pluto-9456

[pluto-9456]

THIS IS SO GOOD

I love you like the sun.

Sun God! Hawks x Fem! Reader

Summary: The sun shines alone, until he decides to take a bride.

Tags: Fluff, fast burn, banter as a love language

Gift for @mushi42 :3

i will pass out now goodbye forever

———

Hawks was the not-so-humble patreon god of your village.

Just with every other god, there are a lot of legends surrounding him. How he fought monsters and demons, the strength he commands. His love stories and tragedies, how he protected, deceived and took.

Your favorite story though is his origin story.

He was a human, like you. He used to worship the gods, and before he came to a temple he lived in poor conditions with his parents, who were less than decent people. His human name has been lost in all these years, scrolls systematically destroyed by the sun. Hawks worship payed off, he was able to ascend, he experienced true enlightenment. Thanks to his worship and faith in the fire god he was able to take the vacant spot of the sun god.

It was a lonely spot, in your opinion. The sun brightly shines all alone. You can’t directly look at it, the moon and stars depart when he comes. The clouds can't be considered true companions for they cover the life giving sun rays. Hawks must be lonely, its the first thing that comes to your mind.

For you it was an easy decision to become a shrine maiden. You promised your life to your god, and accepted the duty and sacrifice that came with it. Everyone around you was surprised, you were a bright girl. For sure you could have escaped to the city, actually embrace modernity. You prefer this, though.

You won’t have to get married, you don’t have to pay rent, you can basically do whatever you want since you just claim its your way of worship. And everyone believes it. Granted, you do spend most of your time engulfed in your prayers, but you do it while doing things you love.

Sure, you have to pull your weight. You clean, help out in the kitchen, tend to the garden. But those are things you would have to do anyways, no matter where life would’ve lead you.

Your days are predictable, and that’s good. You’re safe, secure and stable. Sometimes something itches in your fingers, a tug on your soul. There’s more out there, you know. It’s just scary. You’re just a mortal human after all.

The needle pricks your finger, and you hiss more in surprise than in pain. You make sure that no blood actually dripped from your finger, in fear of staining the fabric. This is one of those things you can do all day without anyone bothering you. Right now you were embroidering the fabric for the once in a lifetime event: Hawks will descended from above at the same time the total solar eclipse emerges.

Your art will be a gift for him. An offering which will hopefully appease him, so he continues to bless your village with sun beams which are nurturing, but do not burn. So, you were a bit nervous. This wasn’t the first time you have pricked your finger in the last hour and it won’t be the last. Taking a deep breath, you continued with your delicate work. He will be here in a few days. You should pick up your work pace.

———

The moon shines brightly, and for a moment you feel guilty for letting something other than the sun light your way.

The girls were giggling around you, and you smiled at the serenity of it all. It was comfortable to be surrounded by your sisters in spirit. Right now you were making your way down to the beach, some spontaneous outing to have some fun before the festival starts tomorrow. Just like that you're going to look your god in the eye.

The sand feels soft below your feet. You started running across the beach, knocking your shoulders with your friends. It felt freeing to squeal, laugh and scream as loud as you pleased. You were able to let out all this pent up energy which you got from sitting around, with that needle in hand. The cold water hit you feet, splashing up to your knees. Whatever, you will have to shower anyways. A hand wrapped around your arm and your friend jokingly acted like she would throw you into the water. You scream, wrapping your own hand around her wrist. It did end with you both tumbling into the cold, salty water. At least you still had fun, while coughing up the burning liquid. After that it was an easy decision to return back to the temple. You both were freezing and tomorrow was a big day.

A man stood under the big red arch. Your feet nearly caught on to the steps, but you were able to catch yourself. Blinking, you squinted your eyes. Sadly, you couldn’t make out who he was.

“Heyo! Sorry, I think I got lost. Ya see, I’m here for the festival. My dear maidens, could you point me the way to the inn?” His voice was cheerful, considering how late it was.

Many people come to visit during these big festivals, the whole village participates after all.

“It’s that way, sir.” One girl pointed right, to the road leading to the village.

You nodded in conformation. Even though you didn't know which inn he was staying at, the only ones you did have were down the road.

“Thank you. `S very kind of you.” He doesn’t really move, and you pass by him with the other girls. “I don’t know much about the god of this village. How’d you describe him in one word?”

It’s not that odd to have people ask about your faith, about your god and the stories. The only weird thing here is that it’s nighttime. Whatever. You went to squeeze the water out of your curls.

“Very bright.”

“Powerful! Oh, and sunny!”

“Sunny? Be more creative, I’d say he’s strong.”

“That’s just another word for powerful!” And with that the discussion began.

“Perhaps lonely?” You threw in, after giving it some more thought. Even though you couldn’t see the strangers face, you felt his eyes bore into your very soul.

“That’s just your headcanon!”

“Well, yeah! The sun shines all alone. Must be lonely up there.” You defend your adjective choice.

“You just wanna be Hawks wifeeeeyyy.”

“Okay first off: Totally. Second off: I’d be a very good wife! I can do it all, I’d cross stitch sooo many things and-” And with that you joined into the discussion while making your way back to your rooms. You threw a glance over your shoulder, but the man was gone. He must be very fast, the temple compound was big after all. All you could do was shrug it off.

———

Everything was decked out in gold and suns. No cloud was seen in the sky and the heat was starting to get to you. Nervously, you wiped away sweat from your forehead.

You were in line up with the other gift bringers. The fabric was heavy in your arms, while neatly folded. In front and behind you were the band, together with guards. It’s so nothing and nobody could stop this holy ritual from happening.

The priest lined up the horagai with his lips and the sound rang through the air. It was starting. Right in tune the other instruments started. The rather high pitched tunes of the shinobue and shakuhchi started, and then the different taikos and finally the strumming of the sou.

In a trained rhythm you all marched your way down the temple steps. The people watched from the side of the streets in amazement. You had to remind yourself to breath. It’s just so exciting. This is the height of your shrine maiden career.

After a few more twists and turns you were close to the offering shrine. It was located at the end of the road, where the village bled into the forest.

And for a split second the light vanished and returned. The crowd around you murmured in excitement, and you were about to look into the sky to get a glimpse of him, but someone pressed their hand against the back of your head. Your eyes landed on the ground instead.

Right. You don’t directly look into the sun as its worshipper. It’s blasphemous.

Kicking a pebble in frustration, you continued with the walking. What you could gather from the people around you was that Hawks arrived. They whispered about his beautiful wings, how handsome he looked, his lavish clothes and the gold jewelry draped around him. You wanted to look too!

Hawks made his way to the offering shrine, his big red wings flapping. Casually, he sat himself down at the top of the stairs, with his legs spread wide. The halo on his head glowed iridescently in the sun. Or, that’s what the people say at least. You kept your eyes trained on the ground, you really shouldn’t disobey rules right in front of your god.

The fellow maidens in front of you slowly walked up the stairs, with their head bowed. Once they were close enough, the bend the knee and held up their offering over their head. And with amused humming Hawks took the offerings, before sending them away. You were last in line, and you think after this your arms will be sore. Shifting around nervously, you sighed.

Sweat ran down the back of your neck. All you were hoping for right now was not to trip and fall. The relief you felt once you were close enough was incredibly. Your shaky knees lowered to the ground. You held out your hard work, the embroidered fabric cost you a lot of tears and needle pricks.

Your gift was taken from your hands and you lowered your arms. You had to wait to be dismissed. The whole procedure and protocol was engraved in your mind. No mistakes. Everything will go as planned, and after this you will go back to your slow routine. Why do you feel sad about that?

Hawks curiously unfolded the art work in front of him. Which confused you, considering everything else was simply put away without a second glance. You had a hard time telling if this was good or bad.

“Did you make this?” Came the question.

It took a moment for the question to register in your brain, “Uhm, yes, my lord.” You could slap yourself for hesitating like this.

“Woah, that’s really impressive! Honest. C’mere.” He called out to you.

You blinked confused at the steps. What?

“C’mon now! Don’t be shy.” He chuckled at you.

So this is happening. You got up from your kneeling position, and walked up the stairs with your head lowered. From the bottom of the stairs you could hear restless muring, which you understand. If you watched from the crowd you also would be gasping and whispering. Mostly in jealously.

Hawks got up from his own sitting position and brushed dirt of his robe. You wanted to look up so badly. This was pure temptation. Your gift was carefully folded and put aside.

“Wanna go for a fly?”

“What?”

His huge, glowing red wings unfurled. His hand grasped you under your arms and with that you both took off into the air.

The scream you let out was ear piercing, it even surprised you. Your hand grasped into Hawks robe, holding on for your life.

“Down! DOWN! I want ground under my feeeeeet!” You cried out.

“You’re worshipping the sun god and are afraid of a little height?” He sounded very amused.

“I’m converting! I’m going to move into the earth god temple!” Your eyes were squeezed shut. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, that’s how much this was stressing you.

Hawks laughed at you, “I can’t believe my loyal, little worshipper would leave just like that. How heartbreakin’!”

“Life sucks. Let me down!”

“Alrighty.” And for a split second he did let go off you, while flying through the air. You gasped in shock, wrapping your arms around Hawks neck in fear of actually being dropped.

“So not funny!” You scolded him.

“It totally is.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Ya disobeying your god?” He was obviously teasing you.

“Didn’t you listen? I’m converting! You’re just some guy to me now.” You joked back.

“Just some guy?!?” He gasped in faux offense. “Can some guy do this?” And now he was doing looping in the air.

You squealed some more in fear. “Totally average!” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

“For a mortal you’re very hard to impress.” He mused, a smile stretched across his plush lips.

He flew around a few more circles, and you finally were able to open your eyes. The view was really nice. Hawks sat down at the top of your villages biggest mountain and you were so happy to have solid ground under your feet. You could kiss the dirt, seriously. You let your knees hit the ground, grasping onto grass strands as if they could safe you from being kidnapped again.

Hawks rolled his shoulders, chuckling some more at you. “Ya alright down there?”

“I love…Dirt.” You proclaimed.

“Can’t believe I scared the fate out of you.”

And finally you let yourself look up, taking in Hawks in his full glory. He is very handsome. It didn’t compare to all the paintings and sculptures made in his imagine.

“And now I also took your breath away with just my looks.”

With an embarrassed blush you looked back at the ground, “Maybe don’t kidnap your shrine maidens. Doesn’t look good for your reputation.” You were plucking the grass, keeping your hands busy.

“Pft. You’re right, I’m only the second most popular god. Oh, how will I continue living?”

You smiled at that, brushing your hands over your robes to get the dirt off. “How will we- Sorry, let me rephrase. How will I get back?” Hiking down the mountain wasn’t your plan for today. Especially without any water, or proper clothes.

Hawks just shrugged, “Why stress?” His hand reached out and he pulled you up by your arm, “Come watch with me.” He pointed at the slowly disappearing sun.

You nearly forgot about the sun eclipse. With big eyes you watched this miracle of nature. The moon slowly pushed in front of the sun, and your breath caught in your throat. It was a beautiful display, how everything dimmed for a moment. Hawks wings stopped their glow for the moment the sun was covered.

“Become my bride.” It felt less like a question and more a demand.

You rubbed your eyes, they felt dry now. “Huh? What? Why?”

“You’re right, it’s lonely. Sun god and goddess does have a ring to it, don’t cha agree?” He smirked, his arms crossed behind his head.

Ah, so that was him last night. What a weirdo.

“Depends. Will I also get wings?” You joked, trying to get more time to think this over. Your mind turns to stories of women rejecting gods. It never went well. Do you really have a choice?

“Why not be mine?” His eyes were focused on the covered sun.

“Will I lose myself? After all that time?” You don’t think eternity is for everyone.

“I will be there with you. And hey! I’m still me!” He smiled.

You don’t think anyone is around anymore who remembers Hawks before he was a god. Well, except for the other gods and goddesses. But they are all known to change the past in a way that benefits them.

You sighed, if everything goes wrong you will just get a holy divorce which will last for thousand of years.

“I have always wanted to get married to the Hawks.” You dreamily sigh, “A dream come true for you to propose. Especially to a stranger.”

“Ah, don’t worry. I see and hear more than you think.” He smirks at you, and you’re suddenly very embarrassed.

The moon moved past the sun, and the land before you was once again dipped into beautiful golden rays. Hawks rolled his shoulders, and his wings got their glow back. The red feather shook slightly from the cold wind.

Hawks turned now fully to you and you copied his movements. He held out both of his hands and you put your own into his. His thumbs brushed over your palms. A glow spread from his wings, to his chest and then to his hands. It started to envelope you.

It burned, but it was painless at the same time. Fear grasped your heart for a second, but Hawks presence calmed you down. Your felt weightless, while your soul was weighted down. It was a disgusting feeling, something deep in you is changing. The very essence of your being will never be the same after this.

Hawks let your hands go, and you let your own drop to your sides.

“This is it?” You wonder.

Hawks chuckled at you, “No, sweetheart. We gotta get married first, after that the real ritual starts. Any wedding wishes?”

You waved his question off, “What did you do then?”

“Marked ya up. Can’t have anyone else get any ideas, after all.” He winked at you cheekily. “Cmon, we gotta start the wedding planning. Ya know, Endeavour’s wedding lasted for a century. I think I want to out do him.”

Oh dear.

———

Hawks origin story was your favorite. Even though you think yours is pretty interesting too. Well, at least its inspiring for every shrine maiden out there. The god you worshiped chose you, after all.

Your fingers brushed over your embroidered work. Hawks kept it, after all these centuries. It’s proudly displayed in your home entrance. Familiar arms wrapped around you, and Hawks nuzzled your neck with his nose.

“Wanna stay in?” He mumbled seductively in your ear.

You giggled at him, “Cmon, home bird, I don’t want to spend our marriage anniversary all cooed up inside your nest!

Hawks gasped dramatically, “You don’t like my nest making skills? My own wife is insulting me…I might have to lie down with you nursing my confidence back…”

“No. Get going.” You pinched your husbands cheek, walking to the door.

He was right beside you, like always. His arm and wing wrapped around you, to keep you close and safe. The way it will be, till the end of time.

[pluto-9456]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠

fluff | boyfriend!Mattheo Riddle | 💙🫂🦋❄️| Masterlist | Taglist | requests are open

SUMMARY: Mattheo turns into a drama king after Y/N dodges his hug, opening his arms at every chance until she finally surrenders.

AUTHORS NOTE: Based on a headcanon I saw on Tiktok on how Mattheo would react if you resist his hugs.

The moment Y/N dodged Mattheo’s open arms, he let out a loud, exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest as though she’d just plunged a knife into his heart. “Resisting my hugs?” he cried, stumbling back a step, hand over his heart. “Did you just… stab me? In cold blood?”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “You’re such a drama king, Mattheo.”

“A drama king?” he repeated, looking even more horrified. He placed both hands on his heart now, eyes squeezed shut in mock pain. “More like a heartbroken king. I don’t think I can recover from this—my own girlfriend, refusing to hug me! What’s next? You’ll deny me oxygen?”

Rolling her eyes, she shot him a smirk and continued with her day, carefully dodging every attempt he made to open his arms. By the time they headed to lunch, it had become a game for her. He’d stand with his arms wide open and his expression pathetically hopeful, but she’d just walk by with a grin. “Still nothing?” he pouted, catching her eye over the table. “I’m not even asking for much—just the tiniest ounce of affection, and yet…” He sighed, shaking his head with a look of pure tragedy.

Every so often, he’d stretch his arms open as she passed, the corners of his mouth tugging down in the most pitiful way, but she just flashed him a teasing grin and kept on. By dinner, he was nearly sprawled over the table, arms out in the faintest attempt yet. “One hug, that’s all I need to survive,” he muttered as she breezed by.

But by the end of the night, she could hardly keep her composure. They were sitting on the couch in the common room, where he sat with his arms crossed and a deep pout. When she finally glanced his way, he sighed dramatically, draping a hand across his forehead like he’d been defeated. “Fine. I get it. The love I offer? Unwanted. A hug? Denied for hours. The knife in my heart? Deeper by the minute.”

Y/N chuckled, eyes bright with laughter as she finally gave in, leaning into his side and wrapping her arms around him. “Oh, alright,” she whispered, surrendering.

Mattheo’s face lit up as he quickly pulled her into his lap, his arms immediately tightening around her like he’d never let go. “Took you long enough,” he muttered, clearly smug but obviously relieved, pressing his face into her neck.

She laughed as he cuddled her closer, his hold firm, warm, and so utterly triumphant.

“You know,” he murmured softly, his voice tinged with a sleepy satisfaction, “if you ever resist my hugs again, I’m going to have to get even more dramatic.”

She snuggled deeper into his embrace, unable to hide her smile. “Deal, drama king.”

[pluto-9456]

I SEE THIS VISION

DO YOU SEE THE VISION??? BC I DO

[pluto-9456]

the feather around his neck!!

the coolest

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the coolest

[pluto-9456]

The way hero Touya’s costume is a mix of his dad’s (the innerwear and the gears) along with his signature coat like the one he wears as a villain too (he’s got style, duhh) MAN he would’ve been the coolest hottest hero ever omfggg

[pluto-9456]

[pluto-9456]

[pluto-9456]

What’s wrong with Denki???😭😭😭

Drip Drop 💧

[pluto-9456]

Drip Drop 💧

[pluto-9456]

miles “who’s morales” morales’s biggest weakness is the cover story

[pluto-9456]

[pluto-9456]

kacchan's search history

[pluto-9456]

i loveee watching my friends go through different interests and gain new favorite characters... like yes girl when can i meet your 17th wife whens the wedding and am i invited

[pluto-9456]

Motion Sickness

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason makes you cry after a fight

warnings: angst with comfort

“Jason—”

He waves you off immediately, “No, I’m not your problem, okay?”

Your arms drop, “You’re not a problem at all, that’s not what I’m saying—”

“Then what are you saying?” he challenges. 

You almost bite your tongue but then decide against it, “I’m saying you’re being an asshole right now just because I tried to help.”

He’s angry and you’re someplace in between desperate and tired, but you push on, hoping you’ll be able to solve this without an extended argument. To little avail though, apparently. 

A tense exhale from him, “I don’t need your help, I don’t know how I can make it any clearer.”

“It’s not about needing it—”

“No, it’s about wanting it. I don’t want your fucking help,” he snaps. “I’m grown, I can handle my problems myself.”

You drop your hands to your sides, “Then what am I doing here, Jason?”

“I don’t know!” You can literally see the regret sweep over his face but he lets the moment consume him and the words linger anyways. 

You know he doesn’t always think before he talks, especially when he’s mad. You’ve seen it plenty when he’s fighting with his family. This is the first time it’s shown up with you though, and while you know it’s not coming from a place of genuinity—it still really fucking stung. 

Far from being in your control, tears slip out, more at his tone than his words, and you remove your gaze in favor of the linoleum tiles. He says nothing as you start to cry, which only makes the heat of the moment worsen. 

“Okay,” You take a deep breath, pursing your lips. “You need to go away.”

There’s a long, hard moment of silence, but ultimately he doesn’t fight you on it, only exhales harshly and slams the door on his way out.

The resulting reverberation of the apartment has your shoulders shaking, tears falling onto your shirt.  

You and Jason don’t fight often but when you do it’s usually about insecurities and fears coming forward. He’d been having a bad night to start with and all you wanted to do was make him feel better but he wasn’t willing to talk to you or let you do anything for him. He gets selfishly selfless like that, but you know why.

You know him, in and out. You could’ve anticipated this—you should’ve. You should’ve approached the topic more sensitively. And it’s not his fault, his life has taught him that it’s safer to believe that other people don’t have his best interest. You know that. 

Yeah, you know him in and out, but he knows you in and out, too. He knows you’ve shown him nothing but kindness and generosity since the day you met and you’ve reinforced a thousand times how safe you are for him. But if he still can’t trust you to care about him, then what are you doing here?

You let yourself fall back onto the arm of the couch, huffing in defeat. 

It’s nearing two in the morning when Dick awakens, the bandages across his abdomen digging into his skin uncomfortably. He sits up, bedsheet pooling around his waist. The ache of the bruising pushes him towards his old bedroom door before he’s even fully coherent, narrowly missing shouldering the door frame as he passes through.

He’s still half asleep as he thumps down the staircase, cold hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He’s so out of it in his blind search for painkillers, that he nearly misses the large shadowed figure huddled up on the couch.

Dick stills, blinking warily.

“What’re you doing here?”

His younger brother says nothing, only continues to stew in the shadows, staring at the rug.

As his eyes adjust, Dick takes in his appearance: messy hair, tired eyes, only clad in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

He rubs his eyes, approaching with measured steps, “What happened?”

Jason remains silent for a long minute before grunting out, “Got in a fight.”

Dick nods slowly, shuffling forward a little more to sit on the far end of the couch. 

“What’d you do?”

Jason doesn’t have it in him to comment on how his brother immediately knew he was the issue. It just makes the entire thing hurt even worse. Instead, he tells the truth. 

“Be myself.”

Dick says nothing, 

When the silence persists, Jason elaborates, even though it’s the last thing he wants to admit to.

“I made her cry,” he says, voice below even a whisper. He hates it and he hates himself for leaving you when he knew he’d hurt you.

Dick nods, not saying anything. He’s definitely been there before, though he’s not nearly as volatile as Jason can be, so he can imagine how this likely played out. In any case, Jason has never responded well to being pushed to talk about his feelings so Dick lets him get there in his own time.

He’s half expecting to end up with no results at all, but Jason pipes up after a minute, voice broken.

“I don’t know what she wants me to do,” he rasps.

Dick takes a deep breath, adjusting his posture. “When girls are mad you give them space but when they’re sad you definitely don’t. Is she sad or mad?”

Jason exhales desperately.

“Both, I think.”

Dick nods, understanding.

“Then go home.”

Jason shakes his head, defeated. “She told me to leave. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“What did you say?”

He huffs, not wanting to bring the memory back up. “I basically told her to fuck off.”

“Yeah,” Dick drawls. “I wouldn’t let that simmer.”

Jason’s head snaps over to him. “She’ll break up with me?”

“No, I don’t—” Dick pauses, thinking over his words. “It’ll be fine. Just go home.”

Despite taking the long route on the way to the manor, Jason sped back home on his bike, now unwilling to leave you alone for another second longer than he had to. 

He creeps through the front door of your apartment, proud and only a little hurt that you’d remembered to lock it. 

The apartment’s mostly quiet, nothing but a lamp lighting up the front half. He can hear the shower running from where he stands, the waterfall noise awfully muffled from behind the closed bathroom door.

He bolts the door behind him, pushing forward towards the hallway. He approaches the bathroom door, noticing how there’s no light flooding out from underneath.

“Baby?” Jason calls it out quietly, like he’s scared to commit to alerting you of his presence.

He hears no response, but he knows you heard him. He knows you heard him in the same way that he knows you’re sitting on the shower floor, curled in on yourself under the sensory relief that the pouring water brings. He doesn’t know how, he just does.

So he leans against the door, listening closely, and calls out again, “Can I come in?”

There’s a solid ten seconds of silence before you respond, just barely audible over the cascade of water.

“Not right now.”

Your volume has him wincing, saddened and embarrassed that he’s the one that made you feel like this.

He reluctantly walks back to the bedroom with heavy shoulders, thudding his weight down on the mattress. He sits half folded over himself for the next ten minutes, thinking only of you, sitting alone in the shower with your thoughts.

He perks up considerably when he hears the water shut off, and after several long minutes, you emerge from the bathroom, towel wrapped around your middle.

He stands up when you enter the bedroom, hands stiff and awkward at his sides. You barely look at him, having trouble willing yourself to do more than glance. 

Your eyes fall downward, your lips pursing. You instinctually move to clutching the towel tighter around you, more than anything because you don’t know what to do with your hands. 

It makes his heart break to see you so out of comfort around him—because of him—so he gives you the benefit of privacy, turning around so you can get dressed. It kills him to do it, makes him feel like he’s just some stranger in your life rather than him. But he supposes that he deserves to feel like that right now. 

Whether or not you wanted him to turn around goes unsaid, he can only hear the quiet shuffling of you putting clothes on.

He waits until the movement stops, after he hears the squeak of the bed springs and the faint sound of the sheets being pulled up.

He turns around again with a silent sigh, taking in the sight of you laying in bed, back turned to him.  

He approaches slowly, stopping just before his knees hit the mattress. He notices quickly that the t-shirt you’d chosen was one of your own. He frowns.  

“Sweetheart. Can I touch you?” His voice is soft and low, like he’s trying to coax you back out to him.

It takes a long few moments, but you nod.

He sits down on the bed, still hesitant to go through with it.

“Will you turn over?”

An even longer pause and you’re flipping over to face him. You don’t make eye contact, only look blankly past him. Your blinks are heavy, and even in the dark, he can see that your eyes are still bloodshot. 

He brushes your hair back, his fingers feather-light against you, like he’s scared to touch you too harshly. Like he’s touching porcelain.

He lets you hold the silence for a while, reasoning with himself that you’ll talk when you’re ready.

You let it go on longer than he’d hoped, past the point of him knowing what to do with it. He’d hoped you’d yell at him. He can take that, he knows he can. He can see plainly that you’re thinking deeply and wants more than anything for you to say it, scream it if you have to. 

He knows he deserves it and he frankly would take anything over the silence. But then again, he doesn’t deserve the reprieve, does he? No, but he’s not strong enough to deny himself the chance to hear your voice.

“Say it,” he urges. “Please.”

Your fingers tap against the bed sheets for a moment before you sit up, almost defeated. 

You face him, taking a breath and relenting. “I don’t like that you said that to me.”

He nods, brow deep. “Me neither.”

Your shoulders sag at that, and you feel stuck in the moment. You feel guilty too but you don’t know if you should. He didn’t mean it, you know that, and they weren’t his words, really. But the snap of his voice when he’d said it and the look on his face—it made you feel terrible. It still does.

You look awkwardly to the left, feeling heavily spectated by him and so hyper-conscious of all of your movements. The downturn of your lips gives way to burning in your eyes and before you can do anything about it, tears are spilling out. 

Jason sees it immediately, his head lulling helplessly. 

“Oh, baby. Please don’t cry, please.”

But that only makes it worse, the tears falling faster and heavier at his soft tone.

He forgoes asking permission and pulls you directly into his chest, a firm hand on the back of your head. It’s what you needed though, to be close to him right now.

“I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry, baby—” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a rough kiss as he holds you tighter.

You shake your head, sniffling. “It’s okay, Jay.”

“No, it’s not.”

That sentiment lingers for several minutes, as he holds you cheek to chest and rubs soothing patterns into your hair.

It’s not long before you’re able to fully relax against him, his touch feeling nothing short of therapeutic. Your breathing eventually levels out back to baseline and your thoughts start to find peace amongst themselves.

When you’re ready, you sit back from him, letting him see your face again.                    

He visibly winces as he scans over the tears on your cheeks, how they’re starting to stain.

You’re still upset, a little, but not nearly as much as you’re sure your face is conveying. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

He shakes his head, “If I ever say something like that to you again, hit me. I’m serious.”

You drop your hand onto your lap, tilting your head at him with a serious look. “I’m not going to hit you—”

“Then break up with me. Don’t ever let somebody talk to you like that, especially not me.”

His voice is hard and you can tell the impact of his words have every bit of weight intended.

Your mouth closes and you waver unsure of where to go with that. Your gaze falls down to where your hands lie discarded on your lap and there’s a palpable shift to the air in the room.

“Hey.” He pushes your chin up to make you look at him, “Listen to me. You’re the love of my life. You hear me? I’m supposed to take care of you, make you happy. I don’t…I can’t talk to you like that. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Your eyes flicker back and forth across each others and you can see the genuine sincerity etched plainly across his face.

He processes the comprehension across your own before his jaw tenses for a moment and he adds, “Nobody’s gonna talk to you like that, much less me. Yes?” 

You start to nod slowly and he mirrors you until he’s convinced of your belief in the statement. 

He rubs calm circles into your thighs as you both sit with the conversation, the light sounds of each others breaths the only sound heard. This silence isn’t the same as it was before though, it’s safer, more comfortable. It’s familiar, if not weighted.  

“I love you,” you tell him quietly.

His eyebrows furrow like his heart was just shattered. 

“I love you too, baby. So much.”

🦟 if you don't reblog things i'm actively sending bad vibes your way 🦟 and maybe also a plague

[pluto-9456]

arranged marriage with simon. yes i am talking about this again.

simon doesn’t talk much about the marriage at first, but his actions say it all. he insists on carrying your bags, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, and making sure you eat enough during missions. you don't ask him why, but it's clear he's claiming the role of protector, even if this was supposed to be temporary.

he won’t admit it, but simon begins to get used to the little domestic routines. you cooking dinner, him taking care of repairs around the house. it feels too natural, and although he never says anything, he’s already mentally putting the two of you into that “forever” category.

the first time you mention needing space or wanting to stay in a separate room, simon just gives you a look. "what do you mean, separate? we’re married." he’s not joking either. to him, this isn’t a temporary arrangement anymore. if you try to argue, he’ll just pull you close and mutter in your ear, "ring’s on your finger. means you’re mine." and that’s the end of the conversation.

he starts doing small things for you that a husband would—restocking your favorite snacks, making sure your gun is cleaned before missions, and slipping extra blankets on your side of the bed when it’s cold.

after some time, he’s not shy about touching you anymore—brushing a hand against your arm, holding you a little too close when you’re out in public. the more time passes, the more his touches become possessive, like he’s reminding you who you belong to now.

simon is up early, always. you’ll wake up to the smell of coffee, and he’ll have a cup ready for you without asking. if you take your time getting out of bed, he’ll mutter, "c’mon, mrs. riley. don’t make me drag you out." but there’s always a smile on his face.

when you share a bed, simon always pulls you into him at night. no matter how much space you take up at first, by morning, you’re wrapped up in his arms. if you stir in your sleep or seem restless, he’ll murmur, "got you, lovie," without fully waking up, his grip tightening as if to remind you he’s there, keeping you safe.

simon doesn’t open up easily, but after a particularly intense moment, he’ll lean in close, his forehead resting against yours, and he’ll whisper, "don’t care if it was for a mission or not. you’re the only one for me now." it’s not a grand declaration, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart race.

simon will leave subtle marks of possession on you—his dog tags hanging around your neck, his scent clinging to your clothes, and his bite marks on your skin after an especially heated night. "need everyone to know who you belong to," he’ll growl against your skin, his lips trailing kisses down your neck.

he also has an odd obsession with your wedding ring. he’ll turn it on your finger, kissing it softly whenever you’re close. if you ever take it off for some reason, his brow furrows, and he’ll slip it back on. "keep it on, yeah?" his voice is low, almost pleading. "means something to me."

after a particularly dangerous mission where you were almost hurt, simon corners you in the hallway, eyes filled with emotion. "you’re not leaving me," he growls, pinning you against the wall. "ever. understand?" it’s a statement, a vow, and in that moment, you know you’re his forever, and he’s yours.

when you’re lying in bed together, his arms wrapped around you, simon will sometimes whisper, "mine," into your hair. it’s soft, almost inaudible, but you feel it in your bones. he needs the reminder just as much as you do—that you’re his, and he’s never letting you go.

[pluto-9456]