#i also see your fire metaphor and i applaud you for it 😌 loved that

[intrepidacious]

yeahh well i'm right there with you about the realness of that part 😭 i believe you could classify this fic as Working Through Things asdjhgsldhg

essie my darling !! thank you so much for your comment it genuinely made me so emotional and i wish i had better words to express that. adore you 🥺💛💛

step number one

summary: You haven't kissed anyone in a couple of years. Johnny's more than happy to help you out.

pairing: johnny storm x f!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: friends to lovers, making out (in the name of practice) please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: this was supposed to be my valentine's day fic but here we are. c'est la vie. hope you still enjoy this fluffy nonsense a week later 🫶🏼

masterlist | read on ao3

"You got any plans for tomorrow?" Johnny asks the day before Valentine’s Day, spread out on your bed like usual, his eyes not lifting from his phone.

You snort. "Yeah, right."

There’s something, you think, about the aggressively pink-and-flowers-and-chocolate aesthetic of this month that well and truly makes you want to throw up. 14 per cent discounts and coupley pictures and cutesy videos have been flooding your feed for the past week and a half, and with most of your friends neatly paired off as well, it’s like there’s absolutely no escaping the—

"Why not?" Johnny asks. "I mean, pretty girl like you gotta have guys lined up around the corner." The smile in his voice is sincere enough to let you believe he really does mean that as a compliment.

"First of all, ew," you reply, closing your app after yet another "date fit" video. "Second, the last date I went on ended with the guy leaving the country, so there’s that." Granted, you’d known about his travel plans beforehand, but still.

Johnny pushes up on one elbow. "Really. Coffee shop creep?"

You scowl at him. "Don’t call him that."

He’d been nice enough. Paid for your drinks and museum tickets. Hung his jacket over your shoulders when you started shivering. Yes, he’d also ghosted you and gone to Iceland, but it wasn’t like you’d known him that well.

You’d only gotten your hopes up too soon, like you always did.

"That was your last date?" Johnny says, attention fully on you now. "Wasn’t that, like, four years ago?"

"Five," you mumble, your cheeks heating. Almost six, but who's counting? "So, no, I’m not doing Valentine’s Day."

Being single is much easier, anyway. You don’t have to consider anyone else in your life; don’t have to wonder about what they’re doing or whether their family liked you or if they’re planning a three month trip abroad … huh. Maybe that one’s still somewhat of a sore point, after all.

"Why haven’t you gone out with anyone in five years?"

"I don’t know, it just sorta happened. Not everyone goes on a date with a new person every week."

"Gross exaggeration."

"Not really," you say, nudging his side with your toes. "Do you ever see those girls a second time?"

"Sometimes. Hey, when did this become about me?" He catches your foot when you make to poke him again. His smile doesn’t waver, but his voice becomes gentler when he speaks again, a little more serious. "I thought you want a relationship."

You swallow.

"I do," you say quietly. "It’s just … it’s scary. I don’t like putting myself out there, and I’ve been so busy with everything else. I don’t have time to worry about small talk or the fact that at this point I don’t even know how to kiss anyone anymore."

It’s a vicious circle, really. Wanting something serious while also being terrified of anything serious. And suddenly, almost without noticing, years have gone by and nothing has changed at all.

Next to you, Johnny goes very still.

Honestly, it’s not the reaction you’ve expected. Deep down, you thought he’d laugh, tease you about the fact that it’s been nearly six years since you’ve gotten intimate with anyone. Sometimes, you want to laugh about it yourself, even though at the same time, you don’t find it funny at all.

But Johnny Storm has always had more layers than people give him credit for; even you, sometimes.

"Do you …" His voice cracks and he clears his throat, staring at the wall behind you. "Do you wanna practice?"

You blink, heat rushing to your cheeks before you even understand what he’s asking. "Practice what?"

"Kissing."

…

Maybe your brain short-circuited. There’s been some misfiring in your neurons, mistranslating his actual words, because there’s no way on earth he’s just suggested what you thought you heard.

"I—"

"It’d be one less thing for you to worry about, you know," he interrupts, talking quickly. You’ve never seen him look at you this intently. He seems to realize from your stunned expression, and a shadow of his earlier smile softens his face. "Don’t worry," he says. "I don’t bite unless you want me to."

Your mouth opens and closes a couple of times, your heart pounding so loud you can hear feel it behind your temples. "I don’t know how to respond to this."

"Say yes," Johnny says. "We can just try it out. We don’t have to bring it up again after today, it’ll just be … preparation, you know? Step number one of getting you back in the game."

It doesn’t feel like a game at all, this suggestion.

The craziest part about it, though, is that you are seriously considering it. You stare at him, his pretty blue eyes and his cocky grin, and the earnest expression behind his nonchalant façade. No matter your answer, he wouldn’t judge you.

Besides, it’s not like you’ve never thought about it.

You’ve caught glimpses of Johnny kissing other girls one too many times not to secretly wonder what it would be like. To feel his lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed against you, your hands gliding over the short buzz of his hair.

It’s longer now, maybe even long enough to tangle your fingers in and yank.

"Fine," you say quietly, and watch his smirk falter ever so slightly.

No matter his grand bravado, he clearly didn’t expect you to agree. It’s sweet, the way he scrambles to sit up properly, not even caring that his phone drops to the floor.

"Yeah?"

You swallow, nod. There’s an excited blush spreading on his cheeks that’s kind of endearing but also makes you want to melt into the ground. The way he’s staring at your lips makes you feel aware of every single cell in your body. You can’t remember ever being looked at like this.

"Do you want to …?"

"I don’t know, can you just—"

His hand cups your cheek, warm and steady. He’s always so warm.

"Close your eyes," he says lowly, and they fall shut of their own accord.

You don’t think you’re breathing as you wait, your hands fisted into your blanket as if you’re trying to hold on for dear life. Maybe you are.

For a very long moment, nothing happens, and you’re starting to feel like you’re being ridiculed after all. Like you’re going to open your eyes to Johnny laughing in your—

His lips brush against yours, just a single, careful touch, lingering, testing the waters. You don’t dare to move, or breathe, or do anything but feel. Your mind is racing, even though you cannot catch a single coherent thought.

The sheets rustle, the mattress dipping as Johnny breaks the kiss, adjusting his position. His thumb is still on your cheek, a gentle caress.

"You in there, darlin’?"

"Yeah." Your grip loosens a little.

"Okay." His breath fans over your lips. "You wanna try again?"

You’ve barely started nodding before he dives in again.

This time, you’re a little more ready for it, moving your mouth against his experimentally. He smells nice. You don’t know what to do with your hands.

He pulls away again and your heart tugs painfully, but he only tilts his head the other way and goes back to kissing you, still so soft, so languidly, like he has all the time in the world. He makes no rush of deepening the kiss, which is so like and unlike him at the same time.

It’s you, then, who leans in closer, your tongue slipping into his mouth, your brain going in and out of focus with each shuddering breath as he responds fervently. His fingers move down to your chin, angling it just a little. One of your hands lands on his shoulder, seeking balance.

He tastes sweet. Dangerously addictive.

This time, you’re the one to move back, your eyes flying open, feeling like his fire has set your entire body aflame. "How’d I do?"

Johnny blinks a couple of times, staring at your mouth, his pupils blown wide. You press your lips together.

"Not bad," he says hoarsely. "Maybe a little …"

"What?"

"Come here."

He catches your hands, putting them around his neck. It’s an awkward position, the rest of your body still angled away from his until he raises an eyebrow.

You realize there’s two options before you, and you’re not ready to have him on top of you in your own bed.

Instead, you straddle his thighs, looking over his shoulder to not have to meet his eye. His arms fall around you, settling at your lower back, pleasurable heat crawling up your spine.

"This okay?"

You kiss him again.

He makes a startled noise against your mouth, tightening his hold on you as his head drops back, granting you easier access. Your heart is pounding so wildly in your chest it’s making you dizzy.

It’s the most natural thing in the world, to kiss him like this. To scratch your fingernails against the nape of his neck until he makes that sound again. It vibrates against your tongue, and you melt against him, his body hot and solid against yours. Even when you come apart for air, he’s the only real thing in the world.

There’s nothing innocent about the way your mouths crash together now. He swallows your surprised moan like he’s been hungering for it, his hands bunching up your shirt at your back. You shudder against him when he grazes bare skin, each new touch burning in the most delicious manner. You’re weightless, intertwined, content to never again draw a single breath that hasn’t fallen from his lips first.

His tongue slides against yours, tasting your mouth in a way that borders on desperate. You press even closer to him, your fingers slipping into his hair in that way you’ve wanted to for longer than you’ve cared to admit even to yourself, hips involuntarily stuttering against his until he groans, responding in kind to each push and pull.

Finally, after what well may have been hours, you come apart, your forehead pressed to his, chests heaving. You don’t want to open your eyes; don’t want to return to the aftermath of what you’ve just done.

"Go out with me."

You sit back. Johnny’s arms are still draped around you, and there’s a mesmerized smile on his face as he looks at you. "What?"

"Go out with me. On a date." His voice is rough and strangely hopeful, and it makes your stomach flutter. "I promise no small talk."

"You’re not serious."

"About you?" His gaze drops to your lips again. "Always." His nose bumps against yours. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" You exhale shakily, dropping to a whisper. "That’s soon."

"Hmm."

"Maybe I should practice some more before then."

He smiles against your mouth.

thank you for reading my first full length johnny fic 😌 i'm sure it won't be the last. if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!