#the water was cold and clear and lovely

[asthevermincrawls]

[l3m0nflavoredst1mz]

clear stimboard 🧊

🧊 🫧 🥽

🥽 🧊 🫧

🫧 🥽 🧊

[fearandhatred]

i always have to have something wrong with me at all times and there are always about fifteen different factors that could have caused that Something Wrong With Me so i can never fix it

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent things.. mostly just writing screenshots lol

[acourtofquestions]

"I didn't break," she said quietly. His heart cracked at the words. "I didn't tell them anything."

She didn't say it for praise, to boast. But rather to tell him, her consort, of where they stood in this war. What their enemies might know.

"I knew you wouldn't," he managed to say.

"She ... she tried to convince me that this was the bad dream. When Cairn was done with me, or during it, I don't know, she'd try to worm her way into my mind." She glanced around the cave, as if she could see the world beyond it. "She spun fantasies that felt so real..." She bobbed under the surface. Perhaps she'd needed the cooling water of the lake to be able to hear her own voice again; perhaps she needed the distance between them so she could speak these words. She emerged, slicking back her hair with a hand. "They felt like this."

Half of him didn't want to know, but he asked, "What sort of illusions?"

A long pause. "It doesn't matter now."

Too soon to push—if ever.

Then she asked softly, "How long?"

It took the entirety of his three centuries of training to keep the devastation, the agony for her, from his face. "Two months, three days, and seven hours."

Her mouth tightened, either at the length of time, or the fact that he'd counted every single one of those hours apart.

She ran her fingers through her hair, its strands floating around her in the water. Still too long for two months to have passed. "They healed me after each ... session. So that I stopped knowing what had been done and what was in my mind and where the truth lay." Erase her scars, and Maeve stood a better chance at convincing her none of this was real. "But the healers couldn't remember how long my hair was, or Maeve wanted to confuse me further, so they grew it out." Her eyes darkened at the memory of why, perhaps, they had needed to regrow her hair in the first place.

"Do you want me to cut it back to the length it was when I last saw you?" His words were near-guttural.

"No." Ripples shivered around her. "I want it so I can remember."

What had been done to her, what she'd survived and what she had protected.

Even if the woman treading water before him didn't seem to have vengeance on her mind. Not so much as a hint of the burning rage that fueled her.

He didn't blame her. Knew it would take time, time and distance, to heal the internal wounds. If they could ever really heal at all.

But he'd work with her, help in whatever way he could. And if she never returned to who she had been before this, he would not love her any less.

Aelin dunked her head, and when she emerged, she said, "Maeve was about to put a Valg collar around my neck. She left to retrieve it." The scent of her lingering fear drifted toward him, and Rowan lurched a step closer to the water's edge. "It's why I—why I got away. She had me moved to the army camp for safekeeping, and I ..." Her voice stalled, yet she met his stare. Let him read the words she could not say, in that silent way they'd always been able to communicate. Escape wasn't my intention.

"No, Fireheart," he breathed, shaking his head, horror creeping over him. "There ... there was no collar."

She blinked, head angling. "That was a dream, too?"

His heart cracked as he struggled for the words. Made himself voice them. "No—it was real. Or Maeve thought it was. But the collars, the Valg presence ... It was a lie that we crafted. To draw Maeve out, hopefully away from you and Doranelle."

Only the faint lapping of water sounded. "There was no collar?"

Rowan lowered himself to his knees and shook his head. "I—Aelin, if I'd known what she'd do with the knowledge, what you'd decide to do-"

He might have lost her. Not from Maeve or the gods or the Lock, but from his own damned choices. The lie he'd spun.

Aelin drifted beneath the surface again. So deep that when the flare happened, it was little more than a flutter. The light burst from her, rippling across the lake, illumining the stones, the slick ceiling above. A silent eruption. His breathing turned ragged. But she swam toward the surface again, light streaming off her body like tendrils of clouds. It had nearly vanished when she emerged.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say. Again, that angle of the head. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He did, though. He'd added to her terror, her desperation. He'd— "If you had not planted that lie for Maeve, if she had not told me, I don't think we'd be here right now," she said.

He tried to rein in the twisting in his gut, the urge to reach for her, to beg for her forgiveness. Tried and tried.

She only asked, "What of the others?" She didn't know-couldn't know how and why and where they'd all parted ways. So Rowan told her, as succinctly and calmly as he could.

When he finished, Aelin was quiet for long minutes.

She stared out into the blackness, the rippling of her treading water the only sound. Her body had nearly lost that freshly forged glow.

Then she pivoted back toward him. "Maeve said you and the others were in the North. That you'd been spotted by her spies there. Did you plant that deception for her, too?"

He shook his head. "Lysandra has been thorough, it seems."

Aelin's throat bobbed. "I believed her." It sounded like a confession, somehow.

So Rowan found himself saying, "I told you once that even if death separated us, I would rip apart every world until I found you." He gave her a slash of a smile. "Did you really believe this would stop me?'

She pursed her mouth, and at last, those agonizing emotions began to surface in her eyes. "You were supposed to save Terrasen."

"Considering that the sun shines, I'd say Erawan hasn't won yet. So we'll save it together."

He didn't let himself think of the final cost of destroying Erawan. And Aelin seemed in no hurry to discuss it, either, as she said, "You should have gone to Terrasen. It needs you."

"I need you more." He didn't balk from the stark honesty roughening his voice. "And Terrasen will need you, too. Not Lysandra masquerading as you, but you."

A shallow nod. "Maeve raised her army. I doubt it was only to guard me while she was away."

He'd put the thought aside, to consider later. "It might just be to shore up her defenses, should Erawan win across the sea."

"Do you truly think that's what she plans to do with it?"

"No," he admitted. "I don't."

And if Maeve meant to bring that army to Terrasen, to either unite with Erawan or simply be another force battering their kingdom, to strike when they were weakest, they had to hurry. Had to get back. Immediately. His mate's eyes shone with the same understanding and dread.

Aelin's throat bobbed as she whispered, "I'm so tired, Rowan."

His heart strained again. "I know, Fireheart."

He opened his mouth to say more, to coax her onto land so he might at least hold her if words couldn't ease her burden, but that's when he saw it.

A boat, ancient and every inch of it carved, drifted out of the gloom.

"Get back to shore." The boat wasn't drifting—it was being tugged. He could just barely make out two dark forms slithering beneath the surface.

Aelin didn't hesitate, yet her strokes remained steady as she swam for him. She didn’t balk at the hand he extended, and he wrapped his cloak around her while the boat ambled past.

But Aelin turned toward them, hair dripping onto the stone at her bare feet. Half a thought from her could have had her dry, yet she made no move to do so. "We're being hunted."

"We know that," Lorcan shot back, and were it not for the fact that Aelin was currently allowing him to rest a hand upon her shoulder, Rowan would have thrown the male into the lake.

But Aelin's features didn't shift from that graveness, that unruffled calm. "The only way to the sea is through these caves." It was an outrageous claim.

"And I suppose they told you that?" Lorcan's face was hard as granite.

"Watch it," Rowan snarled. Fenrys indeed bared his teeth at the dark-haired warrior, fur bristling. But Aelin said simply, "Yes." Her chin didn't dip an inch. "The land above is crawling with soldiers and spies. Going beneath them is the only way."

Elide stepped forward. "I will go." She cut a cold glance toward Lorcan. "You can take your chances above, if you're so disbelieving." Lorcan's jaw tightened, and a small part of Rowan relished seeing the delicate Lady of Perranth fillet the centuries-hardened warrior with a few words. "Considering the potential pitfalls of the situation is wise."

"We don't have time to consider," Rowan cut in before Elide could voice the retort on her tongue. "We need to keep moving. Gavriel stalked forward to study the moored boat and what seemed to be bundles of supplies on its sturdy planks. "How will we navigate our way, though?"

"We'll be escorted," Aelin answered.

"And if they abandon us?" Lorcan challenged. Aelin leveled unfazed eyes upon him.

"Then you'll have to find a way out, I suppose." A hint-just a spark-of temper belied those calm words. There was nothing else to debate after that.

And they had little to pack. The others gave Aelin privacy to dress by the fire while they inspected the boat, and when his mate emerged again, clad in boots, pants, and various layers beneath her gray surcoat, the sight of her in clothes from Mistward was enough to make his gut clench.

No longer a naked, escaped captive. Yet none of that wickedness, that joy and unchecked wildness illuminated her face.

The rest of their party waited on the boat, seated on the benches built into its high-lipped sides. Fenrys and Elide both sat as seemingly far from Lorcan as they could get, Gavriel a golden, long-suffering buffer between them.

Rowan lingered at the shore's edge, a hand extended for Aelin while she approached. Each of her steps seemed considered—as if she still marveled at being able to move freely. As if still adjusting to her legs without the burden of chains.

"Why?" Lorcan mused aloud, more to himself. "Why go to these lengths for us?"

He got his answer—they all did—a heartbeat later. Aelin halted a few feet away from the boat and Rowan's outstretched hand. She turned back toward the cave itself. The Little Folk peeked from those birch branches, from the rocks, from behind stalagmites. Slowly, deeply, Aelin bowed to them. Rowan could have sworn all those tiny heads lowered in answer.

A pair of bony grayish hands rose above a nearby rock, something glittering held between them, and set the object on the stone.

Rowan went still. A crown of silver and pearl and diamond gleamed there, fashioned into upswept swan's wings

"The Crown of Mab," Gavriel breathed. But Fenrys looked away, toward the looming dark, his tail curling around him.

Aelin staggered a step closer to the crown. "It—it fell into the river."

Rowan didn't want to know how she'd encountered it, why she'd seen it fall into a river. Maeve had kept her sisters' two crowns under constant guard, only bringing them out to be displayed in her throne room on state occasions. In memory of her siblings, she'd intoned. Rowan had sometimes wondered if it was a reminder that she had outlasted them, had kept the throne for herself in the end.

The grayish hand slipped over the rock's edge again and nudged the crown in silent gesture. Take it.

"You want to know why?" Gavriel softly asked Lorcan as Aelin strode for the rock. Nothing but solemn reverence on her face. "Because she is not only Brannon's Heir, but Mab's, too."

A throwback to her great-great-grandmother, Maeve had taunted her. Who had inherited her strength, her immortal lifespan.

Aelin's fingers closed around the crown, lifting it gently. It sparkled like living moonlight between her hands.

My sister Mab's line ran true, Elide claimed Maeve had said on the beach. In every way, it seemed.

But Aelin made no move to don the crown while she approached him once more, her gait steadier this time. Trying not to dwell on the unbearable smoothness of her hand as it wrapped around his, Rowan helped her aboard, then climbed in himself before freeing the ropes tethering them to the shore.

Gavriel went on, awe in every word, "And that makes her their queen, too."

Aelin met Gavriel's gaze, the crown near-glowing in her hands. "Yes," was all she said as the boat sailed into the darkness.

[17020]

AMOR!!! NEW THEME IS SO CUTE ^ ^

THANK YOUUUUU!!! 🫂

[transgender-catboy]

Oh?! You think you don't get anon haters huh?! Do ya?! DO YA?! Weeeelllll buddy do I have NEWS FOR YOU!!!!

I☝️, an Anon🕶️, Think💭 You're🫵 STINKY🤢

AND CRINGE😬

AND GAY🏳️‍🌈

also I'm not stinky! I showered today!

[starrynightarchive]

persian red

hello zhi <3

greece. greece would fucking fix me. i

[sassygwaine]

a reminder for my fellow stoners out there:

you deserve a clean bong/pipe/whatever implement you use

[smellpelt]

absolutely fucked up my feet on the rocks at the beach okay not that bad but still owowowowow

[burning-sol]

hey u ppl..... who put valentines card on my desk..... and gave me flowerss..... ummm i dont know you that well. or may have missed you. but thank you. i hand you a single dandelion in return. anyways.

*walks out and down the incredibly long corridor and enters my mutual's office on the left to commit to more platonic flirting*

[artemisiatridentata]

caught up with a good friend tonight, we’ve texted and talked on social media but this is the first time in possibly a year that we’ve actually talked on the phone, and it was so refreshing and renewing. he’s one of the smartest and most inspiring people I know — just overflowing with care for people and the planet and actually walking the talk. anyways it turns out we both just started reading The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life In Capitalist Ruins by Anna Tsing and we’re going to talk again and discuss it once I’ve caught up to where he is and I am SO excited!!! :))

[watering-plastic-plants]

the weather in reykjavik today was kinda perfect for me specifically

[nochepsicodelica]

The door to your shared bedroom creaks open, and Toji is greeted by the sight of you sleeping. It's five in the afternoon and you're bundled up in the covers, soft breaths exiting through your mouth because your nose is congested. You look all cozy, like a hibernating bear, on his side of the bed. It would be a more adorable sight under different circumstances, but this is the product of you catching a cold.

Toji sets the small bag filled with your medicine and other little things he hopes will make you feel better, on his nightstand. He crouches down in front of you and brings a noticeably cooler hand to your heated cheek.

"Hey," Toji calls, gently pinching your cheek. Your hearing must be muffled, because you don't budge and remain in your deep sleep. "Ma," he tries again, shaking you by your shoulder this time. You stir and attempt to roll over in the other direction, towards the center of the bed, but Toji keeps you steady by tugging on the blanket you're cocooned in. "Wake up, mama. Just for a little. I got your stuff. Medicine, snacks— you probably won't be able to taste them, but they're there."

You open your eyes, and simply blink. The room is darker and more shadowy since you went down for your supposed nap. It's been hours, but your body still feels so tired and your head is pulsing.

"How are you feeling?" Toji asks.

You were trying to say "so so", but no sound came out, so it seemed like you were mouthing the words instead. You felt the effort your vocal cords made, but your voice was shot. Nothing is audible unless it's strained. A huff and a roll of your eyes let Toji know how bad of a time you were having.

"Gotcha," Toji responds to your attempt to speak, a soft smile on his face.

He stands up from his crouched position and turns to the bag on his nightstand, rummaging through it to grab the box of medicine at the bottom and your water bottle. He sees you untangling yourself from the covers and sitting up to rest against the headboard, in his peripheral vision. Your hair is messy, some of it is stuck to your forehead from how much you've been sweating, even though you've felt cold the whole time. You can't breathe properly out of your nose, and your throat is sore. Your entire demeanor just screams "sick".

Toji offers you two gel capsules and twists the cap off your bottle of water, before handing it to you as well. You toss the pills into your mouth, and wash them down with a swig of water. In an attempt to clear your nose, you sniff a few times, getting absolutely no change in your ability to breathe through your nose.

"Go back to sleep. I'll get you some soup for when you wake up, 'kay?"

You nod and set your water bottle down on Toji's nightstand, before you slide back down the bed and shift comfortably onto your side. The blanket is wrapped around you, again, and you're ready to shut your eyes. Toji comes closer, crouching down like he did when he woke you up.

"Mm-mm," you hum, the sound cracked and barely audible, a response to Toji leaning in and trying to kiss you.

"Come on, ma. It's been a whole day. Just one. A peck?"

"No," you whisper, only able to communicate verbally in this hushed voice.

"Oh. You want me to have two?" He says, with a playful smirk.

You give him a deadpan expression and shift in the blanket, bringing it up to cover your mouth.

"Okay, fine. Just one."

You shake your head, minimally. Just enough so that you don't shake your brain and make your head hurt even more, and he still gets the message.

"Be nice, mama. Just one, then i'll leave you alone--" he pauses, briefly, "--until I come back with your soup. Then you gotta give me another one. You know, Toji Tax."

You roll your eyes and huff. The Toji Tax is just Toji's way of getting extra loving from you. There's a Toji Tax on just about everything he does for you, so you're not surprised that your sickness doesn't exempt you from it.

Your reaction showed the signs that let Toji know that he's about to get what he wants. The barrier you raised over your mouth is lowered, your involuntary pout now on full display, ready to be kissed whenever Toji's ready.

"Don't look too excited," Toji jests. He chuckles at the gloomy expression on your face. You look absolutely miserable in this state. It's adorable, and while he would love to keep teasing you, he decides to move faster so that you can get your rest.

It starts with a peck—as promised. He's slow with separating his lips from yours, to keep the contact with you going for as long as possible. Then he goes in for another one—just as gentle and delayed in separation. You still haven't done anything to stop him, so he keeps going in for more and more, each kiss more fervent than the last. Within seconds, he's barraging you with quick kisses, back to back, as if to make up for the last twenty-four hours he went without feeling your soft lips against his. He's getting closer, almost climbing into bed with you, so you hum and turn your head. He starts following your movement, like an eager puppy, chasing after more of your kisses.

"Don't care if I get sick, ma."

You hum in disapproval and push his face away when he starts leaning in, again. Quickly, you cover your head with the blanket and roll to the other side of the bed.

Toji sighs, a mischievous smirk lingering on his face. He got way more than he expected, but when it comes to you, he can never have enough. He stands up from the awkward position he got himself into while he chased after your lips, and looks at your bundled up figure, now out of his reach.

"I'll be back, doll. Gonna go get your soup, but remember... Toji Tax."

[uglygirltrying]

wolf-hybrid!simon x bunny-hybrid!reader | PT3 | pt2 | pt1 |

apparently simon wasn't the only one who loved your scent.

other males had been trespassing on his territory, coming dangerously close to his den. to you.

simon tried to make his scent more pronounced. to keep them away. to keep his bunny safe.

fortunately, so far, no one had been brave enough, to deliberately come after you. and simon thought that nobody would be.

until that day.

simon had left for water that evening. he wouldn't have been gone for long. it was always risky to leave you alone, without his protection. but simon promised to be quick.

unfortunately, that was enough time for him.

you shouldn't have been so naïve. so stupid. you should've stayed vigilant. but you were just cleaning the den. you didn't feel threatened. you felt safe.

heavy thumps on top of the den. that's what you heard first. you looked up, a little bit of dirt fell down from the den ceiling, and dropped on your head. it must be simon. it has to be. right?

but then. there was slow struggling at the den's entrance. you couldn't see it, it was behind a curve. but you could hear it. simon didn't have to struggle to get inside. it was his den after all, it was just big enough, to let him inside.

maybe he was just struggling with the water. yeah. it's simon, you tried to reassure yourself.

"s-simon...?" your voice was meek, scared, unsure. you've stopped messing with the nest, now only focused on the noises coming from the den's entrance.

the obvious struggles at the entrance stopped.

why? simon would give you an answer, wouldn't he?

the weather was beautiful. there was only few clouds covering the blue sky. the sun glared down, hot and bright. it made the snowbanks sparkle beautifully.

the hot light made the snow melt away, uncovering calm, small rapid. the clear water ran over the rocks underneath it's surface. only more and more snow kept melting into the water, small droplets falling down from the melting ice, and snow.

simon knelt by the river. filling a carved, wooden bucket, with the cold, refreshing water.

he had to keep himself, and the bunny hydrated, after all.

the bucket filled pretty quickly, and simon was ready to head back to the den.

the snow crunched under his steps. simons hot breath came out as steam, as it hit the cold air. frost was starting to form on the tips of his hair.

the wolf's movements stilled, as smell hit his nose. a musk. another male.

simon dropped the water filled bucket, and began to run. you were alone. hopefully you were alone.

but he wasn't there to protect you. oh, god.

panic flared inside simon, his heart beating out of his chest.

the den was just a rocks throw away from the river. simon was quickly there. that didn't calm him down. somebody was kneeling at the den's entrance, trying to dig in. trying to get to his bunny.

simon panted heavily as he approached. the trespasser heard him coming. with a smirk on his face, the intruder turned around, to look at simon. simon's hands clenched into fists, his skin turning white.

he gritted his teeth. "mace." the wolfs voice resembled a growl.

here this bear was, trying to steal his bun. simon knew him, a territorial rival. and now he was attempting to take his fucking mate. his mate. his.

the black bear chuckled darkly, as he stood up.

"can smell her... you're hiding a sweet thing in there..."

"time for you to go, mace." simon grumbled.

mace grinned. "i'll leave you be, for now."

he walked down from the den's entrance, towards simon.

"might wanna keep her in there. never know when she's going to get snatched up."

mace's shoulder knocked against simon's, when he walked past him.

simon was fuming. his whole body moved, as he took heavy breaths.

the wolf listened, until the sound of footsteps faded away, before rushing to the mouth of the den.

"bun? come here." he called out, into the tunnel.

he had to wait a moment, before he saw your head sticking out of the hole.

simon sighed. "come here..." he signaled for you to come closer with his hand. slowly, and hesitantly, you crawled to the entrance of the den, where he was waiting for you.

"you okay, bun?" simon mumbled, his hand gently holding your cheek. after a meek nod of your head, simon leaned in and kissed your forehead.

simon leaned away, and gently guided you back down into the den, following suite after you. once you were down in the nest, simon made sure to hold you tight against his chest.

"you know that I would never let anything happen to you. you know that, don't you, bunny?" the wolf murmured into your ear, his free hand slowly making it's way down your stomach.

"what can i do to calm you down, huh? you're still shaking." his hot breath hitting your ear. simon was being sneaky. before you even knew it, his calloused fingers, pinched your nub.

he chuckled at the squeal you let out. his fingers began to gently massage your little clit.

"i'll never let that happen again. okay?" his voice got more serious, and his touch harder. your legs kicked out at the increasing pressure on your sensitive clit.

his touch didn't relent. it only got more determined.

determined to distract you from the scary situation, you had to go through.

determined to make you feel good.

the feeling was foreign. his touch was so tough, just like him. but his words were so sweet. the pressure in your belly grew. your breathing got heavier. simon noticed. with a wicked smirk on his face, his movements got faster.

"give it to me. c'mon bunny... i know you want to." he so meanly teased.

it just suddenly hit you. your legs tensed up, and your breath hitched. luckily, simon decided to show you mercy. he helped you get down from your bliss, before pulling his hand from in between your sweet thighs. your juices coated his fingers. simon grinned at the sight.

the bunny was now completely limp in his arms, panting and exhausted. simon wiped his dirty fingers against the fur on your stomach. simon's hand grabbed your chin, turning your head to look at him.

"go to sleep, bunny..." he murmured quietly, laying you against his side. his arms rested around you, in a protective hold. he couldn't even imagine how scary it must've been for you, being trapped down here, with no way out, while somebody was trying to crawl inside.

but just as he promised, simon would never let it happen again.

authors note: that poor bucket, alone in the cold forest :(

heart divider by @roseschoices

taglist (honestly i'm pretty lost who's on it and who isn't😭):

@famouscattale @nappingmoon @tame-the-lion-writes @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @distinguishedprincesstrash @yourfavreggie @rorowingaboat @limeleag @sushiumex @aldis-nuts (won't find it sorry) @the-palelady

COMMENT TO GET ON THIS TAGLIST 😠

[maskedbyghost]

jealous!Simon is on my mind 24/7

even better if the two of you are secretly fucking bc he is scared of feelings, commitment, relationships, and blah blah blah…

and simon wasn’t used to feeling jealous. he had trained his emotions out of him long ago, or so he thought. but as he stood in the doorway, watching you stroll across the shared kitchen on the base, your back turned to him, the name "mactavish" boldly displayed on the long-sleeved shirt you wore, something twisted in his chest.

the sight of you wearing his shirt, so casually, stung in a way simon hadn’t expected. he cleared his throat, trying to sound indifferent, but the edge in his voice betrayed him. "that’s johnny’s shirt."

"i know." was the only thing you said, smirking since he couldn't see your face. you knew exactly what you were doing, but in that moment, you didn’t care.

"why is johnny's shirt on you?" simon asked, his voice low but tight with tension. he tried to keep his tone neutral, but the undercurrent of jealousy and frustration was hard to hide. seeing you in johnny’s shirt stirred something uncomfortable deep inside him, a mix of possessiveness and insecurity that he wasn't used to feeling. he hated how something so simple made his chest tighten, how the sight of you in someone else’s name made him feel like he was losing control of the one thing he was afraid to admit he cared about.

"oh, he gave it to me because i was cold," you said, pouting slightly as you turned around to face the only man you ever wanted "he is such a nice guy."

simon managed a slight nod, his mind blanking from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. everything felt too much, too fast. meanwhile, you casually turned your back to him again, giving him another clear view of soap's name stretched across your shoulders as you began making your tea. the tiny grumble that escaped simon’s lips didn’t go unnoticed—it sent a wave of satisfaction through you, a small victory that made your day. you loved torturing him. and, after all, he did deserved it.

frustrated, he walked over to the sink, grabbing a glass of water, hoping it would cool the fire raging inside. but as he turned, his grip slipped, and the water splashed across your front. simon froze, watching the water drip down your shirt, half-shocked and half-relieved for the excuse to make the shirt disappear.

simon froze, his eyes glued to the water dripping down your shirt. after a beat of silence, he muttered, "well, guess you’ll need to take that off now. what a shame."

shocked, you watched as he put the glass down and left the room, still feeling the cold water seeping through the fabric. did he seriously just accidentally splash you and then walk out like nothing happened? that bitch.

*

later, as you slept in your bed, wearing your shirt this time, you stirred slightly at the feeling of someone’s arms wrapping around you. you didn’t even need to open your eyes or turn around—you already knew who it was. that familiar warmth could only belong to simon.

"simon?" you muttered groggily, barely able to make out the shape of him in the dim light. "what are you doing here?"

"shh, just sleep, pretty girl," he whispered softly, his breath warm against your ear. "i just wanted to apologize for how i acted earlier."

"i'm listening," you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper.

simon’s arms tightened around you as he spoke. “i’m sorry for earlier. i know i’ve been pushin' you away and acting like an idiot. seein' you in johnny’s shirt... it just brought out this jealousy i didn’t want to admit i had. i hate feelin' like i’m not enough, or that someone else might have a piece of you. the truth is, i want you to be only mine. i can’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else. i just wanted you to know that, even if i messed everythin' up.”

“well, isn’t this a surprise? i didn’t realize it took me wearing johnny's shirt for you to admit your feelings.” you said with a hint of a smile, turning around to kiss him softly. simon sighed into the kiss, his arms wrapping around you with a sense of relief and affection.

simon pulled back slightly, his eyes intense as he rested his forehead on yours “i mean it, you know. you’re mine—only mine. no one else gets to touch what’s mine.” his voice was firm, yet tender, which made his words more meaningful.

"did you have a similar conversation with soap?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

simon grinned, leaning in even closer. “yep, told him to keep his wardrobe to himself unless he wanted a 'property of simon' label slapped on everything he owns.” he sealed his words with a gentle, lingering kiss, his lips tenderly brushing against yours as if to mark his claim in the most intimate way.

*

soap: so, i guess it worked?

y/n: your shirt got wet, but i got what i wanted. thanks, bestie.  

soap: i think i got worse treatment from simon than the shirt did, but anything for my two lovebirds.