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#wedding vows?
veryintricaterituals · 8 months
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Can we talk about the parallel between Guillermo's turning and un-turning.
His turning went so wrong, it wasn't what he wanted at all. We know our crazy, dramatic baby. He wanted a ceremony, he wanted it to be romantic and soft, he wanted vows and sacred words. He wanted to slowly expose his neck, he wanted whispered words, he wanted to feel safe and cherished. He wanted to be asked and be held and be seen and be accepted.
What he got instead was a badly lit horrifying ordeal. He had to take charge. Derek had no idea what he was doing. It happened in a backroom of a store, they kept getting interrupted by Derek's boss asking him to clean out toilets. Derek fucked up his bite. He almost died. "Have you done this before". Derek fainting. Blood everywhere. Anticlimactic, disappointing, not at all the culmination of his life long dream, of decades of service and love.
His un-turning on the other hand.
Oh Nandor knows him. He made up a ritual for him with a suitably dramatic name: "The Ceremony of Vampiric Transmogrification". He dressed him in robes which he put on him so softly and spoke to him so kindly beforehand. He got all the other vampires ready for him. He hung banners and lit candles. He wrote and spoke vows and sacred words to him. He gave him a choice and asked him a question. And when he got his answer he took charge and made sure everything went exactly as it should. He made Guillermo feel seen and loved and accepted, even if it broke his heart.
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wombywoo · 1 month
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downtime 🩵
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in my current commission, being mildly to moderately possessed by the ghost of Oscar Wilde
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*At a Batfamily meeting*
Tim: As the only one in a committed relationship- Selina doesn't count after your whole wedding drama- I really feel-
Jason: what do you mean 'thE OnLY oNe', you aren't the only one
Tim: oh yeah, who else is in a serious committed relationship?
Jason: Me? I've literally been married for years?
Bruce: EXCUSE ME???
Dick: who to?
Jason: Roy
Dick: EXCUSE ME??? EWWW YOU AND ROY, GET THIS IMAGE OUT OF MY HEAD, MY FRIEND AND MY LITTLE BROTHER GROSSS
Jason: Wait, did none of you know? I literally call him my partner all the time
Tim: To be honest we thought you meant partner in crime, not marriage
Jason: I mean, both but still...
*Later, during the ✨vigilante hours✨ of the night*
Bruce: I hear you are married to my son
Roy, panicking cause Bruce is really protective of his kids: Oh, shit, um, yes- yes sir
Bruce: without my blessing
Roy: uh, yeah, we were on a time crunch, married couples can't testify against each other
Bruce: without inviting me to the wedding
Roy: I uh- you were gone that weekend, business trip
Bruce: I haVE A PRIVATE JET, I WOULD HAVE FLOWN IN! IT WAS MY SONS WEDDING, I WOULD HAVE LIKED TO HAVE BEEN THERE
Roy: I'm sorry, sir
Bruce: tell me one more thing
Bruce: was Ollie there?
Roy: No
Bruce: Does Ollie know
Roy: No
Bruce: your recompense is to allow me to be the one to tell him so I can brag to him that I knew first
Roy: uh, sure?
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riickgrimes · 2 months
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THE WALKING DEAD: THE ONES WHO LIVE 1.05 — "Become"
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demigods-posts · 9 months
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imagine percy inviting annabeth over to dinner after the sea of monsters and him introducing her to his mom as his best friend. imagine annabeth trying not to cry tears of joy because no one has ever called her that. imagine as she leaves to head back to camp that night, she does tear up a little when she explains to percy how much being called his best friend meant to her. imagine percy from that point forward calling her his best friend any chance he gets because he knows how happy it makes her.
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Halloween prompts year 2 day 14
Tim was the best thing to ever happen to Danny.
He didn't mean that just because how much of a sappy romantic he was to Tim, but because he literally saved him from his own mind.
Danny was never going to leave Amity Park so long as the portal was open.
The portal would always remain open between his parents practically treating it like thier third child and thier ability to simply make another if anything would have happened to that one. Not to mention the super creep named Vlad.
So Danny would have stayed in Amity forever, cleaning up after his parents and being miserable.
Or ya know. Until they managed to kill him.
But then Tim came into his life and fixed everything. He befriended Danny over nightime rooftop rendezvous and groaning at his dumb (read awesome) puns.
As they got closer Sam and Tucker seemed to get both anxious and angry. Were they jealous? What right did they have after the Gregor incident?! Its true that they'd both been to busy to hand out with Danny for the past few weeks, leaving Danny with only Tim to turn to for company.
Tim pointed out that they may feel threatened knowing someone else knows his secret and Danny couldn't help but agree.
Tim pointed out that Danny was going to be stuck here cleaning up after his parent the rest of his life if he didn't find a way to stop the portal. Danny had nearly broke down at that and admitted he didn't know what else to do, so Tim devised a plan with that big beautiful brain of his.
They created a machine that ran on ectoplasm and magic that could wipe information from both technology and the human brain. They could remove all traces of ghosts ever existing in this town and erase 20 years of knowledge and research from Vlad and the Fentons minds, but it would come at a cost as magic usually does.
They would have to forget Danny existed as well. Tim offered that they could run away together.
Danny decided that was okay. The only person he had left in this town who had cared about him was Jazz and she was better off without him there to get her hurt.
Tim also had a plan to strip Vlad of his powers as well as his knowledge, and Danny was looking forward to not having to deal with him anymore
It was the day after everything went down, Tim was driving the GAV while Danny flew in the Ops Centers Jet form. They had made sure to swipe everything they could from the labs as well as everything the thought they needed to travel to Tims home dimension.
Danny had promised to help Tim uncover the secrets of his past and who he really was and to do that they essentially planned to travel around the Earth being wandering criminals.
Between Tims intellect and Dannys powers they were undefeated and unnoticed. They stole whatever they wanted and did whatever they pleased, making sure no one had to get hurt unless there was no other options.
Of course they stole cash from bank vaults as well as whatever else was in there. They couldn't stop Phantom from entering since anti-meta tech didn't affect him and couldnt track Phantom due to him being whatever he was plus the collar Tim had helped Danny design that covered up his ecto-signature.
They lived like this for over a year, breaking in to abandoned places, having waterfights in large city waterfountains (and running when they heard police sirens), tagging some of the places they'd hit when they wanted to leave a message, long romantic walks at night, lots of laughter, going on dates to restaurants (they never dine & dash. Some places make the wait staff pay which is bull and they might want to return to that establishment at some point), that one time they stole a $900 wedding cake from a homophobic bakery owner, lots of Fake out-Make outs to avoid getting sent to jail, ect.
They were having the time of thier lives up until they stopped in a little 24 hour diner in Bludhaven. They were doing what they usually do, flirting and laughing until the waiter takes thier order, when a guy approached thier table. Tim and Danny exchanged worried looks before the guy held up his hands in mock surrender, "I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise, I'm Dick Grayson." The man held out his hand to Tim, who hesitated before shaking it, "Tim," he answered honestly.
Danny nudged him with his foot under the table.
The man smiled wide, "Like Tim Drake?"
Tim and Danny looked confused, "Like who?" Danny asked and Dicks smile faltered
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ksdesign · 11 months
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Glances 🌸
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purpleguitar · 1 year
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GAP the series (2022-23) dir. by Nuttapong Wongkaveepairoj
I’m just an average person. There’s nothing special about me. But do you know what I’m hiding inside? Every single day, I admire you. This is me. This is what I want you to know. Even when there’s rain of sorrow and pain, or there’re horrible things that I don’t understand. But I’ll be the one who holds your hand all along. Have faith in me and walk together. From this day onwards, you have me by your side every single day. Rest assured that I will never leave you in tears. If you ever get sad, I’ll paint your entire world...with pink.
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foldingfittedsheets · 1 month
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For our wedding my wife said they’d like to have vows be four sentences so there wasn’t a lot of stress writing them. So we both kept it very short and very sweet.
My wife @aorryn47 vows to me:
You’re my favorite person to go on adventures with, whether that be traipsing in the woods with treetops high above us, going on road trips and having to take over driving because you get too distracted by the birds and scenery, or rolling our dice and soaring into storm clouds as dragons. You’re my symphony, my constellation, and 8 years later you’re still my person. You make me feel seen, and when I’m with you I’m home. I love you, and I am so excited to keep writing our future together.
My vows to my wife:
Soul mates aren’t found, they’re made; you just get a good feeling and build a relationship together. I’ve got a good feeling about us. Things won’t always be perfect, but there’s no one else I’d rather have by me when times are hard, or that I’d rather celebrate with when things are wonderful. I want to spend the rest of our lives together building something beautiful.
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prideprejudce · 6 months
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I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy a scene was cut from a show
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chisfics · 3 months
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what the fck is this man on.. 😭😭😭😭
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hitlikehammers · 3 months
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safe under you
rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar husbands, writing vows, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness
for @steddielovemonth day nineteen: Love is the comfort of quiet moments  (@tboygareth)
the rockstar husbands are back on their soft-sleepy-romantic bullshit idk ♥️ maybe I'll get around to writing the ACTUAL VOWS next time
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“You’re so quiet.”
Which meant Eddie should have heard his husband approaching but: as it stands he really, really didn’t, and he jumps hard when Steve whispers from behind his shoulder over the back of the couch.
Steve laughs at the glare Eddie shoots him—a half-hearted one at best but there—as he reaches to start rubbing at the crook of his neck, up and down on either side and the glaring goes away instantly because: Steve Harrington?
Has magical hands.
“Whatcha doing?” he murmurs close to Eddie’s ear and Eddie hums a little as he gathers himself from going immediately-boneless under Steve’s touch, the kneading of his palm against Eddie’s strained muscles because he’s been down here…not too long, he doesn’t think. They’d gone to bed together at normal time, and he’d fallen asleep, too; he’d just been restless when he woke up, and knew it was the kind of thing he wouldn’t get more rest out of unless he did something about it, so he’d kissed Steve’s head and rolled out of bed, regretful for it but hopeful, too, that if he gave in to the nagging at the back of his head, he’d quiet it enough to be able to slip back in next to his beloved, and lean against the mattress just so, so that Steve’s arms could curl around him as they always did: soft and sweet and waiting to hold him.
Eddie just hasn’t…managed to get there, yet.
“Writing,” Eddie sighs, and then whines a little as Steve’s hands leave their place on his shoulders, and he turns to look because where’s Steve going, Steve shouldn’t go anywhere, Steve should stay right—
Here.
And look at that: Steve’s plopping himself down on the sofa next to Eddie, a little too far but then he’s scooting further, and Eddie opens his mouth to protest but then Steve’s dropping down, draping his body over Eddie’s lap and laying against him, looking up at him with still-half-sleepy eyes and just…
He’s just so fucking beautiful, y’know?
“You’re never quiet when you’re writing,” Steve says, head tilted up, eyes closed as he leans back against the armrest where Eddie’s got his notebook, his face so soft. His mouth so soft—
“Campaign, you mumble to yourself,” Steve continues on, his voice syrupy, still only half-committed to waking; “lyrics, you hum if you don’t have a guitar,” and then he reaches down toward Eddie’s knee and taps rhythmic there:
“And you drum your fingers,” and Steve smiles as his fingers dance for a few languid moments before he eases his lashes open and meets Eddie’s gaze, because Eddie’s gaze has been on his since he settled in his lap.
Because: duh.
“Looks like it’s hard, too,” Steve sucks his lower lip between his teeth, face still soft but mouth quirked just a little downward, still a little dream-soaked and Eddie love that part, but: never the downturn of that mouth.
“Hmm?” Eddie rumbles low so Steve’ll maybe feel it a little where he’s pressed; the little hazy giggle Steve lets out as he nuzzles into Eddie’s middle just that tiny bit: he felt.
Eddie likes to think he’s never been so in love, but he doesn’t…he doesn’t believe he’s ever not loved Steve with all of his everything.
He’s just wholly convinced that his everything grows with ever moment beside this man, every heartbeat lived together: it stretches him wider, broader every day for the singular purpose of holding the all of his love ever-bigger.
“Whatever you’re working on,” Steve murmurs, just short of sleep-slurred; “you’ve got this,” and he reaches, bats a little around Eddie’s face before he lands between his eyebrows and smooths the skin there which, okay, fine, had been all wrinkled-up.
“Means you’re concentrating too hard,” Steve comments sagely, patting Eddie’s cheek a little blind as he settles wholly back in Eddie’s lap.
“This happens to be very important,” Eddie counters with a tiny flick to Steve’s ear, which is met with a little squeak that warms his insides so delicate, so thorough and full.
“Doubtful,” Steve manages to scoff, like he’s tipping closer to wakefulness but not there yet; “not important enough to make you,” and Steve’s the one flicking now, light at Eddie’s forearm in emphasis:
“Quiet and frowny.”
He’s so…he’s fucking edible he’s so adorable, that’s what he is—Jesus.
“Not frowny,” Eddie lets a little at Steve’s hair, all tousled from the bed; “invested.”
Steve purses his lips and tries—fails, but tries—to peek at the notebook on level with his temple.
“What’s got you so invested, then?” he finally gives up trying to turn and read where Eddie’s hasn’t even bothered trying to hide, not least because there is nothing there, and just asks. And Eddie could dodge it. Steve would respect it if he did.
But he…he doesn’t. Generally speaking he doesn’t hide anything from Steve. Big or small. Their life is a shared thing from top to bottom and Eddie loves that about them so fucking fierce, so. He just sighs and admit it.
“My vows.”
Because that’s what’s been keeping him up, that’s what drove him out of the soft joy of their bed, that’s what amounted to scribbles and cross-outs alone on the page in front of him and it should be this hard, Eddie’s a decent enough lyricist, not to mention most of his songs all this time are for, or inspired by, or just about, generally, all-encompassingly: Steve. It’s always Steve.
Which makes it that much more unbearable that he can’t seem to fucking write his goddamn vows.
Then, though, just then; the most unexpected thing happens. Or starts.
Steve starts shaking against him and there a half-second he’s worried—does it hurt his sweetheart, that he can’t get the words down, does it make him sad, is he cryi—
No.
No: it only takes half-a-second for the anxiety to fade and the sound to register alongside the trembling: Beautiful. Radiant. Still wholly unexpected.
Steve’s laughing.
“That’s silly,” Steve finally tells him, looking up at him with genuine north in his eyes and yes, he’s still a little sleepy-drunk, but the feeling is wholly present and…
Eddie isn’t sure what to do with it—wants to just wrap himself inside it and savor but: his vows…laughable?
Silly?
“What?”
“You’ve already made your vows,” Steve grins up at him, all brightness; “like, three times,” and, okay.
Okay, that’s not exactly wrong, though he could probably try to argue that it was more three proposals’ worth of vows, and are those actually vows, if it’s just a proposal—
“Proposals fucking count,” Steve waves his wrist definitively and…Eddie isn’t sure if he said any of that out loud?
Then: probably wouldn’t make a difference either way. They know each other.
“The first one was legitimately with the twisty-tie from a loaf of Home Pride,” Eddie points out because: because that…that’s probably not as important—
“Mmhmm,” Steve hums, and lifts his left hand: there’s a simple ring on his left hand, pricey for their budget when they’d gathered their family and committed to always in front of them under a temperate Indiana summer’s sky, bonfire and barbecue lively in the background: but that ring wasn’t smooth; it had a long-worn-bare stick of metal wrapped around it and soldered, one that used to be covered in bright paper to stick out against a plastic bread bag:
“I remember well,” and Steve sounds so soft, so blissfully taken in by the memory of that first time Eddie had proposed and, fuck.
Fuck, the butterflies never go away, do they? That effervescent joy stays fresh and vivacious forever.
Thank fuck; he wants no less of this; for them. The love they have deserves no less.
“Still want to melt down the Ring Pop,” Steve says as he plays with his ring; “make it match,” and that’d been the second time: Steve had bought Eddie a ring at a ren faire, and Eddie’d been beside himself to reciprocate, immediately, because Steve deserved no less, and that was how the bum-end of a long-licked Ring Pop came to live eternally on Steve’s keys.
To be eyed for melting into a full-hoop shape for years, now, but Eddie kinda thinks it’s loved and treasured plenty, just as it already is.
“I love you so fucking much,” Steve tells him, apropos of nothing, and that’s…that’s kind of exactly how they work, yeah. They just love.
So fucking much.
Eddie’s pulse kinda skips with it, bounces like pigtails hopscotching along, all unbridled glee. He draws Steve hand to his lips, kisses his knuckles.
“Aren’t you,” Eddie swallows as he lifts his blank notebook and shakes it around a little: “aren’t you stressing over them?”
Because it doesn’t sound like he is, and that’s…sure, they’ve done this before, if not with a license in hand like they will this time. But Steve’s always been more prone to worry over stuff like this. So while Eddie doesn’t want the man he loves to be anxious, he is…kinda wondering, is all.
“Not writing any,” Steve shrugs and lets the motion turn him a little against Eddie’s lap, to look up more straight-on.
“You know I’m not great with words,” Steve tells him simply; “like, planning them out, I’ll fuck it up in the moment and then I’ll just be more flustered.”
And, yeah: okay. That’s a fair point.
Then there’s a hand slipping up his jaw, and crawling his cheek, and turning him down to look at Steve closer:
“Figured I can just look at you, and I’ll,” Steve’s pupils get bigger as he exhales, as he takes in Eddie’s face and beams at him, strokes his cheekbone with his thumb.
“The most important things are always right there,” Steve breathes warm: “so I’ll just say what’s already waiting.”
And shit. The man says he’s bad at words.
“You’re the light of life, Steve Harrington,” Eddie whispers, contorting himself to lean and Steve sees, arches up to press their lips as Eddie mouths against him: “the song in my soul,” and fuck: he means it so many times over he could never count it, could never pin a number to it. It’s too vast.
“See, look at you,” Steve taps his cheek playfully, but so soaked up with love; “you’ve already got all your words, so,” and then he lets his hand slide off Eddie’ face, and he sits up just to grab at Eddie’s legs, swing them up onto the couch and settles himself between them, tugging Eddie from the calves further down until he’s propping himself up by his palms.
“C’mon,” Steve coaxes, and uses his back to ease Eddie down and: oh. Oh, he wants them laid out on the cushions.
And well: Eddie could, would, will only ever oblige, if the question is do you want to lay down with your husband thrice-almost-four-times-over?
Because again: duh. If they were really in the market for silly ideas.
Steve sighs so happily, so airy and bright even as Eddie reaches to flick the light off, and wraps his arms to rest around Steve, sure and close where he holds him to his chest, folds him in where he already nuzzles deeper and:
It’s how safe my heart feels under the weight of your head.
Well, fuck him.
Maybe he does know his vows already.
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tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson
♥️
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tetheredfeathers · 2 months
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Someone had the audacity to say Katniss had no character development?!??
“My nightmares are usually about losing you,” he says. “I’m okay once I realize you’re here.” Ugh. Peeta makes comments like this in such an offhand way, and it’s like being hit in the gut. He’s only answering my question honestly. He’s not pressing me to reply in kind, to make any declaration of love. But I still feel awful, as if I’ve been using him in some terrible way. Have I? I don’t know. I only know that for the first time, I feel immoral about him being here in my bed. Which is ironic since we’re officially engaged now. “Be worse when we’re home and I’m sleeping alone again,” he says.”
Like my girl goes from being awkward and uncomfortable about a mere comment to flirting back with him.
“Do you think we’d have ended up like this if only one of us had won?” he asks, glancing around at the other victors. “Just another part of the freak show?” “Sure. Especially you,” I say. “Oh. And why especially me?” he says with a smile. “Because you have a weakness for beautiful things and I don’t,” I say with an air of superiority. “They would lure you into their Capitol ways and you’d be lost entirely.” “Having an eye for beauty isn’t the same thing as a weakness," Peeta points out, "Except perhaps when it comes to you.”
I mean like look at her initiating?!!!???
Oh and let's not forget her ultimate line.
"I do", I say. "I need you." He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that's no good, no good at all, because he'll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I'll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss.
I think people really need to redefine what character development means. Because the core of someone's personality doesn't change all that much, Katniss at the end of the day is still stubborn and impulsive. If you changed everything about a character you might as well be writing someone else, staying true to certain traits your character has is realistic writing. Because as humans certain attributes never really change, we only learn to make exceptions or adapt for certain people or situations.
And that is what happens to Katniss, she leans to stop being stubborn and accept Peeta's love but only for him. In other aspects she continues to be stiff, such as never taking order from authorities, trying run from her squad. All impulsive and stubborn acts, true to her original character.
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newlesbianprideflag · 10 months
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joyce pulling will mike and jonathan aside at the byler wedding reception because she wants to get a photo with all three of her sons
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ghouljams · 11 months
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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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