out that Eddie has longer hair that gives off more of a Thor vibe than Tony Stark. Luke was the true mastermind behind all of this to begin with, Eddie thinks. 

His seventeen-year-old son has always loved Marvel comics, but once the movies started coming out, they captured Eliza’s attention too. Particularly the last Marvel movie that came out: Iron Man 2. Eliza took one look at the scene where Black Widow takes down a whole hallway full of men and decided she wanted to be her. Luke was only too happy to encourage this new obsession. 

That meant when October rolled around though, it was time to plan a Marvel birthday party. Everyone looked to Luke for assistance, and he was only too happy to be the source of sought-after information for once. 

“I’m Natasha, duh,” Eliza said one afternoon as she sat at the kitchen table with her unicorn notebook and pink gel pen. 

Luke nodded as she uncapped her pen and began to write down pertinent information. 

“I’m Captain America,” Luke said.

“Who?” Eliza asked as her glittery scrawl filled the notebook page.

“Uh, the best superhero,” Luke said with a scoff, offended at the six-year-old’s lack of knowledge.

“He’s not in the movie,” Eliza said.

“He’s getting his own movie, though,” Luke said. “And if we’re going by characters in the movies so far, there’s not a whole lot to work with. But there are a million characters in the comics.”

“Daddy can be Iron Man,” Eliza said, writing that down on the next line. “What about Mama?”

“Hmm…” Luke hummed as he tapped his fingers against the tabletop. “I’m thinking either Captain Marvel or Jean Grey.”

“Who?”

Luke shook his head.

“I’ll grab my comics later,” he said with a sigh. “Oh my God!”

Eliza startled, her gel pen clattering to the table as her eyes widened. 

“What?”

“The twins!”

“Uh, yeah?”

“They can be the Maximoff twins.”

“Who?”

Luke was about to tell her that he’d show her in his comics, but he knew he had some information that Eliza would love about this particular choice.

“So, they’re these mutant twins. Which means they were born with powers. And his name is Quicksilver, and he runs really fast. And her name is Scarlet Witch.”

Eliza gasped, and her eyes became wide once again. 

“Scarlett is the Scarlet Witch!”

“Exactly,” Luke said.

“Ryan could be someone if he would come home,” Eliza mumbled as she wrote down the characters for her little siblings.

“Lize, college isn’t like the school we go to,” Luke explained. “You can’t just take days off.”

“Stupid,” Eliza mumbled under her breath. 

You plop down next to Eddie, the red and blue spandex of the Captain Marvel suit clinging to you with every move. 

“That was fun,” you say with a sigh. 

“Exhausting,” Eddie adds. 

“Aren’t all your nerdy dreams coming true by getting to pretend to be a Norse god?” you ask.

“There are different types of nerdy,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “But yes.”

The house is a mess. Paper cups are strewn about the kitchen. Garbage cans overflow with used cake plates and plastic forks. Wrapping paper from Eliza’s rampage through her presents is scattered about, leaving Patch to nose at every piece of it he comes across. 

“Here he comes! The fastest man alive!”

Luke races into the room, Hayden in his arms, the little one giggling like a madman. The two-year-old squeals in glee as his big brother zooms him around the living room as if he actually had the speedster powers of Quicksilver. 

Both you and Eddie watch with smiles on your faces as Luke jostles your youngest son all about, giving him the illusion of being a superhero. 

Eliza is the next one to enter the room, her black boots kicking as she pretends to be the nimble Black Widow, taking out bad guys one by one. The newly crowned seven-year-old does a cartwheel and lands in front of her parents, striking a fearsome pose. 

“Someone’s still hyped up,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. 

“Pretty sure all four of them had more cake than they should’ve,” you say.

Luke scoffs from across the room.

“You’re lumping me in with the children?” he demands. 

“You are a child,” Eliza says.

“Only for seven more months,” the older boy points out.

“Oh, God,” Eddie groans, running a hand down his face. “That’s horrifying.”

“Pew!” a little voice sounds from the hallway. “Pew! Pew!”

Scarlett trails in, trying to throw kicks in the air just like her big sister was. It’s not as threatening when her chubby little legs can barely lift off the ground, and she almost tumbles over every time she gets slightly off balance. 

“Scar, you don’t have to do all the kicking like me,” Eliza says, rolling her eyes. “You have superpowers! You’re a witch!”

Eliza crouches down next to her little sister, the two of them looking like polar opposites. The birthday girl is in her all-black catsuit. The miniature heroine is wearing white tights, what looks like a red bathing suit, and a matching crown on her head. It looks nothing like the headpiece Wanda wears in the comics, as Luke lamented many times, but Scarlett would only agree to wear a tiara on her head. Luke was disappointed that these toddlers didn’t share his artistic vision. 

Eliza takes Scarlett’s hands in hers and holds them out like the little girl is shooting magic powers at their father.

“Oh, no!” Eddie gasps. “What are you doing to me?”

Scarlett giggles and thrusts her hands forward on her own as Eliza proudly watches. 

Slowly, Eddie slides himself off the couch and down onto the floor. Although you know he would have you believe it was for dramatic effect, you knew your husband moved so slowly from how sore and tired he was. Wearing plastic armor for hours can be harder on the muscles than one would think. 

As soon as Eddie is on the carpet, Scarlett runs over and climbs on his chest. 

“Pew!” She makes the same noise as before but shoves her hands out in front of her as if using her powers this time. The sound effect didn’t really go with either of the moves Scarlett used it with, but it was too adorable to even give a second thought. 

“The witch has me!” Eddie groans. 

“Uh oh,” Luke says, looking down at Hayden in front of him. “Daddy’s in trouble. What should we do?” 

The padded muscles on Luke’s Captain America costume made him look bulky, and you chuckle at the sight for what feels like the fiftieth time today. It was not a look you were accustomed to seeing on your lithe and lanky son. 

Hayden toddles over and leans forward, his hands falling onto Eddie’s shoulder. It’s the best help that Eddie thinks he’ll receive from the little boy. He’s right, it turns out, because Hayden’s eyes lock on you on the couch, and he forgets all about his father who is in distress. The two-year-old boy runs around the fallen Thor on the floor and climbs up on the couch next to you. He plops down in your lap and smiles up at you, his small teeth gleaming. 

“Hey, you,” you say with a smile. The hairspray and gel used to keep the sides of Hayden’s hair straight back, as if being blown by the wind, is starting to fail, leaving one side still decently held, while the other chunk of light brown hair is wilting against his cheek. 

“Fast!” Hayden tells you.

“I know, you’re so fast!”

Hayden giggles and pumps his little arms at his sides as if he’s running. You laugh and wrap your arms around your boy and hug him against your chest. You place a series of kisses against the top of his head.

“You’re so silly!”

On the floor, Eddie scoops Scarlett up in his arms and holds her straight up above him. The girl laughs and holds her hands out, more reminiscent of Superman than the Scarlet Witch.

“Well, she can fly,” Luke points out. 

Eliza crawls around so she can sit up on her knees and be face to face with her little sister.

“Don’t let him distract you!” the birthday girl says. “You’re supposed to be attacking him!”

“Hey, Captain,” Eddie says.

“Yeah?” both you and Luke say at the same time. 

“Apparently you have to be more specific,” Luke says, playfully narrowing his eyes at you. 

“Captain Marvel,” Eddie clarifies.

“Yes, Thor?” you ask, wrinkling up your nose at Luke. 

“Do we have any cake left?” your husband asks.

“Uh…” Your gaze travels over to your oldest son who is conveniently not looking at either of you. “I think you’ll have to inquire about that to the other captain.”

“Well,” Eddie says with a sigh, without even looking at the teenager, “that means it’s a no.”

“You ate all my birthday cake?” Eliza squeals, her curls whipping around her face as she turns to look at her older brother.

Luke shrugs guiltily, even though you know he’s only sorry he got caught.

“I’m a growing superhero!” Luke defends. 

Eliza’s eyes narrow at him before she launches herself in his direction. Luke, used to her attacks after seven years, easily intercepts her and hoists her over his shoulder. Your eldest daughter kicks her legs, her booted feet pounding into the muscle padding on Luke’s chest. 

Angered by the hold he has on her, Eliza growls and lifts her upper body enough to wrap her arms around Luke’s neck. The teen makes a strangled sound and lets Eliza’s body lower, without letting go of her completely, since that would choke him. 

The Black Widow is able to maneuver herself so she’s hanging on Captain America’s back, her legs hooking around his waist as she groans and tries to shove at his face.

A chuckle comes from your feet, and you look down to see Eddie watching the older children in amusement.

“See, this movie I'd watch,” he says. 

[corroded-hellfire]

THAT’S MY MAN

[corroded-hellfire]

Tag list

@kellyxo1 @lightmelikeamatch @blahbel668 @cherrycolas-things @tlclick73

@emma77645 @corkadymu @c0untryclub @mimsthebannished @josephquinncurl

@alexa4040 @somethingvicked @prestinalove @taylortheyellowlobster @yujyujj

@squidscottjeans @storiesbyrhi @b-irock @buckysbarne @tvserie-s-world

@chicken-ona-stick @daniellabrandt @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ilovetaquitosmmmm @hollster88

@yssnxiw @caravelofthesun @eddiemunsonzslut @marjoriea13 @latedawnsearlysunsets92

@imaginexred @nanas-lasagna @munsonmoonshine86 @saayanaaa @tacowaititiii

@eddiesxangel @siriuslystfu @mmunson86 @steeldaisies @sleepy-bunnie

@girl-loves-munson @whyamiheresomeonehelp @wendyfawcett @eddiedio @delightfulmoonbanana

@marvelcasey05 @venuslayla23-blog @eriancrow @intense-socks @maggieleighc

@let-the-music-take-c0ntrol @dealswiththedevilsblog @blubearxy @marsupiooo @bebe07011

Avenged - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Summary: Your and Eddie’s daughter decides she wants a very Marvel birthday party

Note: In honor of my love for Marvel and Joseph being an incredible Johnny Storm, here we go. Also realized that Luke is supposed to look just like Eddie with blue eyes, right? That means he looks kinda like Johnny I guess

Words: 1.7k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie sighs as he yanks off the red cape that’s been billowing from his back for the past few hours. He’s just thankful that he didn’t have to wear a stifling mask all day instead. Eliza had originally been insistent that her father be Iron Man for her birthday party, but luckily Luke was able to point out that Eddie has longer hair that gives off more of a Thor vibe than Tony Stark. Luke was the true mastermind behind all of this to begin with, Eddie thinks. 

His seventeen-year-old son has always loved Marvel comics, but once the movies started coming out, they captured Eliza’s attention too. Particularly the last Marvel movie that came out: Iron Man 2. Eliza took one look at the scene where Black Widow takes down a whole hallway full of men and decided she wanted to be her. Luke was only too happy to encourage this new obsession. 

That meant when October rolled around though, it was time to plan a Marvel birthday party. Everyone looked to Luke for assistance, and he was only too happy to be the source of sought-after information for once. 

“I’m Natasha, duh,” Eliza said one afternoon as she sat at the kitchen table with her unicorn notebook and pink gel pen. 

Luke nodded as she uncapped her pen and began to write down pertinent information. 

“I’m Captain America,” Luke said.

“Who?” Eliza asked as her glittery scrawl filled the notebook page.

“Uh, the best superhero,” Luke said with a scoff, offended at the six-year-old’s lack of knowledge.

“He’s not in the movie,” Eliza said.

“He’s getting his own movie, though,” Luke said. “And if we’re going by characters in the movies so far, there’s not a whole lot to work with. But there are a million characters in the comics.”

“Daddy can be Iron Man,” Eliza said, writing that down on the next line. “What about Mama?”

“Hmm…” Luke hummed as he tapped his fingers against the tabletop. “I’m thinking either Captain Marvel or Jean Grey.”

“Who?”

Luke shook his head.

“I’ll grab my comics later,” he said with a sigh. “Oh my God!”

Eliza startled, her gel pen clattering to the table as her eyes widened. 

“What?”

“The twins!”

“Uh, yeah?”

“They can be the Maximoff twins.”

“Who?”

Luke was about to tell her that he’d show her in his comics, but he knew he had some information that Eliza would love about this particular choice.

“So, they’re these mutant twins. Which means they were born with powers. And his name is Quicksilver, and he runs really fast. And her name is Scarlet Witch.”

Eliza gasped, and her eyes became wide once again. 

“Scarlett is the Scarlet Witch!”

“Exactly,” Luke said.

“Ryan could be someone if he would come home,” Eliza mumbled as she wrote down the characters for her little siblings.

“Lize, college isn’t like the school we go to,” Luke explained. “You can’t just take days off.”

“Stupid,” Eliza mumbled under her breath. 

You plop down next to Eddie, the red and blue spandex of the Captain Marvel suit clinging to you with every move. 

“That was fun,” you say with a sigh. 

“Exhausting,” Eddie adds. 

“Aren’t all your nerdy dreams coming true by getting to pretend to be a Norse god?” you ask.

“There are different types of nerdy,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “But yes.”

The house is a mess. Paper cups are strewn about the kitchen. Garbage cans overflow with used cake plates and plastic forks. Wrapping paper from Eliza’s rampage through her presents is scattered about, leaving Patch to nose at every piece of it he comes across. 

“Here he comes! The fastest man alive!”

Luke races into the room, Hayden in his arms, the little one giggling like a madman. The two-year-old squeals in glee as his big brother zooms him around the living room as if he actually had the speedster powers of Quicksilver. 

Both you and Eddie watch with smiles on your faces as Luke jostles your youngest son all about, giving him the illusion of being a superhero. 

Eliza is the next one to enter the room, her black boots kicking as she pretends to be the nimble Black Widow, taking out bad guys one by one. The newly crowned seven-year-old does a cartwheel and lands in front of her parents, striking a fearsome pose. 

“Someone’s still hyped up,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. 

“Pretty sure all four of them had more cake than they should’ve,” you say.

Luke scoffs from across the room.

“You’re lumping me in with the children?” he demands. 

“You are a child,” Eliza says.

“Only for seven more months,” the older boy points out.

“Oh, God,” Eddie groans, running a hand down his face. “That’s horrifying.”

“Pew!” a little voice sounds from the hallway. “Pew! Pew!”

Scarlett trails in, trying to throw kicks in the air just like her big sister was. It’s not as threatening when her chubby little legs can barely lift off the ground, and she almost tumbles over every time she gets slightly off balance. 

“Scar, you don’t have to do all the kicking like me,” Eliza says, rolling her eyes. “You have superpowers! You’re a witch!”

Eliza crouches down next to her little sister, the two of them looking like polar opposites. The birthday girl is in her all-black catsuit. The miniature heroine is wearing white tights, what looks like a red bathing suit, and a matching crown on her head. It looks nothing like the headpiece Wanda wears in the comics, as Luke lamented many times, but Scarlett would only agree to wear a tiara on her head. Luke was disappointed that these toddlers didn’t share his artistic vision. 

Eliza takes Scarlett’s hands in hers and holds them out like the little girl is shooting magic powers at their father.

“Oh, no!” Eddie gasps. “What are you doing to me?”

Scarlett giggles and thrusts her hands forward on her own as Eliza proudly watches. 

Slowly, Eddie slides himself off the couch and down onto the floor. Although you know he would have you believe it was for dramatic effect, you knew your husband moved so slowly from how sore and tired he was. Wearing plastic armor for hours can be harder on the muscles than one would think. 

As soon as Eddie is on the carpet, Scarlett runs over and climbs on his chest. 

“Pew!” She makes the same noise as before but shoves her hands out in front of her as if using her powers this time. The sound effect didn’t really go with either of the moves Scarlett used it with, but it was too adorable to even give a second thought. 

“The witch has me!” Eddie groans. 

“Uh oh,” Luke says, looking down at Hayden in front of him. “Daddy’s in trouble. What should we do?” 

The padded muscles on Luke’s Captain America costume made him look bulky, and you chuckle at the sight for what feels like the fiftieth time today. It was not a look you were accustomed to seeing on your lithe and lanky son. 

Hayden toddles over and leans forward, his hands falling onto Eddie’s shoulder. It’s the best help that Eddie thinks he’ll receive from the little boy. He’s right, it turns out, because Hayden’s eyes lock on you on the couch, and he forgets all about his father who is in distress. The two-year-old boy runs around the fallen Thor on the floor and climbs up on the couch next to you. He plops down in your lap and smiles up at you, his small teeth gleaming. 

“Hey, you,” you say with a smile. The hairspray and gel used to keep the sides of Hayden’s hair straight back, as if being blown by the wind, is starting to fail, leaving one side still decently held, while the other chunk of light brown hair is wilting against his cheek. 

“Fast!” Hayden tells you.

“I know, you’re so fast!”

Hayden giggles and pumps his little arms at his sides as if he’s running. You laugh and wrap your arms around your boy and hug him against your chest. You place a series of kisses against the top of his head.

“You’re so silly!”

On the floor, Eddie scoops Scarlett up in his arms and holds her straight up above him. The girl laughs and holds her hands out, more reminiscent of Superman than the Scarlet Witch.

“Well, she can fly,” Luke points out. 

Eliza crawls around so she can sit up on her knees and be face to face with her little sister.

“Don’t let him distract you!” the birthday girl says. “You’re supposed to be attacking him!”

“Hey, Captain,” Eddie says.

“Yeah?” both you and Luke say at the same time. 

“Apparently you have to be more specific,” Luke says, playfully narrowing his eyes at you. 

“Captain Marvel,” Eddie clarifies.

“Yes, Thor?” you ask, wrinkling up your nose at Luke. 

“Do we have any cake left?” your husband asks.

“Uh…” Your gaze travels over to your oldest son who is conveniently not looking at either of you. “I think you’ll have to inquire about that to the other captain.”

“Well,” Eddie says with a sigh, without even looking at the teenager, “that means it’s a no.”

“You ate all my birthday cake?” Eliza squeals, her curls whipping around her face as she turns to look at her older brother.

Luke shrugs guiltily, even though you know he’s only sorry he got caught.

“I’m a growing superhero!” Luke defends. 

Eliza’s eyes narrow at him before she launches herself in his direction. Luke, used to her attacks after seven years, easily intercepts her and hoists her over his shoulder. Your eldest daughter kicks her legs, her booted feet pounding into the muscle padding on Luke’s chest. 

Angered by the hold he has on her, Eliza growls and lifts her upper body enough to wrap her arms around Luke’s neck. The teen makes a strangled sound and lets Eliza’s body lower, without letting go of her completely, since that would choke him. 

The Black Widow is able to maneuver herself so she’s hanging on Captain America’s back, her legs hooking around his waist as she groans and tries to shove at his face.

A chuckle comes from your feet, and you look down to see Eddie watching the older children in amusement.

“See, this movie I'd watch,” he says. 

[corroded-hellfire]

Franklin is my hero. The superior member of the group, really.

Johnny Storm x Teacher!Reader

Summary: Johnny Storm was usually a natural flirt, but something about Franklin's teacher had him losing his mind.

WC: 1.5k

Warnings: female!Reader (she/her pronouns)

Divider credit to @saradika-graphics

Note: Do we want a part two, or should this stand alone?

“Um, hello?” The door to the living area swung open, revealing one furious Johnny Storm and a much more jovial Franklin Richards. 

“First,” Sue arched one eyebrow, taking in the sight of her five-year-old son. “I want to know what is all over Franklin’s face.”

Franklin clapped his sticky hands together. “Uncle Johnny bought me ice cream! In a cone!”

Sue huffed out an annoyed sigh, directing her glare at Johnny. “And why is he eating ice cream now? Now he won’t be hungry for dinner.” 

Reed bit back a smirk as he stretched his arm across the room and plucked a tissue from its box. He wiped the chocolatey residue from Franklin’s mouth before sending him to wash up. 

Johnny rolled his eyes, irritated that his sister thought he needed a reason to spoil his nephew. “The real question is, why did no one tell me that Franklin’s teacher is a total babe?”

The other three members of the team offered up their paltry reasons. 

“Why is that important?” Sue stood up from where she sat next to her husband. She put her hands on her hips, ready to launch into a full lecture about not spoiling Franklin’s appetite, but Johnny already turned his attention to Reed. 

“I’m a married man.” Reed gestured to the band on his fourth finger. “I don’t go around discussing how attractive other women are.”

Ben shrugged, flipping to the next page of the New York Times. “I just wanted to see you get all twitchy.”

Johnny flipped him off, his anger boiling beneath his skin. “Well, a heads-up would’ve been nice,” he grumbled, stalking into the kitchen and grabbing the first box of cereal he could find. 

Bran Flakes. Pass. 

“We’re out of Frosted Flakes,” Sue told him. 

“Ugh.” He shoved the Bran Flakes back into the pantry and flopped down on the closest chair. “Today is not my day.”

Something softened in Sue. Maybe it was seeing her baby brother so upset, or maybe she was feeling less resentful about Franklin’s impromptu snack now that Johnny was missing out on one. 

She gently mussed his blond hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Johnny scowled. Not even a second later, he sprung forward, elbows digging into the table top. “I went to the school, expecting to see some decrepit old lady like his preschool teacher—”

“Wasn’t Mrs. Luft, like, fifty?” Ben quipped. 

As usual, Johnny ignored him. “But then I saw her. She was in this plaid skirt with this shirt that, y’know…she wasn’t showing anything off, but it gave me…ideas.”

“Seriously?” Sue massaged the bridge of her nose. “We don’t wanna hear about your ‘ideas.’ Just please tell me you didn’t get Franklin kicked out of school.”

“Have a little faith in me.” Johnny scoffed. “I just smiled at her. I think. Actually, I might have just…stared?” 

No one missed his visible cringe. 

The room remained uncomfortably silent until Ben spoke up. “You just stared at her? Like…” He mimicked a dead fish, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Did you at least introduce yourself so she didn’t think some random man was abducting Franklin?” Reed asked, tone heavy with annoyance. He turned on the television set, staring at as the anchor delivered the news in black-and-white. “The last thing we need is people thinking we’re under attack.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Johnny rolled his bright blue eyes. “Everyone knows Johnny Storm.”

Even in his panic-stricken state, Reed couldn’t argue with that logic. It wasn’t as though there was another person in New York City who could soar through the air, body ablaze.

Sue let out a long breath. “Well,” she finally said, “looks like Ben will be in charge of pick-up from now–”

“No!” Johnny burst out. “Give me a chance to redeem myself tomorrow. I won’t be weird.”

“Gonna be hard to beat today’s romantic staring contest,” Ben muttered under his breath, not bothering to hide his grin.

Johnny stalked over to where Ben sat reading. Without uttering a single word, he sparked flames at his fingertips and incinerated Ben’s newspaper into an unidentifiable pile of ash.

“Oops.”

The next day at three in the afternoon, Johnny was waiting outside of the school. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans for the fifth time in as many minutes.

He hadn’t looked forward to the sound of the schoolbell ringing since he was a student. And he certainly never felt anxious about it.

Pull it together, Johnny. You’re the Human Torch, for crying out loud. 

But unless his powers suddenly afforded him the ability to flirt with you, his superhero status was a moot point.

Sure enough, Franklin bounded down the steps alongside his classmates. He waved to Johnny with a mile-wide smile.

This is it. Go over there, introduce yourself, and ask her if she’d like to go out for a drink. No, dinner and a movie. Don’t want her thinking I’m trying to get her drunk.

Through his rattling nerves, Johnny managed a smile when he approached you, silently vowing not to screw this up again. He extended his hand, eyeing it to keep it from shaking.

“I’m, uh, I’m Johnny–” he started, but he was quickly interrupted by an overly-enthusiastic Franklin.

“Uncle Johnny! I remembered to tell her about how you got me ice cream, just like you told me to!”

Never in Johnny’s life had he envied his sister’s invisibility powers. Until now.

He didn’t need a mirror to know that the tips of his ears were bright red. He wanted to melt into a puddle and slither down the sidewalk and into the nearest drain.

Yes, he’d bought Franklin ice cream yesterday. Yes, he might have told him to tell his teacher about it. He didn’t expect his nephew to blatantly rat him out.

Note to self, he thought bitterly, teach Franklin the meaning of the word ‘secret.’

“And I told her what you said to Mommy, Daddy, and Uncle Ben, too!”

Johnny choked on his own saliva. There was no way Franklin heard what he’d said last night from his room…right?

He spoke through gritted teeth. “Bud, I didn’t say anything about–”

“Yes, you did!” Franklin insisted. He crossed his arms over his chest in indignation, looking scarily like his mother when she was angry. “You said that she was a total babe!”

Johnny clapped a hand over his nephew’s mouth a fraction of a second too late. The damage was already done.

He forced himself to look at you. You didn’t seem disgusted or even embarrassed; in fact, Johnny could’ve sworn you were fighting back laughter.

“Bud, go play with your friends for a few minutes, okay?”

“But–”

“Go play with your friends,” he hissed, “and I will buy you more ice cream.”

Franklin ran off to the playground and joined his classmates without another argument, no doubt already figuring out how to finagle his uncle for a double scoop.

Johnny shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I am so sorry about him,” he said. “We’re still trying to find his ‘off’ switch, but, uh, no luck so far.”

This time, you didn’t hold back your laughter. “Don’t worry about it. Kids say the craziest things. I never know what’s true and what isn’t.”

There it was–an out. You’d offered it to him on a silver platter; all he had to do was pretend that Franklin made the whole thing up and he’d be home free.

Instead, he swallowed his pride and summoned all of his courage. “I didn’t mean for him to overhear that. I would’ve preferred that the first compliment from me was something a little less…”

“Blunt?” 

“I was gonna say douchey, but that works.” 

You giggled, and Johnny thought he might fall over on the spot. “What kind of compliment were you thinking?”

“Oh, I dunno.” He flashed you one of his signature flirtatious grins. “Maybe that you’re beautiful, or smart, or have the patience of a saint to deal with all of these little gremlins.” He took another step forward. “If you’re free tomorrow, I could tell you more of them over dinner?”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Depends.” He coyly pursed his lips. “Are you accepting?”

There was another peal of your delicious laughter as you reached for the pen tucked behind your ear. “Here’s my number.” You took Johnny’s hand, palm up, and scrawled down the most incredible ten digits he had ever seen.

“I’ll call you,” he promised. 

A date. You’d agreed to a date.

Johnny had to pick out an outfit and figure out something with his hair and buy you flowers–but first, he had something more pressing to address.

“FRANKLIN RICHARDS, WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT BEING A TATTLETALE?!!”   

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