Priority One

Nah you guys ain't understanding. I love Dante. I'll always love Dante. This is a Dantelover space. If Dante has 1 billion fans I am one of them, if Dante has 2 fans I am one of them, if Dante has only 1 fan THEN I AM THAT FAN. And if Dante has no fans then I'm gone. NOBODY DOES LIKE <HIM3

gold rush ; benedict bridgerton x reader (part one)

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: you have loved benedict bridgerton since you first met him, but after anthony married, he became the ton's favorite bridgerton, and now that everybody wants him, you realized you don't like a gold rush.

warnings/tags: unrequited love (at first), benedict bridgerton being a clueless disaster, benedict is a curious little shit, married kate and anthony, platonic anthony bridgerton & reader, song: gold rush (taylor swift), inspired by taylor swift lyrics

word count: 2.5K

❁ part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

❁ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

You have loved Benedict Bridgerton since you first met him, that you wouldn't deny. However, it was complicated to say the least because he was the talk of the town.

Especially after his brother, the Viscount, had married. Right then, he was the Ton's favorite Bridgerton.

Every mama wanted him to marry her daughter… The artist was always getting the attention of every lady around. Including you.

You have loved Benedict Bridgerton since you first met him, when your family returned to London after having lived in New York for longer than you have lived. Your father was Edmund Bridgerton's childhood best friend, and as soon as he had heard of your family's return, your invitation to their home arrived.

Aubrey Hall was the lovely home of the Bridgertons, where Lord and Lady Bridgerton lived alongside their seven children: Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, Eloise, Francesca, and Gregory. Unfortunately, you were older than the oldest daughter, and the one who was closer to you in age was the second born. Still, he was three years older than you and, as a man, there was no way he would play with you. There was your older brother who is Anthony's age to play with, so you were left alone mostly.

When your eyes met Benedict's, you were instantly in love. He, as expected, barely looked at you. In spite of his indifference, your heart used to beat faster than the fastest horse every time he was around, which, after a few years, was more often than not. The Bridgertons returned to London after their Father's death, and your Father took as his newest life purpose to help Anthony become the lord of the house. Therefore, there were frequent dinner parties, balls held together, and many events in which both your families were seen as one.

You have loved Benedict Bridgerton since you first met him, even when everyone expected you to marry Anthony. Even he saw himself married to you once the moment came, an idea that you managed to erase as you confessed to him you were hopelessly in love with his younger brother.

Then, once Anthony got married to Kate, all the attention was set on the next Bridgerton: Benedict, and you knew it would be for the best if you decided to throw away your feelings for him.

The one thing on Earth you were certain was that he would never lay his eyes on you, and that was fine. He did not owe you his affections, regardless of how hot yours for him burnt.

Benedict turned into a gold rush right then, and you knew you did not stand a chance against any of those ladies when you were nothing new.

Your love for him grew and ruined you like poison ivy that tied your hands, and you would be lying if you said you weren't tired of being at his oblivious mercy.

Always romanticizing the tiniest of attentions, being like a flush around him, imagining a future together. All for nothing, because you despised feeling like that. Feeling the way Benedict made you feel.

It was scary, the way your world spinned around his. Terrifying, the amount of diaries filled with poems you have written about him. Horrific, how fond you were of the idea of spending every second you have left to live by his side.

"Are you, by chance, feeling heroic tonight? Even the smallest bit?"

You scoffed. "Colin, my feet are killing me, so I will not be dancing anymore tonight. Other than that, you may use me as an excuse however you please."

"But if Miss Cowper sees me available, she will come to me."

"Then get out of my hair, I don't want to have her near me after what she did the last time!"

"If you dance with me, I will stop talking about my travels when you're around."

You quickly changed your mind at this tempting offer. "Deal, but let's wait until the next song."

Colin rolled his eyes, reluctantly speaking. "I will be right back, I shall bring you some champagne."

You nodded, watching him leave. Your eyes crossed paths with Penelope's for a brief second, and then you turned to none other than Benedict Bridgerton in the flesh. He was, however, dancing with some girl from the Ton.

Jealousy creeped inside you, threatening to show on your face.

"There is only one moment in which I take pity on being married," Anthony said, standing beside you with his wife next to him. "I cannot dance with you to make Benedict jealous anymore."

You looked around, and as soon as you noticed no one was looking, smacked his arm. "Lord Bridgerton, that was low to say the least."

He and Kate laughed.

"My apologies," he muttered sarcastically. "What a charming young lady you are, I cannot fathom why you are not married yet."

"Anthony…" Kate threatened him.

"No need, Kate. He is so right, even Papa dearest agrees with him," you commented dryly. "He is still upset because I rejected him, please, cut him some slack."

She laughed. "What?"

"Her Father advised me to marry her," Anthony replied. "I courted her for weeks and she didn't even realize until I proposed to her. Right there, she confessed her undying love for my brother and we didn't marry."

"You would be the Viscountess now, do you regret it?" Kate joked.

"Well, at least I never was engaged to be married to the wrong sibling like a friend of mine."

Anthony rolled his eyes in annoyance as Kate snorted.

"You must admit that was quite funny, my love."

"Nothing to admit here. It was not funny at all."

"What did I miss?" Colin asked, appearing suddenly and offering you a glass of champagne.

"I was just informed that Anthony was planning to marry Y/N."

Colin nodded. "Yes, and she rejected him because he is the boring Bridgerton. Unlike me, let's dance."

"If you mention the word 'Greece' ever again, I will personally tell Lord Cowper that you dishonored his daughter, then you will be inevitably forced to marry her."

"It will be as if I never left London in the first place, Miss Y/L/N." he said with a cynical smile.

You laughed, and started dancing with Colin.

"I did not know that Colin and Y/N were so close," Benedict mentioned to Anthony, approaching him after some time. "They have danced three times now."

Anthony eyed his brother. "Why are you asking me that, Brother? Does it bother you?"

The younger brother scoffed. "Not at all, why would you think that?"

"No, no reason at all. I was just asking."

"So? Is Colin courting her?"

"One of us should be the one to marry her," Anthony said, a glint of mischief shining in his eyes. "I am already married, you seem uninterested, so that leaves Colin."

He nodded. "I see."

"Or are you interested?"

"She is our friend and I only wish the best for her," Benedict replied. "I just doubt Colin's intentions, that is it."

"Is it that you have better intentions, Brother?"

"That is not what I am saying."

Anthony smirked, seeing how you returned to where they were next to Colin. "Dance with her."

"I have the most wonderful news for you, my dearest friends," You grinned. "As long as you are near me, you will not hear anything regarding Colin's travels. You are very welcome."

"We have been blessed."

"We have indeed," Benedict agreed, seeing how Colin rolled his eyes. Anthony jostled him, but you noticed. "Would you dance with me?"

You pursed your lips, a serious expression. "I am quite tired, Benedict. Perhaps the next time."

Anthony's amused face softened at your response, and so did Colin's. You always wanted Benedict. You loved dancing with him and spending time with him.

They knew you could be dead tired, but if he offered, you would dance to death.

"Oh," Benedict gave you a forced smile. "It is fine, next time it is."

But the Cowper Ball came and you rejected Benedict once again. Then, the Schmidt Ball, the Bridgerton Ball, the Reynolds Ball, and you still said no to all of his dance invitations.

It reached the point he was just tired of your indifference toward him, since not only have you declined dancing with him every time, but you also refused to be near him for longer than strictly necessary or be alone with him anymore. Thus, Benedict had no other choice but to finally ask you himself.

One day, he just arrived at your family's home, looking for you most urgently.

He was let in. With him, there was no need to announce his arrival. Benedict just went to your studio.

Looking around, he spotted many differences since the last time he visited you: the paintings he had painted for you weren't hung anymore, just piled in the corner of the room; your pianoforte he had drawn himself the sunset on was replaced for a new one; the books he gave you long forgotten inside a decaying box.

Benedict's heart hurt at the sight of you erasing him from your life just like that, no warning or reasons he was aware of.

He approached the box, taking out all the novels and astronomy books he had picked just for you. Then, he stumbled upon loose sheets thrown around. He recognized easily your handwriting on them.

It is wrong to. Those are her intimate thoughts and should be none of my concern, Benedict thought, but again, the reason why she is pushing me away could be there.

So he took the first ones he found, seeing how the very first page had the title About Benedict Bridgerton.

Benedict bit his lip hesitantly, making sure no one was around and he could take a good look at what you wrote about him.

However, surprise clouded his features as he read the well worded feelings turned to ink.

I remember when I first met him. Benedict did not even determine me and I was devastated! However, I was still enchanted to meet him. He has always been so handsome and enchanting, and perhaps I have loved him since we first met.

A small piece of another sheet caught his attention.

Please, do not be in love with someone else.

Please, do not have somebody waiting on you

Another sheet followed.

Today, I saw Benedict dancing with that girl. I wish I could make her disappear with only one glance so he would like me without her around to stop it.

I constantly dream of the day he wakes up and finds that what he is looking for has been here the whole time. Why can he not see he belongs with me?

All this time how could he not know that he belongs with me? You belong with me. I have been here all along.

I am certain she cannot make him laugh like I do and that he does not tell her about his dreams like he does to me. She should just go away.

He chuckled slightly.

Then he spotted another one.

I hate Benedict Bridgerton. Despise him. Loathe him.

At the Bridgerton Ball, he danced with someone else and did not even look at me. He neither said hello nor goodbye!

Perhaps I should listen to my Papa and let him tell Anthony to propose to me (because Benedict will never like me). He will never realize I am the one he should be with. He will never return my affections.

And, guess what? At the Featherington Ball, she did not dance with Benedict and just then he remembered I existed and came to me. I hate him because I love him so much.

Everyone just assumes I know nothing, but I knew I would curse him for the longest time, I knew I wish he would have changed his mind.

Chasing shadows in the ballroom, I knew he would miss me once the moment died. I knew to love would be to lose my mind! I knew he would come back to me.

Because I know everything!

Benedict sighed, cursing himself for having been so blind all this time, for not being able to notice your affections or return your feelings before.

I am tired. This love will make me fall sick. I am tired of Anthony shaming me for loving his brother and having rejected him that time. I wish I had never met Benedict Bridgerton, I wish I had never come to London… I give up.

I do not like a gold rush. I hate that anyone would die to feel his touch. Everybody wonders what it would be like to love him, everybody wants him now.

I do not like that falling feels like flying until the bone crush. I hate a gold rush.

And I always wonder what must it be like to grow that beautiful? With his hair falling into place so effortlessly and a smile that could light up this whole town. I could be romanticizing everything, but my mind turns Benedict's life into something mystical. I cannot dare to dream about him anymore.

We will never be husband and wife, we will never have children together, he will never be mine. I must stop living under this naïve hope!

The town we never found will never bear witness of a love as pure as it, because it fades to grey. It will never be.

Benedict found another loose piece of paper.

Losing him feels as if I were bleeding. But again, he was never mine to lose.

He searched and searched for more pages, but could not find any.

"You knew all this time and had the audacity to not tell me?!"

Anthony frowned. "I knew what exactly?"

"You knew she loved me."

"Oh, that…" he pursed his lips, looking at Kate beside him. "I could not tell you, it was her secret."

"You let me let her hate me in the name of a secret?"

"If I had known you returned her feelings, I would have done something!"

Benedict kept quiet.

"You do not love her?"

"I- I do not know…" he replied to Anthony.

Kate sighed. "If you don't know, let her go."

"I cannot let her hate me."

"She does not hate you." Anthony said calmly.

"She explicitly said so." Benedict replied.

"She could never hate you, Benedict." Kate retorted. "No matter what she said."

"She wrote it, Kate, she wrote that she hated me."

"What did you read, Benedict?" she questioned, threat lingering in her voice.

He exhaled. "I went to the Y/L/N Manor and saw that she replaced the piano we painted. She had the paintings I gave her gathering dust in a corner, and all the books I got her inside a box. I just… looked at the box and saw some pages with things she wrote about me."

"How dare you read that?!" Kate scolded him.

"I wanted to know why she hated me!"

"She doesn't hate you!"

"Yes, she does! That is what she said!"

"She did not mean that!"

"How do you know?!"

"Okay, enough!" Kate yelled. "Y/N does not hate you because she loves you, alright? You love her, too? Go talk to her. You do not? Give her space. She does not deserve to have her heart broken by your hand, Benedict."

Benedict rolled his eyes. "Fine. Fine."

Image how confused the entire Bat family would be if Jason— touch repulsed, wants to work alone, barely even tolerates them most days— Todd finally gets sucked into one of Bruce's charity events, only to come with a date who he *cannot* keep his hands off. I'm talking, has his arm draped around her waist or over her shoulder whenever they're walking, hugging her from behind with his jaw on top of her hair (carefully though, so he won't mess it up), occasionally randomly kissing the back of her hand, or her cheek, or very quickly her neck before she smacks him away playfully.

And the media LOVES this.

The reporters who usually bother Bruce about his company, Dick about his romantic life, Damian about school, Duke about being recently legally adopted, Cass about her improving speech skills, Tim about recent publicity statements, all suddenly leave them alone to take picture after picture of Jason and whoever his date is. And Jason—has threatened, attempted, and actually punched reporters— Todd doesn't even care. He doesn't bat an eye, (pun intended) because they should take pictures with how gorgeous she looks.

He'd be offended if they didn't.

And when she blushes, getting a bit shy after hearing a few too many clicks, he runs a hand up and down her arm, tearing her away from the buffet to dance. Dance. Yes, Bruce thought he'd lost his mind when he saw his son whisk a beautiful woman into the middle of the room, willingly, even eagerly wrapping his arms around her comfortably and familiarly, while she rests her head against his chest and he rests his cheek against the side of your head, his eyes fluttering shut every once in a while.

Of course, his family tried to get to talk to him, really, they did. Something or someone conveniently got in the way every single time, until the event is over and Jason and his date manage to slip out in the crowd before the family gets to interrogate him about it.

His phone? He has to shut it off from all the calls and texts that overwhelm his inbox. Alfred even sent an email.

When he eventually does pick it up after having it on do not disturb for a while, he simply types in the group chat, "You told me to bring a date." Before putting it face down on the nightstand and rolling over in bed to wrap his arms around her, kissing her temple softly as she sleeps, out of your fancy dress and in his arms, where she belongs.

SAM'S NEW WINTER OUTFIT IS A PERSONAL ATTACK

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

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bat filet crochet (chart)

La Vie En Rose

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason wildly preferring you over everyone else

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: standard batfam arguing etc.

You sit curled up embarrassingly close to Jason on the couch, head on his shoulder. The team is still in their gear as they filter into the living room, masks and helmets discarded in scattered locations between here and the cave. The mission had been fairly simple and with all of them together it only took a couple hours to finish up.

As you waited, Alfred had kept your mind busy in the kitchen while he taught you how he makes his famous ice cream from scratch.

The clamor of the heroic party’s return had made itself known sooner than later, and you think your face must have displayed your emotions nicely because Alfred nodded you away with a small smile and no second thought.

You’d walked into the living room, weaving through the mess of siblings until a hand snuck out on your left and grabbed your wrist. You barely had time to look at him before Jason pulled you down to sit next him on the sofa. He wrapped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in and leaving virtually no space between you. His armor sits heavy against you, but a welcome weight on your shoulders.

Tim plops down on the couch across from you and you can just make out a bit of blood on the side of his head, aptly accompanied by an irritated look sprawled across his face. It’s not enough blood to be concerned about—not for them—but you can venture a guess that whatever they were up to shouldn’t have called for any injuries and his pique is likely directly related to that.

Though Dick’s goading aura might have something to do with it too, as he comes crashing down next to him a second later, partially sitting on Tim’s cape and pulling him into an awkward angle. 

Nightwing doesn’t seem too perturbed by the younger vigilante’s agitation and curt manner of pushing him off.

The others are too caught up in chatter to pay much attention to you, and you can be certain that’s why Jason takes that moment to press a kiss to the side of your head. He lets his lips linger there for just a second as you lean into him.

Alfred’s own entrance is the only thing able to subside the flurry of conversations skirting around the room.

“A job well done,” he commends with a nod. “A selection of ice creams awaits you in the kitchen.”

He gives you a sly wink before retreating back through the swinging door, leaving Stephanie and Cass to practically trip over themselves trying to beat each other to the kitchen. Robin follows after unhurried, mask still on, with his hands behind his back.

Jason kneads your thigh before pushing himself up to stand. He turns back, looking down to you. “What do you want?” he asks softly.

You hum, "Just strawberry's good."

Tim sits up, "Can I—”

"No, you've got legs,” Jason grumbles, stalking off to the kitchen.

Dick barks out a laugh and you bite back a smile.

Tim looks absolutely aghast. 

“That’s such bullshit. You know, he used to be nice.”

“No he didn’t,” Dick laughs, shaking his head. “Not since you’ve known him.”

Stephanie stumbles out of the kitchen then, the door hitting her back on the way, as she mutters a curse behind her. You can vaguely makeout Jason grunting something back before she rolls her eyes.

Steph looks at you, shaking her head as she returns to her seat, “You live like this?”

You shrug, “He’s nice to me.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Tim grumbles.

Jason returns after Cass a minute later with a bowl of strawberry ice cream and two spoons. He expertly ignores Tim’s unwavering glare as he resituates himself beside you.

He scoops your legs up over his lap and positions the bowl in between you, wrapping the sleeve of his jacket around it so that the cold porcelain doesn’t make contact with your skin.

The others have set themselves up so that the four of them are stuffed up against each other on the sofa adjacent to you, very obviously examining you both. 

And while you’re willing to acknowledge the amused stares and singular glare, Jason only sighs heavily, rolling his eyes as he glares at the coffee table.

Only a few seconds of this are allowed to go by before he pulls over a throw pillow and sets it over your knees, so that it rests atop your heads like a mini-fort, successfully blocking out his siblings' view of the two of you.

You smile and press a light kiss to his shoulder as he simmers.

Regrettably, you miss the way Damian side-eyes the pillow above you as he re-enters the room, perching himself atop the back of the couch behind the others.

“This is so nice,” Dick preens. “He used to just leave the room when too many of us gathered in one place. Now he has to stay.”

Stephanie watches the makeshift fort with wary eyes, scooping ice cream into her mouth. “Yeah…I don’t wanna freak you guys out but, uh…”

It’s quiet for a moment and you guess Cass is speaking. 

You’re proven right when Stephanie starts up again, “My thoughts exactly.” Her voice drops into a raspy whisper that isn’t really meant to go unheard, “I don’t know who the hell that is, but it is not Jason.” 

“This is unprecedented,” Damian mumbles, dipping into his own chocolate cup.

“Do they always talk about you like you’re not here?” you ask Jason quietly. 

“Yes,” he grumbles with a scornful look directed at the bowl.

A low hiss can be heard immediately after, “I’ve never heard him whisper before, what the fuck?”

You can’t hide your laugh as well as you mean to, but you know Jason’s light swat to your thigh is nothing more than a rib.

Mumbles continue along the other couch, mostly going unacknowledged, until Tim busts out, “He doesn’t even like strawberry!”

Jason snaps the pillow out of the way, “The fuck do you know about what I like?”

Tim resets his posture with one hell of an attitude, snarking, “Well I can name one thing you really seem to fucking—”

Jason grabs the pillow harshly and chucks it at Tims head which connects with a loud thwack.

Damian swats it away before it can knock him off balance, though his scowl is only half worth what Tim’s is. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he says with a sneer. “This is why you don’t get invited to movie night anymore.”

Jason doubles back at him, “Sorry, is this not your own fucking house?”

Tim huffs, “Yes, which i—”

“Then get your own goddamn ice cream!”

Tim huffs as he stands, sending Jason a pointed look. “I’m going because I want to.”

Jason barely gives him a sardonic nod as he stomps off.

“Get me some too!” Dick calls back, only for the back of his head to be met with a sideways grimace from Tim.

As he leaves, the focus of the room seems to shift towards Damian dripping chocolate onto his cape and it fades away from there.

You turn to Jason, lowering your voice to just below a whisper, “If you don’t like strawberry—”

“I like it,” he tells you, leaving no room to argue as he takes a bite.

Voicemail. 

Voicemail.

Voicemail. 

Voicemail.

Declined.

Voicemail.

Declined.

Declined. 

“I swear to God, he better be dead,” Stephanie mutters to herself.

She shuts her phone off and tosses it into the passenger seat with a huff. Her fingers drum against the steering wheel as she scans the sidewalk across from her car.

The night before the majority of the team had been involved in a less-than-successful plan, which some have called “a display of complete idiocy and inability to circumspect.”

Then Tim had to go and make a joke about that word choice in what was apparently a bad moment. This gave way to a harsher punishment of the team being forced to clean the batcave foot by square foot—notably, an impossible task.

So naturally, they had to retaliate.

The plan was to dismantle the batmobile piece by piece and leave it a collection of parts for Bruce to find. Problem being, the group as it stood didn’t possess the capability to do so without doing a great deal of damage to the parts. Damage, that the family was not willing to face extra retribution for.

Fortunately, they knew just the man for the job. 

Unfortunately, said man has devoted his life to ignoring their messages, favoring to live peacefully and distantly from them. And because that peace and distance does come with an add-on of borderline complete secrecy from his family, no one had any idea where to look for him.

So, Stephanie decided to do the next most rational thing and track down your location. She’d hoped he would be with you like he always is, but for seemingly the first time in the last year—he’s nowhere to be found.

Now, was revenge for a minor-slight by Bruce so important that it required Stephanie to take all of these steps to get a hold of Jason? No, absolutely not. She’s pretty sure that the others have already given up on it by now and started cleaning. But it’s about the principal. And also, she does not want to clean the floors of a cave.

She jumps up in her seat when she spots you exiting a store, scurrying to unbuckle and pry the car door open.

She’s across the street in half a second, running directly into your line of sight. It actually would’ve been very difficult for her to miss your line of sight, considering she’d landed only a good six inches in front of your face. “Hey!”   

“Oh, fuck—” you jump, grabbing your chest. You take a breath when you realize who it is, less surprised now by the theatrics of the introduction. “Hey Steph.”

“Hey,” she smiles casually, like she didn’t do what she just did. “So Jason’s been ignoring us and I need to get a hold of him,” she tells you.

You nod, still collecting yourself. “Oh. I don’t know where he is—”

She shakes her head, “That’s fine. Can I use your phone to call him?”

You frown, “Is something wrong?”

“With him, yeah,” she snarks. “I called him, Tim called him, Dick called him, Cass called him, Damian called him, we used Bruce’s phone to call him—that was a bit of a long shot, but still. This is our last option. Well, not our last option, if this doesn’t work I could get really invasive, but—” She shakes the thought from her head, “Nevermind.”

You nod blankly, taking in the mountain of information she’d just handed you. “How’d you know I was here?”

She scans your eyes back and forth for a second before her own widen in realization and she’s shaking her head. “No, no, don’t worry we’re not tracking you! I just hacked into the traffic cameras to find you.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, nodding some more. “Okay.”

You hand her your phone without any further questions—for your own sake—and she happily accepts. 

“You know I texted him 115 times?” she tells you as she scrolls through your contacts.

You furrow your eyebrows, watching her click his name and press the phone to her ear. “Did you count?”

“Well, I had the time, di—you son of a bitch! One ring?” Stephanie scorns into the phone.

You can hear Jason groan on the other end of the line. 

He says something to Stephanie that she follows up with a firm shake of her head.

“No,” she says defiantly. “She let me use it.”

Stephanie rolls her eyes, not pleased with his response. “What if it was an emergency?”

She listens for a second, skeptical look on her face.

She gasps suddenly, “I am not overstepping, we thought you were dead!”

Over the course of about ten seconds the shock on her face drops into just-been-caught guilt. “Well, I mean we considered it.”

You imagine Jason’s telling her to give you your phone back as she stands her ground, pushing, “If you promise to text me back.”

A short response on his end.

“Promise to text me back!”

There’s a brief lull before she’s giving a self-satisfied nod and jostling your phone back into your hands. “Here ya go. Thanks, babe!” She smiles wide at you before jogging back across the street, not waiting for the cars.

You smile as you watch her go, putting the phone up to your ear, “Hey Jay.”

You can hear the relief on the other end of the line. “Hey sweetheart. You know if you see Steph in public, you can just walk away?”

“I’m not going to walk away from your family.” You look again across the street, “Also I don’t think that was an option for me this time.”

“That thing is fucking scary.”

Cass smiles fondly, signing, “I think he’s cute.”

Tim eyes the way Salem traipses around his feet, yellow eyes staring up at him. “Why’s it even here?”

Jason rolls his eyes, continuing to scroll on his phone. “He’s hers. Deal with it.”

Tim scrunches up his mouth. “She knows I hate it. And she, unlike you, wouldn’t subject me to this just for the hell of it. So again I ask: why is it here?”

Jason huffs, looking up from his phone. “What do you want me to say? He wants to be.”

Tim scoffs at that, “‘It wants to be’? You’re the one who put it in the car.”

“No, I didn’t,” Jason says factually.

Tim looks at him sideways as Salem leaps onto Jason’s lap and nudges his hand up. Jason follows along as requested, petting the top of Salem’s head with an open palm. 

Tim squirms to the other side of the couch with a look of disgust on his face. Salem watches him the whole time.  

A smile adorns Cass’ face as she signs, “She says he can read people’s energy.”

Tim huffs, resting his head against his fist. “What does that even mean?”

The conversation is cut off by the clatter of you and Dick stumbling into the room, carrying a freshly painted headboard. Blue paint coats both of your hands and has no doubt stained your clothes.

You’re clearly struggling a bit to keep your grip on your end, the weight of the wooden frame dragging your arms down.

Jason stands and Salem flows along with his movements easily, leaping down onto the hardwood. He comes over and helps you lift your end of the frame with a stupid amount of ease, to the point that you’re not even holding any of the weight up anymore. The three of you—less so you—move the headboard and lean it up against the wall. After it's set down Jason steps back and looks over it gingerly.

“It looks good,” he murmurs to you, quiet enough to not give his brother the satisfaction of his approval.

Dick had asked you over to help him paint Damian’s bed frame as a surprise for him for not getting in any “altercations” at school this semester. You’d decided on coating it with his favorite color first and then fill it in with a collection of what Dick has “on good authority” are his favorite animals. It’s a fairly random assortment that you’re not sure adds to or disproves Dick’s credibility. You’d spent the better half of the afternoon googling animals you’d never heard of just to make sure you projected their likenesses accurately. Dick had been very clear that you had to be precise on the details because Damian would know if he was really looking at a komodo dragon painting or if it was “some common lizard.”

You sigh, “I hope he likes it. I’m worried we did it too childish for him.”

“He is a child,” Jason says plainly.

“But he is not childish,” you counter. And he sure isn’t. You’d had a hard enough time convincing Damian to watch cartoons, adding a colorful animal mural to his bedroom might be one step too far. You’re still trying to figure him out.

“He’ll like it,” he says firmly.

You smile, slipping around under his arm and tucking yourself into his side.

Not a moment later, Dick slings an arm around Jason's shoulder, grinning as he pulls his brother in close.

Jason’s immediately louring. "No, get away from me."

Dick, unfazed and still smiling, removes his arm and takes a big step to the right. You do the same, figuring he needs his space, but you get caught by the wrist before you can do more than sway to the side. 

“Not you.” 

He pulls you back under his arm, wrapping it around the front of your shoulders. You hook your fingers around his forearm, letting your hand hang.

You hear a double-clap from the other side of the room that has you both turning around to face Cass. 

She signs something to Jason with a fond smile on her face. 

You look back and forth between them as Jason waves her off. “What?”

He shakes his head, “It’s nothing. She said—she said we’re cute.”

You smile up at him and he deflects—not so subtly—and starts nudging you back towards where the group is gathered, now all standing. 

Dick’s quick to start bragging off to the room about how great of a job the two of you did and how really complex and daunting it actually is painting animals for a child.

As he talks, your eyes find Jason, who’s definitely about to roll his eyes any second now. A bit subconsciously, your hand comes up to brush Jason’s white streak of hair back, away from tickling his forehead. 

On the other side of Jason, Tim does the same, sweeping Jason’s hair back in a much more mocking manner. 

This gives way to Jason smacking his hand away, harder than he needed to.

"Wha—You let her do it!" Tim protests, overplaying how much the slap hurt.

Jason scowls, "She can do whatever she wants."

Tim drops his shoulders, looking at Jason as if he’d been scandalized. “Oh but I can’t?”

“Not if it involves touching me,” Jason grumbles.

Tim steps closer, putting a finger to Jason’s chest. “You’re such a—”

From the floor, Salem hisses up at Tim, successfully startling the teenager. “Auahh—”

He stumbles backwards, grimacing at the cat. 

“Fucking demon,” he hisses, walking away.

When Tim’s far enough away and Salem’s seemingly satisfied, he brushes up against your leg, purring. 

You peer down at him with a furrowed brow. 

“What’s Salem doing here?”

“I’m not doing this shit with you.”

“No, come on, 9 out of 10 times is what you said. How ‘bout just once? Beat me one time at anything, Jaybird.”

“Anything?” Jason asks like he knows damn well Dick can’t swear on that word.

Rightly so, Dick backtracks. “Something agreed upon.”

Jason throws his hands up, partially in exasperation, partially relenting.

Dick smoothly turns his back to him, announcing, “Opening up the room for ideas.”

Damian’s eye roll is almost audible from the corner armchair, where his attention is unmoved from intently sharpening a blade he’d recently come into possession of.

Bruce similarly remains unbothered in his seat, trying to read despite the distractions. 

“Ooh, okay. Okay.” Stephanie wiggles up a little on the couch. “You could race!”

Dick shakes his head negatively, “I literally just busted my knee up two days ago, Steph.”

“Convenient,” Jason mumbles.

“You were there!” Dick exclaims with an open mouth.

Steph continues, “Um…”

Cass waves to the room from her position upside down on the couch, head hanging down next to Stephanie’s legs. Attention successfully acquired, she signs, “Staring contest.”

Jason grimaces, “That sounds like a nightmare.”

Dick gives him a faux-smile.

“You should play chicken,” Damian chimes in, holding up his knife.

“No,” Bruce drones monotonously as he flips a page. 

“Tic tac toe?” Steph suggests.

Cass is already shaking her head as she scrunches up her mouth in thought.  

Jason rolls his eyes, “What are we, five?”

Dick nods, cracking his knuckles as he thinks. “No, we need something that really proves our worth.”

Bruce looks up from his book, staring numbly through his brow, but remains silent.

“You could arm wrestle,” Steph suggests.

The elder brother twitches at that, “Uh, no.”

Cass moves past that before a joke has the chance to be made. “Handstand contest?” she suggests.

Jason shrugs, “Yeah, sure.”

The elder brother looks at him incredulously. “You’ll do a handstand contest with me?”

“That’s what I just said.”

Dick scoffs, “Jaybird, I’m an acrobat, you’re just some guy.”

Jason, not giving him the courtesy of eye contact, pulls his sweatshirt off from his back. “Well, you’re a lot of things, aren’t you?”

Dick throws his head back with a squint.

Jason fishes his phone out of his pocket and Dick follows suit, offended stare maintaining all the while. 

No exchange is required as they both toss their phones across the room, landing together with a rough clatter on Damian’s lap. Damian’s resulting glare is borderline disgusted.

Dick starts them off, “Alright, go. One…two…”

Both men push up onto their hands, muscles flexing as they find their balance. Dick’s form is better, of course, but Jason looks to have a stronger foundation.   

They both hold strong as several minutes go by with the brothers only maintaining the attention of some of the room, and the interest of none of it.

Stephanie huffs and tilts her head, thoroughly unentertained with the consistency they’re both managing. 

“Starting to wish they’d picked something that moved along a little faster,” she murmurs to Cass.

Dick glances over at the younger brother, clearly displeased with his lack of trouble keeping up with him. He shuffles closer one hand at a time, using the decreased distance to poke at Jason with his foot, trying to knock him over.

Jason kicks him back harder, “Hey! Don’t be a dick—”

“Very funny,” Dick leers.

They both end up finding a struggle to keep balance and are forced to mind their own.  

A chime rings out from the corner that has heads turning briefly in his direction before coming back to the competition. 

“Who’s was that?” Dick calls out.

Damian leans over and inspects the screens with disinterest. “Todd’s.”

Jason adjusts his position, “Who is it?”

Damian responds with your name. 

“And?”

He picks up the phone shrugging like he couldn’t care less, “She wants to know if you want to go see some movie,”

There’s a brief silence before Jason drops out of the handstand, standing up. 

Dick’s blood-flushed face peers up at him, bewildered. “Wait, what?”

The family watches with wide eyes as Jason picks his sweatshirt up off the floor and tugs it back on.

Stephanie gawks, bordering on laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he says simply.

Dick lets himself fall into a kneeling position with a huff, “You would rather go to some movie you don’t even know the name of than win a bet?”

Jason moues at him, “Uh, yeah.”

He tosses a twenty at Dick, and plucks his phone from Damian’s hand as he strolls past him, typing out a reply.

Cass sits up a bit and signs up to Stephanie, “Does he even like movies?” 

Bruce, now attention now fully removed from his book, watches Jason exit with the slightest hint of a smile. Dick sits dumbly on the floor, staring after him with an open-mouth. 

Damian twists the knife in his hands around contemplatively before rising to stand. 

“I will go,” he announces, dropping his blade onto the seat of the chair. Jason grumbles a no but Damian follows after him just the same.

you know what happened to the last guy that didn’t reblog? … 🔪🧨💥😵⚰️🪦

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.