All Right Decided To Make Them All.

little meow meow

I NEED more people to write for my boy Pietro maximoff!! He's just so- jkaksaklm

LOOK AT HIM!!!

hi lovie, hope ur doing well! i wanted to request some hurt to comfort with kid. jealousy trope maybe? really just let ur creative juices flow. all i ask for is angstttttt cuz i just can't get enough of it. thank u babes <3

KIDD; catching feelings for his fvckbuddy

wc: 3882

warning/s: semi-nsfw 🔞, p in v is heavily mentioned but no occurrence of the actual thing, fem reader, hurt to comfort, kidd being an emotionally constipated asshat

note: inspired by the famous scene of fellow travelers, i have no knowledge of the show i just saw it on IG and got an idea for this request c: click for the -> scene

"i should probably go." you mumbled to kidd, tearing your bare frame away from his embrace. you sat at the edge of the bed to hurriedly gather your clothes and slide them back on your body.

kidd sat up, the satin comforter falling off his chiseled torso down to his lower half. "it's the middle of the goddamn night, nobody will fuckin' know." he rustled his hair, irritated at your inclination to always rush out of his quarters.

"all the more reason to leave, right?" you smiled a little. "good night, captain." you gave your garments one final pat down before waving goodbye at him and shutting the door.

the quiet sound of the waves and the subtle rocking of the ship mirrored the mundane void you left in your wake. but you two agreed to have it that way, no feelings attached. act as usual as you two could be. even after spending the night skin to skin against each other while sharing empty kisses and hickeys.

having the same needs and desire for each other, it began on a night where liquor loosened both of your restraints and the pooling warmth and lust it brought was enough for kidd to bring you to his quarters. until it became a regular thing. one look from across the hall, between the members that composed of the kidd pirates, you two would easily excuse yourself to a covert corridor so you could sneak in a quickie.

even with the presence of clothes, the scorching heat of the sun, the dampness of the rain, and the possibility of crew members catching you two; it never mattered to the both of you so long as you two satiated each other.

kidd would shamelessly pull you away just so he could feel your warmth around his length, shoving and fucking you deep by the walls of his ship. consequently, you would instigate a quickie by sitting close to him, rubbing thighs and touching knees. sometimes discreetly sitting on his lap for a moment while flashing him your undies or cleavage as you move closer.

it went on for a while. when a few weeks passed, the crew already knew that you two were kicking it off. you two could be heard during the night and they mostly see you exiting his quarters in the middle of the night and waking up some of the ladies at the dorms when you sneak back in late. but they had all agreed to act oblivous, out of fear and respect for the both of you.

moreover, you and kidd vehemently agreed to keep it a secret. the first time you two did it, you two kind of freaked out. wondering how the crew would take it and the image of reputation of kidd and you.

but you were mostly the first one to always leave. on your end, you weren't embarrased or anything. you just respect kidd so much, you'd rather not get caught whoring for him. you also don't want to catch feelings that could ruin whatever's going on with the two of you. you admire him that much.

even though you already did catch feelings, you just don't realize it. caring too much about what he thinks is already enough. that's why you always left, to flush it all down. because kidd would never catch feelings, right? he just wants sex with you that's it.

little did you know, your aversion started to bother kidd after some time. it never occurred to you because he was never really in touch with his emotions with you. he just fucked you and that's it. and it's all it ever meant to you, he always thought to himself. sure there's admiration and respect, but that's given enough that you're under his charge.

but it did made him quite worried when it happens frequently. kidd wasn't one to overthink, nor be self-conscious. but when you always hurriedly leave like that, acting like he kicked you out or something, he starts to think if you didn't enjoy it. even though he has a clear image of you reaching your climax a few minutes ago.

it started with that. then it extended into his concern as he gradually started caring what you think for some reason. it usually started during sex; whether you enjoyed the act or if you slept nicely. then it extended to the little things on the daily; if he made you laugh, where you usually are, if you're eating well, has he done something harsh, and whatnot. it makes him wonder why you leave so fast so often, if he was doing a perfect job of satisfying you.

kidd was interested in you. you were one a of a kind. someone so rare that he was lucky enough to stumble upon. a gem that piqued his interest. it's one of the main reasons why he instigated on having a fuck buddy relationship.

he liked how you measure up to him despite your size difference, how brave you look in the battlefield, he adored how you smiled along with how your eyes shine, how he loves hearing you laugh, how you fit in his arms after the deed, how he never ran out of things to talk with you, how you listen to him ramble as he either brags about his achievements or his nerdy obssession with tinkering.

he truly noticed how beautiful you are when he's in you, when he takes in the full glory of you as you were bare under him. when he thinks about these stuff; it's making him daydream and spiral deeper into you. he hated it.

he hated how it made him think how much of a fool he was. it was just about the sex. that's why you leave immediately, he deduced. he thought that maybe, you were scared or ashamed of what you two are having.

so what's the fucking point of continuing if he started catching feelings? the past kidd wouldn't care about shit like this. and it irritated him how much he cares about it now.

that's why the next day, when you tried to insinuate a quickie, he brushed you off. and he never brushes you off. so you knew something was up.

"woke up on the wrong side of the bed, captain? the hell?" you snarked when he tsked as you sat close to him and rubbed your chest on his arm. he'd usually put an arm around you discreetly but this time, he just rolled his eyes.

"i'm tired." he growled, scooting away from you a little to reach a can of beer by the table.

"hmm, need a massage? we can do a quick one, crew seems busy." you said in an inviting tone, shifting closer as you rubbed on his arm.

"just...fuckin' do whatever you need to. quit bein' all over me for a bit, alright?" he asked in an exasperated tone, standing up and stomping towards his quarters. not even sparing you a glance.

that was your last conversation for the day and you didn't come to his quarters that night. you decided to let him be, you thought that maybe he's conflicted with something and decided to leave him alone.

until days passed and he was still acting different. he wasn't looking your way anymore. he sat at the other end of the table during meals, neither near or facing you. you don't catch him looking behind to check on you. although he still talks to you, he became cold. he answers short sentences and dismisses it. he always ignored and brushed off your advances. and it was starting to hurt.

so during the night, you visited him on his quarters.

"i didn't say anyone could come in-" he was angry while responding until he caught sight of you.

"did i do something wrong, kidd? it's been several days and... you've been distant." you rubbed your shoulders in apprehension, desperately finding meaning in his eyes curtained by scrunched up brows.

"you're fine. it's late, you should get some rest." he dismissed immediately, turning his back on you.

"what about you? are you stressed? you're doing okay lately?" you inquired, walking closer in hopes of instilling something cordial.

"quit worryin' about me." he snarked, back still turned on you.

you sighed. and tried one more time. you sat at the edge of the bed next to him. he exhaled heavily feeling the mattress sink at your presence.

"kidd, talk to me." you expected, looking up at him. growing anxious at his decline.

"just go, name. i'm tired and i need some damn rest. why are you even so persistent about something so fuckin' trivial? why does it concern you, huh? do you want to fuck so bad? fine! get fuckin' naked, jesus christ." he stood up on his feet as his voice gradually increased volume.

that's when your vision narrowed, your cheeks burned, and your eyes stung. "n-no, sorry. i-i'm gonna go." you swallowed, leaving his room at once.

"that's all you ever do, you just fuckin' go, aye? can i blame you, though? feelings aren't supposed to come into question. we're just fuckin', damn it." kidd silently told himself, sitting back down as he ran fingers through his hair. "i just really have to start catching feelings, huh? what a goddamn idiot." he plopped himself to the bed, spreading into a starfish position as he closed his eyes.

so you ran away from his room, away from the victoria. you sat by the port far from where the ship was docked, where you were met with seagulls playing by the sea. you needed a new breather.

but kidd was at war with his head. he surprisingly felt bad. and he was itchy in his position; he wanted to move, to stand up and run after you and tell you how he feels. but with his hulking pride? it won't be so easy.

more days passed after your encounter and you two were distant with each other. killer and the others noticed it but didn't bother prying. they know they're on thin ice if they so much as ask about your situation with kidd.

what would pull kidd's head out of his ass was when he saw you out the pub, getting overly friendly with other men. in your defense, you were sitting by the sofa alone and they came to join you.

he, killer, heat, and wire were sitting by the barstools a few tables ahead of you. kidd was constantly looking over his shoulder and saw you enjoying yourself. the sight of you with other men rubbed him the wrong way. it prompted him to drink more than he usually does.

"hey boss, you okay? you seem... paranoid?" wire started, looking around to see what was wrong.

"shut up." kidd replied in a heartbeat, chugging his rum as he tore his eyes off the freak show that is you with other men.

but you don't catch kidd's eyes so you didn't realize something was wrong with him. why would it even bother him anyway?

until kidd got super drunk after stuffing himself with rum and roasted meat. he heard the men laughing a little too loud along with yours. he couldn't take it anymore.

and all in a blink of an eye, a fight broke out in the pub.

kidd started it with the man who sat next to you, rubbing a little too close and too often at you. he grabbed his collar and punched him flat on the ground. the other men tried retaliating but killer, heat, and wire were already taking care of them. they had no choice, their captain started it.

you sat there in absolute shock with a hand over your mouth which soon traveled onto pinching your temples.

"hey! guys, fucking stop it! will you please fucking leave it?! the pub owner already called the stationed marines!" you physically got in between all of them, tearing away your crew mates from the knocked out men. poor men who got innocently involved in your captain's fury.

"leave it, kidd! for fuck's sake, just listen to me for fucking once!" you tugged on kidd's arm, which was threatening to land a feral punch on the knocked out bloody man lying on the ground.

he let go and let you drag him out the pub. you all ran in a secluded alley, somewhere far from the pub.

"what the fuck was that?! can someone tell me what the fuck happened?! were the guys jeering at y'all or some shit?!"

"we just backed up, boss." heat shrugged, wiping off blood from his busted lip. so your gaze landed on kidd, who got off with bloody knuckles and a bruise on the cheek.

"they were all over you, you think nothing's wrong with that?!" he pointed over to the pub, adamant on his cause.

"am i not allowed to socialize with other people now?! they were accompanying me because i sat alone! i sat fucking alone! they were not all over me. as a matter of fact, they helped changed my mood. is it so wrong to have fun with them?!"

"and you couldn't even be bothered if they were takin' advantage of you? tryna bed you or some fuckin' shit." kidd crossed his arms, avoiding your gaze.

"and what if i do agree, huh? what if i want to sleep with them? how is that any of your fucking problem? when you won't even bother looking my damn way these past few days. does it concern you who i fucking sleep with?" you shouted with blood rushing to your face, your heart was beating so fast and your head was pounding. your eyes were stinging with the precarious tears coming your way.

"yes! it fuckin' does, name!" he answered almost immediately, his eyes teary and bloodshot.

"because i wanna be with you! i want to sleep in the same bed all night with you! not see you kick yourself out each night we do it just because you don't want them seeing you leave my quarters. like it fuckin' matters! i'm the captain of my own damn ship! who the hell cares if you leave my quarters by morning, aye?!" he wiped off the falling tears and sniffed as his nose got stuffy. "i want us to go on goddamn dates, take you out to eat on fucking restaurants, buy you shit you like. i want to know what goes on in your mind. if you feel the same way or i'm just fuckin' kiddin' myself." he laughed bitterly. "i want to spend more time with you, get to know you other than the times you got naked in front of me."

right there, killer and the others almost lost air. wire even coughed up a little blood stuck on his throat. they all excused themselves silently and left you two be.

"but who am i kiddin'? we're in this shit for the fuck, aye? sure enough, why the hell would you settle for a brute like me?! a foul, vicious, selfish, and prideful jerk like me? i sure as fuckin' hell wouldn't." he sat by the asphalt in defeat, running his hand through his locks. ashamed of himself really. confessing shit like that even though he thought you'd fold first. he thinks of himself as a joke.

but you, you were stunned. you didn't even know you were crying. all you could do was kneel before him and pull him in a hug.

kidd's eyes widened and he stiffened up. you really smelled nice, you felt warm. it was all that ran through his head. his embarrassment from his confession was now long gone. you somehow corrupted his thoughts yet again.

"for the record, i had the biggest crush on you." you said to him and he pulled away so he could see your face if you're screwing with him. "really. one of the reasons, if not all, why i joined."

kidd immediately flushed red. he looked away to avoid your gaze.

"this all happened because your dumbass couldn't talk about your feelings." you gave him a flick on the forehead. "so, what if we have that 'date' you wanna have and sort this all out?" you placed your hand on his jaw, fingers spreading across the sides of his cheeks to cup his face. "it's not fair that you're the only one who gets to confess."

"you can stop being cheeky now, it's annoying."

"hm? but your red cheeks says otherwise."

you soon took him back to the ship, you told him to wait by his quarters since you'll fetch the ice pack. when you came back the room was empty, you looked around only to see his bathroom door ajar with a little amount of steam escaping.

you tsked to yourself, sighing as you waited on the edge of the bed. when he finally emerged from the bathroom, you were ready to berate him. only to see him fully naked, without so much as a towel hanging around his hips.

"w-why the fuck are you-"

"hm? ain't the first time you see me naked. why bother coverin' up?" he crossed his arms, smirking. he clearly knows what he's doing. now he's all haughty. has he cleared his head in the bath? or did the evident blush on your cheeks rubbed his ego?

"i told you to wait here and i'll get you an ice pack, you look like a fucked up fruit." you placed your hands on your hips, fighting the urge to look down.

yet all he did was march closer to you but you kept your front steady, maintaing eye contact. and he was quiet and smug. he fetched a towel on the way to wrap around his hips and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"honestly, when will you listen?" you sighed placing the clothed ice pack up to his cheek. he placed his hand over yours, goosebumps spreading across your skin with his touch.

"i got it." he said sparing you a cheeky glance, you yanked your hand away in return.

"why'd you take a bath? you wanna rile me up, huh? by not listening to me?" you crossed your arms.

"i just felt fuckin' dirty and i'm all bloody, do you give a fuck now if i shower or not?"

this is pretty much how your normal conversation goes. you snark at him, kidd snarks back even harsher. that's why talking seriously wasn't in your bucketlist with him. he has an insufferable temper and you don't plan on submitting to his anger. really now, one of the things you have in common is being stubborn.

"it's just that... we're going out later in the day and... i don't want to go around smelling like absolute dogshit when i'm around you."

"ah you don't, huh?" you took in his flustered state, scowling face with red ears and pressed lips. avoiding your gaze firmly. "well, i guess i'd better get ready myself. gotta doll myself up too. keep that ice pack on your cheek, okay? don't make me tape that shit."

you saw yourself out, fighting your smile as you exited the door. kidd lied down flat on his bed, clutching his chest as he bathed in the foreign feeling of love beating in his chest. while you ran towards the ladies' dorm in full speed just to scream in your pillow in excitement.

the night went on with you two enjoying yourself at a diner. telling each other how crazy you felt for each other. it later turned into stupid things like how he broke the spoon or how you keep on downing a glass of wine (it's cuz you were nervous).

you and kidd decided to spend the night in a motel, to have the time and space to yourselves. because you two are going to be making your way to your room kissing like rabbits in heat.

kidd would have you in his hands, carrying you by your bum while you wrap your arms around his neck for support while you tug on his locks. he would slam you against the door while you turn the knob open.

once inside, he'd be keen on taking your clothes off first. discarding them on the floor while you get busy on taking off his goggles, fur coat, and shirt. but there was no hurry, he walked slowly you could take your time.

kidd would sit by the edge of the bed while his lips were still connected to you, sucking aggressively as if it's his last. his hand grabbing your bum and kneading it with much fervor. his lipstick stains would mark your cheeks and neck, an obvious obssession with those parts of you.

surprisingly enough, you two spent the past hours entangled in each other's limbs. you were lying down on his torso while he had his arm secured around you, pinching your skin playfully or just tracing circles across the surface. his mechanical arm already discarded. both of your clothes scattered across the wooden floors. it was just your bare body against his.

there was something different about the way he kisses you now, his lips lingered more rather than the usual hungry kisses that pried your mouth open. his touch was gentle as opposed to the usually firmly vulgar grip he has on you just so he could force his length in you and fuck you stupid. his moans in your lips were heard and warm, as if he wasn't trying to usually stifle it.

he tuck strands of hair behind your ear while he returns your kisses, his hand soon settled on the back of your head protectively. your one hand was combing deep through his voluminous, red locks while the other cups his face. it was such a foreign sight, where you two weren't in a hurry. not too impatient in taking your clothes off, reaching your climax, or leaving first thing after fucking. it was like the restraints were off, the weight you two were bearing was now off your shoulders, and all the time in the world stopped for both of you.

"now, how does that feel?" kidd broke out, pulling away from your kisses but his voice was raspy and low. almost a whisper. "how does it feel to not rush and take your time? good, aye?" he nuzzled his nose on your neck, flesh hand angling your head upward from his grip on the juncture of your nape and head.

"since when did you care about that? being romantic and all." you giggled a little as his breath came into contact with your skin.

"since you started becomin' the bane of my existence." he pressed wet kisses on your jaw upto your cheek, and now he's finally eye to eye with you.

"oh shut up, you love me."

"aye, unfortunately."

AAAAAA 🥹

thank you so much for the request anon! i hope this somehow aligned with your expectations :DDD this request was so perfect for this trope 🥰 it was fate that the reel came across my feed LMAOAAHSJHSHSHS

i did a different approach to this, i made kidd be the one to say the line when i initially thought it should be reader. i just love the flavor of him being totally crazy with reader he'd wax poetic a confession 🫶🥺 love this tsuntsun so much 🤣

A smooch for Snooj

I had an idea.

How do you like your Batblob?

I'm a personal fan of the creature

Please Come Home

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You never realized how many places there were to hide in your apartment, but you’re pretty sure someone else is in here with you. Whatever they want isn’t good.

Word count: 3.3k

TW: home invasion, violence, curses as insults

Your spare key is missing.

Fuck. You always keep it in this drawer. Where the fuck is it?

When you told Jason he could just grab your keys to take your car instead of his bike to the store, you’d been relying on using your spare to lock up the apartment when you left for work. You never, ever moved it, but it was gone all the same. Did he take it instead of your keychain? Nope, that’s missing from its hook next to the front door.

When was the last time you used it? Not too long ago. Had you been careless about putting it back?

You text Jason, Did you grab my spare key?

Shit. You had to leave for work, like, five minutes ago, and you have no key to lock the front door.

At least you have a fire escape. You bolt the door from the inside, then slip out the window. You can’t latch it from the outside, but it’s a little harder to break in through the window than the front door.

You’re only two minutes late to your waitressing shift. Your manager swipes you in, lets you know that a server called out so you’ll be handling two sections today, and the host runs up to tell you that you’ve already been sat.

In the middle of the shift, when you have a minute to catch your breath, you check your phone. Jason had texted, No, I took your keychain. Is your spare missing?

I think I lost it.

I’ll look for it when I come home before patrol. Will I see you before heading out?

Not looking like it. Things haven’t slowed down at all.

I’ll see you when I get home, then. Don’t wait up.

I’ll have dinner in the fridge when you get back. Gotta get back to work. Love you

I love you, too.

A couple hours later, Jason texts that he has no luck locating your spare. Since he’s paranoid, he’s going out for a new lock tomorrow, but there’s important business with a drug ring that he can’t miss tonight.

That’s okay. It’ll be a pain to climb up the fire escape, but you don’t really mind that much. You’ve been meaning to get more exercise, anyway.

You finish work at six and the walk back to your apartment building is pretty peaceful. Unusual for Gotham.

It lulls you into a false sense of security.

You’re not really in the mood for leftovers, and not really in the mood to cook. You stare between your phone and the pantry. Takeout is easy. So is pasta.

With a sigh, you decide to spare your bank account. Delivery fees are getting ridiculous nowadays.

You text Jason just to see how his night is going. You’re not sure he’ll respond; sometimes, like during stakeouts, he turns his phone off completely so the sound or vibrate doesn’t reveal his presence. He doesn’t respond after a minute, which means he’s busy. You sigh and set down your phone, then change into comfier clothes. As soon as you’re out of your room, you grab a pot and box of pasta. You can’t sit down, or you’ll put off dinner for at least another hour.

The water is set to boil when you turn around to look at your phone, vaguely hoping Jason has responded by now.

Your phone isn’t on the counter.

You frown. You’re pretty sure you left it there.

Maybe it’s in the pantry when you grabbed the pasta?

It’s not.

You must have left it in your room when you changed. You check, and it’s sitting right on your bedside table. “Jeez,” you mutter, picking it up and slipping it into your pocket. After a long day, it’s okay to be scatterbrained, but this is a bit much.

Still no response from Jason.

You walk out of the bedroom to see that the stove turned itself off and the pasta water is barely warm. “Gotham appliances are such pieces of shit,” you mutter. You know what, fine. A shower and feeling clean will make you feel better to try again. The saying is that a watched pot never boils, but hopefully a watched Gotham stove never turns itself on and off randomly while you cook.

The apartment’s a bit chilly, so you take your pajamas with you into the bathroom and sit under the water spray until all the grime of the day washes away. It’s a bad habit, but you bring your phone with you in the shower to scroll through social media until your skin starts to get pruny. You step out, wrapping the towel around yourself in a vain attempt to stop shivering, and… your pajamas are gone.

The pajamas that you’re sure you took with you. You distinctly remember putting them on the sink counter.

And now they’re gone.

Something clenches in your stomach. You text Jason, Hey are you home yet?

He doesn’t respond right away.

Jay, this isn’t funny.

Still nothing.

Is it possible you forgot to bring the clothes with you? No, you distinctly remember the thought process.

Someone moved them, and you can’t think of s single reason anyone you know would do that. That kind of prank isn’t funny.

You text Jason, I think there is someone in the house with me. Then you try calling him.

You go straight to voicemail.

You bite your lip, trying hard not to panic. Jason never sends you to voicemail. He’s answered your calls in the middle of shootouts, voice strained, “Hey, kinda busy right now, is it an emergency?”

His phone is turned off, so who knows when he’ll see your texts. He might not turn it on again for hours.

You text your best friend, I think someone broke into my house. Don’t call me. Please help.

You chew on your thumbnail.

Either she calls the cops, or she shows up with a baseball bat and her scary-ass motorcycle dude boyfriend. He’s secretly a softie, but his appearance doesn’t match his personality.

He’s a lot like Jason, actually. Who would have thought you two had the same type?

You call Jason again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

Your best friend texts, Omw. That’s it, but it’s the best text you’ve ever seen in your life.

Okay. Either cower in the bathroom until someone shows up, or play along with the same game the possibly-real-intruder is playing, that everything is normal.

No matter what happens next, you want to be dressed for it. You peek under the door, but you don’t see anyone’s feet.

Maybe this is all in your head, but you have a terrible gut feeling that it isn’t.

Your heart pounds, but you maintain a leisurely stroll into your room through the kitchen, palming a knife as you go, and locking the door behind you. The intruder may be in your closet, so you hold the knife out as you swing the door open.

Empty.

You throw on the first clothes you see and debate hiding in your room until your friend arrives. But adrenaline is pumping and you think you might shake out of your skin. You sit on the edge of the bed and take deep breaths.

There’s a window in your room, but it only opens three inches and it’s not connected to the fire escape, so that’s not an option. The window that leads to the fire escape is in the main room, so you’d have to walk through the kitchen to get to it, and the intruder may be hiding in the pantry.

You could try the front door, but the storage closet is right next to it: another likely place for someone to hide and jump out at you.

Your room is only as safe as the strength of the door. And the wood is pretty thin.

All of a sudden, your phone buzzes, and you drop it. You snatch it up to see an incoming call lighting up the screen with your boyfriend’s handsome contact photo.

You accept the call immediately. “Jay?”

“I’m on my way,” he rushes out. You hear the roar of his motorcycle in the background. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You whisper, “I think someone is here.”

“I know.” His voice is strained. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. I’m five minutes away. Can you get out?”

“I don’t know. I’m in my bedroom, I locked my door. I think he’s hiding somewhere in the apart—”

A hand shoots out from under the bed and grabs your ankle.

You scream.

Your phone flies away when he yanks you off the bed. You go down swinging with the knife and make contact, accidentally swiping your own ankle in the process. The man grunts with pain and lets go, and you scramble to the door. You don’t even feel the pain in your ankle, although you’re actually bleeding a lot.

He’s wriggling out from under your bed when you get to your feet and twist the doorknob. “Get the fuck out of my house, you fucking pervert!” you scream. You yank the door open and run…

Right into a stranger’s chest.

There are two of them?

An iron grip clamps over your shoulder. His other hand fists in your hair. “Well, hello, pretty. You’re not the Red Hood.”

You stab him in the stomach.

Unfortunately, that only makes him mad.

“You bitch,” he groans. The slap is so powerful it nearly breaks your neck. You can’t breathe for a second, and then the first man catches up to you. His hand is bleeding. Like, a lot. They transfer you over so the stabbed man can groan about being stabbed. It’s only in his gut, so he should be fine. “Walk it off,” you goad. It’s the Gotham in you.

The first man digs his bloody knuckles into your cheek. “Fucking whore cut me,” he says. “Where’s the Red Hood?”

“He’ll kill you both,” you spit. “He’s on his way to shoot you in the head.” The threat should have scared them, but they were dumb enough to break into the Red Hood’s apartment and beat his partner. They had not been blessed with many braincells.

“Good,” he says. “He’ll get here just in time to see his pretty pet die.”

Someone pounds on the door and everyone freezes. Fear flashes over their face, but Jason wouldn’t have knocked. He would have kicked the door down or gone through the window.

Your best friend calls your name through the door. She’s trying to sound casual, but things are so far past casual.

The man holding you sees you draw in a breath to scream. “Don’t you dare,” he warns. “Do it and I’ll kill them, too.” The barrel of a gun presses to the side of your head.

Where is Jason?

You don’t think he’ll get here in time. He doesn’t deserve to carry the weight of that failure, but he will. Your Jay thinks he’s responsible for every bad thing in the world.

The man’s ugly face explodes.

You register the concussive sound of gunfire half a second later. Your ears ring. You lose your balance.

More gunfire. It’s so loud all you can do is cover your ears. Who’s shooting who?

It stops as suddenly as it started, but you don’t look up. You can’t hear anything. You don’t want to see their ugly faces anymore.

Then hands grab you again, and you shriek. Your kitchen knife is still buried in the second man’s gut, so you have no defense. A man with a gun is going to kill you in your apartment.

Despite all your attempts at fighting, he’s too strong. Iron hands pry your hands away from your head, but you still can’t hear anything. Your ears are still ringing too loud. Your eardrums might have burst.

Then gloved hands cup your cheeks.

You know those gloves.

Jason is kneeling on the ground in front of you, absolutely frantic. His mouth moves, but you don’t hear anything. You don’t even hear your sob, but you definitely feel it right before you throw yourself at him.

Strong arms wrap around your back. Jason cradles you, hugs you so tight you can’t breathe, tries to hide you from anyone that might hear you. You still can’t make out his words, but you’re beginning to hear a muffled voice.

You’re sitting completely in his lap, his legs behind you to support your back. You cling to him, trying not to shake. You’re a pretty unflappable Gothamite, but a home invasion is enough to rattle anyone. You’re supposed to be safe here.

Jason pulls away just enough to kiss your forehead. His green eyes squeeze tight like he’s in pain, and a single tear slips from the corner of one.

You wipe it away.

Jason wipes the blood on your cheek away.

You read his lips when he asks if you’re okay. You nod. You’re alive, and that’s what matters.

Jason holds you still when you try to look around. He says something that you can’t read. He must know that you don’t understand, because he just uses one huge hand on the back of your head to pull you forward. His mouth presses against your forehead, not quite a kiss, just relishing the connection.

You hear the banging first. Then you hear the shouting.

Oh, God. Your best friend.

You scramble out of Jason’s hold so fast he can’t stop you. You stumble past two dead bodies, both with three bullets in their heads. The floor is ruined beyond belief.

Jason helps support you. He needs to touch you somewhere to reassure himself that you’re okay, that you’re alive. You unlock the door, and barely open it a crack before your friend pushes it all the way open.

She gasps at the sight of you. “Oh, my God!” Her arms wrap tight around your neck, and you squeeze her. Jason’s hand remains pressed against your back. Her boyfriend stands behind her in the hallway, and he eyes Jason somewhat suspiciously. The two have never met before.

Your best friend pulls away, and Jason folds you against his side. His hand runs up and down your arm.

“Are you okay? There’s blood all over you.” Her eyes drift past your face and land on the bodies on your floor. Her mouth tightens, but she doesn't scream or call the cops immediately.

“It’s not mine,” you say faintly. “Well…” You look at your ankle. “Most of it.”

“Jesus,” says Jason. “They did that to you?”

"I did it to myself," you admit. "But I stabbed that one." You point.

He kisses the top of your head. "I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself. I never should have left you alone." Jason fixes your friend with a look so stern that she actually gulps. "Can you watch them for a little bit?"

"Yeah," she says. "I'll take care of them."

"Good." Jason takes your face in his hands. His eyes blaze. "I'll be back as soon as I can. You hear me? You're not gonna be alone ever again."

You nod numbly.

Jason carries you to the couch, then coaches your friend through applying pressure to your ankle. He gently places an icepack in your hand, then moves you until it's pressed to your numb cheek. Then he kisses you. Pulls back. Kisses you again. It's not sweet—he tastes like blood, or maybe you do—but it's firm, and it's real, and it's a promise.

He stands up and asks your friend's boyfriend, "You wanna help me with these?"

As far as you know, the other man's never hidden a dead body in his life. But to his credit, he hardly hesitates before nodding.

Jason's already calling someone when he walks out. One of his criminal contacts, you're sure. You don't know and you don't want to know.

They're gone for twenty minutes. You're still in shock when they get back. You know you're in shock, but you can't snap out of it. You don't think you want to.

He gently nudges your friend's hands away to peek under the gauze. "You want stitches for this, honey?"

You shake your head. The cut's too close to bone, and you don't want a needle going anywhere near your bones.

"Okay." He changes the gauze, then tapes it in place, then puts a sticky wrap over that. "I'll change this in the morning. You're gonna be okay."

"I'm glad you're all right," your friend's boyfriend offers. You don't know each other all that well, but he just helped hide two bodies that you and Jason killed, so he must be an all right dude. You nod, give him a shaky smile, try to wave.

Your best friend bends over to hug you. "I'm going to text you in the morning," she says. "You'll be okay with Jason. I'm so proud of you. I'm so glad you're okay."

You hug her back until she puts the icepack back in the freezer.

When they leave, Jason stands up from the couch. You make a pleading, confused noise in the back of your throat, and he smooths your hair away from your face. "I'll be right back, honey," he promises. "I'm gonna lock the door. No one's ever getting to you again, you hear me?"

As soon as he pulls away, you shiver. The only thing keeping you warm was his body.

True to his word, he locks the front door, then heads right back to you.

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?" Jason asks softly.

You shake your head. There was a man hiding beneath your bed tonight. It was worse than any monster you used to be scared of as a child.

"Okay," he says softly. Jason eases onto the couch, but he has so much bulk that it's impossible to lay side-by-side on your backs. Jason twists onto his side, and after a moment, you do too, using one of his massive biceps as a pillow. He smells like gunpowder. You smell like blood. You fit together like two terrible, violent puzzle pieces.

He kisses your forehead again. Pulls a blanket over the two of you, makes sure it's snug around your feet. You enjoy the fussing.

When he has nothing left to fiddle with, Jason sucks in a ragged inhale, then says, voice cracking, "When I saw those texts, I was terrified."

"I'm glad you checked your phone," you say. "For a while, I thought you wouldn't."

"I could feel that something was wrong."

Your throat hurts. "Did you mess up your mission tonight because of me?"

"Honey, I would do anything for you," he says. "I'd abandon a thousand missions to keep you safe. I'd burn this city to the ground."

Another night, you would remind him that he's a hero. That he fights for the greater good. That he is good.

Tonight, you take comfort in the vow.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispers. "You were so brave. You did so well."

Your fingers twist in his shirt. Your nose nestles into the hollow at the base of his throat perfectly, so you hear every breath he takes, every rumble in his throat when he talks. You press a kiss to his chest just above the neckline of his shirt, and his throat jumps.

Jason makes a strangled noise, then wraps his arms even tighter around you. He throws one leg over your hip, completely covering you, pressing you into the couch. You would feel suffocated if it was anyone else.

You fall asleep faster than you ever have before, secure that Jason won't let anything happen to you during the night. The last thing you register before unconsciousness is his dry lips pressed to your forehead again. Making sure you're alive. Reassuring you that he's here and always will be.

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