johnny storm x fem!reader
content warnings: none! all fluff!
summary: on a mission, Johnny gets sprayed with something that makes him way too honest. you try to keep him quiet, but he blurts out all the things he’s been holding back, especially how long he’s been in love with you.
wc: 2k
It was supposed to be a standard sweep.
Alien bunker. Low threat. Weird tech, strange symbols, and enough glowing crystals to make Reed’s voice crack with excitement. Johnny had been bored from the start—hovering in the back of the group, tossing a ball of flame between his fingers while Ben kicked open doors and Sue cleared the path.
“I could be on a beach right now,” Johnny muttered, singeing the edge of a scorched blueprint with his pinky. “I deserve to be on a beach.”
“You got terrible sunburn last time,” Sue reminded him without looking back.
“It was a controlled burn.”
The air in the corridor felt stale, like something hadn’t breathed in there for centuries. They moved cautiously through the underground chamber, scanning for trip wires or pressure plates. Nothing. Just strange writing etched into the walls, humming with quiet energy.
That was the first sign something was off.
It sat in the corner of the room. Dull silver, cracked slightly open, leaking a strange violet mist that curled and floated like it had a mind of its own.
Johnny, naturally, poked it.
“Johnny.” Ben snapped, too late.
The mist shot upward in a perfect puff—like a firework in reverse—right into Johnny’s face.
He blinked. Coughed once. Waved the smoke away.
“What the hell was that?” Sue asked, backing up with her arm half-raised for a shield.
“I’m fine,” Johnny said, squinting. “That was barely a breath. Not even spicy. Smelled kind of like lavender.”
Reed was already scanning him with some handheld monitor, muttering calculations under his breath.
Johnny grinned. “Relax, I’m fine. I feel great, actually.”
Then he looked at Sue and said, completely deadpan:
“By the way, your meatloaf sucks.”
“Excuse me?” she said, affronted.
“I’ve been pretending for years. I’m sorry. It’s bad. It’s like sadness in a pan.”
And that was when Reed declared the mission over.
The Baxter Building lobby smelled like smoke.
Not the scary kind. No alarms, no shouting, no flaming holes in the ceiling. Just a lingering warmth in the air, like someone had lit a match and forgot to put it out. You looked up from your notebook as the elevator doors slid open and the Fantastic Four filed in, one by one.
Reed had a sample tube in his hand. Sue was wiping green goo off her shoulder with a sigh. Ben was muttering something about “next time, I swear I’m bringing a flamethrower.”
“Hey, guys!” he said way too brightly, his eyes going wide when he spotted you. “Look who it is! It’s the prettiest person in the tri-state area. No, the planet. Actually, the universe. Easy.”
He marched right up to you with zero hesitation and zero regard for personal space.
“Hi,” he said, grin full blast, cheeks flushed. “You look amazing. I love that shirt on you. And your hair? Perfect. Is that a new lipstick? It’s making me go crazy. In a good way.”
“Me? Never better,” he said, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Got sprayed with a weird puff of alien gas in a tunnel, but I feel fantastic. And also, I’ve been thinking about how your laugh sounds like windchimes, and how it makes my chest all floaty and-”
“Johnny,” Reed interrupted from across the room, brows furrowed behind his glasses. “I need you to sit down.”
“I am sitting down,” Johnny replied.
“Well, emotionally I’m sitting. Emotionally I am in a beanbag chair. Staring at-” he turned back to you, “a literal work of art.”
Sue groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Reed, tell me he didn’t breathe that stuff in.”
“He did,” Reed said grimly. “And based on his current behavior, I’m hypothesizing a psychochemical compound similar to a truth serum. But stronger. Less filtered. More impulsive.”
“Sweet,” Ben said. “So he’s just gonna be running his mouth until it wears off?”
“Oh, this is gonna be good.”
You turned back to Johnny, whose attention hadn’t wavered once. He looked like a golden retriever that had just discovered affection. His smile was stupid. His eyes were shining. His hair was a little windblown and he had a small scratch on his cheek, but he looked annoyingly good.
“I am so sorry,” you whispered, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You probably don’t feel like yourself right now.”
“I feel great,” he replied. “Your hand is soft. Did you know that? Have I told you that before?”
“And I love that perfume. It’s not too much. It’s, like, subtle but deadly. I would let it kill me.”
“I’m in love with you, by the way.”
Sue choked on her coffee.
Ben muttered, “Aw, hell.”
Johnny blinked. “Oh. Should I not have said that?”
The words just…hung there.
Like a balloon popped in the middle of a silent room. Time slowed. You felt your ears go hot, your heart skip. Johnny stood there, blinking at you like he didn’t just say that, like he hadn’t just detonated the emotional equivalent of a nuclear bomb in the middle of the Baxter Building.
“Okay,” you said, voice tight. “Okay. So you’re, uh. You’re drugged. That’s cool. That’s fine. Everything’s cool-”
“I’m not drugged,” Johnny said proudly. “I’m just finally free.”
Sue set down her coffee with a loud clunk. “Johnny, shut up.”
“I won’t!” he declared, like he was giving a toast. “I have been in love with her for, like, six months- maybe more, who’s counting, not me, except that I definitely wrote it in my notebook at one poin=t”
“Oh my God,” you whispered.
“And I didn’t say anything because I thought, hey, you’re normal, right? And I’m me. Human torch. Fire boy. Disaster man. I figured if I told you, you’d run for the hills or laugh or worse. But I think about you all the time.”
“Like, all the time. Like, embarrassing amounts. Like I have quotes you’ve said stuck in my head like song lyrics.”
“I memorized the way you say my name,” Johnny added, eyes wide, honest to God sincere. “You say it different than everyone else. It’s like…softer. Like you’re letting me be someone else when you say it.”
No. You wanted to melt into the floor.
Or maybe fly into the sun.
But instead you stood there, frozen, while Johnny kept going, still not done.
“One time I flew over your apartment window to make sure you got home okay after that dinner with that guy you didn’t like. And I pretended it was a patrol run, but really I just wanted to make sure your lights turned on. And I saw them. And I smiled for, like, an hour.”
“Oh my God,” Sue muttered into her hands.
“Also!” he added brightly. “I have a collection of vinyls in a box labelled ‘If She Ever Lets Me Kiss Her’ and I will be playing it in full if that moment ever comes."
Ben was red in the face now, shaking with laughter. Reed just looked concerned.
You finally grabbed Johnny’s arm and pulled him into the hallway with a rushed, “I just need to talk to him, excuse us.."
Once the door clicked shut behind you, Johnny looked up at you with a dreamy smile.
“You’re holding my arm,” he said, like it was the best part of his whole day.
You stared at him. “Johnny.”
“You are not in your right mind.”
“No, you’re chemically compromised.”
He grinned wider. “Wow. That’s my favorite way someone’s ever said that.”
You ran a hand down your face, trying not to laugh. Trying not to feel the way your heart was pounding.
“You can’t just…say all that to me,” you whispered. “You can’t say things like that and not mean them.”
The smile softened. For the first time all afternoon, he looked a little serious. A little still.
“I do mean them,” he said quietly. “Every single word.”
He wasn’t grinning now. He wasn’t performing. He was just looking at you like you were the only real thing in the room. No sparks. No flash.
“But,” he added, blinking slow. “If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I can…walk that back. Just, like, tell me, and I’ll make myself forget. Or I’ll pretend this never happened. I’ll do whatever you want. Just…don’t stop being in my life. I need you. Even if I don’t get to have you.”
You didn’t realize you’d moved until your hand was on his face, fingers cradling his jaw, thumb brushing the side of his cheek.
He leaned into it instantly, heat curling off his skin like instinct.
“You didn’t even ask if I feel the same,” you said softly.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t fiery.
It was warm. Solid. Real.
He tasted like cinnamon gum and something a little electric. He sighed into it like it was the one thing he’d been holding his breath for all this time.
When you pulled back, he looked dazed.
“You taste like strawberry chapstick,” he whispered. “I knew it.”
You laughed, breathless, forehead pressed to his.
“What happens when the serum wears off?”
“I panic. Sue makes fun of me. Reed writes a report. I pretend I don’t remember any of this.”
“Then I kiss you again,” he said. “But on purpose this time.”
By the time Johnny woke up the next morning, the serum had long worn off, and the crippling realization of everything he’d said had kicked in.
He lay on his back in his bed, arm over his face, replaying it all in horror:
“I think about kissing you, like, constantly.”
“I flew past your window to make sure you were safe.”
He groaned. Out loud. Into the void. Into his pillow.
There was a knock at the door.
“Morning, lover boy,” Ben said, way too cheerfully.
“Too bad. I brought company.”
Sue followed behind, sipping her coffee. “How’s our little truth bomb?”
Johnny rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. “Dead. Gone. I’m quitting the team.”
“Aw, come on,” Ben said. “You were adorable. Real rom-com material.”
“I didn’t know your middle name was ‘romance’” Sue added.
“And Reed says he’s almost done charting your ‘emotional spike timeline,’” Ben said. “Apparently you got more honest every time she smiled at you.”
“I will burn this entire building down.”
A soft knock interrupted his growing spiral of despair.
You stepped into the doorway, holding two mugs of coffee. One of them had little flame doodles on the side. Johnny peeked over his pillow, eyes wide like a scared cat.
You gave him a slow smile. “You, uh…remember yesterday?”
He groaned. Again. “Please say it was all a dream.”
You walked over and handed him the flame mug.
“But it was a very good dream for me.”
His ears turned red. Bright red. Like the serum had activated all over again.
You sat gently beside him on the edge of the bed.
“I liked hearing the things you said,” you added. “Even if they were…sudden. And chaotic. And a little concerning.”
“So…you’re not never speaking to me again?”
You leaned in, brushed your hand across his cheek, and kissed the corner of his mouth, warm and quick and real.
“I kind of want to hear more of the truth,” you murmured. “This time without the alien chemicals.”
His eyes widened. “You do?”
“Only if you promise to show me that collection of records.”
Johnny grinned, wide and stunned, like he couldn’t believe his luck.
“I’ll even throw in choreography,” he said. “But I’m warning you—it’s a lot of finger guns and dramatic pointing.”
And for the first time in twenty-four hours, Johnny Storm thought:
"Yeah. That wasn’t so bad after all."
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