#Nothing and Everythin

[moochilatv]

Mr. Gnome presents: Nothing and Everything

Mr. Gnome’s swirling “Nothing and Everything” is a lush soundscape that spotlights Barille’s golden harmonies & demonstrates the dense tapestry of textures, aural fabrics, and influences subsumed.

On Wednesday (26 of june 2024), Cleveland art-rock duo Mr. Gnome will be announcing their new album A Sliver of Space out September 27th via El Marko Records. While always pushing themselves in their pursuit of sonic exploration, the duo of Nicole Barille and Sam Miester, create a living, breathing, shapeshifting realm of psychedelic sounds. The album is mixed by Claudius Mittendorfer (Interpol, Tennis, Temples, Parquet Courts, Ra Ra Riot).

The swirling first single “Nothing and Everything,” which is a lush soundscape that spotlights Barille’s golden harmonies and demonstrates the growing confidence that duo has made in the studio since their last album, 2020’s The Day You Flew Away. They will be announcing full North American tour for the fall as well. 

Continuing to defy simple genre classification, Mr. Gnome create a dense tapestry of textures, aural fabrics, and influences that all coalesce into a unique, defining sound. Throughout its relatively compact runtime, electronica, desert rock, psych, indie rock, and lush soundscapes swirl and converge. They’ve received acclaim from the likes of Rolling Stone (named "Band To Watch" in a spotlight review), NPR, Consequence, Paste, Esquire, Spin, Magnet, MTV, KEXP, and more.

Mr. Gnome - Fall 2024 Tour Dates

08/24 • Lexington, KY • Expansion Music Fest • The Burl

09/27 • Wheeling, WV • Waterfront Hall 

09/28 • Frostburg, MD • The Deep End

10/01 • Washington, D.C. • Pie Shop

10/04 • Pensacola, FL • The Handlebar

10/05 • Adams, TN • Spoopy Festival

10/08 • St. Louis, MO • The Platypus

10/09 • Grand Rapids, MI • Pyramid Scheme

10/10 • Madison, WI • Gamma Ray Bar

10/11 • Columbus, OH • Ace of Cups

10/12 • Dayton, OH • Dayton 20th Music Fest - Blind Bob’s

10/14 • Kansas City, MO • Sister Anne’s Records and Coffee

10/15 • Denver, CO • Lost Lake 

10/16 • Salt Lake City, UT • The DLC

10/17 • Boise, ID • Shrine Social Club (Basement)

10/18 • Portland, OR • Star Theater

10/19 • Seattle, WA • Sunset Tavern

10/22 • San Francisco, CA • Bottom of the Hill

10/23 • Los Angeles, CA • Permanent Records Roadhouse

10/25 • Tucson, AZ • 191 Toole

10/26 • Albuquerque, NM • Juno Brewery

11/01 • Chicago, IL • Beat Kitchen

11/02 • Cleveland, OH • Beachland Ballroom 

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[erabu-san]

I enjoyed every second of this quest

[This art has platonic intention. Thank you for not tag ship!]

[ethosiab]

we're doing reqs? groveling on the floor. team canada please. doing anything you feel like it. being stupid (every day with them)

sci-fi au team canada! (or uhm. one version of them). right after beef and pause meet 404 and agree to help him :D

First they gotta give him some non-bloody clothes that fit, Etho's old ones should work, right?

[leopold7fold]

fuck i started looking for mutuals but forgot to include my intense love for shane from stardew valley

[bat-connoisseur]

wanting to create SO BAD but having zero actual artistic energy or ideas is one of the most fustrating things ever methinks.

[beatcroc]

madethem on flightrising btw

[todayisafridaynight]

DID YOU MISS THE EXAM... Either way I can believe in that superstition for a sec I'm so sorry 😭😭😭

NONO I TOOK IT. BARELY. I BARELY TOOK IT. I JUST THOUGHT CLASS WAS GOING TO BE NORMAL BUT NOPE <3<3<3

[erabu-san]

I enjoyed every second of this quest This art has platonic intention, please don't tag ship

[mooterus]

gauthier leading tournament scoring through 2 games... well yes!

[moonsoir]

the growing lack of third spaces leading to children having nothing to do outside after school leading to the criminalization of 'hanging out' (aka loitering) is something that will never not baffle me

[milty-nightmares]

I love tfs so much I might as well explode thanks God for all the people that worked on tf one to make me watch it and fall deeply in love with the series and everything it is. Oh boy do I want to explode everytime j discover new things, I'm slowly easing my way to the comics cuz I want to read idw so bad but I'm not sure if I should read the others

Skybound has me on a chokehold tho, I miss you baby bee

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

nothing ever changes I'm so fucking tired of being this way

[the-palelady]

You were a nurse at what could barely be called a clinic, simply a little office inside the just as meager town hall. However, you still took your job seriously, tending to your patient’s one by one, never allowing any of them to step outside of the clinic until they were glowing like the afternoon sun sitting high in the sky when it was right at its peak.

You didn’t hear the trudge of his boots, and the jingle of his spurs when he first stepped inside your corner of the building. Your focus was settled on the woman before you, one palm resting idly on her swollen belly whilst you went about the regular check of her vitals.

“How are you doing besides all this?” you asked her with a smile, grabbing your notes, and tapping them on the table beside you.

“Everythin s’alright. Just can’t wait for this little stinker to hurry on out.” You and the young woman giggle together at her statement, your hand pressing against the hand sitting on her belly.

“Any day now and they’ll be with us. Just take it easy, and leave the heavy lifting to that husband of yours, hm?” Joining hands, you help her stand while she lets out another laugh. The two of you exchange a few more words before she bids you goodbye.

The office was now silent save for the tap of your pen meeting paper as you wrapped up the rest of your notes, and your hushed murmuring.

But when you turned to face the rest of the office, the dark figure sitting on a chair in the corner of the room hardly registers to you.

First you do a double take, then you squeal. The book that housed your notes clambers to the floor, bouncing once and then lying open on the wood floors.

"How...How long have you-"

"Not long, ma'am."

Ghost he called himself. Fitting since that is how he showed up in town; metastasizing from nothing, joining the daily squabble of the little town you called home as if he had lived there his entire life.

Now here he sat in your office, handkerchief wrapped around the palm of his hand, the tanned fabric fading into a dark shade of red.

You barely paid any mind to his words, your brain solely fixating on the wound that he had lazily wrapped. Your feet moved with a mind of their own, leading you to the sterile needles and thread that sat on the doctor's surgical tray.

Blood was no stranger to you. This was the west. People came and went with wounds of different calibers every week, so a simple gash to the palm of someone's hand was nothing.

You go into autopilot, paying no mind to the curious look Ghost gives you when you pull up a chair in front of him, grabbing his wrist with a delicacy you gave all of your patient's bleeding or not.

The wound itself was still bleeding, however not as much as it clearly had been before. It was a nasty, deep cut that made even you wince at the sight.

"I'm going to clean this up as best as I can. Just be still. It might sting a bit." You peeked up from under your lashes, not expecting him to already be staring at you, his dark gaze forcing your skin to heat up a few degrees.

"Do what ya need to do, doc."

A breathy laugh left you, "Hardly a doctor. I'm just a nurse. The doctor's out doing house calls at the moment."

He hums in response, and observes you silently while you go about tending to the gash. You've done this long enough that it doesn't take much time for you to get the wound cleaned up and sutured, wrapping gauze around the width of his hand.

"Work just s'well as a doctor. Maybe faster."

His words pull you from your haze, a deep rumble that has your grip on his warm hand loosening.

"O-Oh...I've just done this a lot." You bite the inside of your cheek at the sound of your stuttering.

The silence that follows isn't uncomfortable, but it's unwelcome. You can hear the blood flowing in your ears, your brain working overtime to get you to speak up. You're painfully aware of his hand that is still resting in the palm of yours.

"Thanks for the patch up," Ghost stands, and that's when the words finally find you.

"No need to thank me," your movements match his, coming to your full height, "just make sure to keep it cleaned. Try to avoid doing anything that'll open the sutures. If it does open and starts bleeding again cover it with these."

You press some gauze into his unwounded hand, and he gives you a simple nod.

Taking a step back your able to fully see him, his amber colored eyes that were once so easy to see now hidden by the shadow of the hat that rested on top of his head. The rest of his face was obscured by a black bandana, the fabric dirtied from a long day of work.

"Well then," you start, "if you need anything else feel free to come back in. I'm sure the doctor would be more than happy to help you."

He considers your words for a moment, arms crossing over his chest as he looks down at you.

"And what if it's not the doctor I want help from?"

[readwritealldayallnight]

“You having fun there, Si?”

“‘Course.”

“‘Cause you look like you’re having a lot of fun right now.”

“I’m here aren’t I?” He snaps at you without thinking, immediately catching himself with a shake of the head when he spots your raised brow. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know I’m pushing you out of your comfort zone. But Simon we’re safe here, I promise you.” You attempt to reassure him, still intent on making the most out of this trip together

One year

365 days

An entire trip around the sun since the day you and Simon met for the first time

And not a day has gone by since without each of you holding the other’s heart in the palm of your hands

Though Simon would do quite literally anything for you, he’d been less than impressed when you’d dropped the boarding passes in his hand last night

You’d been reminiscing to him about the holidays you used to take each summer with your family while growing up, memories of building sand castles and burying siblings until only their heads were visible, visions of waves lapping at your toes and seashells in your hands, images of melting ice creams cones and chasing pesky seagulls until the sun set

Memories that Simon could not relate to, could only smile and nod along as you told him about missing a time when you could be so care free

“Wonder what tha’ was like.” He’d said offhandedly to you that night as you both stood at the kitchen sink, his large hands passing off the clean dishes for you to dry

The idea of Simon having never enjoyed a family holiday when he was young made your heart ache, but thinking about Simon never having had a holiday, never having had a chance to slow down and relax, to enjoy himself for once in his life, well that left a foul taste in your mouth that you were determined to change

You’d had to pull some strings, even go so far as sneaking behind his back to arrange the time off with his Captain, who’d agreed wholeheartedly with you that his Lieutenant was in need of a holiday but who’d laughed when he bid you good luck in telling Simon as much

The suitcases were secretly packed while he worked, the plane tickets purchased as he slept, the secluded beach house with private access to the water booked while he was busy with making dinner one evening, your plan coming to fruition while your lover was none the wiser

As excited as you were, his reaction had been just about what you’d expected

Grumbling about how it was unnecessary, too risky, too dangerous, he’d wanted to reject the idea entirely from the get go, to flat out say no, though deep down he knew he could never truly tell you no

That was how Simon found himself on a beautiful, private beach, miles away from any military base, without another soul in sight apart from the one linked to his own, all while he tried his best to continue sulking in the sun

“Can’t know tha’ for sure, love.”

“Simon, this place had the best rating I could find, promises to be totally private. It isn’t peak tourist season, we’re far out from the city. Plus we literally used fake names on everything, I think we’re going to be fine.” You tried to rationalize, though knowing his past and how preoccupied his mind could become, you knew you were essentially speaking to a brick wall at the moment

“Anythin’ could happen, can’t account for everythin’.” He argued, adjusting the sunglasses over his eyes as he scanned the surroundings yet again, not enjoying how exposed he felt out here clad in nothing more than the swim shorts and sunscreen you’d packed for him

“You’re right, anything could happen.” You agreed with a shrug, dropping the last of the beach gear onto the sand, reaching for the bottom of your sundress. “But I can tell you what’s going to happen right now. I’m going to go swim in the water, because I want to, and because I can. You can join me, or you can sit here and mope, but I have a feeling you’ll change your mind. And because it’s our anniversary and because I love you, I won’t even say I told you so.”

He’s just about to tell you that that’s far from likely, that he’s certain he’ll be staying under the shade of the umbrella he’s about to stick in the sand, that he’ll be the smart one here and keep look out for the danger he’s decided is certain to happen, when you stop any logical thought of his in its tracks, as you lift up your arms and peel off your dress, revealing the bathing suit you’re wearing underneath

He’s seen you naked before hundreds if not thousands of time at this point, seen your body form every angle imaginable and more, had you in every way he could ever dream of

So why is the sight of your swaying hips walking away from him the most enticing thing he thinks he’s ever seen? The view of your ass in the skin tight material of your bathing suit the first thing to really give him pause?

No

No, he’s not going to let himself fall for that, he’s not going to cave so easily, not when you’re both in a new place like this, so exposed-

All the fight is nearly drained out of him, when he sees your arms reach up behind your back, your head angling enough to meet his eyes just as your steady fingers untie the strings that hold your top in place, letting the material fall to your feet as you continue making your way towards the shore, a quick wink sent his way before you’re turning your focus to the waves

He gulps loudly, not that he can hear it over the sound of his heart beating rapidly in his damaged ears

He tells himself he’s not going to fall for this, though his grip on the cooler full of drinks is rapidly slipping

Tells himself he’s only just going to pick up your bathing suit top off the ground for you, when his legs decide for themselves to start following you in your wake

He tells himself that he can keep his cool, surely you’ll be quick, that when you emerge from the water, wet droplets rolling off your naked, sun kissed skin, that he can satisfy himself by offering to reapply your sunblock, that the image he’s just conjured up of getting his hands on you soon will be enough to tide him over

But then, of course, you go ahead and slide your hands down the side of your waist, reaching lower until your fingers slipped under the fabric of your bottoms, pushing further and further down until the material is pooled around your ankles, leaving them behind for your ghost to pick up

Fuckin’ hell, he really had said anything could happen, hadn’t he?

Simon’s following you into the water before he fully realizes he’s stepped in, knowing that he’d follow you anywhere at the end of the day

One year down with you

A lifetime to go

[fic-girlie]

Would you write something about Joel and reader (established relationship) having a big fight, like, raising their voice at each other and reader holding back tears and all that. Ellie comes home to it and stops them. Reader leaves and Ellie gives Joel shit for screaming at her. Happy ending please!!

After the storm

Pairing: jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: A late-night fight leaves you in tears and walking out. Ellie steps in, forcing Joel to face what really matters—and fight to fix it. Warnings: established relationship, argument, shouting, crying, make-up, slight angst

The front door slams harder than it needs to.

It rattles through the quiet house, a sharp clap of wood and metal that startles the dog off the rug and leaves a bitter silence hanging in its wake. You pause halfway through drying the dishes, towel clutched between your damp hands, fingers curling into it like it might anchor you.

You already know it’s him.

Joel.

He’s late. Again.

You count the seconds it takes him to hang up his coat, to toe off his boots, to toss his rifle somewhere you’ll have to remind him to clean later. Each sound from the entryway feeds the weight pressing behind your ribs — not worry anymore, but frustration. Sharp. Heavy. Exhausting.

When he rounds the corner, he doesn’t look at you.

And that’s what does it.

"You're late," you say, trying to keep your voice even. Not accusatory. Just... saying it. But it comes out brittle.

He grunts, shrugging off the last of his flannel. "Ran into Tommy. Needed help movin’ somethin’. Wasn't plannin’ on bein' out that long."

No apology. No explanation beyond that.

You dry your hands on the towel slowly, methodically. “I waited for you. Dinner’s cold.”

Joel runs a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s already tired of this. “Didn’t ask you to wait.”

And there it is.

That familiar, subtle sting. Like a match struck too close to your skin.

“You never ask me to wait,” you say, quieter now. “I just do. Because I care.”

He doesn’t answer. Just walks over to the plate you left out and starts eating, cold potatoes and overcooked venison, like it’s nothing. Like your disappointment doesn’t even register.

Your throat tightens.

You cross your arms. “This is the third time this week.”

Joel’s jaw ticks as he chews, but he still doesn’t look at you. “Why’re you makin’ this a thing?”

“Because I’m tired of pretending it’s not a thing, Joel,” you snap, voice rising despite yourself. “You disappear for hours, you barely talk when you’re home, and I’m just supposed to smile and say nothing?”

He sets the fork down too hard on the plate. “I told you—I was helpin’ Tommy.”

“Today you were. What about the other days?”

Joel stands slowly, arms folding across his chest as he looks at you, finally. His eyes are dark and stormy and full of something heavy you can’t name.

“What’re you sayin’? That you don’t trust me now?”

You blink. “No—Jesus, Joel, this isn’t about trust—”

“Then what the hell is it?” His voice cuts through the room like a blade. “You mad I’m not sittin’ at your side every minute of the day? You mad I got other responsibilities?”

Your mouth falls open.

“That’s not fair,” you whisper. “I never asked you to stay glued to me. I just—Joel, I want to feel like I matter to you. Like I’m not just some afterthought.”

“You think I treat you like that?” His voice is louder now. “After everythin’? After all we’ve been through?”

“You’re treating me like that right now!”

The silence that follows is razor-sharp.

Your chest is heaving. You didn’t mean to shout. Didn’t mean to let your voice crack like that. But he just stands there, mouth a hard line, like he doesn’t even see you.

You turn away, blinking fast. “I—I’m not doing this with you, Joel. Not like this.”

But he’s already speaking, words hot and bitter. “Maybe you shouldn’t, if this is how it’s gonna be every damn time I come home.”

Your breath catches.

There it is. The thing you didn’t think he’d say.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the first tear hits your knuckle. You turn your head away, jaw trembling as you force yourself to breathe.

The front door opens again.

“Uh...what the hell is going on?”

Ellie.

You both freeze.

She’s still half-in her coat, backpack slung over one shoulder, brow furrowed as she stares between the two of you. Her voice slices through the tension like a gust of cold wind, and suddenly you feel stupid. Small. Embarrassed to be crying in front of her.

“I was just leaving,” you mumble, grabbing your coat off the hook. Your hands fumble the zipper. “I’ll be back later.”

Joel takes a step toward you. “Wait—”

But Ellie puts a hand on his chest, blocking him.

“No.” Her eyes flash. “You don’t get to yell at her and then stop her.”

“Ellie, this ain’t your—”

“The fuck it isn’t.” Her voice is sharp, furious. “You think I didn’t hear you from halfway down the street? You think she deserves that?”

You’re already halfway out the door.

——

The cold hits your cheeks like punishment.

You walk fast, trying to ignore the burning behind your eyes, the throbbing in your chest. Jackson glows warm behind you, windows full of firelight and laughter and comfort, but you feel like a ghost drifting past it all.

You end up near the stables. Alone.

You sit on a wooden bench, pull your knees up to your chest, and let yourself cry for real.

You’re not mad that he came home late. Not really.

You’re mad because he shut you out. Because you let yourself believe that he had room for you in the fortress of grief and guilt he keeps around his heart. Because he made you feel like you were asking for too much just by wanting him to see you.

You sniff, wiping at your face. The wind bites harder now.

You don’t know how long you sit there before you hear footsteps.

And a soft voice behind you.

“Hey.”

Ellie.

You quickly try to clean your face with your sleeve, but it’s useless. She plops down beside you anyway, setting a thermos between you.

“He’s not good at this shit, you know,” she says after a moment.

You say nothing.

She sighs, resting her elbows on her knees. “He’s got this...broken wiring. Like, when he’s scared or sad or overwhelmed, it comes out as angry. Like it’s the only way he knows how to feel.”

You stare at the dark sky.

“I know,” you whisper. “But it still hurts.”

“I know.”

You glance at her. She looks older tonight. Not just tired, but worn-down in the way only people who’ve been hurt too many times can be.

“I gave him shit,” she adds casually. “In case you were wondering.”

A huff of air escapes you. Almost a laugh. “Thanks.”

Ellie nudges the thermos toward you. “It’s hot cider. Maria’s stash.”

You take it. Warmth seeps into your fingers. Into your throat.

“I care about you too, you know,” she says. “You’re good to him. Good to me. We’d be stupid to lose you.”

You blink hard. “Thanks, Ellie.”

She shrugs, but her face is soft. “You gonna go back?”

You hesitate.

Then nod.

——

When you return, the house is quiet.

No lights except the lamp in the living room, where Joel sits on the couch with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he’s been sitting there for hours.

He looks up when you walk in.

You don’t speak.

Just look at him.

And he...looks wrecked.

“Hey,” he says softly. He stands. “You warm enough?”

That’s the first thing he says.

Are you warm enough.

You nod. "Ellie gave me cider."

“She’s got a hell of a glare when she’s pissed,” he murmurs. “Might’ve yelled at me more than you did.”

You manage a small smile. But it fades.

Joel steps closer, his voice tight.

“I’m sorry.”

You look at him.

“I shouldn’t’ve yelled,” he says. “Shouldn’t’ve made you feel like you don’t matter. You do. You do, more than I can ever say. That’s the damn problem. I get so scared of losin’ you that I shut down. Get mean. Push people away before they can leave on their own.”

Your throat tightens.

“I’m not trying to leave you, Joel.”

“I know,” he whispers. “But sometimes my brain...it don’t catch up to what I know. Just what I’m afraid of.”

You step closer.

He reaches for your hands.

“I’m sorry I made you cry.”

Your eyes sting again. You wrap your arms around his middle, press your face to his chest.

Joel exhales shakily and holds you like he means it.

Not like he’s afraid you’ll leave.

But like he wants you to stay.

“I don’t wanna fight like that again,” you whisper.

“Neither do I.”

“I just want to be let in. That’s all.”

He nods against your hair. “I’ll try. I promise.”

You stay there for a long time, wrapped in his arms in the quiet glow of your shared home.

And when you finally pull back to kiss him — slow, tender, trembling with forgiveness — it feels like the start of something stronger.

Not perfect.

But real.

And worth it.

[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.