when you first agreed to watching the fedorov family for jason, you thought the job would be simple.

doing a favour for your boyfriend, feeding the wayne family information about one of their biggest targets, while being tipped a hefty amount by this family when they come into the restaurant you work at.

they always choose you to wait on them. mainly because of your cooperation with them, your sweet words, but something more sinister too.

sure, you've seen their eyes linger on you for just a little too long sometimes. you've heard their hushed words as you walk away. it's no secret that they want a piece of you.

but that's not uncommon, especially in a place like gotham. women get leered at all the time, unfortunately.

but tonight, it was different. after taking out their drinks like usual, benedikt fedorov, second in command, in charge of communications with various other families in foreign countries, as you told jason, grabbed your hand. and to your horror, he pulled you into his lap.

the smell of strong cologne and whiskey was prominent on him, overpowering almost. you feel nauseous even thinking about it, walking up to your apartment.

they kept you there for a while. his arm was around your hip, keeping you there while he pushed in his poker chips.

“whoever wins this game gets the girl, da?” he grinned, his voice drawling with the heavy russian accent.

nikolai, closely related to the family, as you found out, grins and scanned his eyes over body. “what happened to sharing, cousin?”

the table erupted in laughter. you didn't know what was so funny.

“pretty little doves like our {{user}} deserve better than that.”

now, you enter your apartment and tug your coat off, hands trembling and eyes glossy as you take off your shoes.

“hey, angel.” jason greets you in his jersey accent, in the kitchen unpacking food from his takeout. a burger, as per usual. “how was work? find anythin' out for me?”

you shake your head, trying to find the words in your dry mouth.

“it was fine.” you lie, blinking at him harshly to will the tears away.

jason looks up from the bag, to you. “what's wrong? did somethin' happen?”

you shake your head, but sniffle. “i can't do this anymore.”

his eyes sharpen immediately, eyes scanning over you. not in the predatory way of the men, but in a concerned, vigilant way. “what do you mean? we're getting close. you can't just give up.”