Part 2 of Love stabbing Ghost! Soap to the rescue.
You're at a house, it's right in the middle of a place it probably shouldn't be. Arched door and gabled roof sandwiched between two very modern and tall looking buildings. Simon knocks on it twice and waits. There's a very loud noise from inside and then a lot more loud noise before the door is yanked open. There's a man, just about Simon's height, with a Mohawk and a smile leaning against the doorframe. He looks happy to see your boyfriend.
"Ghost," he glances down at the unattended stab wound in Simon's stomach, "I see you're doing well."
"You're hilarious," Simon says, pushing past him and into the home. You don't move. Something is... stopping you. The other man smiles at you, waiting. Simon turns to look for you over his shoulder and stops. "Soap," Simon warns, but it's something else too, questioning.
Soap cocks his head at you, you've never seen a man that looks like him before. Too human. Like everything human about him has been cranked up to 11. He's not blocking you from entering the house, but he hasn't invited you in either. It would be rude to-
"She can't cross the threshold," Soap grins, his smile so wide you think you could count all his teeth. You vibrate just on the edge of something, you can feel it like a second door preventing you from crossing into his home. He nods his head at you finally, "Alright, come in. Can't have you attracting attention."
The door opens and you slide past him. Simon grabs you quickly, tipping your head this way and that to study you. He looks so concerned that you don't put up a fight. Soap ignores both of you, walking past to rummage around in his kitchen. You look around as Simon looks at you. It's a cute place, comfortable, you'd almost call it cozy.
"How many tethers you got in her?" Soap calls, setting a white medical kit on the coffee table.
"Enough," Simon tells him, finally releasing your face. You wish he'd at least kiss you if he was going to hold onto you for so long. You must pout because he leans down to do just that, soft and sweet as he presses his lips to yours.
"Yer aff yer heid," Soap pats the couch and Simon releases you again. He strips his shirt off and sits where Soap directed with a grunt. Soap pokes at the skin around the wound and you lean over the back of the couch to want. “How’d you do this, lass?”
“Knife.” You tell him plainly. Soap snorts, Simon sighs, shooting you a warning look. “He asked me to, said ‘I want you to stab me’. So I stabbed him.” Soap gives Simon a look of concern.
“Mate your kinks are really gettin’ out of hand.”
“Didn’t think she’d do it.” Simon replies gruffly, you see him wince when Soap presses too hard too close to the edge of the wound, “Was trying to teach her about us.”
“You barely know about us.” Soap hums, grabbing a needle and thread from the med kit. You settle a hand on Simon’s shoulder as Soap starts stitching him up, squeezing to try and take some of his attention from the pain. You’re starting to get phantom pains just watching him, you can’t imagine how Simon’s so stoic about it.
“What’s your name lass?” Soap asks, and you frown.
“How’s that any of your business?” You reply, trying to memorize the way he twists sutures and snips the thread. Next time you stab Simon you should at least know how to stitch him up. Simon gives a small purr, aborted immediately when Soap pulls the last stitch tight.
“Christ you are a fucking mess, you know that?” Soap’s not talking to you, he’s talking to Simon. Looking him over, plucking at invisible threads with a frown. “How’d you-” He pulls on something and you smack his hand without thinking. Soap looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. He stands from the couch and stares the two of you down. “Simon Riley,” He says with purpose.
Simon doesn’t move, just raises a brow. Soap makes a ‘come on’ gesture and groans.
“You are fuckin’ jokin’.” He presses his hands to his face before dropping them and pointing at Simon. You’re starting to like this guy. Or maybe that’s Simon’s pleased hum through the tethers. “You-” He groans again, “I can’t believe you. Best mates for years and you don’t even- Price is going to kill you.”
“What’s happening?” You whisper ask Simon. Soap turns his annoyance on you.
“What’s happening, is you own this bastard and he didn’t even send out a wedding invite.”
“I didn’t think she’d give me her name,” Simon starts. Soap holds up a hand to cut him off.
“You are on probation, I’m not listening to you anymore, don’t talk to me.” You bite down a smile, you definitely like this guy.
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okee good morning...answering this for real now lmao
Required reading for context first!:
https://www.tumblr.com/painted-bees/714138097261150208/lark-wren-lark-needs-to-drag-her-focus-kicking
https://www.tumblr.com/painted-bees/713687883290214400/thinkin-more-about-magritte-and-rafael-because-of
Raf and Magritte, before meeting Cortes, had become pretty iron clad as a pair. As skittish/paranoid as Raf can be, Magritte had proven time and time again that she adores Raf for being Raf, and not what he can be used for nor what she imagines he should be. He’s no longer waiting for that other shoe to drop with her, like he’s usually waiting on with literally anyone else. Magritte’s love, so far as he can tell--and deliberately elects to believe in--is completely unconditional. Raf has only ever had three...four people he trusts to see him as himself and do well by him: his grandmother, his uncle, Magritte, and Cortes.
Magritte, of course, genuinely does adore Raf, thinks he’s very sweet--thinks he’s got a -lot- of baggage and needs some proper patience and a gentle kind of love. But he’s very patient with her, doesn’t yell at her for forgetting things or forgetting to -do- things, and just seems to genuinely love having her around, and doesn’t get annoyed when she’s excited about stuff and it’s just...so refreshing.
Needless to say, Raf and Magritte are ride or die for each other. Raf is extremely protective of Magritte’s infectious enthusiasm, optimism, and her overall penchant to see the best in every situation and every person. Magritte just wants to see Raf have an easier time of things and find joy in the stuff that is joyful again.
Raf and Magritte met Cortes...strangely: https://www.tumblr.com/painted-bees/715850323888160768/the-water-between-the-discovery-islands-off-the
Cortes is their...adopted cryptid gf, they kinda have this inherent understanding that Cortes is more a force of nature than anything else. She comes and goes as she pleases, is wholly aloof to the world around her outside of Raf and Magritte (whom are the clear objects of her affection during her little ‘human-kind’ cosplay adventure). Sometimes Cortes is gone for a month or so at a time, with no indication of where she went or what she’s doing. But Magritte and Raf both inherently kinda...know...she’ll be back and she’s fine.
Raf and Cortes have a very quiet, chill kind of relationship--very low energy in the comforting way. The relationship version of “lowfi beats to study to” lmao.
Magritte and Cortes have a very playful, mischievous relationship and Cortes encourages Magritte’s childish impulses--both good and peevish lmao they are a chaotic duo...but they somehow always get away with what ever trouble they end up finding themselves in together.
Neither Magritte nor Raf (nor anyone, really) find anything unsettlingly strange or off putting about Cortes--she’s not even all that weird, really. Just a unique kind of charisma.
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I am fully consumed by the thought of Anakin & Aayla being childhood friends.
Aayla is a little older and already a Padawan, and isn't overly exited when her Master is meeting up with his friend and they wanna talk about some "important adult stuff only meant for Masters" (it's gossip. They want to gossip in peace and Aayla knows that) and tell her to please watch the friends new Padawan for a moment. Aayla sighs, turns around and is met with huge eyes looking up at him, and it only takes a second of silence before the boy is talking a thousand miles per hour about ships and droids and podracing and the dishwasher because how cools is that.
She listens and pretty quickly figures out that this little boy is absolutely insane, and Aayla knows her Master, and because she knows her Master, she knows how someone has to be to be friends with him.
This kid is getting killed in like a month if she doesn't do something.
Aayla takes Anakin with her for a day at least once a week, just to make sure that he is learning how to do basic stuff and not just how to execute more life-threatening stunts. It goes rather...well, she thinks. Well. At least he is still alive?
("You said what to her?")
("Don't make me repeat it.")
("I'm not going to, because it was absolutely painful to hear the first time. How did you manage to sound like someone who has never even talked to a girl before?")
("Well I really haven't before!")
("Wha- I'm right here!")
("You don't count! Besides, it worked!")
("Yes, and that's the part I'm most worried about.")
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