#uh oh i’m in trouble

[kawhh]

John Gibson? 🤔

[munchymunchkin]

[laut16]

oh no, it's in EASTERN Timeww

[samwise97]

When I told the universe no more dating, the universe said sike and sent me someone way too good.

[a-queer-fish]

the aura bullshit has begun again i would like to politely decline

[cyncerity]

Cyn I just want you to know how much brainrot you give me-

I’m literally screaming in the discord server about the teasers you’ve dropped with Slime, and my brain is just going through so many scenarios that could occur to get us from the text teaser to the art-

Like did Schlatt have to quickly swallow him to protect him? Did Ted do this? And Slime looks so nervous, has he even been eaten before? Does he know it’s safe?

You’ve given me so much brainrot and I will now rotate this in my head like leftover pizza in the microwave-

THANK YOU SM!!!! <3

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY THAT MAKES ME AS SOMEONE WHO ALSO FREQUENTLY ROTATES THE SHRUNKEN MANHUNT AU IN MY HEAD LIKE THAT ONE GIF OF THE DANCING COW

anyway i’ll give you a hint: you did correctly guess the plot with one of those first two questions but i can’t say which just yet, and while I did have a way that Charlie got nommed for the first time, i’m retconning it for the sake of this story if that tells you anything >:)

[tiredsadpeach]

Did not need that lmao

[sturnioloshacker]

Uh, baby? What’s Princess Rafe talking about? Calling you his girl? 🤨🤨

JJ

ummmm….

[possessedartist]

hihi this is probably a lil stupid so feel free to ignore but i saw in one of your posts about playing persona 1 and i was just wondering how you managed to play it? cause I've been wanting to play p1 (n p2) for the longest time now so i was wondering the way you did it? if its like a spefific emulator or something or if you could point me in the right direction anyways this is probably a bit silly but thank you anyways n i hope you have a good day!!

OMGG you’re so good don’t worry!! I really love getting asked about stuff esp emulating wise cause i like helping out so thank you so much, this made my day!!! You actually asked this at a pretty good time, I just got done making a guide on basically just that because I was hooking up some irl friends who aren’t too emulation savvy, which you can look click right here to look at!! It includes the emulator itself (I use ppsspp) all three games, and a install guide I typed up.

I can mention outside of that though, most of the time for looking at emulators, I personally use emulatorzone to download them from, it’s a pretty direct website that gives you a comprehensive directory for what you’re looking for, such as psp emulators. For ROMS/ISOS themselves, it can kinda depend on what you’re looking for but with psp isos in particular, I use this site! It doesn’t give me any issues and you can look around on it if you’re interested in getting any other psp games!! ^^

Lmk if you have any more questions!! My dms are always open even if u just wanna like live react to whatever’s happening in game lol

[harapeveco]

how are they being annoying about it??

Can’t say

[babygorewhore]

“I’ll tell ed what u did”

And what did you do? -E.M

What are you going to do if I tell you? Maybe it’s privileged information…

[waitimcomingtoo]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: Peeta helps Johanna unzip her dress in the elevator and it makes you jealous

Masterlist

“Can I have a hand?” Johanna asked as she turned her back to Peeta. Peeta looked at you and Haymitch for a split second before shrugging and taking ahold of her zipper.

“Oh. Sure.” He said as he pulled the zipper down her back. Your head slowly turned to Peter and you stared at him with a slack jaw. Peeta looked at you and his smile immediately dropped. He adverted his eyes as long as he could until they found their way back to the scene in front of him. Johanna was looking between you and Peeta with a smirk when she turned around to pull her sleeves off her arms. Peeta and Haymitch couldn’t help but watch her as she undressed and dropped her clothes onto the elevator floor. It appeared that you were the only one able to keep your eyes on the ceiling as Johanna stripped out of her last piece of clothing.

“Thanks. Let’s do it again sometime.” She said as the elevator doors opened. She walked into the hallway fully naked and left a silence when she left. Peeta and Haymitch chuckled and exchanged looks as the elevator went up another door. Peeta then made eye contact with you and gulped when he saw the daggers in your eyes. You could not believe he had just looked at her the way he did. Seeing him unzip her dress and watch her made your blood boil in your skin in a way it never had before. You were so consumed with your jealousy that you didn’t hear Peeta try to change the subject and only knew she spoke when you saw his lips move.

“What?” You asked him.

“I asked what outfit you liked the best.” Peeta repeated. “I thought District 5’s was kinda cool. But it didn’t look very comfortable.”

“I don’t know. And I don’t care. I wasn’t looking at the other tributes.” You said and eyed him up and down as the elevator doors opened on your floor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peeta’s face scrunched in confusion as he followed you out of the elevator.

“Nothing. I’m going to sleep.” You announced and headed straight for your room.

“You’re sleeping already? Aren’t you gonna eat?” Peeta asked with concern.

“I’m not hungry.” You said without looking back.

“I can meet you on the roof in a little bit if you want to hang out.” He offered.

“Not tonight.” You replied and disappeared into your bedroom. Peeta frowned and felt disappointment sink in over not getting the night with you that he thought he’d be getting.

“Uh oh.” Haymitch chuckled as he poured himself a drink.

“What was that?” Peeta asked and gestured to where you had just been.

“That, my friend, was you getting in trouble with your lady.”

“What?” Peeta blushed at what Haymitch called you. “She’s not even my lady.”

“But she wants to be.” Haymitch said pointedly and took a long sip.

“Y/n? There’s no way. She knows I like her and she made it very clear that she just wants to be friends.” Peeta insisted.

“Peeta, I don’t really know how they do things in 12 nowadays, so let me spell things out for you. That girl wants you but she’s way too stubborn to admit it to you or even herself. She doesn’t want to tell you how she feels because she wants you to just know. And she definitely didn’t want to see you undressing another girl right in front of her.”

“I wasn’t undressing her. I just helped her unzip her…” Peeta trailed off when he saw Haymitch raise his eyebrows in amusement. He realized how bad the moment in the elevator must’ve looked to you and began to panic.

“Oh no.” Peeta gulped. “Is she really mad at me?”

“Definitely.”

“What do I do?” He whined.

“Talk to her. And prepare to get hit a couple times.” Haymitch chuckled and patted Peeta’s shoulder as he passed him. Peeta thought about it for a moment and then went up to your room to do what Haymitch said and talk to you. He knocked on your door and you opened it pretty quickly as if you were expecting him. You had ditched your parade outfit and were now in some silky yellow pajamas.

“Hey.” Peeta smiled at you.

“What do you want?” You replied, making his smile drop.

“Just to talk. And I wanted to see you.”

“I’m really tired. I’m not in the mood to talk tonight.”

“Oh, okay. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want. I’m tired too. We can just sleep.” Peeta offered. You usually slept in the same bed to keep the nightmares away but there was no way you were letting him in your bed after what happened in the elevator.

“I’m gonna sleep alone tonight.” You told him with a tight smile.

“Oh. Okay.” Peeta said again and felt his disappointment settle in a pit in his stomach. Your cold expression suddenly melted to one of insecurity and you looked down the hallway as if you were expecting someone else to be there.

“Are you?” You asked quietly.

“Huh? Who else would I be sleeping with?” Peeta genuinely wondered, not realizing you were asking about Johanna.

“I don’t know.” You said quickly. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. See you-“ Peeta was cut off by you closing the door in his face. He sighed and put his hand on your door before walking away.

“Tomorrow.” He mumbled.

When tomorrow came, he woke up in his lonely bed and went straight to your room. Your door was open and you weren’t inside so he assumed you already went downstairs. You weren’t there when he got to the table and let out another sigh. You were clearly avoiding him and he was not handling it very well. Peeta decided not to let it get to him and busied himself by making you a plate of all your favorite breakfast food. Haymitch watched Peeta scrambling to get back in your good graces and laughed to himself. You came down just as Peeta was finishing your plate and eyed him curiously.

“Good morning.” He greeted with you a smile.

“Morning.” You replied without looking at him.

“I made you a plate.” He said and put the plate in front of you. You stared at the plate for a minute and almost gave it and apologized for your cold behavior until you remembered the way he looked at Johanna last night. That was enough to make you lose your appetite so you pushed the plate away.

“I’m not really hungry.”

“You’re not? But you didn’t eat last night.” Peeta said worriedly as he sat beside you.

“Yes she did. For a hunter, you’re not very quiet. I could hear you rummaging for food all the way from my room.” Haymitch said to you.

“You came down to eat?” Peeta asked. “You should’ve gotten me. I would’ve kept you company.”

“Maybe I didn’t want your company.” You shrugged, making Peeta frown.

“Oh. Ice cold, sweetheart.” Haymitch chuckled. “You better watch your back in the games, Peeta. This one has death in her eyes.”

“You’re still mad at me?” Peeta whispered to you.

“Who said I’m mad at you?” You said without looking at him.

“I know you are. We usually talk on the rooftop and then sleep in the same bed. And then come down to eat breakfast together. You didn’t let me do any of those things.”

“Maybe I just need some space. We spend every hour together every single day. Excuse me for wanting some privacy for a little while.”

“We should be spending every hour together before we don’t get the chance. How long are you gonna be mad at me?”

“I already told you, I’m not mad.” You whispered harshly.

“Fine. You’re not mad. But when can we be friends again?” Peeta asked and tugged on your sleeve.

“Peeta.” You said warningly and pushed his hand away.

“Come on. I miss you.” He whined and tugged on your sleeve.

“I’m right here.” You scoffed but started to feel guilty for your behavior.

“No you’re not.” He pouted. “You’re far away.”

“Stop whining so much. You sound like my cat. And I hate that cat.”

“So you hate me now? All because I un-“

“Don’t.” You cut him off and got up from the table. You passed Effie in the hallway as you went back to your room.

“What’s going on? Y/n just told me she wants to train alone today.” Effie said as he joined the boys at the table.

“She’s mad at loverboy.” Haymitch said and pointed to Peeta.

“What did you do?” Effie asked him.

“Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”

“He unzipped Johanna Masons dress in the elevator.” Haymitch tattled.

“What? Are you insane?” Effie gasped. “You can’t do something like that in front of your lady.”

“Why does everyone keep calling her my lady?” Peeta asked. “She doesn’t even like me.”

“Of course she likes you. That’s why she’s so upset. She’s jealous.” Effie laughed like it was obvious.

“Jealous? Of me and Johanna? I don’t think I even said a word to her. I just pulled the zipper.”

“It’s not about Johanna, silly. It’s about you giving attention to another girl. That’s why she’s jealous. She wants to be the one you’re unzipping.” Effie explained, making Peeta choke on the water he had just sipped. He wiped his mouth once he stopped choking and sighed.

“I need to fix this.”

“Yeah. You do. Before she makes you her first target.” Haymitch told him.

“She wouldn’t do that. Oh my God. Wait. Would she?” Peeta worried.

“She might.” Effie shrugged and Haymitch nodded in agreement.

“Well what do I do? She won’t talk to me.”

“So don’t give her a choice. Go in there and show her that she’s your only lady.” Haymitch instructed.

“What if she tells me to go away?” Peeta asked.

“Stay.” Effie answered. Peeta nodded his head and got out of his seat to go talk to you. He knocked on your door but this time, you didn’t answer. Peeta took a deep breath before opening the door and going in. You were on your bed with your knees drawn up to your chest. You gasped when he came in and threw a pillow at his head.

“What are you doing in here? Get out.”

“No. We’re talking.” Peeta said and sat on the edge of your bed.

“Well I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Too bad. Because I want to talk to you. Please? I can’t take it that you’re mad at me. I don’t want to go in the arena without hearing your voice. Can’t we just talk?” Peeta begged.

“Fine. What do you want to say?” You asked him.

“That you’re a big baby.” Peeta replied.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened when you didn’t get the apology you were expecting.

“You are.” He insisted. “You don’t get to be mad at me for unzipping Johanna’s dress when I didn’t even know what was happening.”

“What?” You laughed nervously. “I’m not mad at you for unzipping her dress. Why would I care about that?”

“I don’t know why you care. But I know that you’re jealous.”

“Jealous? Oh, please.” You scoffed and got off the bed to get away from Peeta.

“It’s okay to admit it.” Peeta said calmly. “I admit that I was jealous when I saw you talking to Finnick. And his giant muscles that are always out.”

“They are, aren’t they?” You smiled coyly.

“Hey.” Peeta said defensively.

“You’re the one who’s jealous. Not me.” You said and pointed to him.

“Then how come you’ve been mad at me ever since I unzipped her dress?” Peeta asked and walked over to you.

“It’s not about the dress!” You exclaimed.

“Then what is this about?” He asked. You scoffed again and folded your arms to close yourself off. Peeta wasn’t about to give up that easy and put his hands on your shoulders.

“Please tell me. I miss my friend.” He said quietly. You sighed and looked into his big sad eyes.

“I don’t care that you unzipped her dress.” You admitted. “You were just doing what she asked. I care that you were looking at her when she took her clothes off.”

“In my defense, I’ve never seen boobs before.” Peeta stated, making you laugh for second.

“Me either.”

“Not…not your own?” Peeta whispered in disbelief.

“Yes my own. Never another girls.” You explained and smacked his arm.

“Oh. I was gonna say. I know we don’t have a lot of mirrors in 12 but I think they’d be kinda hard to avoid- “

“I don’t want you looking at Johanna, okay?” You cut him off. “Or any other girls. I hated it. It made my blood feel hot and my stomach dropped to the floor. And then I couldn’t sleep because I kept replaying it in my head. What is that?”

“Thats jealousy.” Peeta explained with a pleased smile now that he knew Effie was right.

“Oh. Well I don’t want to feel it ever again. I didn’t like it.”

“Well I didn’t like when you didn’t talk to me.” Peeta said quietly.

“I’m sorry. I feel like my life is completely out of my hands lately. But you and I are the one thing I have a say in. So when it felt like our relationship was threatened, I tried to gain control by shutting you out.”

“It’s okay. I probably would’ve curled into a ball and cried right in front of you if I saw you unzip some guys pants.” He admitted, making you laugh again. You chuckled and pulled him into a hug to apologize for being so cold towards him. When you pulled out of the hug, you kept your arms around his neck and looked into his eyes.

“So seeing me with Finnick really made you jealous?” You asked with a smirk.

“Yeah. I was questioning our alliance the second I heard him make you laugh.” Peeta replied, making you laugh.

“Yeah. I know the feeling.”

“Why do you think we got so jealous seeing each other around other people?” Peeta wondered. You looked down at the floor and sighed.

“I think maybe we underestimated our feelings for each other.” You admitted.

“We?” Peeta raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. I underestimated my feelings. When I saw you looking at another girl, I realized the only one I want you looking at is me.”

“As if theres anything in this world that could make me take my eyes off you.” Peeta said softly.

“Except for Johanna’s boobs.” You mumbled under your breath.

“You’re the only one I’m looking at right now.” He assured you. You smiled for a second, then frowned.

“But you’re not thinking about them, right?” You asked him.

“I’m about to if you don’t stop bringing them up.” He said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe I can take your mind off it?” You asked with a shrug.

“How?” Peeta barely got the word out before you were kissing him. He wrapped his arms around you to deepen the kiss as your hands found their way to his hair. There were no cameras and no witnesses because it was just yours.

“So we’re friends again?” Peeta asked once you pulled away.

“I don’t know. I don’t get jealous like over just my friends.” You said coyly. Peeta picked up on what you were saying and felt his face heat up. He pressed his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes.

“Good.” He said. “Because I never wanted to be just friends with you.”

[bagofshinyrocks]

The Whole Bakery

Prompt: How will the boys respond to an S/O who slaps their ass out of nowhere? [Requested by @airghostlyfox]

Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.8k

Warnings: expletives; lightly suggestive content

There he was. Making his morning cup of coffee. Comfortable sleep clothes and sluggish movement. Your handsome partner. 

He had finally freed himself from the blanket web and your comfortable arms, with the intent to go through most of his “honey-do” list that weekend.

And he was so unaware.

That your arm was winding up for a powerful smack to his ass.

John Price

The sound was not as impressive due to his sweatpants, but the way he jerked and slowly put down the things in his hands was reward enough. He did not appreciate it. And he did not turn around.

“Luv,” he said in an even tone. “What the hell was that?”

You rubbed the offended cheek with the same hand, deciding against pinching, as he would win any fight you started. 

“My darling John. Your ass is just so wonderful, I can’t help myself.” 

Both hands gently squeezed his ass. And you pressed an apologetic kiss between his bare shoulder blades.

“You’ve got the whole bakery right here, bubba.” Gentle pats. Still no movement of his neck. “All these buns.”

Finally, he turned around.

He was trying very hard not to smile. Trying not to encourage you. But goddamn, did you look pleased with yourself. Strong arms wrapped around your middle, pressing you to his chest.

“You are-” Kiss. “Such a flirt.” Kiss. “And absolutely shameless.”

You kissed him back and lazily threw your arms over his shoulders.

Behind you, his arm raised itself and smacked your ass as hard as he possibly could. You folded into him with a yelp.

“GOD FUCKIN–!”

Simon Riley

The moment your hand left his cheek, he had turned on you and grabbed you under the armpits.

“Uh oh” was all you had the chance to say before he dragged you off to the nearest wall. He was smiling, but it was the smile that meant you were still in trouble. You chuckled nervously as he settled you against the wall, caging you in and leaning in close.

“You are a cheeky one,” he purred.

“Yessir.”

“Any particular reason we’re playful this morning?”

You wriggled your arms out of his grip, and settled your hands over his ass again. He let you, one of his fingers tapping your nose.

“Well, if you must know, Simon,” you said, adopting a matter-of-fact tone. “It is because your ass is just so delicious looking.”

He snorted at your blunt words and hid his eyes with his hand.

“Bloody hell.”

“I mean, just look at it, lover.” You firmly gripped his ass, squeezing ever so slightly. “All this cake.”

He sighed, but he was still laughing. You’re adorable. He loves you.

Kyle Garrick

You didn’t smack too, too hard. A peace offering for walking around in his boxers and nothing else. Your favorite outfit on him.

But he still jumped and gave you a dirty look.

“It is 8 in the morning, you shit.”

You turned him back around and massaged his ass, humming a cheerful tune. “I’m just gonna knead this yummy dough, don’t mind me.”

“You a cat? Making biscuits?”

You giggled and kissed the back of his neck.

“Oh, have you got some biscuits on you, loverboy.”

He couldn’t help but laugh into his cup, turning himself around and pulling you into his embrace. Soft, coffee-flavored kisses. Then his arms snaking lower, and his own hands settling on your ass.

“I think that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.”

“Sweeter than ‘I love you’?”

He squeezed your ass and pulled you impossibly closer to him.

“Mm,” he sighed into your mouth. “Tied for first.”

You pulled back and narrowed your eyes.

“What? Oh, right. I love you, too, baby.”

Johnny MacTavish

Of all the boys, he has no right to complain. A chronic ass-slapper. Repeat offender groper. Can’t sleep without one hand one you, be it your arm, your stomach, or your leg.

He was singing some song to himself, dancing a little. Background noise that kept him from hearing you until it was too late.

“Steaming bloody-”

You hit him too hard. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. You ducked out of his grasp and started pleading for forgiveness.

“Baby, I’m sorry, that was harder than I meant. I’m sorry. I’m sor- shit.”

A mad scramble around the kitchen island. Never had you run away from your bare-chested Scotsman so quickly.

“Get your arse back here!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Fuck you mean-” He vaulted over the island and you screamed. Like a bird of prey, he grabbed you and dragged you to the couch, falling on top of you with all his weight.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you wheezed.

He smothered your face and neck in kisses, and accepted your apology. He would get you back later. With less force but greater number of ass slaps. You were sure of it.

Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)

Posted: 2023 Dec 12

[saetoru]

Do you think there could be a chance where reader and bully! gojo meet again years later and try again? Maybe 🥹

part one here — contents. fem! reader, exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers, slight nsfw so minors do not interact, slight angst but it’s a hopeful (pretty much happy) ending, idk what else lmk what i missed

imagine you guys are neighbors—you accidentally meet when you’re both walking up to your apartment doors one night after work. he pauses, and you can feel eyes staring into you from the side so you look over and yeah. wow. there’s your worst heartbreak of your youth standing right there in all his glory, staring at you like you’re a figment of his imagination come true. like he never expected to see you again (you suppose he probably didn’t).

“hey,” he says softly. satoru has never been one to greet someone first, never been the one to reach out and bridge the gap himself. he always waits to be approached. that much has surprisingly changed since the last time you saw him.

“oh…” you trail off, “hi. it’s you.”

you don’t seem half as happy to see him as he does you—but that much is to be expected, of course. satoru didn’t have the luxury of moving on, you can tell because you still can read him just as easy after all these years. like he hasn’t changed the small quirks about him, like he’s still tried desperately to hold onto his past because that’s where you were. he still looks desperately in love like the night you left him.

it’s pathetic, you wanna say. to still be in love for so long. when it’s so clearly over and there’s no coming back. a small part of you is filled with this sick, evil satisfaction that he’s still thinking about you when you don’t spare him a single thought.

but you suppose you’re not at over him as you thought when there’s this much excitement bubbling into you at his suffering. maybe, if you were actually completely over him, you’d be indifferent to him. you wouldn’t forget, but you’d forgive. you’d hope he learned his lesson and spared another innocent, poor girl from what you suffered for simply loving him. for simply wanting him to feel cherished and special and worth someone’s time.

you hope he’s better now—not for yourself, but for someone else. he doesn’t deserve a second of your time.

“you live here?” he asks, mildly shocked.

you’re almost offended. does he mean he thinks you can’t afford to live in the same apartment building as him? or is he just that shocked to see you? nothing about satoru seems genuine—you can’t help but assume the worst in him.

“yes,” you say curtly, “i moved here for work.” (why did you add that? why are you giving an opening to make conversation?)

“oh, really? me too,” he nods. (why is he making conversation? why couldn’t he have just ignored that opening and spared you the trouble?)

“oh,” is all you say. it’s silent for a bit, and then, “well, i better—”

almost like he knows what you’re about to say, he cuts you off with a quick, “i teach now.” you blink, staring at him in confusion. he rubs his neck as he adds, “i uh…i teach at that high school down the block. so uh…that’s why i moved here.”

“that’s…that’s nice,” you nod awkwardly. why is he telling you all this?

“yeah, my students are really cool,” he adds with a grin—it’s…a bit cute, actually. because he means it. his smile is too fond for it to not be true.

this isn’t the satoru you know—at least, not the one you think is the real satoru. you’re not so sure which side of him is actually him.

“i’m glad you enjoy what you do,” you offer. there’s not much else to say. “i’ll be heading in now.”

“right,” he coughs, “s-see you around.”

and then you really do see him around.

sometimes, it’s when you both leave in the mornings—he lets you enter the elevator first and presses the button for you when he gets in. he always lets you exit first too, like he cares to be chivalrous even if you’re not together anymore. sometimes it’s when you’re coming home—he’s holding a bag of take out as he walks up to his own door. you suppose he’s never been one to cook, and that probably hasn’t changed. sometimes, you’ll see him at the grocery store too—his cart is usually just filled with snacks and sweets. it’s not a very adult like shopping cart, so something’s evidently never change.

and every time he sees you, he always tries to strike up a conversation. no matter how short of a window your time is. even if it’s the forty five second elevator ride from floor one to floor three, he’s determined to say something.

today my students got me a gift—it’s a pair of sunglasses, because he still apparently loves those.

i got to take my students on a field trip today. i’ve been planning it for weeks—they have to write a paper on it, though. they’re not too happy about that even if they enjoyed themselves.

today was my student yuji’s birthday. i let the others out early to celebrate with him—they’re apparently all a good bunch of kids. friendly and tight knit in a way satoru’s never experienced. he thinks kids should hold onto that. good friends are hard to come by, after all.

and you’re always guarded. always so cautious and careful when you talk to him. sometimes you try to be polite, other times it’s abundantly apparent you don’t want to converse. he doesn’t pay it any mind, though. just rambles away and away and away and talks enough for the both of you because he’s just happy you’ll listen. even if begrudgingly.

and then one night, it happens—it’s late and you had to stay extra in the office. you’re grumpy and tired and the only good thing about this is that it’s late enough that you probably won’t run into satoru today.

except he’s waiting right there, head against your door as he fidgets with the door knob and grumbles incoherently under his breath.

“stupid damn door,” he slurs, “jus’ fuckin’ open.”

“ahem,” you clear your throat—he stiffens. “any particular reason you’re trying to break in?”

he turns to face you—stumbles a little as his glossed eyes look at you in confusion. he’s drunk—you can smell the liquor on him.

“whad’ya mean? ‘s my door,” he holds an arm out to gesture at your door.

“no,” you sigh, pointing to the door next to yours, “that one is.”

“oh!” he perks up, “‘s why it wasn’t working?”

“most likely,” you nod awkwardly, “that’s usually how that works.”

you watch as he unceremoniously stumbles over his steps to his door—how he tries but fails to get his keys through the key hole before you sigh and take pity on him. you don’t have it in you to leave a drunk person out in the cold, no matter how much (bad) history you might have.

“here,” you sigh, grabbing his keys from his hand and opening the door for him. you try to ignore that brief moment of warmth where your hands brushed against each other.

“do y’know what today is?” he mumbles, breath fanning over your shoulder as you open his door.

“i….tuesday?” you ask, in confusion. he looks crestfallen when you stare his face.

“oh, n-never—” he stumbles a bit. you catch him before you realize. “never mind.”

somehow, you barely manage to help him to his couch before he’s passing out, too drunk to really register anything else. satoru never drinks much—it was the funniest part about him. you used to tease him for it all the time, for being a frat boy who can hardly handle some alcohol.

i like being in control, he’d say petulantly, i don’t need to be drunk to have a good time. i am the good time.

you take a quick glance around his place before you can catch yourself. it’s not very different from your place—the living room is the same size and the structure is more or less the same. his tv is a bit more expensive, and his furniture is more simple. that’s about it.

you glance down at him one last time before walking out and shutting the door behind you. you hesitate for a moment before turning on the screen of your phone to check the date—it takes you a moment, but then it hits you.

it’s the day you broke up. all those years ago. it’s certainly been a good few—you almost forgot the date, but apparently satoru remembers. he remembers enough to go get shit-faced drunk as if the memory is too much to bear.

does he do this every year? drink away his sorrows every anniversary of the day you left him? does he really still care that much? why hasn’t he moved on?

and then you stop thinking about it. it’s not your problem.

but then you just…can’t help but be a bit more gentle around him. it happens without your control. maybe it’s muscle memory. maybe you’re finally letting your muscles relax and do that involuntary thing of their own that they do.

evidently that’s to be more soft with the boy who broke your heart. except he’s a man now, you suppose. he should’ve been a man when you dated him—but you’re glad he grew up eventually. even if you couldn’t be there with him for it.

but you’re a bit more friendly with him now—you suppose you can coexist with your talkative neighbor that also happens to be your awful ex boyfriend. you answer him a bit more when he talks to you, ask him about his students when he brings them up—he brightens so much when you do. it’s….painfully endearing.

yuji is sweet, a little too kind for his own good. nobara is a little tough to soften up, but once you do, she loves tenfold. megumi is a grump, but he’s a real softie. yuta is a bit socially awkward, but he’s got a good heart. maki is all business and very studious, but she’s a determined young girl. panda is not a panda—his name is odd but he’s funny. toge is quiet, but he looks out for people.

they’re good kids. he cares a great deal about them.

and then you start to tell him about your job. how your boss is another baldy that’s annoying—just like the professor you both shared. he chuckles at that. your coworkers are a good gossip, but you’d never go hang out with them outside of work. well, maybe except for one—utahime is a nice person, even if a bit of a priss sometimes.

it’s nice, talking to him. he’s funny, makes banter easily like it’s second nature. sometimes….sometimes it feels like old times. you’re not so sure how you feel about that, but you think it’s not bad. you can be grown ups, the two of you. you can be adults and ignore your immature past. the hurt is still there, but it’s manageable now. doesn’t linger and doesn’t weigh on you anymore.

sometimes satoru still stares at you in that way he did all those years ago, sometimes he still stutters over his words and loses his train of thought when he meets your eyes. he still loves you—you knew that from the start.

you stopped loving him a long time ago. that’s what you thought, anyway—but sometimes seeing satoru is….too familiar. it makes you feel things you thought you buried away for good. maybe it’s just deja vu, maybe it’s just the history speaking for itself.

or maybe…maybe you’re starting to tread a more dangerous path. the one that led you to your first, and worst heartbreak. you can’t step foot on that path again, no matter what.

that’s what you tell yourself, anyway—but satoru and you are talking one night. in front of your doors, like usual. you’re excited from a raise at work, and he’s excited because his students have done exceptionally on their final exams and you’re both celebratory in spirit enough that it turns into a cheery hug—and then…and then you’re kissing.

that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it does. you don’t know who kisses who, but you’re both wrapped up in each other and your lips are pressed against the others and oh, he feels so, so familiar.

like home. even if it’s not always safe to be there anymore, it’s still your home. you can’t let go of that nostalgia.

and then his hands cup your cheeks and your arms wrap around his neck and suddenly he’s in your bed—your door was already unlocked and the two of you somehow managed to stumble through the entire apartment until your back hits your mattress. your place is similar enough to his that he finds your room without any issues.

it was never supposed to happen—the shedding of clothes and the desperately needy kisses. the way you held his face and he held you. the way he trembled as he touched you, scared he’d mess it up again. the way you laced your fingers and kissed him between his brows like old times.

and then he fucks you like he means it. has his head in the crook of your neck and sniffles into your skin, rolls his hips and makes you mewl his name while he tells you every good thing about you.

you’re beautiful, the prettiest he’s ever seen. you’re so soft when you love, so delicate with the ones who hold your affection, it’s too much for anyone to deserve. you’re laugh is like music, a melody that’s impossible to grow tired of. but the most important part? you look at everyone like they’re worth something—just for existing, just for being there with you and crossing your path. worth your time, and energy, and compassion. they never have to work for it.

it’s rare, finding someone like that. it’s even more rare to get them to fall in love with you—satoru has never stopped regretting letting that go.

he whispers that all through breathy moans and the occasional cracked sob. whimpers when your fingers lock into his hair and pull the strands when his swollen tip kisses that spot he never forgot how to find. you cum first, falling apart with a gasp—and he cums right after, like feeling you is what it takes to make him come undone.

you still do that thing you did—rubbing his back as he spills into you, soothing him as he pants harshly into your skin. the only difference is that you don’t kiss his head sweetly and call him yours. god, he misses that so, so badly.

when his body slumps over yours, it’s when it hits you, what you just did.

“oh no,” you breathe, “oh god. we….we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” you ask tiredly.

satoru’s lip is trembling—he can’t bear to have you regret him. not again.

“i love you,” he says desperately, “i…i never stopped.”

“obviously you didn’t love me enough,” you mumble, not looking at him. it’s something you’ve realized—looking satoru in his eyes makes you weak.

you can’t have that.

“i’ll love you more than enough now,” he promises.

“what if i say i don’t love you anymore, satoru?” you challenge, “it’s been years. i didn’t wait around for you.”

his breath shakes at that. you think you got him there, but apparently he’s determined. it shocks you.

“then i’ll love enough for the both of us.”

for a moment, you can’t help but think if only everyone could see him now. years later. gojo satoru begging you to let him love you hard enough that you don’t have to. being okay with half of you because that’s better than none of you.

it’s almost comical. maybe a little sad. entirely avoidable if he’d just been brave from the start.

“that’s not fair to you,” you sigh, “you’re an asshole but…but you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who can love you—”

“then i’ll show you,” he grabs your hand, pressing it to his face as he looks at you with enough hope that it’s almost too cruel to crush it. even for someone like him. “i’ll show you how to love me again. it’ll be easier this time. i promise.”

there’s a tear that slips down his cheek—and then another and another and another. and your thumb, just like muscle memory, swipes it away.

you want to tell him—it’s always been so, so easy to love satoru. easier than anything in the world. easier than loving yourself. it came like second nature, flowed through your blood stream and pumped through your heart. you loved him so easily.

you wish he’d loved himself a little bit easier back then. maybe he’d have realized who was worth keeping and who wasn’t. maybe he’d be happier now—a selfish part of you thinks you could’ve been happier that way too.

“satoru,” you sigh, “i have more self respect these days.”

“i know,” he nods, “i’ll be good—so good. i promise. i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and we can have three cats and i’ll pay for the vet visits. just like you always wanted.”

you can’t help but chuckle at that. he’s always known how to be charming at the right times.

“and what about the fancy window i always wanted?”

“i’ll get you one of those too,” he swears, “find us a nice place by the school and your job and we’ll be the best cat parents ever. and i’ll be good. so good.”

“i can’t do that all again,” you shake your head, “crying over someone like you is not worth it.”

“i won’t make you cry,” he insists.

something in you screams to believe him—that voice from your youth. that one that never quite stopped falling in love. that one that can’t ever really let him go.

“you don’t deserve me,” you mumble, pulling him close. he tucks his head into your neck, kisses your skin and breathes you in like he needs you to live.

maybe he does.

“i know,” he murmurs. “but i love you. i’ll make you love me again.”

“good luck,” you snort—your hand weaves into his hair, and your lips kiss his head.

well….maybe he’s already succeeded.

[greenorangevioletgrass]

tuesday in the park (a.d.)

pairing: divorced!art x reader

synopsis: your alone time at the park takes an interesting turn when a little girl breaks the quiet, but maybe... her dad is a good company.

warnings: language, smoking, mention of divorce, lily is an adorable lil oblivious cupid, sooo much tension tho, maybe smut in future parts? idk

notes: i am back and pathetic bitch boy art has officially given me a brainrot. this is also very self-indulgent and heavily based on my irl experience (except the fact that it's art, sadly) soooo... enjoy!

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City parks are fucking depressing. Especially the industrial type that’s square, and covered in concrete and has, like, four trees. They’re all well-manicured and hung with string lights, but there’s still barely enough greens to call it a park. And to add insult to injury, a Tiffany’s installation art currently sits at the head of the park—a giant diamond ring in a lush velvet box the size of a Range Rover. It’s gaudy as shit, and the massive Aston Martin billboard overhead is an assault to the eyes. You honestly have no idea why you’re sitting here.

Oh, right. It’s like 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon in some downtown office area, so there’s nobody else there. You can just sit and smoke and watch the water spout from the ground in pretty patterns. The steady rhythm of the fountain jets quiets the chaos in your mind.

Inhale. Exhale. As the fountain hisses and ceases, hisses and ceases…

And then suddenly… another pattern.

A pitter-patter. Like little footsteps. Quick moving, and then it stops. Right to your left.

You turn your head and see a little girl sitting right next to you. Her white sneakers look so small next to yours. She pushes a lock of dark ringlets off of her face as she watches the floor fountain in quiet curiosity and awe.

It takes you a moment to realize you still had a cigarette in your hand. You quickly stub it out as far from her as you can. “Uh… hello.” You frown at your own words, but how the fuck do you talk to kids in this situation?!

But the kid looks up and smiles at you politely. “Hello.” she nods and then returns her gaze to the water bursting in canon.

You’re even more confused. She doesn’t even seem deterred by sitting next to a stranger—willingly, at that. “Well, are you… are you alone?” 

“No. With my dad,” she answers, light as a feather.

“Oh, good. Good.” You sigh in relief and look around for any sign of a parent, adult, anyone looking for a missing child. “Where’s your—”

“Lily! There you are!” A man’s voice cuts through the dull noise of the city. You turn around to see him rushing over to the little girl, grimacing apologetically at you. “Sorry. I’m not a negligent father, I swear. I just… turned around and this little monkey’s run off.”

The little girl—Lily, apparently— giggles as her dad throws her a look, gentle but firm. “You said we could watch the water fountains, Daddy!”

“Yeah, but don’t run off like that…” He rolls his eyes, though you notice his sharp jaw twitching with a hidden smile.  And then, leaning into Lily’s ear but still loud enough within your earshot, “And you certainly weren’t supposed to invade this nice lady’s personal space—”

“It’s no trouble. I was just sitting here,” you quickly wave him off.

“Daddy, can I play over there?” Lily points at the streaming water at the center of the park.

The man pulls a face. “I don’t know, Lil—”

“Come on, Daddy…” 

“No way.”

“Just for five minutes. Please?” She bats her eyelashes, and you can immediately tell it’s her father’s Achilles heel. Because as much as you try to stay out of the conversation, you can hear the audible sigh coming from him, followed by,

“Fine. Five minutes, okay?”

The little girl bolts off to the fountains, tiny hands reaching out to the jet streams, testing out how strong it is. Figuring out the fountain pattern and stepping on each jet right as it shuts off, one foot after the other. It makes you wish it was socially acceptable for adults to do that, too. 

“You’re free to sit and watch her from here, if you want.”

He looks at you, like really looks at you for the first time. At your rolled-up button-down, the chain around your neck with a pendant he can’t see under your collar. But mostly at your kind eyes—weathered, witnessed, but somehow not judging.

He pushes his short blond hair out of his face the same way the little girl does, and the similarity almost makes you laugh… if you weren’t so worried about making a fool of yourself in front of this handsome man. “You sure? I… didn’t want to intrude.”

You shake your head softly and scoot over on the steps, allowing him just enough space to sit down.

He notices the stubbed cigarette between your forefinger and middle finger. “You got another one on you?”

It takes you a beat to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh!” You reach for your pack of Camel, and offer it to him, one cigarette stick already pushed out for easier access.

He takes it with a polite smile, but then pauses upon realizing he has no lighter either. “Um, do you mind if I borrow—”

You lean in as he puts it between his lips, one hand cupping the light from the breeze, and his heart stops at how close you are. Close enough to notice the gloss on your lips. Close enough to get a faint whiff of your floral perfume.

(And unbeknownst to him, your heart stutters a little, too, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you fumble lighting your own cigarette.)

“Thanks, um…” he trails off. 

You tell him your name, and he repeats it almost thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of your name as it leaves his mouth.

He nods. “I’m Art.”

He does look like it. The navy blue sweater hangs just right on his broad shoulders, understated but high-quality. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing a sleek black Piguet around his wrist. A simplicity to complement his refined features. His bone structure is cut like the gods, but the permanent frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, tells you that he is facing the troubles of man. And the awkward way he’s holding his cigarette makes him look like a boy. Of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with,

“Nice to meet you, Art.”

He can’t remember the last time somebody said that to him and meant it. And right now, sitting in this concrete park alone, he can see no pretense coming from you. No ass-kissing, no sizing-up, just a genuine kind gesture of a stranger. And it makes him so fucking relieved. 

“So what brings you out here?”

“Work, actually. A meeting,” Art replies somewhat vaguely. He’s not really keen on divulging the details of sponsorship and endorsement deals. Not when you don’t seem to know who he is. “Lily saw the park from the window and insisted we check it out when we’re done.”

“Ah, does she normally tag along with you to work meetings?” You ask with a playful glint, although the unspoken question of his whole situation is well heard. “She should. She looks like a great negotiator. Just saying.”

He chuckles. “Maybe she should. My, uh…” Art stops himself before he could say ‘wife’ because Tashi isn’t that anymore. Not his wife because they aren’t married anymore; not his coach either, because he doesn’t play tennis anymore. ���Lily’s mom and I take turns every other week.”

And there it is. Your lips pull up into a soft line, not quite a smile but a gesture of understanding. “Must be tough.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot of changes. But she’s doing okay, I think…” Art pauses, “I hope.”

You follow his gaze and look at Lily, who must be playing some kind of Indiana Jones fantasy scenario with the water fountains. Not an ounce of care in the world. “She looks like a tough kid.”

“She is.” Art smiles bittersweetly. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my sob story. What brings you to this park?”

The air that pulls both of you in releases, and you lean back on your elbows against the concrete. “Oh, I just finished work and I… needed some air.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an interpreter.”

His eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Like the Nicole Kidman movie?”

“Exactly.” You point your half-cigarette at him, and share a tentative smile with him.

“Do you do, like… high-profile, UN-related assassination investigations, too?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not nearly as cool in real life. Most of it’s pretty boring, like contract negotiations and focus group discussions…”

“But the stories you must’ve heard, right? Or do you just… zone out at some point?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes you end up shutting off your brain and go on autopilot.”

“But not today?”

You smile ruefully at him, and he knows the answer. You take a thoughtful puff of your cigarette. “It’s… a bit hard when they’re talking about… how they had to jump off of the ship and swim across the channel in the dead of night, because they would rather die in the open water—a couple of them did— than die working in the fishing vessel…”

“Fuck.”

“And I know it’s not really meant for me—they’re talking to my client sitting next to me. But when they look you in the eyes and speak to you…” you trail off, taking a long drag of your cigarette.

Art takes it as a cue for his cigarette, too, although he notices you tapping the ashes off one, two, three times. “Must be tough.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him for quoting your own words back to you. “Ah well, it pays the bills. Besides, I get to clock out at 2PM on a Tuesday and enjoy this…” you inhale through your teeth disdainfully, “beautiful, brutalist… Soviet-core park.”

He laughs, the real kind of laughter that throws his head back, and it warms your heart enough to laugh, too. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

“It’s bullshit! And what the fuck is that horrendous giant ring doing here?” The two of you cackle over the installation art across the park. “And that billboard… it’s ridiculous.”

Art’s laughter dies down on his lips as he looks up at the billboard in question. The Aston Martin “Game Changers” campaign from last year. Fuck. Even when he’s completely separated from Tashi, her presence still looms over like a panopticon.

You turn to him with a smile still etched on your face, completely oblivious to the storm in his head. “What?”

But he looks ahead, too caught up in the hurricane to hear you. He just… looks up at the billboard, his face darkens.

Oh.

You feel silly for not putting two and two together—you’ve been staring at the billboard mindlessly for a good fifteen minutes, goddammit— so you tread very carefully. “That, uh… Lily’s mom?”

Art looks down on his lap, as if not daring to look at Tashi’s picture. Or at Lily, or at you. “Yeah.”

There’s no right word for it. There’s no coming back from this, nothing he can say can make this better, and he can’t help but kick himself for fucking up. What he is fucking up, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s not ready to end this conversation with you, not on such a weird note.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like…” because you can’t. Losing a spouse is hard enough, but to have it out there in the open…

“It’s tough,” he nods in confirmation, and you smile feebly at his attempt at a callback to your little inside joke. To the moment where things are fine, all things considered. 

If the air ebbed and flowed earlier, it must’ve just… froze now. You don’t even remember the cigarette in your hand until the ash falls onto your hand and you gasp at the sudden heat, putting it out on the ground.

“I’m sorry. I should get out of your hair—”

“Do you wanna get a drink some time?”

The question catches both of you off-guard, eyes blinking at each other in shock. He didn’t think he heard you right, and your mouth seems to work faster than the filter in your brain.

Your face runs hot, and you chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t wanna hear that—”

“I do.” He’s not sure which question he’s answering. Maybe both? Definitely both.

“Oh! Um…”

And right in that moment, Lily comes padding over with squelching steps in her shoes, completely drenched but over the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, that was so much fun! Can we come back here? I see lights on the floor, and I think the fountain lights up at night!”

Art puts out his cigarette under his shoe, chuckling at his daughter,  “Baby, you’re soaked! Did you try to take a shower there or something?” immediately wringing water out of her hair.

“I’ll take a real shower when we get home.”

“Well, duh. But I don’t want you to catch a cold… come here.” He crosses his arm to grab the hem of his sweater and tug it over his head to put it on his daughter.

The girl looks thoroughly unamused as the clothing item falls halfway down her calves and the sleeves nearly touch the ground. “Daddy, this is ridiculous.”

You grin, and you can’t help but wonder how much of that sass came from Art. “Looks pretty chic to me.”

He nods at you, glad that you’re backing him up. “Thank you.” He then turns to Lily pointedly.

Lily half-smiles at you. “Thank you,” although she still isn’t quite convinced.

“I’m sorry, we really gotta go. But how do I, um…” he trails off. Gosh, he was hoping to do this out of Lily’s sight. Lily’s sight means Tashi’s sight, and he’s not ready for that talk just yet.

“Take my card.” You whip out a neat stainless steel case, and slides out a white-and-blue business card. Your name is printed in a sleek black font, right above ‘Interpreter’ in a smaller case. Your email and phone number follows.

His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, and he prays to God or whoever is up there that he doesn’t give anything away to you or Lily. Not a quirk, not a peep. Just two strangers connecting by chance.

“Thank you.” He nods evenly as he pockets the card, trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach—he’s always thought he was too old for that by now, but maybe… just maybe… “You have a nice day.”

“You, too.” You squint up at him under the sun, and then smile and wave at the little girl. “Bye, Lily.”

She waves at you as Art sweeps her up into his arms, and you don’t let yourself turn all the way around to watch them leave. Instead, with one final look at Art’s “Game Changers” billboard ad in the distance, you grab your pack of Camel and light another cigarette between your lips.

[mostly-imagines]

Moonstruck

jason todd x reader

aka sober thoughts and all that

warnings: intoxication

Jason has a thing about drinking around you. He’d kind of skirted around it for a while when you were first dating, but after a while you’d noticed he never really has more than a drink or two regardless of how much you had. The only times you ever see him drink more is when he’s downing whiskey as a pain mitigater when he needs stitches. You’d initially assumed he just wasn’t a big drinker, but eventually you’d come to realize it was more of a matter of not wanting to lose his inhibitions around you. 

You know he’s still working on trusting himself, even sober, because he’s terrified of accidentally hurting you. But you have a hard time imagining him losing control like that in any state and you’re nearly certain he’s just being hard on himself.

You’ve been falling in and out of less than peaceful sleep for the past few hours, having trouble easing yourself while your boyfriend is still out. You at least attempted to get to bed earlier tonight because for once he isn’t out fighting crime and risking injury, though you haven’t found much more luck than usual. 

You lie on your back, half ready to give up and turn on a movie while you wait.

You’re momentarily startled to hear Dick bellow out your name, no regard for the fact that it’s nearing three in the morning and you have neighbors. He’s not much of a shouter so you’re instantly on alert, worried that he or Jason are hurt.

You fumble out of bed and rush to the living room, surprised to find your fire escape empty. You turn, proceeding towards the front door, opening it cautiously. 

“Dick? What—” You don’t need to finish your question because the second you take one good look at the two of them, the state of them is immediately clear. Dick, who’s barely standing upright on his own, supports your boyfriend's weight via Jason’s arm slinged around his shoulder.

“Hey!” Dick grins at you, far more lively than he has any business being this late at night. “Sorry, couldn’t remember which apartment was yours.”

You nod pensively, “Well the perspective’s different than when you’re coming in through the window.”

He continues on past that without thought, “I’ve come to deliver,” he says, gesturing up to Jason with a bit of a strain. You’re pretty sure there were supposed to be a couple more words at the end of that sentence but you understand well enough anyway.

You nod, eyebrows raised and try to hide a smile. “Thanks, Dick.” He shifts your boyfriend off of his shoulder to lean him up against the door frame, where Jason places a majority of his weight.

You eye him warily, not confident in his steadiness. He seems to hold well enough against the heavy door though, his eyes drifting around the tiled floor. Your attention shifts to Dick, who’s clearly satisfied with a job well done and ready to go.

You tilt your head, seeing him turn away. “You good?”

“I’m great!” He calls out with a thumbs up. You watch as he staggers away, nearly missing the exit.

You look back over at Jason, who’s already staring at you with a soft gaze. “You’re pretty,” he fawns, irises blown out and flickering all over your face.

“Oh you’re drunk drunk.” You grin, watching him stumble forward a bit.

He shakes his head, looking a bit dizzy after, “Shoulda seen Tim.”

You pause mid laugh, “…Who drove you here?”

He falters at that, gaze falling to the floor. “Uh…” He winces, “Damian…”

You nod slowly, eyes wide, “We’re gonna talk about that tomorrow.”

“He’s better than you’d think.” You’d hope so. 

Well, at least he’s spending time with his brothers.

You sigh, straightening your posture in preparation for the job to come. “Alright, come on big guy,” you pull him up from his slant against the wall, hauling him into the same position he’d been in with Dick—though you’re struggling significantly more to hold him upright. “You gotta help me out here, Jay,” you grunt, trying very hard not to fold under his weight. You swat the door shut behind you, making peace with the fact that he’ll scold in the morning for not locking it.

He presses an uncoordinated kiss to the side of your head as you try to shuffle him along, not interested in the least in easing your labor. His self discipline isn't quite gone, but his awareness of how big he is sure seems to be. 

You wobble from the heavy weight of his arm around your shoulders, holding onto him by his waist. You manage to get him to sidestep your cat, narrowly, though Salem hisses at him all the same. Jason takes no notice. You stumble into your bedroom with only about 30% of his usual balance aiding your effort.

He collapses onto the bed the second his legs hit the frame, pulling you down with him. You lie, somewhat awkwardly, on his chest as he holds you tight—probably tighter than he would if he were sober. It feels nice though.

You lie your cheek flat on his chest, relaxing against him. “What’d you guys do? Thought you were just having an easy night.”

He takes a deep breath before answering, “Raided Dick’s liquor c—” he stops, mulling over his words. “...Bruce’s liquor that was in Dick’s cabinet.” He annunciates every word in that sentence very carefully.

You squint speculatively, “Didn’t take Dick for the stealing type.”

He grumbles, “He’s not. ‘Less it’s Bruce.”

You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face, “Aw, you really do take after your big brother, don’t you?” 

He scoffs at that, “I don’t. I’m the one who gave him the idea.” Yeah, that sounds right.

He taps on your cheek lightly and you pick your head up to find him looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“What’s that look for?”

“Can I kiss you?” his eyes drop down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you.” He’s nearly whispering and you feel your heart skip several beats at the feeling of his eyes on you like this.

You press a light kiss to his lips and he practically purrs.  

You pull back, admiring the serene expression on his face. “You taste like whiskey.”

“I like whiskey,” he says honestly.

You smile, nodding. “I know. Don’t know why, but..”

He leans in for another kiss but you parry, only letting his lips meet your cheek. He frowns grimly, attempting to chase your lips. 

“Lemme kiss you,” the pout on his face is adorable and while you hesitate to deny him, you retreat, resting your chin on his chest.

You smile wistfully, tracing his cheekbone, “You’re drunk, baby.”

“‘M not that drunk,” he tells you, though everything about him says otherwise.

Your hand falls flat on his shoulder. “Your eleven year old brother drove you here.”

He shrugs, “He can drive the bat…batcar? Bat…”

“Batmobile,” you finish.

“The batmobile.” he nods, as if he was seconds away from remembering. You suspect he wasn’t. 

“Bruce lets him drive it?” you question, wholly disbelieving.

“No.”

Enough said.

“You’re gonna be hungover as hell in the morning,” you mumble, taking in his uninhibited demeanor.

He nods that off, “‘S okay. You’ll be here, right?”

You tilt your head, observing him chalantly. “Where else would I go?”

His arms snake tighter around you at that, giving you a little squeeze before relenting. 

“I wanna marry you,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it neatly behind your ear. 

You blink rapidly a few times, “What?” You push yourself up on his chest, sitting up on his abdomen.

“Wanna marry you.” He repeats, eyes lidded as he breathes easy under you. “You’re m’favorite person…want you t’be my wife.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “..You want me to be your wife?”

His lips are slightly parted and his pupils are wide as he stares up at you, taking in your features carefully. “‘Course I do.” He brings his fingers up to your cheek, touching you softly with all the wonderment of a little kid. “You’re so pretty.”

You’re quick to return, “So are you.” Especially right now.

He shuts his eyes momentarily, shaking his head morosely, “You gotta stop bein’ so nice t’me,” he lets his hand fall to rest on your thigh. “Don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up,” you lour, “You deserve it more than anybody.”

“No. Not more than you,” his hands knead at your thighs like it’s an instinct. “You deserve everything.” He closes his eyes, tilting his chin up as his head sinks further back into the pillow. “Think I’d do anything you wanted.”

“Jay—”

He continues on, “Want you t’be happy. Wanna make you happy.”

Your face falls into an expression of dazed awe, “You do make me happy.”

He dwindles at that, “No, really happy. Take care of you. Build you a house, give you babies. Wha’ever you want.”

He paws at your thighs, trying to get you to come closer again to him. You lay back down on top of him and his hand instantly buries itself in your hair, stroking softly. “You’re just…you’re so perfect…” He turns his head to mumble against your forehead, “Feel like I dreamed you, sometimes.”

You breathe deeply against the crook of his neck, eyes feeling glassy. “I love you.” It’s all you can get out, and it’s not enough, but it’s all of it. 

“I love you,” he says like he’s trying to turn it into gospel. “So much. I love you so much, so fuckin’ much.” His words start to get lost in his weary babbling.

Your chest feels full and you can distinctly feel every beat of your heart against it. Or maybe it’s Jason’s heart. But what’s the difference?

You press a tender kiss to the nape of his neck. “You’re really sweet when you’re drunk, you know that?”

He hums lowly, head lulling against yours.

You still for a second, finding his breathing has slowed and his hand has seized its movement in your hair. His soft breaths fill the air as you press a kiss to his collarbone before settling in completely. “You’re gonna love when I tell you about this in the morning,” you whisper, letting your eyes shut too.

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