retro-ivy

[retro-ivy]

IF I WAS A RICH GIRL PT.3 ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: the events of last night leave an ugly mark on your relationship with jason that also bleeds over into your time with dick. will the three of you find a way to make things work? or will some other security firm have to take on your case?

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, angst, double penetration (p in v + anal), fingering, car sex, edging, hints of exhibitionism, light brat taming, arguments, mommy + daddy issues

wc: 19.3k (good heavens)

a/n: the rock (me) has finally come back to tumblr dot com. i hope you guys like this chapter!! it's dramatic as fuck, but isn't that the fun of fanfic. and thank you for all the love on this story!! i'll have the next one out soon-ish. peace and love, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

part 1 | part 2

When your eyes finally opened again, you found yourself alone in bed.

The room was bright now, and the TV had been turned off. It was quiet, no soft breaths coming from either side of you, no hushed voices chattering back and forth above your head.

You sat up slowly. Judging by the intensity of the sunlight outside, it was a little later in the morning than you’d usually wake up. That explained why your bedroom was vacant spare yourself.

Your hand came up to rub the sleep from your eyes. Flashes from a few hours ago flooded your mind. Jason’s hands around your throat. Dick’s quiet retelling of the past. The harsh words exchanged on the balcony through the biting winter air.

How had everything shifted so much in such a short span of time?

You dragged yourself from the comforts of your pillows and blankets and stumbled into the ensuite bathroom. Your movements came slower, less motivated, like your body was weighed down with the pain from the night before. It was weird. As you moved, you felt this weight in your chest. Some lighter form of mourning. One that came laced with a substantial dose of anxiety. You tried not to dwell on it while brushing your teeth.

It just didn’t make sense to you. How could someone that’d only been in your life for such a short amount of time leave you feeling so out of sorts? A month ago, you didn’t know Jason or Dick existed. You’d lived for years and years without them. Even having them around now, it wasn’t anything serious. It wasn’t as though they were your boyfriends. They were just supposed to be for fun. And like with all your other objects of entertainment; when you tired of them, you should be able to start looking for the next. Never before had you been this unsettled by the possibility of losing one — or technically two.

Though, it probably wasn’t fair to think about the whole issue as if it was a collective one. Dick hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he’d made all the right decisions. He told you not to go down there, to just leave Jason to his own devices for the night. You just thought you knew better.

As soon as you’d spit in the sink for the final time, back to your bedroom you went. Your luxurious pajamas landed in the nearby hamper in exchange for a soft pair of sweats and an oversized shirt from your dresser. You weren’t going anywhere today. There was no reason to dress up. Normally, you’d try a little more for something cute, but with the mood you were in right now, flipping through random pieces of clothing to find something pretty and comfortable was the last thing you wanted to do.

With a huff, you exited your room and headed across the lofted walkway to the stairs. You could hear their voices coming from downstairs. They were muffled, hushed under the assumption you could wake and enter the room at any time.

You padded down the staircase. As soon as you stepped into the living room, you saw them in the kitchen at the counter. Dick was on one side, eyes laced with concern and his lips in a straight, displeased line. Jason stood on the other. His head hung down towards the marble.

Neither of them saw you right away.

For a few seconds, you considered going back upstairs. You weren’t really in the mood for talking things out or forgiveness of any kind. But Jason wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your bodyguard, and you were gonna have to be around him at some point or another unless he asked for a reassignment. You figured it would be best to just get it out of the way now, to avoid letting the tension mount into anything more.

So you headed further into the room. You dragged your feet a little, trying to make some noise that would alert them to the fact that you were there. The small scuffles didn’t pull them out of their conversation with each other though.

It wasn’t until you were a few paces behind Dick that Jason caught sight of you. Like an ashamed dog, his eyes lowered towards the countertop he was leaning against. His usual demeanor had seemingly vanished. It was weird. You didn’t know what you’d anticipated from him, but it wasn’t this.

Jason shying away clued Dick in to your presence. He turned around, and to your relief, he seemed the same as normal. His soft eyes and faint smile beckoned you closer despite the awkwardness from the guy standing a few feet from him.

You tentatively walked the rest of the way to them. Even though he tried being subtle, you noticed how his eyes fell to the base of your throat, clearly trying to see how visible the marks from Jason’s fingers had turned out to be.

If today was any of those that came before, you probably would have been all over him and then bound around the island to give Jason the same treatment. Arms would have snuck around waists, and your face would have squished against either of their chests. Maybe if you were lucky (which, with them, you always were) they’d be kind enough to part your legs and start your day off extra nice.

But today, your palms stayed flat on the cold countertop. Your feet remained planted on the ground below you. You didn’t say anything, not a joke to break the ice or an accusation to bring the conflict to a boiling point. Just nothing. Absolute silence permeated the kitchen, and you found your eyes mimicking Jason’s gaze at the sleek marble.

The invisible wall of ice that had formed around you was broken by Dick’s hand landing between your shoulder blades.

“There she is,” he said, ever the mediator. “You sleep ok?”

“Yeah,” you answered. Your voice came out quiet. Maybe the quietest you’d been over the course of their stay.

You could tell he was trying to take some of the weight from the two of you, but everything still felt so overwhelming. 

His hand started to move in tight circles on your back, easing some of the tension in your shoulders. But when one part of you calmed down, it seemed like your anxiety just targeted somewhere else. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you tried to will your eyes to look at Jason. It shouldn’t be that hard… It was just an argument. Not the end of the world. Your body couldn’t seem to accept that though.

“How are you feeling?” Dick asked next. His hand slipped around to your front, boosting your chin to give him a clear look at your neck.

“I’m ok,” you said and shrugged. 

You took a step back from him and shuffled over to the fridge. Normally, you ate up attention like that. Milking injuries had become almost a natural talent for you at this point in your life. You’d picked it up at eight years old when you sprained your ankle during a tennis lesson. You continued with it at fourteen when your driver got into a car accident on the way home from school that left you with a fractured wrist. And you’d stuck with it at eighteen when you’d tripped while walking into one of your father’s campaign events.

One of the only times your father felt a need to take your side was when he believed someone or something else had harmed his daughter. Playing up how victimized you felt never failed to get you attention. It just didn’t feel right in this case.

If anything, for the first time in your life, you didn’t feel that desperate need to be noticed. You’d much rather shrivel up and seep into the crevices between the floorboards. Any attention to the small markings circling your neck just brought you shame, and more so, they made you worry about Jason. If you felt embarrassed and guilty, you could only imagine how he was doing.

It was kind of odd. You couldn’t remember feeling so subdued about something like this ever before. You’d been allowed to quit tennis over your ankle. You’d cried and cried for weeks about how terrified you were because of the car accident. And you’d thrown a monumental fit over the falling incident. All without ever for a second questioning yourself.

You could still sense Dick’s concerned stare on your back as you popped open the large refrigerator and briefly scanned the shelves for something to eat. Nothing looked good today. You nudged the steel doors closed again.

A quiet sigh left your lips. You knew you should try saying something, but it just felt weird with Dick standing there, almost supervising you and Jason like two rowdy pups that couldn’t be left alone together. You were sure Jason had told him what happened. How honest he’d been was the real question, but Jason was so hard on himself, you doubted he’d try to paint himself in a better light by withholding details.

Your eyes flitted between them, deciding how you should broach the subject, or if you should broach it all. Would pretending everything was fine be better? Who should you even address? It would be awkward to just talk as if Dick wasn’t there, but what business of his was it how ugly Jason made you feel?

Seconds later, as if some divine force heard your internal gripes, Dick’s phone rang from upstairs.

“Damn,” he said, looking between the lofted walkway and the pair of you. He seemed reluctant to leave. “I’ll be right back.”

You tried not to look too relieved as he left the room. With a deep breath, you took the spot he’d been standing in. Right across from Jason.

He finally looked at you. His murky green eyes stared across the island into your own. Your heart skipped a couple beats. You had to swallow down the nausea creeping up on you.

“I hope you know I feel like shit about what I said…” he started quietly.

You couldn’t take it. You looked down at the counter again where your fingers fidgeted idly with one another.

“You don’t have to. I know you were really upset. I shouldn’t have intruded,” you said at a similar volume.

“That’s no excuse. I should have better control.”

“Everyone slips up now and then…” you said and shrugged. “We can just forget about the whole thing.”

For a moment, you found the courage to look at him once more. But it evaporated just as fast upon seeing his expression. He looked worse than before. Sadness had mixed in with his shame, and it made you feel like throwing up.

“Really,” you continued. “It’d probably be for the best if we just moved past it. I’m not gonna hold it against you or whatever.”

“You could if you wanted to. You haven’t had trouble calling me out for anything else. I’d deserve it,” he said.

The words hung between the two of you. This was obviously not “anything else.” This wasn’t him teasing you with an annoying nickname or insulting your choice of clothing. This was him calling you out with nearly psychic precision, striking each of your insecurities with shattering force.

You simply shook your head. “It’s fine. I’d really rather just forget about it,” you said.

The ceiling creaked overhead, presumably from Dick walking around while taking that call. You hoped it would last a while longer. For once you didn’t want anyone on your side. You didn’t want him playing mediator.

Jason seemed reluctant to accept your answer, but given you were the one hurting it wasn’t like he had room to argue.

“If that’s what you want…” he said. “But just… I didn’t mean what I said.”

Maybe if you were in a better mood you’d roll your eyes or laugh at that. If it wasn’t such a sensitive topic, if the words didn’t hurt just to recall, if they didn’t apply to you, maybe you would have been happy to call him on this too.

“Yeah you did,” you said. “But I don’t blame you for it.”

“I don’t want-”

“Please just let me move on from it,” you continued. “I don’t want things to be weird from now on just cause you said a couple things about me.”

“It wasn’t just a couple things. You don’t have to-” he tried, but you took a couple steps back now. 

It was too much. You were trying to be the opposite of how you normally would act. You were trying to be better. Why was he pushing back? It felt like there was no way to win.

“It was, and I’m ok, really. I’d rather just leave it in the past and forget. I’m a big girl. I can handle a few mean words,” you brushed off.

He stared at you with those sad, traumatized-pitbull eyes but didn’t say anything more. You headed back to the stairs, following your original plan of retreating to your room for the rest of the day. Maybe time would make this feel better. A few days would allow the pain to dull, and things could go back to normal.

Nearly a week went by, and unfortunately, you’d been wrong. Things had not gone back to normal.

They weren’t as bad as that first day. For that first twenty-four hours after, tension was built into the very walls of the penthouse. You stayed in your bedroom, only going downstairs in the evening to grab some food.

Dick lingered around. He so obviously wanted to check on you and make sure you were doing alright while you so obviously did not want to talk about anything related to the incident with Jason. You didn’t know what Jason got up to most of that day. He never came up to try and see you or anything. He respected your space like you hadn’t with him. That thought made you feel worse.

That night you dreamt about the two of them. It wasn’t a nightmare. You didn’t thrash around like Jason had the night before. There was no intense action or dire situations. Instead, it felt empty. You walked around a world inside your head where both of them had left you, where they had moved onto other cases and left you behind as nothing more than a memory.

Your eyes opened in the darkness of your room. You didn’t have a racing heart or a frantic mind. Rather a sense of melancholic dread rattled around inside your chest.

You decided then and there that you would make sure your dream stayed just that. It wouldn’t become real. They wouldn’t just serve the rest of their time on your case like some awkward prison sentence. You always got what you wanted, and this would be no exception.

So the next day and every day that came after that you changed your strategy.

The next day you went downstairs, dressed like you normally would. You kept your head held high and your shoulders back, and you acted as if Jason had never called you the poster-child for daddy issues.

Dick seemed willing to play along with you like usual. He didn’t acknowledge how upset you’d been, content to move on exactly like you had asked. In his eyes, there was no use prolonging the whole thing. It wasn’t like you and Jason had gone back to being at each other’s throats, so that was good enough for him.

On the other hand, Jason wasn’t as easy to satisfy. It wasn’t that he disapproved of the way you chose to handle yourself. He wasn’t out right mean to you or anything like that either. He simply became… distant.

And you fucking hated it. You’d honestly prefer him tearing into you to whatever weird awkward limbo the penthouse had settled into now.

When the three of you went places, he remained completely professional. His eyes watched everyone in the room but you. And at home he was the same. He kept to himself, stayed silent during meals spare a few comments here and there. He wouldn’t joke around with you like before, but he wouldn’t mock you either. He was just indifferent, and it was driving you fucking crazy.

Dick tried reassuring you that it was normal. You hadn’t done anything wrong, this was just how Jason could be some times. He was a private guy, and when something was bothering him, he kept it to himself until it went away or his frustration bubbled over.

You tried accepting it, but it was a difficult transition. Jason spent most of his free time up in the guest room you’d assigned him to on his first day. A tiny piece of your brain assumed it was only a matter of time until he packed up his things and left you to Dick alone. You could imagine it — just waking up to him being gone. His stuff cleared from his room, his motorcycle gone from the parking lot. Not a word of goodbye. An exit as quick as he entered, leaving no evidence that he was ever a part of your life.

The whole dilemma consumed your thoughts while you tried watching this movie with Dick. You sat against him with his arm around your shoulders, your foot bouncing on the floor while anxiety completely clouded your mind. The fact that you had seen this movie before wasn’t helping you focus any.

You looked up at him to check how he was faring but found his head tilted back against the soft cushion. His eyes had fallen shut while his breaths came out at a slow, steady rhythm.

Just to be sure, you nudged him once.

“Dick?” you whispered.

Still nothing.

Ever so carefully, you pulled away from his body. Half of you expected him to wake up at the feeling of movement or the sudden lack of warmth pressed to his side, but he didn’t. He stayed sound asleep as you retreated from the living room and headed towards the stairs.

You knew it probably wasn’t the smartest decision. Shouldn’t you have learned your lesson about chasing after Jason? But even if the events of that night repeated, it didn’t matter. Fighting would be better than constant, unending tension. That was what you told yourself anyways.

As you crept along the walkway, you didn’t hear anything coming from his room. You wondered if he was sleeping already. The lights were still on though. You could see a sliver shining from where the door was opened just a crack.

Upon peeking inside, you didn’t know what you expected to see. Whenever Jason was with you, he seemed to do things he knew would entertain you or occupy your attention. Right now though, in the solitary peace of the bedroom, you found him reading.

He was lying on his bed, one hand holding the book apart above his head. His eyes scanned the pages quietly until his other set of fingers came up to turn the page. You stood there for a few moments, contemplating whether or not you should interrupt. But your longing for him won out over the small ability to be considerate you possessed.

You pushed the door open another foot or two and rapped your knuckles on the frame. See, you were being better. Two weeks ago, you never would have knocked.

He looked away from the pages at the sound. Once he saw it came from you, he sat up, putting the book on his nightstand.

“Oh, you don’t have to…” you started, but really you wanted his full attention, so you stopped yourself short.

“It’s fine. Did you need something?” he said simply.

You stood there for a few moments, not knowing what to do. Because, yes, you did need something. You needed him to stop being so fucking stiff. You were about one monotonous reply away from crawling on your knees and begging for him to disrespect you like a normal person again.

“Um… I just wanted to see you,” you said instead. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Taking a leap of faith, you walked into the room a few paces. He didn’t tell you to get out or back up, so in your mind, that was a good sign.

“Yeah?” he said.

You nodded. “I feel like I haven’t seen you that much lately…” you continued.

A huff of what sounded like laughter came from his lips, yet he didn’t appear happy. “Well, I’m doing fine. Same as always, you know,” he shrugged.

“Are you? You don’t seem the same…” you said, walking even closer to his bed. “I just…”

You couldn’t get the words out. Every sentence you spoke felt like traversing a field of landmines.

“You just what?” he asked.

Your eyes fell to his blankets covering the mattress. Part of you had hoped that he would just understand what you were trying to say. That he would want things to go back to normal as badly as you did.

You sat down on the edge of his bed. Your first instinct was to get more confrontational. Dragging this out was painful. It would be so much easier to strike, to force him to tell you why he’d been acting this way, why he’d been punishing you for his own actions. But you knew that would only make things worse.

“It’s nothing. Nevermind…” you finally answered. “What were you reading?”

You were trying your hardest to appear unaffected. It wasn’t the best performance you’d ever given, but if he saw through it, he spared you the torture of saying something.

“Nothing special. Doubt it would be your taste.”

“How do you know? I like all kinds of things.”

“Do you even like to read?” he asked. 

“Oh come on,” you scoffed. “I’m not stupid if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

For the first time in days, a bit of his spark flickered back to life. 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. It just doesn’t seem like something you’d enjoy doing. Reading takes patience. Something you don’t have a lot of.”

You knew he was joking, but it stung. The words sliced into you like fresh cuts on already wounded flesh. They were just another way he disapproved of you.

“I have the patience… I used to do it a lot more when I was younger, but if something interests me, then I’ll read it.”

Getting all sad probably wouldn’t help your case, so you tried remaining lighthearted. You didn’t want anything serving as a callback to the other night. If that meant shoving your feelings down and putting on the face you wanted him to see, you could. You’d had a lot of practice at that over the years.

You rolled your eyes and crawled closer to him. “Just tell me what you’re reading,” you said. 

Maybe you just had to take the first step. If you could entice him into playing along with you, that could repair things.

“Why are you so interested?” he said. He wasn’t moving away at all. That was good.

“I wouldn’t be if you weren’t being so secretive,” you replied.

The two of you stared each other down for a few seconds before you lunged for the nightstand. He sprung into action just as quickly. His arms looped around your waist, keeping you away from your target. For a split second, everything fell back into place.

You squirmed in his grasp, playfully wrestling him a little. He did it right back. The size advantage he had on you made it a quick struggle. In no time, you were flat on your back, pinned to the mattress with him above.

He gazed down at you, and he looked like the Jason you knew. There wasn’t any forced restraint or haunted resignation. His features relaxed, his eyes softened. All as he focused on you.

You opened your mouth to taunt him again but he beat you to it.

“Pet Sematary,” he answered. “Pretty basic.”

You grinned up at him, elated at his shift in attitude. And he actually smiled back at you. It wasn’t a big one, but it rarely was with Jason. If anything, it was the best case scenario for this situation, so you were more than pleased.

That was until his eyes drifted down. It was a natural movement, one he had done many times before while on top of you. But now his pupils didn’t catch on your collarbone or breasts. Instead, the marks on your throat brought them to a halt.

The little bruises from his fingers had almost healed by now. They were barely there, close to being completely faded. But that wasn’t good enough for him.

He brought one of his hands to your neck. His index finger traced over them, dragging across them as if playing connect the dots. That smile melted away in seconds.

You grabbed his hand, gently wrapping your fingers around his palm. “They don’t hurt,” you said softly.

“Doesn’t matter. They shouldn’t be there at all.”

“It was just an accident, Jason,” you said. Your voice had gone so quiet it was only a couple decibels louder than a whisper.

“One that never would have happened if I was doing my job,” he said. He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles before he let you go entirely and sat up.

You followed him upright. “Oh come on. This isn’t… It’s not like that,” you said. You were trying your hardest to be careful and not overstep again. “Even if you were being the absolute pinnacle of professionalism, that still could have happened.”

“It wouldn’t have,” he said.

“It could have. It’s not like you were distracted, so I got hurt or something. It was totally out of your control. There was nothing to protect me from there. You let your guard down because I let you. Because this isn’t like your other jobs. You couldn’t have done anything to stop this.”

He shook his head, dropping it into his hands for a moment. “I should have known better. Even if there’s nothing to protect you from, I shouldn’t be putting you in danger by letting you get so close to me.”

Without even thinking about it, you rose to your knees behind him. Your arms draped over his shoulders, and you slotted your head against his neck. You could feel his heart beating with your own against his back. Your eyes closed. You couldn’t help but think he might have been right in saying you were out of your depth the other night.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered with a few kisses to the back of his neck. “You pushing me away for the whole week feels worse than a few seconds of your hand on my throat.”

His fingers began to trace small lines up and down your forearm. “It was a few seconds then, but it could have been so much worse. It’s not worth the risk,” he said.

“Yes, you are,” you said, bordering on pleading. Your arms' grip grew tighter around him. “I miss you, Jason. And it’s so fucking stupid because you’re right here. I see you everyday. You’re only ever a few rooms away. But I miss you. You feel so far away, and I hate it.”

What you really hated was the fact that you could feel your throat starting to close up and tears stinging your eyes. In an attempt to keep them hidden, you squished your face against the back of his neck harder. It had been years since you had this much trouble hiding pain. The last time had to be almost a decade ago, some time during your teenage years.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. But he didn’t take it back. He didn’t pull you closer. He didn’t say anything that gave you the impression he’d be letting you in again any time soon.

“Don’t be,” you said, your voice cracking against your will. “Don’t be sorry, just be normal. Just be how you were. Just stop shutting me out.”

“I can’t. Hurting you fucks me up too, you know? I can’t do it again,” he said softly. He sighed and gently began to peel your arms off of him. “You’re a sweet girl. For all your attitude, you got a good heart buried in there somewhere. All that shit I gave you, it was just-”

“Wh-what?” you stuttered incredulously. A few tears leaked from your eyes simply because of how much they had widened. You wiped them away as quickly as you could. “What are you doing? Why are you talking like this is a break up or something? Like you’re trying to let me down gently?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to make you feel better, but-”

“Oh my god. You are. My bodyguard is dumping me,” you said and pulled back from him all on your own.

He looked at you, not in anger or satisfaction. If anything, he just looked tired.

“Call it what you want. I just want you to know that I didn’t mean that shit I said, and I don’t want you believing any of it. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” you repeated, your regular attitude clawing its way back to the surface. “So what? You’re just gonna ignore me for the rest of the time you’re here?”

“No. I’m gonna talk to Dick tomorrow about reassignment.”

Hearing that shattered what little you had left of your more demure facade. The words struck you like bullets. You got off the bed and onto your feet. Playing nice was bullshit if this is what it got you.

“Well go ahead then! Do whatever you want! Just leave like nothing ever happened! If you think I’m gonna beg you to stay here, you’re crazy!” you snapped.

He just stared at you, which only made you feel more pathetic. Here you were yet again, stamping your feet and trying to hold back tears over an argument. The only difference between then and now was he sat behind a desk instead of on the other side of a bed.

You didn’t wait for a response. Getting out was all that mattered. You turned on your heel and practically tore the door off its hinges as you left. It stayed ajar while you stormed down the remainder of the walkway. When you went into your own room, that door slammed firmly behind you.

The loud bang from upstairs snapped Dick awake. He came out of the haze of sleep immediately on edge when he realized you were no longer at his side.

After shutting the tv off and rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes, he headed up there. On the way past Jason’s room, he peered inside. All he got from him was a grim look and a shaking head. At least he could be sure nothing was seriously wrong now.

He headed the rest of the way to your room and slipped inside without a sound. It was quiet in there — dark spare the dim glow of your bedside lamp. He’d expected worse for some reason. You seething or in tears, pacing with some furniture knocked over or at least a couple pillows scattered around.

But you were just lying on your bed, completely still and silent. It was only when he got closer could he see that you were nearly vibrating with how upset you were.

“Hey, you disappeared on me,” he said while approaching the bed. He started off light, trying to get a read on just how bad your mood was. All the bickering he’d seen between you and Jason prior to this was just that — bickering. But the door slamming hadn’t sounded like the conclusion to a minor disagreement.

And you gave him no response, so he figured it was worse than whatever he thought.

He sat down on the side of the bed and leaned across to rub your shoulder. Your muscles were taut beneath your skin like a rubber band close to snapping. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“Jason is a fucking asshole, that’s what,” you choked out.

That was all you really said about it to him for the rest of the night. You’d give little pieces here and there about how you hated Jason and you wished he’d just left you alone to begin with. He tried coaxing out the full story, but you wouldn’t budge.

He did all that he could — stayed with you until your body went lax and your cries decreased to occasional sniffles. You just needed some time to calm down, he assumed. Tomorrow you’d tell him what happened or he’d find out from Jason, and everything would work out.

However, the morning brought a different story than he’d hoped.

You slept in much later than usual. He figured it was half due to the exhausted state you left yourself in after being so upset and half due to the overcast weather outside. The sea of clouds blocking the sun left your bedroom doused in murky gray, much darker than usual.

Once you were up, he tried offering to take you out for some breakfast. He’d drive you anywhere you wanted to go. The two of you could even walk around after, maybe do something else until you had to get ready for the fundraiser you were attending in the evening. He thought it would be good. A distraction and a way of keeping you and Jason separated.

But all it got him in return was a glare.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Not in the mood. That’s ok. Do you-”

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me or like take me out to pity breakfast or whatever,” you interjected.

“Hey,” he said, more serious than he usually spoke. But he had to be. You had more bite in your voice than he’d heard so far. “It’s not like that. I’m doing anything out of pity, and you should know that.”

“Well that’s what it feels like. I can deal with being upset, you know. I don’t need you trying to handle it or distract me,” you huffed. You rose from your bed and began putting the pillows and blankets back into place with obvious irritation.

It was becoming clear to him that you were just in a pissy mood, and you were going to be difficult for the sake of it. Jason’s warning from that first day rang through his head again. Maybe his charm had reached its expiration date with you. But unlike Jason, he didn’t have a problem remaining cordial with you.

“Fine. If you need space, I’ll leave you alone,” he said as he began to back up towards the door.

Before he could leave, you asked one more thing. “Have you talked to Jason yet?”

His brow raised at the word yet. “No,” he replied.

“You should. He’s the one that could use handling,” you grumbled while walking towards the ensuite bathroom.

He just let you go without saying anything else. It was probably for the best that he did talk to Jason while you mellowed out some more.

“What did you do?” he asked as he entered Jason’s room without so much as a knock.

Jason, who had been in the middle of doing some sit ups on the ground next to the large windows, didn’t stop his reps upon Dick’s intrusion. He simply glanced over at him, unamused.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“You know what I’m talking about. Why is she so upset?”

Finally, he sat up for good. Though he didn’t seem eager to have the conversation. With a bitter laugh, he shook his head and stood up.

“She told you it was my fault?” he said.

Dick paused before shrugging. “In so many words.”

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “She must be really pissed if she won’t even tell you the full story.”

“So you tell it to me.”

“There’s not much to tell. I told her I was sorry, said she was a nice girl, and told her I planned on asking you for reassignment,” he said before looking over directly at Dick. “So, I guess I’m asking now. I think I need to be moved to another case. What do you think?”

Dick rubbed his eyes. That would do it. Now it made perfect sense to him why you’d been so agitated. He sighed before making eye contact with Jason again.

“Is that really what you want?”

He nodded, expression hard and unfaltering.

“Alright… I’ll see what I can do. I’ll make a few calls tomorrow,” he said. “Are you leaving now? Or-”

“I’ll stay till you find me something else. Not like I’m in a rush. I don’t have much else to do,” he shrugged.

“You gonna come to that fundraiser tonight?”

“Might as well,” he replied.

Dick nodded. “Right… Well I’ll let you know when I work something out.”

That served as his parting statement to Jason. There wasn’t much else to discuss between the two of them. At least not right now.

He headed out, shutting the door behind him. From there, he didn’t know where to go. Technically he had his own room, but the penthouse had become a tangled web of tension. He felt like no place would bring refuge right now.

With a sigh, he headed in that direction anyways. He wasn’t happy about Jason’s decision for more reasons than he could articulate to either of you. Not only were you gonna be even more miserable when he actually left, but Dick didn’t want to see him go either. 

Jason kept things balanced around here. You and him bounced off each other, took out all your frustration towards life on one another. With him around, Dick could always be the good cop. He could forever be the one to take care of you, to fix things. He never had to deal with your attitude before this morning.

But he also didn’t want Jason to go because he knew what this was. He’d done it before. Most severely after that case went wrong, but whenever he made a mistake it seemed he couldn’t help retreating.

The same man who never turned down a fight, who talked more shit than anyone else he knew, fled at the first sign of someone wanting to get closer. Dick used to not understand, but he’d drawn conclusions over the years. No one could see the deep cracks along his surface if he ran before they ever got close enough to get a good look.

He flopped back on the bed, noticing how the mattress had less spring than the one in your room. It didn’t matter. It would be comfortable enough for him to relax until the three of you had to drive across town for the fundraiser later tonight. 

Maybe after that he could talk to Jason, try to convince him that this wasn’t something he needed to run from. If that didn’t work, maybe he’d talk to you about the importance of being able to let things go, that every rejection wasn’t a personal attack of the highest degree. Hell, maybe he could just get drunk enough at the fundraiser that the two of you would have to take care of him and come back together over that.

It didn’t matter. No option was gonna be fun, easy, or pleasant.

God, why couldn’t the two of you just go back to banging things out?

You spent most of the day in the bath. Hours went by with your body submerged in steaming, rose-scented water. It was hot enough to sting. Almost as if you believed the heat could kill the gross feeling of abandonment crawling all over you. 

Every time the water got cold, you’d refill the tub. Candle light flickered along the walls, painting the pale tiles in shadows. You watched them shift around in silence, not in the mood to occupy your attention with anything. It was too hard to focus. Everything seemed to remind you of your current dilemma, and the inability to distract yourself made you wish you hadn’t been so hard on Dick who probably would have been successful at relieving your stress.

Once you finally couldn’t stand the feeling of your water-logged skin anymore, you rose to your feet and pulled the drain. The water rushed away in an urgent spiral as you reached for a towel. The pale pink fluff dragged across every inch of your body. You shimmied it around yourself until there wasn’t a bead of water left to roll down your skin.

The rest of your routine came in that quiet, practiced way that seemed automatic. You applied a healthy coat of lotion all over, squirted a few different serums into your hands to work onto your face.

By the time you made it back to your bedroom, it was late afternoon. The sun was setting outside. From the lower angle, it cut through the clouds, painting your room a warm orange.

You still had a couple hours before that fundraiser. That stupid fucking fundraiser. Quite possibly the last place on Earth you wanted to go tonight. You couldn’t remember what charity it was for, let alone why your father was making you attend. He’d already won the election. What was the point of kissing ass now?

Staring at your phone, you tried to think of any excuse that could get you out of it. There had to be a way you could stay in and wallow instead of mingling with a bunch of walking bank accounts for the evening. Just one call feigning cramps or something…

It wasn’t worth it though, and you knew that. If you ditched this thing, you’d have to do something more torturous next week. You’d get a call from your mother about how much he did for you, how it disappointed him when you couldn’t be bothered to show some gratitude. 

When he expected you at something, you went. That was that. You dressed up all pretty, smiled for pictures, and tried to conceal your misery until you were allowed to slip away. At least now that you were older, you didn’t have to go home with them.

You walked over to your closet, running your fingertips along your options for a dress tonight. Your mother had sent you one like she did for all the events you attended with them. It was long, emerald green with off-the-shoulder sleeves. But like with all the gowns she sent you, it would stay hung up on the wardrobe door for the night.

Instead, you selected a dress that was to your liking. It was just as long as the other one but in sparkling silver. The straps were thin on your shoulders, and the waistline was snug around your figure.

You put on some makeup to match and styled your hair with a little more effort than you would on any other day. It was weird. As much as you hated things like this, you found yourself always trying your best with your appearance. No matter how many you went to, you never fully understood your own motivation. 

Part of you thought it was a way of proving something, showing off to them that you were still at the top of your game no matter what bullshit they threw at you. Another part believed it might be petty. Your mother, for all the years she treated you as competition, could now live with the fact that you were beating her each and every time.

Or then again, sometimes you believed you just liked looking nice. Who was to say?

When you had finished assembling your look, it was almost time to go. The bright orange sun had disappeared beyond the horizon, and the skyscrapers had all lit up in its place. You rose to your feet and slipped on some pumps to go with your dress before heading out of your bedroom for the first time today.

You could hear one of them downstairs in the kitchen. Dick or Jason, you couldn’t really tell. The sounds weren’t distinct enough to make a real guess. You honestly couldn’t say who you’d prefer it be right now. Both would be awkward.

It didn’t matter though. You’d have to face them both before leaving anyways. You headed downstairs and towards the kitchen quietly. Upon getting closer, you saw Dick. He stood there in a crisp black suit, fixing his tie. Even if you were in a shitty mood, you couldn’t come close to denying that he looked good.

Once he heard the click of your heels entering the room, he looked up. He seemed to have a similar reaction to your outfit. His pupils raked downward over the length of your dress before returning to your face.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. It made you feel like total shit. You could snap at him for no reason, and he’d still talk to you as if you were the most precious person on Earth.

“Hey…” you said back.

“You look beautiful. That dress-” he said with a playful whistle, “-good choice.”

“Thank you,” you replied, looking down at the sparkles sewn into the fabric.

The prospect of apologizing for earlier popped into your head, but before you could act on it, another voice interjected.

“Ready to go?” Jason asked.

The deep timbre of his words pulled you around to finally face him. You tried to hide your reaction as best you could; though, he probably saw the way your eyes widened based on the smirk that appeared across his lips. 

Like Dick, Jason wore a dark suit. Only with him, it was much more jarring to you. Dick looked almost natural in nicer clothes. They went right along with his pretty hair and picture-perfect smile. But before this very moment, you’d never even imagined Jason in clothes other than the plain shirts and pants he normally wore.

His shoulders were so broad and his arms so thick that part of you would have thought a suit would look comical on him. But that clearly wasn’t the case as he stood before you now, dressed in fabrics tailored to him exactly.

“See something you like?” he asked. He stepped in your direction before slowly doing a 360, mocking the way you’d shown off to him time and time again.

“I’m looking at you, aren’t I? So obviously not,” you said flatly, looking away before you embarrassed yourself further.

“Ouch, that hurts, you know,” he said, unable to hide his amusement as he feigned a wince.

“Why are you even coming? Don’t you have some place better to be yet?”

“I didn’t know you were so eager to see me go,” he taunted. “But not yet. Plus, I don’t want to miss one of my last chances to enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

Your expression grew more irritated, but before things could get any worse, Dick’s hand landed on the small of your back.

“Let’s head out if we’re all ready to go,” he said.

Reluctantly, you nodded. You shuffled towards the exit of the penthouse, grabbing your clutch off the side table on your way there. 

Just a few hours. You could get through this.

Your hand shielded your eyes from the few flashing lights that shrouded the entrance of this place. It wasn’t a swarm by any means, just a few photographers here and there from local papers. Definitely not the largest crowd you’d seen before the doors of an event you were dragged to.

Not far behind, you could hear Dick handling the valet and Jason shutting the back door. You didn’t bother waiting for them. You made your way up the stone steps to the doors of the hotel without stopping for a single picture.

A hand slipped around the crux of your elbow as you got closer to the large glass front. You didn’t have to look to know it was Dick. While his and Jason’s hands weren’t that much different physically, their touch was like night and day. The way they grabbed and handled and held alone was enough for you to separate the two.

“Something wrong?” you asked quietly.

“I should be asking you that with the way you bolted,” Dick replied at the same volume.

You took a brief pause from walking to look over your shoulder at him. A few paces back from him, you spotted Jason lagging behind a bit, keeping clearly intentional distance between him and you.

“I’m fine. I’m just not in the mood for pictures or any of that,” you said.

“I get it. I just couldn’t have you getting so far ahead. I don’t know if they’ll let us into this place without you,” he joked.

“They’d be doing you a favor,” you sighed before resuming your walk, albeit at a slower pace.

You kept it slow enough that Jason was forced to catch up to you or risk looking out of place. He came to follow at your other side while the three of you strolled through the open entryway.

It led into a foyer of sorts. One with sleek marble floors and a trio of ornate chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. Staircases and elevators led to other floors of the building, but you knew the luxury event hall was just further along on this level.

You didn’t speak a word while walking down a spacious hall. It didn’t take long to reach the room you were looking for. It was one of the first ones to your left.

The door was propped open, giving you a preview of your night. A warm glow doused the room. Tables took up most of the space, and there was a bar off to the side. Patrons meandered about, drinks in hand while they talked to one another. Wordless music drifted out from inside, loud enough to provide a background to conversations without overtaking them.

Without trying to give away how much you dreaded this whole thing, you stepped forward. You tugged your arm free of Dick’s hold before heading in further at the pace of someone wading shark infested waters. 

At first, you didn’t recognize around half of the guests. They could have been out-of-state invites or some of the foundation’s employees. Maybe they were just people in this city whose circles you never had the pleasure of mixing with.

But as you got deeper into the room, familiar faces started sprouting up like weeds. You saw a handful of his associates along with their spawn littered throughout the place. A couple of them waved to you. They smiled at you with the manufactured joy of people you were forced to socialize with during adolescence. You offered a fake smile back though and gave them a lazy flick of your wrist as acknowledgement. 

Dick and Jason weren’t talking at all. They offered no distractions or relief from this crowd. You ended up glancing in their directions once or twice to make sure they were still there. Of course, they were. Dick was watching the place, observing the other people here with thoughtful eyes. Jason was also focused on them, but for a visibly different reason. Disdain oozed from his very being. He didn’t hide the fact that he loathed these people like you did. A sliver of you wondered if any of that judgement rubbed off onto his perception of you. As if it wasn’t tarnished enough already.

All you wanted was to find an open table. Most of them were occupied by a couple of people or had drinks scattered on top of them, marking that someone had already claimed part of it. You wanted one that offered the largest chance at no talking.

You thought you spotted one over towards the wall opposite the bar. Just as you were about to dash for it, you noticed the group standing a few feet from it. They were a collection of a suits with dresses attached to their arms, but only one pair shot a wave of nausea into you. Your mother and father in all their glitzy, artificial glory.

Before you could escape to the bar or hide in the bathroom, he had his sights on you. He called out to you in that tone that naturally boomed across the distance. You wished you could dissolve into the floor. Or, at the very least, collapse and have to be carted away from them off to the hospital.

They were the people you most wanted to avoid speaking to unless it was completely necessary, the two individuals that were absolutely guaranteed to make your mood worse, so of course, you’d spot them right away. And of course, they’d drag you into a conversation you wanted no part of.

Your mother started gesturing you over along with him. You forced your feet to move step by step in their direction. The fake smile didn’t find its way to your lips this time.

On the bright side of things, your father had all but dismissed the other men he’d been talking to by the time you approached him. That was for the best for both of you. With the mood you were in, you weren’t confident in your ability to bullshit smalltalk with his colleagues.

You could barely stand the hug he pulled you into. Pressed against his side, you mumbled out “Hi, dad.”

He smiled down at you as he let you stand straight again. “You’re late,” he said. “I almost thought we’d missed you or something.”

“No… there was just traffic,” you replied, smoothing your dress out a bit.

“That’s why I offered to send you a driver for tonight.”

His hand came out to gently pinch at the flesh of your cheek. You couldn’t turn your head away fast enough. It was more humiliating than normal. Jason and Dick were right there. You didn’t want to sound petulant, but the entire display made you look like a spoiled child.

“A different person driving the car wouldn’t have made the traffic clear up any faster,” you said.

He chuckled before sighing, making a show of your denial for the rest of your little group. “You keep growing up, but I can always count on that attitude never changing.”

You gritted your teeth to stifle down the response you might have given if there wasn’t a crowd of strangers around. Instead, you focused your attention on your mother, offering a wave in her direction.

She reached out for you, her hands smoothing over your shoulders and down your arms in place of a verbal hello.

“You didn’t like the dress I picked for you?” she asked.

“It was fine. I just wanted to wear this one tonight.”

She just hummed and raised her brows. Calculated indifference. A weapon in her arsenal she used against you often. You fucking hated it but wished you could wield it in your own right just as much. That was one thing you hadn’t gotten from her. The ability to detach with total ease. To ice everyone out and leave them still so desperate to be let back in again.

Useful attributes like those had skipped you right over. You’d inherited her eyes and figure, her volatile emotions and apparent need to handle everything in the most dramatic fashion possible. The small part of you that always felt spited, neglected, looked over — you were convinced it came from her as well, either in the form of genetics or learned behavior.

She was everything you loathed about yourself in the form of someone else. She was the future you didn’t want, a walking ghost of a past you got to live in right now.

You stared at this older, sadder version of yourself for a few more seconds before she did you the favor of looking towards the men behind you.

“Who are your friends, sweetheart?”

“They’re not friends. They’re the bodyguards dad hired,” you said flatly. You weren’t in the mood and she wasn’t worth a more accurate label. You glanced back at them one at a time. “This is Dick, and that’s Jason.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jason said, formal as ever. He stuck out his hand and shook hers.

Then Dick swooped in with his own hand, a smile already on his face. “It really is,” he said.

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. The prince charming thing was cute when he was doing it to you. Not your mother.

She looked him up and down, a faint smile on her lips. “You’ll have to forgive my mistake. Neither my husband nor my daughter keep me in the loop with these kinds of things,” she said.

You could feel your blood pressure rising by the second.

“Because they’re just precautionary. They don’t actually do anything,” you said.

Your father cut you off. “Don’t be disrespectful. They do what I ask of them. They keep you safe. They keep you out of trouble.”

They keep you controlled. That was the final statement that went unspoken. Not that you minded. It wasn’t close to being true. You could only imagine the conniption fit he’d have if he caught wind of the fact that he’d basically been paying them to rearrange your insides on the daily for the past several weeks.

His attention landed specifically on Jason next. “I don’t think we’ve met face-to-face before. It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand for a shake.

And Jason reciprocated without falter. “Likewise, sir,” he said.

Sir. You actually laughed. Jason could call you whatever he wanted but at least you had enough of a spine to not feign respect for people you could barely stand.

“Don’t feel too bad about it. He’s gonna be leaving soon anyways,” you said, trying to mask the bitterness lacing your tone.

That got everyone’s eyes on you. Your mother and father looked skeptical while Jason was almost glaring. Dick seemed concerned, but you were too irritated to care at this point.

“Is that so?” your father said, his eyes shifting from your direction back to Jason. “That’s a shame, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’s run someone off.”

“Dad-”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Jason said before you had the chance to snap. “She’s been a peach. There’s just another case that requires my attention.”

You wondered why he was even bothering with a lie. “Yeah. I didn’t run him off. He’s choosing to walk away,” you subtly shot at Jason.

Completely ignoring your comment, your father continued. “Well you’d be welcome back any time. Around my building or at some of our events. Even if she ever needed anyone again. I mean really, you’ve done such a good job with her. She’s mellowed out over the years, but by now, I usually would have gotten some kind of complaint.”

The words chipped at you bit by bit. Maybe if you didn’t resent him so much it wouldn’t have mattered. His remarks would feel like the playful ribbing he wanted them to sound like. They wouldn’t serve as bitter reminders of the image he painted of you, of how he took all of your bad decisions and shitty ways of handling things and made them who you were.

After taking a sip from her champagne glass, your mom looked at Jason too. “You two must have the patience of saints. The next time I go out of the country, I’ll have to get your number from my husband.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh please, mother. He barely tolerated me. I doubt he’ll want to be around either of the people who made me this way.”

And suddenly, it was awkward. Suddenly, they were all looking at you again, but this time with something close to pity. You couldn’t fucking take it. They could talk about you like you weren’t there, even shake hands over it for god’s sake, but you saying something in the same vein was too far apparently.

With a roll of your eyes, you mumbled, “I’m thirsty. I’m gonna go get a drink,” and then wasted no time before turning on your heel and walking off.

The heat of humiliation sweltered around your head like a monsoon cloud. It was a distant feeling, but familiar all the same. You didn’t understand it — why they stabbed at your insecurities so openly, why you reacted the same way after all these years.

You’d nearly reached the bar when a hand clasped around your bicep, stopping you in your tracks. Your head whipped around, ready to annihilate whoever was interfering with your escape plan.

“Hey, it’s just me,” Dick said softly. “You took off so fast. I just wanted to check on you, make sure you’re alright.”

He stood there with his worried expression and eyes full of the desire to help. Any other day you might have collapsed into his arms right then and there, desperate for him to make it better. But tonight your inflamed sense of rejection had control of the wheel.

“I’m fine,” you said.

“You don’t look it.”

“Well I am.”

He hesitated for a moment but persisted. Even with the groups of people scattered all around you, talking and moving about, he was determined to not let you slip away.

“You can tell me. We can talk about ‘real stuff,’ remember? I’m not trying to-” he started.

“There’s nothing to tell. I just can’t take them with their fake bullshit, and I can’t fucking take Jason going right along with it. That’s it.”

“That’s not nothing,” he said. “And I don’t blame you. I’m not gonna-”

“Look, I don’t need your help, Dick,” you said, quiet enough not to draw further attention. “I don’t need you to try and tell me it’s ok or that I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t need you to look at me like I’m some kind of broken Barbie doll for you to fix. This-” you gestured wildly at yourself, “-is just who I am, ok? I don’t need you making me feel like I’m any better.”

He didn’t try reaching for you again. You couldn’t blame him in the slightest, yet part of you still felt disappointed as his expression lost its persistence. Without physically moving at all, he retreated, pulled away from you and rescinded the lifesaver he’d thrown your way.

Your eyes stung as you turned around and stalked the rest of the way to the bar. This whole thing was spiraling so far out of proportion, and you just couldn’t get a handle on it. You quietly ordered yourself a drink, something strong enough to take the edge off. Something that could loosen you up and make you less likely to lose it on the next person who spoke to you.

Jason stood against the wall, watching as Dick came skulking back like a dog with his tail between his legs. He’d managed to drift away from your parents pretty easily after you stomped off. The area he was in now was relatively uncrowded. A couple of tables kept it blocked off enough that no one accidentally wandered over.

Dick came to lean next to him, his eyes still out on the main part of the room, intentionally avoiding your silhouette at the bar.

“She didn’t wanna talk,” he said flatly.

“Of course she didn’t,” Jason shrugged.

Dick sighed. He glanced at Jason for a moment, taking in his nonchalance towards your little episode.

“I know she gets on your nerves, but I think she’s really upset. I don’t think this is for attention or to cause a scene,” he said.

But Jason didn’t relent at all. “I’m sure she is. But she’s a big girl. If she wants help, she can ask for it. She can do more than stomp off like a teenager who got grounded.”

The conversation could have died there. In a way, Jason was right, and Dick knew it. You could communicate better. You could actually handle things like you claimed you had the ability to instead of sulking and avoiding. But he also knew it was a double-edged sword. Jason wasn’t the best at communication either. Trying to get the two of you to work together was like expecting brick walls to close the gap in an alleyway.

After a few minutes of silence, Dick tried again.

“Even if I don’t find you a case by tomorrow, I think you should leave, man,” he said quietly.

Jason turned his head, looking him in the eyes. “You’re kicking me out?” he asked, almost mocking.

Without a trace of humor, Dick nodded. “If that’s how you wanna take it, then yeah, I guess I am. Hanging around isn’t good for either of you. It drives you crazy, and it makes her sad. And I don’t want to be the one dealing with it all the time either, so I think if you’re done with her, you should just go.”

Despite the chatter of conversation and the hum of music all around them, the room felt silent for a moment. A shadow seemed to cast over Jason. His arms crossed over his chest and his gaze went back to the other part of the room. Some part of what Dick said had bothered him.

“I’ll try talking to her,” he finally said. “But if she throws a fit, then I’ll be done.”

For the first time in a while, Jason’s choice surprised Dick. He nodded, wanting to offer encouragement but fearing if he gave too much support, Jason would change his mind.

He took a breath before pushing off the wall and heading in that general direction. Dick watched from the same spot, silently hoping this wouldn’t end in a screaming match or security having to separate the two of you. You had seemed pretty upset when he went after you, but he wasn’t the one who’d done the damage. His comfort couldn’t heal your wound as easily.

His hopes didn’t go anywhere though because about halfway to the bar, Jason turned back to him with a perplexed look. He said something, but Dick couldn’t hear. He followed in that direction, allowing his ears to pick up the message the second time.

“She’s not over there.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, instantly looking for himself.

Sure enough, you were nowhere to be found. Dick brushed past Jason to get closer, his mind snapping into work-mode without missing a beat. He scanned the whole area, the surrounding crowd and the spots behind taller patrons. Still nothing.

“Fuck,” Dick said and rubbed his face.

“She’s probably still here,” Jason said. “It hasn’t been that long. She couldn’t have gotten too far away.”

Dick nodded. This wasn’t a matter of life or death. It wasn’t like other cases where losing sight of a client could mean the next time they saw you you’d be on the floor in a pool of blood or photographed in the paper after being found in a river. Rather, this was a question of whether or not next week they’d still be employed. Whether or not their firm would be able to find work in this city for much longer. Your parents had been singing their praises only minutes ago, but he could only imagine how fast that would change if you got into some sort of trouble. 

He could see it going wrong in so many ways. Different scenarios flashed through his mind like warnings. He could just imagine you wreaking drunken havoc out in the lobby. He could picture you picking up his car from the valet, taking it on a joy ride around town till you crashed into something.

His eyes swept the room one more time. He checked to be sure you weren’t moping around the edges or slumped over at a table anywhere. Once he was sure you’d left this room at the very least, he waved towards the door.

“Let’s check out there before we start thinking of any other place,” he said.

Jason went along without protest.

The two of them left the banquet hall and headed back down the hallway they’d come. They eyed each group meandering throughout, but you still weren’t there.

They reached the lobby. Luckily, you weren’t at the front desk having a meltdown. You weren’t around any of the other guests entering the main doors. You weren’t collapsed on the stairs. Dick was about ready to accept that you’d left when Jason broke him from his thoughts.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Dick’s head snapped in Jason’s direction before following his eyeline to a large pillar near the set of  elevators. Finally, you were in view. Your back was pressed to the marble, some guy leaning into your bubble. His laminated ID dangled between your bodies. Your fingers toyed with the hem of his tie.

Jason sounded and looked actually pissed. Dick knew he probably shouldn’t be the one to handle it if they didn’t want to cause a scene. But before he could suggest anything else, Jason was talking.

“Go get the car. I’ll be out there with her in a couple of minutes.”

“Jason, don’t-”

“Don’t worry, dad. I’m just gonna talk to her. Like you said,” he said. Though his expression gave the impression that a civil conversation was the last thing on his mind.

But he was already stalking over to the two of you, so Dick figured having the escape route ready was the best case scenario at this point.

As you twirled this guy’s crimson tie around your index finger, you also came to the realization that you had no idea what you were doing.

He’d been next to you at the bar when you threw back the shot you’d ordered. It took a second, but you recognized him after a moment of staring. You hadn’t seen him in years, not since your second semester of college. He hadn’t changed much since then. A different haircut, a nicer outfit, but he was still the same guy who’d come over at any time of night if you sent him a text about needing to have some fun.

And you needed some fun right now. You needed a distraction, and the way he was looking you up and down in return told you he was willing to to be one for the next couple of hours.

It didn’t take much to coax him away with you. A gentle touch of your hand upon his forearm, a lip bite, and a couple of innuendo-ridden statements about catching up and taking a trip down memory lane, and he was following you out like a dog on a leash. 

Men at these things were easy, and he was no exception. They wanted everyone to think they were so smart, so respectable, but they treated it as barely a step above a bar. At the end of the day, it was a place to find a hookup for the night before they headed back to the capitol or another event in the morning.

He was staying a couple blocks away at a more budget-friendly hotel. According to his ID and the facts he’d eagerly shared about himself, he was chief of staff for a representative also in attendance at the fundraiser.

You stood against the wall now, looking up at him. He’d called an uber, and now it was just a waiting game. Enough time for you to either double down or regret your mistake before you’d even made it.

Neither came to pass. Jason appeared beside you and your suitor faster than you could get away.

“There you are. I thought I’d lost you,” he said. His voice sounded lighthearted, but upon looking in his eyes, you knew that wasn’t the case.

“If only,” you shot back with a false smile.

“You know, if you wanted some attention, you’d only have to ask Dick,” he mocked. “There’s no need for the disappearing act.”

You stared at him with pure hatred — something much stronger than your normal annoyed side eye — as if you could will him away with the intensity of your anger alone. The guy who’d been so interested in you only seconds ago stood up straight.

“Who is this?” he asked, glancing between you and Jason.

“He’s no one,” you answered.

He looked at you with suspicion. That answer wasn’t gonna satisfy him. Not when the no one in question was someone like Jason. Someone who stood at least six inches taller and weighed a minimum fifty pounds heavier.

A few seconds passed before he fully turned to Jason. “Look, man, if you’re her boyfriend, she didn’t tell me anything about that. I’m sorry-”

“He’s not my boyfriend. He works for my dad-” you tried to cut in.

“I’m her bodyguard. But I do have some advice, kid,” he said, eyes flitting down to the badge hanging from his neck. “Consider this a favor. If you want any kind of job in Washington, banging a senator’s daughter when she’s got a few drinks in her probably isn’t the best way to go.”

“I didn’t-” you started but he already had a response.

“Maybe I should leave you two to work things out…” he said, clearly not wanting to deal with all of your drama.

“No! You don’t have to-” you tried.

But Jason smiled at him and ended the conversation with two words. “Great idea.”

Your old “friend” slipped back several feet, tapping the screen on his phone, if you had to guess, to cancel the ride. You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t even give you a wave goodbye before fading into the background with some other group of people.

Your attention snapped back to Jason, a glare already settled in your eyes. “I’m not drunk. I didn’t have that much to drink.”

“Then why are you acting like this?” he said, somewhere between taunting and serious.

“Oh fuck off! What? Are you jealous? You already told me you didn’t want anything to do with me!” you said, loud enough that a few people nearby looked your way. You went to swat at his chest, but he caught your wrist with ease.

He stepped closer, almost assuming the position that the other guy had vacated. “That’s not what I said,” he said, voice lowered. “And despite what you may think, I care about you. I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret or getting hurt just because you’re upset with me.”

“Give me a fucking break,” you scoffed. “You have no right. It’s not your job to stop me from making decisions you don’t approve of.”

“This isn’t about what I approve of. I’m getting paid to keep you out of trouble, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“Hm. It wasn’t considered trouble when you were the one getting to fuck me,” you said.

That touched a nerve. The air went cold around the two of you. Nearby crowds faded further into the backdrop. You stared at each other as if it was a contest with survival on the line.

Your wrist was still in his grasp, his strong fingers wrapped around your limb tight. You couldn’t just walk away even if you wanted to. But honestly, you didn’t want to. This hurt in the best kind of way. This was what you were used to, lashing out, tearing into another person and then letting them rip you to shreds right back.

Tension stirred between you both hot enough to create an electrical charge. You swallowed hard, waiting to see what he would do next. It was his move in this little game. His eyes stayed on you, pensive as he contemplated how to proceed.

“Look. I understand that you’re pissed at me, but you’re embarrassing yourself. You didn’t want to sleep with that guy. You wanted to make us feel bad or make yourself feel bad or I don’t even know. But it’s enough. You’re acting like a kid who got her favorite toy taken away,” he said quietly.

You could tell he was trying his best to stay cool, but his words had the opposite effect on you. He had hit the bullseye with that one. That ache in your chest grew more intense, strong enough to push a fresh wave of tears up into your eyes. 

“How dare you. You think you’re the toy? That’s rich,” you spat bitterly.

His brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he said.

You tugged your wrist away hard to get free, but you didn’t go anywhere. You stepped forward, closing the minuscule amount of distance left between the two of you.

“You used me, Jason. You played with me until you got bored,” you choked out. “You didn’t have a problem being around me when I let you fuck me whenever you felt like it, but the second I wanted a little more, you just threw me away.”

“That’s not true,” he said, not even taking a moment to consider. It was an immediate defense.

“It’s not? Really? You know it is,” you seethed. “You try to act like you’re so much better than me, like I’m so pathetic, but you’re just as bad. You’re pathetic. You protect people for a living, but really, you watch out for yourself. You take what you want from people, and then leave when it gets hard for you.”

“Really?” he hissed. As if the two of you were magnetized, he seemed to be drifting further into your personal space with every moment that passed. The only thing keeping him quiet was the potential of causing a public scene. “That’s what you think? That I take? That I don’t care?” he asked.

“I know you don’t,” you said, simple and petulant but with enough force to wound.

Quicker than you could blink, the hand that was on your wrist pulled hard and began dragging you to the hotel’s front exit. You stumbled along behind Jason. For the sake of your dignity, you put on a show of resisting a little. 

He didn’t even seem to register it. The two of you continued through the lobby without incident. Attendants stood near the doors, saying goodbye and helping guests with luggage. Their customer-service smiles faltered as Jason blew by with you in tow. The look on his face was enough to ward off any goodnights from anyone.

You nearly tripped as he brought you onto the stone steps out front. The front of your heel snagged on a door stopper, but his strong grip was enough to keep you upright.

“Jason!” you scolded. “Slow down! I wanna avoid face planting and breaking my nose if possible.”

“Keep up then. You didn’t have any problem being fast when you were trying to run off with that little prick,” he said.

Thunder clapped in the sky above. It had started pouring rain some time between when you first entered the venue and now. You were still under part of the entry structure, so the water wasn’t hitting you yet. It was getting closer with each one of Jason’s forceful strides. You could see it smacking against the ground several yards away.

“Where are we even going?” you asked.

“Where do you think? To the car. Dick should have it back from valet by now,” he said. “You’re going home, and then you’re going to your room.”

You knew he said it on purpose. He phrased it like that to rile you up, to poke at you. But it worked nonetheless.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” you snapped and smacked his bicep with the back of your free hand as hard as you could.

Your hardest was nothing to him though. He whipped around faster than any human should be able to and grabbed your jaw.

“Do it again, and I swear I’ll fucking put you over my shoulder. I’ll carry you to the car kicking and screaming in front of all your daddy’s friends,” he said.

A chill shot through your body. For once, you didn’t have anything to say. Seeing him like that, jaw flexing, eyes blazing… you didn’t doubt that he would pick you up and cart you off like a bratty little kid if you didn’t listen.

He released your face and turned around, continuing in the direction of the street. The covering above ended in a few paces. Droplets of rain began pelting down on your skin, getting your dress and hair wet.

“This isn’t changing my mind, you know!” you called out to him from behind. Your desire to have the last word won out over self-preservation every time. “Dragging me through the rain, being all mean just cause you can’t handle the truth!”

He didn’t even stop walking to placate you. “Not a single word of what you said was the truth,” he said.

“Just because you don’t like it doesn’t make it not true!”you say. “This is exactly what I was saying! You can’t just have a conversation! You have to feel in control!”

“Shut the fuck up,” he said. His fingers were digging into your arm hard enough to bruise, but he still kept walking. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The curb was coming up fast. You knew he was reaching the boiling point, but you didn’t care. You wanted to keep prodding and picking him apart until he crumbled.

“Of course I don’t. Because nobody can understand the great tragedy that is Jason Todd. We’re all too clueless and naive to know what you’ve been through,” you spat. 

The both of you brushed past the valet drivers like you had the employees inside. Jason briefly glanced at either side of the street to ensure the two of you wouldn’t be mowed down in the middle of this pleasant discussion.

He wasn’t giving you the reaction you wanted though.

“The reality is that you don’t want help, Jason! You act like you’re so irredeemable, like it’s not a choice, but it is! You keep running away and locking everyone out because you’d actually have to improve if you let them in! You’re gonna be alone forever, and it will be all your fault!” you said just as the two of you reached where Dick was waiting in the car across the street.

It was then, beside the sleek metallic black exterior, that he finally, truly cracked. He spun around, one hand clamping over your mouth and one pressing your shoulder to the car. You stared up at him with wide-eyes, taking in what you’d reduced him too.

“Be quiet,” he said. “Just stop fucking talking.”

The pressure on your face wasn’t that hard. Without much effort, you slipped one of your own hands up and pried his off. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he cut you off.

“You think I like pushing you away? That I like not knowing how to let you in?” he asked. His voice sounded strained, almost broken. “Do you think it’s fun for me to watch you get hurt and then tell me what a piece of shit I am? Do you think I want to leave you because I don’t know how to fix anything?! Don’t you think I wish I could be more like Dick? That you came to me as easily as you did him?”

Your heart pounded so hard in your chest that the sound rivaled the storm clouds. Streams of water dribbled down over his face like longer forms of tears. His damp hair stuck to his forehead. He looked like a mess.

“How am I supposed to know any of that if you don’t tell me?!” you asked, your voice cracking in shame a little. “I wasn’t trying to fix you or change you or whatever. I just wanted to be more than a client you tell stories about in the future.”

The argument stalled between you and him. He was breathing heavily, only a little harder than yourself. The pressure on your shoulder eased as his hand slid to the side and flatted against the car window. His other fingers went beneath your chin, tilting your head up. Your noses were less than an inch away.

“I swear…” he mumbled. “You’re such a brat. Think you know everything, but you’re fucking blind if you really believe you mean so little to me.”

There were no words in any language that could convey the emotion that flooded your body. He took your breath away while filling you with the most vigor you’d ever experienced. The dwindling anger in you vanished entirely. You could only think to do one thing.

Your hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him, closing the tiny gap between your lips. He didn’t pull away. His hands fell to your waist, keeping your body as close as physically possible to his.

In the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t the smartest move. You’d already put on quite the show on the way here. The last thing you needed would be someone spotting you across the street and bringing the news to your father that you were making out with some stranger against another one’s car.

But none of that really mattered right now. It couldn’t. Not when you had Jason’s tongue entering your mouth. Not when you were stumbling around to the passenger door. Not when he was groaning against your lips in a way you hadn’t felt in what seemed like eternity.

He popped the door open before falling inside and tugging you on top of him. You slammed it shut behind the two of you, barely making sure your dress was all the way inside before diving in for more kisses.

“Woah, what did I miss?” Dick said from the driver’s seat.

“Shut up and drive the car,” Jason mumbled against your lips.

“I leave you two alone for five minutes, and I swear…” he said. You could hear that smug smile in every word.

The headlights beamed onto the slick road in front of the car. Rain continued knocking against the roof as he put into drive and took off. Dick had the radio on low in the background. The sound of your kisses combined with your and Jason’s breathing muffled it substantially.

You cupped Jason’s jaw, keeping his face level with yours. Your tongue flicked across his lips before delving into the warm cavern of his mouth. A small sigh fanned over your face, warm air that felt cool from the beads of water all over your skin.

He was just as eager as you. His hands stayed on your hips, gripping through the shimmery fabric of your dress. The skirt of it was already riding up from your position, and you were certain he’d have up around your waist in no time.

You ground yourself down on him, rolling your hips a few times in fluid motions. A quiet groan crept up his throat.

“You feeling a little desperate, baby?” he murmured. “Been a whole week since I had you.”

“Mhm,” you whimpered, pressing yourself down on him again.

He gave your ass a quick slap, a bit of encouragement before his fingers dug into the plush flesh. You moaned and dropped your head to his neck. Your lips found refuge in the skin there. You kissed up and down his throat with the same fervor you had for his lips. Little beads of water slid onto your mouth, rolling down from the strands of his hair.

Your teeth scraped over the pulsing artery in his neck. The sting of him wanting reassignment was still scorching inside you, so you wanted to leave some marks on him. Tiny purple flecks he could take with him on his new job.

“You were throwing such a fit… all cause you missed me,” he murmured right beside your ear.

“Cause you were being mean to me,” you corrected.

“Mmmm… that’s right. I guess I was,” he said.

He shifted underneath you, leaning further back into his seat. You chased after him with your wanting mouth. Your hands fell between your body towards his pants. You were more than ready to get to some real making up, but he stopped you short. His fingers clasped around your wrist and tugged it away.

“But it was only cause you were giving me such a hard time.”

He smirked as you whined in disappointment. You tried reaching down again, but like you’d learned many times before, your will was no match for his strength. He flipped you around on his lap with ease so that your back was flush against his chest.

Now his fingers tucked beneath the hem of your dress and yanked it upwards. He bunched the fabric just above your panties, leaving the lacy white exposed.

“You wouldn’t let me apologize, wouldn’t let me leave in peace, said some real nasty stuff to me, tried running off with some other guy,” he whispered, his breath hot on your neck.

“You deserved it,” you huffed as you wriggled in his hold.

Was using the painful events of the past week as foreplay the best way to cope with the ache they left behind? Probably not. But really, all you took away from that was that he sounded a little bit jealous, which had you preening more than anything else.

Jason’s hand slithered down your body to the space between your thighs. His fingers found your clothed cunt with practiced ease, almost muscle memory. He rubbed the thick pads of them over your clit, swirling over the little bud in rough loops.

A moan erupted out of you into the car. Your head flew back against Jason’s shoulder. It wasn’t like you’d been totally celibate since you and Jason fought, but his and Dick’s touches were different from each other. Not better or worse, just different. And you’d been missing Jason’s half of that whole.

In the midst of your ecstasy, Dick reached up towards the rearview mirror and angled it down to get a look at the action.

“Hey,” you whimpered with a little pout.

“What?” he laughed. “You were giving me a hard time too, sweetheart. I deserve a little compensation.”

“That’s right. Let Dick watch. If he’s not taking your side, you know you were pretty bad,” Jason said. 

His freehand came up to paw at your breast. It slid under the top of your dress, getting his palm on your bare skin. Your flesh was smooth as silk, malleable and pliant under his command. He squeezed it nice and tight how you like before his fingers began toying with your nipple.

The car came to a stop at a red light. You kept moving, writhing and squirming on his lap. Your heels came off at some point. They dropped to the floor with one another. Dick watched with his full attention now. His eyes raked over your face and your gyrating torso, your swiveling hips and finally Jason’s digits delving under your panties to get at your pussy.

He didn’t waste time. The tip of his fingers poked at your entrance before the rest of them slid inside. He pumped them in and out. You were wet enough to make it easy, and your arousal only spread with every thrust of his wrist.

You mewled, arching your back off his chest. Your eyes rolled back so hard you thought you saw the headrest behind you.

“You're lucky these windows are tinted, princess. Otherwise you’d be giving the car next to us a real show,” Jason teased.

Your walls spasmed around his fingers. You turned your head to the side, lazily glancing out the window with half-lidded eyes. The vehicle to your right had a man and a woman around your parents' age. They sat with their eyes on the signal ahead, waiting for it to flip over from red to green. Both of them remained completely oblivious to the scene stopped beside them.

“Would you like that, baby? Everyone seeing how bad you want me, how desperate you get without me taking care of you for a little while?” he breathed. “How pretty you look when you’re all worked up?”

To go along with his words, his hand left your chest and crept towards the button to open the window. It took your brain a couple of seconds to register what the movement actually meant.

“Jason!” you whined, bucking your hips and grabbing his hand away.

Both him and Dick laughed. His arm snuck around you, pulling you close as could be.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he said. “No one else gets to see that. Just me and Dick.”

“Just you and Dick,” you repeated with a faint nod.

Your body melted against his radiating warmth. You relaxed again, letting the pleasure overtake you once again. He was rubbing you just right. The heel of his palm ground on your sensitive clit while his two fingers continued to curl inside of you.

You were fast approaching the edge. Your breaths came quicker, your limbs got more fidgety. But just as you began to crest that high, the light beaming into the car swapped to green. With the red went your pleasure, fizzling out as his fingers pulled away.

“Jason!” you said again in that same whiny tone. You tried to smack his arm, but he was quick enough to block.

“What?” he teased, pecking at your neck and cheek.

In the haze of a lost orgasm, you struggled to get the words out. You looked to Dick for help, but his eyes were back on the road. He tutted, sensing your indignant look.

“Ah-ah. You didn’t want my help, remember?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you whined. Your bottom lip started to puff out into your signature look. “Can’t you guys gimme a break this one time. I was upset too, y’know…”

Jason let out a breathy laugh behind your ear. “Yeah, you were,” he said softly between a few more kisses.

His hand made its way back down to your center and stayed there for the remainder of the drive. He kept you on the edge, bringing you close enough just to teeter but not actually finish. It drove you crazy in the best way.

You didn’t even notice your surroundings as Dick turned off of the main road and pulled into the parking lot for your building. It only dawned on you that you were back home when he shut the car off and the engine went quiet. 

Jason pulled his hand from your panties again, this time for good. Your head floated off his shoulder and glanced around. By now, your legs felt as wobbly as a baby deer and your head was spinning without the constant rush that had been coursing through you for the last twenty minutes.

Even though you hadn’t cum, the same sort of needy longing welled up inside you while looking between the two of them. Jason was just grinning at your little stupor while Dick had a bit more fondness written on his face.

You couldn’t help it. Before you knew what was happening, you were crawling over the center console into Dick’s lap. Your arm wrapped around his neck and your lips peppered kisses all across his face.

“I’m sorry I was giving you a hard time,” you mumbled. Jason being mad at you was one thing — almost a natural stage in the cycle of your relationship at this point — but Dick having any sort of negative feeling towards you? Dick who was so sweet and caring and everything you needed whenever you needed it? That could not stand.

He chuckled, his lips curving into a smile under all your affection. “That’s alright,” he said softly. “You were just having a shitty day. It happens.”

“Not to you,” you said, only half-joking.

“To me too.” He smiled. 

On the opposite side of the car, the passenger door popped open and Jason got out, the straps of your heels hooked around his index finger. He ducked back in, giving you two a look that suggested he wanted to move things along.

“You got her?” he asked.

Dick nodded in return.

The door slammed shut, and his hands rubbed up and down your back. “You wanna walk or…”

“Or.” You nodded.

Returning one of your small kisses, he opened the driver door. He shifted you off his lap before stepping out. You watched him move, admired how the nearby lamppost cast a glow over his fluffy hair and striking features, ogled how his arms flexed as he fixed the skirt of your dress.

After he deemed your appearance suitable if anyone happened to spot you on the way in, he lifted you from the seat and nudged the door shut. He held you like a princess while walking to the sleek entrance of your building, and with the stars sparkling overhead, he looked the part of prince charming.

You let your head fall back over his arm as the three of you headed in towards the elevator. The doorman nodded at Dick and Jason as they passed with you. You doubted anything they saw would get back to your father, but just in case, you’d rather have them report that you’d had one too many at the event than the fact that you were making out, ready to fuck both of your bodyguards as soon as the elevator struck floor 70.

Once those doors shut to give you three the privacy of the cabin, you were squirming out of Dick’s arms onto your feet. You reached up towards Jason, pulling him down to your mouth in a hasty exchange. Your other arm reached back for Dick though, still wanting him close.

He was happy to oblige. His lips found your neck and planted soft pecks all over the area that spanned from your ear to the strap of your dress. 

You hadn’t had both of them on you in what felt like an eternity, and now it was like reentering heaven. Hands gripped your hips, felt up your ass, rubbed across your stomach. You couldn’t keep track of what limb belonged to who, but that was fine.

As soon as that delicate chime resounded through the small square space, the three of you stumbled into the penthouse. You didn’t have a specific destination in mind. In all honesty, you would have been content to do it right there on the entry floor.

But they guided you down the hall and into the living room. Your palms found the back of the couch. You used the smooth surface for balance while they continued their dual efforts. Jason still had command of your mouth while Dick had moved his attention elsewhere. His nimble fingers took hold of the zipper on the back of your dress, working it down with ease.

That shimmery silver fabric parted to reveal your spine. He hooked his digits around one strap and then the other, slipping them off in tandem and leaving you there in your pristine white lingerie.

“You knew we were gonna be making up, wearing something this pretty,” Jason mumbled as he lightly snapped the hem of your panties against your skin.

“Nuh uh. I’m always this pretty. You should be used to it by now,” you said with a little smile.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grabbed a handful of your ass cheek before giving it a firm smack.

Dick’s hand laced with one of yours and began pulling you around the end of the sectional so that you all were on the side of the seats. You plopped down, leaning back and showing off a little for them.

The view didn’t go unappreciated. Their eyes traced over about every inch of your frame while undoing their ties and shrugging off their suit jackets. You took the time to pull off your panties and kick them aside.

Jason finished undressing first and sat down beside you. His hands grabbed your waist and tugged you on top of him. Your thighs spread across the width of his meaty legs.

“You want me first tonight?” he asked, reaching down between the both of you to stroke his cock. He swiped his thumb over the tip. A bead of precum followed, a pearly drop he smeared on your soaked folds.

You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment before answering. “I want both of you first…” you say tentatively.

His brows raised, but you could see in his eyes he was far from opposed to your suggestion.

“You want both? At the same time.”

You nodded.

“You think you’re ready for that?” he asked, almost teasing. “That’s a lot, especially for someone like you. You get overwhelmed so easily.”

Your face heated up, especially cause he had a stupid smirk on his. With a little scoff, you nodded again.

“I want it. I want all of you while I have you. Don’t wanna waste any time waiting for anything.”

Your fingers caressed over the muscular swell of his biceps, a distraction from the sentiment hidden within your words. Jason sensed it too. You knew without even looking. His hold got slightly softer, he stopped rubbing the head of his cock over your slit for a moment. But instead of dwelling on it, he looked beyond your shoulder.

“You hear that, Dick? You think she’s ready for two at the same time?”

You felt the feather-light touch of Dick’s fingers on your shoulders before he even responded. They massaged your muscles, swirling around as he leaned down to kiss the skin next to your ear.

“If that’s what she wants,” he said. “You know I have a hard time giving her anything but.”

It was hard not to squirm under all the attention, but you managed to stay composed. You planted your palms on Jason’s chest and gave him a subtle set of puppy eyes, just for good measure in case he wasn’t sold on the idea yet.

But his velvety tip slotted at your entrance again. He pushed up a little, just to tease the idea of popping inside.

“You gotta hold still, alright? No moving around or trying to help out,” he said.

You nodded again just as he slid a couple inches of his length inside. Your lips rounded out as the familiar stretch hit you. You wanted so badly to sink down, to take more until you were settled on his lap, but he just told you not to move.

Luckily, he acted for you. His hands clasped around your hips and brought you down until he was fully sheathed inside of you. He kept you there for a moment before rocking you up and down a couple of times.

Your head fell back, only for the sight of Dick smiling down at you to fill your vision. He pet one side of your head, his fingers curling to cup your face while his other set ventured South. Jason had you still now. His hips did all the moving so Dick would have the opportunity to open you up.

His thumb was the first thing you felt. He rubbed it on your puckered entrance. You couldn’t help it, how your eyes widened a little. Both at the same time. It was really gonna happen.

“Tell me to stop if you feel anything you don’t like,” Dick said softly, planting a kiss on your forehead and then dropping into a crouch to focus his attention down there.

His thumb left you, but just for his tongue to replace it. You squealed at the wet sensation, your hips jerking involuntarily.

Jason’s hands tightened around you. “Fuck, she’s liking it so far,” he hissed as your walls fluttered around his cock.

Dick chuckled from behind you and then really went for it. You leaned forward onto Jason’s chest, giving him ample space to work.

He stayed down there for a little while. You couldn’t be sure how long — time was never easy to gauge in situations like this. He worked with a mix of his fingers and tongue. At first it felt weird. You’d never say it hurt, but it just felt odd. But as time passed and he stretched you further, you found yourself opening up to the possibility of this working.

Jason continued pumping in and out of you all the while. He kept his pace slow, not wanting to finish too early. His shallow thrusts gave you short bursts of pleasure. Enough to keep you somewhere in the middle of satisfaction and wanting.

You were hanging onto the edge when you finally felt a thicker nudge against your back entrance. Dick’s smooth hand rubbed over the length of your spine.

“Just relax for me, baby,” he said.

He slid himself up and down your crack a few times before finally inching in. Your nails dug into Jason’s chest and your toes curled. You squished your cheek against his skin. It wasn’t bad enough for you to tap out, but it was definitely more intense than a few fingers.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he murmured against your hair. His thrusts even came to a halt, letting you focus entirely on adjusting.

“You’re doing so good,” Dick praised. His voice sounded so strained. You wondered how different it felt for him.

He pushed forward until you let out a little pained squeak. Then he paused. He stayed there and drew back before working in again. Once he finally got most of himself in, he stopped for real. Both of them kept completely still, just allowing you to take in being full of both of them.

“How’re you doing? Is it feeling good yet?” Jason asked softly.

You nodded faintly against him, keeping your head pressed to his body. The beat of his heart under your head helped ground you.

“You feel so fucking good,” Dick sighed.

“You can start moving if you wanna…” you said.

“You sure?” they both said, a rare moment where they sounded totally in sync.

“Yeah,” you reaffirmed.

“You got it then. Always getting what you want,” Jason teased gently as he began working his hips once more.

Dick started a few seconds after him. He went a little slower, letting you get used to the movement. You mewled at the stretch, but it wasn’t painful like before. Along with Jason’s cock distracting you, it didn’t feel bad. You kind of started to like it.

Both of them kept firm grips on the flesh of your hips in different places. Dick’s thumbs pet stripes down the curve of your ass as his hips.

“So, so good for us,” he murmured with a squeeze. “So perfect.”

And praise came from Jason too, more freely than you’d ever heard it flow from his lips.

“Our pretty baby,” he cooed. “This is all you needed. To know we want you. To feel how much we need you.”

You nodded with a shuddery gasp, your head bobbing up and down lazily. Their rhythms were practically inverses of each other. When one went in, the other slid out. You were completely full for fleeting moments but never totally empty.

After a little while, it was more than you could take. You melted onto Jason’s chest, half-heartedly grabbing at him in a bid for some sort of stability. He held you closer with one arm across your shoulder blades and used his other hand for more leverage on your hips to pump his cock deeper inside you.

Every brush of his tip against your sweet spot drew you closer to release. Your eyes fluttered and warmth flooded every inch of your body.

“I’m right there with you, princess. Come on. Let go for me,” he said.

The rumble of his voice coaxing you to the edge worked almost as well as his physical touch. Your muscles tensed up before you felt that euphoric burst inside. A loud moan poured out of you onto his chest. You rolled your hips on him, unable to stop yourself from ignoring his previous directions.

It didn’t matter though. Dick pulled himself out of you a second later. You heard a couple soft grunts and then felt the warm splash of his cum on your back.

Jason came inside you. He buried himself all the way to the hilt before letting go with a loud groan. His neck flexed while the muscles in his arms twitched. You would have really admired the sight if you weren’t so fucked out yourself.

The three of you all came down at a similar rate. Dick slumped down to sit near the both of you on the couch. He ran a hand through his hair as he caught his breath. You slowly rolled off of Jason and sprawled out across a few cushions.

Silence filled the room around you, but for the first time all week, it wasn’t awkward. You were totally content not speaking right now. There wasn’t some void waiting to be filled. Rather, you were content with only their presence.

Jason was the first to get up. He slowly rose from the comfort of the couch. You watched lazily as he headed in the direction of the stairs. For a second, your stomach twisted with anxiety. Had you let yourself be used again so easily?

But he came back not even a full minute later with a water bottle and a rag to clean you up. Dick slid closer, not one to leave you hanging either. He took the damp cloth from Jason’s hand and brought it down between your legs and over your back.

You laid there and let them tend to you without a word until Jason carefully guided you upright. He tilted the now-open bottle against your lips, getting you to take a couple swallows of the cool liquid.

“Take it easy, pretty girl,” he said softly.

A bead of water rolled down from your lips onto your chin as he pulled the bottle away. You wiped it off with your index finger, your eyes flitting between the both of them.

While you may have patched things up, they still weren’t entirely normal. You were in a weird sort of limbo right now, just waiting to see what they would decide to do next.

Jason leaned in to plant a barely-there kiss on your temple. You took his large hand in your own, clasping your fingers around the warm flesh. “I’m gonna go put some clothes on,” he said.

He stood up and headed towards the stairs again, this time to actually leave the room. Your hands trailed down his skin, lingering on his fingertips before finally letting him go.

You contemplated your next move for a moment before turning to Dick. You took his hand as you’d done to Jason’s and gave it a squeeze.

He met it with that small smile of his. Reaching out, the bows of his fingers coasted over your cheek.

“You feeling better than before?” he asked.

You responded with a nod, determined for that to be the absolute truth.

“Good,” he said.

You stood up from the couch next and began picking up the clothing that was strewn about the area. He helped you out, picking his own garments and a couple of Jason’s. Together you both took them upstairs to your room.

While there, you put on a pair of fresh clothes, just a t-shirt and some shorts. Nothing too extravagant. You were too tired for that. 

Dick followed suit, pulling on some sweats to lounge around in. He flopped back onto your mattress and opened his arms for you.

You smiled and looked away playfully. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna get myself some more water.”

“Don’t be too long,” he teased.

“Don’t be impatient,” you said, in the same lilted tone.

You shut your bedroom door behind you and made your way across the walkway. On the path there, you just happened to notice. Jason’s door was shut. Seeing that stung a little bit. Maybe you hadn’t mended things as well as you thought.

But you forced yourself to shake off the impending doom and gloom. Even if things weren’t perfect, they were a step closer to better. It might take time. You had patience, just like you’d told him. He was worth the effort.

Once you reached the kitchen, you did fill up a glass of water for yourself, but you didn’t head back up to your room immediately. Instead, you drifted towards the balcony doors. It was dark out there, the horizon so vast it made you feel as if the wind could sweep you up and carry you away.

You unlatched the lock and cracked the door open, stepping outside. The night air instantly sent a chill across your exposed skin. The wind nipped at your legs and sliced over your forearms. You wrapped them around your torso for some semblance of warmth.

Despite the wind, it was quiet out here. The city was lit up down below, but you couldn’t hear the noise of it. You approached the railing, still a step or two away from actually touching the barrier.

The fresh air filled your lungs. For the first time in days, you didn’t feel wound up about something. Things had settled with Jason, you knew Dick wasn’t upset with you, and you honestly couldn’t care less about the things your father had said earlier.

You wished you could be like this all the time. Serene and tranquil, not so reactionary, lashing out at the slightest deviation to your wishes.

The door opened and clicked into place again behind you. You spun around, heart beating fast, but it was only Jason.

“Hey…” he said, taking a few tentative steps in your direction.

“Hi…” You took a couple in his as well.

You met in the middle, equidistant from the glass doors and the steel railing. Your eyes met his. A silent exchange passed between the two of you, one without words or even coherent thoughts, just raw emotion.

His arm came out before you could say a word. He looped it over your shoulders and brought you in to his chest.

“Thought you never came out here?” he asked.

Your hand curled around his bicep. “I just felt like it tonight.”

Another few seconds went by with the wind doing all the talking. But he didn’t let things stall for too long.

“I went to your room. Dick told me you were getting water.”

“Why’d you go there?” you asked quietly. Your fingers swirled little patterns on his arm while hope bloomed in your chest.

“Maybe I wanted to be in there with you two tonight…” he said, so soft and faint as if he was forced to confess it.

“Just for tonight?” you whispered, tilting your head up to see him clearly. “Will it be your last?”

“No,” he said back. A simple answer, but the only one you needed all the same. He wasn’t leaving. Not yet anyways.

You squeezed your arms tighter around him, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath of his air.

“You can always be in there. Whenever you want,” you said.

“Good. I’m gonna hold you to that for the next few weeks.”

The next few weeks. A dreadful reminder that your relationship rested upon the foundation of an ever-ticking clock. It didn’t matter right now though. Not while he was in your arms, telling you he wanted you back. You could worry about what would happen down the line in January when it came.

“Let’s start right now then.” You stepped back and took his hand, leading him back inside and up to the bedroom. In there, with both of them, time wouldn’t matter. Other assignments or obligations would have no effect. You could bury yourself in the mess of pillows and blankets, happy that you had managed to turn things around just this once.

[retro-ivy]

"If we die, I'm going to spend the rest of our afterlife reminding you that this was all your fault."

"That's cool, I wouldn't mind having company while being a ghost."

With Hangman, please and thank you🥰

You stared across the darkened elevator at the green eyed Texan who just flashed that perfect smile back at you. It had been what felt like days stuck in this elevator when it all reality it was probably no more than an hour or two.

That was far too long than you wanted to spend in the presence of Hangman. The man who managed to irritate every last one of your nerves. And you were pretty sure st this point he enjoyed it.

It was his fault you guys were stuck in this elevator. It was an old, rickety thing. One that likely had very little maintenance since the day it was put in. You barely took it but your legs were still burning from your workout the day before and you had opted to take the easy way up the stairs.

Unfortunately for you, Hangman decided he need to take the elevator at the same time. While the elevator plaque said it was capable of carrying upwards of six-hundred pounds, the way it croaked and groaned when it went to lift you both up had you thinking otherwise.

An opinion you had voiced out to Hangman who insisted the two of you were fine and then jumped as high and as hard as he could to try and prove his point. Of which he failed when the elevator suddenly stopped and the doors refused to budge open.

“If we die in this fucking elevator I’m haunting your ass in the afterlife.” You grumbled over towards from your spot on the elevator floor.

Hangman just shrugged. “Fine with me, at least you’ll be the prettiest company a ghost could have.”

You didn’t bother responding to that with anything more than an eye roll.

A few more moments of silence passed before Jake’s voice cut through again.

“How long are you goin’ to keep up this ‘I hate Hangman’ charade?” You gave another eye roll.

“It’s not a charade.”

“Sure about that? Didn’t seem like you hated me much last night when you were begging for cuddles after I fucked you dumb.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. And sure as shit when you finally did look at him there it was. That signature shit eating grin plastered across his face.

It was at that moment the lights flickered back on and the elevator started moving again. As if your life depended on it, you scrambled to your feet.

“Shut up!” You huffed a little flustered at him for even bringing that up loudly enough someone could have heard. If they’d had their ear pressed against the elevator doors, maybe.

No one else on the team, or anyone at all really, needed to know that you’d been dating Hangman. Partly because you’d hated him for so long you weren’t quite ready to admit that he wasn’t anywhere near as bad as you’d originally thought. And partly because you didn’t want it to have any negative effects on this mission.

Jake just chuckled and shook his head. “See you at home, sweetheart.” He murmured against your temple as he kissed it.

“See you at home, flyboy.” You whispered back, placing your own kiss to his cheek. Both of you entirely unaware that Rooster had witnessed the exchange.

[retro-ivy]

she is me

[retro-ivy]

dirty laundry (two) ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: after a couple months of living together, you're still completely oblivious to how you affect jake and he's starting to spiral because now he's... feeling things

see PART ONE for the first half of this fic + author's notes, warnings, etc...

word count: 22046 (section two, 11909)

Jake doesn’t see you when you get home from lunch with Natasha—he’s already at Lana’s place. Or maybe it’s Lila? He’s not sure. He just knows it started with an L.

After washing two loads of your laundry—moving one from the dryer to your bed and the other into the dryer—he got a text from Lola saying she got off work early. So, naturally, he was on his way there within minutes.

Four rounds later—and one very close call where he almost said your name instead of Lily’s—he showered in her cramped little bathroom, got dressed, and drove home. Feeling a thousand times better than when he left. Thoroughly satisfied. And only a tiny bit guilty about what he’d done to himself earlier… while staring at your lingerie like a fucking perv.

That is, until he walks through the door and sees you—pantless again—bent over the kitchen counter in nothing but an oversized shirt, Chinese takeout menu in hand.

But not just any shirt. No. His shirt.

His.

“Oh, hey.” You straighten immediately, tugging the hem of the shirt down over your ass. “Sorry, didn’t think you’d be home yet. Want Chinese? I’ll go put some pants on.”

Before he can even blink, you’re gone—down the hall and into your bedroom.

You return a moment later in a loose pair of sleep shorts, smiling down at your phone like some idiot in love.

And something about that makes Jake want to roll his eyes.

“How was lunch?” he asks, picking up the takeout menu like he doesn’t already know exactly what he’s getting.

“Good,” you reply, eyes still glued to your screen. “Had fun.”

He nods even though you’re not looking and drops the menu back on the bench. “I’ll get the—”

“Beef and broccoli,” you interrupt, glancing up with a smirk. “And kung pao chicken. Side of steamed rice, vegetarian spring rolls. Extra soy sauce packets, two fortune cookies, and a Diet Coke.”

Jake’s heart leaps in his chest, skipping into an uneven rhythm as he just stares at you—brow furrowed, lips slightly parted. A mix of awe and confusion flickers across his face because… how do you know that? How do you know him that well?

Sure, it’s just a takeout order. But still. You knew. Without hesitation.

And there you are, standing in his shirt—his fucking shirt—looking like the most gorgeous woman on the planet, and God, he’s about to lose his damn mind.

He clears his throat, letting out what he hopes passes as an easy chuckle. “You’re good.”

You pretend to dramatically flip your hair off your shoulder. “I know. Now go pick a movie. I’ll order.”

He hesitates for a beat, watching as you grab the menu and start dialling the restaurant’s number into your phone. Then he shakes his head and moves into the living room, dropping into his usual spot on the couch.

An hour later, after scrolling through every single streaming app the squad collectively pays for, Jake finally settles on an old action movie you both know he’s seen a hundred times. But you also both know it’s his unspoken comfort film, and—thankfully—you don’t say anything. You just keep eating your Chinese food, eyes flicking between the TV and your relentlessly buzzing phone.

“That Justin?” Jake asks through a mouthful of beef.

You nod. “Yeah. Sorry. I can turn the vibration off if it’s annoying.”

Jake shakes his head. “It’s fine.” He swallows, watching as several more messages pop up in quick succession. “Wow. Guy’s not just a double-texter—he’s a quadruple-texter.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing. Some women like communication. In fact, I’d argue that most do.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles. “You gonna like it when he’s banging on your door at two a.m. like a creepy stalker?”

You frown. “How does texting a few times in a row immediately equal stalking?”

“Because he’s clearly obsessed with you,” Jake says with a shrug. “And after one date? Kinda a red flag. I’d expect that level of energy after six months—maybe—not one night.”

You narrow your eyes. “Maybe I’m just that good.”

Jake laughs, low and quiet, eyes dropping to his bowl of beef and broccoli. “No pussy is that good.”

You snort—loudly. The sound is abrupt and completely unladylike, but Jake can’t help the way his eyes flick up to the giddy smile on your lips, the light blush creeping into your cheeks.

“Guess you’ll never know,” you say, eyes sparkling with amusement.

What he wouldn’t give to know...

“Guess I won’t,” he mutters, shovelling another forkful of food into his mouth.

After a beat, you glance back over at him. “How was your day, anyway?”

He freezes mid-chew, eyes widening as heat crawls up the back of his neck.

“It—uh—it was good. Yeah. Fine. Why?”

You shrug. “Just wondering. Thanks for doing my laundry, by the way.”

He nods, clearing his throat. “Anytime.”

“Except I think this is your shirt,” you add, glancing down at yourself.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “It is. Sorry. Must’ve mixed some stuff up.”

“All good,” you say, light and casual—seemingly oblivious to the guilt scrawled across his face. “It’s comfy.”

He gives you a tight smile, eyes snapping back down to spear another floret of broccoli.

“Except I think you need to give it a hot wash,” you add.

His eyes flick back up, cheeks already burning. “Why?”

You pinch the hem of the shirt and rub the fabric between your fingers. “There’s a hard stain near the bottom, but I can’t tell what it is.”

Jake’s breath catches, lungs going tight.

You glance back up at him. “Did you spill maple syrup on it or something?”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, heart pounding. “Yep. Maple syrup. This morning. Sorry.”

You frown, clearly dubious. “It’s fine. Not my shirt, remember? Besides, a hot wash will get that right out.”

He nods, shifting the bowl in his lap and praying to whatever god might listen to please, please reroute his blood flow. “Noted. Hot wash.”

You nod slowly, giving him a suspicious look before finally turning back to your dinner.

Once you’ve both finished dinner, Jake takes the dishes into the kitchen and washes up, glancing at the movie over his shoulder as it plays. When it ends, you grab the remote and declare that it’s your turn to pick the next film.

By the time he returns to the couch, you’re curled up right in the middle of it, leaving just a sliver of space on either side.

Which is fine. Totally and completely fine.

He grabs a blanket from the basket in the corner and drops down beside you, draping it over both your legs.

“Thanks,” you say with a soft smile. “Didn’t know you knew how to be sweet.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond. He’s not sure what he could say to that. Because, yeah. Jake didn’t know he could be sweet either.

Eventually, you settle on some spy-romance-thriller and toss the remote onto the coffee table before nestling in. You adjust the blanket and fluff the pillows until you’re perfectly comfortable. Jake watches, a little fascinated, and doesn’t even realise he’s staring until you shoot him a look.

“What?”

He blinks. “Nothing, sorry. Daydreaming.”

“Was your date that good you’re still thinking about her?” you ask with a soft laugh.

He frowns. “Date?”

“Sorry,” you amend. “Your hookup. Because I know, I know—Jake Seresin doesn’t date.”

“Exactly,” he says, giving you a little wink.

You pause, lifting a brow. “So... was it good?”

“What?”

You roll your eyes. “Your hookup. Jesus, where is your head at tonight?”

Still stuck on your dirty laundry, apparently.

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah. It was fine. Did the job.”

You scoff. “Did the job?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. That’s all I wanted. Bit of fun.”

You nod slowly, eyes narrowing like you’re trying to read his mind.

“You know,” he adds, “not every woman is out there hunting for Mr. Right. Some are more than happy with a Mr. Right Now. It’s easy. Fun. And you don’t have to worry about texting them the next day.”

Your brows shoot up. “Is that a dig at me?”

He chuckles quietly, glancing toward the forgotten movie. “Maybe.”

“Wow,” you say slowly, dry and sarcastic. “Well, Mr. Right Now, maybe you should watch what you say. Because one day, you’re going to fall in love. And it’s not going to be pretty. You’ll fall so hard and fast, you’ll forget your own name—and that’ll be karma for all the one-night stands and broken hearts you’ve left behind.”

He turns his head toward you, his expression flat even as the corner of his mouth twitches. “That so?”

You nod, firm. “Yep.”

“When that day comes, I’ll let you know,” he says, laughing quietly. “And I’ll apologise for being a dick. Maybe even take back what I said about your creepy stalker boyfriend. But don’t come crying to me when you find him breathing on your window in the middle of the night.”

Your eyes go wide, lips parting in disbelief, but the amusement still shines through. “Dude!”

He laughs again as you sit up, fully turning toward him.

“What?”

You gape at him, scandalised. Then you reach out and smack him on the shoulder—hard.

“Ow!” he barks, half laughing, half offended. “The hell was that for?”

“For being a dick!”

You go to hit him again, but Jake catches your wrist mid-air. “Uh-uh,” he grins. “Not happening twice.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge, immediately swinging your other hand at him.

He catches that one too—easily—and in the same breath, he moves. Forward and up.

Shoving you onto your back like it’s nothing. Effortless.

Then he’s above you, pinning both your wrists above your head. The blanket is tangled somewhere beneath you, one of your knees brushing the outside of his thigh—and he’s close. Too close.

Every part of him is closer than you’ve ever been. His face hovers over yours, his chest inches from your breasts, his hips nearly aligned with yours. If he moved—just a fraction—he could press his half-hard dick right into the apex of your thighs.

Your chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. Eyes frantic. Searching his face like you might find some kind of answer for whatever just snapped and turned the air to static.

His grip isn’t rough, but it’s firm. Certain. Unshakable. His gaze flicks between your mouth and your eyes like he can’t decide which is more dangerous.

“Still wanna hit me?” he murmurs, voice low, something dark and teasing threading through it.

You swallow. “Maybe.”

His mouth twitches—not quite a smile. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

“So are you,” you breathe.

There’s a beat where neither of you moves. Just heat and tension and the sound of your combined breathing, louder than it should be.

Then—

“Truce,” you say, voice hoarse as you shift your wrists beneath his hands.

Jake hesitates. He wants to stay. Wants to press in, drag that single moment out until it breaks. But he knows. He knows he’s close to the edge, and if he goes any further, he might never come back from it.

So he lets go and sits back slowly, pulse hammering in his throat. “Truce,” he echoes.

You both move until you're upright again. Comfortable, but not really. Not anymore. There’s more distance between you now, but it doesn’t help.

Jake doesn’t reach for the blanket that you’ve stolen. He’s not cold anymore. In fact, he’s thinking about opening a window. Or the balcony door.

Maybe he should just do that—open the door and walk straight off the balcony.

Because now, his cock is throbbing—hard and heavy between his legs, hidden only by the way his knee is bent with one foot on the couch. It's aching. Begging.

For friction. For relief. For you.

The ninety-minute movie feels a hell of a lot longer than that in the stifling lounge room. Jake's raging hard-on barely lets up, and even when it does, you shift or sigh or stretch your neck in a way that makes it start aching again.

By the time the credits roll, Jake is dying to get to bed. He needs to go somewhere—anywhere—that you’re not. Away from your scent, your smile, your soft little laughs. God. He needs space.

“Alright,” you sigh, pushing up off the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

He nods. “Good idea.”

But he doesn’t move. He can’t. Not until you’re gone and he can hide his ridiculous boner.

“Oh,” you call back, halfway down the hall. “I’ll drive myself to base tomorrow.”

He frowns. “Why?”

You always carpool. Same apartment, same squad, same shift. It just makes sense.

“Justin’s coming over tomorrow night, and I don’t want to be late,” you reply. “And, no offence, but I can’t really rely on you to not be kept back.”

He gives you a flat look. “Rude. But whatever.”

You flash him a bright, cheesy smile before quickly ducking into your room. If it weren’t for the blush still clinging to your cheeks, he might think you’d already forgotten about what happened earlier.

But no. Your face is still very red.

And that leaves Jake feeling just a little bit smug as he takes himself—and his tragically horny dick—off to bed.

He barely sleeps all night. He tosses and turns, punching his pillow like that might stop his brain from looping thoughts of you. But every time he shuts his eyes—there you are. Smiling. Laughing. Dancing in the kitchen. Climbing out of your jet with a grin bright enough to eclipse the sun.

You’re stuck in his head. Lodged deep. Making his heart race and his blood flow in one, completely unhelpful, direction.

He wakes up rock hard at 1:27. Then 2:13. Then 3:45. And finally, at 4:36, he gives up entirely. He throws the blankets off, pulls on his gym clothes, and heads to base in the dark.

If he’s going to suffer, he might as well look good doing it.

Thirty minutes of bench, an hour of cardio, and fifteen furious pull-ups later, he still can’t stop picturing the way your tongue caught between your teeth when you giggled at him last night. Or the way your body squirmed beneath him—hips wriggling, wrists twisting—but you were so easy to hold down.

So easy to keep.

God. The things he could do with you pinned beneath him.

By the time Jake finally makes it to the hangar, his whole body is sore, his brain is fried, and he's teetering on the edge of a full-blown mental breakdown.

“Dude,” Javy says as he steps up beside him. “You look awful. Like you haven’t slept in three days. Are you sick?”

Jake shakes his head. “‘M fine. Jus’ tired.”

“Oh wow,” Natasha says, a grin creeping across her lips as she steps in front of them. “He’s regressed to single syllables.”

Javy chuckles. “And he’s slurring. Should we take him to the hospital?”

Jake clears his throat. “I am fine. Alright? Just leave it alone.”

Neither of their knowing smirks falter.

“Well,” Natasha says, eyeing him, her head tilting just slightly. “Judging by that reaction, I’d say you either drank an entire bottle of tequila to yourself last night or... you got rejected by a woman.”

Jake visibly flinches. His green eyes snap to her face, jaw tightening.

Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh my god. It’s the second one.”

“I didn’t—” he starts, but Javy cuts in with a dramatic gasp.

“Oh my God. This is historic,” he announces. “A woman said no to Jake Seresin and he hasn’t recovered.”

Jake turns toward him, arms crossing tightly over his chest. “Nobody got rejected, okay?!”

Natasha scoffs. “So you just happened to get no sleep, show up looking like a kicked puppy, and flinch like that when I mention rejection?”

Javy leans in, eyes comically wide. “And you liked her, didn’t you? That’s the twist. She actually meant something.”

Jake scowls, jaw working. He doesn’t meet either of their eyes.

Natasha whistles under her breath. “Well, shit.”

Javy beams. “This is a world first, ladies and gentlemen. Someone alert the Pentagon. Get a medal minted.”

“I hate both of you,” Jake mutters.

Natasha grins. “You’ll feel better after a flight. Or at least distracted.”

Javy shrugs. “Unless this mystery woman is on base too. Then you’re screwed. Emotionally and professionally.”

Jake doesn’t respond. He doesn’t move. He just stares down the tarmac like he’s hoping it’ll swallow him whole.

Because yeah. The mystery woman—the one who’s messing with his head and making his pulse do weird shit—she’s on base. In fact, she’s walking across the flight line right now.

It isn’t long before Maverick arrives, rounding up the squad and announcing—with a shit-eating grin—that it’s ‘obstacle course day’. Which earns a hearty chorus of groans. But not from Jake, because this? He can do this. It’s work. It’s exercise. It’s a well-needed distraction.

Maverick starts by instructing the squad to jog the quarter-mile stretch from the hangar to the training field as a light warm-up—boots crunching on gravel, the sun barely up over the bay. Jake keeps his eyes forward, jaw tight. He can hear you somewhere behind him, chatting—somewhat breathlessly—with Natasha, but he doesn't dare look. He can’t. Not if he wants to stay focused.

Once you all reach the field, Maverick starts barking about how the conditioning course will be run. Then he tells everyone to lose their flight suits and warm up properly.

“Valkyrie!” he shouts after a few jumping jacks. “Quit talking. Focus up.”

You clamp your mouth shut and give Natasha a subtle sidelong glance. Jake’s not stupid—he knows that means you’ll finish telling her whatever you were saying later. Probably something about Justin.

After a thirty-minute warm-up, everyone gets ready to start. The shit-talking begins, and the sun slowly rises, bathing the training field in warm orange light.

Jake is ready—so ready. His gaze is narrowed, his limbs loose, and he’s excited to do something other than jerk off and think about you, goddamnit. He’s excited to do something he’s good at. To show off a little. Because this obstacle course? He eats this shit for breakfast.

Or at least, he used to.

Rope climb, monkey bars, vertical walls, balance beams—he’s usually halfway through his second lap by the time everyone else finishes one. But today?

Today, he misses the jump onto the cargo net.

He slips on the damn rope wall.

He lands wrong coming off the balance beam and has to catch himself with a sharp hiss through his teeth.

“Jesus, Hangman,” Mav calls out from the sidelines, brows raised. “You drunk?”

Jake doesn’t answer. He just resets and pushes off again, heart hammering harder than it should be. His palms are slick and his jaw aches from how tightly he’s clenching it. He feels like one big bruise, and he knows he’s going to feel this shit for the next two weeks.

Reuben jogs past and claps him on the shoulder, grinning. “Careful, man. You keep biffing it like this and they’re going to revoke your golden boy status.”

Jake forces a laugh through his teeth, but it’s tight. Shaky.

He’s fine. He just didn’t sleep. He just... pushed too hard at the gym. He just—

His eyes flick sideways.

You’re across the course, waiting your turn, chest heaving, sweat dripping down your neck. You’re smiling at something Bradley said, adjusting your gloves as you watch the others ahead of you.

You’re not even looking at him.

With a light shake of his head, Jake turns his gaze ahead and—

Misses the next rung on the monkey bars.

“God dammit,” he mutters under his breath, dropping to the ground.

Javy stops nearby, eyebrows raised. “Dude. What is going on with you today?”

Jake doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even have words for the pressure building behind his ribs—like a grenade with the pin pulled halfway out. Everything’s too loud. Too hot. Too much. You’re everywhere. In his head. Under his skin. Burned into his eyes.

He’s not flustered. He doesn’t get flustered.

He’s just... distracted. Yeah. That’s all.

He grits his teeth and tries again. Then gets halfway before slipping—again. His hand slams into the rung too late, and he stumbles forward, barely catching himself before eating shit in front of everyone.

“Focus up, Hangman!” Mav barks. “You’re better than this!”

Jake bites the inside of his cheek until it stings. His lungs burn. His arms feel like they’re made of lead.

Across the course, Natasha slows, watching him quietly. Her brow creases just slightly.

Her sharp eyes follow his line of sight and easily catch the way his gaze flicks toward you—quick, but not quick enough.

Her head tilts.

“Interesting,” she mutters to herself.

She picks up her pace and moves through the course with practiced ease, quickly joining Jake where he’s crumpled beneath the monkey bars.

“Pull it together, cowboy,” she says. “Don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your mystery girl.”

Jake’s stomach drops.

What the fuck?

His wide eyes meet hers, brown and sparkling with mischief.

“What did you just say?” he asks, voice hoarse.

She grins wickedly. “Nothing, Bagman. Now get up before Mav sees you slacking off again.”

His heart beats faster than it should. Too fast. Too heavy.

How does she know? She can’t know.

There’s nothing to know.

You’re just his roommate. A friend. A pain in the ass. That’s all.

He just needs to sort his head out.

He just needs to stop thinking about your body under his. Your laugh in his ears. Your wrists in his hands.

With a quiet growl, Jake pushes himself up and resets. Then he lurches forward, fingers grasping for the bar—but he misses. By half an inch.

The day couldn’t be over fast enough. Everyone is breathless and sweaty by the time Maverick dismisses the squad, but no one is as battered and bruised as Jake. He feels like he’s been thrown out of a moving truck—and run over for good measure. Everything hurts.

“Hey,” you say quietly, almost carefully, as you approach him. “You alright?”

You’ve got your bag over your shoulder and your sunglasses perched on your head. Ready to leave base. To go home and wait for Justin to come over.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “just tired today. That’s all.”

You nod slowly, the corner of your lips twitching. “You—uh, you took quite the beating out there.”

He can’t help but smile at you and the way you’re trying so hard not to laugh at his shitty day. “I know. Thought I’d let someone else get best time for once.”

You arch a brow. “Really? You decided to let the whole squad make better time than you?”

He chuckles softly, letting his head fall back. “The whole squad beat me? Well, shit, baby, I guess I gotta step up my game next time.”

He freezes, and you do too, both of you just staring at each other as that little pet name hangs between you like a held breath.

He clears his throat. “Uh... I mean, y’know, gotta bring my A-game next time.”

You nod slowly, letting out a soft, uncertain laugh. “Yeah. You better. Or Mav might kick you off the squad.”

Silence hangs, thick and heavy. Jake wants to say something—make a joke or a snarky remark—but his voice is caught somewhere deep in his chest.

“Seresin,” Javy interrupts, clapping a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “You almost done, or...?”

He steps up beside the two of you, eyes darting back and forth as his brow knits. He's not stupid. He can clearly sense that there's something painfully awkward hanging in the air.

You raise your brows and take an unsteady step back. “I was just going to say, let me know if you’re home for dinner. I’m making nachos, but I always make way too—”

“Won’t be,” Jake cuts in. “Mav asked me to stay back. Again. Paperwork.”

“Oh,” you frown, just slightly. “Must’ve missed that. All good. See you later.” Then you turn to Javy and flash him wide smile. “Bye, Coyote.”

He gives you a lazy salute. “See ya, Val.”

You turn on your heel and walk away, leaving Jake standing there slack-jawed and utterly defeated.

Javy clears his throat, the grin on his lips turning wicked. “So...?”

Jake’s eyes snap to him. “What?”

Javy raises his brows. “Mav didn’t ask you to stay back.”

“I know,” Jake says, turning back to try and remember what he was filling out a maintenance log for. “She’s got a guy coming over, and I didn’t want to make her feel bad, but I figured she’d be happier if I wasn’t there.”

Javy nods slowly, looking entirely unconvinced. “Right. Okay. So, you were being a good roommate?”

“Exactly.”

There’s a split second of silence where Javy steps even closer, invading Jake’s space as he leans against the wall and tips his head forward. “Want to talk about it?”

Jake doesn’t even look up. “Talk about what?”

Javy shrugs. “Don’t know. Got anything you want to talk about?”

“No,” Jake snaps.

“Alright,” Javy says, pushing off the wall. “You just keep jerking off to your roommate until you die of dehydration. See what I care.”

Jake’s eyes go wide. He chokes on nothing—just air. When he finally turns around, Javy is already gone, striding across the hangar the same way you did. But he’s got a noticeable pep in his step, clearly fucking thrilled with himself for figuring this one out.

After a brief, mostly internal meltdown in the locker room, Jake packs up his gear and heads off base. He sits in his car for twenty minutes, scrolling through texts from a few women he’d messaged earlier, and thankfully, one of them tells him to get his gorgeous ass over to her place right now—no questions asked. So he does exactly that.

The drive is only ten minutes, but it rattles his nerves. Not because he’s worried about this woman—no, that would be ridiculous. He’s worried about you. Or more precisely, what Natasha and Javy think they know about you.

Which is nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Because there’s nothing there.

You’re just his roommate. His ridiculously good-looking, maddeningly sexy, impossibly charming roommate. Two months of living together and sure, some weird feelings have popped up. Strange, shallow stuff. Surface-level. All about your ass, your tits, and whatever else Jake usually notices.

But that’s it. That’s all there is.

He hasn’t noticed the soft melody beneath your laugh. Or the way your lips twitch when you bite back a snarky comment. Or how your tongue drags slowly over your bottom lip when you’re deep in thought.

He hasn’t noticed any of it.

And this guy—Justin? Jake couldn’t care less about who you’re with. That’s your business, not his. He’s just glad you’re getting some.

Just like he is. Right now. With a woman who’s perfectly attractive, even if she doesn’t look, smell, or sound like you. But hey, that’s a good thing, right?

“Baby, c’mere,” Sienna—Jake thinks—croons, reaching across the couch. “Why you sittin’ so far away, hm?”

He shifts closer to the red-headed woman, trying hard not to breathe in the candy-cane scent of whatever glittery body lotion she uses. He remembers that it was overwhelming last time, but this time it’s just making him feel downright sick.

“You really come over here just to watch a movie?” she asks, eyes flicking between Jake’s face and the TV.

His green eyes are glued to the screen. Not because it’s interesting—it’s really not—but because it’s the same spy-romance-thriller you picked last night, and he wants to know if it was actually any good. Since he missed most of it trying to focus on hiding his raging boner.

“Come on,” Sabrina—maybe—sighs, trailing a manicured nail down the line of his jaw. “I got all pretty for you.”

Jake’s eyes flick toward her, lips twitching into a tight smile. She’s not ugly—far from it—but maybe she’s just not his type. Or maybe he doesn’t have a type anymore. Because despite the fact that they both know exactly what he came here for, he can’t seem to want it.

And what’s worse? He can’t get hard. At all.

“Sorry,” he mutters, clearing his throat. “Just—uh, just trying to get work out of my head. You know?”

She nods slowly. “Okay, baby. Well... what if I get us a bottle of wine? Take the edge off.”

Before he can respond, she’s already off the couch and sauntering toward the kitchen. Jake doesn’t care. Honestly, he’s just relieved to get a breath of air that doesn’t reek of unicorn-scented body lotion.

He’s been here nearly two hours. They started making out the second he walked in the door, but it didn’t him take long to realise that absolutely nothing was stirring in his pants. So he’d asked for a minute to decompress, maybe watch something first. Hit reset.

But truthfully? He doesn’t want to get to it. Which is absurd, considering the weekend he just had—fighting off boners left, right, and centre.

“Red or white, baby?” Serena—possibly—calls from the kitchen.

Jake opens his mouth to reply, but his phone buzzes first. Lighting up with your goofy caller ID photo—a close-up of you in your flight helmet, blurry and ridiculous, pulling a face way too close to his camera lens.

His lips twitch as he swipes the green button.

“Hey?”

“Jake,” you say, breathless.

His stomach drops. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Jakey!” Selena—or whatever—calls again. “Red or—?”

“I don’t care!” Jake snaps. “Either’s fine.” Then he lowers his voice, speaking softly into the phone. “Sorry. I’m here. What’s up?”

“A-Are you still on base or...?”

“No, I’m—um, I’m at a friend’s place,” he says quickly. “But that doesn’t matter. You sound stressed. What’s going on?”

“Oh.” You hesitate, voice suddenly too high, clearly realising what you’ve interrupted. “No, it’s fine. I didn’t know you were... with someone.”

“It’s fine. Don’t apologise,” he says, already standing. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing, honestly—”

“Tell me.”

“Seriously, dude,” you sigh. “I’m fine. It’s just—the power went out, but I’m pretty sure it’s only our apartment. So I guess that means it’s... I don’t know. A fuse? The circuit thing? I figured you’d know. But really—it’s fine. I’ll call building maintenance.”

“No, no,” Jake says, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch. “I’ll come home, I can—”

“Jake,” you cut him off. “Don’t. Please don’t. Have your fun, I’ll figure it out.”

He pauses, brow furrowed, suddenly remembering why he came to Sierra’s place. “Wait. Where’s Justin?”

“Oh, he’s not coming over. Got caught up at work or something.”

“Right,” he mutters, peering toward the kitchen. “Just—just stay put. I’ll be home soon.”

“No. Please,” you say, and there’s something strained in your voice. Something off. “Don’t bail on your hookup just for me. I’ll call Phoenix or Rooster, see if either of them knows what to do. Okay?”

His heart is pounding now, hard and fast, making it impossible to think. But he knows better than to argue. He knows better than to ditch a hookup for you. Because he knows what that would mean.

“Okay,” he sighs. “But call me if you need me to come home. I won’t be late.”

“I will. I promise,” you say, voice softer now. “Now go get some. Lord knows you need the ego boost after today.”

He chuckles, closing his eyes and picturing the smile on your face. The one that makes him feel like he’s seventeen again. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Bagman.”

Then you hang up, leaving Jake alone with the dial tone and a weird, hollow ache blooming in his chest.

“Everything okay?” Sasha asks, brows drawn.

Jake frowns, staring down at the phone in his hands. His stomach churns, chest tightens. He can’t breathe. His tongue feels heavy, and his voice is lodged somewhere in his throat.

“Jakey?” she presses. “You don’t look good.”

“Gotta go,” he mutters, voice hoarse.

“You what?”

“I—I have to go. My roommate, she—”

“Your cousin?” Sydney interrupts.

“No,” Jake’s frown deepens. “My roommate.”

Simone frowns. “Yes, your roommate who’s also your cousin. The one you—”

“She’s not my fucking cousin!” he snaps, louder than he means.

Sandy startles, eyes narrowing. “You said she was—”

“She’s my roommate,” he says, voice firm. “Just my roommate. Actually, no—she’s my friend, and part of my squad.”

Samantha raises an eyebrow. “Your squad?”

“Yes. Squad.” Jake runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Because I’m a naval aviator. Which you’d know if either of us bothered remembering anything about each other.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know you’re in the Navy. So what if I forget what you do?” Then she props a hand on her hip. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

“I just—” He takes a deep breath. “I—I need to go home, okay?”

“What? Why? Because of your roommate?”

“Yes. Because of her.” He slides his arms into his jacket. “The power went out and she needs help.”

“The power went out?” Samara echoes, incredulous. “And you have to go home, or what? She’ll die?”

Jake frowns. “No, she won’t—I mean, it’s not life or death, but—”

“Seriously,” Summer cuts in, “what the fuck is your problem tonight?”

“My problem?” Jake narrows his eyes. “My problem is that I can’t just ignore my roommate when she needs me.”

Sadie arches a perfectly plucked brow. “She doesn’t need you, Jake. She’s a grown woman.”

“Well, maybe I need her!” Jake blurts.

The words scorch his tongue, slam into his chest, and steal the air from his lungs. His breath catches—shaky, shallow. Every nerve ending feels raw, exposed—like frayed wires sparking and crackling, desperate for ground. If anyone else touches him now, he might short-circuit. Blow apart.

He needs you. Only you. You’re the only safe harbor, the only grounding wire strong enough to steady this storm raging inside him. The only one who can reach in, hold on, and fix what’s broken.

“Fuck,” he mutters, barely audible. “Shit. I—uh, I gotta go.”

He grabs his keys off the coffee table and shrugs his jacket on properly. He barely looks at the woman staring at him in utter disbelief—just nods and turns toward the door. “Thanks, uh… Sabrina? Samara?”

Then he’s gone. Out the door, down the stairs, across the street, and into his car.

The second he slams the driver’s side door closed, the silence wraps around him like a vice. It’s too quiet, too sharp. His pulse is too loud. And the second the engine turns over, he’s spiralling.

I need her?

He says it again—in his head—and it lands like a punch to the ribs. A silent admission, a whisper amongst whirling thoughts.

Fuck. He grips the wheel tighter.

I need her.

He’s known you for years. Years. Since before flight school. Since that first day at the Academy when you smiled at him like you already knew he was trouble. He remembered that smile for weeks. Thought about it during PT. Laughed about it in the mess hall when his bunkmates gave him shit for getting flustered.

But you barely looked at him again. Not until North Island.

And even then, he didn’t realise what was happening. Not when you moved in. Not when you started stealing his socks or fake-kissing his cheek to get rid of the girls who wouldn’t leave the next morning. Not when you started saving him—over and over again—with a raised eyebrow and a sharp little smile, acting like his wife, or cousin, or federal agent.

He should’ve known.

He did know. Somewhere deep down, his body knew before his head did. That’s why no one else ever stuck. Why no other woman ever made it past two nights. He kept telling himself it was just about sex. That the feelings he had were just surface level—just instinct. Biology. Whatever.

But the truth is, no one ever stood a chance. Not when your laugh still echoes in his head days after he hears it. Not when the soft sound of your footsteps across the apartment floor is more familiar to him than his own breathing. Not when you’re the first person he wants to see when something good happens. Or something bad.

Jesus.

He runs a hand through his hair, breath catching. His throat’s tight. His chest aches.

All this time. All this pretending. And he still didn’t see it.

He’s not in control. He never was.

He’s in love with you.

And suddenly it’s not even a question of what if.

He wishes it were.

But it’s just fact. Solid and terrifying. A truth that makes his heart race and his hands shake.

He presses harder on the gas. He just needs to get home.

To you.

He drives like he has nothing to lose—even though right now, he knows he has everything to lose. He’s headlong and reckless, speeding, weaving through traffic, taking corners too fast. Pulling moves that could easily earn him a suspension or, worse, a formal reprimand from the Navy.

But he doesn’t care. Because fourteen minutes later, he’s outside your building, practically falling out of his car and hurrying through the lobby like a lunatic.

He jabs at the elevator buttons, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the carriage crawls upward. When it finally opens on your floor, he squeezes out and bolts down the hallway, fumbling with his keys like his hands forgot how to work.

His head is spinning. His fingers are numb. He can barely breathe, let alone think straight—and less than a foot from the door, the keys slip from his grasp.

“Shit,” he mutters, crouching down to pick them up.

Then—

Laughter. Your laughter.

Light and soft, threaded with that hidden melody that’s burrowed into the deepest parts of his memory.

He freezes, eyes flicking to the sliver of light glowing beneath the door. Power. The power’s back on.

Another muffled laugh, and his stomach drops so hard and fast he’s surprised it doesn’t fall out of his ass.

Maybe it’s just Phoenix? Or Rooster? You did say you were going to call—

“Justin,” you giggle, from somewhere inside, “stop it, I’m trying not to spill it.”

All the blood drains from Jake’s face. He just stands there, pale and slack-jawed, staring at the door like it just punched him in the chest.

His fingers twitch, trying to remember how to move. His whole body feels heavy. Numb. Weighted down by the brutal whiplash of emotional discovery and the gut-punch of reality.

He’s not even sure he has the nerve to walk in.

But after a long moment—too long—he takes a breath, deep and unsteady, and slides the key into the lock.

He pushes the door open and steps inside, kicking his boots off as his eyes land on you in the living room. You’re holding a glass of wine in one hand, and the other is resting—way too high—on Justin’s leg.

Jake isn’t sure what he expected Justin to be like, but whatever it was, this isn’t it. The guy is tall—maybe taller than Jake—with dark hair, dark eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard. Pale, but not scrawny. Broad shoulders. Thick legs. He looks like a lumberjack—minus the flannel. Practically Jake’s polar opposite. He doesn’t look like he belongs in San Diego, and he definitely doesn’t look like he belongs beside you.

“Jake?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Hi,” he mutters, eyes still locked on Justin.

“I didn’t think you’d be home for a while.”

He shrugs. “Came to fix the power. But I can see that’s no longer an issue.” His eyes narrow. “Thought Justin wasn’t coming over.”

Justin shifts uncomfortably, easing his hand away from your leg.

“Oh,” you say, standing up. “Right. Sorry. Jake, this is Justin. Justin—Jake.”

“Hangman,” Jake says flatly.

You frown. “That’s his callsign.”

“That’s right,” Justin says, offering a polite chuckle. “You’re a fighter pilot too.”

“Naval aviator,” Jake replies, enunciating each word.

You shoot him a look—eyes wide, brow furrowed. Like, what the fuck?

“Right, yeah,” Justin says quickly. “That’s what I meant.”

You take a long sip of your wine before clearing your throat. “Justin was stuck at work, but after I called, like, the whole squad, he was my last hope. He came right over and found the circuit breaker on his way up.”

“Great,” Jake mutters, tone dry. “He’s a double-texter and he knows where the circuit breakers are.”

Your eyes go wide. “Jake. What the fuck?”

“What?” he asks, shrugging like he’s not being a complete dick. “Not saying I’m not grateful. Just takes some balls, showing up after being—what? Plan Z?”

“Jake!”

“Okay,” Justin says quietly, pushing up from the couch. “I’m just gonna go.”

You turn to him. “No, no. Don’t. He’s just being—”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Jake says, already swinging it open.

You whip back toward him. “Jake. Stop.”

“It’s fine,” Justin mutters. “I’m going. You two can… sort this out.”

Jake watches your jaw clench, your eyes slashing toward him in a lethal glare. But he can’t bring himself to stop.

“Justin, I’m so sorry,” you sigh.

Jake’s eye twitches when your hand wraps around Justin’s arm, rubbing up and down like you’re trying to soothe him. The sight alone sparks something hot and bitter behind his sternum.

He steps aside as you both move toward the door, still holding it open like he’s doing everyone a favour.

“It’s alright,” Justin says softly, crooking a finger beneath your chin. “Call me, yeah?”

“I will,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, gorgeous.”

You sigh, stepping back—and that’s all the cue Jake needs. He lets the door slam shut in Justin’s face, a solid final barrier between the two of you.

Relief floods through him—but it’s short-lived. Because before he can even blink, you turn on him, gaze fixed and deadly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you spit, eyes narrowed and brows tightly drawn. “Justin was being perfectly polite. He came over here and did us a favour. Then you walk in all rude and territorial—you might as well have just pissed on me!”

Jake chokes on his own breath, coughing softly as he lifts a hand to his chest. “I—”

“Like, seriously!” you go on, throwing your hands up. “You’ve been acting weird the past few days for God knows what reason, and you’re letting it affect you at work. Then you ditch a hookup—which is not very Hangman of you—just to come home and act like a dick?” You pause, wide eyes trained on him. “Do you know how hard it was to convince Justin that there’s nothing going on between you and me? And now what’s he going to think?”

Jake can feel his heart beating in his throat. Loud, heavy, fast. His stomach—if it’s even still in his body—feels like it’s been turned inside out. He can barely breathe, barely think.

“B-Between us?” he stammers out—the only fragment of your rant that seemed to stick.

You roll your eyes, propping your hands on your hips. “Yes, Jake. I live with a young, attractive, single man... of course Justin is going to think there’s something more going on. It’s the same with you and your hookups. But I’m not going to lie to him and tell him you’re my fucking cousin. Because I like him.”

Those last three words feel like a punch to Jake’s gut, winding him.

“You like him?” he asks, voice quiet—strained.

“Yes,” you say, firm—despite blinking a little too fast, which Jake knows is your tell. “And you’re not allowed to have a problem with that. I mean...” You let out a sigh, shoulders sagging as you step closer to him. “What is going on with you? You—You look sick. Are you okay?”

For a second, he doesn’t answer. He can’t.

Because no, he’s not okay. He hasn’t been okay since that night he walked through the door and heard you with someone else. His stomach is in knots, his chest feels too tight, and his skin is buzzing like his nerves are misfiring. He’s pale, yeah, because all the blood is either in his head or his heart and both of them are screaming.

He’s exhausted. Not from the day, but from pretending. From biting his tongue and keeping his distance and playing the roommate, the friend, the flirt with no feelings who knows better than to touch what he can’t have.

His pulse thunders in his ears. His throat aches with everything he hasn’t said. His hands are curled into fists at his sides because if he doesn’t hold something back, he’s going to break.

He looks at you—really looks—and it just… hits him. Hard. Like gravity, or fate, or something heavy and persistent that just won’t let go.

“I—I think I love you,” he mutters, voice low—wrecked.

You startle, eyes growing even wider as you stumble back a step. “What?”

He clears his throat, wishing his heart would stop beating so damn fast. “I’m in love with you.”

Your throat bobs as you swallow hard, eyes glossing over. You take a hesitant step back, like you need the distance just to stop yourself from falling into him.

He wishes you’d let yourself.

“Jake...” you whisper, “y-you’re not in love with me. You can’t be.”

Another punch to the gut. This time harder, lower.

“Why?”

“Because,” you say, eyes flicking toward the floor as you shake your head. “You’re you. Jake. Hangman. You—You’re in love with what you can’t have. The idea of me, maybe. But you’re not in love with me.”

Jake feels like his ribs are splitting—cracking wide open to expose his trembling, bleeding heart. Nothing protecting it as you reach in and rip it apart.

“Why—Why would you say that?” he asks, voice soft, breathing ragged.

“Because I know you!” you say, probably a little louder than intended. “And the woman you fall in love with—really fall in love with—is going to be so special. She’s going to be sexy and funny, and shine so brightly that you forget about all the others, but...” You take a shaky breath. “I’m not that girl, Jake.”

He wants to scream. He wants to run. He wants to reach out to you and tell you—show you—that there’s no one else on this earth that could possibly be that girl.

It’s you. It’s always been you. It always will be you.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, a single tear falling down your cheek. “I just—I think we both need some space, don’t you?”

Jake can’t respond. Can’t say anything. His voice is stuck beneath the lump in his throat, and if he tries to dislodge it, he might just fall apart.

“I—I know it’s probably been a little confusing because we’ve gotten so close,” you continue, swiping at the tears on your cheeks. “And that’s my fault, I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve made sure we kept boundaries and stayed out of each other’s way, but I—I don’t know. I like being close with you, Jake. Being your friend.”

Friend. Ugh.

“And I know you love me,” you add, stepping forward again. “Because I love you too. The same way I love the whole squad.”

At this point, Jake’s not even sure if you’re trying to make things better or worse.

“Let’s just—” You hesitate, your hand twitching like you might reach for him, but you stop yourself. “Let’s forget this happened, okay? Start fresh. Set some boundaries, take a little space. And eventually you’ll see that whatever you think you’re feeling is just... fondness. Platonic.”

Jake isn’t sure what to say—he’s not even sure he can say anything. You’re staring at him with wide, glassy eyes, and it takes everything in him not to break. He sees the tremble in your hands, the slight quiver of your bottom lip. And so he does what he knows he has to do.

He agrees.

“Okay.”

You step forward again, a shaky smile flickering on your lips as your fingers curl gently around his wrist. “Thank you. And—And I’m sorry. I know this is confusing, I just... I don’t want to lose you. You’re one of my closest friends.”

Jake presses his lips into a thin line, holding his breath like that might hold everything else in place.

For a moment, neither of you move. Then slowly, your hand falls away.

Jake searches your face, green eyes scanning like they’re trying to catch a flicker of something—anything—that might tell him you don’t mean it. That you’re lying. That you feel it too.

But all he finds is sadness, and tears, and a wall where there used to be warmth.

He ducks his head, steps aside, and walks quickly toward his room. The door slams shut behind him, and he slumps against it, head thudding back against the wood.

“Fuck,” he mutters, throat tight, eyes burning.

You might be confused. You might even be scared. But Jake’s not.

He’s knows he’s in love with you.

- You -

Two. Weeks.

It’s been fourteen fucking days since Jake Seresin told you he’s in love with you.

How are you even supposed to function after a confession like that? How are you expected to keep breathing, keep moving, keep waking up every day just to see his face? At home and at work. Because the universe is some cruel sadist.

Or maybe you’re just a masochist.

After all, you were the one who agreed to move in together.

But he didn’t mean it, right?

He was just caught up in the moment, confused by proximity or friendship—or simply feeling something for the first time in his life. Jake Seresin doesn’t do emotion, so of course he’s going to be confused when he starts caring about someone other than himself. He’s never had a close female friend—not like this. He’s just… not thinking straight.

But you? You can’t stop thinking. About him. His face. His stupid smile. The way he says your name, and the shape his lips make when he does.

About how gorgeous he is—not in the over-the-top way, with his hair done just right, clean-shaven, mess dress pressed to perfection—but in the quiet way. When he’s in sweats and nothing else, his skin warm, hair a mess, lying on the couch like some off-duty Greek Adonis. He doesn’t even know he’s beautiful in those moments. And those are the moments you can’t stop thinking about.

You can’t get his eyes out of your head. His smile that crooks a little higher on one side, just for you. The way he smells like cedarwood and jet fuel. The way his warmth finds the deepest parts of you whenever he gets just a little too close.

You’ve always known he’s good-looking, since the very first day you met him. That’s not news. What is news is the way your stomach flips whenever someone even mentions his name. How your skin heats up when you remember the look on his face right before he said it—I’m in love with you. The rawness in his voice. The way it felt so real.

And maybe the worst part is, you don’t know if you regret what you said… or if you’re just terrified that you meant it. That you pushed him away not because you didn’t feel it, but because you did—so much it scared you.

Because two weeks ago, you were doing just fine repressing every unusually warm feeling you had about Jake. Everything that wasn’t totally platonic. But now, it feels like there’s a crack in the floodgates—and you’re one rainstorm away from drowning in everything you’ve tried so hard not to feel.

“Japanese or Mexican?” Justin asks, phone held up to his nose as he scrolls through the food delivery app.

How is it down to Japanese or Mexican? They’re not even close. No one in the history of the world has ever been torn between sushi and tacos. It just doesn't make sense.

“I don’t mind,” you mutter. “Not really hungry.”

He sighs, dark eyes flicking toward you. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been distant all week. I’m surprised I finally got you to come around.”

You’ve only seen Justin once since the incident—just long enough to apologise and swear, honestly, that there’s nothing going on between you and Jake. After that, your replies slowed, you stopped checking your phone for his name, and a small, quiet part of you hoped he’d just... give up.

“Yeah, sorry. Work is just—”

“Work?” he cuts in, raising a brow.

You nod. “Work.”

“Right,” he mutters, glancing back down at his phone. “Let’s do Japanese.”

God. You’re not even hungry—and raw fish and seaweed sounds borderline offensive right now.

An hour later, your untouched dinner is still on the coffee table while Justin chuckles at some formulaic comedy—the canned laughter pressing into your skull like static. You’re sitting close, but it feels wrong. Like the space between you and him is closing in, pressing down on your chest. His thigh brushes yours and you force yourself not to flinch, pasting on a polite smile even though your skin is already crawling.

It’s not that he’s doing anything overtly wrong—he’s being perfectly nice, charming in that clean-cut, eager-to-please way. But every laugh feels too loud, every compliment a little too rehearsed. You nod, you smile, you even let him tuck a strand of hair behind your ear—and instantly wish he hadn’t. It doesn’t make you warm. It doesn’t make you flutter. It just makes you want to lean away.

Because the truth is, he’s not Jake.

And now you finally know what that’s supposed to feel like—real connection, real tension, real... something.

“How is he?” Justin asks suddenly.

You blink. “Who?”

“Jake,” he says, frowning. “You just said he’d hate this movie.”

You did?

“I did?”

He nods. “Yeah. I asked if you wanted to change it and you said, ‘Jake would’ve turned it off ten minutes ago’.”

Shit.

“Right,” you mumble, shaking your head. “Sorry. He’s okay. I think. I don’t really know. We haven’t talked in… a while.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “He’s been distant. We’ve been giving each other space.”

Justin smiles, a little too easily. “That’s good. You need boundaries, right? Living together and working together—it’s a lot.”

You hum, noncommittal, eyes glued to your untouched plate of sushi.

You used to know exactly where Jake’s boundaries were. Now all you can see are the ones you put up—and how much it’s starting to hurt having them there.

After Justin clears the takeout containers and pours you a glass of wine, he nestles even closer on the couch. The lame movie is drawing to a close—you can tell—but he makes no move to grab the remote. Instead, he leans in, sliding an arm around your shoulders and pulling your body to his.

Your stomach twists, and that familiar ache wells at the back of your throat—but right now, you’re not sure if it’s tears or nausea. Or both.

You swallow hard and take a shallow, shaky breath before turning toward him. You’re not stupid—you know what he wants. So you force yourself to try.

Your breath catches as his lips brush yours—tentative at first, then deeper, more insistent. You slide your hands up his chest, to his shoulders, fingers digging in as you try to relax your rigid posture. To lean in to him.

He shifts your bodies until you’re lying back, trying desperately to forget the knot twisting inside of you. His hands find your wrists, gently moving them above your head and pinning them against the couch armrest. Your heart races, but not with desire—with memory.

Suddenly, it’s not Justin’s hands you feel.

It’s Jake’s—rough, familiar, impossible to forget. Wrapped around your wrists, pinning you down with ease.

Your mind flashes back to that night. The tension, the heat, the rawness. His eyes blazing, chest heaving. The way his breath ghosted over your damp lips, sparking fire right between your legs.

You moan involuntarily, but it’s not Justin’s name on your lips.

“Jake...” you whisper, breathless.

The body above you freezes. Then pulls back.

Justin just stares, wide-eyed, brows drawn tight. “What the fuck?”

“I—” you try, but the words catch in your throat.

He sits back, scooting as far away from you as the couch allows.

“Justin—”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “Just don’t, alright? I knew it.”

You frown. “Knew what?”

“I fucking knew there was something going on between the two of you.”

You shake your head. “There isn’t—”

“Don’t give me bullshit,” he says. “I’m not stupid. I didn’t even have to meet the guy to know. Just the way you spoke about him. The way you talked about him—it was non-fucking-stop. Do you know you talked more about Jake than yourself on our first date?”

Your eyes go wide, realisation thrumming hard through your veins.

Fuck.

It really has always been Jake. From the very first moment you met him—the way you refused to acknowledge him, convinced yourself he was just some pretty boy you wanted nothing to do with.

Then again at flight school. He was impossible to ignore. Always creeping into your thoughts and dreams, weaving himself deeper than you ever meant to let him.

TOPGUN. North Island. Moving in together. All of it, some cruel, subconscious prank you’ve been playing on yourself—just waiting for the moment you’d finally wake up and realise he’s not just Jake. Not just Hangman. Not to you.

To you, he’s everything.

Why else did you enjoy getting rid of his hookups so much? Why else did you even do it—if not to placate that deep, gnawing jealousy clawing at the corners of your mind?

A sharp ache blooms in your chest, and the tears come fast, unbidden—slipping down your cheeks before you can stop them. You’re not sure if it’s heartbreak or relief—or both. You’re crying for the truth you refused to see, for the walls you built, for the fear that maybe you’ve left it too late.

“Fuck,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I—I have to go.”

Before Justin can respond, you’re already on your feet, grabbing your things with trembling hands. You don’t look back as you step out the door, stumbling down the front steps and across the street.

You don’t care how it looks. You just need to get out of here.

You need to go home.

You need Jake.

The drive home is sketchy at best. You can barely see through your tears, and your chest is so tight you can’t take a proper breath. But somehow, you make it.

You park, climb out of the car, cross the street, and stumble through the lobby. You mash the elevator button like the extra pressure might make it come faster. It doesn’t.

When the doors finally open, you squeeze in—then out again, rushing down the hall with your keys already in hand. You fumble at the lock, find the right one, shove it in and force the door open, practically falling inside.

It’s dark. Quiet.

You pause to kick off your shoes, wiping at your face and blinking hard at the still, empty apartment.

Jake didn’t tell you he was going out. Then again, he hasn’t really told you anything lately—not since he told you he’s in love with you.

But you know he hasn’t been going out. You know he hasn’t seen anyone else since then. Hasn’t really spoken to anyone, either. Even Javy asked if you knew what was going on with him. You’d just shrugged and mumbled something about him avoiding you too.

Your throat tightens as you step farther in.

“Jake?” you call softly, your voice wobbly—uncertain.

There’s no response.

With a soft sigh, you shed your jacket and lay it on the kitchen bench. Then you pad quietly toward the hall. At the very end, beneath Jake’s bedroom door, is a faint sliver of light. He’s home.

You move as quietly as you can, tears still slipping down your cheeks, hands trembling at your sides. It doesn’t take long to reach his door—but you don’t knock. Instead, you let your forehead rest against the wood with a soft thud.

“Jake,” you whisper, barely audible.

If he’s watching something or has his headphones in, he wouldn’t hear you.

You clear your throat, lift your head and—thunk—let it fall again.

“Jake,” you say, a little louder.

There’s a shuffle. Then silence. A pause. Two distinct footsteps and—

The door yanks open and you go with it, falling forward.

“Jesus Christ,” Jake breathes, arms wrapping around you as you crash into his chest.

“Nope,” you murmur, sniffling. “Just me.”

He exhales—something like a half-laugh, half-sigh—as he steadies you in his arms. You don’t even try to hold yourself up—just sink into him, your cheek pressed to the firm warmth of his chest, his heartbeat thrumming hard beneath your ear.

“Are—are you okay?” he asks, voice tight with concern. “Did something happen?”

You draw a deep, shaky breath and slowly begin to take your weight back, bracing one hand on his shoulder as you pull upright.

“I—I just—” Your voice breaks as more tears roll down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, his voice low as he takes your hand, his expression softening. “It’s okay. I’m here. Whatever it is—we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

He draws you further into the room, nudging the door closed behind you. Then he sits on the edge of the bed with a heavy breath and tugs gently on your hand to guide you down beside him.

But you don’t move. You can’t. Not yet.

It’s ridiculous, but... you don’t want your first time on Jake’s bed to be like this. Sobbing. Falling apart. If you’re ever in this bed, you want it to be because he put you there—and because you didn’t want to leave. Crying? Maybe… but from overstimulation, not emotional collapse.

“What happened?” he asks again, more carefully this time. “Did—did Justin—?”

“No,” you say quickly.

You step back just enough to face him, standing in front of where he sits at the foot of the bed. Then you tip your head back, trying to breathe, trying to collect yourself. You sniffle. Wipe your cheeks. Blink a few times. And finally, finally, you meet his eyes again.

“I—um, I think I broke up with him,” you say quietly. “If there was even anything to break up. Honestly, we’d barely been going out.”

Jake nods slowly, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Right. So... he didn’t take it well?”

You let out a soft, watery laugh—half-snort, thanks to your stuffed-up nose. “No idea. I left before he could say anything.”

“Oh.” Jake frowns. “Then why—”

“You know,” you interrupt, eyes drifting around his room, “I don’t think I’ve been in here more than once.”

His brow lifts. “Really?”

“Yep. When we first moved in. But it’s different now. It’s very... you.”

Jake huffs a quiet breath that might be a laugh. “Is that a good thing?”

You nod, your gaze snagging on the worn, pale cowboy hat hooked over the bedpost. “Yeah. I like it.”

Silence stretches between you. Heavy and charged. This is the longest you’ve been in the same room in two weeks— and the air between you is thick with everything left unsaid.

Finally, Jake clears his throat. “So... are you okay?”

You meet his eyes. “I think so.”

He nods once. “Good. With all the crying, I thought—”

“I love you,” you blurt.

His entire body stills. The words hang in the space between you like something fragile and flammable. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe.

You swallow hard. “I—I’m in love with you. That’s what I meant.”

He just stares. Cheeks flushed, lips parted, stunned into silence. You can practically see the static behind his eyes.

You wait—heart in your throat, lungs burning. You can see it in his face. You know he loves you too. You just hope you’re not too late. That you haven’t wrecked this—haven’t ruined what it was, or what it could’ve been.

Finally, he blinks and drags in a breath. “You... you’re in love with me?”

You nod. “Yeah. With you.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again, like the words won’t come. Like his brain can’t catch up.

You let out another shaky laugh, wiping fresh tears from your cheeks. “Yeah. That’s why I was crying.”

His voice is hoarse. “Because... of me?”

“It’s not a bad thing,” you say quickly. “I’m just... overwhelmed. I mean, you try realising you’re in love with your roommate—”

“I did,” he cuts in, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You narrow your eyes. “You didn’t let me finish.”

He doesn’t argue.

“You try realising you’re in love with your roommate—who also happens to be a certified man whore with a dating history that reads like an anthology series. Every damn episode worse than the last.”

Jake presses his lips together, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

“Man whore?” he echoes, raising a brow.

You give him a flat look. “Don’t even try to defend yourself. I’ve witnessed the carnage firsthand.” Then your breath hitches. “Why do you think I’m so scared?”

His smile fades. “Scared?”

“Yes,” you whisper, voice cracking as another tear slips free.

He stands up and steps forward without hesitation, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you tight against him. Your head finds its place beneath his chin, your cheek warm against his chest, the fabric of his shirt growing damp with tears.

“I swear to God, Jake Seresin,” you mumble into him, “if you break my heart, I’ll rip yours out and feed it to piranhas.”

His laugh vibrates through his chest. “Noted.” Then his voice softens, dropping to a whisper. “I’m not going to break your heart.”

Your chest tightens, overwhelmed by something fierce and fragile all at once. Love rises slowly, heavy and aching, filling every corner of you—for this man, this maddening, breathtaking man who has become everything you never expected.

You stay wrapped in him, suspended in that quiet moment of calm and certainty, until finally Jake pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. One hand finds yours, the other cups your jaw, tilting your face toward his with gentle intent.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quiet, his eyes impossibly soft.

You nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good.” He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead—so careful, so reverent it nearly undoes you all over again.

When he pulls back, he lingers just close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. His hand still cradles your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek like you might vanish if he stops touching you.

“We can take it slow,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with restraint. “Whatever you want.”

But you can see it in his eyes—that barely-contained hunger. The way his gaze keeps dropping to your lips, the tension strumming between your bodies like a live wire.

“What do you want to do?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

You tilt your head, lips curving into a slow, wicked smile. He doesn’t even have time to react before you place your hands on his chest and give him a gentle push. He stumbles back a step, then another, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he drops onto it with a startled huff.

“I want to save a horse,” you say.

He blinks up at you, confused. “What?”

You reach for the cowboy hat perched on his bedpost, fingers curling around the worn brim. Then, with deliberate slowness, you step between his knees and place the hat on his head, tilting it just right.

“Save a horse,” you repeat, your voice dropping as you lean in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Ride a cowboy.”

You barely finish the sentence before Jake grabs your hips and pulls you into his lap.

Your knees hit the mattress on either side of his thighs. The cowboy hat slips slightly askew on his head, but you grab the brim and straighten it with a grin, settling in with your hips flush against his.

“Jesus,” he breathes, eyes dragging slowly down your face, your neck, the curve of your chest like he’s cataloguing every inch for later. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You lean in close, lips brushing his. “You wish.”

And then you kiss him.

It’s not soft. It’s not slow. It’s all tongue and teeth and breathless sounds caught between gasps. You grind down without shame, feeling the thick press of him beneath you, hard and eager and very much not trying to play it cool. One of his hands slides under your shirt—fingertips rough and greedy—while the other fists in your hair, holding you there like he can’t risk you pulling away.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, bucking up beneath you, chasing the friction like a man possessed. “You keep that up, and I’m gonna—”

“What?” you pant, rolling your hips again, slower this time. “Lose that legendary control of yours?”

His breath stutters. “You’re evil.”

“You love it.”

He’s gasping now, eyes dark, lips swollen from kissing, and you can feel the desperation clawing at him. Every muscle in his body is tense beneath yours, like he’s holding himself back by a thread.

You rock your hips again, deliberately filthy, and his head falls back with a curse.

“Baby,” he growls, voice wrecked, “we’re gonna open a whole goddamn rescue ranch with the amount of horses you’re about to save.”

You let out a breathless, wicked laugh and drag your mouth along his jaw, down his throat. “Then I guess we’d better start tonight.”

And if the next hour alone is anything to go by, this ranch is going to need a whole lot of fencing.

END.

[retro-ivy]

dirty laundry (one) ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: after a couple months of living together, you're still completely oblivious to how you affect jake and he's starting to spiral because now he's... feeling things

notes: i know it's long but i promise it's fun!!! it's so juicy, i had so much fun, i couldn't stop (clearly)! i'd like to formally apologise to all jake girls (and jake himself, because damn, he gets put through it)... please, please, please let me know what you think! i absolutely love hearing all your thoughts! also, tumblr wouldn't let me post it all at once, so there's two sections...

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, reader can drive, a little angst, jake is a bit of a perv and a massive f*ckboy, italics, country music, and VERY HORNY with smut-ish? (masturbation, sex through the wall?) so 18+ ONLY MDNI!!! (please let me know if i've missed anything)

word count: 22046 (section one, 10136)

your callsign is valkyrie

You first met Jake Seresin at the Academy. He was fresh-faced, full of himself, and grinning like the sky belonged to him. Gorgeous—but he knew it. And there was absolutely no part of you that wanted anything to do with him.

The second time you met him was at flight school. He was a little less fresh, a little more cocky, and somehow—even more gorgeous. Because life clearly wasn’t unfair enough already. This time, he was harder to ignore. But still, you managed.

The third time you crossed paths was in the TOPGUN program. And by then, Jake Seresin had become the single cockiest man you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. He was loud, smug, aggravating—and, annoyingly, still so goddamn hot. Almost impossible to ignore. So you bit your tongue, played nice, and kept your reactions locked down. By the end of the program, your disdain had softened into something closer to... indifference.

His abs, though? Those you could—objectively—appreciate.

You figured that’d be the last of him. But then you got tapped for a special detachment on North Island and—of course—there he was. Grinning like you were old friends. Because according to him? You were. So you humoured it at first, and then somewhere along the way, it actually started to feel true—not just with him, but with the whole squad.

After the mission, the choice to stay on as a full-time, elite unit wasn’t really a choice at all. It was a hell yes.

Once the reassignment came through and you were officially under Maverick’s command, you figured it was time to get out of the barracks. Find a place off-base. Something with a kitchen, a door that locked, and—ideally—no bunk beds. Somewhere you could finally feel like a functioning adult.

“Are you sure about this?” Natasha asks, hiking the box in her arms a little higher.

You lean yours against the wall and wrestle with your keys. “Yeah,” you huff, “why wouldn’t I be?”

You finally get the door unlocked—only for it to stop a few inches in, blocked by something heavy.

Natasha raises a brow. “Because you’re moving in with—”

“Jake fucking Seresin,” you shout through the gap. “Move your shit before I break it!”

There’s rustling from inside, then footsteps.

“Not my middle name,” comes the reply, that smug grin practically audible. “But since you asked so nicely…”

You let the door fall shut again. There’s a thud, some shuffling, and then it swings open.

“Phoenix,” Jake greets with a nod, before turning to you. “Roomie.”

You roll your eyes and shove the box into his chest. “There’s more stuff in the van. I helped you yesterday, you help me today. Get moving, Bagman.”

He doesn’t even get a word in before you brush past him and make a beeline for the kitchen.

Natasha trails in behind you, laughing under her breath as she sets her box down by the half-assembled sofa. She watches with amusement as Jake—very obediently—carries the box toward your bedroom.

“Maybe I should be more worried about Hangman,” she mutters, brows raised.

That was exactly two months ago. And since then, you’ve learned a lot about Jake Seresin.

The first thing you learned was that he’s a morning person—because of course he is. Always up at ungodly hours, ready for a run or a workout, bouncing around the kitchen like a five-year-old on a sugar high. You’re convinced he wears his gym clothes to bed.

The second thing you learned was that he hates horror movies, and can’t even handle the fake, ketchup-level blood in the older ones. A week after you moved in, he walked in on you and Natasha watching the latest Scream. He screamed louder than the film, then disappeared into his room, convinced Ghostface was stalking the apartment for a full week.

Halloween is still months away, but you know Nat’s already planning to dress up as Ghostface just to scare the shit out of him.

The third thing you learned—and this one you kind of already knew—is that Jake Seresin has a wildly active sex life. His hamper? Overflowing with dirty laundry. You now know more than you ever wanted to about his… extracurricular activities.

And unfortunately for you, it didn’t take Jake long to realise just how useful having you around could be.

The first time it happened, you were innocently making coffee, minding your own business in the kitchen, sipping fresh brew from your favourite mug.

“Um, who the fuck are you?”

You startle and whip around from staring out the window above the sink, watching lazy waves lap at the shore of Coronado Beach.

There’s a woman standing at the edge of the kitchen. Her hair’s a mess, her clothes are askew, and she’s looking at you like you’re a big, fat bug splattered across her windshield.

“Uh—I’m the… roommate,” you say hesitantly.

You knew Jake had someone over last night, but when you heard him get up for his usual morning run, you assumed he’d kicked her out on the way.

You also have no idea what Jake has told this woman—or any of them, really—about you. Or if she even knows he has a roommate. Because last night, you stayed holed up in your room with noise-cancelling headphones, watching reruns of your favourite nineties sitcom.

“Oh—” the woman says, her frown softening into realisation. “Oh, I’m sorry. Jakey did tell me about you. I’m just really out of it this morning.”

You nod slowly, holding your coffee cup up to your chin like some kind of shield.

“You’re totally not what I expected,” she says, running a judging eye over your fluffy robe. “But Jakey told me what you’re going through, and can I just say? You’re so strong.”

You blink once, steadying your expression so you don’t blow Jake’s story—though you have no idea what it even is.

“If my husband went to jail,” the woman goes on, “I’d be lost. Don’t know if I’d even stick around. But honestly, you’re lucky you’ve got a cousin like Jakey looking after you.”

Cousin? Jakey? Husband?

You clear your throat, struggling to keep a straight face. “Right,” you mutter. “My husband.”

She nods, plastering on a fake smile over smudged lipstick.

“And my cousin,” you add dryly, taking a long sip of hot coffee. “Thank God for my cousin.”

An awkward silence stretches between you, neither of you quite sure what to do next. Maybe you’re supposed to break down in tears over your jailed husband, or gush about how kind and generous your cousin is.

But then she clears her throat and straightens her misbuttoned blouse. “Anyway, is Jake… around?”

You shake your head. “No, he’s volunteering at the animal shelter today. Won’t be back until late.”

You don’t know how she misses the sarcasm dripping from your voice.

“Aw,” she coos, “he’s such a dream. God, I’m going to miss him so much.”

You press your lips together, biting back a sardonic laugh clawing its way up your throat.

“Well,” she sighs wistfully, “tell him I said bye, and that last night was the best night of my life.”

You nod, the smile on your lips painfully forced.

Then she turns, picks up her heels from where they were kicked off by the door, and glances back to give you one last sympathetic smile. “Oh, and good luck with your husband. Jakey said he’s up for review for conjugal visits, so… fingers crossed!”

Then she was out the door, and you were frozen in place—part shocked, part amused, and fully questioning all of your life choices.

So that’s how it started. That’s how you became Jake Seresin’s unofficial bouncer. His getaway car. His get-out-of-jail-free card whenever one of his many conquests overstays their welcome.

Sometimes you’re his cousin with a tragic backstory that makes Jake look like a hero. Other times you’re his sister who just can’t keep out of trouble, so big brother Jakey had to step up. One time, you were even an at-risk youth, fresh out of rehab—thanks, of course, to Saint Jake and his endless patience.

Mostly, though, you just feel like an underpaid housekeeper. Always taking out the trash, doing his dirty laundry, and making sure he doesn’t get himself hung out to dry. If he hadn’t somehow wormed his way into your heart, you’d probably tell him to suck it up and deal with his own poor life choices. But unfortunately, you’ve come to care for the smug womaniser—and you have to admit, sometimes it is kind of fun to put on a little show.

There’s a soft knock on your bedroom door. So soft you’re not even sure it was real—until it comes again.

You sigh, drag yourself out of bed, and rub at your tired eyes as you swing the door open, already knowing exactly who’s on the other side.

“What do you want?”

Jake stands there in all his glory—tight gym clothes, a day’s worth of stubble, and a backwards cap that is so infuriatingly hot you want to knock it clean off his head.

“Need you to get rid of her,” he says, flashing you a soft smile.

One upside to this whole arrangement is that Jake is almost too nice to you now. He knows he owes you—big time—and you’re not ashamed to admit you’re enjoying it. These days, he pretty much does anything you ask.

“What’s her name?” you ask, folding your arms—only just realising you’re wearing a very thin shirt with no bra.

He’s realised it too—and that you’re not wearing any pants—his sparkly green eyes trailing slowly over your body like they have every right to.

“Uh…” He scratches the back of his neck. “I—I don’t know.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah. That tracks. Do you want to see her again?”

He shakes his head, almost violently. “No way. She was a talker. Basically narrated the whole thing.”

You snort. “Okay, good. I’ll tell her I’m your wife or something.”

You step back, holding the door like you’re ready to shut it. But he doesn’t move. He stays right there in the doorway, a hand braced on either side, that hungry look still in his eyes.

“Do you want to be my wife?” he asks, lips curling into a cocky grin.

“Fuck no,” you say, voice laced with laughter. “Now get out of my room and stop looking at me like that before I slap you.”

His eyes stop roaming your body and lock onto yours—still hot, still shameless.

“Go to the gym,” you say flatly. “I saw the empty cookie box in the bin.”

His brows shoot up, and a soft chuckle escapes his lips. “Wow. That’s rude.”

You roll your eyes and swing the door shut. He steps back just in time for it to click closed, and then you turn and collapse face-first onto your bed with a groan.

You’d be a big, fat liar if you said living with Jake Seresin wasn’t absolute torture sometimes. Especially when he looks at you like that. But you have dignity. Self-respect. Pride. You’re not about to debase yourself and sleep with your hot roommate just because he looks—and sounds—like he could fuck you stupid.

Which, unfortunately, is something you sorely need. It’s been way too long since you’ve been fucked in any capacity, and living with a Greek god is doing an absolute number on you.

After wrapping yourself in your favourite fluffy robe and collecting the empty dishes from your bedside table—the ones you were too scared to return to the kitchen last night—you step out of your room. Jake is gone, but you can hear the shower running in the main bathroom. His bathroom.

You busy yourself making fresh coffee and fixing a plate of toast, humming the annoyingly catchy theme song from the show you binge-watched last night. You’re about to head to the living room when Jake’s latest guest rounds the corner.

“Oh,” she says, blinking. “I didn’t know Jake had a roommate.”

You smile, but it isn’t friendly. “He doesn’t.”

She frowns. “Oh. I mean, he said—”

“I’m his wife.”

Her eyes widen, jaw twitching like she’s trying to decide whether to cry, scream, or vomit.

Silence hangs thick in the air—buzzing with the kind of awkwardness you’ve come to enjoy during these little charades.

Then you sigh, long and theatrical, tilting your head to stare off into space. “I’m not mad. Not really. Jake is… well, Jake. He’s got a kind heart and terrible boundaries. He just loves making everyone feel special.” You pause, giving her a deliberate once-over. “And I’m sure last night was very… meaningful.”

She makes a garbled sound that might be an apology, but you cut in before she can gather a full thought.

“I’d offer you breakfast,” you say, sipping your coffee, “but I think it’s best if you leave before I change my mind and start throwing things.”

She scurries to the front door, grabbing her shoes so fast one heel smacks the wall.

“Oh, and sweetheart?” you add, just as she yanks the door open. “You might want to get tested.”

The door slams shut behind her, and you let a slow, satisfied smirk stretch across your lips as you take another sip of coffee.

By the time you’ve finished your breakfast, showered, and changed into fresh clothes, Jake finally strolls in—flushed, sweat-damp, and glowing that obnoxious post-hookup high. He looks like sin and satisfaction wrapped in gym clothes, radiating the smug confidence of a man who ruins lives for fun.

“She gone?” he asks, not even looking at you as he heads straight for the kitchen.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Scared her off. If you do hear from her again, it won’t be pretty.”

He chuckles, low and unbothered. “Don’t have to worry about that. Already blocked her number.”

“Such a gentleman,” you mutter, digging through the key bowl by the front door.

He cracks the cap on a blue sports drink and downs half of it in one go, watching you from the corner of his eye as you gather your keys, wallet, and sunglasses.

“Where you going?” he asks, a little breathless from the chug.

“The same magical place I go every Sunday,” you say flatly. “The grocery store.”

“Oh.” He caps the bottle and sets it on the counter. “Can I come? I need stuff too.”

You sigh. “Dude, I hate when you come. You’re so indecisive.”

He doesn’t answer—just jogs down the hall toward his room. You hear his door creak open, the spray of deodorant, and the rustle of clothes.

“Too bad,” he says as he reappears, pulling on a hoodie. “I’m coming.”

You roll your eyes and walk out the door, not bothering to hold it for him as he hurries to follow.

The grocery store is only ten minutes away, but Jake still manages to test every ounce of your patience on the way. He flicks through the radio like he’s searching for a signal from God, adjusts the AC a dozen times, and plays with the window like a bored kid stuck in traffic on the way to Grandma’s house.

By the time you pull into the parking lot, your jaw aches from how hard you’ve been clenching it—white-knuckling your temper like a babysitter who’s one tantrum away from driving into a tree.

Then, as you try to ease the car into a spot while an elderly couple inches a trolley across your path, Jake is still at it—humming off-key to whatever’s on the radio, fiddling with the window, and letting the AC blast straight into your eyeballs like some sort of cryogenic torture.

“Stop!” you snap, slamming your foot on the brake and smacking your hand onto Jake’s thigh.

The car jerks to a halt, halfway into the spot. Your fingers tighten on his leg, feeling the muscle twitch beneath your palm—taut and warm under the thin fabric of his gym shorts.

Jake’s breath catches. His eyes drop to your hand.

“Would you please just fucking stop?” you grit out.

He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t move.

You inhale deeply, then slowly release your grip on his leg. You dial down the AC and the radio, look around to make sure the elderly couple is out of the way, and then ease the car into the spot.

Only once you’ve shifted into park does Jake stir. He presses one hand to his leg where yours had been while the other slowly unbuckles his seatbelt.

“Sorry,” you mutter, unbuckling yours. “You’re just such a pain in the ass sometimes.”

You glance up—and find his dark green eyes already locked on you. He doesn’t look annoyed. Or smug. Or hurt. Honestly, you don’t know what the hell that look is, because you’ve never seen it before. Not from him.

His fingers curl into the fabric of his shorts as he takes a slow, uneven breath.

“It’s fine,” he murmurs, voice low. “Didn’t mean to annoy you.”

Then he opens the door and practically falls out of the car.

“Okay...” you mutter, climbing out on the other side of the car.

When you glance over the bonnet, he’s already gone—halfway across the parking lot, pulling a trolley out of the bay and guiding it toward the store’s front entrance.

You frown, noticing how close he’s holding onto the cart while waiting for you to catch up.

“We can get a cart when we get inside,” you say, not missing how tightly he’s gripping the handle.

He shrugs, trying to look casual but it’s too forced. “I want this one.”

You tilt your head, eyes flicking to the bent wheel at the front of the trolley. “It’s got a janky wheel.”

“Don’t care,” he says, turning toward the doors. “Still want this one.”

He walks through the automatic doors, clutching the trolley like it’s a lifeline as he steers it toward the produce section just inside.

You shake your head and follow, pulling your phone out to check the grocery list you made this morning.

“Okay,” you say, reaching for the cart and holding out your phone. “Here’s the list.”

“No,” he says quickly, knuckles turning white on the trolley handle. “I’ll push the cart.”

You frown. “Dude, you hate pushing the cart. You literally whine every—”

Then it clicks.

The way he fell out of the car. The rush to grab a trolley. How he’s clutching it like a shield.

“Oh my God,” you giggle, smacking a hand over your mouth. “Jake, are you hard—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses, brow furrowing, eyes narrowing. But the bright blush spreading across his cheeks betrays him.

You can’t help the laughter spilling from your lips, muffled by your palm as Jake pushes you aside to avoid other customers.

“Would you stop?” he hisses, turning his cap the right way around to hide his red face.

“I—I’m sorry,” you say between giggles. “I didn’t—I mean, I barely touched you.”

“It wasn’t you,” he mutters through clenched teeth. “I was thinking about last night, and—”

You cut him off with another burst of laughter, drawing a few odd glances from passersby.

“It’s really not that funny,” he growls, folding the brim of his hat. “You’re being childish.”

His words barely register. You’re too amused picturing Jake popping a boner after you grabbed his leg and told him off. You knew the man had some kinks, but you hadn’t pegged him as the submissive type. Or maybe it's the humiliation that gets him.

You bite your lip, narrowing your eyes. “Still hard?”

His eyes go wide. “What the fuck?”

You try to shrug, but the grin tugging at your lips gives you away. “Just asking. Trying to figure out which kink applies—”

“Stop,” he mutters. “Just fucking stop, please. I’m begging you.”

You arch a brow. “Begging?”

He tips his head back and groans, which only sets you off laughing again.

It takes a few minutes for you to catch your breath, wiping tears from your eyes as your grin finally starts to fade.

With a soft sigh, you lift your phone and open the grocery list again.

“Still want to push the cart?” you ask with a small smirk.

He simply nods, pushing it forward despite not knowing what’s first on the list.

“Hm,” you hum, “maybe it’s the humiliation.”

“What?” he asks over his shoulder.

You lift your brows, feigning innocence. “I said horseradish. We need horseradish.”

He frowns. “What the fuck is a horseradish?”

You’re not entirely sure yourself, but you can’t admit that. So you roll your eyes like he’s asked something stupid and start walking toward the radishes, silently hoping you can figure out a dinner idea this week that actually uses horseradish.

After a few minutes of browsing produce and arguing over which apple is the best, Jake seems to have remedied his little situation. And to your surprise, he doesn’t try to pass off the cart. Instead, he leans his forearms on the handle and follows you around like a well-behaved puppy—occasionally offering advice on what you’re picking, but quickly shutting up the second you tell him to.

“Do not put that in there,” you warn, waving a bunch of spring onions at him.

He frowns, holding up a misshapen tomato. “What? They all taste the same.”

You scoff. “They absolutely do not. Put that down. Pick the nice, plump, red ones.”

His lips curl into a smirk. “You like ‘em plump?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Seresin. I like them plump. Now focus up—we’ve been here almost ten minutes and we’re still in produce.”

He chuckles softly, then turns back to the tomatoes, setting down the ugly one and squeezing each perfectly round, red fruit, searching for the right one.

You bite back a smile, because for all his whining, he’s still doing exactly what you asked. And damn, if the way he’s manhandling those tomatoes isn’t giving you ideas... ones that have no place in a grocery store. Or in public, for that matter.

“Excuse me, dear,” a woman says, gesturing to the mound of bell peppers you’re standing in front of.

“Oh, sorry.” You step closer to Jake, instinctively wrapping an arm around his waist to edge him away so the woman can have her pick.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she says with a soft smile, her grey eyes flicking between you and Jake. “You two make a gorgeous couple, I must say.”

Your cheeks flush instantly, words catching in your throat as you try to pull away from him. But he’s faster, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you against his side.

“Why thank you, ma’am,” he says, turning that Southern drawl up to eleven. “Don’t know what I’d do without her.”

You blink slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

The woman smiles again before picking out two bell peppers, giving you both a nod, and turning to walk away.

You pull away from Jake, wrinkling your nose. “Don’t know what you’d do, huh?”

He chuckles, twisting the top of the tomato bag.

“Probably have to deal with your own bad choices and crappy one-night stands,” you mutter, shooting him a pointed look that says, Yeah. You’d be hopeless without me.

Then you turn on your heel, grab a sack of potatoes, and drop them into the trolley as Jake meets you at the end of the aisle.

For the next half hour, you stroll up and down the aisles, checking your list and tossing things into the cart. Jake mostly stays quiet, only occasionally arguing that name-brand cereal is always better and that all milk tastes the same, so why not just pick the one on sale?

You start wondering if he really needed to come along—he hasn’t added much more than a few protein bars to the trolley—but regardless, you’re enjoying the company. Besides, you hate pushing the cart, so it’s nice to have him helping you out for once. God knows you do more than your fair share of helping him out.

“Oh no,” he mutters suddenly, ducking closer to the trolley and angling himself behind you.

You glance at him, brow furrowed. “What? What’s wrong?”

“That girl from last week,” he says, voice low.

You blink. “Which one?”

His eyes flick nervously toward the end of the aisle. “You know, the one with the red lipstick and the high-pitched laugh.”

You cast your gaze over your shoulder, trying not to seem conspicuous as you squint. Then you spot her—laughing way too loud with her headphones in, clearly on an obnoxious phone call that the whole grocery store is hearing.

“Oh,” you mutter. “That one. It took me like two days to get that lipstick off your shirt.”

Jake freezes, turning slowly to look at you with a curious frown. “Wait. You did that? I thought it just—”

“Came off in the wash?” you ask, snorting. “Yeah, sure pal. Same as those grease stains on your white shirt.”

He blinks—confused or surprised, you’re not sure. All you know is that his nightmare of a one-night stand is heading this way, her shrill voice getting louder.

“Just trust me, okay?” you mutter quickly.

Then you reach up, grab the back of his neck, and pull him toward you until his face is buried against your shoulder, his hat shielding him. You giggle softly and wrap your other arm around his waist, pulling your bodies flush as you listen for the click of her heels against the vinyl floor.

The clicking gets closer, louder, then slows to a stop. She clears her throat, but you don’t move.

“Baby,” you whisper, your breath hitching as Jake’s lips brush the curve of your neck. “Come on, you can wait ‘til we get home.”

There’s a breath. A moment. You wonder if this woman really has the gall to interrupt a couple in public, but then—

The clicking resumes, her voice slowly fading as she walks away.

“There,” you say, clearing your throat as you shove Jake off you. “And for the record, you’d be hopeless without me.”

You quickly turn back to the shelves, willing your body to calm down as heat floods your face. But you definitely don’t miss his reaction—pupils blown wide, lips parted, cheeks flushed, breath coming quick and shallow.

Nor do you miss the way he holds the cart close again, just like when you first arrived—pressing his body against it as he follows silently behind you, blushing like hell.

A tiny smirk curls across your lips.

Maybe it’s an exhibitionist thing...

After another half hour of perusing the aisles and creatively avoiding the red-lipped woman, you finally head for the checkouts. It doesn’t take long for the woman behind the counter to scan your groceries—but in even less time, Jake manages to ask for her number.

She hesitates, eyeing you curiously while you pack the bags into the cart. Jake puts on the full show, flashing a panty-melting grin and swiping his card with all the country charm he can muster.

But you can see it in her eyes—she’s trying to figure out who the hell you are. And why you’re grocery shopping with this man if you’re not together.

With a sigh, you turn to him, deciding—for some unfathomable reason—to help. As if Jake Seresin needs any help getting a woman’s number.

“Come on, dude,” you say, cutting off one of his tired pickup lines. “My girlfriend’s coming over soon and I told her we’d go somewhere nice for lunch.”

Jake looks at you, head tilting slightly—then you see it click. “Right,” he says smoothly. “Your girlfriend. Because you’re gay.” He turns back to the cashier with a winning smile. “Sorry—my housemate’s getting impatient. So... about that number?”

That’s all it takes.

The cashier giggles, flips her ponytail off her shoulder, grabs a pen, and scribbles her number on the back of the receipt.

You roll your eyes and turn away, pushing the cart toward the doors without waiting for him. But he catches up quickly in the carpark, falling into step beside you with that annoyingly gorgeous grin stretched across his face.

“Thanks for that,” he says. “Didn’t realise why she was being weird.”

You scoff. “Seriously? What did you think she was wondering about two people our age buying groceries together?”

He shrugs, taking the trolley from you while you dig around in your pocket for your car key. “I don’t know. I guess I just don’t think of you like that, so I didn’t think anyone else would.”

You snort, stopping at the boot. “Right. I’m just a sexless goblin to you because I’m immune to your absurd charm and annoyingly perfect face.”

You pop the boot, stepping back as it lifts, and Jake positions the trolley to start unloading the groceries.

“You think I have a perfect face?” he teases, eyes gleaming with mischief.

You shoot him a dry look. “You know you do, Seresin. You don’t need me to validate your ego.”

He laughs, lifting two heavy bags into the boot. “Wouldn’t kill you to say it every once in a while.”

“Oh yeah?” Your voice drips sarcasm. “Well, it wouldn’t kill you to thank me for being not just an incredible roommate but a phenomenal wing-woman once in a while. Hm?”

Jake tosses in the last bag, chuckling softly. Then he moves the trolley aside and—without warning—wraps you up in his arms. Your body stiffens, eyes wide, but he doesn’t let go. He just hugs you tightly, cheek pressing to the top of your head.

“Thank you,” he says dramatically, “for being the best roommate in the world. And the greatest wing-woman a guy like me could ever hope for.”

Then he presses a kiss to your hair.

You let out a disgusted groan, flailing your arms until he lets go. Then you shoot him a withering look, sticking your tongue out like a child as you slam the boot shut and stomp around to the driver’s side door.

While he returns the cart to one of the bays, you take a moment to yourself, trying to remember how to breathe. Trying to remind yourself who you’re dealing with here—Jake fucking Seresin. Cocky, a womanizer, your roommate, and a total pain in the ass.

He absolutely shouldn’t be making you feel all warm and gooey inside. No way. His smile, his scent, the way his strong arms wrapped around you—that’s just… wrong. Definitely not something that should make your brain start asking dumb questions like, What if he did see you like that? Like one of those girls he actually wants.

Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen.

As if you’d ever want that to happen. Nope. No thanks. No way.

- Jake -

It’s been a long day for both of you—but longer for Jake.

After the usual run of flying, training, and debriefing, Maverick made him stay back to fill out maintenance logs as punishment for ‘clogging up the radio’. In Jake’s defence, you and Natasha were baiting him. But Mav didn’t care who started it—he just cared who was still talking when he keyed his mic.

So Jake ended up stuck in the hangar office for two extra hours, sorting paperwork with one of the grumpiest plane captains on base, regretting every single word he’d said.

At least it’s Friday. Two days off, two nights to himself—and, with any luck, some half-decent sex.

When he finally walks through the apartment door, he can hear your shower running. Great. Now he has to wait if he wants hot water.

With a heavy sigh, he unzips his flight suit and starts trudging toward his room at the end of the hall. Yours is just before it—on the right—door wide open as usual. He can hear the soft sound of your humming, light and off-key, which probably means your ensuite door is open too.

“Nope,” he mutters to himself, eyes fixed ahead as he strides past. “Don’t even think about it.”

Because Jake Seresin does not think about you like that. He can’t. Not seriously.

Sure, he flirts. Of course he flirts. He flirts with everyone. It’s easy. It’s harmless.

But you? You’re different.

You’re his housemate. His teammate. One of his closest friends in this whole damn place. Thinking about you—really thinking about you—is a fast track to disaster.

And yet… it’s always crawling at the edges of his mind. Quiet temptation. Soft and persistent, like a whisper he pretends not to hear.

The way your skin would look, slick with water. How that sweet little hum might sound if he had you pressed to the wall, mouth on your neck, hands on your hips. How easy it would be to step in behind you. Slide his fingers down your spine. Sink his teeth into your bare shoulder as you let out a soft whimper—

No. Hell no.

He slams his bedroom door behind him like it’ll help. It doesn’t.

Because the hardest part—pun intended—is that Jake likes living with you. He might even say he loves it. You make things easy. Fun. Comfortable. Like home. Which is exactly why he can’t screw this up. Not by fantasising about you. And definitely not by acting on it.

If he ever let himself go there—let himself think about what it would be like to touch you, to have you—he knows he’d fuck it all up. And he can’t afford to do that. He can’t let his inner-caveman win just because you’re ridiculously hot.

Because this isn’t about feelings. Oh, no. Jake Seresin doesn’t do feelings. This is about him being human—a man, no less—and you being sexy as hell without even realising it.

So he doesn't let himself. He won’t lethimself.

That’s why he keeps his bed full. Women in and out. Just enough heat and chaos to distract him. Just enough friction to keep the thought of you out of his head. So he doesn’t think about your lips. Or the way your body moves. Or the little smirk you get when you know you’ve outsmarted him.

He’s got it under control. Totally. Completely.

Except then you’re there—always there. Smelling like cinnamon and vanilla, wearing those stupidly oversized shirts with no fucking bra. Hard nipples and bare legs. And Jake is just about losing the plot because God, your waist would fit so perfectly in his hands. Your body beneath his as he—

“Jake!”

Your voice cuts through the fog like a gunshot.

He jerks, eyes snapping open, heart hammering. Then he looks down at the very obvious problem tenting the front of his flight suit.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, dragging a hand over his face. “I need to get laid.”

Granted, it’s only been five nights since his last overnight guest. But five nights with just his hand—or worse, humping his pillow like a desperate virgin? Yeah. He’s not doing great.

“Jake!” you call again, louder this time.

He takes a deep breath and reaches into his flight suit, adjusting his now painfully hard dick into the band of his underwear before swinging his bedroom door open.

“What?” he shouts, stomping toward your room.

“I left my towel in the dryer,” you call through the apartment. “Can you grab it for me? I’m all wet.”

He stops just short of your door, eyes shutting tight as he tries not to picture that. You. All wet. Jesus.

“Sure,” he mutters, though he knows you probably can’t hear him.

He spins toward the laundry closet across the hall, yanks open the dryer, and pulls out a fluffy towel that smells just like you—vanilla, cinnamon, whatever intoxicating shampoo you use—and holds it away from his face so he doesn’t sniff it like a psycho.

“Are—are you covered?” he asks as he steps into your room.

“What? You’re not going to try and sneak a peek?” you tease, all playful and smug—and fuck if it doesn’t go straight to his cock.

You’re joking. You’re always joking. Because you love to tease him. But whether it’s on purpose or not, it still makes his dick twitch. Every damn time.

“‘M not the type to steal glances, sweetheart,” he drawls. “I prefer a good, long look.”

It’s just instinct. Flirting is wired into his system, hard-coded somewhere deep in his bones. He doesn’t mean to say half the shit he says—it just falls out of his mouth before his brain even has a chance to weigh in.

“Gross,” you mutter. “Just hurry up, I’m fucking freezing. My nipples could cut glass.”

He goes still. Muscles tight. Jaw clenched.

Cut glass.

Jesus Christ.

His eyes snap shut, but it’s no use. The image is already there—sharp, vivid, obscene—and his cock, already fucking leaking, throbs against his belly.

“Hello?” you call, completely oblivious.

“Yeah,” Jake croaks. “I—I’m coming. Just gimme a fucking second.”

“So’s Christmas,” you grumble.

He sucks in another deep breath, then moves through your room and nudges the ensuite door open—squinting like that’ll save him.

It doesn’t.

You’re standing behind fogged glass, barely blurred—one arm across your chest, the other between your thighs, wet hair clinging to your skin, and steam curling around you in lazy spirals. You look like a damn goddess. A naked, pissed-off goddess who could break him with a single look.

“Dude!” you hiss. “Don’t fucking look!”

His eyes snap open as he jerks his head the other way, blindly stepping toward you with the towel outstretched.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Not sure what else I’m supposed to fucking do.”

You sigh. “Just throw the towel, moron.”

He tosses it, hoping it clears the shower screen.

“Thanks,” you say, followed by the sound of rustling fabric. “Now get the fuck out.”

He clears his throat. “Gladly.”

Then he’s gone—back down the hall, back into his room. Slamming the door shut behind him like that’ll do anything to stop the visions in his head or the aching in his cock.

After a quick wank—very quick, given what he just saw—and a cold shower, Jake grabs his phone and texts the woman he’s been talking to for the past forty-eight hours. She’s been sending him nudes since last night, so with any luck, she’ll be keen to meet up tonight.

He’s already in the kitchen, rummaging through leftovers in the fridge, when you emerge from your room—and it takes everything in him not to do a double-take.

Your hair’s done, your lips are glossy, your dark blue jeans look painted on, and the top you’re wearing is doing downright criminal things for your tits. You’ve got a leather jacket draped over one arm and your purse slung over the opposite shoulder.

Jake frowns, keeping his gaze locked on the container of satay noodles in his hands. “Going somewhere?”

“Got a date,” you reply, voice smug.

He glances up, raising his brows. “A date?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Not surprised,” he says coolly, turning toward the microwave. “You just haven’t had one since we moved in.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, tossing your purse onto the kitchen bench to slip on your jacket. “I just haven’t been bothered. But… a girl’s got needs, you know? It’s been long enough.”

Needs. Jesus Christ. What he wouldn’t give to help with those.

If it weren’t for the fact that you also worked together, Jake might actually be tempted to suggest a roommates-with-benefits kind of deal. But he knows if that ever went south, it wouldn’t just screw up your living situation—it’d screw up your careers. Ones you’ve both worked your asses off to achieve.

He chuckles softly, eyes drifting toward you as you reapply lip gloss using your phone camera. “Do I need to borrow your noise-cancelling headphones?”

You shrug, that teasing smirk tugging at your mouth. “Maybe. I’ll let you know how dinner goes.”

Then you tuck the gloss away, sling your purse back over your shoulder, and turn toward the door.

“Don’t wait up,” you say with a wink.

He raises a brow. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Did you just give me the green light to commit a felony?”

He rolls his eyes. “Very funny.”

You poke your tongue out, give him a little wave, and let the door swing shut behind you.

The second the latch clicks, Jake sighs and steps back from the counter, staring down—again—at the bulge in his pants.

God, he hopes he can get laid tonight. Otherwise, he might actually explode.

-

It’s late when Jake gets home. The whole apartment block is eerily quiet as he walks through the lobby, rides the lift up, and strolls down the hall toward your apartment door.

You haven’t texted him all night—not that it matters. The date was either too good for you to touch your phone or so bad you don’t want to talk about it. Either way, Jake doesn’t care.

Because right now, he feels good.

He’s loose-limbed, freshly fucked, and riding the kind of high that only comes from a solid round—or three—of no-strings-attached sex. His head’s clearer. Body lighter. And that itchy, restless frustration he’s been living with? Gone.

Hell, he might even sleep in tomorrow. Skip the gym. Make a big breakfast and tease you about your lousy date—which is what he’s assuming, obviously. Because surely, you would have warned him if—

A pitchy moan cuts through the apartment the second he steps inside. High. Breathless. Undeniably female.

He freezes. One boot off, the other still halfway on.

Another cry echoes. “Fuck—right there—don’t stop.”

The door clicks shut quietly behind him, but Jake still doesn’t move.

Then he hears it.

Smack. Skin on skin. A moan that breaks into a whimper. The creak of bedsprings. The wet, unmistakable rhythm of bodies moving together—fast. Rough.

“Harder,” you gasp, desperate.

Jesus Christ.

His brain short-circuits.

That’s you. In your bedroom. Getting absolutely railed. Loudly. Shamelessly. Obscenely.

He’s never heard you like that before—never heard anyone like that before. It's graphic. Filthy. Fucking hot.

Jake actually blushes. His face burning like some virginal freshman stumbling into the wrong dorm.

He should leave. Go out. Do anything but stand there like a depraved freak. But he can’t move.

Then—another moan. Longer. Higher. And something crashes into the wall. Headboard? Elbow? Doesn’t matter. What matters is the sound you make when it happens, a breathy, cracked little “Ja—ah—”

Wait. Jake?

His whole body jerks.

But then you laugh, low and wrecked. “Justin,” you pant. “D-Don’t let me cum yet.”

Not Jake. Just his idiot brain, short-circuiting under pressure.

Still, he swears all the blood in his body does a violent U-turn, hurtling south at breakneck speed. Because that voice, that pitch, that tone—

It’s everything he’s not allowed to think about.

And now? He can’t stop.

He kicks off his second boot, face hot, dick already hard again—and this time it’s worse. Because he’s not just turned on. He’s unravelling. He’s losing it. Caught somewhere between protective and pissed off and—

He’s not jealous. Of course not. That’d be insane.

He’s just... horny. Again.

Because all that post-orgasm clarity he walked in with?

Gone. Instantly. Obliterated.

And now all he can hear is you—moaning, begging, falling apart—and all he can think about is what it would be like to be the one making you sound like that.

Jake stumbles down the hall like a man possessed, yanks open his bedroom door, and kicks it shut behind him. He flicks on the light, grabs the first pair of sweatpants he sees, and starts tearing through drawers like a lunatic.

Headphones. He needs headphones. Where the fuck are his headphones?

They’re always in the top drawer. Always. Except tonight, of course. Tonight they’re nowhere to be found. Maybe he left them in his car, or at the gym. Maybe they’re buried in his gear bag or lost somewhere at work. Wherever they are, it doesn’t matter—because right now, he’s completely, helplessly, fucked.

Your voice floats through the apartment—soft and wrecked. “Oh, my God—yes, yes, right there—”

Jake groans, scrubbing both hands over his face before falling face first onto the bed. He drags a pillow over his head like it’s going to do anything, like it’s going to stop the sounds seeping through the walls.

It doesn’t.

Your moans crawl straight into his ears, into his bloodstream, settling hot and heavy in his gut. He presses his hips into the mattress, jaw tight, pulse pounding in his throat. It’s subconscious at first—barely even movement. Just friction. Pressure. Desperation.

Then you cry out again, all high and needy, and Jake grinds down without thinking. Just once. Just enough to feel it. His breath catches. His body lights up like a fuse. Because in his head, it’s all you. Under him. Around him. Crying out his name.

No. No, no, no—fuck, stop it.

He flips onto his back, trying to will the image away—but it’s already there. Burned into his brain. Your face, tipped back in pleasure. Your mouth slack, panting. Your thighs spread wide. Hands clawing at his back. Body arching into his.

He groans again, eyes squeezed shut, fisting the sheets as his hips jerk up into nothing.

And then—

A low grunt. Rough. Male. Clipped and stuttering. Followed by a choked-off, breathless curse.

Justin.

Jake’s whole body locks up.

Everything goes still.

Heat drains from his face, shame slamming into his chest like a sucker punch.

Because what the fuck is he doing?

He’s lying here, hard and sweating and grinding against his own goddamn mattress, getting off to the sound of you fucking someone else.

His friend. His roommate. His teammate.

Jake shoves himself upright, rage and humiliation sizzling through his veins like lightning. His body is still aching—still primed—but now it just feels gross. Wrong. So fucking wrong.

“What the fuck is wrong with me,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face like that’ll wipe the whole moment away.

But it won’t.

Because the sound of you—wrecked, undone, beautiful—is still echoing in his skull. And for the first time in a long time, Jake Seresin feels like a goddamn mess.

Eventually—after what feels like an eternity—the noises stop.

Jake lies in bed feeling like a snapped powerline—buzzing with a dangerous current he can’t shake, muscles locked. nerves frayed. He hears your shower running, your voices—low and indistinct—then, at last, silence.

Sleep comes in useless fragments. Every time he drifts off, it’s only to be jolted awake by echoes of your voice. Whimpers. Moans. Soft sighs that somehow twist themselves into his name.

Each time his eyes snap open, his stomach turns. He needs his memory scrubbed clean, wiped of every sound, every image—because the longer it lingers, the more vividly he sees you. Blissed out. Fucked stupid. Completely undone in a way he’s never seen before.

God. Maybe Natasha was right. Maybe moving in together wasn’t the smartest idea he’s ever had.

Sure, it’s benefited him just fine for the past few months, but he hadn’t expected this side of things. He hadn’t considered what it might feel like to lie in bed, separated by a single thin wall, listening to you have pornographic sex with strangers. If he’d known that was part of the deal, maybe he would’ve thought twice.

How hypocritical.

By five a.m., he gives up. He rolls out of bed, changes into his gym clothes, and storms out the door—scowling at Justin’s shoes still sitting neatly beside yours.

He spends two solid hours at the gym, working his body until his muscles shake and his vision blurs. His headphones—found buried in his damn gym bag—stay on the whole time, music turned up loud in a pathetic attempt to drown out the sounds still ricocheting around in his skull.

Your moans are stuck in his head like an old favourite song, one he can’t stop humming even though it’s starting to make him go insane.

He sees a few familiar faces and stops for conversation, pretending everything is normal. Easy. Like he didn’t spend last night rutting against his sheets, imagining things he shouldn’t be imagining. Because seriously—what kind of freak fantasises about their friend getting railed by another guy?

At seven, he leaves the gym and stops for coffee halfway home. Then he sits in his car for thirty whole minutes, sipping it slowly while scrolling through his contacts like a man on a mission. Every female name gets a second glance—because he’s desperate. For a distraction. A good fuck. Anything to clear his head and kill this goddamn erection.

When he finally decides to head upstairs, he finds himself praying that you’re not home. Or if you are, that you’re alone. Because the idea of running into you—or worse, him—makes his skin itch.

Normally, he’d love a bit of banter over breakfast. But not today. Today, all he wants is to jerk off until he’s raw and numb and no longer at risk of letting something stupid slip out of his mouth.

He’s halfway down the hall toward your apartment door when he hears music. Loud music, accompanied by slightly off-key singing and jumbled lyrics. And the only reason he knows the lyrics are wrong is because this is one of his favourite songs.

A country song, no less. One you’ve sworn to hate every time he dares to play his music out loud.

He presses his lips together and quietly pulls out his keys, doing his best to stay silent as he cracks the door open.

And there you are.

In the middle of the kitchen, using a spatula as a microphone and swaying your hips like it’s the best morning of your life. You’re wearing one of those absurdly sexy oversized shirts, and he can’t even tell if you’ve got shorts on—or panties, for that matter.

Your hair’s a mess, there’s makeup smudged beneath your eyes, and your head is tipped back as you belt out the chorus with full, reckless confidence. Wrong notes, wrong lyrics, right attitude.

Jake’s heart lurches into his throat, beating way too fast.

You look so happy. Not just content or satisfied, but happy. Radiant. It’s the same expression you wore the first time you flew a jet—he remembers, he was there—and at TOPGUN graduation, grinning like you could take on the world. God, he’s never forgotten that smile. It’s too damn pretty to forget.

He swallows hard, trying to dislodge the weird lump in his throat, and shakes his head before pushing the door open all the way.

You don’t notice at first. You’ve turned your back to him, flipping a pancake at the stove, your head bobbing along to the music like you physically can’t keep still.

Jake clears his throat. “Didn’t think you’d be able to walk today, let alone put on a concert.”

You jump, whirling around with wide eyes and wielding the spatula like a weapon.

“Jesus Christ, dude! What the fuck?”

Dude. Sometimes Jake wonders if you’ve actually forgotten his name. Even his callsign would be better.

“I didn’t sneak in,” he says—only a partial lie. You would’ve heard him if it weren’t for the music. “Not my fault you’re off in your own world.”

You roll your eyes and grab your phone off the counter, turning the music down until it’s just background noise.

Jake lifts a brow. “So, Justin fucked you into having good music taste, huh?”

Your eyes go wide, heat crawling up your neck. “How do you know his name?”

Jake just gives you a flat look, folding his arms over his chest while he waits for you to figure it out.

“Oh—” you gasp, slapping a hand over your mouth, but you’re still grinning.

“Yeah,” Jake mutters, turning toward the living room. “Oh is right.”

He walks around the couch before flopping down into the cushions and pulling out his phone.

“Hungry?” you call out.

“Mhm,” he hums, eyes glued to his phone as he types a few quick responses to the women he messaged earlier.

A few minutes later, you appear in front of him holding out a plate stacked with two pancakes, a heap of blueberries, banana slices, Greek yogurt, and a drizzle of dark maple syrup.

“Pancakes are made with ricotta,” you say. “And it’s that organic syrup you like. So don’t bitch about carbs or refined sugar.”

He blinks, looking up at you with wide green eyes, wondering why the hell he deserves this. How the hell he deserves you. As a friend, of course. A roommate.

You nudge the plate closer. “Come on, dude. I haven’t got all day.”

He takes it, clearing his throat—again. “Uh, thanks.”

You smile and turn away—and he can’t help it. He ducks his head, eyes dragging down your legs, trying to see if there’s anything under that damn shirt.

“I’m hanging out with Nat today,” you call from the kitchen. “She wants the full recap on last night.”

Jake snorts. “Yeah? Want me to come? Bet I could give her a better play-by-play than you could.”

“Shut up, Seresin,” you mutter, but he can still hear the smile in your voice. “I’ve listened to you every second bloody night for the past two months. Call it payback.”

He rolls his eyes as he takes the first bite of pancake, summoning every ounce of self-control he has not to moan. Because holy shit, these are good.

“Yeah?” he calls. “Well, I know for a fact none of my sleepovers have ever been that loud.”

You appear again, almost startling him as you set a mug of coffee on the table in front of him.

“Well, maybe,” you say, eyes narrowed, “you should do better. Then your sleepovers might be a little louder. A little more... enthusiastic.”

Then you turn and stroll back into the kitchen.

Jake shuts his eyes, breathing slow and deep through his nose.

Do not get hard. Do not get hard. Do not—

He’ll be fine.

As soon as you’re out of the apartment and he can jerk off in peace.

Half an hour later, you’re showered and dressed, standing by the door, sliding sunglasses onto your head. Jake is in the kitchen, elbow-deep in warm water and suds, cleaning up after your breakfast concert—something he volunteered for, of course. A small price to pay for borderline orgasmic pancakes.

“I’ve got a heap of laundry to do before tomorrow. Can you make sure the machine’s free when I get back?” you ask, one foot already out the door, brows raised.

Jake glances over. “Want me to start it? I don’t mind.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll be here all day anyway.”

Your brows lift even higher. “Oh? No Sunday sex appointment?”

“Not ‘til tonight,” he grins.

You roll your eyes, a playful smirk curling your lips. “Okay. That’d be great, actually. You know where my hamper is?”

He nods again, and you flash a wide smile before slipping out the door, calling an airy “Thanks, bye” over your shoulder.

After washing, drying, and putting away the dishes, Jake wipes down the kitchen, vacuums the floor, then moves on to the laundry. He retrieves your hamper from your room, trying not to let his eyes wander too much—but even after all the times he’s been in here, it feels different now. Like the walls are holding onto something he wasn’t meant to know. Something raw. Something private. Something that would make the devil himself blush.

He shakes his head and forces his feet to move out of your room, taking the hamper with him to the laundry closet. He swings the doors open wide and pours your laundry into the plastic basket sitting atop the machine. Then he shifts the basket to the small bench on the left, opens the washer door, double-checks that it’s empty, and starts sorting through your dirty laundry.

He doesn’t want to be a creep—he really doesn’t—but some things just can’t go in the wash together. So he tries. He spots your work clothes and sets them aside, knowing they need a hotter wash—grease and all that. Then he picks up a bra and remembers you mentioning something about an undergarment bag...

With a clipped sigh, he drops the bra and rummages through the cupboard beneath the bench, quickly finding the spotted mesh bag he’s seen you use before. Whether you use it all the time, he isn’t sure, but he’d rather be safe than sorry.

Working quickly now, he slips your bras into the bag and sets aside anything he’s unsure about mixing with the rest. And then—

Something catches his eye. Nestled between a pair of blue jeans and the top you wore last night lies a delicate matching set of lingerie—deep burgundy lace, silky and soft-looking, way too pretty and intimate for him to be seeing.

His breath hitches. His pulse spikes. He tells himself to shove the thought aside—it’s just laundry. Stop being a creep. It’s just laundry.

But he can’t stop picturing it—your skin wrapped in that delicate fabric, your most intimate places covered by just a whisper of lace and silk. God. He can’t fucking stop.

His sweatpants start to swell at the crotch, growing until there’s a prominent tent between him and the bench where that lingerie lies. Taunting. Teasing him.

Jesus. It probably still smells like you. He could almost—

No. Stop. Stop right now.

But he doesn’t. He can’t.

He shifts his weight, eyes locked on the burgundy lace. His fingers twitch, itching to touch, but he clenches them into fists at his sides, clinging to what little control he still has left.

His breath turns shallow, uneven. Each inhale sharper than the last. His head spins as blood rushes south—away from reason. Away from restraint.

His mind races, painting every inch of you in that fucking lingerie. How the lace would hug your curves, how soft and warm you’d be beneath it. Your scent. The slope of your hips. The arch of your back. How wet you’d be... just for him.

He can't take it anymore.

With a strangled grunt, his hand slips beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers trembling as they close around his hot, swollen length—already leaking into the grey fabric.

His hips twitch, breath catching, eyes squeezed shut. All he can see is you. That lace. The sounds you made last night. He strokes harder, faster—every thrust frantic, sloppy, desperate. He’s too far gone, lost to the hunger clawing its way through him.

It doesn’t take long. He’s too worked up. Too far gone.

He steps closer to the bench, bracing himself with one hand, his other still working beneath his sweats. His head drops forward, and—

His fingers graze the lace. Just barely. The faintest touch.

But it’s enough.

His whole body seizes—hot and tight—and he cums with a gasp, clutching the edge of the bench as pleasure crashes over him. His hips stutter, grinding through it, riding the wave until he’s shaking.

When he opens his eyes, his hand is slick and his sweatpants are soaked through, a dark stain spreading across the front of them. His shirt isn’t spared either—there’s a damp patch blooming near the hem.

“Fuck,” he mutters, breathless.

He wipes his hand on his pants and forces himself to finish sorting your laundry, tossing the lingerie into the garment bag like it might burn him if he holds it too long. Then, without looking down, he strips out of his ruined clothes and shoves them into the machine.

He tosses in two detergent pods, taps a few buttons, and hits start—watching the drum begin to spin like that alone might be enough to wash away what just happened.

Then he heads for the shower, grabbing his phone on the way—because if he has any chance of pulling himself together before you get home, he’s going to need more than just his hand.

PART TWO

[retro-ivy]

DINNER WAS NOT SERVED

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune & @iydiamartinx word count: 842 synopsis: Dick had one goal: to seduce his girlfriend. He forgot the part where he should check for unwanted guests first and narrates his plans in very, vivid detail. warning: talk of sexual themes

Dick Grayson practically bounced through the door. After a brutal day at work and a rare night off from his more nocturnal duties, he was beyond ready to spend the night with you—to the fullest.

He wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it—keys flung onto the counter, boots kicked halfway off, jacket tossed somewhere near the coat rack. His hair was tousled from the wind, and that boyish grin was plastered across his face like he’d just won the damn lottery.

“Babe?” he called out, already unbuttoning his shirt to reveal that smooth, unfairly sculpted chest. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. You have no idea what you’re in for tonight.”

You glanced up from the couch, eyes widening in horror.

Too late.

“Been thinking about that mouth of yours,” Dick continued, blissfully unaware of the audience. “You saying my name, choking on it… You better not have eaten yet,” he smirked, prowling closer. “Because tonight, I’m the only thing on the menu. And if you’re really good, I’ll make you my dessert before tying you up like you asked—”

You opened your mouth—something, anything—but the words got stuck somewhere between your brain and your mortified soul.

Dick wasn’t done.

“—And if I do it right, baby,” he added, voice dropping into something criminal, “you won’t be walking straight tomorrow.”

“Please,” Tim begged, his voice hollow—like something inside him had just broken. “Stop.”

Dick screeched.

His head snapped up like a man slapped by God himself.

Jason was sprawled across the other couch, mid-bite of pizza, now frozen with a look of stunned horror.

Tim was slouched in the armchair, pale as death and clutching a throw pillow to his chest like it might protect him from the trauma.

Dick flailed like a man caught with his pants around his ankles—and spiritually, he was. “I—You—WHY ARE YOU ALL HERE?!”

Jason stood up slowly, face blank. “No. Absolutely not. I’m done. I’m leaving. My ears are bleeding. I need holy water. Maybe therapy. And a priest.”

Tim slowly turned to you, deadpan. “You asked for that?”

“I didn’t know he was going to narrate it like a damn porn script!” you hissed, trying to wedge yourself deeper into the couch cushions as if you could disappear entirely.

Damian sat cross-legged on the floor, one eyebrow twitching in confused revulsion. “What… what do you mean by that?”

Dick groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he stumbled backwards as he realized his youngest brother was here too. “Oh my god.”

Jason made a sound like he was dying. “He means sex, Damian! Dear God, why do I have to be the one to explain this?!”

Damian blinked. “…Then why are they the meal?”

Tim looked like his brain had short-circuited. Again.

Jason threw his hands up. “Nope. Not walking him through this. I’ve done my time.”

Dick, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears, turned to you helplessly. “I swear I thought we were alone.”

You glared at him, mortified. “You described yourself as the entrée,” you snapped. “And me as dessert!”

Damian, still thoroughly lost, narrowed his eyes. “But neither of you are edible. That would be cannibalism.”

Jason grabbed his keys. “I’m going to pretend this never happened and go directly to the manor. If anyone ever speaks of this again—I swear—I’ll shoot them.”

Tim trailed after him, defeated. “I’m going to need a drink. And bleach. And maybe a lobotomy.”

The door slammed behind them, leaving only an awkward silence—and Damian, staring between the two of you with narrowed eyes.

Damian, still staring between you and Dick like you were an unsolvable puzzle, slowly tilted his head. “Is it… normal to talk about being consumed before intercourse?”

You made a strangled noise and grabbed the nearest throw pillow, mashing it to your face.

Dick groaned, dragging a hand down his face as if he could physically wipe away the humiliation. His voice was low and exhausted. “Damian. Leave. Before Jason drives off without you and pretends it was on accident.”

Damian huffed through his nose, clearly unimpressed. “Tt. As if I would lower myself to ride with him.”

Still, he stood up and brushed the invisible lint from his trousers. He shot you both one last perplexed glance, muttered something in sharp Arabic—definitely a curse this time—and swept toward the door without another word.

The click of the door closing behind him echoed through the now silent apartment.

Dick finally turned to you, face still beet red, hair a mess, shirt half-open and forgotten. 

“So…” he began, voice sheepish. “Not the night I had planned.”

You hurled a couch pillow at his head.

He caught it easily, the bastard, flashing that boyish grin that somehow still managed to be charming after all this.

“Still love me?”

You pointed at the door. “Ask me after they recover.”

He winked, his voice dipping back into that sultry purr. “Bet I can make you forget about it.”

You paused.

“…Shut up and lock the door.”

That grin of his widened as he rushed to do as you said.

[retro-ivy]

if you’re on tumblr and over the age of 24 it means the mental illness won

[retro-ivy]

30+ year old women are the backbone of this website

[retro-ivy]

IF I WAS A RICH GIRL PT.2 ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: you, jason, and dick have grown closer in the time since their little competition. now that dick has been officially added to your case, new feelings crop up, and the three of you try to figure out what the next month together will really mean.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral sex (all receiving), fingering, threesome, nightmare, mentions of past trauma + violence, daddy issues

wc: 11.1k

a/n: hii everyone. sorry this took me so long. i'm still not sure how i feel about it, but i'm happy to finally have it out. bear with me because this chapter is leading into the rest of the story, and this will be my first multi-chapter fic. as of now, i have seven parts outlined. all that i ask is that you guys not pressure me between chapters cause that makes me feel really burnt out lol. they'll be out when they're out i promise. anyways reblogs + comments always appreciated <3

part 1

Just as he had one week ago, Dick currently stood in the small elevator cabin watching the numbers above the door light up from left to right. With his car keys in one hand and a bag of takeout in the other, he waited for the now-familiar chime of arrival to ding.

It came only moments later. This trip felt much shorter than the first. He wasn’t buzzing with anticipation or running scenarios through his mind to prepare for what lie ahead. This time around, he knew what waited for him inside the apartment, and it wasn’t anything that caused him anxiety.

The sleek exit parted and allowed him into the penthouse. His keys jingled as he walked through the entrance hall to the double doors at the end. They were open now. From the living room, he could hear some grunting, Jason, and some laughter, you.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. You two had been going at it when he woke up this morning, and after he joined in, for a couple hours more. He couldn’t even really be irritated that you were still doing it while he was gone. Instead, he just wondered about what kind of super stamina the both of you possessed that made it possible to be rubbing up against each other all this time later.

Though, it wasn’t like this came as a surprise to him. Since the morning of the little competition last weekend, you and Jason fucked like you used to fight. All the time you spent glaring at him and stamping your feet, now found you with your eyes rolled back as you bounced on his cock. Your pouty huffs morphed into giggly smiles and pitchy moans. And Jason’s tense demeanor had melted into the more casual one Dick was familiar with.

This seemed like the best case scenario. Compared to other jobs, this one came closer to being a vacation. Presented with this situation out of context, it would honestly have seemed more like a fever dream to Dick than anything that could have been real. Sharing a girl with Jason wasn’t something he ever really planned on, but it just kind of fell into place here. There weren’t any rules or schedules. The three of you just took it moment by moment, and so far, that worked.

He had no complaints. He still got plenty of time with you too, and he no longer had to play mediator 24/7. It was a bit amusing, how simple the solution to all Jason’s strife really turned out to be. If only he had started with this, maybe he could have saved himself that first week’s worth of headaches.

Dick entered the living room, expecting to catch you bent over the back of the sofa or spread out across the dining table, but he saw no such thing. In fact, he didn’t see you or Jason at all. He almost paused. A quick bolt of worry shot through him. Realistically, he knew the two of you were fine. Jason was more than capable, and he heard your laughter. But after years of protection orders, he still hadn’t found a way to suppress that instinct to find something wrong.

It was only seconds later he spotted you over on the other side of the room beyond the end of the couch. Your head popped up and down into his line of sight. Relief coursed through him in a rush. Crossing the wooden floor, he walked a few paces closer to see what was happening.

And he did find you on top of Jason, just not in the way he anticipated. Instead, you were parked on the younger man’s back while his body rose and fell in a set of push-ups. A grunt slipped from his lips with every flex of his biceps. From behind, you played with his hair. He’d been going at this a while if the sweat trickling down his temple and staining the collar of his t-shirt were any indicators.

“Hey, you two. Whenever you feel like getting off the floor, I brought your food,” Dick said, raising the plastic bag and giving it a light shake.

Your head zipped in his direction, eyes sparkling impossibly brighter at the mention of your dinner’s arrival. You hopped up off the muscular back supporting you. Despite wearing a cute, pink workout set, not a drop of sweat coated your skin.

Jason, meanwhile, rolled over with a quiet groan. He ran a hand over his face to wipe some of the perspiration away. “Be there in a second.”

You pranced up to Dick and wrapped him an excited hug. After nuzzling into his chest for a second, you tilted your head upwards.

“Did you get the extra rangoons?” you asked, batting your lashes at him as if there was any way he could have forgotten your special request that you’d repeated at least ten times before he left.

“Of course. Think I would’ve left the car keys behind before driving away without your rangoons,” he teased.

With a small cheer, you swiped the bag from his hand and headed in the direction of the kitchen to deal out the food.

“Wow, not even a thank you?” Dick called after you while trailing behind.

“Thank you, Dick!” you chirped.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, coming up beside you at the marble countertop. Red containers appeared one by one across the sleek surface as you unloaded them from the bag. Leaning in, he planted a gentle kiss on your cheekbone. “Bodyguards, workout partners, takeout delivery, and now teaching you manners? You got us working a tall order here, babe,” he murmured.

“I didn’t ask for all that. I think you guys just like doing extra stuff for me cause you know I make it worth your while,” you shrugged with a little smirk on your face as you placed the last box of noodles on the island.

Your haughty display was fast interrupted though as two thick arms snuck around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You squealed as Jason twisted around and placed you out of the way of the meals.

“Did I hear you say you don’t ask for any of that stuff? What were you doing earlier then?” he mocked as he stepped up to the counter and popped open a small container.

“Hey!” you pouted, trying to shove him over so you could have access to all the food again. Your feet slid on the smooth floor as you floundered against him. It took Jason literally no effort to resist your pushing. His large frame did the job all on its own. “I didn’t ask you for anything. You just wanted me on top of you.”

“Mhm, sure. I must have imagined every time you said ‘Jason, what are you doing?’ ‘Jason, I’m bored,’ ‘Jason, let me help,’” Jason imitated before shoveling a forkful of garlic-glazed beef into his mouth

You huffed and circled around to the other side of the counter to grab your bag of rangoons. “Whatever. I still didn’t ask you for anything,” you grumbled.

“Did you really need to when you took the initiative and just climbed on my back?” he mocked.

You scoffed, but both of them could see hints of a smile pulling at your lips. Since you’d become closer to them, winning or losing a minor argument didn’t have an effect on your mood. It was the mere attention that got you going.

In the midst of your back and forth, Dick grabbed the now-empty takeout bag. The plastic crinkled as he crumpled it between his hands on the way to the trash.

Jason glanced over at him. “How’d the meeting go?” he asked, playfulness fading from his expression as work became the topic of conversation.

“Good,” he nodded, reaching for a small box of his own, “We’re all set. We’ll both be assigned here for the remaining four weeks.”

“You managed to convince the old man she needs two people on babysitting duty? How’d you pull that off?” Jason asked with a raised brow.

“You’ll really both get to stay here?” you asked from your side of the island. Your eyes gleamed with hope rather than excitement, as if you still couldn’t believe it was true.

Dick answered you first with another nod before responding to Jason. “I just explained that given her eventful social life and… willful temperament, it would be more convenient on our end to have two people on her case.”

“And he believed you? He didn’t get suspicious?” you checked.

“I think he bought it. He really didn’t ask anything that gave the impression he thought something was off,” he reassured. 

To his relief, you, like your father, didn’t question his vague statements either. If you did, he’d have to figure out how to dance around the exact details of the conversation. He wasn’t really eager to rehash how your own flesh and blood spoke about you.

He thought before arriving at the Senator elect’s office that this would be an uphill battle. Those who didn’t want to use the word controlling would describe your father as protective, but no one would call the man stupid. He knew the reality of this situation just as well as Dick and Jason. There was no party in this arrangement who believed you were in real danger. So why on Earth would he agree that you needed two full-time guards when the one you already had barely did enough to justify his presence?

But the silver-haired man greeted Dick with an election-winning smile and firm handshake. He nodded along to each piece of what he said about you, as if he was absorbing every word like it was law. And when Dick reached the part about your aforementioned attitude and packed schedule, it went off without a hitch.

He eased into it, starting tentatively and bracing for pushback. “She’s adjusting now. Her and my partner are getting along, and we haven’t had any other issues since those first couple days, which is normal. Everyone takes a bit to get used to a second shadow,” he said in an attempt to keep things light. “I was only thinking she might benefit from having a detail of two since she has a few events to attend over the next few weeks and she can be… very set in her ways.”

Your father chuckled while leaning back in his leather chair. “Oh, you don’t have to sugarcoat it. I know how she can be. I love my daughter, but there’s a reason she doesn’t live with me anymore.”

Dick blinked in response at first. Logic would point to the fact that you were an adult aged into her twenties as a potential reason you might live alone. However, he figured that defending you would have aroused suspicion, so he kept his mouth shut, smirking and nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, uh… she’s something else.”

Your father nodded with a knowing laugh. “She knows how to bitch and moan till she gets exactly what she wants better than just about anyone. Think she learned it from her mother,” he sighed in a way that almost sounded fond. “You’re the expert, so if you think you need two guys to deal with her, have at it. You won’t hear any complaints out of me.”

Two guys to deal with her. Have at it.

If only he knew.

You pulled him out of the recollection with a bright smile. “Oh my gosh, this is great!” you cheered. “This is like the nicest thing he’s ever done for me. Not that he knows it. If he did, he probably woulda said no.”

Jason moved on too, going right along with your happy mood. “Great, huh? This the same girl who was doing everything she could to get me out of here just last week?”

“Yes. You’re the one who’s different. You’re someone I actually like having around now. Kinda,” you responded with a coy eyes.

For whatever reason, Dick just couldn’t share the same playful attitude. This was probably the one time in their lives that Jason had him beat on the front of being pleasant. He couldn’t pin down the exact cause, but seeing you now, with your sweet little smiles and muffled laughs after hearing someone who was supposed to protect you paint you as nothing more than an airhead, dug a dent of sadness into his normal nonchalant temperament. He knew your father wasn’t winning any awards for his parenting. However, bearing witness to his casual dismissal struck deeper than he expected.

But you and Jason continued to banter back and forth without a care in the world, so he tried to appear lighthearted for the remainder of dinner.

The three of you talked and ate in the way that had become routine after only a week. Things weren’t tense and argumentative anymore. Now that frustrations had been dealt with, it was easy to riff with one another about music you liked or movies you hated. They’d tell you the occasional story about an old case while you divulged past drama.

After the supply of food across the counter began to dwindle, the three of you worked in tandem to clear away the trash and put away any leftovers. With their help, the surface was clear in no time. You leaned back against the island, your palms flat on the smooth surface with your shoulders angled outwards.

“So…” you started, mischief swirling in your eyes as you looked between them. “What do you guys wanna do now?”

It was no secret what you were after. Your stance gave the two of them a nice view of your cleavage in that tight workout top. And how you looked between them through your lashes left no question about what kind of activities you were hoping would come next.

Jason shook his head. His face held a similar sense of trouble, only it lacked the lustful charge that motivated your own. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m gonna take a quick shower before anything else,” he said, already stepping in the direction of the stairs.

A scoff came from your lips. “What? No fun,” you said and started after him. “At least let us join…”

You reached out to touch his bicep, but Jason’s larger hand grabbed your wrist, preventing you.

“Your shower’s big but not enough for three people,” he said. “Plus, you got a bad case of wandering hands, princess. I want a quick shower. If I let you come with me, we’ll be in there till we’re both waterlogged .”

“But-” you started, your voice already getting a tad whiny.

He clicked his tongue at you, hushing you like an owner would do to their pet’s whines. “You’ve been with me all day. I’m sure Dick can take care of you for a little bit,” he said.

It was a gentle rebuff, but it was sincere. You tried one last attempt at pouting to no avail. He let go of your arm and headed off.

Your sad puffy lips tightened into a more resigned line. You were clearly intent on remaining unaffected. Only a beat passed before you turned and pranced over to Dick.

“He’s no fun,” you said as you snuck your arms around his waist for a hug.

You could be so touchy, but that wasn’t a problem for him. One of his arms slung across your shoulders while his other hand rubbed the curved space just above your ass.

“Sorry you have to stick with your second choice,” he said with a small pinch to your waist.

He meant it as a joke and nothing more. Even though you had been a bit clingier to Jason as of late, he felt no jealousy over it. It was understandable, chasing after the one who made a chase necessary. But if your face was any indication, the teasing nature of the words didn’t fully come across.

You tilted your head upwards, looking at him with a hint of real concern woven into your furrowed brows.

“You’re not my second choice,” you corrected. “I don’t have a favorite or anything. I like both you guys equally. I just know you’ll hang out with me if I want, so I don’t have to ask.” 

Your arms curled around him tighter like a pair of hungry vipers. You put your head against his chest again, right over his heart. His hand continued its gentle motions on your back while he looked down at you. He was content to leave your explanation as it was, but he could feel the unsaid words prodding at you, almost nudging at him by extension.

“I was just joking, babe. Promise,” he said and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

You glanced up at him once more. “…I just don’t want you guys to like… feel like it’s a competition or anything. I like both of you a lot, and I don’t wanna mess this up.”

“You’re not messing anything up,” he reassured without thinking about it. You seemed oddly vulnerable about this, and after earlier, he didn’t want you to have any reason to feel insecure with them. He pressed you right up against him and squeezed your shoulder. “I was just making a stupid joke. If I had a real problem, I wouldn’t be holding you like this, alright?” He smiled a little to further his point.

“Alright…” you said, nodding against his chest.

He pecked your forehead as if to punctuate the words. “Good. No more worrying about anything like that. Let’s go find something to do while he’s showering. I’m sure when he’s done he’ll be sniffing around you again.”

You smiled back at that. Rising onto your tiptoes, you stole a quick kiss from him before dropping your hand to grab his and pull him in the direction of the stairs.

“Oh my goshhhh. He’s taking FOREVER in there,” you called out, saying the last bit loud enough so that it’d be audible through the bathroom door.

For someone who claimed they wanted a “quick” shower, Jason was taking his sweet time in your bathroom. At least by your standards anyways.

Your bedroom ended up being the place for you and Dick to hang out while waiting for the third member of your trio. You preferred it for obvious reasons, but clearly so did Jason since he chose to freshen up in the ensuite rather than the bathroom down the hall.

Dick didn’t mind it either. It was the largest of the three bedrooms. The windows had the best view, showing off how the nearby river twinkled under the sunset. And at night, anyone inside got a good look at the sparkling skyline. The bed was the softest and the biggest, but best of all, it was totally yours.

Objectively, the other two were comfortable, but in here, everything smelled like you. Every surface was your favorite color. He could almost imagine you picking out each fine detail. Stepping into this room felt like stepping into a little world of your creation.

His eyes drifted around it now. After the conversation with your father earlier, he could almost see it in a new light. Everything from the elegant curtains to your glamorous vanity in the corner said you didn’t pay for it on your own. He wondered if you had to “bitch and moan” to get it the way you wanted. Or maybe you picked things based on what you thought would be acceptable. Or perhaps because it was something that brought you joy, he wasn’t involved at all.

A little huff from you brought him out of his thoughts.

“What’s he doing in there? Shaving his legs?” you grumbled, sinking back into the mountain of plush pillows behind your head. You crossed your arms and kept your eyes on the TV ahead. It played a random episode of one of your favorite shows, just something meant to be background noise.

Dick chuckled at your persistent impatience and snuck an arm around your shoulders. “You know, I doubt letting him hear how riled up waiting makes you is going to convince him to go faster. As much as you’ve gotten him to soften up, he still likes to annoy you,” he teased.

He kept you tucked to his side, his fingers running up and down the smooth skin of your thigh. You had changed out of your tight workout clothes in favor of something looser to relax in. While not as form fitting, the tiny pajamas you chose left just as much of you exposed to his eyes. His digits danced with the hem of your shorts every time they brushed the silky fabric. 

“I bet he’s jerking off in there,” you said suddenly, ignoring Dick’s statement completely. You glanced at him and then back at the bathroom door. Your eyes bore into the white wood like the mere possibility had insulted you personally.

He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think he’s wasting time with his hand when you’re out here,” he said.

“Maybe… Or he’s doing it just to spite me,” you said, feigned accusation still present in your words.

Dick’s gaze lingered on you even after you’d settled into reluctant patience again. You met his stare with a questioning look. “What?” you asked.

He blinked, batting those lashes across his pretty blue irises. “What?” he said back.

Narrowing your eyes, you poked his cheek. “You’re being weird. You’re all quiet and staring… It’s suspicious.”

“Maybe I was just looking at how cute you are right now, all puffed up cause you can’t be patient,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes and leaned into him a bit more, as if he could provide relief from getting flustered. “Nuh uh. I look cute all the time, so that’s not it,” you said. “You just look like something’s bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me. I’m fine,” he reassured you.

“Are you sure?” you asked, clearly not satisfied. Then it was as if two little wires connected in your head. “It’s nothing about earlier, is it? My dad didn’t tell you something stupid or embarrassing and scare you off, did he?”

He shook his head with a breathy husk of a laugh. “No, nothing like that,” he denied. With how close you were to hitting the mark, he could only wonder how long ago it happened before.

“Ok... just… You know you could tell me if something was wrong. Even if it wasn’t about work or whatever. I know we’re not like friends… and we haven’t known each other that long. But you could always talk to me about real stuff if you ever needed to,” you offered.

“I know that. But I swear, nothing’s up, alright? Do you ever have one of those days where you feel more stuck in your head than usual? I think it’s just one of those,” he said with a kind smile.

You nodded, willing yourself to accept the answer. “Jason must be having one of those too. He’s been gone for like forever and a half.”

“He probably just needs a moment of peace. You are pretty insatiable, and you’ve been all over him all day, climbing on his back and grabbing his arm,” he murmured with a couple playful squeezes to your own side and arm.

Your body twitched and squirmed in response to the little grabs. The sight drew a huffed laugh from him. He’d never met someone as responsive as you. Your body would light up from a few of the most simple touches.

“I’m not worse than you guys. You both are ready to go like all the time,” you said and slid your hand into his lap, trying to find a bulge.

“There’s a difference between being ready to go and being the one who instigates,” he said, grabbing your wrist and moving your hand onto his abs instead.

You didn’t resist the adjustment. Your fingers traced the rigid muscles in his stomach. You’d felt them so many times already, seen them just as much, but they still brought you a sense of wonder. Both of their bodies did. Before them, you had limited experience, and none of it took place with people who resembled divine beings so closely.

He chuckled at the look in your eyes. “You’re too easy, baby.”

Your cheeks heated up. You tried pulling your arm back to shove his head, but he kept it right where it was.

“It’s ok. You know Jay and I think it’s cute,” he said, continuing to gently mock.

He pecked your cheek, smugness found in his every feature. Leaning in closer, he laid a few soft kisses on your throat. Your breath hitched before you tilted your head to allow him more room. The near-instant compliance with his touch had him grinning against your neck. Even while being stubborn, you wouldn’t deny yourself any attention. And to be honest, he couldn’t see himself ever in a situation where he’d withhold it from you.

He took a deep breath, letting his lungs fill with your air. His arms tightened as his mouth parted and closed against your sensitive skin. The tip of his tongue swirled around your pulse point in the way he had come to learn you liked. Your hand pressed down on his abs a little harder just as a tiny moan escaped you.

In the same way that his body put you in awe, you cast a spell totally your own over him. Being so close felt like willfully submerging himself in aphrodisiacal quicksand. You were so soft and so warm under his hands, your flesh so malleable, practically hypnotizing to grope.

His palms glided over you with reverence. They moved slowly, but with enough pressure to exemplify his growing desire. You writhed under his hands as they smoothed from your back to your hips, over your ass and then down to your thighs.

You allowed your own hand to go lax on his torso, slowly bringing it further South. The place you’d searched for a bulge before rewarded you with one now. You could feel the semi-hard outline under your fingers.

He hissed at the lazy rubs you gave it through his pants. “Always so eager for more,” he mumbled.

While he was still very much wrapped up in the feeling of you, going further tempted him just as much. He dropped one of his hands to the elastic waistband of your shorts and shoved it underneath. His fingers ducked below your panties next with the same precision. The middle one slotted between your puffy lips, seeking out your clit.

Already, you’d started to get a little wet. Dick dragged the pad of his digit through the collecting slick, relishing the clicking sound that came with it. His finger then ventured back to your little bundle of nerves. He gave it a few rubs to which your hips jerked and a whine spilled out of you.

Then the bathroom door opened. Neither one of you had even heard the shower turn off while distracted with each other. Steam poured out into the bedroom. Along with it came Jason. He stepped out, baby pink towel low around his hips, stray beads of water trickling over his scars down to his v-line. His eyes immediately landed on the two of you.

“See? So needy before, but I knew you’d have fun with Dick just fine,” Jason said. He shook his hair like a wet dog before advancing further into your room.

“Shut up. You took too long,” you whimpered, rolling your hips into Dick’s hand.

“You think so? You should’ve said something. I could hear you complaining through the door, but I don’t think it got the point across all the way,” he mocked.

He headed over to the door leading back out into the hall, and suddenly, all traces of your attitude vanished. “Wha- Where are you going?” you asked, turning your head to give him puppy eyes. Dick took advantage of the new angle and attacked your neck with his mouth again.

“Where do you think?” he asked.

Of course, you knew where he was headed - down the walkway and into the guest room with his duffel bag. Most of Dick’s stuff had migrated to your bedroom, but Jason still kept his separate. It really didn’t matter to you though; here or there, you did not want him getting dressed either way.

“Nooooo,” you whined, reaching out towards him with one grabby hand. “Don’t put clothes on.”

He almost laughed at your little display. A smile settled on his lips, and he took a few steps back in the direction of the bed. His pupils scanned over your body again, taking in the way your back arched and your heels slid against the blankets. He watched the outline of Dick’s hand pump beneath your shorts.

“I don’t know… I think Dick’s got you covered, sweetheart. Doesn’t look like you need anyone else,” he taunted, running a hand over your head.

“Need you,” you said, whimpering as Dick rubbed a little star onto your clit. “Need both of you.”

“Greedy,” Jason tutted. But he didn’t stop petting your head.

“Nuh uh,” you denied. Your gaze fell down his body, specifically to his waist where that towel remained tucked around him. It would be so easy to reach out and just…

“No?” he said and cupped your jaw, directing your eyes back to his own. “You don’t think you’re acting spoiled?”

You shook your head before looking down at his stomach again. This time you couldn’t help yourself. You extended your arm, hooking your index and middle finger over the fluffy edge of the towel. It barely took any force to tug it free.

The plush fabric vanished, pooling around his feet. Now, at your eye level, his cock hung, thick and heavy. Your pupils all but morphed into little hearts while staring at it.

He didn’t stop you from grabbing the shaft. Your fingers curled around his length and gave it a gentle tug, beckoning him closer to the mattress. For once, he went along with your desire free of protest. He boosted himself up a bit with one knee on the foamy surface. You continued stroking in time with Dick’s fingers caressing your pussy.

His cock rose to life between your digits. It grew stiffer with every twist of your hand or swipe of your thumb over the tip. You watched in amazement as you did every time, and he watched you. Something deep inside of him went wild for that innocuous fascination that would come over your face in moments like these. Jason was well aware that you weren’t a saint by any means, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to corrupt you.

On the other side of your body, Dick’s head popped up from the crook of your neck, looking up at him with lidded eyes. “Would there even be a point in putting your clothes on when she’s gonna pull ‘em off as soon as you get back?” he joked.

You didn’t even register the little joke or how Jason responded because you were so laser focused on giving him a hand job. Your own movements nearly hypnotized you. With every flick of your wrist, desire gnawed at you, begging you to get more. To take more.

“Can I suck on it?” you asked abruptly.

Jason’s hand paused on your head. He looked down at you again, taking in your dilated pupils and parted lips.

“You want me in your mouth?” he checked.

You nodded.

“Do you think you deserve me in your mouth?” he asked next.

Exasperated, you whined. “Jasonnnnnnn. Come on.” You stuck your lip out to add to your plea.

“Alright, hush,” he said, sweeping his hand around to cup your jaw. “No whining. If you want it so bad, then open up.”

The rough pad of his thumb pressed down on your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth into a cute little o. His cock throbbed as you looked up at him so sweetly. Your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, and your lids drooped slightly under the weight of your lust.

He shifted his hips forward to guide his length to your awaiting orifice. You tried to reciprocate, leaning towards him as much as you could while still Dick’s grasp.

“Ah ah, lay your head back and let me give it to you. You’ll crane your neck otherwise,” he grunted.

Shockingly enough, you obeyed without issue. You sunk back in Dick’s direction, allowing the pillow behind you to support your head. Jason continued on. His tip nudged the seam of your lips. Droplets of precum smeared on the plump skin.

It took no force to push into the wet warmth of your mouth. Your saliva coated his length, making the shaft shimmer as it slid in and out of your mouth. He could feel your tongue lazily flicking and laving against him. It was cute. Such small efforts as you laid there for him to use.

Dick continued rubbing your clit beneath your shorts, but as Jason found his rhythm with shallow thrusts, he maneuvered his fingers around to prod at your entrance instead. The slender digits applied some light pressure before slipping inside. A mewl erupted from you around Jason’s cock, but your body didn’t protest or try to shut him out. You remained lax with the sensations, allowing him to fuck two between your pulsing walls with ease.

He kissed underneath your earlobe. “Such a good girl, sweetheart. Just relax for me. We’ll keep you all filled up,” he whispered.

You whimpered at the electricity his hushed voice sent down your spine. It was all so overwhelming in the best way. You were full of them in every sense of the matter. Not only were they inside you, but they claimed each of your senses as well. Dick’s lilted voice crooned in your ear while Jason’s scent clouded your nose. You got the taste of him all over your tongue as every nerve ending on your body lit up for them.

All of it made your head spin. Your eyes drooped, and your jaw got a little lazy. Before you knew it, Jason was squeezing your cheeks to grab your attention.

“Keep it nice and wide for me, little brat. Don’t want your teeth scraping me up,” he teased.

“Sorry…” you tried to say, but with a mouthful of cock, it just came out garbled and incoherent.

However, the need to apologize fled your mind fast. The creeping sensation of release replaced it. It started to simmer as Dick curled his fingers within you, finding that sweet spot you never reached on your own.

Your hips started to quake. You rocked up and down in a desperate search for release. They both chuckled as they saw it, knowing all your signs by now.

“Are you almost there, pretty girl?” Dick cooed.

“Mhm,” you whined around Jason.

“Yeah? You wanna cum?” he goaded, coaxing you further along.

“Mhm,” you said again; this time louder, more desperate.

His fingers kept thrusting into you. Wet squelches echoed from between your thighs as your peak got closer and closer. You could see it just in front of you, within reach, the sweet, shimmery heat already lapping at you. But just as your body got ready for the final ascent, Dick pulled his digits out.

You bursted with displeased whines and agitated whimpers. In a second, you backed off Jason’s cock so you could grab at Dick’s arm.

“Whyyyy?” you pouted, trying to glare at him. Though, with your eyes all glazed from pleasure, it didn’t come off as any kind of intimidating.

“What?” he laughed, bringing his fingers to his mouth. He slid them inside and sucked them clean while maintaining eye contact with you all the while. “You know you’re still gonna get to cum. You just make it too fun to tease you,” he said once he’d pulled them back out.

The explanation did little to quell your discontent, but before you could voice any of it, a hand wrapped around your ankle and tugged you downwards on the mattress. 

Jason had walked around towards the foot of the bed in the midst of your distraction. He crawled over your legs towards the rest of your body, caressing up your calves as he went. His thumb hooked under the hem of your shirt to boost it up. As he moved, his head ducked down to lay some kisses along your belly.

“Have we left you unsatisfied so far, sweetheart?” he asked, gazing up at you through his lashes.

It was a leading question. Of course, the answer that came from your lips was a soft “no.”

“Exactly. So quit whining. You know Dick and I are gonna take care of you.”

His fingers looped over the waistband of your bottoms next. He yanked them off your legs. Tossing them to the side without a second thought. You watched his movements carefully, having a pretty good idea where he was headed. It just wasn’t something you were used to quite yet.

“Lemme return the favor for you, princess. While I’m doing that, you can do the same for Dick.”

“For what? Not letting me finish?” you huffed.

The fingers belonging to the man in questions landed on your forehead and nudged you back, putting your skull flat on the mattress. He smiled down at you stroking your cheek. 

“No one can ever say you don’t know how to hold a grudge,” he teased.

A little scowl curled on your lips. At the same time, Jason got in position between your legs. You felt his hand cup one of your thighs then the other, placing each on either one of his shoulders.

There was really no time to brace yourself before he dove in. In seconds, that petty expression was gone, wiped clean by parted lips and furrowed brows. Your back curled inward, your body coiling in response to the sudden burst of stimulation down there. Dick watched. It was obvious from the look in his pretty blue eyes that he greatly enjoyed seeing the moment the pleasure took you.

“No, she wants people to think she can hold a grudge, but she’s not as tough as she lets on,” Jason taunted, sounding almost affectionate.

That was the last you heard out of him. Before you had the chance to go back and forth, his lips were on your pussy again. He flicked his tongue over your clit, back and forth, back and forth in quick succession. Your hips bucked while your legs flailed fruitlessly, but Jason was more than strong enough to keep you in place.

A broken whine trickled from your lips. Your heels dug into the firm muscles that spanned over his back. You figured he liked it. The harder you pressed, the more fervor he seemed to have with his mouth.

Beside you, Dick shimmied down his pants and pulled them free. His cock was hard, more than ready for some attention. He gave it a few tugs. Just simple jerks of his hand to the sight of you unraveling under Jason’s skillful ministrations.

As you squirmed, your head tilted in his direction. Your eyes fell on the veiny shaft before you. You remembered what Jason had said. To take care of Dick while he took care of you.

“You ready for me, baby?” he checked, voice hushed as he pet his free hand over your head.

You nodded and opened your mouth into the same shape you had before. He did the work for you just like Jason did. Angling his hips, he tapped his tip against the corner of your mouth before pushing it in. Like usual, he was more gentle than Jason. Despite it being the same action, he handled you with more care.

He got just as much pleasure though. A hearty groan came out of him as you started to suckle on the tip. Your eyes fluttered shut. Having something in your mouth gave your attention somewhere else to go. It acted as a distraction from the bursting bliss between your thighs.

You couldn’t see it, but Jason’s eyes flitted up to your face. He watched you take Dick’s cock while his tongue drew mini figure-eights from the bottom of your slit to your cute little bundle of nerves above. Something close to obsession danced at the center of his green irises. When you weren’t looking, he didn’t bother trying to hide it.

Little whimpers still squeaked from your mouth around Dick, but Jason wanted more. Tiny sounds he had to strain his ears to hear weren’t enough. He stopped licking at you, stopped grazing his tongue across your clit. Instead, he maneuvered the wet muscle lower. He prodded it at your opening and sunk it into you. That got a nice, low moan out of you.

He fucked his tongue in and out, pressing it against your silken walls as you pressed your own against the tender ridge of Dick’s cock. He was hissing too then. The three of you created a chorus of ecstasy, a neverending feedback loop of hissing and squirming.

Jason ground his hips against the mattress as you rolled yours towards his face. He was still holding you down, but your movements got him off. Seeing how desperate you could get, how eager you were to writhe into the pleasure, it had him leaking sticky white pre onto your pretty, pristine sheets.

You could feel that burning hot peak building up inside you again. Your toes curled, and your back started to arch. You knew Dick was getting close too from the way he was panting. That and how his hips were starting to jolt forward a little more frequently.

Jason pulled his tongue out of your slick hole and put his mouth on your clit again. He wrapped his lips around the tiny bud, giving it a harsh suck. You yelped around Dick’s cock. Your whole body jerked, and your head snapped back, his saliva-coated length falling from your mouth.

“J-Jay,” you whimpered. Your hand flew down to grab at his damp hair.

He didn’t answer with words, but the feeling of your digits against his scalp got a groan out of him. His tongue continued to dance over your soaked folds. With everything he had, he worked to bring you to the edge. His fingers dug into the plush of your thighs hard, almost bracing himself as he humped the blanket under him.

Gentle as ever, Dick guided your head back in his direction so he could slip his cock between your lips again. You accepted it happily, sucking it like you had been before being interrupted. Your lips rested right against the ridge. Every little vibration from your squeaks of pleasure reverberated through him.

Those small buzzes were enough to get him to the finish. Dick came first. He sighed and tilted his head back. His hand pressed on your head, keeping you close as his shaft twitched against your tongue. Warm spurts of cum bursted into your mouth, and you had no problem swallowing all that he gave.

In the midst of Dick’s release, you hit your high as well. Just as his was coming to end, you felt something snap inside of you. A loud whine bubbled up inside your chest and left your mouth as you slowly eased off. Waves of bliss coursed through you, your body rolling in trembling waves.

Your thighs squeezed around Jason’s head, and that was when he lost it. 

He continued to devour you through it, not pulling away as euphoria surged through him. You cried out when overstimulation began to set in. Your hands weakly pushed at his head.

In a rare reversal, he listened to you. He pulled back from the junction of your thighs, departing with one final kiss to your clit. His jaw shimmered with remnants of your arousal.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes raked over him. Your small pupils drank in every detail. His tousled hair, his lidded eyes, his puffing chest, his softening cock between those thick thighs… But as your vision drifted down, your gaze landed on the mess he’d left on the plush fabric of one of your blankets.

Sitting up quickly, you grabbed it as if to inspect the sticky patch. “Jason,” you whined, accompanied by a glare.

He snatched it back. “Zip it,” he hushed as he climbed off the bed. “I’ll put it in the wash. It’ll be fine. And if not, I’m sure you can afford a new one.”

You narrowed your eyes at the tight-lipped, mocking smile he gave you. “I can, but I don’t want to. That one’s like the best.”

“Then I guess you’d just have to find better than the best,” he replied before stepping out of your bedroom.

A pouty huff came from your lips, but your eyes lingered on the door. You weren’t actually mad, of course. The wash would get the mess out, and even if it didn’t, what he said was true. You were more concerned with trying to figure out whether or not he was coming back.

On your other side, the mattress lifted with the absence of Dick’s weight. He rose from the bed and stretched his limbs out. Your head snapped in his direction, your hand reaching for his wrist.

“Where are you going?” you asked with a little pout.

He eyed you curiously. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to take a leak - if that’s alright with you.”

Your grip on him loosened as you realized you should probably reign these feelings back in. “I just was wondering like if you were coming back, or if you wanted to do something else.”

“Like?” he asked.

“I just didn’t… want you to feel pressured to like stay in here or anything. I know we all mess around and stuff, but you guys can still sleep in your own rooms if you ever want to,” you said.

His eyes narrowed. He leaned in a little, cupping your chin to direct your eye line. “Would you want us to sleep in the other rooms? Are you getting sick of sharing your bed?”

“No…”

“Do you think I want to sleep in the other room?” he asked.

That prompted a longer pause than the other two questions, but after a few seconds, you shook your head.

“Ok then. No need to worry about it. No one’s annoyed with you. If Jason or I wanted to sleep in the other rooms, we’d tell you that,” he said, leaning down to peck your lips.

With that, he walked off to the bathroom and nudged the door shut behind him. In their collective absence, you dragged yourself out of bed. You took the brief period of free time to put yourself back together and get the bed in order again.

Just as you finished putting your pillow into place, Jason strolled into the room. Without a care for all the organization you’d just done, he came over and flopped down onto your mattress. The blankets wrinkled to his shape, and the pillow you just placed toppled over. You pursed your lips in response before hopping up too and lightly slapping his bicep.

“That’s two times you’ve messed up my bed tonight,” you huffed.

His lips spread into a grin. In a flash, his arms looped around your waist as he playfully wrestled you down onto the mattress. You squirmed around, acting as if you were putting up a fight, but only a matter of seconds had gone by before he had you pinned.

Looking up at him now, you almost forgot the man you met on that first day. His green eyes appeared so much softer. His features seemed way more relaxed. He looked as unbothered as Dick sounded. Maybe you didn’t need to worry.

“We could mess it up again, you know. Maybe before Dick even comes back. I can be fast,” he teased, pecking your cheeks.

“Not fast enough,” Dick’s smooth voice cut in from behind.

That made you smile a little bit. The bathroom door clicked shut again, following it came the soft padding of his feet across the carpet. You brushed your fingertips across Jason’s cheekbone before nudging him off you.

He rolled to one side of your bed while Dick settled on the other. This was how it went most nights. You squished in the middle of their two muscular bodies.

Shifting around a bit, you grabbed the remote. Your head leaned onto Dick’s bicep while your leg overlapped with Jason’s. You could already feel sleepiness creeping up on you, but there was one more thing to decide before letting yourself drift off. Really the only thing that still caused arguments as of late.

“So… Do you guys wanna watch something?”

A few hours later, the tv was still on, broadcasting flickering patterns of light across your bedroom walls. The volume stayed low, the words of the characters on screen inaudible. Not that it mattered. You, Jason, and Dick were all fast asleep by now.

Each of you laid in the positions that had become normal to you now. Dick slept supine with one arm up, you curled into his chest, and Jason latched onto your smaller frame from behind. 

The first time this happened it was almost overwhelming to you. You’d spent the vast majority of your nights up until this point alone. The one boyfriend you had in adolescence had never been allowed to sleepover, and the few flings here and there didn’t bother to really spend the night. You were used to the spacious loneliness that came with the mattresses thrice your size.

But since Dick and Jason had taken up residence with you and divided your king sized bed into three sectors, you didn’t think you could ever go back. Without Dick’s strong heartbeat thumping below your ear, something would feel missing. The absence of soft puffs of Jason’s breath against the back of your neck would leave you cold. In only a handful of nights, you’d become acclimated to sleeping with tangled limbs and limited moving room.

Besides the barely audible chatter of the television, your bedroom was always silent at night. The penthouse was so high up, the sounds of the city below never disturbed your slumber. Cars honking, people shouting, trucks huffing. It was all so distant and muted. None of it could penetrate the peaceful haze of your dreams.

Tonight something else was responsible for that. Not just sounds, but something physical that roused you from the depths of unconsciousness.

It started as simple rustling. Just the sheets shifting against each other, the blanket being pulled from beneath one person’s weight to wrap around another’s. And then grunting followed it. It was quiet and uneven, accompanied by heavy breaths.

You didn’t wake from just that though. Only when you heard mumbling and felt more forceful movements did your eyes flutter open.

Jason’s nose wasn’t nestled against the base of your neck. That was the first thing you realized. 

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes while sitting up. Your movements came slow at first, bogged down by your body’s desire to go back to sleep. It took a few seconds to register what was happening. The glow of the tv disoriented you as your mind tried to fit everything into place.

But you soon realized the mumbling and squirming was coming from Jason.

Glancing over at him, you saw him curled up facing the opposite of you. The muscles in his back looked tense, as if bracing for some kind of impact. His legs kicked at the covers, not with their full force since he couldn’t give all his effort but still pretty hard.

You furrowed your brows as you observed for a few seconds. At first, you didn’t understand what you were looking at. But then you heard him more clearly. You could make out words like “no” and “stop” and “get off.” He made a noise that almost sounded like crying, and that was when it clicked.

He was having a nightmare.

Instantly, you scooted closer, kneeling behind his back. You brought a gentle hand down on his bicep and tried waking him with a combination of soothing strokes and weak shakes.

“Jason?” you whispered. You didn’t want him to get pissy about being woken up, but you also didn’t like watching him upset by his dreams.

He didn’t wake up from your cautious touches or quiet call, so you tried a little harder. You shook him with some actual dedication and leaned in closer.

“Jason. You’re dreaming. Wake up,” you said. Your voice remained caring and tender, but you said the words clearly. His eyes stayed shut though so you went for one more attempt. “Come onnnn. Wake up. Don’t make me get some water-”

The pitchy whine snapped his eyes open; only he didn’t awaken with the relieved gasp or tiny jolt you were expecting. Instead, he snapped at you like you’d nudged him with the barrel of a gun rather than your fingers. He flipped around and lunged. One of his hands wrapped around your throat, the other slammed your shoulder down to the mattress.

You squeaked at the blur of motion. Of course, you knew Jason was strong. It was obvious from the way he worked out and the muscles padding his body. You’d just never really felt how strong he was first hand.

This was a different kind of strength from when he fucked you. His fingers didn’t dig in just enough to mark, their pressure against your skin acted as an unspoken threat. He slammed you down with way more force than when he was just manhandling you. In a position like this, you realized how powerless you really were against him, how easy it would be for him to snap your bones or severely maim you if he felt so inclined.

You stared up at him with widened eyes. Your body trembled with a mixture of fear and confusion. Earlier, when he was on top of you, looking all soft and sweet, it seemed hard to compare him to the facade he wore around strangers. But right now, he had morphed into another creature entirely. That quick temper you saw from day one became so much more severe under pressure. It sharpened into something looking to puncture. You didn’t even want to speak his name to try and calm whatever sort of reaction you’d triggered in case the mere sound of your voice would set him off further.

Luckily for you, being throttled onto the bed had been enough to wake Dick too. He came to his senses faster than you had. The second he saw your predicament, he was up. He grabbed Jason’s shoulder and tugged him back without fear. Maybe he’d done this before.

You sat up, rubbing your throat as you scooted back to lean against the headboard. There was no internal damage that you could feel since he hadn’t actually choked you, but the sting of forming bruises along the base of your throat lingered.

“Hey, hey, hey. You were dreaming, man. No one’s here. You’re alright. She’s fine,” Dick murmured to Jason at the end of the bed.

He definitely had done this before. You could tell. The way he positioned his hands on his shoulders and made him look in his eyes. The tone he spoke with, intentionally grounding and firm without being harsh or scolding. It was practiced, tried and true. You wondered for how long had Jason needed this kind of help. For how long had he struggled with whatever caused him to lash out.

It only took a couple moments for Jason to come back down to reality with the both of you. You could nearly see his features relax back into the shape you’d grown accustomed to. His eyes softened, and although his chest still heaved with rough panting breaths, his posture relaxed. He rubbed a hand over his face before his gaze shifted to you.

For a second, he appeared almost sheepish. Though a stoic mask quickly came up to conceal that.

“Are you alright?” he rasped. “I didn’t…”

“I’m fine,” you reassured quickly. “You just startled me a little, but I’m not hurt or anything.”

He nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “That’s… um that’s good,” he said. But he still wasn’t settled. Instead of returning to his previous place next to you, he made his way off the bed. “I’m sorry. I- It- I’m just gonna take a minute,” he mumbled.

“Jason, wait. You don’t have to-” you started, but he was already out the door without looking back.

Your head turned to Dick who was coming to sit next to you again. “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to scare him like that. I just touched his arm and-” you tried to explain.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t your fault. You’re ok,” he said. His hands gently maneuvered your jaw around to get a look at the markings on your throat.

“Is he?” you asked. “He seemed really upset. I don’t want him thinking I’m mad or something…”

“He doesn’t think you’re mad. Promise,” Dick said softly. Once he was satisfied with his inspection of your neck, he leaned back against the headboard next to you.

You wrapped your arm around Dick’s, leaning your head on his shoulder. The two of you sat in the silence of the bedroom for a couple seconds. You hesitated before speaking again.

“Why did he get so freaked out?” you asked, voice quieter than before. You knew there was a risk you were prying into something that was none of your business, but didn’t you have a right to know after getting choked-slammed as a result of it?

“Jason… He…” Dick started, clearly contemplating whether he should share or not as well. “A few years ago, he was on a case. One of the last ones at our old firm. He was serving a protection order for this girl. And anyways, the details aren’t too important, but it didn’t go well. He got hurt. The client… she didn’t make it out.”

Your eyes widened. Suddenly, guilt for all the shit you’d given Jason upon meeting him hit you like a truck.

“I… Is that what he dreams about?” you asked.

Dick shrugged. “He’s never told me exactly. I’ve only seen him like that a few times before this, on different cases, but I didn’t think he’d had one in a long time,” he said.

“Does he blame himself for what happened?” you said.

“Of course,” he said, smiling a little despite the words. “Any time something goes wrong on a case, you blame yourself. But there was no way he could have done anything different. We had a leak within the agency that sold out their location. No one knew until it was too late.”

You frowned. This story didn’t get any better the more you learned. You tried to piece this information together with your already existing perception of Jason. Part of you just wanted to imagine what he would have been like before any of that. He probably would have been around your age. Maybe he’d be carefree like you or have a sense of humor closer to Dick’s. It didn’t really matter though. Contextualizing what was real was more important than imagining a life that would never exist.

“Should we…?” you said, tilting your head towards the door.

“No. He likes to be alone afterwards,” he answered.

Your frown worsened. Likes didn’t seem like the correct word here. You doubted he liked any of this. He was probably in his room or downstairs, moping around, feeling ashamed and isolated, wanting company and not knowing how to ask for it.

But Dick was already laying down again, so you followed in suit.

“Just give him till morning. He’ll be ok,” he told you, kissing your forehead before relaxing into the mattress again.

You did not plan on giving Jason till morning.

After lying there for a couple minutes, worry for him still nagged at you. There was no way you were gonna fall asleep like this, thinking of a new scenario every few seconds, all of which involved him lonely and in anguish.

You just waited until Dick fell asleep before creeping out of bed and slipping into the hall. Quiet as could be, you padded down the lofted walkway. You peeked into his room on the way, finding it empty and untouched except for his open duffel bag. He must have been downstairs then.

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you found the living room and kitchen empty too. A few more paces in, however, you spotted his figure out on the balcony. He leaned against the railing towards the corner, head hanging forward. His dark hair blew to the side in the breeze outside.

Even though you knew it’d be cold, you opened the door and stepped out. A little shiver overcame you as the chilled air hit your skin. He didn’t look. Either he didn’t hear the door, or he was hoping you’d cut your losses now and go back inside.

But of course, you didn’t.

“How do you not get dizzy doing that?” you called softly as you approached him.

He glanced over in your direction. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights too, little brat?” he asked. Despite the nickname, his voice came out almost hollow. As if someone had carved out his usual mirth.

“Well kinda… I don’t come out here too much,” you admitted with a shrug.

In contrast to your slight aversion, you took up the place next to him, placing your forearms on the frosty steel rail.

“Why do you live in a penthouse if you don’t like heights?” he said.

“I didn’t really choose the floor,” you started. You intended to say more, but a low hum from him cut you off.

“That’s right. How could I have thought otherwise?”

He said it in the way he talked to you before, when you were just a client. When you were just a pest. It hurt a bit, you couldn’t lie. But you didn’t let it push you away. You knew he wouldn’t be in a good mood before you came down here. The time alone probably only hardened his feelings and aimed them more at himself.

“Are you ok, Jason?” you asked, soft and quiet. You reached to touch his arm; however, he put a stop to that by inching away.

“Don’t,” was all he said.

“I just-” you tried.

“I know. You just want to help. But I’m telling you don’t. I don’t need it,” he maintained.

Maybe you should have stopped there. It might have been better to just stand there with him, offer comfort by not letting him be alone even if it had to be through silence. But to be honest… the short tone and the way he interrupted your point pissed you off. You took a deep breath and gripped the railing a little tighter.

“You look like you do,” you said, trying to remain non-confrontational. “You’re out here all alone while it’s freezing.”

“Like I said, I don’t. I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

“But you don’t have to! You can tell me stuff, you know. Like real stuff. I know I’m not like your best friend or anything, but I wanna actually know you. I can listen and maybe help if you let me,” you said, starting the same spiel you gave to Dick earlier.

Only Jason didn’t want it.

“I don’t want help from you.”

Your cheeks burned at the targeted nature of the statement. It wasn’t that he didn’t want help, apparently. No. Just that he didn’t want it to be yours.

“You know you have your right to privacy, and if you really don’t wanna tell me how you feel, fine. But don’t act like I’m a goddamn stranger,” you said.

“Oh, that’s a bad word. You sure daddy lets you say that one?” he retorted.

And that stung. He’d made cracks like that before, of course, on the day you met and those that came after. Right up until that morning where you’d given him all of yourself. That was why it hurt so much when he said it now. It was why your throat tightened a little and your eyes started to sting. You thought that things were different. That he at least understood you even if he didn’t respect you.

“Why are you being such a jerk? I was just trying to help you. Just because you’re too scared to let me in, you don’t have to be rude,” you defended.

He let out a bitter laugh at that. “Oh scared? Is that what I am? You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he taunted. “Because then you’d get to be the one to fix me, and you could finally prove to me that you’re capable. You could get my approval for doing something worthwhile because you know it’ll never come from your daddy.”

The breath vanished from your lungs. You had to actively try not to cry now. Crying would only make you look more pathetic in front of him, and while he may be winning the argument, you’d be damned if you proved him right in any way.

“You barely even know me! How-” you forced out, trying to hide the way your voice cracked.

“If I barely even know you then why the fuck would I wanna talk about this stuff with you?” he said.

Your argument shriveled up on your tongue because, technically, he had a point.

“I was just offering because I thought…” you trailed off. A combination of losing and not wanting to share held you back now.

“I’m not telling you anything because I know you,” he continued. “I know you wouldn’t understand, and you never will. You’ll never know what real pain is. You’ll never have to deal with actual guilt. And I know for a fucking fact shame isn’t a thing in your life.”

You stood there, taking it all. This was the first time he was actually mean to you. Everything in the beginning had been a simmer, but now his temper was heating up. You didn’t even know what to do when he was done. You didn’t want to cower and run off with your tail between your legs, but you also didn’t want to agitate him more.

“Ok, Jason, I get it,” you said. Now yours was the voice that had been hollowed out. This was probably his first time hearing you speak without some form of whining or teasing.

He looked away, and you could tell he realized that he went a little too far. He wanted you to leave him alone but not permanently. But what was said was said. There was no way to unhear his words.

“Look…” he started, but you honestly couldn’t take any half-assed apologies right now.

“It’s fine. Just forget it,” you said, barely more than a whisper, before walking back inside.

The air in the living room was objectively warmer, but the emptiness of the place made it seem chilled. You skulked back upstairs and into your room, slipping into bed with Dick again as if you never left. Your head landed on his chest and your palm rested on the center of his abdomen. You shut your eyes in an attempt to let the sound of his beating heart drown out Jason’s words that were still bouncing around in your skull.

It didn’t really work, but one positive came along with the sadness. It suppressed your anxiety. The pain left you wanting to avoid Jason, so you weren’t at all concerned about whether he was coming back to your bed or not.

You accepted the fact that he’d probably be back in the guest room for good.

[retro-ivy]

practice round

dick grayson x fem!reader

summary; when some guy takes an interest in you, your extremely thoughtful best friend dick convinces you that you need a little more… experience. and who better to help you practice, than himself?

warnings; 18+, manipulation, yandere-lite themes… best friends <3 nsfw, reader is inexperienced, but not a virgin, possessiveness, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill)

author’s note; felt depraved things writing this… if you enjoy then let me know!

You’re sat on your bed, curled up near the edge where Dick is sprawled out on the floor beside you, scrolling through his phone.

He noticed a slight shift in your behaviour about ten minutes ago when you’d received a notification on your phone. He wonders if you’re going to tell him about it — he supposes it doesn’t really matter if you don’t. He’ll just look through it later, but of course he wants you to be the one to share.

You look so nervous, knees drawn up to your chest like you’re trying to make yourself smaller. It’s adorable. It’s pathetic. It makes something sharp twist in Dick’s stomach.

Finally, you blurt it out. “So… this guy asked me out.”

Dick stills, his finger hovering over his phone screen as he freezes in place. “Yeah? Who?”

You say his name like you’re embarrassed and Dick smiles, slow and easy. But inside, he’s seething. It takes a lot to keep his expression carefully neutral. He’s heard you talk about this guy before, offhandedly calling him cute. He has no idea you may have possibly been forming a crush on him.

You hug your pillow against your chest and scrunch up your nose. “He’s so… popular. You know? Good looking. Everyone’s obsessed with him, so I don’t know…”

“Sure,” Dick mumbles, pretending to focus on his Instagram feed again. “He’s been with… what, half the senior class?”

You wince. Dick thanks the universe in this moment that the guy who has taken an interest in you is basically a manwhore. It’s going to make this so much easier.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I guess. He’s really, uh, experienced.”

Dick turns around to face you properly. He scans your face, assessing the way you bite at your lip and look down, your gaze faraway somewhere. “Wait, you’re nervous.”

He forces himself to sound surprised, but of course he knows you’re nervous. He’s banking on it, in fact.

You nod, sighing as you lean back on your bed. “What if I’m not enough for him in… y’know, that area. He’s probably used to girls who know what they’re doing and I’ve barely even—”

“Hey, hey,” Dick cuts you off, getting up to take a seat next to you on the bed and reaching a hand out to lightly squeeze your knee. “You’re more than enough, sweetheart.”

He means that. You’re way more than that jackass deserves. Dick has heard how he’s talked about women before. Even if this guy wasn’t scum, there’s no way in hell Dick is going to let him have you. The gears in his mind are already turning and there’s a growing excitement in his lower belly that he can hardly contain.

“You just said that he’s been with so many people,” you point out, frowning at him.

Dick sighs, like it pains him to say it. “Yeah, well. Sure, he’s probably used to certain things. Stuff he’s probably expecting without even thinking about it. But that isn’t your fault.”

You stare at him, looking utterly crestfallen. He can practically hear your heart sinking and it only spurs him on as he shifts closer to you, dropping his voice into something more intimate and safe.

“Any guy would be lucky to have you. You know that right?”

“Thanks, Dick,” you mumble, trying to smile. But he’s not done.

“It’s just guys like him,” Dick continues slowly and deliberately, carefully choosing his words. “They get bored really fast. If something feels too new… too awkward…”

He trails off, allowing the implication to hang heavy between you. Dick is well aware that you’re not a virgin, but you may as well be. He’s talking bullshit, obviously. He knows that this guy would kill to have you in his bed and that your lack of experience would only make you more appealing to his sick mind. Dick would know, considering his mind is even sicker when it comes to you. The difference is that you actually mean something to Dick.

“Oh,” you whisper, dropping your gaze. You look disappointed and Dick knows exactly what to say next.

“Look, if you’re that worried,” he starts, sighing like you’ve presented him with a problem. “You could always practice.”

You blink at him, startled. “Practice?”

He smiles at you, all warm and encouraging like he’s offering you a life raft. “Yeah. To get comfortable. Figure out what you like, what feels good. What to do. So that when it matters, you’re not nervous.”

You let out a nervous laugh, hesitating. “I guess. But, with who?”

Dick shrugs, noncommittal. “Me, if you want.”

As expected, you whip your head up to gape at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “What?”

He rolls his eyes, as though what you’re saying is silly. “Don’t make it weird,” he chuckles under his breath, keeping his hand on your knee. “We’re best friends. You trust me, right?”

You open your mouth, like you’re about to argue but then you shut it. Because you do trust him — you always have. “Yeah, I do, but—”

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he says, softening his voice even more. Every word coming out of his mouth is a lie, but they’re necessary, really. You don’t know what you want yet, which is exactly why he’s here to help. “And wouldn’t you want to practice with someone you’re comfortable with? Someone who only wants to make you feel good and confident. To teach you how to make someone happy.”

Lies, lies, lies. He has no intention of letting that happen.

Dick starts to stroke your wrist, thumb gliding lazy circles over your pulse like he’s trying to calm you down. Judging by the way it quickens, he’s doing the opposite and he has to fight to hide his grin.

Your voice cracks when you finally whisper back. “You really think it’ll help?”

“Yeah, but it’s totally up to you. You don’t have to decide right now,” he says lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and marvelling at how your gaze is tracking his every movement. “If you’re already this nervous…”

Your voice comes out impossibly small. “What would we even do?”

Dick’s mouth twitches as he tries not to smile triumphantly. He’s got you exactly where he wants and he’s elated.

“We can just kiss for now,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your lips, immediately making them part. Fuck, he’s going to have a hard time stopping if that’s all you want to do. “Whatever you want.”

After hesitating for a second and testing Dick’s patience, you finally nod. It’s shy, barely a movement of your head, but you’re smiling at him and Dick feels it go straight to his groin.

“Okay, then,” he murmurs, agreeable like you’ve coaxed him into it. “Do you want to set the pace, or should I?”

Your shoulders relax a little at the kindness in his voice and you swallow. “You… you can.”

He almost groans at your words. So submissive, so willing. You’re giving him permission to do what he wants and oh, he’s going to take it.

Dick gently positions you so that you’re facing him a little closer, sneaking his hand around to your back like he’s done a million times. Except this time, he gently lifts up your chin and offers you a reassuring smile and you can’t help returning it, albeit nervously. It’s Dick after all — your best friend in the whole world. And he’s such a good one for helping you out, right?

As if you’re getting impatient, you glance down at his lips and he decides that’s enough playing around.

Dick leans forward and brushes his lips against yours to test the waters. When you don’t move away, he presses his mouth to yours and your eyes flutter shut.

You’re a little stiff at first, hesitant and unsure as you allow Dick to lead. And he’s more than happy to show you.

He tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss as his hand slips back to cradle the back of your neck. His fingers tangle in your hair, fully controlling your movements and you let out the tiniest, most helpless whimper he’s ever heard from you.

Dick nearly loses it there and then.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to speak, and his lips brush yours with every word. “You can kiss me back, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice coaxing and patient. He brushes his knuckles against your spine and swallows hard when you instinctively arch up into him. “Just… follow what I do.”

You nod, your expression dazed and faraway and when he leans in again, you press your mouth to his in a soft kiss.

Dick smiles against you, rewarding you by slanting his mouth more firmly against yours. This time he lets the kiss linger, letting you feel his warmth, the careful way he parts his lips to guide you how to breathe through it.

When you mimic him, he hums low in his throat, the noise vibrating against your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispers, barely pulling back, his voice rough with approval. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Your lips turn up, a shy smile gracing your face as you shiver slightly. “Thank you,” you mumble out, like you’re embarrassed.

Dick has manipulated you into kissing him and you’re thanking him. He’s so giddy he could burst.

Instead he settles for kissing you again, even deeper as his hands slide down to your hips where they lightly squeeze. The action makes you gasp softly against the kiss and he uses it, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip.

You stiffen, unsure and he immediately soothes you, hand against the side of your thigh. Your nerves are so cute. Almost as cute as the strawberry lipgloss that he’s tasting, which he knows is your favourite.

“Open up for me, baby,” he murmurs, voice dripping with patience. “Just a little. Let me in.”

You part your lips, all hesitant and sweet and Dick rewards you immediately by slipping his tongue in your mouth. You melt against him some more and he takes it as a sign to go further until he’s licking into your mouth, kissing you like he’s trying to eat you alive.

He’s borderline devouring you, getting hungrier when he feels you start to move with him, gasping into his mouth and making soft, pleased noises.

Dick can feel how overwhelmed you already are when you helplessly reach out to grab the fabric of his t-shirt, clutching him like a lifeline. He needs more.

Pulling back far enough to speak, he tries to control his own breathing. It’s just so hard when he’s this excited. “When a guy really likes a girl…” he says lowly. “He won’t wanna stop at just kissing. You wanna make sure you’re ready for all of that?”

You stiffen for a second and Dick decides to change his tune, gently kissing your forehead like he always does and begins to shift back a little.

“I mean, we don’t have to,” he relents, trying to sound as flippant as he possibly can when his hard on is painfully straining against his jeans. He begins to slide his hands away from your body as though he’s unaffected. As though his jaw isn’t clenched from the restraint of not touching you. “We can stop.”

“No!” Your hands shoot out to hold his own in place where they grip your waist and your eyes don’t leave his mouth for a second. Your’e panting softly, lips swollen and bitten — courtesy of Dick — and your eyes are glassy. “I— we don’t have to stop… I want to keep going. Please.”

Who is he to deny you when you ask so sweetly?

“Whatever you want,” he agrees, voice calm as ever. But his blood is hot and he’s trying so hard not to rip off your clothes and fuck you into the mattress until your bed is broken in half. All in good time, he tells himself as he guides you further back. “Lie down for me?”

You rest your head against your pillows obediently and Dick runs his hands up your sides, slowly and teasingly. “I’m going to take off your shirt now.”

Nodding, you lift up your arms when he begins to peel away your oversized t-shirt, shrugging it over your head to toss it to the ground. Dick’s eyes don’t leave your chest and it’s like he’s a man possessed when he immediately leans down to drop kisses to your neck and down your chest, grazing the swell of your breasts.

“So, so pretty,” he mumbles against your skin, his hands sliding behind your back to fumble with your bra clasp. You don’t stiffen this time and he takes it as permission to unclasp it before sliding your straps down your arms and leaning back to stare at you. “Fuck…”

You shrink under his gaze, trying to place your hands over your chest when he doesn’t move, and the action snaps him out of it.

“Don’t cover up,” he instructs, impatiently brushing your hands away before looking directly into your eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

A little laugh leaves you, like you don’t believe him and he decides it’s high time to convince you. Ducking his head down, Dick immediately swipes his tongue across your hardened nipple and you hiss, hand flying up to muffle your gasps as he starts to suck. Everywhere. He’s biting and licking at your chest, purposely leaving marks. If you try and do this with anyone else, they’ll know he was here first with all the blossoming bruises he’s sucking onto your skin.

Your gasps are coming out too quietly for his liking.

“No, don’t cover your mouth,” he says firmly, circling your wrists with his much larger hands to guide them away and pin them to your sides. “Guys like it when you’re noisy.”

Translation: Dick wants to hear you scream.

He returns his mouth to your body, this time venturing lower as he peppers kisses to your stomach. Lower and lower until he’s at the waistband of your shorts. He kisses around your belly button, nipping at your skin to distract you from your nerves as he slides the shorts down your legs.

You’re not even protesting anymore. In fact, you’re eager as you kick the item of clothing off your body. Dick huffs out a laugh against your belly when he sees your pink cherry-print panties. He recognises them from all the times he’s rifled through your underwear draw — it’s his favourite pair.

“Stop laughing,” you say breathlessly as you playfully tug on a strand of Dick’s hair. “It’s laundry day.”

“No, it’s cute,” he says, completely serious as you roll your eyes. The attitude you give him makes him want to fuck it out of you and so he swipes his thumb across the centre of your panties, right where your clit is, pulling a breathless sound from you. “So, so cute.”

You’re already soaked through the pink and red fabric, your wetness forming a damp spot visible through your panties and he grins. Shit, he’s barely touched you.

Dick props up your legs for better access and tugs at your panties, sliding them down to your ankles and then he groans.

He sounds like you’ve just sucker-punched him and before you have the time to process it, Dick sinks a finger into you easily and without any friction.

You’re so wet that it slides right in and the sounds that leave your lips make Dick’s mouth water. You’re gasping on choked breaths as he moves in and out of you, dragging his digit against your walls.

“So responsive,” he exhales, keeping a slow pace as not to overwhelm you. It only lasts a second though, as he can’t help wondering what other noises he can get out of you. His other hand comes up to start circling at your clit and your hand flys up to grab at his inky black locks.

“Oh, sh…shit. Dick, oh my God,” you whimper as the double stimulation makes your body twitch. You’re so consumed by pleasure that you probably don’t realise how hard you’re pulling on his hair — it’s a good thing he likes it. “Oh, please…”

He thinks he could die right now, hearing you beg him. For what, you don’t sound sure, but he obliges you with something. That something being a second finger which slides in almost as easily as the first.

The whine that leaves you is music to his ears and he pumps his fingers in and out, stretching you open in preparation. “Good?”

His question is teasing, since he can tell from the way your eyes are screwed shut that you do think it’s good. You nod nonetheless, whimpering out a “Yeah, so good. S-so good, Dick.”

Dick hums, increasing his pace absentmindedly as his erection brushes against your sheets. He’s practically humping your duvet, it’s pathetic. But he can’t bring himself to feel shameful about it when you’re looking so fucked out before him and he’s barely even done anything.

Fuck, he’s nearly drooling and so he decides the only thing to do is remove his hand from your clit. Your eyes flutter open at the loss of contact, despite his fingers still moving inside of you.

“Wait, what are you— Nngh.”

Dick flattens his tongue against your cunt and drags it up over your clit. You cry out, tangling your fingers further in his hair and keeping his head between your legs. Not that you need to when he’s eating you out like a man starved.

His tongue is moving against you like you’re his last meal while his fingers curl upwards into your pussy, making your eyes prick with tears. The second he starts sucking at your clit, you arch off the bed and helplessly grind against his face, covering his chin in your slick.

Dick moans into your cunt, pulling away a little to ask you in between licks. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

When he doesn’t hear an answer, his fingers pause in their movements and he lifts his head up to look at you.

“I— I don’t know,” you whisper, breathing heavily. “I’ve never… y’know, I haven’t—”

You’ve never had an orgasm

It feels like Dick’s luckiest day alive, he thinks to himself and he can’t help the wicked grin that splits across his face. His slides his fingers out of you, making you whine and his grin widens as he climbs over you, swiping a hand over his mouth before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” he says soothingly, starting to pepper kisses over your cheek and jaw. “We still have more practicing. You’re going to cum on my cock for the first time, okay?”

“Okay.” Your response is almost immediate and he huffs out a laugh at how willing you are now. Any hesitation has since left you and Dick doesn’t have to convince you to do anything.

Not when you’re tugging at his shirt to take it off, which he happily obliges, reaching behind his back with one hand to shrug it over his head.

You exhale shakily, reaching out tentatively to trail your fingers over the sculpted lines of his chest, the hard ridges of muscle and the soft scattering of dark hair trailing down to disappear into his jeans.

“You’re beautiful too,” you say under your breath with a shy smile and he lets out a broken laugh, rough and shaky, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss at your pulse point.

He’s going to absolutely ruin you.

When your hand drags down his abdomen and further down to his waistband, Dick shudders — a harsh tremor wracking through his body.

“Fuck,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “Take off my jeans.”

Your fingers fumble to unbutton them and before he knows it, he’s tugging them off and you’re looking down at his cock straining impossibly hard against his boxers.

Dick doesn’t need to instruct you this time, and you’re hastily undressing him, allowing his achingly hard cock to spring free. You let out a breath at the sight of him, his leaking tip practically sore from neglect.

Your hands come up to hesitantly wrap around him, dragging his precum down his length to better stroke him. You do it painfully slow and he hisses through gritted teeth, jerking his hips into your hand which is so, so tiny compared to him.

“Am I doing this right?”

Your quizzical voice nearly makes him buckle, and he decides he’s had enough of not being inside of you.

“You’re perfect,” he promises, sliding a hand up the expanse of your thigh to squeeze your ass. “You’re more than perfect, but if you keep going, I’m going to cum all over your hand and that’s not what we’re practising today.”

You give him a sheepish smile, removing your warm hand and letting it rest by your side while he hovers over you.

Dick glances over your naked frame and nearly sighs aloud at the sight, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Are you ready?”

“Ready,” you say, nodding at him to continue.

Dick brings his length to your cunt and drags it up and down once to cover the tip in your slick, marvelling at the natural lubricant. He’s not going to need anything else to slip right in and when your body twitches at the feeling of his head dragging against your clit, he smirks.

And then he slips the tip right into you, slowly working you through the delicious burn as you gasp. In the back of his mind, he’s a little bit concerned that you haven’t bothered to ask him to wear a condom (not that he was going to — he knows exactly what birth control you’re on, it’s fine), but your compliance is so naive. He’s glad it’s just for him.

“Ohhh, fuck. You’re doing so well, you can take it,” he grunts out, trying to go further in as slow as possible. His hands are clenched around your sheets as he slowly pushes and pushes deeper into you. “You were made for this, weren’t you? Huh? You gonna take all of me?”

“Yes, please, please, please,” you mutter, voice hoarse and nearly inaudible.

“Please what?” Dick stills, not moving another inch as he freezes halfway inside of you. “What do you want me to do, baby? Use your words.”

“Dick,” you rasp out, trying to buck your hips up for more, but Dick grabs your waist and pins you down. You can’t move an inch when he does this. “Please, please, I want more!”

He leans down to chuckle in your ear before he buries himself into you, sinking all the way down to the hilt.

He only gives you a few seconds to adjust before he’s pulling out and slamming back into you. The cry that leaves you is so beautiful and Dick wants to hear it again and again and so, all of a sudden, he’s driving his hips right into you with a desperation.

His cock is stretching you out more than his fingers ever could and you’re so wonderfully tight that Dick can feel every last inch of your velvety walls wrapped around him, sucking him in like something vicious and needy.

You’re practically incoherent now, the whimpers that leave you are basically sobs as Dick fucks into you hard and fast.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he grits out, sweaty curls falling into his eyes as he doesn’t falter in his thrusts. He leans down to press his body against yours as he continues to pound your hot, weeping cunt. “You’re a fucking natural, you know that? You don’t need the practice, you’re perfect. He doesn’t even deserve you. Fuck, he doesn’t deserve to look at you, let alone fuck you.”

Dick’s control and flippant attitude is slipping as he mumbles the words against your skin, but what else can you expect when you’re scraping your nails down his back and pressing your tits against his chest? He doesn’t even care about fucking you under the guise of practice anymore and instead he’s whispering cruelly into your ear.

“You’re so fucking gone for my cock, I bet you can’t even remember his name,” he chuckles against the shell of your ear and you let out another sob, shaking your head frantically. “What is it, baby? What’s his name?”

“I don’t…” you trail off, jaw going slack and eyes rolling back into your head when Dick lifts up your leg to position it over his shoulder, hitting a brand new angle that makes your whole body tense and writhe. He repeats the question and you whine, arching your back even more as you clutch his bicep. “Fuck! I— I don’t know, oh my God, I don’t remember. Oh, Dick, please, it’s so good! You’re so fucking good, I can’t—”

Dick smirks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he pants. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

He leans back and brings your other leg over his other shoulder to drive his length into you impossibly deep and you scream his name so loudly that there’s no way your neighbours could miss it.

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours are so obscene in the otherwise quiet of your bedroom that he wishes he could record it to listen to the audio later. He makes a mental note for next time.

As soon as Dick feels your cunt begin to clench around him, he knows you’re close and fuck if he isn’t too. Sweat is coating his back and he feels out of control — you don’t look any better as there are tears of pleasure running down your cheeks, your tits bouncing with every thrust, the sheen of sweat over them catching in the light.

Fuck, he groans out a guttural noise as he picks up the pace to piston into you like a fucking machine. Reaching over in between your legs, he starts to rub quick circles into your clit with his thumb, leaning down to spit on it.

He watches with awe as his thumb rubs his spit into your cunt and the more he circles your clit, the harder he slams into you. Soon, you’re coming so hard that your body trembles with a high pitched whine and your nails are drawing blood down Dick’s back.

The way your cunt is clutching his cock through your orgasm makes him follow quickly and he’s as much of a wreck as you are, burying his face in your neck and sliding his arms under you to pull you close to him as his hips begin to falter. Before he knows it, Dick is shooting hot ropes of cum all over your walls with a choked groan.

It feels never ending, the way you’re milking him for all he’s worth and he decides he never wants to separate from you, keeping himself buried inside of you as he collapses onto you.

He leans most of his weight on his arms beside you, but he’s close enough to feel your racing heartbeat against his chest as you catch your breath.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart,” he pants, one of his hands coming over to rest on your belly where he traces his fingers. “So fucking good…”

Your lips curve up into a smile and although it’s tired, he can tell you’re pleased.

He presses soft kisses into your temple, still buried deep inside of you. Your legs stay wrapped around him and your arms encircle his broadness in a bear hug, not eager to let go any time soon.

Dick is such a good best friend, after all.

[retro-ivy]

[retro-ivy]

I need to be in a room with him in which there are no others

[retro-ivy]

you find him in your apartment. again. window cracked. boots still on. jacket slung over the back of your chair like it belongs there.

he’s sitting on your couch like he owns it, flipping through a half-read paperback he definitely didn’t bring. probably something you left lying around — some crime thriller he’s already tearing apart in his head.

“make yourself at home,” you say, dropping your keys.

he doesn’t look up. “already did. your lock’s still crap, by the way.”

“you say that every time you break in.”

“because it’s still true.” he finally glances at you, eyes tired but sharp. “what if i was someone else?”

“then you’d be bleeding on the floor right now.”

his mouth twitches. “cute.”

you toe off your shoes, drop your bag, move toward the kitchen. “what do you want, jason?”

“wow. straight to the point. no hi jay, how was patrol? want something to drink? here, take my couch and trample my boundaries some more?”

“you don’t drink anything that isn’t ninety percent caffeine or eighty proof.”

“true,” he says, stretching his legs out. “still rude.”

you eye him from the kitchen. his holsters are off, but the rest of the suit’s still there — the compression shirt, scuffed boots, scraped knuckles. he’s vibrating under the surface like he hasn’t slept in two days and isn’t planning to.

“you get hit again?” you ask, softer.

he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “nothing important.”

“so yes.”

“do you want a play-by-play? i can act it out, real dramatic. throw myself against a wall. bleed on your furniture.”

“you already bled on my rug last month.”

“and it really tied the room together.”

you exhale through your nose. grab a glass of water, bring it over. he takes it without comment, drinks half in one go.

“why are you here, jason?”

this time, he doesn’t have a joke ready. his fingers tap the side of the glass, jaw tight.

“quiet,” he mutters. “it’s quiet here.”

you sit beside him. not close. not far.

“you ever gonna just ask to stay?” you ask.

“don’t need to.” he leans his head back, eyes closed now. “you always let me.”

“that’s not the same thing.”

“yeah,” he says, voice rough. “i know.”

the silence stretches. his foot nudges yours, casual, like he didn’t mean to. like he did.

“you gonna yell at me if i fall asleep here?”

“depends.”

“on what?”

“if you do that thing where you mutter weird half-words and twitch like you’re being electrocuted.”

he opens one eye. “that’s called trauma. look it up.”

“ever heard of therapy?”

“yeah. didn’t vibe with being psychoanalyzed by someone who’s never been shot in the face. weird, right?”

you huff a laugh. he shifts a little closer, not quite touching.

“you still smell like gunpowder,” you say.

“better than blood.”

“barely.”

he doesn’t look at you right away. just stares ahead like he’s watching something you can’t see. then, like it costs him, he says,

“couldn’t sleep.”

that’s all he gives you. not can I crash here? not I don’t want to be alone. just that.

but with jason, that’s enough.

you don’t ask. you just nod toward the blanket on the armrest.

“you want that, or are you gonna steal mine like last time?”

“wasn’t stealing. it was strategic heat distribution.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“you say that a lot,” he murmurs, already leaning back into the cushions.

and still — he doesn’t leave.

not for hours.

[retro-ivy]

JASON TODD does not love you.

He says it in silence, in shrugs, in the scrape of his boots across your floor at 2:47 a.m., smelling like cordite and stormwater. He says it when he doesn't kiss you hello. When he stands in your doorway with hands in his pockets like they’re hiding something — not weapons, this time, just the fragile truth of him.

No, he doesn’t love you. Couldn’t.

His heart is an abandoned cathedral, echoing with gunfire and the names of people who never came back. His tenderness was smothered young — snuffed out in alleyways and interrogation rooms, in a casket buried too soon.

He learned that love was a ghost story. He came back wrong.

And yet—

you exist.

You, with your stupid smile and your socks mismatched, your warm vanilla and coconut scented hair, with your morning voice and the way you hold him like he’s not about to vanish again. You, who touch the sharp parts without pulling away. Who asks nothing and somehow still makes him want to give everything.

You cup his jaw when he’s spiraling, thumb grazing the old scar no one else dares to mention. You laugh at his worst jokes like they’re divine. You leave the bathroom light on because you know he doesn’t sleep well in the dark.

And that fucking terrifies him.

Because it would be easier if you were cruel. If you looked away. If you didn’t see him — all of him. The fury, the fracture, the failure.

But you do.

And he doesn’t know how to live with that.

So, no. Jason Todd does not love you.

He just thinks of you when he bleeds. He just reaches for you in his sleep. He just keeps a key to your apartment in the lining of his jacket, right next to the switchblade. He says your name like it doesn’t belong in his mouth, like it’s too clean for someone who’s been covered in blood more than sunlight.

He doesn’t love you. But if you asked him to stay—just once, just tonight— he’d hang up his guns. he’d learn how to breathe again. he’d try.

God help him, he’d try. He’d tear out the parts of himself that learned how to leave, just to stay this time.

[retro-ivy]

BRO THIS IS SO ME ALWAYS??? Anyone else????

Found on a post by @fic-dumpster

[retro-ivy]

”okay but are you normal about-“ no. I’m an insane pervert.

[retro-ivy]

Imagine hating on me but i spend my free time maladaptive daydreaming about getting raw dogged by fictional men