More Fem!jason 😍🙏

mark grayson | love me like an innocent (and hold me tight)

summary: viltrumites are war-borne. the only love mark grayson has ever known is the crushing weight of his father's fist. you remedy that.

tw. viltrum!mark, mild blood and gore (it's the invincible show, c'mon), *gasp* hand holding, forehead kisses, reader playing with mark's hair. diabetes inducing amounts of fluff, mark being touch starvedTM. reference to this post.

in another universe, mark grayson is kind, softened by the tender touch of his mother. they call him invincible and his name means hope. there’s something like a boyish lilt to his grin. 

the mark grayson you know pulled you out of the rubble he buried you in, bloodied hand tight around your neck, and left you choking on his ultimatum. follow him or die.

and you were tired of cecil’s no-nonsense, find-a-way-to-beat-these-fuckers stare. tired of playing hero for a bunch of ungrateful scumbags, of ceaselessly bloodying your hands. crime is the many-headed hydra. it will never die. you will. 

you took mark’s hand and buried yourself in his arms. earth burned. 

the flames have settled, the only remaining source of heat being mark’s body, slotted against yours. markus sebastian grayson, clad in the cold colours of viltrum, white and gray molding him into a perfect picture of stoicism. you think of marble. glacial. haughty. 

he’s been… hovering, lately. lingering just out of the corner of your eyes, when the only thing you can catch a glimpse of is the lithe silhouette of him, all sharp angles and cold, eyes colder than the winter soil when frost bites and crops wither. you wonder if he trusts you. if he’s watching you, waiting for the inevitable slip up. 

(you hear the viltrumite talk among themselves. they are not kind - their kin never is. general kregg’s words are cutting. you were once earth’s best defender, with the weight of the sun bearing on your shoulders, liquid fire coursing through your veins. supernova, he mocks. do you really think of yourself as one of us?)

so here you are, on a viltrumite ship, arms crossed as you face the vastness of space. it’s cold, the void of it nipping at your skin despite your powers. you let out a heavy sigh. 

earth orbits before you. you hope it’s worth it, its desolation. the slaughter of the weak. you remember cecil’s gaze as you towered over the pentagon, clad in viltrumite colours. the fear. the betrayal. the knowledge that whatever failsafe he planned against you, to keep you contained, was not enough. the smell of his burnt flesh didn’t make your stomach churn.

a noise. a door sliding open, then shut. viltrumites abhor walking. there are no footsteps to recognise people by here. but there is only one person who comes and goes by the stark room they call your quarters. 

he comes to you with bloodied hands and heavy silence, the weight of it blanketing your shoulders. you do not know if you hate him for what he’s made you do. 

(you remember the regent emperor thragg standing before you and asking to prove yourself to the empire. you remember mark suggesting you lay waste on the pentagon, voice detached. you remember burning the GDA to the ground. self immolation at its peak.)

you see him, his reflection next to you, blood splattering his uniform, his cheeks, his hair. he does not speak. stands a mere few inches away from you. he’s warm, you think, you know, you feel. warm enough that you wonder why he burns, what is burning him. 

hesitantly, you brush your fingers against his. he stiffens, shoulders tensing in the prelude to viltrumite ultraviolence. you freeze, make a move to pull away. his fingers curl around yours, wrap tight and pull. 

your breath hitches, head resting on the angel wing of his collarbone, one you’ve traced the contours of one desperate, desperate night three months ago. you, mark, and so much grief you wanted to drown in it. you had never felt that cold in your life. mark had pulled you close, mouth feverish on yours, thumb smearing blood away from the corner of your lip. you’d melted. 

you’ve learned, then, panting and breathless in the wreckage left of the pentagon, hellfire burning, that viltrumites fuck like they fight. it wasn’t soft, the way mark took you and made you his own, it never was. you don’t think you’d want it any other way. you remember the way he looked at you when you cupped his cheek, the way he flinched when your skin touched his own, impossibly soft. he’s never known anything but his father’s fist.

three months later, and you’re a betrayer to your kin, lone human in a viltrumite ship. and one of their strongest warriors has his hands resting on your hips, thumbs brushing hesitantly over the thick material over your uniform, seeking, seeking. you do not understand why he’s drinking you in like he’s been starving for it, like he can only breathe when you’re around. why now? something like a low, broken little noise echoes in your ear. your eyes widen.

“mark? what’s wrong?”

you turn to face him, hand coming up to cradle his cheek. his breath hitches. you watch as he leans into your touch, the sharp angle of his cheek pressing against your palm. it feels like something is clicking. you meet his gaze. gone is the glacier edge to his eyes. they’re soft. infinitely soft, gazing at you as though you’re holding the universe in the palm of your hand. your heart skips a beat. then another.

something like a soft blush dusts his cheekbones, and you watch, bewildered, as he nuzzles your hand, a stray lock of hair brushing your knuckles. 

“mark?” you breathe. 

he glances away, fingers curling around your wrist. a shuddering breath escapes him, warm on your pulse. he feels it, the way your blood jumps under your skin, fluttering softly under his fingertips. you push away his hair from his face, comb the thick dark locks behind his ear. it’s gotten bloody again.

another soft noise.

“keep- keep doing that.”

“what?”

he nuzzles your hand, grip on your hip growing impossibly tighter.

“touching my hair,” he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck, blood and gore and viscera now clinging to you both.

you tut a little and gently push him away, eyeing the mess he’s made. blood drips down from his trembling fists to the floor, drip drip dripping red. your fingers lace with his.

“let’s get us cleaned up, yeah?”

blood drips down the shower. lately, it feels as though the only colours you’ve known are white, grey and red. so much red. too much red- 

mark’s hand cups your cheek. trembling. hesitant. like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. he doesn’t, you realise. not with the way viltrumites are, war-bent, destruction-borne. he’s trying. for you. your heart swells in your chest and you smile at him.

“hey.”

his lips curl in a rare smile, chasing the touch of your hands as they busy themselves in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. he’s practically purring under your touch, leaning down to give you better access.

“hey.”

you brush his split knuckles, the bruises blooming over his ribs, the deep gash above his adonis belt, already healing, reduced to a faint, pink line. he doesn’t flinch. only pulls you closer, chin on top of your head. you have to push him away to avoid getting soapy water in your eyes.

“who was the unlucky guy?”

“spawn.”

one of earth’s strongest. one of your colleagues. one of your frien- 

you sigh. inhale, exhale, until the only things that exist are you, mark, and the scalding stream of water trickling down on your skin. until mark pulls you out of the shower and lays you down in bed, barely dry, his head resting on your chest.

you’ve betrayed everything and everyone the moment your heart started beating for him. but here, with the way his lips curl into a half-smile, with the way he trails soft patterns over the small scar on your hip bone, your guilt eases.

“can you… can you play with my hair?” he whispers, burrowing himself in your chest.

you think he wants to crawl in it. make himself at home between your ribs, nestle against your heart and rest his weary head on it.

“yeah.”

in another universe, mark grayson is born soft and cradled by his mother’s warmth. in this universe, debbie grayson is dead, and all the love he ever knew was violence. he’s all sharp edges and cold gazes and bloodied fists, more weapon than human. 

yet, in the quiet of your room, he softens against you, guard lowered enough to let you press your lips to the crown of his hair. 

“let me love you,” you murmur.

he looks up at you, chin on your chest, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them.

“rotten, useless work.”

you press your lips to his.

“not to me.”

(taking the liberty to tag a few ppl, as you guys seemed interested by poor lil mew mew viltrum mark: @gaiasmight @linkwho1 )

might switch up my fic layouts so don't be too appalled by my inconsistencies,,, embrace change my guy

across timelines — johnny cage !

sum. seeing you again amidst armageddon overjoyed johnny, but, were you the you that he knew? whatever or whoever you were, all he knew was he was glad to see you alive.

author's notes. beyond pressing 'read more' – everything you'll read is purely fictional and based on the mind; spelling and grammar mistakes, spot them and get a price (aka my thanks), moreover, feedback and comments are highly valued! i hope you have a good reading experience. love, ian. ౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅

tags ・・・ johnny cage x reader, character death, angst, hurt/comfort, very mcu gamora and quill coded. does not accurately follow the storyline of mk1.

word count ・5.9k

send an ask → find more on the navi → find more on the mortal kombat masterlist !

johnny was still in place, motionless, his breathing stopped.

seeing your body drop down the floor, hearing it thud. bruises and scars decorating your skin, and blood weeping from your body staining the floor scarlet.

he could swear he'd watched how the life force drained from your body and dissolved into the wind, all from giving your all in the war to subdue your own mother, or at least one who was a splitting image of her.

"Y/N!!" he'd cry out, snapping from his trance. he'd run to your disheveled state, everything around you faded to black. "y/n.. no.. don't .. stay with me" he would plead, breaths heaving in desperation, trying to find reason and sense, how does he end your misery. his touch was delicate, afraid of hurting you even further, his hand would caress the back of your head and he would bring your half-asleep body closer to him. "y/n.. stay awake.. liu kang.. he can help you.." he would try, he would try to convince you, to convince himself, just to keep you with him, to persuade you to stay.

"johnny.." a soft plea in your voice, barely conscious, you were losing too much blood at this point. black spots clouded your vision, if you weren't fighting tooth and nail just to stay awake you probably couldn't feel how heavenly it was to be held by the jonathan carlton this way. finally. was this all it had to take? for him to finally hold you close... to hold you so tight, to never want to let you go. agonizing as it was, you'd force yourself to lift up your hand to his face, faintly feeling his ease into your touch.

"i'm here, y/n.." he'd reassure you. nothing felt better knowing, you know he's here with you. a small smile fell on your lips, before gradually, your eyes began to close. brows furrowed, johnny started panicking. "y/n? y/n? hey, don't be like this— y/n, y/n wake up!" he'd try to shake you slightly, until he shaked you more. "Y/N WAKE UP!" he'd cry louder, but to no use... you were...

"NO!"

johnny jolted from his slumber.

... gone. you were gone. truly... gone. forever.

his shoulder slump, his morale and his energy on the down low. it was the middle of the night and he'd awoke from his nightmare to another, the real one, this time. he couldn't bring himself to sleep again, he'd thought of you endlessly that night, dreading the fact of his not being there for you, that night where you had gone. why wasn't he where you were? why wasn't he with raiden and liu kang, why couldn't he stuck with you, like he promised?

how could he have slept at a time like this... gods only know how. a creeking noise would play in the dead of night, alerting johnny who arose from where he'd lain. "johnny.." he called, glowing white eyes, solemn and hints of worry in his voice – the god of fire and thunder wasn't well on hiding the heavy weights on his shoulder – johnny thought subconsciously, above all his concern, was his own exhaustion, what possibly could liu kang be barging inside his room for?

"come.. we must go." the lord said, it was not a simple ask, moreso an obligation.

this was it.

the .. the thing he had promised months ago, though at this point, it's felt like years for johnny.. this was.. this was gonna be the thing that would change the arc of his life..

for the better?

nah, how could it be? when you were... dead.

and he couldn't have done anything to prevent it. hell, liu kang couldn't. so how's this for the better? if it's without you?

he shrugged the thought off, he has to focus on now, as he walked alongside valiant warriors facing up against those who cowered up those stairs that descended from the heavens down to this hellscape.

"let's fucking dance" he'd say to himself, bouncing up and down to pump up in preparation, jazz and all.

then it began ...

cacophonies of war cries echoed from above and from behind him as everyone charged at each other. it was fucking arma fucking geddon. johnny rushed to reach the top, kicking, throwing, and punching anyone in the face, gladly, in their nuts— who got in his way. everytime he did, that sweet killer smile grew on his face, brushing off the sweat and blood that adorned his skin whilst continuing his descent towards the skies.

he was well on his way, when something suddenly clung to his ankle and dragged him down a LOT. "fuck!" he cursed out before trying to get back up, seeing who this fucker was trying to come for him, he was having none of it.

it was...

him.

"well if it isn't.. me" the other johnny seemed almost taken aback seeing johnny,

"just gonna put this out there, i'm the sexy one." johnny would taunt at him even when he was slightly struggling to get on his feet but he found himself bouncing right again ready to take this son of a bitch who was another version of himself, the other would just scoff, "yeah? well i'm sexier." a smirk etched on his stupid face, he would regret that for sure, johnny thought.

the other would launch forceballs at johnny but his were red, it was nothing to our ol' jonathan – dodging it like the plague. punishing the other with a crushing blow to the sternum with his shadow kick. he would laugh at his other who'd fall on his ass, groaning in pain, he'd go back to running up where he was supposed to go.

he ran and ran like there was no tomorrow, because it really felt like there wasn't gonna be anymore. he threw forceballs at anyone who got in his way, not caring anymore, he was gonna get up there and stop this shit.

and he got so close, closer, and closer!

and.. finally, he was there.

wow.. that was.. easy.

he'd scoff at the absurdity, that proved to be a mistake– when he got knocked down a few the pavement of the heavens.

"ow, what the fuck" he kept cursing, everyone's out for him today, no, literally.

he was about to crush the son of a bitch who tried him without pulling back his punches this time, when suddenly his arm clashes with theirs and time is stuck and still, as his eyes gaze back to the same eyes he'd missed terribly.

"...y/n..?" a call to the wind, above a whisper but beneath a yell, his heart doesn't know whether to pick up its pace in absolute euphoria or to slow down and cherish the small time in seeing you again.

oh he was so happy... so happy, he'd let his guard down.. as you did, surprisingly.

"you're alive..." a revelation to him.

an even bigger revelation to you,

who was this man? and why was he looking at you like this? ... nobody, you don't know this creep. you're alive? when had you not been?

"more than ever." you'd say, before swiftly moving forward to knee him in the groin. he'd groan aloud from the heavy impact.

kung lao hissed imagining the agony johnny must've experienced, "hurt like a bitch" johnny described poorly, eyes down, almost as if he wasn't upset at it, finding humor in the interaction with.. someone who resembled you. he almost laughed, but he'd smile smally instead.

he knows. he knows that lookalike wasn't you, because he remembers the you he'd known.

and he had no intention of forgetting you, ever. because across all the timelines that existed, of all the y/n's and the johnny's out there.

to him, the only y/n that mattered was you. and he knows you shared that sentiment. he was wholeheartedly yours, just the same way, you were his.

he would mourn you, for life.

i’m losing it

I can take them all

( not in a fight )

weird asks that say a lot

in

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

7. earbuds or headphones?

8. movies or tv shows?

9. favorite smell in the summer?

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

12. name of your favorite playlist?

13. lanyard or key ring?

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

18. ideal weather?

19. sleeping position?

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

21. obsession from childhood?

22. role model?

23. strange habits?

24. favorite crystal?

25. first song you remember hearing?

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

28. five songs to describe you?

29. best way to bond with you?

30. places that you find sacred?

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

32. top five favorite vines?

33. most used phrase in your phone?

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

35. average time you fall asleep?

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

38. lemonade or tea?

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

41. last person you texted?

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

44. favorite scent for soap?

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

47. favorite type of cheese?

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

51. current stresses?

52. favorite font?

53. what is the current state of your hands?

54. what did you learn from your first job?

55. favorite fairy tale?

56. favorite tradition?

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

62. seven characters you relate to?

63. five songs that would play in your club?

64. favorite website from your childhood?

65. any permanent scars?

66. favorite flower(s)?

67. good luck charms?

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

70. left or right handed?

71. least favorite pattern?

72. worst subject?

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

82. pc or console?

83. writing or drawing?

84. podcasts or talk radio?

84. barbie or polly pocket?

85. fairy tales or mythology?

86. cookies or cupcakes?

87. your greatest fear?

88. your greatest wish?

89. who would you put before everyone else?

90. luckiest mistake?

91. boxes or bags?

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

93. nicknames?

94. favorite season?

95. favorite app on your phone?

96. desktop background?

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

98. favorite historical era?

guys im so sorry for my ia-ness akjfhiaughiailfiau i'll post the johnny fic sat-sun i promise (hold me to that) - caught up with school and falling for bi han,,,, LMAO love u xo

omg found this old yummy polarr filter,,, ok,, layout switcheroo

How that one faceless man in my dreams holding my non-existent baby has me as he tells me how much he loves me and wishes to have me near ...

UGHHH-

across timelines — johnny cage !

sum. seeing you again amidst armageddon overjoyed johnny, but, were you the you that he knew? whatever or whoever you were, all he knew was he was glad to see you alive.

author's notes. beyond pressing 'read more' – everything you'll read is purely fictional and based on the mind; spelling and grammar mistakes, spot them and get a price (aka my thanks), moreover, feedback and comments are highly valued! i hope you have a good reading experience. love, ian. ౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅

tags ・・・ johnny cage x reader, character death, angst, hurt/comfort, very mcu gamora and quill coded. does not accurately follow the storyline of mk1.

word count ・5.9k

send an ask → find more on the navi → find more on the mortal kombat masterlist !

johnny was still in place, motionless, his breathing stopped.

seeing your body drop down the floor, hearing it thud. bruises and scars decorating your skin, and blood weeping from your body staining the floor scarlet.

he could swear he'd watched how the life force drained from your body and dissolved into the wind, all from giving your all in the war to subdue your own mother, or at least one who was a splitting image of her.

"Y/N!!" he'd cry out, snapping from his trance. he'd run to your disheveled state, everything around you faded to black. "y/n.. no.. don't .. stay with me" he would plead, breaths heaving in desperation, trying to find reason and sense, how does he end your misery. his touch was delicate, afraid of hurting you even further, his hand would caress the back of your head and he would bring your half-asleep body closer to him. "y/n.. stay awake.. liu kang.. he can help you.." he would try, he would try to convince you, to convince himself, just to keep you with him, to persuade you to stay.

"johnny.." a soft plea in your voice, barely conscious, you were losing too much blood at this point. black spots clouded your vision, if you weren't fighting tooth and nail just to stay awake you probably couldn't feel how heavenly it was to be held by the jonathan carlton this way. finally. was this all it had to take? for him to finally hold you close... to hold you so tight, to never want to let you go. agonizing as it was, you'd force yourself to lift up your hand to his face, faintly feeling his ease into your touch.

"i'm here, y/n.." he'd reassure you. nothing felt better knowing, you know he's here with you. a small smile fell on your lips, before gradually, your eyes began to close. brows furrowed, johnny started panicking. "y/n? y/n? hey, don't be like this— y/n, y/n wake up!" he'd try to shake you slightly, until he shaked you more. "Y/N WAKE UP!" he'd cry louder, but to no use... you were...

"NO!"

johnny jolted from his slumber.

... gone. you were gone. truly... gone. forever.

his shoulder slump, his morale and his energy on the down low. it was the middle of the night and he'd awoke from his nightmare to another, the real one, this time. he couldn't bring himself to sleep again, he'd thought of you endlessly that night, dreading the fact of his not being there for you, that night where you had gone. why wasn't he where you were? why wasn't he with raiden and liu kang, why couldn't he stuck with you, like he promised?

how could he have slept at a time like this... gods only know how. a creeking noise would play in the dead of night, alerting johnny who arose from where he'd lain. "johnny.." he called, glowing white eyes, solemn and hints of worry in his voice – the god of fire and thunder wasn't well on hiding the heavy weights on his shoulder – johnny thought subconsciously, above all his concern, was his own exhaustion, what possibly could liu kang be barging inside his room for?

"come.. we must go." the lord said, it was not a simple ask, moreso an obligation.

this was it.

the .. the thing he had promised months ago, though at this point, it's felt like years for johnny.. this was.. this was gonna be the thing that would change the arc of his life..

for the better?

nah, how could it be? when you were... dead.

and he couldn't have done anything to prevent it. hell, liu kang couldn't. so how's this for the better? if it's without you?

he shrugged the thought off, he has to focus on now, as he walked alongside valiant warriors facing up against those who cowered up those stairs that descended from the heavens down to this hellscape.

"let's fucking dance" he'd say to himself, bouncing up and down to pump up in preparation, jazz and all.

then it began ...

cacophonies of war cries echoed from above and from behind him as everyone charged at each other. it was fucking arma fucking geddon. johnny rushed to reach the top, kicking, throwing, and punching anyone in the face, gladly, in their nuts— who got in his way. everytime he did, that sweet killer smile grew on his face, brushing off the sweat and blood that adorned his skin whilst continuing his descent towards the skies.

he was well on his way, when something suddenly clung to his ankle and dragged him down a LOT. "fuck!" he cursed out before trying to get back up, seeing who this fucker was trying to come for him, he was having none of it.

it was...

him.

"well if it isn't.. me" the other johnny seemed almost taken aback seeing johnny,

"just gonna put this out there, i'm the sexy one." johnny would taunt at him even when he was slightly struggling to get on his feet but he found himself bouncing right again ready to take this son of a bitch who was another version of himself, the other would just scoff, "yeah? well i'm sexier." a smirk etched on his stupid face, he would regret that for sure, johnny thought.

the other would launch forceballs at johnny but his were red, it was nothing to our ol' jonathan – dodging it like the plague. punishing the other with a crushing blow to the sternum with his shadow kick. he would laugh at his other who'd fall on his ass, groaning in pain, he'd go back to running up where he was supposed to go.

he ran and ran like there was no tomorrow, because it really felt like there wasn't gonna be anymore. he threw forceballs at anyone who got in his way, not caring anymore, he was gonna get up there and stop this shit.

and he got so close, closer, and closer!

and.. finally, he was there.

wow.. that was.. easy.

he'd scoff at the absurdity, that proved to be a mistake– when he got knocked down a few the pavement of the heavens.

"ow, what the fuck" he kept cursing, everyone's out for him today, no, literally.

he was about to crush the son of a bitch who tried him without pulling back his punches this time, when suddenly his arm clashes with theirs and time is stuck and still, as his eyes gaze back to the same eyes he'd missed terribly.

"...y/n..?" a call to the wind, above a whisper but beneath a yell, his heart doesn't know whether to pick up its pace in absolute euphoria or to slow down and cherish the small time in seeing you again.

oh he was so happy... so happy, he'd let his guard down.. as you did, surprisingly.

"you're alive..." a revelation to him.

an even bigger revelation to you,

who was this man? and why was he looking at you like this? ... nobody, you don't know this creep. you're alive? when had you not been?

"more than ever." you'd say, before swiftly moving forward to knee him in the groin. he'd groan aloud from the heavy impact.

kung lao hissed imagining the agony johnny must've experienced, "hurt like a bitch" johnny described poorly, eyes down, almost as if he wasn't upset at it, finding humor in the interaction with.. someone who resembled you. he almost laughed, but he'd smile smally instead.

he knows. he knows that lookalike wasn't you, because he remembers the you he'd known.

and he had no intention of forgetting you, ever. because across all the timelines that existed, of all the y/n's and the johnny's out there.

to him, the only y/n that mattered was you. and he knows you shared that sentiment. he was wholeheartedly yours, just the same way, you were his.

he would mourn you, for life.