#Reader X Jason

[nikolasartist]

Я намагаюся просувати свій фанфік якомога більше, пха.

The last sun before we die (Jaison Kolchek/Mreader; Salim Othman/Mreader)

- Will you eat it? The unidentified man calmly, without a hint of hostility, handed the surprised Iraqi a cereal bar and began to eat his own. It all looked so damned unreal, so much so that the Iranian soldier nervously burst out laughing as he continued to eat. - Why? - the foreigner suddenly asked the pilot in English. - Believe me, starving to death is the worst thing you can do in the end. Damn, the monsters make me hungry.

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

Even the most resilient of people would go crazy from the heat, losing some measure of sanity under the scorching rays for a while. You lose a complete understanding of work, its meaning, and question whether want to do it to the best of  ability. Or is it better to quit, saving your own skin and comfort. The small amount of fluid in the body was now more annoying than supporting the system of the tired body, unpleasantly making the T-shirt stick tightly to the wet curves of the body.   

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

It's endless. A vicious circle that seems to go on forever, driving you crazy about the most ordinary things. The ticking of the wristwatch on left hand not only pushes him to smash it against the rocks, but also causes unpleasant cramps in the Marine's lower abdomen. It looked like a countdown to something big, as people say: a bad feeling? Or maybe the man was starting to go a little crazy, because even his partners seemed to completely ignore the sounds of their own similar watches.

At that thought, the man exhaled desperately and kicked a small pebble with all his might, hitting another pair of military boots standing nearby with precision and clarity. Okay, the word "precisely" doesn't fit here, it was more like a crooked and bad kick that immediately sent the pebble in the opposite direction

- Whoa! Careful, sniper, what if I lose my leg? Now is not the time for training on live targets, especially if it's me

- Ha-ha, very funny, Nicky,- the infantryman snorted, adjusting his military panama hat for the hundredth time, which treacherously fell over his eyes with every movement of his head, - but doesn't the fact that I chose you as a target show my love for you? - the man batted his eyelashes at the last words, covering the lower part of his face as if trying to hide his blush.

- Then you'd better hate me, Chris.

- Not you, so Jason will love me. Right, Kolcek?

- Or I'll hate you both together.

Another snort escaped uncontrollably, turning into a laugh with occasional grunts. It sounded as if the seagull had turned into a pig that had failed and was beginning to die. The laughter was so uncontrollable that the infantryman could only bend in half and lean on his knees to keep from falling. The rifle that was now hanging on his back periodically slapped him with each burst of laughter, leaving behind a not deafening sound. The man could no longer control his own grunting and tried to hide the remnants of his shame and dignity with the bandana tied around his neck. Through the laughter, Stokes caught his partners' small remarks to each other:

- Did I have something on my face? - Jason asked with sincere surprise and a slightly distinctive American accent of the area where he lived. 

- Should I tell you the truth or be nice?

- Nick, do you want me to be gentle or cruel?

- I have to ask, what exactly do you give me in the choice?

Poor Chris crossed the line so far that it might have been considered normal laughter, as his normally tanned face began to change colors catastrophically quickly to red and gasp for breath.This shame will stay with him to the grave.

The bending of his body eventually forced the annoying panama hat to fall to the ground, falling mercilessly into the dust and dirt. Christopher didn't really care about it, and moreover, the object that had been covering his eyes was finally gone, and life became brighter. In the literal sense. However, the internal celebration of this kind of liberation was short-lived, because something more valuable, much more valuable, like a treasure, fell from head. His life-worn glasses, the lenses of which were scratched and irrevocably stained in some places, the left temple of which had been taped over a dozen times, fell to the ground with a soft thud, pulling out a few hairs.

The laughter stopped instantly, replaced by horror as the man crouched down and picked up the object he needed. Blind as a mole, Stokes began to test it by touch, running his fingers over the cool surface of the glass, and almost immediately breathed a sigh of relief when he found no cracks. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the taped left temple of the glasses, which was betrayed by the tape, which came off due to dust, making it crooked and unstable again. 

- Bitch, - the infantryman shamelessly cursed under his breath as he continued to feel for the tape in his pockets.

- Let me help you, - a familiar accent said very close to his ear

Someone else's exhalation in  ear caused herds of ants to run through body, disarming  mind like a fever, and feeling  hands almost suddenly sweat as clutched the fragile thing tightly. To hell with it, the soldier was now grateful for the merciless Iranian sun and the previous bout of laughter that had hidden the insidious redness of his cheeks caused by something more personal.

 Chris realized that Jason had come so close only to avoid frightening his blind partner, nothing more, but one slightly raspy voice with a southern American accent was enough to lose all concentration. Jason's voice was unapologetically funny at some points, due to the place of his birth, which made some words sound peculiar, but somehow it felt so new and familiar at the same time that Stokes not only wanted to, but craved to talk to Kolchek more, listening to every letter and sound. It sounded alive, not perfect and real. 

- Thank you, - the American whispered uncomfortably, blindly handing over his glasses as a pair of hands took them away.

- Isn't that why I'm here? Marines do not abandon each other. 

- Semper Fi, right? Even if it's just to glue my glasses for the hundredth time?

- Semper Fi. Even in the thousandth.

Bored in anticipation, the man tried to look at the environment and everything in it without his glasses. He understood perfectly well that God would not grant him enlightenment and restore his sight, but it was so interesting to kill boredom from time to time by drawing new pictures over and over again from the usual boring landscapes of everyday life. The whole world turned into a cluster of different colors and shapes, a complete abstraction. Van Gogh would have been jealous. It was just a pity that Stokes had no talent or desire to paint, so that more people than himself could see it. This entertainment did not last long, as a lump came to his throat and a wild desire to empty his stomach. The side effects of his "artistic vision" in the form of vomiting came almost instantly, as soon as he was without glasses for even five minutes.

- Close your eyes and count to ten, slowly. With each count, exhale deeply, - Kolchek's voice whispered in ear again, like a haunting curse, drawing everyone's attention to him and his hand, which began to slowly stroke back under the rifle.

- Water, perhaps? 

Nick finally reminded of his presence in time, giving Christopher relief and the opportunity to breathe with a full lung when Jason's attention was distracted. 

- I'm more in need of good eyesight, an endless supply of glasses and protein bars, but thanks.

- Eternally hungry.

- You always smoke like a chimney.

- Blind.

- Giant.

- It's done.

- Gods, Jason, you're my life saver! 

- And I offered water, so without me you will die under the sun in the next few hours, because of your own stupidity. I will not miss you.

This phrase will play a role in your future

- Yes, yes, I hate you too, but tell me how bad the cosmetic repair of my glasses looks. No, I'd rather you both tell me how bad it is on a scale of one to ten.

- Ouch, so cruel to Jason's help,-  the black man teased.

- But he's the only one who came to help, Nicky, -  Chris countered, - so what? How do you rate your own work? - his emerald eyes bore into the brunette in the cap.

The cruel internal irony was waiting for one good comment to come along, as an incentive and support to stay with this pair of glasses as long as possible, no matter how shitty they looked. He was not ready to get rid of them, the wounds were too fresh and would only start bleeding violently if he tore off the band-aid that served as the old, shabby glasses. As he waited, Chris never took his eyes off Kolchek's dark and mesmerizing eyes, which seemed to bring everyone to their knees if they wanted to. They resembled a combination of dark chocolate dipped in honey, but if the man stood a little to the side, at an angle of the sun's rays, the lighting changed the deep look to something warm, and the surface of the dark chocolate simply melted into a milky chocolate that tasted great with tea. It would seem that a coherent answer to this question could have come immediately, given that each of them knew the real answer, but Jason suddenly capitulated, looking away and coughing into his fist as he returned to his patrol. Kolchek was not very good at such matters, which could and even should have touched his empathic side, especially complicated by his bluntness and not always being able to keep the truth behind his teeth. The man tried to avoid it, being soft now could mean an untimely death, emotions were something they, Marines, had to be able to keep under control.  However, the brunette failed, time after time, a stupid smile creeping onto his face, as soon as he looked at his partners, who were no longer strangers from the beginning of their service, now they were brothers, his only friends in all these years, with whom it was impossible to be a cold wall. 

Semper Fi was now their motto for life.

The unpleasant morning abdominal cramps have been replaced by new painful sensations in my chest that take my breath away. This is what disappointment tastes like. Exhaling sharply through the gap between his front teeth, Stokes finally picked up his own panama hat, shaking off the dirt and dust that had managed to penetrate the dark green fabric, making it a point to take a proper shower later, because he would no longer be sure of the cleanliness of his hair. It was quite surprising how, in a few seconds, the hated part of the wardrobe became much more interesting than all the subsequent looks and conversations. 

- Well,- Chris finally broke the uncomfortable silence with a dry smile, - your answers are eloquent without words, I'm going to go mourn it over a cigarette. Thank you in advance, Nicky, for the lighter and the cigarette itself.

- But I didn't give you anything...- Nicholas added with suspicion, rustling his hands in his pockets. - You did! How!?

- Sleight of hand, my dear friend, sleight of hand,-  Chris replied, twirling the stolen lighter he had already removed between his fingers and stepping outside the small checkpoint, pulling his panama hat back over head.

- Don't let your guard down, okay? 

That was the last thing that reached Chris's ears in Jason's last moments of silence, but now it was Kolchek's turn to catch the silence and his friend's stingy nod

Almost instantly, the scorching and dry air of the area hit his tanned face, forcing Christopher to squint, habitually expecting a grain of sand to hit his eyes. Having escaped from the merciless nature, the marine decided to lean against the wall of their small checkpoint, where he leaned his weapon as a ritual and did the same. The heated wall wasn't much fun for the smoker, only making his damp T-shirt and sweat-soaked bandana stick to  body more. But it served its purpose quite well for the moment, like protection from the blazing Iranian sun or the occasional sandy wind, so Stokes wasn't complaining, especially since he'd been exposed to worse conditions, so it could even be called a luxury in a way. 

The new portion of nicotine made cough a little, just like the first time. It seemed that the man would never be able to take a drag properly and properly from the first time, almost dying in a coughing fit from the smoke in his lungs. Someone could stop it, why make yourself suffer over and over again for something that destroys you and can even kill you in the long run?

Addiction can be more than just a cigarette, bottle or drug. Addictions take on human images, traits, and cover the spectrum of the addict's emotions, making it impossible to stop. Who knows, maybe we are all born addicted, but the activation and development of the catalyst occurs uniquely for everyone. At different times, ages, or situations.

Chris doesn't remember when he became an addict. Moreover, he doesn't see himself as such, and cigarette after cigarette doesn't change the infantryman's mind. It became part of the process, like hunger or thirst or even air. The body needs, demands, and destroys itself when at least one process is ignored. The language does not turn to call what has become a part of you an addiction.

In other words, it is too weak to admit it to yourself.

The sound of an earpiece in  right ear instantly brought out of his thoughts, forcing  to drop his cigarette in surprise.

- Columbus, this is Mailman Two - One Actual. An unknown person is approaching, be prepared for any eventuality. Over.

- This is Columbus. The order was adopted.Over.

His hands quickly picked up the weapon, automatically remembering to check the magazine for ammunition and receiving his own acknowledgment of readiness, Chris cautiously peered out from behind the wall through the scope, looking at the unknown. It was a small and frail figure, looking like a civilian. The figure walked along holding something in his hands, clutching some packages to his chest, which made the marine feel tense from not knowing what it could be, and his finger squeezed the trigger slightly, but not firing, waiting for further orders.

- Stop right there, - Kolchek's loud and steely voice rang out, - and provide the contents of your packages. If you do not comply, we will open fire.

A chill ran down  spine as he realized the true gravity of the situation. The radical methods of shooting to kill, brought Christopher to a cold, even icy and sticky fear in the pit of his stomach. He will never be able to get used to it, and the look in the empty eyes of the dead haunts his nights, even though those dead could be the terrorists themselves. The current situation plays a major role in how the events will unfold, how many will die or survive.

One shot could have saved someone, but it could have also killed them if it was a civilian.

- Damn it, Jason, she's not stopping.

- You think I can't see that, Nick?

- Then... should I follow the order? -  Kay asked in a whisper, uncertain, even a little afraid.

- Yes. Shoot, buddy,- Kolchek said immediately, without a doubt, trying to contact Chris again. - Columbus, this is Mailman Two - One Actual. Come back to us. Over.

The silence in response made the man frown in displeasure, repeating the call. The uneasiness snaked under the infantryman's skin. Where the hell can you disappear to when you're just a few steps away from them?

- Columbus, this is Mailman Two - One Actual. Can you hear me? Over.

A shrill and loud female scream made Kolchek flinch, quickly turning his gaze to Nicholas, who was beginning to lose color from his own face, despite his dark skin. The body of an unidentified civilian could be seen pinned to the ground by the missing marine, while all the packages were brutally poured out without mercy, some of the food, such as some vegetables or some Iranian sweets, spilled out onto the ground. A wave of emotions washed over Jason: from relief that Stokes was alive and hadn't disappeared to anger that he had left without warning or an order to attack. However, anger quickly overwhelmed the slippery fear in his chest for the man's safety, involuntarily recalling the infamous September 11 attacks, forcing the brunette in the cap to take a quick step away from his post, raising his weapon and holding the pair in his sights. Sgt. Kay followed closely behind, but more slowly, providing the necessary cover.

The girl began to fall silent, and two of the Marines noticed the third of them finally make signs of movement, slowly rising from her, saying something. Only as they got closer did they hear Arabic, which was slightly sharp with a strong American accent.

هل أنت في أمان؟ أنا آسف لإخافتك، لكنك كنت تتصرف بشكل غير مسؤول هنا. كان يمكن أن تُقتل بسبب هذا، أتفهم؟ - ( - I'm sorry I scared you, but you were acting irresponsibly. You could have been killed for that, you know?),  - the junior lieutenant spoke harshly, holding the girl's fallen headphones.

In response, he received only a new and loud girlish sob, and the girl hid behind her hands, covering her face and head, as if wanting to disappear from the men who frightened her, mostly Christopher himself, who spoke to her as if in a language both native and unknown. No wonder she was afraid of them: now, in a foreign land, they were nothing more than hated criminals or murderers associated with the war in their homeland. Chris's expression softened and his guilt blossomed into a new bouquet in his chest as he saw a frightened child, to say the least. How old was she, 17? 19?

أنا آسف- , (- I'm sorry)  - the man whispered, not as harshly as before, with a hint of guilt, picking up the fallen vegetables and sweets from the ground and returning them to their place. At the same time, he inspected the packages.

A feeling of relief came out of lungs as an exhalation, realizing that there was nothing dangerous except the food. Perhaps the most dangerous thing that could have been was the sweets for diabetics.

- She is fine, just couldn't hear us through the headphones, - the feeling of a saved life washed over, making smile stupidly at Jason and Nick.  لا بأس، يمكنك العودة إلى المنزل الآن - ,( - Everything's fine, you can go home.) - Chris handed her the packages, expecting the girl to come out of her shell of fear and run away from them without even looking.

But still, surprisingly, the tanned girl accepted the packages calmly, only throwing frightened glances between the three strangers until she added hoarsely with tears:

أنت... لن تقتلني وعائلتي؟ - (You... won't kill me and my family?) 

 أتفهم سبب اعتقادك ذلك, ( - I understand why you think so,)- Chris could not hide the disappointment in his voice, - كما ترى، كل هذه الفحوصات ضرورية فقط لضمان السلامة. من أجلنا ومن أجلك. (As you can see, all of these checks are only necessary to ensure security. For us and for your people) , - he lied. Their command never accepted the Iranian people.  ألم تأخذ الحرب وقتاً كافياً لإيقاف الموت العبثي أخيراً؟ - (Was the war not enough to finally stop the senseless deaths?) ,اعتني بنفسك (Take care of yourself). - Chris helped the girl to stand up, giving her something from his pocket. - إنه لوح من الحبوب أقسم أنها ليست مسممة, (These are flakes that I swear are not poisoned,) - The marine objected to the suspicion in other people's eyes and showed up to a dozen empty wrappers from his own pockets, - ولذيذ جداً,(and very tasty.)  - the man could not help but smile.

The girl's lips smiled for a split second. It was hard to tell if she was nervous or if she really decided to thank her rescuer with a smile rather than words. Carefully taking the offered treat, she did not dare to put on her headphones and almost ran in the right direction.

- What kind of friendly tea party was that, Columbus!? - Jason finally lowered his weapon, exploding in a wave of anger at his friend. - Or should I ask you first for your disappearance, for not contacting me, and for making contact with the target despite no orders?

Kolchek's cheeks flushed red from an uncontrollable outburst of screaming and anger. Who the hell was the first lieutenant on their team?

-  I apologize, First Lieutenant Kolchek,- Chris spat out irritably, - but if it weren't for me, a civilian was killed for nothing.

- I see where you're going, Junior Sergeant Stokes, - the first lieutenant said, like Christopher, perhaps even with more causticity, - do you want the order immediately or after the ceremony?

- What the hell is wrong with you?!

- What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you! What if Nick had hit you? In the head? In the heart? You'd be fucking dead! 

Both of them, irritated and angry, fell silent, as if not knowing what to do next. One ran away, not even thinking about the safety of his life, and the other broke into a sweat as soon as he saw the body of the first one lying on the target. The realization gradually came to mind, bringing with it a bucket of cold guilt for the two men to face each other, forcing them to look away.

- I... I hit it,- Nicholas broke the silence again, - Chris...? - he turned to Kay in a moment of excitement

Almost simultaneously with Kolchek, Stokes instantly began to examine himself, feeling his heart begin to pound nonstop, echoing in his ears, fueling his internal panic as his own hands touched his body, searching for injuries. The adrenaline was leaving  body, bringing with it a wave of awareness and a tangible aching, slightly burning pain in the back under his right shoulder blade.

- Shit, you're fuking right, - Columbus whispered, gasping for breath, not so much from the wound as from internal panic.

He realized that he might have been exaggerating too much, that the wound was probably not fatal, at least the junior sergeant believed it now, to muffle the frightening pounding of his own heart. But  brain was panicking, drawing picture after picture of him bleeding out irreversibly, getting infected, or dying without waiting for help because of his stupidity. The voices around him seemed to be moving away, and reality gradually disappeared like quicksand, taking the marine into its depths. 

Fuck,  Jason's gonna kill him for sure.

Welcome to my new story! I want to make a few warnings before you dive into reading the next chapters. This game does not belong to me and only Chris and his story are mine.  Some moments will be modified, you know, it's necessary for Chris to be infused canonically and not look like a flat decoration. I can't tell you exactly who the ending will be with, it's all in the process, or even a joint ending is planned, so wait). Oh, yeah, a few more warnings: swearing, blood, traumatic moments, death. There will not be too much adult content, and most likely in the last chapters.My English is not perfect yet, so there may be mistakes. I try to improve with each text  Enjoy reading!

[poltoreveur]

I can’t fix him but I could fuck him.

[c1nnam00n]

me seeing that my fav character barely/doesn’t have any fanfics OR imagines

[valluvslana]

:3

[ivysangel]

Jason Todd has a raging size kink. He tries not to make it too obvious in public, tries to pretend that he doesn't notice how standing next to you really highlights just how large he really is. But it's always on his mind, always front and center, even when he doesn't want it to be.

He'll have a hand on your back as he ushers you through crowded parts of Gotham, trying not to think about how large his hands are and how one of them can cup an entire asscheek when he's fucking you.

He grabs things off of tall shelves at grocery stores when you can't reach them. Comes up behind you and picks them up with ease while he's pressed into you from behind. He's peering down at you, a soft grin on his face as he thinks about you on your knees, struggling to take him in your mouth.

When you're playing twister at a Wayne family function, and you end up falling on each other during a wrong move, he watches you break out into a fit of laughs while he turns red in the face. Not from embarrassment, he couldn't care less about that, but because the first thought that popped into his head as you were pinned under him was how much he wished you could stay there.

For a split second, an image is projected into his mind of you squirming beneath him as he puts all of his weight on you. All 200+ pounds keeping you firmly in place as he fucks you good and deep just how you like.

He's scrambling to get off of you now; a shade of crimson akin to the one he dons at night colors the visible parts of his body, and he clears his throat awkwardly as he helps you to your feet.

"In hindsight, he should've played with one of us," Dick says from the couch. He's gesturing toward you when he continues, "he's just too big in comparison. Throw's everything off."

Jason doesn't hear the second part. His ears start ringing the moment he's reminded that everyone else is aware of how big he is next to you, and he's very quickly calculating how many more rounds of twister he has to go before the two of you can politely duck out and head home for a more...intimate version of the game.

[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol.I

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s girlfriend

4 in 1 blurbs

vol. II

warnings: mildly creepy guys, standard protective bf methods

Jason’s good at shutting people up very quickly. You’d almost call it a talent.

He shuts you up with a kiss when you get stuck in a rant, or with a hug to calm your worried rambles.

And when you’re in an incorrigibly teasing mood, he’ll throw you over his shoulder and carry you back to your bedroom to really shut you up.

With other people though, he has…different methods.

You sit atop your kitchen counter, trading lazy kisses in between giggles with your boyfriend. He stands in front of you, hands massaging your thighs as he leans in for another. You happily oblige.

You break off the exchange to lay a series of sweet kisses on that spot under his jaw.

His head tilts back, letting out a groan so low you nearly miss it. “Sweetheart…” he warns.

“Sorry…” you resign with a sheepish smile.

A knock at the door bursts you out of your shared reverie. You press a kiss to his knuckles and hop down to start setting the table.

Jason gets the door, greeting the pizza guy with a nod as you shuffle around the kitchen. The delivery guy hands him a receipt, asking for a signature.

Jason uses the door as a surface to sign, giving the delivery guy an apt view into your apartment, where he sees you getting out plates in the kitchen. More noticeably, he sees you in your boyfriend's shirt, which rides up just a little bit when you stand up on your toes to reach the top cabinet. The lift of the shirt exposes the bottom of your underwear, though it falls back into place again just as quickly.

Now, lucky for this guy, Jason’s facing the door and does not see him checking you out in your own home. Unlucky for this guy, he has wildly misread the vibe of your relationship. Or at least your boyfriend.

“Man, how do you get anything done around here?” He jests.

Jason looks up at him, and the pizza man’s eyes tear away from your legs to meet his hard gaze. It does not take him long to realize his mistake.

“Try again.” Jason behests, arms crossed in front of him.

The pizza boy’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, stuttering. “I—uh, I said have a good night.”

“Mhm.” He grumbles.

The pizza guy hands Jason the box with shaky hands and scuttles back down the hallway.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice the exchange, but even so, your boyfriend still glowers down the hallway after him.

“Jay?”

His attention snaps back to you, demeanor changing instantly. “Yeah, baby?”

You’re sitting in your usual spot at the table, his chair empty and waiting just around the corner from you.

“Come sit.” You say, with eyes that might as well be hearts.

He gives a reassuring nod and kicks the door shut behind him.

You and Jason are sitting on the floor in his old room at the manor, your legs thrown over his. You lean up against his bed, asking him about posters on the walls and trinkets on the shelves.

His knee is propped up and your arm dangles across it, his hand in yours. He plays with your fingers and periodically leans forward to leave a kiss on them.

You’d just woken up less than an hour ago after spending the night post-gala, and it’s a peaceful, if not unusually quiet morning.

Dick shouts your name from another room, audibly booking it towards you. Yeah. That’s more like what Jason remembers.

He grumbles some annoyances, dropping his head against your intertwined hands.

Dick bursts into the room, clearly incredibly excited.

“What’s up, Dick?” You ask, calm as ever. Jason lets an unseen smile creep up, head still down.

Dick’s practically jumping up and down, “You gotta see the shit that Tim just found in the cave!” His face drops as he directs his gaze to Jason, “You’re not invited.”

“Thank God.”

Dick ignores him and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from the floor. This is one place where he differs from Jason—he’s not always quite so aware of his own strength.

His grip doesn’t hurt really, but it’s firm enough that you imagine there’ll be bruise marks there later.

“Hey.” Jason calls out, nodding his head to where Dick is holding your arm. “Ease up.”

Dick follows his gaze and immediately loosens his hold, apologizing to you before pulling you along once again (this time much more gentle).

You grin at Jason as he tugs you out the door, him returning it with an endeared smile as he watches you go.

Fuck he loves you.

Jason had a decent break from his night job for once, and was happy to let you drag him out to a bar for a little date. You’d been linked at the hip for most of the night, his hands maintaining their ever present home on your waist with yours rested on his thighs as you told him about your hectic day.

He’d usually prefer to stay in bed with you for as long as possible when he gets time off, but you’d looked so excited asking him to go out with you—he never stood a chance.

You look up into the mirror as you wash your hands, a strand of hair falling into your face as you do. You push it back behind your ear and smile to yourself, recalling the several times Jason had wordlessly done the same throughout the night as you rambled.

You make your way back to the bar, smile immediate on your face when you see your boyfriend. It gets replaced rather quickly though, when a man slides in front of you, cutting off your view of him.

“Hey there.”

You have to take a step back because of how close he decided to stand to you. He looks sober (enough) but wildly overconfident in whatevers about to happen.

"Let me buy you a drink, pretty thing."

Jason calls you pretty thing sometimes. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks and an inescapable smile creep up on your lips. When this guy says it, it makes you literally frown.

"Oh no, I'm okay, my—"

"You seem like a dirty martini kinda girl." He expertly ignores you, clearly trying and failing to make some kind of innuendo there.

Jason's sitting back against the bar, watching the interaction carefully. You still can’t see him, but he’s close and you can rest comfortable knowing he’s looking out for you.

With that reassurance, you don’t play this out quite as carefully as you would if you were alone.

"Look, I don't want a drink from you, thanks."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him because his face contorts quickly to mock-disgust that you figure is really just embarrassment.

“Hey, don’t be a bitch just ‘cause—”

You try to sidestep around him, thoroughly done with this interaction, but he grabs your upper arm harshly, pulling you to an abrupt stop.

Jason stands up real quick, yanking the guy backwards by his collar before you can even process what's happening.

Now, you know that Jason is an objectively intimidating guy. There's not many people that will come face to face with that absolute unit of a man and still decide to keep on trying him. However, you tend to forget that when you're so used to your gentle giant that only ever speaks to you kindly and touches you softly.

But his intimidating status becomes very apparent when the guy spins around, looks up at Jason, and immediately takes four steps back. He actually almost bumps into you in the process, not doing anything to tame Jason’s acute distaste for this man.

"Listen to me—back the fuck off before you get hurt."

“She—”

“I don’t give a fuck. Leave.”

The guy hesitates.

“Now.” Jason adjusts his posture to stand at his staggering full height, clearly with no qualms about putting him back in his place.

That does it for him, the man stumbllng away with half-committed mumbles of “whatever” or “something something lame anyway.”

Jason watches him until he walks out the door, before turning back to you.

He delicately takes your upper arm in his hand, pulling your sleeve up to search for bruising. But as harshly as he had grabbed you, it didn’t have the time to cause a bruise before Jason intervened.

“What’d he say to you?” Jason asks, brow furrowed as he inspects your arm.

“Nothing very interesting.” He looks at you mildly.

You smile and comb his hair back from his forehead, “Don’t worry about him. I’m good.”

He lets your arm go, and exchanges it for holding the back of your head, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You take his other hand and guide him back to your seats.

“Besides,” You look over his shoulder and let out a little shocked gasp. “Guess who just walked in.”

He gives you a questioning look before his face slacks, eyes widening in realization.

“No…” And you smile so brightly it almost makes up for what's coming his way.

You redirect your smile over his shoulder and give a wave to the door. Jason swigs down the rest of his drink, hand finding your waist once again.

“Jaybird!”

Jason’s still exhausted from patrol last night but he’d insisted on going with you to the bar to meet your friends. You’d tried to convince him that it was okay to stay in and rest tonight, you’d be fine. But it was a losing battle.

You suspect it has something to do with him not liking when you go out in Gotham at night, especially when you’re drinking.

So he hangs out in the background of the buzz, with you sat in front of him, in between his legs.

You’re talking it up with Roy, who’s been making jokes about how Jason’s “moody ass” tricked you, “the ray of sunshine” into this relationship somehow.

You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “Right, ‘cause you and Kori were in love at first sight.”

"Oh, fuck off." Roy jeers.

He doesn't say it with the cadence of a joke, but it is.

You know he's joking, he knows he's joking.

Jason, who very well may have been tuned out of the conversation up to that point, does not seem to know he's joking—or he doesn't care.

You don't need to look behind you to know that your boyfriend is in defensive mode, though the look of regret mixed with amusement on Roy's face gives a solid hint.

You hold your hand out to block Jason his path as he moves forward. He lets you stop him, though you're certain he could get past you without so much as blinking, no problem.

"Right. My bad, forgot your guard dog was here. Don't fuck off." Roy backtracks, hands up in front of him.

Jason just rolls his eyes, slouching back down. You reach behind you for his hand, giving it two squeezes. You know he’s tired, so much so that he almost punched his best friend for making a typical joke.

“Five more minutes, okay?” You say softly over your shoulder.

He nods at you blearily, and ducks his head down to rest on your back. You adjust your posture a little bit to make it more comfortable for him and continue on talking, his hand still in yours.

If he hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly, five minutes would’ve been five minutes, but instead it became something more like fifty.

He goes through patches where sleep isn’t always so welcoming, a phase he’s been in for the past couple of weeks. You’d been waking up to find the bed half empty, your boyfriend resigned to doing research on cases in an attempt to at least be productive while he’s awake.

You can’t protect him in the same ways that he protects you—you’re not a fighter or necessarily “intimidating.” But you can protect him like this, in these little ways. Letting him nap on you, making him close the case files and rest with you, holding his hand throughout the night so that when he inevitably has nightmares, he knows immediately that you’re still with him. That he’s safe.

So if he can get some much needed sleep while only costing you a stiff back tomorrow, you’ll happily take that deal as many times as he needs.

vol. II

[cinnamoodles]

smut is great but do you know what’s better? heart wrenching, soul twisting angst that makes you want to cry (take my money)

[sleepyangelkami]

smut's fun. have you ever read soul crushing, heart aching, head throbbing comfort that makes your eyes burn out of your head to the point where you just have to crawl into a ball because your inner child feels so safe? haha... yeah smuts fun.

[merletka]

pov: you give him a valentine

Hope yall are having a great St Valentine's day! 💖

[dxckgrxsonx]

mhm. thinking of you having eyes too big for your cunt.

meeting jason as a one off little hook up because you’re bored and want a decent fuck for once and him immediately warning you that he’s big. bigger than he thinks you can handle and you taking it as an immediate challenge. all cocky and adamant than you can take him, “im a big girl, hood. ill be able to fuck myself on your cock for fun.” and “just because others can’t take your dick doesn’t mean i can’t. you can’t be that fucking big.”

being forced to eat your own stupid words when he barely sinks the tip into your soft little pussy and you start fucking whining, gasping little breaths as he stretches you open. face scrunched up in a wince, teeth pressed together as your pussy tries to force him out.

jason’s voice knocking up a pitch in response, a knowing drawl making his mouth start watering. tone all mocking and condescending, “poor baby, can’t even take the tip before tapping out.” and “what happened to you? why’re you crying? i thought you said you could take me?”

sniffling and trying to control your tears as he keeps sinking more and more into your cunt, the stretch hurting so bad your legs tremble. jason cooing, kissing you so deeply it’s dizzying and leaving you half in love. all whilst telling you how good you’re being for him and holding you open by the backs of your knees so you can’t close your legs, all to watch your poor pussy weep and struggle to swallow him up.

it turns him on so bad to feel you clench so goddamn tightly around his cock he can hardly move. your voice wobbling and hitching when he pulls back only to push back forward and nudge himself that little bit deeper.

you cry and cry but you’re so wet it’s almost disgusting and jason decides there and then that he’s never letting you go.

[in-another-april]

bitches will be like “this is my comfort show” and its a show where the characters have never felt a day of comfort in their lives (its me im bitches)

[vinamari]

How it feels going to bed after reading some words

It was angst

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

*The Batfamily: hiding to try to throw a surprise party for Y/N*

Jason: *from behind a chair* Stop moving, Dickie-Bird, you’re louder than a bulldozer!

Dick: *from behind the couch* Well, sorry that Steph won’t move out of my way!

Steph: *kicking him* This is my hiding spot! Find your own!

Damian: *rolling his eyes* You imbeciles are acting like children

Tim: Everyone shut up- I think Y/N’s walking into the house!

Jason: Oh, really? Because I couldn’t hear anything over your loud ass breathing, replacement!

Dick: *whining* Why can’t anything ever be easy?

Tim: You guys are all going to ruin the surprise, shut up!

Y/N: *crouching beside Dick* Who are we waiting for?

Batfamily: *all let out high pitched screams*

[c1nnam00n]

how it feels trying to find a fanfic/imagine about a fandom that’s dead and dry

[peachesandfictionalmen]

Best friends to lovers with Jason Todd is so swoon worthy.

Like getting close to this man that hardly trusts anyone? Jason is so friends to lovers coded it's crazy.

This bitch is the type to cook you meals while you sit on the counter, doesn't matter who's apartment your in.

Finding him curled up on your couch because he was distressed after patrol and when he got there you were already asleep. Him staying anyway because your smell comforts him? I'm fucking deceased.

Falling asleep casually draped over each other while watching a movie. Him massaging the leg you have draped over his lap because he needs something to do with his hands.

This man is so awkward when it comes to crushing too. Like sure he can be smooth with the ladies, but being around someone he's in love with? Please. I swear he'd go as far as practically acting like your boyfriend. He'd be bringing you your favorite snacks, taking you on bike rides, helping you clean your apartment, going out to eat with you, all the while trying to act like he doesn't blush when you smile at him, because there's no way you'd like him back, right?

He'd be so confused if you started trying to drop hints too, like oh, your just wearing his jacket because your cold. His favorite hoodie is definitely not at your place. You just like rubbing his shoulders because you know how tight his muscles get and feel bad for him, no other reason. You only keep his favorite tea at your place because it's convenient, right?

I think you could wave a sign at this man that says 'I LOVE YOU, PLEASE KISS ME' and he'd suddenly become illiterate.

There'd be so many awkward, blushing, almost severely intimate moments too. The cuddles and brushes in the kitchen, hanging on too tight when he takes a turn on his bike, him brushing the hair out of your face, him watching as you put on makeup or are focused on something.

One day, while he's cooking and your sitting on the counter talking, you just get fed up with dropping hints and when he turns and is standing next to your spot on the counter, you just grab him. You just grasp his cheek gently and pull him in for a kiss, he's so stunned he doesn't respond right away. You pull away, half panicking, thinking you actually read him wrong and he finally blinks, cupping your cheeks in his hands and pulling you in to kiss you for real because, finally.

[kimjun]

girls are like “I want a boyfriend” but reject everyone because none of them are their comfort characters