You bless us with these

They're so desperate I love them

You spoil us

Last season I didn't make any fanart now I this season I NEED to because omg

I started actively liking him now that I know his backstory, i didn't see it last season im sorry

Softly through Johnny's mohawk.

"I love you." John smiles.

"I love you more, Johnny." Simon frowns slightly as he smiles. He's always had an odd way of smiling.

John scoots over, pulling Simon to lie next to him, and they cozy up with a movie until their food arrives.

"Let's get you on the couch." Simon smirks, taking big steps across their apartment and draping him in blankets after putting him in the cosiest corner.

Those puppy eyes Johnny gives him make everything worth it.

"Food will be here in 30 minutes, love." Simon says softly, carding his fingers-

On the temple, and getting up. He cleans up, keeping an eye on Johnny in the meantime, still on the floor, but much more relaxed now.

Simon fidgets with his phone to order takeout and picks his husband off the floor bridal style.

"Oi!" John protests weakly.

Half the content next to the steel pot. An open cabinet door. He could almost imagine the scene: Johnny coming home exhausted, then fucking up several times in a row and breaking down over something so small.

"It's alright." Simon utters. "I'll fix it for ya." He murmurs, kissing his husband-

thigh.

Four seconds in- hold for four, breathe out for four, and hold for another four.

Slowly but surely, Johnny relaxes against Simons' side.

"Wanna talk about it?" Simon asks.

"No." John rasps. "It was fucking stupid."

Simon scans their kitchen, a spoon on the floor, a pot with soup-

Would match his steady breathing. He almost starts crying harder at the realisation that he gives a shit. But of course he gives a shit, he reminds himself

John squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to shut his brain the fuck up, and focuses on Simon's breathing, and hand tracing squares on his-

Simon fidgets with Johnny's hand until the smaller man leaned against him, still silently crying.

He becomes non-verbal when his body and brain shut down like this. And rightfully so. Panic attacks are exhausting.

It takes John a few moments to realise that Simon is breathing slowly, hoping he-

John looks up with a quivering lip. Simon. He's here. He inhales sharply, looking down, ashamed. Simon moves to sit next to him, grabbing the Scots hand. "Breathe." He mutters. John thuds his head back against the kitchen cabinet, his inhales alternating between unsteady and solid, deep breaths.

It's distant. And john ignores it. Still breathing too rapidly, practically whining whilst pulling his hair– and apparently sobbing, he realises when the figure reaches out and wipes his cheek dry. "Johnny, you're okay." The voice sounds again, hesitant, but closer this time. "Please, Johnny-"

And falling rapidly. Too rapidly. First he couldn't breathe and now he's hyperventilating? Fucking great. He needs to calm down before- The room suddenly gets too bright. Is this it? Is he going to pass out? A black figure looms over him. "Johnny." The figures voice cuts through his mean thoughts.