Bonjour, je m'applle Froyo (ou Ro) ★ 🧸 - je viens de 🇲🇾 - 18 - she/her/they/them - short hair bisexual baddie (soon blue hair... probably) - dick grayson's controversial young gf - ashley graham's sweetheart - biggest stephcass and chreon shipper ✊
written by mckenna grace ᢉ𐭩
Masterlist -
Detective comics/Dc!
Kara Zor El - I can be a better boyfriend than him
Damian Wayne - 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦'𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘰, 𝘮𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘶! (but I don't want to go back, I know it!)
summary : doing your makeup while sitting on leon's lap
notes : really self indulgent tbh
credits to the owner of the divider!
leon was feeling incredibly clingy today and you'd love to indulge him at his antics but sadly, you have work.
as soon as you woke up earlier, leon was trying to get you back to bed while mumbling incoherently and making some grabby hands at you. your boyfriend is so cute to be honest, but you cant miss work today cause you have an important meeting with some heads so with a kiss on his forehead, you immediately went to get ready and made some quick breakfast.
you ate and drank your coffee at the kitchen alone, thinking that leon will probably wake up later but after finishing up, you decided that you'll bring some cup of coffee for him if he wants to spend his morning in the bedroom.
"why are you awake already?". you asked in confusion when you finally went back in your room with a steaming mug of coffee to do your make up and you saw leon getting out of the bathroom.
"cant sleep without you". he grumbled as he scratches his tummy while walking towards you.
you just shook your head in amusement at him while you went to your closet to finally change into some work clothes. just a simple black pencil skirt, paired with some brown silky long sleeve top. then after adjusting everything, you went to your vanity but you found leon sitting on your plush chair.
"baby, go back to sleep". you softly said as you ran a hand through his hair. you know he's still tired considering he actually just got back from a long week mission yesterday night.
a week of being away from each other, only texts and phone calls are keeping you both sane.
leon hummed against your touch before he wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you gently on to his lap. he squeezed you tight causing you to smile and give him a kiss on his head again.
guess youre doing your make up on his lap today.
with that, both of you just let the silence fill the room while you started putting on your makeup and he's just feeling you up and observing you. from time to time, he takes the mug of warm coffee from the table that you brought with you earlier and takes a sip.
the warmth of the coffee and your weight on him makes him sigh in delight, he missed this. it was only a week but he missed this.
"whats that?". he mumbled as he watched you put something thin on your eyelids.
"eyeliner, its a new brand too". you told him as you finished up putting it before closing your eyes and turned your head towards him. "blow, please".
obediently, he carefully blows on your eyes to make the eyeliner dry. he did it for a few more seconds while his thumb on your thigh caressed the skin.
so soft and warm.
you smiled at him when you finally opened your eyes and leon swore he fell in love again. he watched you put down the eyeliner down on the table and you took another small pink bottle with a circle top on it. you opened it gingerly and tapped the applicator lightly on your hand before closing it back up.
leon kissed your shoulder as you spread the blush on your hand with a finger before patting it on your cheeks and blending it while looking through the mirror infront of you. when you blended everything, you figured its time to put some powder on your face before layering it with a powder blush soon.
"looks so beautiful". he hummed as he watches you through the mirror. he loves the way your blush highlights your apple cheeks.
he watched you put more stuffs on your cheeks and dusting it with some small dab of highlighter. you smiled at him through the mirror before your hands rummaged through your pouch of lippies.
"should i put some lip liner on today?". you asked as you glanced down at the pouch and eyed the different colors.
"sure, hun". he honestly dont know whats a lip liner but he's sure its going to go on your lips, your kissable lips.
you beamed and you took a neutral color one before you leaned more forward towards the mirror with leon holding your hips tightly to not let you fall. you spread the liner with a finger along the bows and ends of your lips after putting it on then you picked a lip gloss.
"wanna kiss you". leon said as he watched you glide the lip gloss on your lips before smacking it together.
you laughed softly at him as you closed the product before you moved closer and wrapped your arms around his neck. he looked at you with heavy lidded eyes but the love in it is so present that you cant help but blush a little.
your hand found the hairs on his nape and you played with it softly as you gazed upon his soft eyes too. sleepy and clingy leon is such a sight for you. he's just so cute and lovely.
"pick me up later?". you asked softly.
"of course, hun". he gave you a sleepy smile and you leaned down to press your forehead against his. "i missed you so much".
"i missed you more, baby". you whispered before pressing your glossy lips on his causing him to hum.
✚ Rapper!Martin x fan!Reader ⋮ oneshot ⋮ bananagirl masterlist
desc - you’ve been a fan of martins music since before he was on all streaming platforms, since before he was doing live performances and headlining for famous artists. And one day he suddenly deleted your favorite niche song of his off all platforms and you thought the best thing to do is to DM him about it, even though you knew he would never see it in the floods of all his DMs.
note - listen I know I said I was going on hiatus but I got really bored and js wanted to post smth so I made this BUT AS SOON AS I POST THIS I WILL OFFICIALLY BE ON HIATUS I NEED TO GET OFF TUMBLR HOLY SHIT ITS AN ADDICTION 😭😭🙏🙏
SUMMARY a feminist podcast roasts a boyband live on air, and Keonho makes the mistake of getting intrigued by the one girl who refuses to be impressed.
PAIRING idol Keonho x podcaster Yn / female reader
FEATURING CORTIS, ILLIT Wonhee, NewJeans Hyein, H2H Ian, mentions of other idols
GENRE social media au with written parts, romance, slow burn, crack, fluff (tba)
WARNINGS umm lots of jokes? swearing, complete roasting of the male kind (= hopecore), kys/kym, underage drinking, tba
STATUS started may 25
PLAYLIST REDRED - CORTIS, 3005 - Childish Gambino, Boy’s a liar Pt. 2 - PinkPantheress & Ice Spice, Lush Life - Zara Larsson, WE GO - fromis_9, Right Back! - KARLEE GIRL, All I Wanna Do (Korean Version) - Jay Park, Weekend - TAEYEON
AUTHOR’S NOTE sorry guys, i somehow always end up writing for keonho TT but i love this trope and i love roasting men so this was made for me (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)
AUTHOR’S NOTE 2 please remember this is a work of fiction so all the characters personalities aren’t really as described in this! and all are jokes so please do not take any of those personally or seriously :)
Pairing: Vendetta drunk!Leon x ex!reader
Words: 3563 words
Warnings: mentions of smoking, Leon being drunk
Plot: After everything Leon had to go through and right before the events of Vendetta, he was never good at moving on from you, just better at pretending he had. So when he calls you late at night, voice slurred and unsteady, it's no surprise he's been drinking. What is surprising is how quickly the mask slips when he hears your voice. He doesn't joke, doesn't deflect. He just says it painfully, as it hurts too much to hold in any longer: he still loves you, he never stopped, and he doesn't know how to stop missing you.
A/N: Heyyy! I have to say that Vendetta Leon is not one of my favorite versions of him, but I absolutely loved writing this with him 😭 hope you guys enjoy it ❤
Taglist: let me know if you want to be added!
Rain hit the apartment windows in a steady rhythm, soft enough to blend into the low static of the television playing somewhere in the background. Leon barely looked at it. The screen cast dull blue light across the room, catching the mess scattered around the coffee table. Half-empty whiskey bottle, loose papers from a report he still hadn't finished, ashtray overflowing even though he's promised himself he would quit weeks ago. Maybe months ago. Time had stopped feeling very clear lately. Sitting heavily on the couch, Leon rolled the glass between his fingers before taking another slow sip. The whiskey burned less than it used to. At this point, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. His tie hung loose around his neck, sleeves pushed up carelessly to his elbows. There was dried blood near one of his knuckles from a mission earlier that week. He hadn't even bothered cleaning it properly.
The apartment was too quiet. That was the problem. Silence always gave his thoughts too much room to breathe. Leon leaned forward with a tired sigh, grabbing the remote just to lower the television even more before dropping it back onto the couch beside him. His eyes drifted across the room without really focusing on anything until they landed on the small cardboard box sitting near the kitchen counter. He stared at it for a moment. Then looked away. Bad idea. He poured himself another drink, already spiraling over things he thought he buried for good. The whiskey settled warm and heavy in his chest as he tipped his head back against the couch cushions, eyes falling shut for a second longer than intended. God, he was tired. Not the kind of tired sleep fixed, though.
Outside, thunder rumbled somewhere far off. Leon reached blindly for the cigarette pack on the table, only to realize it was empty. A quiet curse slipped under his breath. “Perfect.“ His voice sounded rough from disuse. Pushing himself up with a groan, he crossed the apartment towards the kitchen, grabbing another pack from the counter. That was when he saw it again. That box. Still half open, still full of your things. A hoodie, a book you forgot, a hair tie around the handle of one of his old mugs. Leon went still. For a long moment, he just stared at it with an unreadable expression, a cigarette hanging, forgotten, between his fingers. He should've thrown it out months ago. Instead, he found himself stepping closer before he could stop himself. His hand moved almost automatically, fingers brushing lightly over the hoodie sleeve. Soft fabric, way more familiar than he expected. It still smelled faintly like you and, to be honest, that nearly fucking killed him.
Leon let out a shaky breath through his nose and laughed once under it, bitter and exhausted. “Fuck…” He grabbed the whiskey bottle from the counter and took another long drink straight from it this time. The apartment felt even quieter now, heavy, almost suffocating. Without really thinking, Leon reached for his phone resting beside the sink. His thumb hovered over your contact. Still pinned at the top, still there. He stared at your name for a long moment. He knew it was a terrible idea. He knew it even now, half-drunk and exhausted enough that his thoughts felt slow. You probably wouldn't answer anyway, and he would have preferred that. Because if you answered, he wasn't sure what he'd even say. Another distant rumble of thunder shook lightly through the apartment. Leon swallowed hard before taking one last drink straight from the bottle, grimacing slightly as the burn settled deep in his chest. Then, before he could talk himself out of the idea, he pressed call. The rigntone filled the apartment immediately. Too loud, too late to hang up now. He dragged a hand down his face as it rang once. Twice. Three times. Each second made the knot in his chest tighter. By the fourth ring, he had almost ended the call. But then he heard you. “…Hello?“ Leon froze. Your voice came through rough with sleep, quiet and confused, and suddenly every bit of alcohol in his system stopped feeling warm.
For a second, he couldn't talk, he just stood there in the middle of the kitchen, fingers tightening slightly around the phone while rain tapped softly against the windows behind him. “…Shit.“ He muttered under his breath. A small pause followed. “Leon?“ Hearing you say his name nearly hurt. He closed his eyes briefly before leaning back against the counter. “Yeah.“ He answered quietly. Your side of the line stayed silent for a moment too long. Not awkward, but careful. “Are you okay?“ You asked. The question caught him off guard enough to make him laugh softly. Not because it was funny, but more because he didn't really know how to answer it anymore. “Yeah…” He said automatically. Another pause. “No, not really…” He admitted then, quieter this time. You sat up a little in your bed at that. The digital clock beside you glowed 2:17AM in the darkness of your apartment while Leon's uneven breathing crackled softly through the speaker. And then you noticed it. The slight slowness in his words, the roughness in his voice. “…Have you been drinking?“ Leon tilted his head back against the cabinet behind him. “Maybe.“ He said quietly. “Leon.“ A tired sigh escaped him. “Okay,” he admitted. “Yeah.“ You rubbed your face, trying to wake yourself up enough to process this properly.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. It had been months since the breakup, months since you'd heard his voice like this. And somehow it still felt familiar enough to make your chest ache immediately. “You shouldn't be calling me this late.“ You finally murmured. “I know.“ Yet he made no move to hang up. You could hear him shifting slightly on the other end before the faint sound of a lighter clicked through the speaker. Still smoking. Of course he was. Leon inhaled quietly before speaking again. “I didn't think you'd answer…” He admitted. “You called me four times in a row…” You explained. “…Oh.“ You heard him pull the phone away slightly, probably checking the call log. “Right…” Despite yourself, you almost smiled. Almost. A heavy silence settled again after that. It was surprisingly not empty, just full of things neither of you knew how to say anymore. Then Leon spoke again, voice lower this time. “I just wanted to hear you for a minute.“ The words settled heavily between you, painfully honest. On the other end of the line, you could hear the faint crackle of his cigarette and the distant sound of rain somewhere outside his apartment. You tightened your grip slightly on the phone. “Leon…” “Sorry.“ He murmured, immediately cutting you off, like instinct. “I know I shouldn't have called.“ His voice came out sincere. “But you did.“ A quiet exhale left him. “Yeah.“
You shifted against the pillows behind you, trying to ignore how familiar this felt already. Late-night calls, his tired voice, the long silences that somehow said more than actual conversations ever did. Only now there was a distance sitting between every sentence. “You sound tired.“ You said softly. “That obvious?“ He laughed under his breath. “You always get quieter when you're exhausted.“ The comment slipped out naturally before you could even think about it. You heard the way his breathing caught slightly on the other end. Like he noticed it too, like some part of you still knew him too well. For a few seconds, neither of you spoke again. Then Leon broke the silence. “How've you been?“ The question sounded careful and hesitant, like he wasn't sure he still had the right to ask. “I've been okay.“ You answered softly. “Just okay?“ You glanced down at the blanket gathered loosely in your lap. “I mean… work's been busy.“ He hummed in response. “And I've been sleeping more.“ You added. “That's good.“ His answer came too fast, too automatic. You could practically picture him nodding absently while staring at the floor. “What about you?“ You asked quietly. The silence that followed told you enough before he even answered. “…Same old stuff.“ He avoided giving many details. “Leon.“ You sounded completely unconvinced. He let out another scoff. “Missions, paperwork, government bullshit.“ He paused for a second too long. “You know, the usual.“ And underneath it all, exhaustion.
You leaned your head lightly against the wall behind your bed. “You still in that apartment?“ You asked. “Yeah…” He admitted as if he was hiding something. “You still hate it?“ A faint laugh escaped him this time. Low and rough. “Every single day.“ That finally pulled a small smile from you. “I told you the lighting in that place was depressing.“ You said, smiling a little bit wider at the memory. “Yeah, well,” you heard him take another drag from his cigarette. “You were the only thing making it tolerable.“ The moment the words left his mouth, silence crashed down again. Leon cursed quietly. “Sorry, forget I said that.“ But you couldn't. Not when his voice had sounded so genuine saying it. You swallowed slowly, eyes fixed somewhere distant in the dark room. “Have you eaten anything tonight?“ The question came out before you could stop it. And suddenly Leon went completely quiet. No sarcastic response, no deflection, just silence. When he finally spoke again, his voice sounded smaller somehow. “…No.“ Your chest tightened painfully. Of course, he hadn't.
Leon had always been terrible at taking care of himself, but after the breakup, it had gotten worse. You could hear it in him now, in the exhaustion dragging down every word, in the way his voice sounded hollow beneath the alcohol. “When was the last time you slept properly?“ You asked quietly. A dry laugh escaped him. “Define properly.“ He joked. “Leon.“ You sounded serious. “What? A couple of hours here and there counts.“ He muttered, softer this time. You pinched the bridge of your nose. Some things really never change. Through the phone, you heard him moving around the apartment before the dull sound of a cabinet opening echoed faintly. Probably looking for anything edible. The thought made your chest ache more than it should have. “You still keep soup in that cabinet above the stove?“ You asked. He paused for a second. “…Yeah.“ He finally said. “Heat some up.“ He huffed quietly, almost amused. “You bossing me around now?“ He joked softly. “You called me drunk at 2AM,” you replied. “I think I earned the right.“ Another silence settled between both of you. But this time it was different, softer. You listened to the quiet sounds of him moving through the kitchen. The microwave door opened. Closed. A timer beeped. It sounded too domestic, too normal. It honestly hurt.
Leon leaned back against the counter while he waited, phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. “I forgot you remembered stuff like that,” he admitted suddenly. “Remembered what?“ You frowned faintly. “Everything.“ His voice had gone quieter again. “The soup, the cigarettes, the way I can't sleep unless the TV's on.“ A pause. “You always noticed small things.“ Your throat tightened. Then Leon laughed softly under his breath, though there wasn't any real humor in it. “I think that was part of the problem.“ He added suddenly. “What do you mean?“ You asked, confused. Another long pause stretched between you before he answered. “You knew me too well.“ The words hit harder than expected. You sat there silently while thunder rumbled somewhere outside. Leon rubbed tiredly at his jaw, eyes fixed on nothing. “I used to think if anyone saw every ugly part of me…” he said slowly, voice rough, “they'd leave eventually.“ Your heart ached immediately. “Leon-.“ “And you did.“ The sentence wasn't angry, and that was the worst part. No bitterness, no accusation, just tired acceptance. You swallowed hard. “That's not why I left.“ You said, barely above a whisper. “I know.“ But he sounded like he still blamed himself anyway.
The microwave beeped softly in the background, ignored completely. Leon stared down at the counter, fingers tightening slightly around the edge of it. “I tried really hard after you left,” he admitted quietly. “To stop thinking about you.“ You stopped breathing for a second. “I kept telling myself it'd pass eventually.“ He let out another tired laugh. “Turns out alcohol's not exactly a miracle cure.“ He sounded like he was regretting all the life choices that took him to this exact point in life. “Leon…” You tried to say, but he couldn't let you finish. Because if he did, he knew he would miss his chance. “I still look for you sometimes.“ The confession came so suddenly that it made your heart stutter. His voice dropped lower after that. “Every time I get home…” He paused as if he was trying to find the right words. “I still expect the lights to be on.“ You pressed your lips together hard enough to hurt. Because you knew exactly what he meant. And judging by the silence on his end, Leon knew you did too. “I know we ended things for a reason,” he murmured. “I know I screwed it up.“ Another pause followed. “But God…” His voice cracked slightly for the first time that night. “You were the only thing that ever felt safe to come home to…” The words left him raw, like they'd been dragged out of somewhere deep in his chest instead of spoken willingly.
After that, neither of you said anything for a long time. You could still hear the rain outside his apartment, the faint hum of the microwave he'd forgotten about, his breathing, uneven now, quieter than before. Your throat felt painfully tight, because this wasn't the Leon you were used to. Not the sarcastic agent who brushed everything off with tired jokes. Not the man who avoided every serious conversation until it was too late. This was just… Leon. Exhausted, lonely, hurting. And somehow that hurt even more to hear. On the other end of the line, Leon dragged a shaky hand down his face before finally speaking again. “I shouldn't be telling you this…” He said quietly. “Then why are you?“ A small silence followed. And when he answered, his voice sounded almost embarrassed. “Because I think if I don't say it now…” He swallowed thickly. “I never will.“ Your chest tightened hard enough to ache. The television in the background filled the quiet for a moment before Leon muted it completely. Suddenly, all you could hear was him breathing softly into the phone. “I spent months trying to convince myself that breaking up with you was the right thing,” he admitted. “Thought maybe if you got far enough away from me, you'd finally get to be happy.“ You squeezed your eyes shut. “Leon…” You felt a tear streaming down your cheek. “No, listen.“ His voice stayed soft. “I know I wasn't easy to love.“ His voice dropped to something more miserable. “That's not true.“ A weak laugh escaped him. “It kinda is.“ You heard him shift slightly before continuing. “I kept disappearing, I stopped talking, I made you carry all the heavy stuff by yourself.“ Each sentence sounded heavier than the last. “And you still stayed.“ The crack in his voice that time nearly destroyed you.
Once again, it sounded like he regretted every moment that led to this call. To losing you. “I thought leaving was the least selfish thing I could do.“ He whispered. Another heavy silence followed until he finally said it. “That didn't make me stop loving you, though…” Your breath caught. Leon let out a quiet exhale, almost shaky now. “I tried really hard to kill that part.“ A humorless laugh slipped out. “But turns out I'm not very good at it.“ You couldn't speak. Actually, you could barely breathe. And somewhere on the other side of the city, standing alone in his dim kitchen with a cigarette burning forgotten between his fingers, Leon finally said the thing he'd probably been holding back for months. Softly, simply, like it physically hurt to admit. “I still love you.“ The room around him went completely silent. No thunder, no television, no movement. Just those four words sitting heavily between both of you. And for the first time all night, Leon sounded scared of the silence that followed them. “…Sorry,” he murmured quietly. “Forget I said that.“
The apology barely left his mouth before the line went dead. “Leon-.“ Too late. You pulled the phone away from your ear in disbelief, staring at the call screen for a few silent seconds before it faded completely. Call ended. Your chest felt unbearably tight. “What the hell…” You whispered under your breath. He had just confessed he still loved you after months of silence, only to disappear before you could even answer. Typical Leon. You leaned back against the headboard, heartbeat still uneven while rain continued softly outside your apartment windows. Sleep was completely impossible now. Because the worst part was that he sounded sincere. Not manipulative, not impulsive. Just… honest. Like the alcohol had finally dragged the truth out of him. Your thumb hovered over your messages for a long moment. You shouldn't text him. You definitely shouldn't text him emotionally at nearly three in the morning after he called drunk out of nowhere. And yet… Before you could stop yourself, you typed:
You don't get to say something like that and disappear before I answer. And for the record… I never stopped loving you either. I was just tired of feeling like you were trying to survive everything alone.
I didn't leave because I stopped loving you, Leon.
I left because I felt like you stopped letting me love you.
You stared at the message for a full minute before finally hitting send. Almost immediately, regret hit. Too much, way too honest. You dropped your phone onto the bed beside you and covered your face with both hands. A minute passed. Then another. Finally, your phone buzzed softly beside you. You grabbed it so fast it was embarrassing. Only one thing waited for you on the screen. A single red heart. Nothing else. No explanation, no words, just a red heart. And somehow it meant more than an entire paragraph could have.
Leon didn't sleep that night. He stayed sitting on the kitchen floor long after the cigarette between his fingers had burned out completely, phone resting loosely in his hands while your message stayed open on the screen. Over and over again, he reread it. I never stopped loving you either. Every single time, his chest tightened painfully. The apartment still smelled like whiskey and smoke. The untouched soup sat cold on the counter, and rain still hit the windows. But for the first time in months, the silence around him didn't feel completely empty. Around four in the morning, Leon finally stood up slowly from the floor. His gaze drifted towards the half-empty bottle sitting on the counter. He stared at it for a long moment. Then quietly unscrewed the cap, walked to the sink, and poured the rest of it down the drain. The cigarette pack was thrown into the trash can a few seconds later.
The next afternoon, a soft knock echoed through your apartment. You frowned slightly, pulling open the door without thinking much of it. And you froze immediately. Leon stood there on the other side, looking exhausted. Dark circles under his blue eyes, jacket wrinkled, hair darker than usual. But sober, completely sober. In one hand sat the old cardboard box full of your stuff, in the other… coffee. Your usual order. For a second, neither of you spoke. Leon looked strangely nervous standing there, shifting the box slightly against his hip before finally letting out a quiet breath. “I figured,” he started roughly, “maybe we should talk when I'm not drunk and emotionally ruining your night.“ Despite everything, a small laugh escaped you. God, you'd missed him. Leon's shoulders relaxed slightly at the sound. Then his eyes met yours properly for the first time since the breakup. And every bit of guarded exhaustion in his expression softened immediately. “I meant what I said yesterday,” he admitted quietly. “All of it.“ Your throat tightened again. The box slipped slightly in his grip as he looked down at it briefly. “I was gonna bring this stuff back months ago… But I'm apparently incapable of letting you go.“ He said with a tired huff. “You kept my hoodie for six months.“ You said, seeing the sleeve peeking out of the box. “It was comfortable.“ You stared at him for a second before shaking your head, smiling a little. And something about that expression on you, soft, familiar, and warm, completely unveiled him. Because Leon suddenly realized this was the first time in months he'd shown up somewhere without smelling like alcohol or smoke. The first time, he actually wanted to try, really try. Not because someone ordered him to or because a mission depended on it. But because he loved you enough to finally understand that surviving wasn't the same thing as living. Slowly, you stepped aside from the doorway, inviting him in. And for the first time in a very long time, Leon followed without feeling alone.
short | fluff | smut | “wiping my drink after him”
synopsis: you try a trend on jason by wiping your bottle after he takes a sip. clearly he doesn’t appreciate it.
a/n: was supposed to be fluff but i’m freaked out sorry
it’s nearly 10pm when jason comes home from patrol. he had planned to get here earlier and switched his shift with dick all because you told him you finished work.
without even asking if you wanted him to do so, he just did it.
“baby?” he calls out as he shuts the front door.
you’re sitting on your bed, practically buzzing as you’d just been scrolling on tiktok and saw a trend you just had to try on him.
“i’m in here jay,” you reply from your bed, fingers idle on the screen as you quickly place it on the nightstand.
enough to capture the both of you.
heavy footsteps approach the room and he opens the door with sweat wicking his brow. he gives a low hum as he takes on the sight of engulfed in one of his t-shirt, a habit you’d taken when you missed him and wanted him home. curled up in your comforter with just your torso peaking out, jason plops right on top of you. no care in his sweat on your skin now of his weight resting on you entirely. you giggle as you run your fingers through his hair.
“don’t you think you should, i don’t know, shower before you come into bed?” no real annoyance behind your words.
he nuzzles even closer to you, shakes his head in the crook of your neck. almost like he’s motorboating your neck.
“nah, i’ll wash the sheets in the morning. they’ll need it after i’m done with you.”
the heat reaches your face and a fluttery feeling sits low in your stomach. he always knew how to throw the words back at you. but alas, the show must go on. you stroke his hair back once more, cupping his face with both hands to kiss his sweet face. jason melts into it immediately, but he shrugs like he were shy from this attention. when you pull away, a piece of him was disappointed.
“you hungry?” you ask him. “i was gonna make something to eat.”
he shakes his head, “don’t worry about it. i came home to take care of you. i’ll cook.”
you raise a brow as you reach for your water bottle, ready to play in his face. “take care of me? i’m a grown adult babe.”
he watches as you lift the bottle to your lips, his eyes trained hard on how they part and press against it. taking in how your throat swallows down the water and he gulps in anticipation as though he was drinking it too. his lips part as he leans in to kiss you again. though this time, you bring the bottle between you and put it to his lips.
“you look dehydrated,” you say like it’s the easiest thing in the world. tilting your head slightly and watching the gears turn in his head. “have you been using the bottle i bought you?”
he sighs and nods, “yes but i like using yours.”
sitting up enough to take the bottle and take a long sip. probably draining your ice cold water from how thirsty he was and didn’t even realize. he makes a sound of approval and hands it back to you when you do the unspeakable.
you take the bottle from him, lift your opposing hand and wipe it with your sleeve. jason is absolutely dumbstruck. his lips part in confusion as his brows furrow. he looks to you, then the bottle and then back to you again. he scoffs softly and then points at the bottle.
“the fuck was that?”
he’s blinking hard at you and waiting for a response. you just take a long sip and furrow your brows back.
“what do you mean jay? i’m drinking water?” feigning confusion.
“you just wiped me off of it i’m some freeloader, with germs and shit.”
you can’t control your laughter and shake your head at him. “i’m just wiping your spit off of it jason. it’s not a big deal.”
then he’s stammering, pointing between you and the bottle again. “but babe you just kissed me! how is that any different! wait, does my breath smell?” before he leans back and puts his hand in front of his mouth and breathes out to sniff his breath. “i didn’t smoke or anything and i brushed my teeth i swear.”
this only makes you laugh harder, pushing this chest and grasping tightly at he bottle in your hands. jason only seems to get even more confused. he sits up completely and watches you giggle to yourself, finding this entire thing amusing. jason however, does not. but he knows you, and he knows you have never cared about germs with him before. besides, you live in gotham, it’s hardly the cleanliest place to live.
with a loud scoff, he takes the water bottle from your hands and tongues at the mouth piece. he fully lets his tongue fall out of him mouth and licks it all around before pulling back and handing it to you. you grimace a little at the wet sheen on it.
“ew jay, what the hell.” holding the bottle like something toxic.
“take a sip.” he says with the most stern expression you’d ever seen on him.
oh, he was pissed.
you decide to play along longer and shake your head in defiance at him.
he blinks at you, “i’d let you spit in my mouth and you’re sitting here telling me you won’t drink from the same bottle as me?”
“no, not until i wash your slobber off of it.”
that’s when he huffs out a kid throwing a tantrum and grabs the bottle from your hand, mumbling in his breath. you watch him with genuine confusion while he is the one to take another sip before grabbing your chin and pulling you closer.
he squeezes your cheeks until your lips part and spits the water directly into your mouth. you make a sound of surprise the sudden intrusion makes your eyes widen but you were definitely not opposed. you swallow it down immediately. he keeps his hold on your cheeks as he squints and a small smile begins to take form on his face.
“you liking this,” he states rather than asks.
the contagious smile takes home on your face as you stare back at him and nod. “it’s a prank.”
“ha,” he says flatly, “now can you lay back down please?”
sighing as you lay down for him, he immediately follows after you. weight resting directly over you like a weighted blanket that wouldn’t budge if you tried. when you squirm a little, he wraps his arms over yours so you’re bracketed between him and the mattress. then he really does give you some sloppy, wet kisses that leave a trail in its wake.
he’s mumbling lowly as he starts to tug on your shirt, pulling the fabric up and huffing like he’s still annoyed. kisses getting a little rougher as he starts to bite the flesh beneath it and knead it with his teeth. you can’t help but tilt back for him.
“slobber, huh? i’ll show you slobber.” murmuring against yours skin enough to tickle you. he pulls his head up to look at you while you’re still giggling, “okay jokes over. was gonna do all the work but—”
jason lifts you from beneath him and places you firm onto his lap. hand tight in your hip as you straddle him and he settles his back on the headboard. he clears his throat and something behind his light eyes darken enough to tell you you were really in for it now. the thick bulge beneath you was unmistakable now. you open your mouth in a gasp and say his name.
“there’s no way that turned you on.” making the horrible mistake of letting a giggle out again.
he breathes out of his nose and pinches your side to make you jolt. groaning like he’s not the cause of you moving around and tightening his hold on you so you’d stop moving.
“i spat in your mouth. of course i’m hard.” he sighs as his fingers slide across the waistband of your underwear and tug them just to let them snap. you jolt again but he doesn’t stop you from moving or say anything about the desperate sound you make at the friction.
instead, jason smiles a little harder, “go ahead then.”
guiding your hips back and forth until your breath caught in your throat and you grips his shoulders for dear life. you breathe out his name again but it’s barely a whisper. he tsks and bucks up into you, dragging his hard length against your clothed core. you were dangerously close and he’s just grinning like he’s already won. your hips with a mind of his own as you chase your own release, dragging your hands down his chest and pushing him further into the mattress. you’re already a mess, panting heavily and saying his name.
one of his hands come up to the back of your head and pulls you down towards him, whispering lowly in your ear.
“there you go ma, take what’s yours.”
movements getting sloppy and uneven while he’s keeping you folded against him. one strong palm kept your faces close and the other moved you in accordance what he knew got you there. he knew you were a gone before you let go, gasping and stilling just for him to continue moving against you.
you’re catching your breath when he finally stops and kisses the side of your face sloppily again. his hands rubbed up and down your back like he’s soothing you. but this time, he’s the one laughing while he whispers in your ear like a coo.
divider by: cafekitsune
word count: 4.4k
synopsis: Getting pulled over on a deserted Blüdhaven backroad was supposed to mean a lecture from your boyfriend. Instead, the uniform stays on, the handcuffs come out, and Officer Grayson decides to handle your speeding habit with some hands-on, deeply punishing "community service."
a/n: Alrighty, first request has officially been written! 🤍
I hope you enjoy, nonnie — the second I received this request I immediately got excited and started working on it nonstop these last few days! It was genuinely such a fun one to write.
Also, before anyone says anything: yes, I know pepper spray is legal in parts of the US but it isn’t legal in Canada, so for the sake of the fic I slightly bent the US laws to match the Canadian ones. Creative liberties were taken.
warnings: MDNI, 18+
There was one thing anyone who knew you could agree on: you loved to drive a little too fast. In fact, that heavy right foot of yours was the exact reason you met your boyfriend, Dick. He had pulled you over for speeding a little over a year ago. Hoping to flirt your way out of a hefty ticket, you had flashed him a smile and started teasing him—which somehow resulted in you agreeing to go to dinner with him. One thing led to another, and you’ve been inseparable ever since.
However, despite dating an officer of the law, you still couldn't shake the habit of stepping on the gas pedal just a little too hard. You especially loved the winding, rural backroads, where you figured no cops would ever bother to linger.
Until tonight.
The moment the familiar, blinding flash of red and blue lights illuminated your rearview mirror, a sharp curse escaped your lips. Pulling over to the gravel shoulder, your stomach sank. Dick was never going to let you hear the end of this lecture, especially since you were definitely getting a ticket this time.
Sighing, you fished your license and registration out of your visor, waiting for the officer to approach. But the second the figure stepped into the glow of your driver's side window, your eyes widened.
"You asshole," you breathed, a breathless laugh escaping you as you looked up at your boyfriend. "You scared the shit out of me."
Yet, Dick didn't smile. His expression remained completely blank, masked by a cool, detached professionalism that made your stomach do a weird little flip. "License and registration, please."
You scoffed, leaning back in your seat. "Are you serious?"
"Ma'am, I need to see your license and registration," he repeated.
"Dick, come on," you huffed, crossing your arms.
"Ma'am, I won't ask a third time." His voice was entirely devoid of the warmth you usually woke up to.
He looked devastatingly good in his Blüdhaven Police Department uniform—the dark blue fabric was crisp, and his silver badge caught the dimming twilight. His hands rested casually near his utility belt, but his posture was tense.
Grumbling under your breath, you shoved your license and registration through the open window. He took them, his fingers brushing against yours. Usually, that slight contact would prompt a secret squeeze or a wink, but tonight? Nothing. He merely glanced down at the cards, then back up at you.
"Do you know how fast you were going, Miss Y/N?"
"I was going... a little over," you muttered, leaning back into your seat.
"You were doing eighty in a fifty, on a winding backroad with zero streetlights," Dick corrected. His tone dropped into that authoritative cadence he used when he was genuinely unhappy about something. "If a deer had jumped out, or if your tire had caught the gravel on the shoulder, you’d be wrapped around a tree before you could even hit the brakes."
You softened slightly, realizing the sternness wasn't just him playing a part—he was worried about you. You sighed, the annoyance completely draining out of you. "I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to get home to see you faster."
A tiny, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his stoic facade. But he caught himself, clearing his throat as he stepped back toward his cruiser. "Wait here."
"Oh, come on!" you called out, but he was already walking away, his hips swaying just enough to remind you exactly why you’d agreed to that first dinner date a year ago.
You sat in the quiet cabin of your car, watching him in your rearview mirror as he leaned against the hood of his cruiser, pretending to run your perfectly clean record. The red and blue lights continued to flash, painting the dark interior of your car in rhythmic pulses of colour.
After a gruelling five minutes, he finally walked back. But instead of just handing the documents through the window, he reached down and pulled open your driver's side door.
You blinked up at him, genuinely surprised. "Am I under arrest, Officer?"
"Step out of the vehicle, please," he said. His voice had finally lost that rigid, robotic edge, replaced by something much lower and smoother.
Curious, you unbuckled and stepped out onto the gravel shoulder. The night air was cool, rustling the thick canopy of trees around you. The moment your feet hit the ground, Dick closed the gap between you, crowding you back against the frame of your car.
He didn't hand you a ticket. Instead, he carelessly tossed your license and registration onto the driver's seat, planted his hands on the roof of the car on either side of your head, and leaned in close.
"I’m gonna have to check to ensure you have no weapons on you," he stated flatly. "Turn around. Hands on the roof."
Your eyebrow quirked as you caught the slight, wicked twinkle in his eyes. "Yes, Officer," you murmured, doing exactly as he said.
You felt his large, warm hands slide along your shoulders, tracing down your chest and your sides. His palms traveled lower, sliding over your ass and giving it a firm, possessive squeeze before moving back to the front of your waist, where your keys were hooked to a belt loop. He unclipped the carabiner, raising the keys up to eye level to inspect the small, pink canister attached to the ring.
"Well, well, well. Pepper spray is considered a weapon," he drawled, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "I’m gonna have to arrest you. Hands behind your back."
"Dick, you gave that to me," you stated, looking back at him.
"It’s Officer Grayson to you, and I won’t repeat myself," he ordered, his eyes darkening with playful authority. "Hands behind your back."
You slowly did as you were told. Your eyes widened a fraction as you felt the cold bite of metal around your wrists. The handcuffs clicked shut, the sharp, metallic snap of the mechanism echoing clearly in the quiet night air. You flexed your fingers, testing the tautness of the chain, a genuine laugh bubbling up from your chest.
"Okay, Grayson, you’ve had your fun," you said, glancing over your shoulder at him. "Uncuff me."
You weren’t sure what your boyfriend was trying to prove, but it had been a long day. You were tired, and the patience you had for his little games was starting to dwindle.
But Dick didn't budge. He stepped in close, his solid chest pressing firmly against your back, his warmth instantly cutting through the crisp night air. He leaned down, his lips brushing the sensitive skin right below your ear and sending a sharp shiver down your spine.
"I told you, it’s Officer Grayson," he murmured, his voice a low, raspy purr that went straight to your core. "And I don’t negotiate with dangerous speeders who carry unregistered chemical agents."
"Unregistered? You literally bought it for me on Amazon because you were worried about me walking to my car after dark!"
"Quiet!"
A sharp gasp tore from your throat as you felt his open palm crack against your ass. The sudden sting made your cheeks flush instantly.
"You have the right to remain silent," Dick recited smoothly, his voice dropping into a dark, commanding cadence as he leaned his weight heavily into your back. "You have the right to an attorney. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
"This is becoming ridiculous," you breathed, a mix of adrenaline and genuine worry fluttering in your chest as you looked around the dark road, slightly panicked that someone might drive by and assume you were actually being arrested.
He didn't answer. Instead, he led you toward the hood of his cruiser, his grip firm on your arm. He spun you around slowly, keeping one large hand flat against your waist to steady you. With your hands bound behind your back, you were forced to lean slightly into his chest, looking up at him through your eyelashes. The flashing red and blue lights of his cruiser danced across his face, highlighting the wicked, playful grin that had finally broken through his professional mask.
You let out a soft sigh. "Are you done having your fun yet?"
"What? I thought you had a thing for a man in a uniform," he teased, leaning down slightly so his chest brushed against yours. "I’m just giving you the full experience."
You raised a brow, refusing to make this easy for him. "And what exactly does this full experience entail, Officer? Am I going to the station?"
"Normally, yes," Dick murmured. "But considering the local jail is a little crowded tonight, I’m thinking we can come to some sort of agreement."
Your eyes narrowed playfully. "What kind of arrangement?"
His grin widened as he stepped even closer, crowding you against the metal of the hood. His hands fell to your waist, the heat of his palms soaking right through your clothes as he leaned down, his voice dropping into a velvety whisper that vibrated right against your ear.
"Well, you see, the paperwork for a reckless driving charge and weapon possession is exhaustive," he drawled, his lips brushing along your jawline. "It’s a beautiful night, and I really don’t want to spend the rest of my shift stuck behind a desk at the precinct. So, I’m willing to exercise some officer discretion and offer you a plea bargain.”
You let out a soft huff, though the feeling of his solid chest pressed against yours was making it increasingly difficult to stay annoyed. “I’m listening,” you managed to say, tilting your head back just an inch to keep his gaze.
"You plead guilty to being completely irresistible, and in exchange, I commute your sentence," Dick murmured, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. The playful, devastatingly charming glint in his gaze was on full display now.
You knew exactly what that meant, and your eyes narrowed further. "And if I reject the plea deal?" you challenged, tilting your chin up defiantly, a small smirk playing on your lips. “What if I want my day in court, Officer?”
Dick’s grin widened, a wicked little spark flaring in his eyes. Before the sarcasm could fully leave your mouth, his hands shifted. In one fluid, shockingly fast motion, he grabbed your waist, spun you around, and bent you clean over the hood of his cruiser.
The sudden change in perspective made the world spin for a split second. ”If you reject it,” he growled, his voice dropping an octave as his heavy weight came down directly over your back, pinning you flush against the car, “I’m forced to exercise my authority and punish you.”
“You are incredibly corrupt, Officer Grayson,” you breathed, your face pressed sideways against the hood, your heart hammering like a trapped bird against your ribs. The metal of the car was cool against your skin where your clothes shifted, a stark and thrilling contrast to the absolute furnace of his body trapping you from behind.
"I’m not corrupt, sweetheart. I’m just highly dedicated to community service," Dick whispered, his voice dropping into a dark, gravelly register that sent an electric jolt straight down your spine.
He leaned even lower, his solid chest flattening your shoulder blades as his mouth found the sensitive juncture where your neck met your shoulder. He nipped lightly at the skin, his teeth grazing just hard enough to make you gasp and arch into the bite, before he immediately soothed the sting with the slow deliberate drag of his tongue.
“Besides,” he murmured against your wet skin, his breath burning hot in the cool night air as his hands left your waist, sliding down the backs of your thighs to anchor you exactly where he wanted you, “you’re the one who chose to break the law in my jurisdiction. And you know what they say about Blüdhaven cops... we're notoriously tough on repeat offenders.”
His large, warm hands traced a slow, steady path down the backs of your thighs before smoothing their way back up to cup the undersides of your cheeks. He gave a firm, possessive squeeze that made a soft, breathless whimper escape your lips. He chuckled, the vibration of it rumbling directly against your spine, thoroughly enjoying the complete control he had over you.
Slowly, his fingers hooked under the waistband of your pants.
The fabric yielded easily under his practiced touch, and you shivered violently as the crisp midnight breeze hit your freshly exposed skin. Dick didn't rush. He took his time, savouring every second of your vulnerability, his thumbs brushing light circles against your hip bones. The rhythmic friction was torturous as he began to slide the fabric down over your hips, exposing you inch by inch to the biting chill of the night air and the blistering heat of his hungry gaze.
“Dick…” you breathed, a volatile mix of adrenaline and desire hitching in your throat as your lower half was stripped bare on the side of the road. “Someone... someone could drive by.”
“Let them look,” he whispered wickedly, though he knew as well as you did that this stretch of backroad was completely abandoned at this hour.
His lips ghosted a path from your shoulder up the column of your neck, hunting for the ultra-sensitive spot beneath your ear. His teeth grazed the tender skin, nipping just hard enough to make you whimper and arch your back, while his knuckles brushed in a feather-light, tormenting stroke against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The sheer sensory overload made your knees go dangerously weak, your thighs trembling beneath his hands.
“But if you’re worried about the public indecency charge, you better cooperate fully with the arresting officer,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, thick with intent. “Understand?”
He shifted his weight, his muscular thigh sliding between yours from behind. With an unyielding nudge, he forced your legs a little wider apart, bracing your shins against the lower frame and tire of the police car. Your fingers curled tightly behind your back, the links of the handcuffs rattling sharply against one another as your nails dug into your palms, trying to find any semblance of leverage or stability. But with your wrists securely bound, you were completely at his mercy.
“I need an audible answer, civilian,” Dick growled softly. The playful charm was entirely gone now, completely replaced by a raw, primal look that made your blood run hot. He nudged his thigh higher between yours, a deliberate tilt of his pelvis that forced you to feel the rigid, heavy length of his desire straining against his trousers. “Do you understand the terms of your custody?”
“Yes,” you choked out, your voice trembling as his thigh nudged you even further apart, stretching you out and leaving you completely, hopelessly vulnerable to his touch. “Yes, Officer. I understand.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise thick, and laced with a deep satisfaction that settled deep against your skin.
He didn't make you wait. His hand incredibly hot as it cupped you from behind. When his long, calloused fingers slipped between your thighs, finding you already slick and aching for him, a low, ragged sigh escaped his lips. He began to stroke you with maddeningly slow, teasing pressure, his thumb finding your clit and working it in deliberate, steady circles until your breath came in shallow, desperate stutters.
You threw your head back, your hips instinctively bucking against his hand as you sought more of that agonizingly perfect pressure. Above you, the flashing emergency lights of the cruiser danced in dizzying patterns of crimson and sapphire across the windshield, fracturing the night into a blurred, hypnotic trance. Every touch of his fingers felt magnified a thousand times over by the illicit thrill of the open air, the vulnerability of your wrists bound behind you, and the sheer, unyielding dominance of his body pinning you down.
"Ah-ah," Dick chided softly, his grip on your hip tightening just enough to pin you still against the framework of the cruiser. "I didn't give you permission to move."
“Dick, please,” you whimpered, your hips unconsciously bucking back against his hand, begging for a deeper satisfaction.
“Shh, stay still,” he commanded, his teeth catching the lobe of your ear in a sharp, grounding nip that made you gasp. With his free hand, he reached down to unbutton and lower his own trousers, the sound of the zipper cutting through the quiet rustle of the surrounding woods. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”
You shivered violently, your forehead resting against the cool hood of the car as you tried to catch your breath. "I want you. Please, Dick... Officer Grayson... please."
A low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest at the title. "Spoken like a true cooperative citizen."
He reached around to his utility belt with one hand, the distinct, sharp sound of tearing foil slicing through the quiet night air. He repositioned himself, the broad, blunt head of his length pressing directly against your aching core. He paused there for one maddening second, letting you feel the sheer size and heat of him, waiting until you let out a needy, fractured cry.
“Look at me,” he whispered, his grip tightening on your hip, anchoring you firmly.
You strained to look over your shoulder, your vision swimming as you caught his gaze. His eyes were completely blown out, his pupils dilated so wide that the vibrant blue of his irises was reduced to a thin ring. There was a hungry possessiveness burning in his stare that made your chest ache with a volatile mixture of deep affection and untamed desire.
With a slow, smooth thrust, Dick drove himself fully inside you.
The sudden, thick fullness tore a loud, uninhibited sob from your throat, the sound immediately swallowed by the vast, empty backroad. The sheer intensity of the entry made your mind go entirely blank. He didn't let you adjust to the stretching heat; he pulled back almost entirely, teasing the edge of your core before burying himself inside you again, deeper this time, his hips crashing against yours with a bruising, relentless force. The car creaked beneath your combined weight, the shocks absorbing the rhythmic, violent momentum of his strokes as he pinned you to the polished surface.
The pace was unbearably slow and punishingly deep. His hips slammed rhythmically against yours, the solid, unyielding weight of his chest pressing you down into the hood of the cruiser with every single thrust. You could feel the metal buttons of his uniform shirt scraping against your bare spine, a harsh friction that contrasted sharply with the blistering heat of his skin.
"God, you feel so good," he groaned, his professional facade completely shattering into a million pieces as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. "So tight. Every single time."
“Fuck, Dick,” you sobbed, your hands twitching uselessly within the metal restraints, your knuckles scraping against his kevlar vest as you tried to find a purchase that didn't exist.
Suddenly, he straightened up. His free hand reached down, his fingers wrapping firmly around the center chain of your handcuffs, and he yanked it back toward his chest. The sudden, sharp tug on the metal sent an electric shock of pure sensation straight through your nervous system. Your back arched violently, your chest lifting completely off the hood of the cruiser as your spine curved into a tight, desperate crescent. The forced position tilted your pelvis upward and drove your hips back even further against him, burying him inside you to the absolute hilt, the bruising depth made you cry out in a breathless mix of shock and pleasure.
"Dick—!"
“Last warning, that’s Officer Grayson to you,” he growled against your ear, his voice dropping into a dark, gravelly register that made your blood run hot.
With his hand firmly gripping the center chain of the cuffs, he held you aloft, completely controlling your posture and rendering you utterly defenceless. You were entirely suspended between the cold metal of the car biting into your thighs and his solid body locking you in from behind. He began to move again, but the rhythm transitioned instantly from slow and deep to fast, punishingly hard thrusts that rocked the entire frame of the police cruiser. The cruiser groaned in protest beneath the force of his thrusts, as it joined the wet, slapping sounds of his skin crashing against yours.
Your breath hitched, the sheer force of his increased tempo rattling your lungs as every hard, frantic plunge sent brilliant sparks behind your closed eyelids. The flashing red and blue strobes overhead sliced through the heavy darkness, illuminating the ragged mist of your breath in the cool midnight air and casting your silhouetted shadows across the deserted tree-line. You couldn't run, you couldn't pull away; you were entirely chained to his dominance, balanced on the edge of his control.
"Dick—please, Officer—" you sobbed, the official title tearing from your throat as your head rolled back helplessly against his shoulder, your strength entirely spent.
He leaned into your arched back, his chest flattening against your shoulder blades as his pace became completely unhinged. The sensation of the restrictive metal biting into your wrists and the unmerciful feeling of him filling you over and over drove you closer to the brink. Dick’s breath came in ragged, burning gasps against your ear, his grip on the handcuffs never wavering as he held you perfectly in place to take every unrelenting inch of him.
"Keep talking like that," he panted, his breath a scorching brand against your neck. He pulled back on the cuffs just a fraction harder, forcing you to take him even deeper as his hips slammed home. "Let me hear how cooperative you are after being such a bad girl and breaking the law.”
"I'm sorry—I'm sorry," you whimpered, though your hips were unconsciously bucking back against him now, completely addicted to the punishingly perfect friction, begging for the release that was clawing at the base of your spine.
"God, you're so responsive," Dick groaned, a fierce, ragged sound catching in his throat as your inner muscles convulsed around him in a series of tight, involuntary tremors. "Look at what you do to me.”
You strained your eyes open, your vision swimming with tears and adrenaline. In the reflection of the glass, illuminated by the rhythmic flashing of the cruiser's lightbar, you could see the silhouette of your own body arched like a bow beneath him, completely undone as his emergency lights painting your skin in flashes of crimson and violet. His uniform shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his tie askew, the pristine authority of the Blüdhaven Police Department thoroughly corrupted by the sheer, unhinged desperation of his hunger for you. It was an illicit, intoxicating sight that sent a fresh wave of heat and wetness to your core.
He shifted his grip, letting go of the cuffs for a split second only to wrap his massive arm entirely around your waist, pulling you so flush against his chest that there wasn't a single millimetre of space between you. His free hand reached around to the front, his long fingers finding your swollen, slick clit and drawing tight, quick circles that perfectly matched the brutal pace of his hips.
The dual stimulation nearly shattered you. Your vision blurred into a kaleidoscope of red and blue. Your inner walls clamped down around him in tight, frantic spasms, desperately trying to lock him inside you as the pressure in your lower stomach built to a breaking point.
“Please—I’m gonna—I’m close,” you whimpered, your head thrashing against his shoulder.
“Let go,” he commanded against your skin, his thrusts becoming sloppier, more desperate as he neared his own peak. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel it.”
With a final, shattering plunge, you broke. A loud, uninhibited cry tore from your throat as your orgasm hit you in violent, crashing waves, paralyzing your muscles and causing your body to tremble helplessly against him. The tight, rhythmic squeezing of your internal walls tore away the last shred of Dick’s control. He let out a low, guttural roar, his hips driving into you to the absolute hilt one last time as his entire body went rigid. He buried his face in your damp hair, holding you tightly against the hood of the car as his own release tore through him in thick, ropey pulses as he emptied himself inside the condom.
You remained collapsed against the hood, the cool metal a blissful relief against your overheated skin, while Dick held you tightly from behind. His heartbeat was a frantic, comforting thud against your back. For several long, breathless minutes, neither of you moved. The only sounds on the empty backroad were the ragged sound of your chests heaving in unison.
Slowly, carefully, Dick pulled out of you, a soft groan escaping his lips as he stepped back to fix his uniform. The sudden absence of his heat made you shiver against the cool midnight air. You felt the satisfying click of the handcuffs unlocking, and your arms weakly fell forward onto the hood of the car as the metal restraints were slid free.
Before you could even move to pull your clothes up, you felt Dick’s arms wrap tenderly around your waist from behind. He lifted you up effortlessly, turning you around to face him and sitting you on the hood of the cruiser. He carefully helped you pull your pants back up, his large hands surprisingly gentle now, completely devoid of the dominant edge from moments before.
He looked up at you, his blue eyes soft and shining with an undeniable warmth, a crooked, boyish grin finally spreading across his face. His hair was completely messy, and his uniform shirt was wrinkled and slightly unbuttoned, making him look devastatingly handsome in the pulsing red and blue lights.
"So," he murmured, his thumb gently wiping a stray tear of pleasure from your cheek. "Are you going to keep speeding on my watch, or do we need to schedule regular... rehabilitation sessions?"
You let out a weak, breathless laugh, winding your arms weakly around his neck and pulling him close. "I think I might just continue to be a repeat offender, Officer Grayson."
whenever i see those leon dead dove fics with incest, rape or anything related, im just gonna block the user. it makes me sick to the stomach seeing this type of content about a character who wouldn't do that.
Pairing: Death Island Leon x gf!reader
Word count: 5226 words
Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of being shot, major character’s death (reader), pure heart-breaking angst
Plot: A routine mission with Leon ended in irreversible loss when you were shot in the field and later died in his arms despite every attempt to save you. In the aftermath, Leon is left to survive through grief, guilt, and the things he never got to say. What follows is not healing, but routine: hospital silence, a funeral with few attendees, and weekly visits to your grave with coffee and flowers, clinging to habits that no longer have an answer on the other side. He still carries the engagement ring he planned to give you after the mission. A reminder that the cruelest part of losing you wasn’t your death, it was losing the future that should have followed.
A/N: I don’t even know why I felt like writing this, but welp 😭 I genuinely cried while writing it, I hope you guys enjoy it even if you hate me 😭❤
Taglist: let me know if you want to be added!
Resident evil’s masterlist
The briefing room had already gone quiet when you arrived, the kind of silence that always followed bad news disguised as routine. Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above you, reflecting off the polished table where maps and half-digested intel were scattered like something already gone wrong. Leon stood near the far end, one hand resting on the back of a chair, the other holding a folder he wasn't really reading anymore. His posture was controlled, too controlled. The kind of stillness that meant he had already run through every possible outcome and didn't like a single one of them. When you entered, his eyes shifted to you immediately. Not surprised, just… softer for half a second. “You're late,” Chris muttered from the side of the room. Leon didn't react to him. He only looked at you. “You weren't.“ He said quietly, like it was both a statement and a relief he didn't want to admit. You moved to stand beside him, brushing past the edge of the table. Your shoulder almost touched his.
The briefing resumed, but it blurred into background noise. Coordinates, hostile presence, extraction point. Words that meant danger but never fully captured what that actually looked like when it happened. Leon listened like he always did. Focused, unreadable. But you knew him well enough to catch the smallest tells. The slight tension in his jaw, the way his thumb tapped once against the folder and then stopped, like he'd caught himself doing it. And something strange you've never seen before underneath all of it. When the mission parameters were finalized, the room began to be cleaned in pieces. Chairs scraped, papers were gathered, people left in pairs, in clusters, in silence. You stayed, so did he. For a moment, it was just the two of you and the echo of everyone else leaving. “You sticking close this time.“ Leon said, finally. It wasn't a question. “I always do.“ You tilted your head slightly. “That's not what I mean.“ You met his gaze. He looked tired in a way sleep never fixed. Not exhaustion from the mission ahead, but from everything before it, everything that had trained him to expect loss before arrival.
“I can handle myself.“ You said. “I know,” he replied immediately. No hesitation. That wasn't the issue. A pause stretched between you, thick and unspoken. Then he stepped closer, just enough that his voice dropped, meant only for you. “I don't like the feeling I get when I can't see you.“ He admitted. It was quiet, almost irritated with himself for saying it. You almost smiled, but it didn't fully land. “You're not going to lose me in there.“ He held your gaze for a second longer than necessary, like he was trying to memorize something he already hated imagining forgetting. “Yeah,” he said finally, lower this time. “That's what I keep telling myself.“ A radio crackled somewhere down the hall. Footsteps approached, signaling it was time. Leon reached out, not fully nor dramatically, just enough to catch your hand for a brief second. A touch that no one else would have noticed unless they were looking for it. His grip was steady, controlled, but not completely. “Stay close,” he said again. And then, after a pause that felt heavier than the entire briefing combined: “Please.“ You squeezed his hand once before letting go and nodded with the faintest smile. Outside, the world was already waiting to fall apart.
The air outside the facility felt wrong the moment you stepped into it, too still, too clean for something already infected with tension. The sky had that washed-out grey-blue that made everything look temporary, like the world itself was waiting for something to go wrong before committing to the day. Leon moved ahead of you by half a step, like he always did when he wasn't trying to show it. His hand stayed near his weapon, but his attention kept flicking back, subtle, automatic, like he was checking you were still there without making it obvious. The rest of the team spread out around you. Chris was already scanning the perimeter, all sharp angles and discipline, the kind of focus that made it look like he trusted the world only when he had it in his sights. Jill walked slightly to his side, quieter but not less alert, her eyes moving like she was reading a language everyone else had forgotten how to speak. And Claire stayed a little further back than the rest, not because she was weaker, but because she was watching people as much as she was watching the environment.
It should've felt controlled, professional, balanced. It didn't. Leon slowed just enough for you to fall into step beside him. Not behind, not ahead. Beside. “You're quiet.“ He said under his breath. “You're one to talk.“ You replied. A faint exhale, almost a laugh, but it never fully formed. Ahead of you, the entrance to the site loomed. Broken fencing, emergency lights still blinking like they hadn't been told the situation was already over. Somewhere inside, something moved that didn't belong there. Chris raised a hand slightly. The signal for stop. Everyone froze. Leon's body shifted instantly, subtle but immediate. The change from 'walking' to 'ready' was so practiced that it looked more like instinct than thought. His gaze locked forward. “Movement inside.“ Chris said, voice low. Jill adjusted her stance without a sound, weapon angled but not raised fully yet. Claire's hand tightened on her gear strap. Leon leaned just slightly towards you again, voice barely audible. “Stay with me.“ You didn't answer, you didn't need to.
The moment Chris gave the signal to proceed, everything tightened. Footsteps entered the structure. The first sound inside wasn't a scream. It was something worse, wet, uneven breathing that didn't match anything human should sound like anymore. Leon moved first when the door gave way. Of course he did. Inside, the world changed. Light broke into harsh strips through cracked windows, cutting the room into pieces. Shadows didn't sit still, they shifted, wrong and twitching. The smell hit before the danger became visible, something humid and sticky. Chris took point left, Jill, right, and Claire covered the rear angles. And you stayed with Leon, exactly where he had asked you to be.
For the first few minutes, it was almost manageable. Controlled bursts of movement, clean shots, communication in fragments. “Left corridor clear.“ “Two contacts down.“ “Moving up.“ Leon stayed close enough that you could feel him adjusting his position to keep you within reach without ever slowing the team. It was subtle, strategic, hidden in plain sight. Then the structure changed. Something deeper inside reacted. A sound echoed through the hallway ahead. Not footsteps, not human. Jill turned her head slightly. “That's not infected movement.“ Chris didn't answer, but his grip tightened. Leon's voice dropped lower, sharper now. “Whatever's in there… It's organized.“ That was the first real shift. Not panic but recognition. The realization that this wasn't just another containment failure, it was something that had already adapted. And as you moved deeper, the spacing between you and Leon began to tighten without either of you agreeing to it. Like gravity was doing it for you. He didn't say it again, but you could feel it in the way his shoulder kept angling towards you. Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me. And the deeper you went, the more it stopped sounding like a request.
The hallway had felt too narrow before it happened, like the building itself was slowly closing its fist around all of you. Light flickered overhead in uneven pulses, turning every movement into something fractured, too fast, too sharp, too easy to misread. Leon was just ahead of you, angled slightly left as he cleared the next corner. His voice had started to form your name, half warning, half instinct. But he never finished it. The shot came clean. No warning crack that your brain registered in time, no dramatic build-up. Just impact. A single precise force hitting your chest and stealing the air out of your body before you even understood you had been hit.
For a fraction of a second, you didn't feel pain. Just disbelief. Then your knees started to fail you. “-No.“ Leon's voice broke instantly, like something inside him had snapped clean in half. You stumbled back into the wall, your hand moving instinctively to your chest. Warmth spread fast, too fast. It wasn't gradual, it was immediate, soaking through fabric, slipping between your fingers when you tried to press down. Somewhere to your left, you heard movement. Chris shouting an order, Jill firing back into the darkness, Claire calling your name. But it all sounded far away, underwater. The world narrowed to one thing: Leon reaching you. He was there so fast it didn't even feel real. One moment, he was clearing angles, the next one, he was in front of you, catching you before you hit the ground completely.
His hands came to you immediately, one behind your back, one pressing where your own hand was already shaking. “No, no, no… Stay with me.“ He said, voice rising in a way you had never heard from him. Not command, not control. Just panic, raw and unfiltered. You tried to speak, but it came out broken. Air, blood, and something you couldn't organize into words. Leon looked down at his hand for half a second, then froze when he saw how quickly it was getting worse. That was the moment his control finally cracked. “Chris!“ he shouted, and it wasn't just a call for help. It was a demand. “We need extraction NOW!“ Chris' voice answered somewhere in the chaos, but Leon wasn't really listening anymore. His focus has collapsed entirely onto you. “Look at me,” he said, forcing your face towards him with shaking hands. “Hey… Hey, stay with me, okay? You're not… You're not allowed to-.“ His sentence broke. Because there was nothing tactical left in him now. Only fear.
Your vision blurred at the edges. The corridor behind him flickered in and out of focus, the sounds of gunfire, movement, orders. It all faded under something heavier. Leon pressed harder on your chest, like he could physically hold you together if he tried enough. “You're okay,“ he said, but it didn't sound like he believed it. “You're okay, you're okay, you're okay… Just breathe, just-.“ His voice lowered suddenly, breaking into something quieter. Almost desperate. “I've got you.“ But his hands were shaking too much to make it true.
The corridor had turned into controlled chaos. Gunfire still echoed somewhere deeper in the structure, but for you, everything had narrowed to breath, pressure, and the feeling of Leon refusing to let go of you. His arms were locked around you, one hand still pressing hard against your chest as if sheer force of will could stop what was already slipping away. “Extraction route is compromised,” Chris said sharply through the comms, voice tight but controlled. “We move on foot to the secondary exit. Now.“ That word 'now' hit differently for Leon. Because he didn't move. He didn't even look away from you when Chris spoke. “Negative.“ Leon said immediately. It wasn't hesitation, it wasn't discussion. It was a refusal. A pause stretched between you. Chris' voice came again, lower this time. “Leon, we don't have time for this. She's injured, but if we don't move the team-.“ “She's not injured.“ Leon cut in, sharper than before. His grip tightened slightly around you, like the word itself had insulted him. “She's bleeding out. Choking on her own blood.“ Silence crackled through the channel. Even in the distance, you could hear the shift. Jill stopping fire for half a second, Claire's voice cutting off mid-callout. The entire team feeling the fracture in command.
Chris stepped into view at the end of the corridor, weapon still raised, posture still perfect. Professional, controlled. Everything Leon wasn't being anymore. His eyes dropped to you once, then back to Leon. “Leon,” Chris said, slower now. “I understand. But if we stay, we lose everyone.“ That word again. Everyone. Like it included you in a category instead of a person. Leon laughed once, short, broken, almost disbelieving. “You're talking like she's already gone.“ He huffed. “Don't do that,” Chris warned. He didn't sound angry or cold, just tired of losing people in different ways. Leon finally looked up at him. And the expression on his face was nothing like the man who had walked into the mission. “This isn't a negotiation. I'm not leaving her behind.“ Leon said quietly. Chris didn't move. “It is when I'm in command of extraction.“ That was the moment everything stopped being tactical. Leon shifted his weight slightly, still holding you against him, and the change in his tone was immediate, lower, heavier, dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with enemies in the building. “Then take me off your command structure,” he said. Chris blinked once. “Leon-.“ “I'm getting her out,” Leon continued, voice breaking at the edges but steady in intent. “Alive. Or I'm not leaving.“ A beat of silence. Jill's voice came through the comms softly, almost carefully. “Chris…” Claire didn't speak at all. She didn't need to.
Chris looked at Leon for a moment. Not as a soldier, not as an agent. Just as someone who understood exactly what it meant to lose someone and still keep walking afterwards. “Leon,” Chris said finally, quieter. “You can't save her if you die here.“ Leon didn't respond immediately. He looked down at you instead. His hand trembled slightly where it pressed against you, as if he was fighting his own body to stay steady. When he spoke again, it wasn't to Chris. It was to you. “Hey,” he said softly, like the world outside the two of you had stopped existing. “You hear me? I'm getting you out. You're not allowed to leave just yet, okay?“ A pause. His forehead almost touched yours. “I need you to stay with me.“ Behind him, Chris exhaled slowly. The kind of breath that meant a decision was being made that no one would like later. “Fine,” Chris said at last. “We move. But we move now. And Leon-.“ Leon didn't look up. “I know,” he said. But he didn't sound like he agreed. He sounded like someone who had already decided what price he was willing to pay.
The extraction didn't feel like a victory. It felt like losing in a different location. By the time they got you out, everything outside the facility was too bright, too open, and normal for what was happening in the middle of it. The kind of daylight that didn't respect grief. A field medical tent had been set up fast, fabric snapping in the wind, equipment already inside waiting for outcomes it probably wouldn't like. Leon barely let go of you when they took you from his arms. It only happened because someone physically separated him. “Mr. Kennedy, we need space-.“ He didn't hear the rest. Or didn't process it. His hands hovered in the air for a second after you were gone, like his body hadn't been told the truth yet. Inside the tent, the world disappeared behind canvas walls and sharp medical commands. “Blood pressure dropping.“ “Airway compromised.“ “Get me adrenaline, now!“ And then another familiar voice broke into the chaos. “Move her here—no, here. I need suction. Keep pressure on the wound.“ Rebecca said. She didn't look up much, she couldn't afford to. But she was already fighting something that didn't want to be fought anymore.
Outside, Leon stood frozen just beyond the entrance flap. He could hear everything. His hands were still stained in your blood, still shaking, still useless. Behind him, footsteps approached. Chris stopped a few meters away. Neither of them spoke for a moment. It was Chris who broke it first. “She's in good hands.“ He said quietly. It didn't really sound like a promise, just reality as he could frame it. Leon didn't look at him. “I had her in my hands.“ He mumbled. Chris didn't respond immediately. There wasn't a good answer to that. Silence stretched again, heavy with everything neither of them wanted to name. Then Chris spoke again. “You did everything you could.“ That sentence landed wrong. Leon finally turned his head slightly, just enough for Chris to see his face. “That's the problem,” Leon said. “It wasn't enough.“ Before Chris could answer, the tent flap moved sharply. Rebecca stepped out. Her gloves were still stained, her expression wasn't dramatic, but it was controlled in the way only doctors get when they've already crossed past optimism. She looked at Chris first, then at Leon. “It's not looking good…” She quietly said. No euphemism, no cushioning. Just truth.
Leon moved before he even realized he had. Inside the tent, the air felt smaller. Everything sounded further away except the machines. You were there, barely. Too still, too pale, too far gone in a way that didn't match how recently you had been talking, breathing, fighting. Rebecca didn't stop him when he approached. She just stepped slightly aside, still watching the monitors like they might change their minds the moment you saw Leon. He sat beside you. Careful, like touching you wrong might make it worse. Or like it mattered anymore. His hand found yours. And for a second, he just held on. “Hey…” he said softly. His voice broke on the first syllable, so he stopped before trying again. “I'm here.“ Your eyes flickered barely. But enough that something inside him snapped between relief and terror. “Dont-.“ He started, then swallowed. “Don't leave me like this.“ His thumb brushed your knuckles, slow, trembling. “I was going to tell you…” He whispered. A pause too long invaded the atmosphere. His breath hitched. “I love you.“ It came out like it had been trapped behind everything he'd ever survived. Your fingers twitched slightly in his. And Leon leaned closer, forehead almost touching yours, like he could anchor you there just by refusing to move. “I love you.“ He repeated, quieter this time. “I love you. Please just… just stay a little longer.“
The tent had gone quiet in the way nothing living ever would. Even the machines seemed unsure of themselves now, less sharp, less certain, like they were trying to soften the truth before anyone had to say it out loud. Leon didn't notice the silence at first. He was still holding your hand, still counting your hitched breath without meaning to, still leaning in like proximity alone could keep you here. “Hey…” He whispered again, because repetition had become the only thing keeping him upright. “You're still with me, right?“ His thumb brushed your knuckles. “Just… stay with me. Please.“ Behind him, Rebecca moved quietly between monitors. Not rushed anymore, not fighting in the same way she was minutes before. Just adjusting, confirming, watching. She didn't interrupt. That was what scared him most. Leon leaned closer, forehead finally resting on yours. “I didn't get to say everything,” he said, voice breaking under the weight of it. “I was going to… I was going to take you home. I was going to-.“ He stopped because your fingers had stopped responding properly. Not fully gone but fading out of rhythm. “Hey,” he said again, sharper. “Hey, look at me.“ Your eyes were barely open. But they were on him. That was worse because you were still trying. Still here in the only way you could manage. Leon exhaled shakily, a sound that didn't belong to a trained soldier anymore, tears finally falling as he allowed himself to feel. “I love you…” He said again, like he could force the world to remember it. “I've always had… Please don't leave me…”
After a small pause, your lips moved slightly. Nothing came out. He leaned in immediately, desperate, like the distance of a breath was too much to risk. “What? What is it? Talk to me, please.“ Your fingers tightened once, like all the energy left in your body was used to make that tiny movement possible. Like you were trying to hold on to the sound of him. And then he saw it. A tear. Slow, unsteady. Not from pain nor fear, something deeper. Something human that was trying to surface at the very end when there wasn't enough time left to say it properly. It slid down the corner of your eye before their light faded into something darker, emptier. And that was when Leon broke. “No…” he whispered, like denying it could still change physics. “No, no, no… don't—don't do this.“ He pressed your hand harder against his chest, like he could physically stop the moment from happening if he held on tight enough. “I didn't get to hear it,” he choked out on his own cry. “I didn't get to hear you say it.“
The monitor shifted tone behind him, flatlining into something that no longer cared about hope. Rebecca's voice was soft when it came, slightly unsteady. “Time of death…” But Leon didn't hear the numbers. He only felt your hand go still in his. Like the world had decided, without asking him, that this was the moment you stopped being someone who could answer back. He stared at your face, waiting. Like if he waited long enough, you'd finish the sentence you never got to say. His voice dropped to something almost inaudible. “…I love you.“ He said one more time, but it wasn't a confession anymore. It was a promise he couldn't return to you. And the tear on your cheek was still there when he finally realized you weren't coming back to finish it.
The sky over the cemetery was dull in a way that felt almost intentional, like even the weather didn't want to draw attention to what was happening below it. Everything was too quiet. Not peaceful, just emptied out. A small group stood gathered near the fresh earth, close enough to show respect, far enough not to intrude on something none of them could fix. Leon stood slightly apart from them. Not because anyone had told him to. Because he couldn't stand being closer. The coffin was already lowered. That part had happened while he wasn't fully present. Time had blurred, fractured into fragments of conversations he hadn't answered and movements he hadn't controlled. Someone spoke nearby, words about service, sacrifice, loss, but they didn't land. They passed through him like wind through something hollow. He wasn't looking at anything except the ground. At the place where you were further away than distance could ever explain. Behind him, he could sense the others. Chris stood with his arms crossed, not out of indifference, but because stillness was the only way he knew how to contain grief without letting it spill. Jill stood quietly beside him, head slightly bowed, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. The kind of silence she wore was familiar, too many names, too many endings. Claire was further back, hands clasped tightly in front of her, jaw set in a way that suggested she was holding something together by force. None of them approached Leon. They didn't know how. Or maybe they knew better than to try.
A final bit of soil was placed over the grave. The sound was soft, too soft for something permanent. Leon finally moved. Slowly, like his body was remembering how gravity worked. He stepped forward until he was standing right at the edge of the grave. No speech, no ceremony, no performance of strength left to give. Just him. He crouched slightly, fingers brushing the edge of the earth as if checking whether it was real. It was. Of course it was. His hand stayed there longer than it should have. “I keep thinking…” he started, voice rough, barely holding shape, “that you're going to call my name.“ Silence answered him. Not even the wind contradicted him. He swallowed hard. “I keep waiting for it,” he admitted, almost like he was ashamed of it. “Like I just… missed you walking away somewhere.“ His fingers tightened slightly against the dirt. “But you don't walk away,” he said quietly. “That's the part I can't-.“ He stopped. Because there wasn't a version of that sentence that ended without breaking him further. Behind him, someone shifted, but no one interrupted. Leon exhaled shakily. “I was supposed to tell you everything,” he said. “I did tell you, but I… I didn't get to hear you say it back.“ A pause. Long enough that it almost became unbearable. Then, softer, almost disappearing into itself: “You left me mid-sentence.“ His shoulders tightened, but he didn't cry loudly. It wasn't that kind of grief anymore. It was quieter.
Leon remained at the edge of the grave long after, the fresh earth sat untouched beneath him. Permanent, unfair, real. For a moment, he simply stared at it. Then his hand disappeared into the pocket of his jacket. When it emerged again, he was holding a small black box. His grip tightened around it instantly. Like, part of him regretted taking it out. Like part of him couldn't stop. The weight of it had followed him for weeks. Through briefings, through flights, through quiet mornings beside you. Through every moment he'd spent trying to find the right time. He had planned everything. Not perfectly, just enough. A dinner when the two of you finally had time to breathe, a nervous laugh when he inevitably forgot what he'd rehearsed, your smile, the answer he already hoped he knew. His thumb brushed over the edge of the box. Slowly, carefully. Then he opened it. The ring sat exactly where he had left it. Wating. Leon stared at it for so long that the silence around him became unbearable. Behind him, nobody spoke. Not Chris, who helped him choose the ring, not Jill, who convinced your superior to give you a day off the same day as Leon's, not Claire, who agreed on keeping the secret from you, even though she was too excited to not say it. Because suddenly, there was nothing left to say. His jaw tightened. And for the first time that day, his composure broke completely. Not because you were gone, not because he had watched you die, but because you would never know. You would never know that he had cosen you. That he had carried your future around in his pocket. That every plan he had made beyond the next mission had started and ended with you.
A shaky breath escaped him. “You would've said yes,” he whispered. It wasn't arrogance, it wasn't certainty. It was grief. The kind that invented conversations because reality no longer allowed them. His eyes dropped back to the ring. “I would've asked after the mission, in that restaurant you always loved.“ His voice cracked. A small, broken smile appeared for barely a second. “And you would've told me my timing was terrible.“ The smile disappeared just as quickly. Because there would be no laughter, no proposal, no wedding, no future with you. Only a ring that would never leave its box. Leon closed it carefully and held it against his chest for a moment. As if he was mourning something beyond your death. Not just like the life you had shared. The life you never got to have. Then, after a long silence, he slipped the box back into his pocket and walked away carrying both of you for a little longer.
The path to the cemetery had become familiar in a way Leon never admitted out loud. Not because it got easier. Because repetition was the only thing that still kept the days from collapsing into each other. The sky was the same kind of grey it always seemed to be when he came here, soft, indifferent, like the world had long stopped taking notes on his life. Leon walked slowly, hands occupied. Two coffee cups in one hand. Still warm, careful not to spill. A small bouquet on the other. Your favorite flowers. He never forgot, he never allowed himself to. By the time he reached the grave, he didn't hesitate. That was the strangest part now. He just… arrived. Like it was a routine he had learned too well. He set the coffees down first, one slightly closer to where he always sat, the other placed as if you might still reach for it out of habit. Then the flowers, always carefully. “I still don't know if you'd approve of the coffee I bring you,” he said quietly, almost conversational, like you might answer back if he spoke the right way. “You used to say I made it too strong.“ A faint breath left him, something between a laugh and something heavier. He sat down beside the grave, not quite on the ground anymore, but not fully apart from it either. “I keep thinking,” he continued, voice softer now, “that when I go home… you're going to be there.“ He stared forward for a moment, unfocused. “And you'll be mad at me,” he added, a little more honestly. “Because I left the dishes from breakfast again.“ A pause. His fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the coffee cup. “But you're not,” he said. No emotion in the words at first. Just a fact. Then it cracked. “And I still forget that part,” he admitted. “Every time I open the door.“ Silence settled again. Not empty, just full of everything he wasn't saying fast enough. Leon exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly on his hands. “I used to think the worst part would be losing you,” he said. He swallowed before continuing, like the words felt like thorns piercing through his throat as they came out. “It's not.“ His eyes lowered. “It's everything after.“ A long pause followed, the kind that stretched until it felt like it might swallow sound entirely. Then, quieter, almost like he was afraid to give the words too much weight: “I think about what I never said properly,” he continued. “And I keep coming back to the same thing.“ He glanced down at the grave, as if you might still be there listening in the only way that remained possible. “It was always there,” he said softly. “I just never said it enough.“ His voice steadied slightly, like he was holding himself in place with effort. “I love you,” he said again, like he was trying to say it as many times as he could to compensate for all the times he didn't say it. “And I always will.“
The words didn't feel like closure. They felt like something he would keep carrying until it wore him down completely. Leon stayed there for a while longer, coffee cooling beside him, flowers unmoving in the still air. And when he finally stood, it wasn't because anything had ended. It was because nothing ever did. He looked down one last time, not expecting an answer. Just remembering there used to be one. “I'll come back next week,” he said quietly. Then, after a pause that hurt more than the words themselves, “Same time.“ And he left you there again, the only place where he still felt close enough to keep talking.
Jason hated being in an asylum. Well, this wasn't an asylum it was a 'mental hospital for the criminally insane,' it was better than Arkham at least. He was treated like an actual person here and not like cattle. He received three meals a day, good medication, therapy and even outside time every day. It sure beat Arkham's dark and torturous methods. Plus, there was one patient he was glad was here with him. He would never admit that out loud though.
Jason was eating breakfast when he saw Y/N walk in. Your face lit up when you saw Jason. You sat across from him with your food.
'Morning, Jay.'
'Morning, angel. I heard they had to sedate you last night,' he said. Your smile faded a little and you nodded.
'Yeah... I had a nightmare and became a bit uncontrollable,' you muttered.
'It happens to the best of us, angel.'
'Thanks, Jay,' you said with a small smile. 'Is Bruce coming for visiting day tomorrow?'
'Yeah, like usual,' he grumbled.
'I know you don't like him coming to visit, but I think it's sweet that he does.'
'Please, you're just saying that because he likes you and gives you attention,' he said.
'Well, I don't have visitors so it's nice when he comes.'
Jason sighed and rolled his eyes. 'Fine, I guess it's nice he visits.'
'Plus, he always brings me gifts,' you said as Jason rolled his eyes again and chuckled.
'You're very easily bribed, you know that?'
--
You were the first one awake the next morning and you sat down at your usual table with a tray of breakfast. You waited a while before a nurse came out to you. 'Jason has to be in isolation for a few more hours. It's best to you eat without him,' she said. You sighed and nodded a little.
'Is he okay?'
'Yes, he just had a rough night and didn't get any sleep. He'll be okay, Y/N,' she said before walking away.
After breakfast you sat in the corner and did some drawing while everyone else spoke to their visitors. You heard the door open again and looked up to see Bruce entering. You giggled and ran over to him.
'Hi, Bruce!' you said with excitement. Bruce smiled and felt his heart warm at your excitement.
'Hey, sweetheart. They told me Jason needs a bit more time. Why don't you and I go out in the gardens for a bit?' he asked. Bruce knew you didn't have anyone and he knew how hard visiting day was for you.
'Yes please! I love the garden, I have to show you some of the new herbs I helped plant,' you said as he smiled and followed you outside.
Bruce enjoyed visiting here, he got to see what an actual mental hospital should be. He had seen the horrors of Arkham and this place helped regain some hope for him. Everyone here wasn't treated like a criminal, they were helped and encouraged to grow. Bruce felt at ease while he listened to you explain all the new plants that had been planted since the last time.
After a few minutes a nurse told Bruce that he could see Jason, but he had to go alone. 'Alright, I'll come back and see you soon. Before that, I brought you a little gift,' he said as he pulled out a small handmade doll that looked like you.
'Woah... It looks like me!' you said in amazement as he chuckled.
'I saw it at a market and thought it was the perfect gift considering it looks exactly like you,' he said with a small laugh. You smiled brightly and hugged him.
'Thank you! She's so beautiful,' you whispered. Bruce smiled and hugged you back tightly before he left to see Jason.
You went back to your room for a little while and rearranged a few of the toys to see where your doll would look best.
'I see he spoiled you again,' a voice said. You turned to see Jason and smiled. He looked exhausted and you knew his sedatives would be wearing off. You shuffled forward cautiously and looked at him.
'You okay?'
'I'm okay, princess... Just a hard night,' he said as he walked in and sat on your bed. You handed the doll to him and he chuckled. 'Looks like a voodoo doll of you,' he said as you laughed softly.
'Did Bruce get you a gift?'
'Yeah, a new pillow. Sounds lame but it's some expensive special one... Don't tell him but it's the best thing I've ever laid on,' he said. You chuckled and sat beside him.
'I'm really glad you have him. I know that sounds cheesy and stuff, but...you deserve a family,' you said. Jason looked at you and handed the doll back to you.
'You deserve one too, Y/N. I know you might not have one right now, but you will one day. For the moment I don't mind you stealing my fucked up family,' he said. You smiled and looked at him.
'So, where should I put this clone doll?'
'Hmm...' Jason stood up and took the doll. 'I think window sill, so it's like she's always watching.'
