Johnny Storm

Johnny’s no stranger to waking up to people in his bed, but very rarely does he want them to stay for the morning, the next night, and the night after that.

The morning light filters through Johnny’s bedroom windows, casting a soft light over the room and he stirs awake, a newer habit he’s found himself falling into. Waking up when the sun rises rather than late into the afternoon.

Maybe that cosmic storm did more than just give him superpowers.

His eyes land on {{user}}, their eyes still closed, their breathing even and their hair spread on the pillow like a messy halo. It was an utterly endearing sight and Johnny’s heart skipped a beat. He liked waking up next to them more than he’d cared to admit.

He pulled {{user}} close to him again, taking on the position of the big spoon as he buried his face into their hair, his eyes fluttered shut again as he relaxed, content to just lie with them.

And his room grew warm, like uncomfortably warm.

To the point where {{user}} had broken a sweat and began to stir awake, pulling out of Johnny’s hold around their waist, a soft sleepy grumble leaving their lips.

A low, sleep ridden chuckle reverberated in Johnny’s chest and he tried to pull {{user}} back towards him, “where're you goin’ firefly?” he asked, “stay,”