#graverise

[brainrotss]

need dale cooper as my sweet loving boyfriend who calls me sweetheart and honey and always makes sures i get at least one bite from his slice of pie, and who also uses me whenever he needs to release tension when hes stuck on a case, need him to get mean and shove my face into a pillow while he pounds into me from behind because he cant have me being loud since it would be a very disrepectful thing to do as a guest of the great northern hotel. :((

[brainrotss]

dating dale cooper moodboard 🍒

[brainrotss]

okay but imagine batdad!bruce who is continuously trying to prove he is not as old as you make him out to be, especially since you’re his younger spouse.

The batkids see you as their second parent and constantly join you when you make fun of his age all the time, calling him old man or grandpa and imitating those old man grunts. Bruce usually ignores it until one night where you call him grandpa and everyone chimes in with their own insults.

“oh yeah? I’ll show you what this grandpa can do” in trying to prove his point he picks you up first before picking up the babies of the family, cassandra and damian. This causes a chain reaction as the rest of the children gather and start piling onto Bruce, who seems to be doing just fine holding all of you. That is until Dick and Jason join in on the fun, climbing on top of Bruce wherever they fit. You can feel the strain on Bruce but as stubborn as ever he denies it, until he sets all of you down before taking a step and grabbing his lower back with a strangled yelp.

The old man had pulled a muscle and had to be carried by you, Dick and Jason to drag him onto the couch. Where you all climbed onto his back, pretending to give him a madsage while telling him that it's for his own benefit as he grumbles an excuse that if he stretched before he would’ve been fine.

His back remained sore until he saw a proper masseuse the following week.

[brainrotss]

NEVER LOVE AN ANCHOR. jason todd.

☆ pairing — ex boyfriend! jason todd x ex vigilante! fem reader | angst

summary ☆ In the smoky haze of a downtown nightclub, you’ve built a new life far from the rooftops and shadows of your vigilante past—a life where the glittering stage offers control, certainty, and the promise of another tomorrow. But when Jason Todd, the ex-lover who begged you to walk away from it all, shows up in the private room Bruce Wayne reserved, the fragile balance of your world begins to crack. Jason isn’t surprised by your new path—it fits your history, your love of the stage—but his frustration and lingering feelings force you both to confront the choices that tore you apart. As old wounds resurface and unspoken truths linger, you’re left questioning whether the freedom you’ve found is enough to keep the ghosts of your past at bay. wc ☆ 3k

The air in the club was thick with smoke and heat, the kind of atmosphere that clung to your skin like a second layer. It was always like this—neon lights splashing over bodies, music that seemed to bypass the ears and hammer straight into the chest. You knew the rhythms of this place as intimately as you’d once known the cold steel of a grappling hook or the weight of Kevlar pressing into your ribs.

Bruce was waiting, as he always was, in the far corner of the room. He didn’t look out of place, not exactly—men like Bruce Wayne never did—but there was a severity to him that the club couldn’t soften. He was all sharp angles and unreadable eyes, his suit too crisp for a place like this, his presence an accusation in itself.

You spotted him before he saw you, and for a moment, you hesitated, letting your gaze flick over him. No doubt he was here for his usual check-in, his thinly veiled attempt at making sure you hadn’t spiraled into something worse than this. But there was nothing worse than this, was there? At least, that’s what they’d all think.

They didn’t understand, and you had no interest in explaining.

You approached him with a slow, deliberate gait, hips swaying to the bassline, a cigarette perched between your fingers. Bruce didn’t react until you slid into his lap, resting a hand on his shoulder as if you belonged there.

“Is it time for our monthly meeting, Bruce?” you asked, voice low, words syrupy-smooth and cutting all at once.

His lips tightened, a flicker of disapproval in his eyes that you found, to your amusement, endlessly satisfying. “Not this time,” he replied.

You leaned in closer, your breath brushing his ear as you whispered, “Hopefully something pleasurable.”

He didn’t answer, just inclined his head slightly toward the back. The room he always reserved. His usual wordless command. You pushed yourself off his lap with a languid grace, flicking the cigarette into a nearby ashtray before walking away.

The private room was quieter than the rest of the club, the music muted to a faint vibration through the walls, but the tension in the air was suffocating. Jason was standing there, leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed in a way that seemed designed to stop him from punching something—or someone.

You let the door click shut behind you and leaned against it, one brow arched in a way that dared him to speak first. When he didn’t, you smirked, tilting your head.

“Funny, I thought Bruce was the one keeping tabs on me. Didn’t realize you’d taken up the hobby.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jason said, his voice low but steady, his eyes narrowing.

“I work here,” you replied flatly. “Or is that not obvious?”

“Don’t,” he snapped, stepping forward. “Don’t act like this is normal.”

“Who said it was normal?” you shot back, lifting an eyebrow. “Look, I’m fine, Jason. Thriving, even. I’ve got a steady job, my own place—” You stopped yourself there. He didn’t need to know about Roy. That wasn’t part of this conversation.

Jason scoffed, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You call this thriving?”

You shrugged, your lips curling into a sharp smile. “I get paid. I know I’ll wake up tomorrow and come back. No masks, no blood, no wondering if tonight’s the night I don’t make it home. So yeah, I call this thriving. It’s not much, but it’s mine.”

“Y/N,” he said, his voice softening just enough to cut deeper, “you’re better than this.”

“Oh, spare me the bullshit, Jason,” you snapped, your voice sharp enough to pierce through his quiet concern. “I gave up the vigilante life, just like you begged me to. I got out. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“This isn’t what I wanted,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes blazing. “I didn’t want you to—” He stopped, dragging a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. “Bruce is using you. You know that, right?”

“Bruce doesn’t use anyone who doesn’t want to be used,” you said coolly, though there was a faint flicker of something in your chest—a memory you didn’t want to revisit.

Jason laughed, short and bitter. “Yeah? And what’s he giving you in return?”

“Peace of mind,” you said simply. “Which is more than I ever had when I was running rooftops and getting shot at with you.”

That hit harder than you expected it to, his jaw tightening as his shoulders sagged slightly. For a moment, he looked almost small, and that scared you more than anything else.

“I just don’t want to see you like this,” he said quietly.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance as you moved past him to the small bar in the corner, pouring yourself a glass of water. “Not my problem if you can’t handle it. You’re the one who showed up here, uninvited, might I add.”

“And you’re living with Roy?” he asked, his voice clipped, bitter.

The glass stopped halfway to your lips. For a moment, you didn’t react, didn’t even blink. Then, slowly, you took a sip and set the glass down, turning to face him with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“What of it?” you said coolly, crossing your arms.

Jason’s expression darkened, his frustration boiling just beneath the surface. “So that’s it? You trade in the mask for… this?” He gestured vaguely as if the room itself were an accusation. “And Roy gets to swoop in and play house?”

You laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. “Oh, is that what this is about? You’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” Jason snapped, his voice rising. “I’m pissed. Roy—he’s a good guy, sure, but he’s not—”

“He’s not you?” you finished, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, thank God for that.”

Jason flinched, just barely, but you saw it, and for a fleeting moment, you almost regretted saying it. Almost.

“What I do and who I live with is none of your business,” you continued, your tone icy now. “You don’t get to waltz back into my life and act like you have a say. Not after—” You stopped yourself, clenching your jaw.

“Not after what?” Jason pressed, his voice softer now, but no less insistent.

You turned away, pretending to adjust the straps of your outfit, anything to avoid meeting his eyes. “Not after you begged me to give it all up,” you said finally, your voice quieter but no less sharp. “You wanted me out of the game, Jason. Out of the danger. You didn’t care what that meant for me, as long as I was safe. Well, congratulations. I’m safe. I’m alive. And if Roy’s couch is where I crash at night, so be it. At least I know I’ll wake up tomorrow and make it to work.”

Jason stared at you, his expression unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line. “And this is what you call living?” he asked, his voice heavy with disbelief.

“It’s better than dying,” you shot back, your eyes blazing as you turned to face him again. “Better than wondering if tonight’s the night I don’t come home. Better than feeling like every step I take is just one more toward the grave. Do you think I like this? That I dreamed of spending my nights dancing for tips and dodging pitying looks from men like you? No. But at least I know I’ll survive it. Can you say the same about your life?”

Jason didn’t respond, his shoulders sagging slightly as he exhaled, his anger deflating into something closer to despair.

“I didn’t want this for you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, tough,” you replied, stepping closer, your voice steady and cold. “Because this is who I am now. And if you can’t handle that, you’re welcome to leave. But don’t you dare stand here and act like you care. Not when you’re the one who pushed me into this life.”

Jason’s gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable, almost broken. But you didn’t soften. You couldn’t. Not now.

“And as for Roy,” you added, your tone cutting, “he’s got nothing to do with you. He’s there when I need him, which is more than I can say for you. So unless you’ve got something useful to say, I suggest you go back to whatever rooftop you crawled down from and leave me the hell alone.”

You didn’t wait for his response. You turned on your heel and walked out, the sound of your heels clicking against the floor echoing behind you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of certainty. This life might not have been what you wanted, but it was yours. And for now, that was enough.

The club was quieter when you stepped back onto the floor, the thrum of the bass no longer rattling through your chest. It wasn’t as late as you thought it was, but the room had already begun to empty, leaving the stragglers and the desperate to haunt the barstools. You spotted Bruce right where you’d left him, still poised like he owned the place, even if he’d never admit to frequenting it.

Jason’s presence lingered behind you like an unwelcome shadow, but you ignored it, pushing forward, your steps purposeful. Whatever that encounter had been—anger, guilt, whatever emotion he thought he could leverage to pull you back into his orbit—you weren’t going to let it shake you.

You approached Bruce with the same swaying grace you’d used earlier, though now it was sharper, more pointed. Sliding into the booth opposite him, you leaned on your elbows, your lips tugging into a dry, knowing smile.

“Was this part of the plan?” you asked, pulling a cigarette from a nearby tray, lighting it and taking a slow drag.

Bruce didn’t look at you at first, his gaze following the faint smoke trail curling above your head. “He was concerned.”

You laughed, a short, sharp bark of amusement. “Concerned? Is that what we’re calling it now? Funny how everyone’s concern only shows up when I finally find a place I fit.”

Bruce finally looked at you, his expression as unreadable as always, though there was the faintest furrow between his brows. “You think you fit here?”

“Better here than there,” you said simply, shrugging as you exhaled a cloud of smoke. “At least here, I know I’ll live to see tomorrow. That’s more than I could ever say when I was running rooftops with either of you.”

Bruce didn’t answer, and you didn’t need him to. His silence was its own kind of acknowledgment, a quiet acquiescence to your stubbornness. You sighed, leaning back and crossing your legs, the picture of defiant ease.

“See you next week, Bruce,” you said, sliding out of the booth before he could respond. “Don’t forget to reserve the room. You know how I hate to be kept waiting.”

You didn’t look back as you walked away, though you felt his eyes on you, heavy with thoughts he’d never say aloud.

The next week came quicker than you expected, the rhythm of your life falling back into its familiar patterns. Work was work, and Bruce’s presence was just another part of it, like the lights or the music. When he arrived, you didn’t hesitate, slipping into his lap as if you’d always been there, whispering teasing remarks into his ear that he didn’t bother to deflect.

What you didn’t see—what you couldn’t have known—was Jason.

He was in the shadows, just as he’d always been, a silent observer watching the two of you from a distance. He hadn’t planned to come back, but something had gnawed at him all week, something he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the way you’d dismissed him so easily, though that stung more than he wanted to admit. It was Bruce.

The way you laughed, low and throaty, as you leaned into Bruce, your hand trailing casually over his shoulder. The way Bruce, ever the stoic, let you. There was something there, something Jason couldn’t ignore.

And when you left the table with Bruce, disappearing into the private room without a backward glance, Jason followed.

He didn’t go in—he wasn’t that bold, not yet—but he hovered just outside, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists.

Inside, your laughter was muffled, but he could still hear it, along with Bruce’s low, measured tones. Whatever you were to each other—friends, allies, something more—it was clear he’d been shut out of a world you’d built without him.

And it hurt.

Jason stormed into the study at Wayne Manor that evening, his boots loud against the wooden floor. Bruce was already there, seated in his armchair, a glass of scotch in hand, his expression unreadable as always. It irritated Jason to no end—the way Bruce could remain so calm, so detached, even when everything felt like it was on fire.

"You knew I was there," Jason said, his voice low but tight, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Bruce didn’t even flinch. He took a slow sip of his scotch, set the glass down on the table beside him, and finally looked up. "Yes."

Jason scoffed, running a hand through his hair as he began to pace. "And you’re just fine with it? Fine with her throwing herself into this… this life?"

Bruce leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in that maddeningly composed way of his. "She’s not throwing herself into anything, Jason. She made a choice."

"A choice?" Jason turned on him, his voice rising. "This isn’t a choice, Bruce. This is—this is her settling. You’ve seen her! She’s better than this. She deserves—"

"She deserves to live her life the way she sees fit," Bruce interrupted, his voice calm but firm, cutting through Jason’s tirade like a blade. "And that’s exactly what she’s doing."

Jason stopped pacing, glaring at him. "And you’re part of that life now? You, of all people? Don’t you think it’s a little—"

"A little what, Jason?" Bruce leaned forward now, his tone sharper, his gaze pinning Jason in place. "A little inappropriate? A little manipulative? Because if that’s what you’re implying, you’re wrong."

Jason shook his head, his hands balling into fists. "You don’t get it, Bruce. She’s not thinking clearly."

"she’s thinking just fine," Bruce said evenly. "Better than fine, actually. She’s found a way to live without looking over her shoulder every night, without worrying whether she’ll wake up the next day. We can’t say the same."

Jason flinched at that, his jaw tightening. "She’s not supposed to be like this," he muttered, more to himself than to Bruce.

Bruce sighed, standing and walking over to Jason. He placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm but not unkind. "Jason, you left her. Whatever guilt you’re carrying about that, you need to let it go. She’s moved on. She’s found a life that works for her. You don’t have to understand it, but you do have to respect it."

Jason pulled away, shaking his head. "You don’t get it, Bruce. I—" He stopped, biting back the words he didn’t want to say.

Bruce didn’t press him. Instead, he walked back to his chair, picking up his scotch again. "She meets with me because she chooses to, Jason. I don’t force her, and I certainly don’t manipulate her. I won’t believe that you’ll discredit either of us for that."

Jason stared at him for a long moment, his chest heaving with barely contained frustration. Finally, he turned toward the door, his voice bitter as he said, "She deserves better than both of us, Bruce."

Bruce didn’t argue. Instead, he simply said, "Then maybe it’s time you trusted her to figure out what ‘better’ means for herself."

Jason paused at the doorway, his head hanging low, but he didn’t turn back. "You always have a way of making it sound like you’re right," he muttered, and with that, he was gone, leaving Bruce alone in the quiet of the study.

The door to the study swung shut behind Jason with a thud, leaving Bruce alone in the stillness. He stood there for a moment, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, watching the ripples settle. It wasn’t like Jason to retreat without having the last word—this was different. Bruce knew that tone in Jason’s voice, the frustration and the hurt he wouldn’t name.

Sinking back into his chair, Bruce took a slow sip of his scotch and allowed himself a rare moment of reflection. Jason’s words lingered, biting at the edges of his thoughts.

"She deserves better than both of us."

Jason didn’t know. He didn’t see what those meetings actually were—what they had always been.

Bruce let out a low sigh, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at the glass in his hand. You had chosen this life for yourself, yes, but your meetings with him were nothing like Jason imagined. There was no coercion, no strings attached, no sordid arrangements cloaked in dim lighting and shadows.

What Jason couldn’t understand—because he never asked—was that those meetings were just that: meetings.

When you slid into the booth across from Bruce or greeted him with your dry, teasing smile, it wasn’t about anything Jason would have assumed. You would talk—sometimes at length, sometimes in quiet bursts of conversation peppered with your usual biting humor. You’d ask about Wayne Enterprises, throwing in snide comments about the "corporate oligarch" sitting before you, but your questions were genuine. You wanted to know how things were going, what challenges the company faced, and how he was handling the relentless demands of his double life.

In turn, Bruce would ask about you. He’d ask about the club, your coworkers, and whether you felt safe. Sometimes, if the mood struck, he’d ask about the books he remembered you mentioned you were reading. And always, always, he’d ask about your well-being.

You never lied to him. If you were tired, you said so. If something had gone wrong at the club or with a customer, you told him. And sometimes—on rare, fleeting occasions—you’d let your guard down just enough to talk about the things that truly mattered, the things you didn’t admit to anyone else.

Jason didn’t know that the only thing exchanged in those private rooms was conversation. No physicality, no power plays—just two people finding solace in each other’s company even it’s just for an hour.

Bruce set the glass down and leaned back in his chair, his expression settling into something unreadable. Jason always assumed the worst because Jason’s mind was wired that way, a defense mechanism from years of betrayal and loss. Bruce didn’t fault him for it, but he wished, for once, Jason would ask instead of accuse.

You had made your choice to leave the vigilante life behind. And while Jason might have thought it was a fall from grace, Bruce could see it for what it really was: your way of taking control of your life, on your terms.

Jason didn’t understand yet, but maybe, with time, he would. Until then, Bruce will continue to meet with you as long as you choose to show up. Not because he needed you, but because he respected the person you’d become—a person strong enough to face the world without the mask. Something he was still unsure if he could achieve. 

He took another sip of scotch, letting the warmth spread through his chest. There would be no forcing your hand, no veiled attempts to pull you back into the life you’d left behind. You’d meet with him as long as you wanted to, and when you didn’t, he’d respect that, too.

Jason would never say it out loud, but his presence at the club last night wasn’t just about you. It was about him, about the guilt he carried for leaving, the ache of seeing someone he loved move on without him. Bruce knew that ache well—it was the same one he carried for every person who’d ever walked away from him.

The study was silent again, the only sound the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. Bruce let his thoughts drift as he leaned back, knowing that, in the end, you would make your own choices. And he would let you—because that was the only way any of you could move forward.

[brainrotss]

lost things and lazy days 🍯

jason todd x gn!reader

jason todd fluff + suggestive content towards the end

Jason had declared a day off, a rare phenomenon in itself. It was the kind of occasion you’d once thought would mean indulgent, lazy hours together: coffee in bed, a nap in the sunlight streaming through the windows, maybe even some takeout for dinner. But Jason wasn’t particularly good at being idle. He’d lasted exactly an hour before retreating to the fire escape with a book in hand and a cigarette between his lips, leaving you alone to your own devices.

And so, naturally, you’d filled the time by cleaning. The laundry was folded and tucked away, the sink sparkled, and your jewelry box—which hadn’t been touched in months—was finally getting its due. You’d made an afternoon of it, wiping down necklaces, untangling chains, and polishing earrings you’d forgotten you owned.

It wasn’t until you came across your nose stud—the tiny gold one Jason had always complimented—that you paused. Next to it was the new one he’d given you, sleek and crimson, the faint outline of his Red Hood emblem carved delicately into the design. You turned it over in your fingers, smiling faintly. It was so uncharacteristic of him to pick something so refined, but somehow, it suited you.

With a determined nod, you decided to make the switch. Carefully, you unscrewed the gold stud, balancing it between your fingers—only for it to slip, hit the floor with a faint plink, and vanish.

“Shit,” you muttered, dropping to your hands and knees. The jewelry couldn’t have gone far. You swept your hand under the dresser, the nightstand, even the edge of the rug. Still, nothing.

“Should I be concerned?” Jason’s voice cut through your muttering, tinged with amusement.

You froze, glancing over your shoulder. He stood in the doorway, his broad frame backlit by the pale winter light streaming through the living room. His arms were crossed, and he wore the kind of smirk that promised trouble.

“Jason,” you sighed, exasperated. “Don’t just stand there. Help me.”

But he didn’t move. His gaze swept over you slowly, deliberately, taking in the sight of you on all fours, hair falling in your face, your body arched in a position that was clearly making it difficult for him to focus.

“Help you?” he repeated, tilting his head as his smirk widened. “You sure about that? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’ve got it under control.”

You huffed, pushing back a strand of hair and fixing him with a glare. “I dropped my nose stud—the one you like. If I don’t find it, it’s gone forever. So stop staring and do something.”

Jason stepped into the room, crouching down beside you with a casual ease. His grin didn’t waver; if anything, it grew sharper. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “I kind of like this. You, on your hands and knees, asking for my help.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, though you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the floor.

“I’m just saying,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself. “If you wanted me to walk in on this, you could’ve just said so. No need to drop expensive jewelry to get my attention.”

“Jason,” you warned, the edge in your voice tempered by the faint tremor of amusement.

“What?” he asked, innocent as ever. “You can’t blame your boyfriend for appreciating the view.”

You sighed, crawling toward the dresser. “If you’re not going to help, you can leave.”

Jason chuckled, finally lowering himself fully to the floor. “Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist—unless that’s part of the plan too.”

“Jason.”

“Fine,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Let’s find your precious stud before you combust.”

For a while, the two of you searched in relative silence, Jason occasionally tossing out comments about how nose studs were designed to torment people or how you should consider wearing something less tiny next time. You ignored him for the most part, though your cheeks stayed warm, his earlier words echoing in the back of your mind.

“Got it,” he said finally, fishing the stud out from under the bed. He held it up between two fingers, the gold glinting faintly in the light. “See? I’m a goddamn hero.”

“Congratulations,” you said dryly, reaching for it. But Jason pulled his hand back, his grin returning in full force.

“Hold up,” he said. “You’re not getting this back for free.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Jason, give it to me.”

“Not until you thank me properly,” he said, his tone dropping into something warmer, darker. “You know, for saving the day.”

You arched an eyebrow, refusing to rise to the bait. “And what, exactly, would a ‘proper’ thank-you entail?”

Jason leaned closer, his free hand brushing lightly against your jaw. “I think you know,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You met his gaze evenly, though your heart betrayed you by skipping a beat. “Tell you what,” you said, snatching the stud from his hand before he could react, “I’ll give you a proper thank-you after I clean up the mess you’ve been leaving all week.”

Jason blinked, caught off guard for a split second, before a slow grin spread across his face. “We're about to make a bigger one baby, cmon” he purred.

“don't care, you aren't getting out of this,” you countered, standing and brushing off your knees.

Jason stood too, stepping closer until there was almost no space between you. His hands found your waist, pulling you gently against him. “You’re lucky I like it when you fight back,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

“And you’re lucky I have the patience of a saint,” you shot back, though your voice softened as his fingers traced lazy circles against your hip.

Jason laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained, before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Careful, sweetheart,” he said, his grin turning almost wolfish. “I’m not as patient as you.”

[brainrotss]

jason todd x gn!reader

heavily inspired by this

Jason slipped into the apartment like a shadow, careful to keep his steps light despite the solid weight of his boots. Patrol had been manageable—if by manageable you meant chasing down some street-level punks who couldn’t tell the difference between bravado and stupidity—but the tension still clung to him. It always did. He dropped his helmet on the counter with a faint clunk, shrugging off his jacket in one practiced motion, and glanced toward the bedroom. The faint amber glow of the bedside lamp leaked out through the crack in the door, the only sign you were still awake.

He pushed the door open softly, leaning his broad frame against the doorway. You were nestled under the covers, your head propped on a pillow, entirely absorbed in the glow of your phone. The faint blue light reflected off your face, catching the flicker of your eyelashes as you stared at the screen. You didn’t even look up.

Jason narrowed his eyes, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Still awake?” he asked, his voice low and familiar, gravel-soft with the lingering chill of the night air.

“Mhm,” you replied, barely acknowledging him, your attention still locked on whatever was playing on your phone.

Jason huffed a quiet laugh, stepping inside and letting the door creak shut behind him. He leaned his shoulder against the wall next to the bed, crossing his arms as he looked down at you. “No ‘Hey, Jay,’ no ‘How was patrol?’ Just... this?” He motioned toward your phone with a tilt of his chin, his voice carrying an edge of mock indignation. “What’s so important that I don’t even get a kiss?”

Still, you didn’t look up. “It’s nothing,” you said vaguely, brushing him off.

Jason’s brows furrowed as he shifted closer, the springs of the mattress dipping under his weight when he perched on the edge of the bed. “What are you watching?” His voice was sharper now, playful but probing, and before you could stop him, he reached over and plucked one of your earbuds free.

The sound hit him immediately—a voice, low and accented, dripping with theatrical seduction. “Mi amor... step closer, and let me show you the eternity you were destined for...”

Jason froze, staring at the tiny screen as though it might explain itself. Then his head snapped toward you, disbelief etched into every line of his face. “What the—are you listening to some guy pretend to be a vampire?”

“It’s ASMR,” you said simply, as if that clarified everything.

Jason’s eyes narrowed further. “ASMR? This guy’s seducing you like it’s prom night for the undead, and you’re calling it relaxing?”

“It is relaxing,” you said, finally glancing up at him with an amused smirk. “He’s got the whole vibe down.”

“The vibe down?” Jason repeated, his voice pitching higher with mock outrage. He pointed at your phone accusingly. “This guy couldn’t vibe his way out of a coffin.” His tone turned defensive as he straightened up. “I could do better.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really,” Jason shot back, leaning in slightly as if to prove a point. “I got range. Watch this.” Clearing his throat, he pitched his voice low, adopting a softer, more deliberate cadence. “Mi amor... come with me into the night, where the moonlight... uh, whatever.. shines? No, wait. Shadows. Shadows are better.” He faltered for a second, but recovered quickly, his expression deadly serious. “Together, we’ll... I don’t know, drink some wine? Dance in graveyards or something”

You tried to stifle a laugh, but it broke through anyway, soft and breathless, filling the quiet room. Jason’s confidence cracked as he leaned back, his brow furrowing with mock annoyance. “What?” he demanded, though the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying him.

“You were doing okay,” you said, barely managing to get the words out between laughs, “until you mixed up goths and vampires dancing.’”

Jason groaned, running a hand through his hair as he fell back against the bed. “Whats the difference?” he muttered, though the faint blush creeping up his neck said otherwise. “At least I don’t sound like Señor Sparkle over there.”

Still laughing, you leaned over him, grinning as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry,” you teased, your tone light and mischievous. “I’ll only choose him when you leave me all alone.”

Jason’s head snapped toward you, his expression caught somewhere between shock and betrayal. “You did not just say that.”

Before he could protest further, you reached over and clicked off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness as you giggled uncontrollably. “Goodnight, Jay,” you called sweetly, burying yourself under the covers.

Jason groaned again, though you could hear the faintest trace of a laugh in his exasperated tone. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, sliding into bed beside you. “I save the city, and this is what I come home to.”

Still grinning, you nestled against him, feeling the tension ease from his body despite his grumbling. “You’ll always be my favorite,” you murmured, your voice soft now.

“Damn right I will,” he said, pulling you closer. “But don’t think I’m letting this go.”

[brainrotss]

pls keep writing for dale cooper there’s like nothing for him and I need him so bad

oh ofc hun, couldnt imagine not writing about him. might have a valentine special in the works 🫣

[brainrotss]

hi yall, i just wanna apologize for my absence, its been a very difficult time for me personally but im back! going through my drafts i have saved for yall <3