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mathiwrites · 2 months

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the justice league's moms' book club's guide to vampire slaying, a martha kent, alfred pennyworth, atlanna & hippolyta fanfic

Chapter 5 - The Book Club

In hindsight, Clark has always made learning about new cultures, traditions and personalities easy. It is her own fault for assuming that she could replicate the delicate balance that the League has achieved with a handful of letters, a book and some food.

Martha blinks between Hippolyta and Alfred—one built of fire and passion, and the other eternal cool. They stand on opposite sides of the room with contrasting temperaments. Unlike Atlanna and Hippolyta, she and Alfred were not raised in the ways of a warrior. They have lived gentler lives; their conflicts are solved with words, not challenges. She moves to intervene, but Atlanna touches her elbow, stopping her.

“If you intervene, she will not respect him. Alfred must stand on his own.” And there is not a shred of worry in her friend’s eyes. Atlanna has full confidence in the gentleman.

“It is a pleasure—,” Alfred begins. He extends a hand to her.

“I have yet to decide that,” Hippolyta snarls. Her blue eyes flicker down towards the extended hand, and she debates smacking it away. “Filth.” She spits, and the insult draws a sharp gasp from Martha.

“Hippolyta!” She reprimands, regardless of Atlanna’s warning. Alfred has been nothing but a good friend—an excellent friend, to be exact. Out of everyone in this room, Alfred has been there for her from Clark's exceptional childhood to the difficult loss of Jonathan. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t say something. “What is wrong with you? We’ve been corresponding for months!”

The change of pace is so strange, especially for Martha who has grown too used to the simplicities of a small town. If the tides change towards something or someone, she could always count on the local gossip to warn her. Martha had no time to brace herself against the anger here.

“I am simply defending my daughter’s honour against a man who found use for her.”

Martha and Atlanna’s gazes whip to Alfred, and both their heads tilt in confusion—in curiosity. Of all the reasons Hippolyta could hate Alfred for, that was not what any of them were expecting.

“But… Diana is fond of Alfred.” Atlanna proposes, blonde brows furrowing. “You are friends, are you not?”

“I think she means more than friends,” Martha adds, unhelpful.

“My daughter has a soft heart! She gives room to those who do not deserve it. To men who do not deserve it.”

Though the accusations soar, Alfred simply clears his throat. He knots his hands behind his back, an unmoved and proper Englishman in the face of a terrifyingly intimidating warrior. What he did, he must feel no shame or guilt in the face of it.

“Diana is very much like her mother in that way,” he quips, casual as ever.

Oh no. Oh no. This is how wars begin, isn’t it? Martha has the mind to call Barry and ask for advice to face a warrior Queen. He’d married one, after all. The four of them had agreed to keep their children out of it; Martha is confident that she can break through the tension with a little patience. She’s been through a hell of a lot more than this.

Lord, grant me the strength, she prays, silently looking up at the ceiling beams, as if she can see God above.

“You dare,” Hippolyta snarls and reaches for a nearby vase to launch at his head. Only then does Atlanna interfere, snatching it out of her hands with an apologetic smile. No matter, Hippolyta is more than happy to put her hands on the man’s neck. She swerves out of Atlanna’s grasp and closes the distance between herself and Alfred. “You have no right to speak of my decisions.”

“Oh, my apologies. I thought we were digging up the past by way of greetings.” Alfred steps aside, parrying or dodging her attacks, but never retaliating. He moves with enough swift confidence that Martha realizes that maybe she is the only one that has lived a peaceful life.

Just because Martha has never been to war, it does not mean that she is any less brave.

“Enough!” She slips between the two of them, trying to pry them apart. “You are guests in my house, and you will behave like mature adults. The kind that uses their words.” Martha pushes against Hippolyta and wedges herself between them. “You couldn’t have done this over letters? Now, sit or I’ll put you both to work in the barn until you get along.”

“My boys have a ‘get along’ shirt they wear when I am sick of their arguing. It has a crab on it. It would be fitting for you Lyta for you are acting very crabby.” Atlanna smiles.

“You mock me,” Hippolyta accuses her false friends.

Alfred tilts his head, peering over Martha. “No, we are reacting with equal and measured ridiculousness. Diana is a strong and intelligent woman. She is capable of making her own decisions, and she is accountable for them as well. Our separation was mutual.” He informs the group.

Oh. Oooooh. It all makes sense. Only a parent can understand the protectiveness that comes with having a child, even when they are fully grown. Martha laughs, a shaky sound of relief. She turns to smack Alfred on the chest and that seems to appease Hippolyta. “Alfred, she is too young,” Martha pauses, realizing what she’s said.

“I’m afraid I was the younger one in the relationship,” he laughs.

“This is no laughing matter. Diana is the princess of Themyscira, a gift from the gods and no man—”

Martha smacks Hippolyta in the shoulder too. She sings a song she’d used in Clark’s childhood. “Ears are for listening, mouths are for talking, but they cannot do both at once.” As as she hums, she touches her ears and her lips, in demonstration for Hippolyta. “Sit,” she repeats motioning at the couch.

Hippolyta is confused, but the other three seem far too amused, like an inside joke she is missing. “Fine,” she snaps, but only because she holds Martha in high regard and this is her home. Next time, if there is a next time, Themyscira will host this silly club and Alfred can simply drown in the sea for his trespasses.

“Now, with our words, very calmly, let’s talk about what happened and how that makes us feel.”

The only reason Alfred isn’t insulted is because he knows these guidelines are directed to ones who punch first and talk later. He finds an armchair at a reasonable distance from the Amazon.

“Yes, what is this about you and Diana? Give me all the tea,” Atlanna buzzes on the couch next to Hippolyta. It’s not often that she can engage in gossip, not since her departure from Atlantis. Oh, she missed the drama, especially when it did not involve her.

Alfred crosses a leg, leaning back in his seat. “I am a former Special Operations Executive. Diana and I met when I was in my twenties and we had a joint mission together. I was young and we had a fling. It was good fun.”

“Fun,” Hippolyta repeats with disdain.

“Oh, Lyta. Don’t pretend you don’t know exactly what he means.” Was she not propositioning Atlanna as her very first words to her in decades? “You are a terrible tease.”

Martha looks from Alfred to Hippolyta, and then Atlanna. Well, this is one way to get to know everyone. A very quick and personal way. She always figured that emotions are better out than in, so they can move on with better and less angry things.

The comment from Atlanna seems to slow Hippolyta’s murderous momentum. The Queen simply folds her arms and refuses to look at Alfred. Her silence only encourages Atlanna.

“Now, let us go back to the comment about Lyta being similar to Diana.” Atlanna beams.

“You’d make a mighty fine reporter, Lana. Have you considered it? Clarkie has contacts.” Martha means it. She’d completely forgotten about that well-placed slip of information from Alfred.

Hippolyta remains silent, and Alfred is unwilling to stoop to her level.

“I cherish your daughter, truly. She is one of my greatest friends. The time she deigned to spend with me, I am honoured.” He leans forward to reach out to her. Her hands are out of reach, so he dares to touch her knee lightly and platonically. “I have always known she was out of my league, but she has a way of making those around her better. Myself included. You have raised a fine woman. She is a wonder.”

The compliment mollifies Hippolyta, and she shares a look with Alfred. There is a secret between them that Atlanna and Martha are simply not privy to, but neither woman seems willing to pry further than they already have.

The Queen ticks her jaw, before glancing away. “My anger is… misplaced. I apologize, Alfred.”

Like an exhale, the apology brings ease to everyone . Alfred chooses not to push his luck, withdrawing his hand, and offers everyone tea. Martha hushes him, imploring him to sit and enjoy, but he cannot—he will not. To serve is not a duty, but a pleasure. He enjoys hosting, or assisting the host. While he joins Martha in the kitchen, Atlanna immediately leans into Hippolyta to question her on everything .

***

An abundance of food has been laid out across the kitchen table, half of it Martha’s and the other half Alfred’s.

“I see you made pie,” Martha says, evenly, as the kettle rests behind her. “Many pies, actually.”

The children would never dare to challenge her, but Alfred is another beast entirely. Their rivalry goes years back. It had started when Alfred’s car had broken down at the edge of the long dirt road leading up to the farm. Jonathan had helped repair it, and in the meantime, Martha had fed the children. Alfred insisted on repaying them, also with food. They taught each other new recipes—a beautiful back-and-forth with the same precision and determination of warriors. Martha’s food had been homey and filling; she managed to capture warmth in a single dish. In turn, Alfred educated her in striking each segment of the palate with a single bite, or three bites and a sip of perfectly paired wine.

Of course, Alfred would bring pie to the pie master’s home.

Martha circles the island, selecting not a pie, but a small fruit tart. (It counts as part of the pie family, she accepts no other verdict.) Her eyes narrow, watching her old friend with suspicion. She bites into it, and the crust crumbles with just the right amount of butter and airyness. My god, it was kneaded to perfection . Flavours burst across her tongue, both subtle and impactful. The sweetness level feels almost catered to her.

“Alfred, oh, Alfred,” she moans, unashamed. “This is Heaven.”

“Salted honey custard tart with a lavender syrup.”

“How do you even come up with these flavour combinations?”

“I thought of you. Of all the teas we’ve tried, your favourite is the honey lavender.”

“Green is my favourite,” Martha argues, but there is a slight hesitation in her voice.

“Green is your comfort, and it is accessible, but you light up when you have honey and lavender.”

And to think, some would dare to say that Alfred Pennyworth is just a man.

***

Treats are transferred to the coffee table, including trays of decadent cookies, tarts, slices of pie, cakes and mousses, along with finger sandwiches. Martha and Alfred return with two different teapots, and with laughter on their lips. This is what she had hoped for when she suggested they all meet.

“You sounded like you were having fun,” Atlanna smiles at Martha.

“Try Alfred’s desserts and you will know exactly what kind of fun I was having.” Martha serves her a warning look. Don’t start. There is nothing between her and Alfred. There never has been, and she doesn’t think there can be. He is family, and she cannot see him in any other way.

Atlanna reaches out and chooses a slice of mousse. She cuts into it with a grace and elegance that betrays her casualwear. “By the grace of Atlan.” It is so good! “Lyta. You must try something.”

Hippolyta has yet to unfold her arms, watching everyone carefully. She may have forgiven Alfred for his escapades with her daughter, but she is unwilling to break her firm composure. She is better than anything man’s world can offer.

“No,” she starts, but Atlanna is faster, popping a cream puff in her mouth. Forced to chew instead of choke, her nostrils flare as she swallows. Her face twists into a sneer, a deep frown of disdain on her beautiful unaging features. She hates this man and his stupid desserts; nothing he makes can compare to the delicacies of paradise. Anger bubbles within her, and then she exhales with a long sigh. It is the sound of defeat . “I see why… Diana,” she looks up at the ceiling, praying for the forgiveness of the goddesses. “I understand.”

Nobody moves. Nobody says anything. Did… Did Hippolyta admit she was wrong not once but twice?

Cackling shatters the silence. Atlanna laughs freely, a kind of yowl that is reminiscent of her eldest son and self-proclaimed wild child. Her mouth is full of chocolate, but there is no room for decorum when an ancient and mythical queen is being humbled by sweets. Martha joins in, her laughter a lot softer and muted. Alfred is content with looking smug from his chair, sipping tea with one leg over the over.

“The way to a warrior’s heart is through her stomach,” Atlanna snorts.

“I know,” Alfred agrees coolly. “Diana taught me that.”

“Enough!” Hippolyta complains, grabbing Atlanna’s copy of the book and tossing it on the free corner of the coffee table (carefully, so as not to disturb the desserts). “Let us discuss Evelyn and her seven husbands.” Her disgust is palpable. In the car, Atlanna had done nothing to prepare her for this meeting. “One would think after one man, Evelyn would change her tactics and have a taste of the feminine.”

“Erm,” Martha starts. “Who’s going to tell her?”

#my fics #dc comics #dc fanfic #ao3feed #aquafam #atlanna #superfam #martha kent #ma kent #batfam #batfamily #alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth x wonder woman #alfred pennyworth x diana prince #wonder woman #hippolyta #older characters #parental figures

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glow-in-the-dark-death · 4 months

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Cujo

"Cujo where in the world do you keep finding all these things?"

Danny looked down at a very proud looking Cujo who had recently returned from his trip.

On each trip he brought back things that he liked, lately Cujo was bringing back the most curious things.

From pillows and toys to weapons and weird clothing.

One time even bringing a golden lasso.

This time it seemed to be a sword and a jar filled with liquid with what he was pretty sure was a human organ.

"Cujo please don't take peoples organs, I don't want to get in trouble"

A sentence he never thought he would be saying,

What a day.

Alfred: "I seem to be missing my favourite pair of socks?"

Wonder Woman is questioning who was brave/stupid enough to steal her lasso from practically under her nose.

Damian: Father! Who took my weapons away, I haven't even been grounded!"

Lex Luthor: "Where's all the kryptonite I just bought?!"

Ra's: *squinting* "Something just happened."

Sorry this one is shorter than usual I'm in the middle of class.

Bye!

Just an Idea

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youcalledsworld · 1 year

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Looking for a Mother.

Danny Phantom had a problem. Actually he had two problems, both problems came from Vlad. No, one problem is Vlad and the other is caused by Vlad.

The first problem is how he could sentence Vlad to "death" in the most painful way that could last years. The second problem was how he could help his daughter who now only had her ghost half and was forced into her core because her human side couldn't keep her ghost half stable.

When he went to Frostbite he got a solution to his second problem. He just had to find a woman to carry Ellie to term so she can grow a new human half. Sadly, that created a third problem.

Frostbite told Danny that Sam or Valerie (who both loved Ellie and would do anything for her) or any other mortal woman wouldn't be able to handle the power coming from Ellie's core. So now Danny had to look for a woman who was willing enough to hold the responsibility bearing his child and strong enough to survive childbirth.

And with Danny's responsibility as King he couldn't just leave to look for a woman to bear his child. He also couldn't ask his court or allies to look for someone for him. Because they would either kidnap someone or to use this situation to make a move for more power.

The Justice League had a problem. They actually had two, one was Darkseid and the other was Brainiac. The League got an emergency from Oa asking for help against Brainiac. So the league sent some of its heaviest hitters, which include the Supers, Captain Marvel, the Green Lanterns, the Flash, Zatanna and other non powered leaguers for help.

So of course Darkseid used that as a distraction to invade earth. And the league was losing, so John Constantine came up with the plan to use the new Ghost King to deal with Darkseid.

The others were sceptical but John told them he was a good kid who would help for free if he could. Sadly, he couldn't because when summoned the summoner or those around him had to give something in return for his help. Which was usually food or space rocks.

So reluctantly they started the summoning with the sacrifice they decided to give (two home cooked meals from Martha Kent and Alfred Pennyworth). They all started to feel cold even Batman in his temperature regulated suit.

Wonder Woman shivered with he blade in hand ready to jump into action at anytime.

After the summoning was complete they asked the Ghost King to help them with Darkseid. They were about to give him the meals but surprisingly he asked them to hold it for now because he has something he would like to ask for. So he told all but Wonder Woman to leave the room because he has something to ask her that only she out of everyone here could help with.

#Danny Phantom #Wonder Woman #Danielle Phantom #Justice League #dp x dc #does wonder woman say yes?#john constantine #Batman #darkseid #brainiac #vlad plasmius #does wonder woman instead takes Danny to someone who could help #does she use this opportunity to link Danny Phantom to the Justice League and her people?#martha kents home cooked meals #alfred pennyworth home cooked meal #ghost king danny #Ghost King Danny Phantom #summoning #adult Danny Phantom

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pinkiemachine · 2 months

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Welcome! This is The Ultimate Guide to Pinkiemachine Studios on Tumblr ✨

Looking for the Pizza Saga? Here ya go! 👇

Looking for the Great Camera Caper? Here’s the first master post 👇

The Suite Life of Zack and Cody spoof? Right here 👇

The Wonder Mom series! 👇

Hero Swap 2 parter 👇

Wonder Woman: Heir to Olympus 👇

The Mighty Teen Titans 👇

The one with the cats 👇

This amazing poster that I did NOT draw! 👇

The DC x Phineas and Ferb crossover 👇

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ponyosfrogg · 10 months

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INBETWEEN (PT 3)

Summary: You wake up, completely under the effect of your dream about comic characters, just to find out a new character has been added to DCU? Or has she always been there?

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

Author's Note: Gosh, sorry for taking some time. This chapter was a pain in the ass, all i wanted was to write about sweet moments but god 😶‍🌫️ sorry about the typos, I'll fix them as soon as i can i promise, hope you like it my loves! thank you so much for the support! 💗

Warning: Some of the themes and contents written in this fic might be upsetting for some of the readers, read at your own risk. Some parts have strong language.

As you woke up with a throbbing pain in your head, you couldn't help but wonder if this would be a issue every time you tried to wake up normally. Frustrated, you cautiously opened your eyes, preparing for the brightness. The light made everything appear blurry, so you tried shading your eyes with your hands, but it didn't help much. Suddenly, a silhouette rushed towards you.

"You got me so worried! I can't believe you didn't took your medicine's today! I'm so angry at you" A slap out of worry hit your arm and made you more awake and more aware of your surroundings. You were in your house, with your best friend beside your bed. She must've taken you to your bed since the last thing you can recall was washing some dishes. The slippery and weird feeling in your hand was just proof. "And so glad that you're okay." Amber hugged your laying body with compassionate behavior.

You reposition yourself on the bed and lay your back on the bedstand now facing your best friend who was sitting next to you on your bed. You were in your room. Your real room.

"Are you okay? You're very quiet." With her voice you tried to collect your thoughts in one place. So you had a dream about comic characters? God, you must've been going through some shit because you rarely even dream. Maybe you were in need to feel some family support? Or you just read a lot of them last night.

"Yeah, I'm okay no worries. I just had the weirdest dream ever. I'm sorry about worrying you I'll be more careful about my medicine." but you were so sure that you took all of them today. Why would your heart react in such a way. You found yourself questioning yourself once again, falling into a familiar pattern of self-doubt and second-guessing.

"Oh I can't wait to hear about it but first i have to tell you something." She must've done something she thought was necessary but not necessarily the best idea. "I called Nate." Yes, just as you guessed. Amber must've seen the shift in your reaction and started to get panicky. "Don't blame me! I got so worried and waited for one hour but you didn't wake up so i had to call him, i didn't know what to do. he said he's on his way to come here now. Could be here any moment now." She got up from the bed and started to walk around the room in a panicking way.

But you weren't focusing on her anymore, just hearing Nate's name made your heart flutter a little bit. He was your ex. You had been inseparable from your childhood and at some point it turned into a beautiful relationship. Nate was an ambitious student who wanted to have nothing more than a wife and a job. You on the other hand, you like the possibilities life could offer you. You never had something on your mind you were just going around wherever life takes you. Spontaneous trips to places you'd like to visit, working freelance and getting paid whenever you're in need of some money, reading books and comics whenever you're free. You were a kind of woman who would post something dumb on an afternoon during weekdays which would make all of your working friends question your sanity. So it's safe to say that you guys were completely opposites.

And whoever said opposites attract, they were wrong as fuck. You needed someone to think like you. It was hard to maintain the relationship when both of your needs were completely opposite, beside your characters. You guys broke up two months ago or something like that. you weren't keeping the count.

Although it was hard to not to think about him, you always thought you made the right decision about him. You wouldn't want to keep him from living his life, and you wouldn't want him to keep you from living your life either. It was the right decision. But why were you feeling nauseous right now?

"It's okay, we were going to see each other at some point anyway." You tried to smile in a relaxing way and you must have been successful since she gave you another big hug. She was one of the kindest soul you had a chance to meet on this earth. She had beautiful ginger curly hair with a lot of freckles on her face. She had this beautiful smile that made your day better whenever you saw her. She was just the most adorable person you could ever hope for and you were glad she was your friend, your best friend to be exact.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone and give you some privacy for you to change your clothes." You rolled your eyes at her words. Yeah, you took back whatever you said about her, she was devious. "I'm not going to all doll-up for Nate, Amber." She giggled at the annoyance at your voice while she was leaving the room.

You looked around your room. How could something feel so familiar yet so strange. You felt an unexplainable feeling on your chest. It wasn't about your heart, something was different. Maybe the dream affected you more than you could admit.

As you gazed around, your attention was suddenly drawn to the batfamily poster hanging on the wall behind your desk. It was an old favorite, something you had put up about three years ago. It included all of the batfamily members. Yet, this time, there was something different about it, or rather, someone.

You rushed to get a closer look, your eyes widening in surprise. Among the familiar faces of Bruce, Jason, Dick, and Damian, there was a new addition—a girl standing beside Damian. Who was she? And why the fuck she looked like you.

"Amber?" You yelled from your room, hoping her to hear. Her voice echoed back a response, and you called out again, "What did you do to my poster?"

You heard her quick footsteps and then Amber entered your room, her expression showing annoyance at being summoned. She glanced at the poster you were holding in your hand. "It looks perfectly normal to me. I didn't touch it."

You rolled your eyes, feeling annoyed more and a bit frustrated. "I mean, who's the new character next to Damian?"

Amber looked at you as if you had said the most absurd thing you could ever say. "Are you serious right now? Is this supposed to be some kind of joke? Listen, i need to go out. I know that you're kind of excited and anxious to meet Nate and you don't want to be alone but i have to go." You turned around and saw she already dressed up. You were speechless.

"Wait, what? Are you going out? Are you going to leave me alone with Nate and excuse me but what the fuck is happening right now! Who is this girl."

She didn't say anything and left the room, leaving you without any further explanation.

You reached over your laptop and opened it. Yes, something weird was going on and you were determined to find it and what would be a better way than google. You pull your soft, white chair and sit on it while you are waiting for your laptop to be open. When it got open, you typed the batfamily and searched for it.

After like three minutes, you saw the name Viperia, even though you read a lot of comics and familiar with almost every character at that point you've never heard of her so you typed 'Viperia' on a different tab. To your surprise, there were numerous posts and messages about this character. She appeared at the same time as Damian in comics. She was snarky, cocky and definitely a pain in the ass but somehow she literally had her own fan-base. You saw a lot of websites made in the honor of her, a lot of fanarts and literally thousands of fan fiction. But how come you've never heard about her and why did she literally look like you.

"Yeah, this must be a fucking dream."

When you heard a knock from the door, you remembered you were expecting Nate. Fuck, you already have forgotten about him coming. You pulled yourself together and promised to check this after you're done with Nate. Right now you have to focus on him.

You must have been so lost on your research, you didn't realize Amber already left the house. You opened the door and you saw Nate's bright face.

Seeing him make a lot of emotions rushing to you. There was longing in your heart, you were longing for his presence. There was some kind of disappointment. You were disappointed in him, he could've made this thing go further but he didn't. He chose to give up on you and you chose to give up on your relationship.

When you break up with someone, seeing them changing does have an effect on you. You expect them to be the same but you don't realize people tend to change every now and then, especially after going through a painful break-up. You felt sad but you felt you didn't have any right to be sad, after you were the who cut the cords of that relationship. You chose your path to leave him. It was painful for you but you knew that if you didn't, it would be more painful in the future. But somehow right that moment you were looking at a completely different guy. He had a bright smile on his face just like he always does but somehow it was different, it was full of confidence. His eyes were shining like two little stars. He was radiating some kind of sunshine energy that you became addicted once. And seeing him make all of these things rush through your mind.

He had a white shirt on him, which made him look very... professional? But in a pretty way. His partly long hair was slicked back nicely. You can see his newly grow beard that he probably is going to shave tomorrow morning. Even though he looked almost the same as two months ago you realized he changed, he's much better now. He's better off without you or maybe you were just that lonely who was considering going back to her ex just because you hated being alone or a narcissist who thinks everyone is in love with her.

"Hello." His stern voice made you startled since you were, once again, wandering on your mind. "Hello, how rude I am. Come in." you stepped backwards for him to enter the house. He was looking around when you closed the wooden door and turned at him.

"You guys made some changes on this apartment huh? It looks prettier." You smile at the compliment. Always too nice.

"Yes, it was time to get rid of some old stuff." Then you realized this was not an appropriate sentence to say since it's only been two months after the break up.

You cleaned your throat and talked again: "Take a seat I'll prepare us some coffee." When you were rushing to the kitchen, you heard his footsteps right behind you. "You never really learn do you? I'm literally here for your heart and you are offering me coffee? Way to go." You laughed at his point.

It was nice to be around him. He had such a charm that could make you feel comfortable all the time. There wasn't any awkward silence around him. It was always joyful, happy and full of smiles. He was like a home for you once. Now he was just a stranger you perfectly know.

"Well, old habits die hard." At that point you literally wanted to punch yourself on your face. There were millions of words in English and somehow you always chose the one that made you sound like a heartless person.

When you were preparing the coffee he sat on a chair beside the window. It was raining again. There was no lightning or storm but just plain rain. It was the fourth day today and the weird thing is, it was middle of the fucking summer, July to be exact.

"So, your heart?" When you put on his mug, (which was adorable by the way. It was dark red with little white hearts on it.) on the little coffee table in front of him. You sat right in front of him. "Yes, I think Amber is overreacting. I'm perfectly fine." He looked at you with his brown eyes, completely scanning your body. It's like, he was trying to find evidence of you being okay. But in reality he was actually thinking about how much he missed you. He missed being around you, your presence, your voice, your scent and everything about you. He missed hearing your stupid theories about comics, he missed talking about ordinary stuff under the stars on a hill that he would take you every saturday, he missed you making him laugh so hard that he would cry, he missed you. Simply you, being you.

"Still, i think you should come to the hospital and let me examine you over there since I didn't bring a lot of stuff." You nod, perfectly aware of the fact that you simply wouldn't do something like that. You knew something was different. You experienced a lot of seizures like that and it was different and since you already took your medicine, you wouldn't bother to go again. If there's something, that would mean more medicine. But you were sure that was not the case.

Your mind went to Damian's sister again. How could this be possible. She looked exactly like you and you were wondering how she can appear on your poster. It was there for three years now and you would've noticed at some point right? Viperia... Even the name sounds so made up, you still were trying to convince yourself that you actually imagined that person. But then again, Amber said she's been there for some time. Maybe she also hallucinated.

You tried to pull your attention back on the guy sitting in front of you. Viperia was the future you problem, right now you had Nate in front of you.

"You look tired." When he stated the obvious fact you simply smiled. "Yes, it's been a long day." More like two days in one. "And I'm kind of anxious maybe that's why."

He directly looked into your eyes with such a compassionate look. If he could make your pain go away, he would in a heartbeat. It was so weird to part your ways even though you love that person. But growing up meant realizing it's important have someone who has the same mindset as you and about that, you guys were not the best. 'Love can start something but it wouldn't make something keep going.' Your mother used to say this sentence a lot whenever she and your dad argued.

He reached over your hand that was on uour your lap. When he touched you, you could feel the vibrations going around your body. It was dumb to think that you were over him but when it's you, you can never be sure and you knew that all to well.

"You know that I'm here right? It doesn't matter what time is it, if you call, I'll come." He said almost whispering. His hand traces its way through your face. Cupping one of your cheeks. No, that wasn't good. You could feel that every cell of yours longing for him but that wasn't a good idea.

"I think you should go."

He looked at you for five seconds with a disappointed look on his face. He could tell that you were uncomfortable and he didn't want to keep doing whatever he was doing. Then he take his hand off your face and stood up. "Yes, I think I should go. Thank you for the coffee. I think tomorrow morning you should visit the hospital just in case." You nodded and said 'thank you' while he was taking his stuff and going to door.

"Goodnight." He was the one who smiled as an answer this time.

As soon as you closed the door, you released the breath you didn't even you were holding until that point.

You went into your room after sitting back of the door for some time, collecting your thoughts about Nate. You needed something to take your mind off from Nate and you decided to keep researching about Viperia.

Two hours later, your mind was almost going to explode from all the information you found about her.

She was the sixth child of Batman, not a sister but twin of Damian. Raised by Bruce but also Talia too. Her name was the same as yours but she was using Viperia as an alias, which was a venomous snake. She was skilled at martial arts and she was a great assassin, maybe even better than Damian. She was quite popular with her rage and snarky comments just like Damian. She was getting along with almost every family member except Tim and you didn't find anything relating to that topic. On some fandom base sites, there were a lot of theories about them dating secretly 'why else they wouldn't even once mention about her relationship with Tim' they wrote. 'Tim never even refers to her as his sister.' You searched so deep that you even had came across a smut writing between her and Alfred which made you a little bit of uncomfortable and also scared.

You started to think how could you miss this character or did she literally appear out to nowhere in three hours?

The creator was releasing new chapters on that comic series in every two weeks. 'Batman's Daughter' was the title. It was covering the whole background starting from the birth which was crazy but useful also, since you learned that Talia literally put her in Lazarus Pit whenever she had some kind of blade cuts on the age of fucking three. No wonder that girl was total nuts but of course fun to read.

When you were doing your research your laptop's notification sound made you startled. Maybe you didn't have any resemblance with her since she could literally murder without even flinching and you were, well, getting startled from a notification sound.

It was an e-mail.

You took your laptop and stood up from the chair you've been sitting for some time now. Since you also started to get sleepy it was a good idea to going to your bed and read your mail over there.

You sat on your soft green colored sheets and opened your mail, you didn't know the person who sent you the mail. There was literally no name or anything. Just an attachment and a word on the subject part which was 'read :)'

You clicked on the attachment, even though you knew you shouldn't since it was a mail from someone unknown and you might even download a fucking virus on your laptop but however something inside of you was couraging you to open it.

It was a comic on a pdf format but it was more like a work in progress. Some parts were still empty.

The Doom of Batfamily?

That was enough for your curiosity to take over, so you started reading.

It was starting with Bruce talking with his family about some unusual murders on the city. He was suspecting someone from the League of Assassins since the murder weapon was a sword. But turns out it was Viperia who is getting more and more insane everyday because of the Lazarus pit. But it didn't even stop there, she was getting involved with some villains to trap her family one by one and killing them all, she was thinking they were on her way.

You were horrified. It was very graphical and the sketches literally showed everything explicitly. In the end, she was literally standing on all of their dead bodies, laughing histerically.

You close the laptop immediately and closed your eyes, trying once again to collect your thoughts. Everything seemed so messy right now and you didn't know what to do. Why Viperia appeared out of nowhere, Who was the sender of the mail, why is she killing all of her family, what the fuck is going on.

"Fuck, no."

Without resisting more, you give yourself in the sweet arms of sleep. You could try to solve that problem tomorrow, you needed some sleep now.

After like two minutes of sleeping you opened your eyes involuntarily since, well, you only closed them for two minutes.

"It took you long enough."

With this voice, you got scared again.

"I didn't know you like sleeping this much it's literally noon time now, wake up so we can go to my favorite cafe to have some breakfast and then feed the ducks."

You watched him in horror.

"Hey, haven't you missed your beloved brother?"

"Damian?"

#batfamily #batfamily fic #batman #bruce wayne #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #fan fiction #dick grayson x y/n #inbetween #jason todd x reader #jason todd #bart allen #barry allen #wonder woman #aquaman #alfred pennyworth #the flash

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fragmentsofmyfixation · 1 year

Text

The Bat vs the Tide

Pairing: Bruce Wayne X Arthur Curry

Word Count: 7,394

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Minor Violence, Explicit Language

Summary: Arthur had never before been so completely enamored with a person the way he was with Bruce. He’d only seen him donning the cowl, never actually seeing his face. When the cowl was off, Arthur realized he would do anything to make Bruce, this beautiful man, his. Well, until the arrogant ass opened his mouth.

It wasn’t that Arthur had never noticed Bruce’s looks. Quite the opposite actually, he was stunned into silence when his eyes first landed on the billionaire. He had only ever seen him in his full Batman regalia, but this man was different. Greyish blue eyes, slicked back pepper hair, and a suit that complimented every muscle and curve on his body.

Oh, he was gorgeous.

How do I make him mine?

How can a man with such a brooding disposition look so beautiful?

How would he look when wet, 8,000 feet below the surface, under me, panting, cheeks flushed.

He would make this man his.

He wasn’t disillusioned into thinking Bruce would up and leave Gotham. He was Batman for fucks sake. But they’d make it work, anything to have a claim on this man and make Bruce his.

It was decided. Arthur had never been anything but straightforward about his advances, whether they were appropriate or not, and he would make them known. Bruce’s depthless blue eyes, not dissimilar to the very ocean Arthur ruled over, brimmed with cold intelligence that left the King of Atlantis tongue tied.

Fuck, he wanted this man.

Smitten was hardly a word he ever thought he’d use to describe himself but it seemed relevant in this circumstance. Until the arrogant bastard opened his mouth and any hope of his attraction becoming something more vanished. He was arguing with Clark, which was nothing new, he and the big blue fought on a daily basis.

“We should be prioritizing fixing our mistakes from the last battle instead of throwing a party for people who clearly don’t deserve it,” Bruce argued.

“I’ll admit that some things could have been handled better, but we’re a new team and I think we did great for one of our first battles!” Clark countered. Bruce rolled his eyes and muttered something along the lines of “optimistic idiot.” Not a wrong accusation, but still all the more hurtful.

The rest of the league members began to look up, noticing the commotion.

“You call that shit show ‘great’ Clark?”

Clark opened his mouth the speak but Bruce interrupted him before he could. “The collateral damage alone caused between both you and Diana was enough to demolish a city block! Barry diverted from the plan completely, Hal failed to reach the civilians at a reasonable speed which is really fucking odd considering they both can fly-“

Arthur rolled his eyes, tuning him out before he was tempted to take himself out of his misery by stabbing himself with his own trident. Bruce, being Bruce, and the observant compulsive perfectionist he is, noticed and took it as his cue to lay into Arthur.

Face stoic yet brimming with fury and finger pointing accusingly at him, “And don’t even get me started on you. I understand you spend most of your time underwater these days so maybe this thought hadn’t occurred to you, and feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure summoning a wave of water in a high metropolitan area with electric lines is an idiotic move.”

By this point, Bruce was standing in his personal space, face snarky and irritated as could be. Any budding feelings were stomped on by this arrogant ass of a human being that somehow felt like it was his place to dish out criticisms. Arthur didn’t look down on humans, considering he was half human and grew up amongst them, but something about someone with no powers mind you, taunting him, made his chest tighten and stomach coil, an unknown feeling unfurling in his heart. Anger?

“Bruce..” Clark warned.

Bruce immediately interrupted him. “No I’m genuinely curious, is common sense a concept that’s just nonexistent underwater? Or are you just especially moronic and I’m being punished by some supreme deity by having to deal with you.”

His blood was pumping, fingertips eager to reach out and destroy the asshole daring to talk to him like this. Arthur hadn’t felt this furious since a drunk sailor had bad mouthed his father. The sailor ended up losing the majority of his teeth and it seemed as if Bruce was asking for the same treatment. Before he knew it, a fist had lunged at Bruce. Bruce being the experienced martial artist he dodged it efficiently and countered with one of his own before Clark intercepted it.

“Enough!” Diana’s commanding voice boomed throughout the room, brokering no room for argument.

Bruce gave them all one last venomous look and stormed out the room without a word.

Things had been stilted for some until Diana went to go see him. He didn’t apologize, and neither did Arthur. A singular glance during the next meeting in not exactly an apologetic fashion, more of an acknowledgement for a truce, had Arthur nodding his head slightly agreeing and that was the end of that.

It is because of this memory, that Arthur realized he shouldn’t be shocked by Bruce’s beauty. It was a league bonding day, something made mandatory by Diana and Clark, much to Bruce’s dismay. They coincidentally decided on a beach day this time, citing the reason being for practicalities sake of the ocean being in the middle of everyone’s respected territories and private, Diana renting it out for the day. Arthur didn’t question it, especially with it making it easier for him to attend. He agreed to the day expecting mild forms of amusement such as Hal and Barry making fools of themselves, Diana and Clark’s not so subtle flirting, and the rest of the league members awkwardly mingling until they got drunk.

What he had not accounted for was Batman—Bruce the overbearing bastard, to come out the water looking like he was born in it. Droplets gliding over his multitude of scars down to his sculpted Adonis belt, eyes blue enough for him to believe the ocean was reflecting off of him, thick thighs that could suffocate him.

Arthur regained his bearings quickly. He didn’t care much about what the other league members thought of him or who they knew he was attracted to, but the last thing he wanted was give Bruce the satisfaction of catching him off guard. No matter how beautiful he was.

So yes, Bruce was a very attractive man.

A part of him had learned to respect Bruce, regardless of his shitty attitude, even Arthur had to admit he was an excellent leader, quick as a whip, and even had a sense of humor at times, a bit morbid if you asked him, but a sense of humor nonetheless.

He was conversing with Clark and Diana, the only league members bold (crazy) enough to strike up a conversation with him. In typical Bruce fashion he brushed them off with a withering look and went to sit under the umbrellas, opening a book and beginning to read. His legs moved on his own volition, and before he could think about the possible outcomes of his actions, he strode towards Bruce.

“Is this seat taken,” asked Arthur.

Bruce leveled him with an aggrieved look, that was half hidden by his sunglasses and said nothing. Arthur took that as a “yes”, pulled out the chair, and sat down. They sat in silence, neither of them being fans of unnecessary small talk. Arthur still doesn’t know what possessed him to come sit by Bruce. Sure the guy was hot, but if that was truly the only reason Arthur had sought out his company, it wouldn’t make much sense. Arthur had the advantage of both land and see to find someone just as attractive and ten times more amenable.

Arthur spared a glance at Bruce, not being subtle at all and not necessarily trying to be. He huffed out a laugh.

“What,” Bruce snapped, not looking up from his book.

“It’s just,” Arthur gasped out in between huffs of laughter. “You literally look like a drowned bat.”

Bruce for whatever reason didn’t towel himself off. Water stuck to his pale skin and his dark hair, truly giving off a bat look.

Bruce, seemingly nonplussed, told him to fuck off making Arthur laugh even louder at the furiously indignant tone.

“I’m sorry Bats, I just can’t help myself.”

“Lack of self control,“ Bruce tutted under his breath, “What's new.” Bruce cringed internally, thinking of the last time he had those thoughts. He had become a lot more comfortable around the Justice League ever since Clark’s resurrection, but he was still wary of them losing control of his powers. Another brooding thought for another day Bruce supposes.

Arthur could clearly see this becoming a negative altercation and for whatever reason he wanted to divert this from taking such a path. He doesn’t know why he wants this conversation—if it can even be called that— with Bruce to last, he’s never turned down a challenge before.

Perhaps it was the joyful atmosphere. They each hardly got chances to hang out with our super powered individuals and be so free with their own powers. Maybe the peace was infectious and cooled his normally hot headed responses.

Bruce gave him another strange look, apparently surprised that his comment didn’t get much of a response. Arthur noticed the bags under his eyes, and how pale his skin looked.

“You look like a vampire Bats, you truly have this whole moody gothic supernatural thing going on about you. You really are a creature of the night,” Arthur laughed to himself.

Arthur didn’t think he’d get a response, and was pleasantly surprised when he did.

“I’m just not used to this much sun. Gotham’s usually more dark, besides, I work inside all day so I don’t see much sun regardless, and then I go out as Batman at night. I’ve been dealing with this frustrating case that’s kept me up for days on end, and the day I finally decide to take a break, is the day where the wonder twins decide to make it a team bonding day,” Bruce sneered, eyes finally making contact with Arthur. “So yes Arthur, I’m irritated.”

Arthur suddenly felt a pang of sympathy. If he was in Batsy’s shoes he probably would’ve ditched, consequences be damned. Bruce was his own man. Despite whatever threats Diana would make or sad pleas Clark showered him with, if Bruce truly didn’t care about the league he wouldn’t have shown up. Meaning that he chose to come because he wanted to be supportive, on his day off nonetheless. Arthur wouldn’t have been as kind if it was him.

Bruce had turned back to his book without another word as Arthur considered this. It was only then that he noticed what Bruce was actually reading.

Marine Plants: Biodiversity, Toxins, and Environmental Assessment

“What do you want to know about marine plants?” Arthur inquired dubiously.

Bruce seemed to consider whether it was worth it to ignore Arthur and deal with his constant badgering or just simply tell the truth. After some wavering and a few huffed curses under his breath, Bruce chose the latter.

“Poison Ivy has created a new type of algae, one capable of mind controlling an entire city’s worth of people and putting them under the same delusion. She plans to replace it with Gotham’s produce, and because it looks a hell of a lot similar to greens like spinach and kale, no one would notice. I’m trying to find algae that has a similar effect, so I can extract it, and make an antidote,” Bruce contemplated his next thought before continuing, “I can’t rule out the possibility that she’s already tested it on a small group of people to see if it works. I already know when and where she’s going to release it, but I still need her test group so I can isolate the effects.”

That had been the longest time Arthur had ever heard Bruce talk. But wait hold on—

“Why the hell didn’t you ask me for help? I’m literally the King of Atlantis. I could’ve asked Mera to pull books from our archives, which would have much better information than a book from some marine biologist that doesn’t know jack shit about the sea.”

Bruce had the forthright to suddenly turn sheepish, well sheepish for Bruce at least.

“I didn’t think after our last,” he pondered his choice of words “Disagreement, you would be inclined to help me,” he said, voice soft, eyes suddenly downcast, looking anywhere but him.

Bruce had absolutely no right looking like that.

Not much has changed about Bruce’s outer appearance, he still looked like a tired, drowned bat. But the hardness and weariness that always seemed to engulf him had disappeared and what was left was this gorgeous man who’s softness made him look good enough to eat.

All the feelings he had felt when his eyes first landed on Bruce rushed to the surface. He wanted to be with this man. Walk with him, side by side. Fuck him, and drown him in pleasure. Treasure him, so he never had to doubt before asking for help again. Arthur didn’t voice any of these thoughts, knowing they’d be rebuffed at this point in time. Instead, he calmed himself down and spoke.

“Well, consider me on board Batsy.”

Bruce was back to gruff grunts and hard edges. That was fine. Arthur would help him anyway. Even if his feelings weren’t a motivator in this, having someone as skilled as Batman needing his help was always a confidence booster. Besides, this meant Batman would be more likely to do a favor for him in the future. Bruce gave him the run down of the situation and they began discussing a plan of action.

They later found a patch of moss that had a similar biological breakdown to Poison Ivy’s plant. Bruce had told him that he didn’t need his help anymore but Arthur insisted on staying till the case was closed, citing that he always does things from start to finish and Bruce should understand the feeling. He also wanted to stay close to Bruce to confirm that this feeling his gut was trying to tell him is really what he thought it was.

Bruce conceded with minimal arguments which Arthur counted as a win. While science wasn’t exactly his forte, he was able to assist with making the antidote that would neutralize any effects of the plant. Arthur had taken this chance to be near Bruce and have excuses to touch him. He didn’t violate the man’s personal space, knowing that would get him nowhere. He did however take advantage of their close proximity. Whenever he passed the occasional microscope slide to Bruce he made sure their fingers touched just the slightest bit.

Whenever he had trouble operating the microscope, he stood just a bit closer to Bruce than what was appropriate as Bruce explained how it worked. If Bruce noticed, which he probably did because it’s Bruce, he didn’t say anything. They finally perfected the antidote and found Ivy’s test subjects, administering it just before it could the plant could take permanent effect. Arthur even ended up assisting in the takedown of Ivy and helped with the cleanup.

It was 4 am, all cleanup had been done and the sun was going to rise soon.

“Thanks for the help Aquaman.”

Arthur smiled, “No problem Batsy, call if you ever need help again.”

Arthur turned around, making his way home when Bruce called out for him. He turned around in confusion, mentally checking to see if he forgot anything. Bruce seemed to struggle with his next words, a look of conflicting emotions passing through his eyes before it was gone.

“Sorry about what I said,” he breathed out. “The last time we fought I mean. You were an idiot and I stand by that, however my delivery could have been better.”

Arthur laughed. “Don’t sweat it Batsy, I’m sorry too.”

With that last apology, Bruce left.

Arthur shook his head in amusement, mind made up. He returned to this sea, planning his next course of action.

�� ______________

When Bruce came home after a long day of meetings and phone calls, he expected to mechanically eat whatever Alfred had prepared for him, and get ready for an even longer night of dealing with Gotham’s most vile scum. What he hadn’t expected, was to find Arthur of all people standing in kitchen chatting it up with Alfred about…salmon recipes?

“I didn’t think the King of Atlantis would eat his subjects,” Bruce finally intervened, too fed up with the weirdness of whatever this was.

Alfred sighed in exasperation. “Master Bruce! Truly I don’t know where you learned this flagrant lack of regard for guests.”

“Unwanted guests,” Bruce emphasized sardonically.

Arthur laughed, finding this whole ordeal amusing. Bruce hated how he was becoming fond of the sound.

“I’m sure you know this, considering you undoubtedly have a file of everyone in the league with details from their blood type to which side of the bed they sleep on, but I’ll tell you again.” Arthur wiped a stray tear caused from his earlier laughing fit. “I grew up as a human in a lighthouse, my father was a fisherman and guess what. When you grow up in an area with only water in sight, you eat fish. Besides, if everyone stopped eating fish the ocean would be overpopulated. Truly Batsy, I would’ve thought you’d come to that conclusion already.”

Arthur laughed. “Maybe I’m overestimating your intelligence. Anyway, Batsy does that answer your question?” Arthur goaded.

Alfred scoffed in amusement, seeming to enjoy Bruce being told off. If Bruce could fire Alfred he would. He’s tried many times in his youth, with the only result being Alfred just patting him on the head calling him “adorable.” Alfred was truly a menace. And yes, Bruce knew deep down he would never fire Alfred, firstly because it just wasn’t possible, and aside from the fact he was his father figure, Bruce quite literally couldn’t function without Alfred.

“Yes I’ve drawn my own conclusions, I’m just confirming them is all.”

“Well now that that’s been established,” Arthur turned to Alfred. “Is this all you need?” Arthur motioned to the porch.

Bruce's eyes swiveled over to his porch and was shocked to find an entire net worth of fish.

“What is this for?” Bruce asked.

“If you would check your phone and the multitude of unopened emails that are sent to you, you’d know we are holding a gala tomorrow night at Wayne Manor. The food vendors have notified us that due to the lack of fish, they would be unable to complete the scheduled menu. Mister Arthur volunteered to bring us fresh fish from across the ocean. Truly Master Bruce, your ungratefulness knows no bounds.”

Arthur appeared to have a permanent smile plastered on his face, having never seen the great Batman admonished in such a way. Bruce let Arthur have his moment and turned to Alfred.

Bruce’s glare was frigid, Alfred however stayed unmoved. “Well now it feels like I have to keep my ungrateful streak since it ‘knows no bounds’.”

Alfred sighed in defeat and left the room. Bruce turned his attention back to Arthur. “Despite what Alfred thinks, I am grateful. I just don’t understand why you did this. Is this a league thing? Are you trying to make me indebted to you?”

Bruce hadn’t pegged Arthur to have any malicious intent, but Bruce knew from experience you could never be too sure.

“Wow Batsy, you’re paranoid. I heard you needed help and offered it. Don’t think too much.”

Arthur made his exit, slightly brushing his arm against Bruce’s as he walked by. That’s another thing, Arthur had been touching Bruce a lot more. It wasn’t anything outrageous and it didn’t make him uncomfortable, it was just strange. Bruce filed this encounter away for later inspection. He couldn’t make any hypothesis or come to any conclusions without further review. He just hoped Arthur wouldn’t make a habit out of coming to his house. Alfred seems to like him, insisting that Bruce needed more friends. His exact words were: Well more implies you had any to begin with so let me rephrase, you need a friend.

Bruce didn’t need friends.

But he begrudgingly accepted he’d be seeing a lot more of Arthur since Alfred likes him and if Alfred likes him, Arthur practically has a key to the lake house.

Bruce was annoyed.

His late night had spilled into early morning after dealing with Joker and Harley. He barely had time to write his report before he had to get dressed for a meeting with his board of directors at Wayne Enterprises. It had been a tedious affair, each board member trying to overrule Bruce and look down on him from their self made thrones. Bruce shut them down of course, but it wasn’t without cost. His head was killing him and it was only one in the afternoon, meaning he had a long day left. Bruce was rubbing his aching temples in wariness when his office line rung.

He summoned his Brucie persona, which had grown quite tame in the last few years, he wasn’t twenty anymore after all.

“Yes Janet.” Her name was Julie. Brucie couldn’t be as vacuous and idiotic as he was in his twenties, but he still needed to be superficial and arrogant.

“It’s Julie, Mr. Wayne. And you have a visitor requesting to see you. His name is Arthur Curry. Should I send him up?”

Bruce internally sighed in resignation, knowing resisting would only make his day worse. “Let him in. Thanks Jackie.”

A few seconds later, his door was opened, revealing a jubilant looking Arthur with take out boxes in his hand. Bruce’s frigid glare did nothing to deter him from placing the take out on his table and making himself at home in Bruce’s office chairs. Arthur looked around, taking the city view in from Bruce’s wall sized windows. Bruce said nothing as he waited for Arthur to explain why he was here.

Arthur, either not noticing his glare, or just choosing not to comment on it began to open the containers. He opened a beer bottle and gulped half of it down.

“I was in the neighborhood and wanted some lunch. Is Italian food alright with you?” Arthur inquired.

Bruce didn’t understand this, he didn’t understand this at all.

“Why are you here?”

Arthur looked at Bruce as if he was the abnormal one. “To eat lunch with you.”

“Why?” Bruce questioned, starting to lose his patience.

“Wow Bats, way to make a man feel like an interloper.”

“Maybe you feel like an interloper, because you’re interloping. And don’t call me that here.”

Arthur took a bite of ravioli. Bruce’s stomach grumbled at the site. It looked delicious.

“Sorry Bruce, I just figured someone as paranoid as you would soundproof your office.”

“It is soundproofed, but you can never be too careful.”

Arthur rolled his eyes at Bruce’s paranoia. In Bruce’s opinion, anyone who hasn’t lived in Gotham for more than a year had no right to call him paranoid.

“Seriously Bruce relax, you’re on break anyway.”

Bruce quickly went from irritated to angry. “No I will not relax,” Bruce groused. “You’re right, I am on break. This will probably be my only break for the rest of the day and I have to spend it lecturing you on how not to act like an idiot for sixty seconds.”

Arthur’s smile slowly began to fall.

Good.

“You’re just like Diana and Clark, always trying to butt in, without realizing how they’re imposing their unwanted time and company on others who don’t want it,” Bruce said sardonically.

Arthur looked slightly chagrined, a look Bruce was beginning to realize made his chest constrict. He stood slowly.

“You’re right Bruce. I’ll see myself out.”

Arthur left, leaving Bruce feeling like an ass but what else was new. Bruce eyed all the food left on his desk. He was on a strict diet, and normally would stick to lean meats, vegetables, and green protein shakes but since Arthur came all the way here and brought it for him….

The food tasted just as amazing as it smelt. Bruce was almost done when he noticed a note on one of the containers.

Something tells me someone as bitter as you would enjoy something sweet. Enjoy the dessert Bruce

Bruce opened the container and was met with 4 beautifully presented cannolis. Bruce already had indulged himself during lunch, he really should toss these or give them to his assistant. Bruce caved and tried one, melting at the sweet creamy mixture coating his tongue.

Arthur was right, Bruce really did have a sweet tooth.

He almost never indulged himself though, knowing he had to keep his body in top condition to continue being Batman. Bruce finished another cannoli and had to physically stop himself from eating more and returned to his work.

It wasn’t until he got home after a tiring night of patrol that he realized the second half of his day went by much faster than usual.

The next few weeks were filled with small surprises. By now, Bruce understood what Arthur was trying to do. What he didn’t understand was why.

Why would he want Bruce of all people? While Bruce wasn’t old, at his age of 40, and maintained a good appearance, he could tell his body isn’t exactly what it used to be. Arthur was still so vibrant and fit, what could he possible find attractive about Bruce that he couldn’t find anywhere else.

The gifts - if they can even be called that- started off small. A breakfast delivery he didn’t order arrived at his desk. The meals were small, heavy on the vegetables and carbs, with lean meats and other proteins. Much different than what was provided on their failed lunch date. Bruce wondered if Arthur had been talking to Alfred and even took the liberty of asking him. Alfred had admitted he occasionally talked to Arthur and when Bruce asked if they talked about him, all he got was a: Not everything is about you Master Bruce, don’t be so narcissistic

It didn’t stop at just meals. Notes were sometimes left in his office. Nothing overly poetic but still thoughtful.

Remember to eat today

Did you know the ocean is blue because it’s constantly reflecting the sky

Mera’s ignoring me because I skipped a meeting to go out drinking yesterday

I threw beer at some guys face and started a bar fight

I walked in on my Mom and Pop having sex. I’m not sure whether to be glad both my parents are getting some or be sick because both of my parents are getting some

“Sometimes you have to do what’s right even if your heart aches against it” is what Mera told me during my expedition to be king. Maybe I’m just a hedonist but I abhor that way of thinking

Bruce savored these notes. He told himself it was to have more information on Arthur. The excuse was pitiful, even to Bruce’s own ears.

At the next Justice League meeting, Bruce gave Arthur a look.

Meet me at the lake house after this.

Arthur inclined his head slightly, signaling Bruce that he understood.

When Bruce got home, he showered and changed quickly, knowing Arthur wasn’t far behind him. What had Bruce’s life come to? After years of feeling off balance, he finally felt somewhat secure, well, as secure as Batman and Bruce Wayne could feel. Superman had been brought back, the league was successful and thriving, Bruce had a relatively normal sleeping schedule, well, as regular as Batman’s sleeping schedule could get, and then Arthur in all his Atlantean glory comes in and throws Bruce off kilter.

Just a few weeks ago for example, Bruce had always been alert and focused during missions. His years of experience had taught him distractions were just as deadly as fear toxins and any other shit that Gotham’s thrown at him over the years.

They were on a team mission, where all the lights had been shut off during a power outage. Bruce’s cowl had night vision and the rest of the league had their own abilities that helped them see in the dark. The most noticeable however, was Arthur. His once inhumanly bright blue eyes were now an inhumanly golden amber, glowing like the sun.

“To help see in the dark” Arthur explained at Bruce’s curious stare.

Bruce had been mortified to be caught staring and was restless for the entire rest of the mission. Bruce needed to put a stop to this.

He hated feeling this out of control and cursed himself for falling for Arthur. Bruce hoped at first that his feelings for Arthur were just lust, he would’ve welcomed that. While having sex wouldn’t be ideal in terms of professionalism, working off some steam wouldn’t be hurting anyone. Contrary to what his reputation might hint at, Bruce hasn’t had sex in over a year. If he could just fuck out his frustration, he would. But he knew it wouldn’t help, aside from giving him fleeting relief.

Bruce thought of his next course of action when someone knocked on his door.

“Alfred let me in,” Arthur said, walking in the room tentatively, as if dealing with a scared animal.

Bruce willed himself not to become distracted at the sight before him. His outfit wasn’t anything to rave about, wearing green cargo jeans, a black tank top, and a matching black unbuttoned vest. Bruce supposed that if he swam in water all day he wouldn��t bother busting out the Armani either. However Arthur still wore it well.

What caught Bruce’s eye was his arms. So strong and tattooed. Arthur just exuded a sense of strength and an aura of danger.

Bruce wanted.

“What do you think you’re doing,” Bruce questioned without preamble.

“You invited me here,” Arthur stated, crossing his arms.

“I mean with me.”

Arthur paused, weighing the pros and cons of being honest with Bruce. He decided on honesty.

“I live by a philosophy Bats. Life is too short to not do what makes me happy. I pursue anything that brings me joy, and you do exactly that.”

“Seems like selfish thinking for a King.”

“If I’m not happy and in the right state of mind, how do I ever expect to lead my subjects? I do not ignore my people’s wishes and follow my own selfish desires Bruce,” Arthur walked a few steps closer, “However I refuse to stop living my life because I am a King. That is not who I am or how I operate. Just because I am King, doesn’t mean I have to be miserable.”

For some reason, Arthur’s last comment made something in Bruce hurt.

“Have you forgotten about the multitude of reasons why pursuing me is inappropriate?”

“What reasons?”

“The glaringly obvious one.”

Arthur continued to look genuinely confused and Bruce hated how handsome he was.

“I didn’t peg you for someone who dated someone decades your senior,” Bruce quipped.

“And I didn’t peg you for someone insecure about your age. You can’t possibly be telling me that’s one of the main reasons you think this is inappropriate.” Arthur quipped back without missing a beat.

“I’m 40.”

“I’m 27. Now that we’re done with saying how old we are, why don’t you give me an actual response and stop beating around the bush like the coward we both know you aren’t.”

Arthur saw a complex variety of emotions flash through Bruce’s eyes before he schooled his expression and they reached an eerie, cold and calculated equilibrium. Arthur hated when Bruce hid his emotions away like this.

Bruce just couldn’t fathom why Arthur would want someone old like Bruce when he had so many other options. Much more physically attractive and emotionally available options. Bruce didn’t understand Arthur. He thought he did, along with the other members of the justice league, but perhaps the more intimate nature their relationship has taken on had him seeing things he otherwise wouldn’t have noticed if their relationship had stayed strictly platonic.

Arthur’s advances, while not exactly unwanted, were harmful for the team dynamic. And Bruce refused to let a decision like a relationship with a team member be made capriciously without much thought.

And Bruce thought

He thought about his graying temples, his responsibilities in Gotham, his children and their relationship which was rocky at best and downright antagonistic at worst, the justice league, and the millions of other reasons they wouldn’t work out.

Bruce was reticent, Arthur was brash.

Bruce was a human, Arthur was Atlantean.

Bruce was in his forties, Arthur was in his twenties.

They were both too stubborn and inexorable. It just wouldn’t work.

Bruce was tired, and broken in ways that made him terrible in relationships. Arthur may think he was interested in Bruce, but it was most likely just attraction. Arthur had no self preservation skills and refused to think with his head, leaving Bruce the unfortunate job of giving him a much needed reality check.

Steeling himself, Bruce began, “Look Arthur-“

“Stop,” Arthur interrupts immediately. “Because whatever self sacrificing noble bullshit you’re about to spew will be a waste of both our times.”

If it wasn’t for Bruce’s years of experience when dealing with meta humans, he would have never anticipated Arthur’s next actions. Arthur crowded him back into a wall, strong tattooed arms slipped beneath Bruce’s thighs and lifted him.

Months later Bruce would deny ever being startled and letting out an undignified squeak at the action. He swung off rooftops every night for heaven's sake. He was fucking Batman.

His hands grappled for purchase on Arthur’s broad tattooed shoulders. Bruce had always loved being manhandled, being over 6 feet and 220 pounds of pure muscle had always made it difficult, but that was no trouble for the King of Atlantis. A tinge of excitement shot up his spine at the new revelation and Arthur’s blatant show of strength.

Bruce’s five senses were overwhelmed with Arthur. The poignant smell of the sea, so natural, and pleasantly pervasive, and much unlike the expensive and overpowering colognes Bruce smelt on a regular basis. His twenty years of exuding self control are the only reason he doesn’t rut against the impressive bulge pressing into his quickly hardening one, and allowed him to keep an impassive expression.

“Bruce,” groaned Arthur. “I can’t make promises that everything will be fine, and this new dynamic between us won’t change things, but I’m also not a fan of sitting by and ignoring my gut. It’s never failed me before and it won’t fail me now, I’m sure of it.”

Arthur rolled his hips against Bruce’s, creating a beautiful friction. Bruce swallowed a whimper as he continued. “And do you know what my gut is telling me?”

Bruce stayed silent, knowing if he opened his mouth, a moan would escape. Grinding harder against Bruce, Arthur didn’t wait for his reply. “It’s telling me to make you mine. To protect you, and be there for you if any harm comes your way. It’s telling me to fuck you, until you can’t walk straight. To paint your gorgeous face with my come. To spear you down on my cock and watch your face contort in pleasure as your body stretches so beautifully just to make room for me. To make you come until you physically can’t anymore. To wipe your tears when it eventually becomes too much for you. But my gut is telling me you’ll be good, even if it’s too much, you’d let me have my way with you until I’m satiated. That you’d let me flood your glorious hole with a sea of my come, so much come that you’ll be leaking for days. That you’ll let me hold you after cleaning up, and listen to you ramble on and on about things I’d never understand like whatever fancy gadget you’re working on that week. It’s telling me that we’d fight, which is a given, we’re too obstinate not to be at each other's throats, but we’d also make up and do it all over again. It’s telling me to take care of you.”

Bruce finally let out a groan, not at the litany of dirty promises, but the promise of being cherished and cared for. Maybe it was his age getting to him, making him soft and desire all of these things he had sworn to himself he’d never have.

Arthur was moving against him with fervor, eyes watching every one of Bruce’s reactions like a hawk, taking in his blissed out face and unguarded eyes. Savoring every whimper and groan that slipped from Bruce’s usually guarded lips. He was mesmerized, Bruce was truly gorgeous. Bruce wanted to tell him that he didn’t deserve to be looked at in such an endearing way. Bruce was damaged goods, scarred and ugly, undeserving of love. But all that left his lips was an embarrassing, “Ah! Arthur, ah fuck Arthur!”

Bruce’s legs that were crossed around Arthur’s back pulled him closer, desperate for more of the addicting friction.

He was close, he could feel it. Pre-come had stained his briefs, leaking like a faucet. Arthur sped up his pace, rutting harder against him, quickly sensing this was coming to an end. His hands slid from Bruce’s thighs to his ass, using this new leverage to grind Bruce against him harder. Bruce wanted to look away, the position too open and intimate, leaving him nowhere to hide. The reverent look on Arthur’s face aroused too many emotions. Bruce didn’t deserve to be looked at like that.

Arthur refused to let him.

He claimed his mouth. Bruce groans at the feeling of Arthur’s tongue and whimpers when Arthur doesn’t pull away and the kiss lasts longer than usual. He can feel his lungs burning, crying for air, but Bruce refuses to pull away, too lost in the feeling of Arthur everywhere to be concerned about the lack of oxygen. Bruce begins to get lightheaded, on the verge of passing out when Arthur finally pulls away. “That’s it love, see how perfect you are for me.” Bruce was red, not completely sure if it was from the lack of oxygen or the term of endearment. Bruce gasped for air, unable to form a reply.

Arthur rocks into him faster, eyes shining in a way they weren’t before. His eyes glowed a bright amber, his powers surfacing. Bruce feels powerful, being able to receive such a reaction from him. “You’re so perfect for me,” Arthur whispers reverently. “Come for me Bruce.”

He was usually quiet during sexual activities but everything was too intense and his attempts to muffle his noises had been met with Arthur slowing down the brutally frantic pace he set for them. Bruce let it all out and let Arthur take care of him.

Bruce had blanked out from there but vaguely remembered a stream of, “Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, of fuck, oh shit, so good Arthur fuck,” coming from his mouth as he was blinded by white hot pleasure, coming in his underwear like an inexperienced teenager. It had really been too long since he got laid.

Arthur shudders and soon follows after Bruce who goes boneless in his arms. Arthur carried him over to the bed. They both strip, each equally eager to get out of their soiled underwear. Bruce watches as Arthur disappears in Bruce’s admittedly ostentatious bathroom and comes back with towels to clean them up.

Bruce, not the first time tonight, admires the King's beauty. Awestruck with how well his tattoos looked on him and how beautiful his hair was. Arthur eventually came back and spooned Bruce from behind, nose tickling the nape. It was so peaceful Bruce almost didn’t hear when Arthur spoke.

“Give us a trial run.”

Bruce turned over on his side so he was able to face Arthur. “Trial run?”

“Let’s date for 3 months, if at the end of this period you think that our relationship is getting in the way of our individual priorities as well as league business then we can end this amicably with no hard feelings.” Bruce pondered this for a moment, weighing the pros and cons and figuring out the logistics.

“However if you find us being able to be together without it negatively affecting our priorities, and you’re happy with me, we make it official. And none of that ‘you’re too young’ or ‘it’s too complicated’ Bruce. If you truly don’t want to be with me because you’re not happy with me then I’ll accept it. But none of that overbearing sacrificial bullshit alright?”

“And what if you decided you don’t want to be with me?” Bruce asked.

Arthur rolled his eyes in mild annoyance for the presumably stupid question. “That won’t happen,” Arthur started, “My gut is telling me that you’re the one for me.”

Bruce’s eyebrow rose with clear doubt. “Your gut?”

“Yes Bruce, so what do you say?”

Bruce sighed in resignation. “I’ll give us a shot.”

Clearly Bruce didn’t think this “trial run” would bear any fruit but he was sure Arthur was going to convince him otherwise. Until then however.

Bruce kissed Arthur, slowly and tentatively at first, but soon turned torrid and needy. Bruce could feel Arthur hardening with interest. It seemed Atlanteans had fast refractory periods.

The rest of the night was consumed by loud groans caused by Arthur, taking Bruce from behind, up against the wall, and on his lap. Arthur had showered Bruce with sweet platitudes as Bruce tiredly rode him after Bruce was strung out from his fourth orgasm. The image of Bruce covered in sweat and come, with his sculpted body and gloriously thick thighs pleasuring himself on Arthur’s cock, wanting nothing but to make Arthur come, regardless of how worn out he is, was seared into Arthur’s memory. Bruce’s thighs were quaking from exhaustion, those glorious muscled thighs. The next time they did this, Arthur wanted those thighs to put him into a headlock while he sucked Bruce off.

Bruce was tired, that much was clear. But he was taking Arthur so perfectly with the mantra of Arthur, Arthur, Arthur spilling from his lips. Bruce was perfect. Arthur didn’t understand how Bruce could ever feel insecure about his age. Just the sight of Bruce had him enraptured, Arthur was truly a lucky bastard, being able to see Bruce in the throes of pleasure. Arthur would continue to tell Bruce how he feels, so he knows just how amazing he is.

“You look so perfect like this Bruce. Split open my cock. Do you know how wonderful you feel around me? Squeezing and sucking me in so perfectly. You’re so warm and wet Bruce, I could watch you for days.

Bruce groaned in protest at Arthur’s praises.

“If only you knew how many times I’ve thought of this moment, late at night with my hand pumping my cock,” Arthur growled. “I want you to come again just like this, just from my cock. I want you to feel good. Can you let me take care of you?”

Bruce went lax on Arthur’s chest, hiding his face in the junction between Arthur’s neck and shoulder.

That was enough of an answer for him.

The soles of Arthur’s feet were set flat against the bed. In this more secure position, Arthur thrusted into Bruce relentlessly, encouraged by the litany of groans. Arthur digs his fingers into Bruce’s ass, holding him steady as his cock rams into him. Arthur picked up the pace. Bruce’s voice got louder, gasping and whimpering as Arthur fucked him faster and harder, the squelch of lube making him blush in embarrassment.

He continued fucking Bruce this way. Bruce clenched down around him and came, small droplets of come dribbling from his spent cock. The slick tightness clenching around him was enough to bring Arthur over the edge for the third time that night, coming inside Bruce. Arthur gazed in amazement at his own come dribbling out of Bruce’s puffy abused hole.

Bruce was going to hate him in the morning.

As Arthur finally let Bruce fall asleep around 3:30 after having his fill with him, he kissed his shoulders with a type of gentleness Bruce was learning he needed to get used to, Bruce was beginning to think this trial wouldn’t be so bad.

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buffshipper8490 · 2 years

Text

Rating: EXPLICIT

Summary Following the events of Zack Snyder's Justice League, Diana Prince visits Bruce Wayne at the Batcave...

Excerpt

It had been weeks since Bruce Wayne and his newly found allies had defeated the intergalactic conqueror Steppenwolf and his army of parademons. Weeks since they faced down his leader, Darkseid, the ancient despotic ruler of Apokolips himself through the portal of a Boom Tube and didn't even blink.

"They" being Bruce as the Dark Knight Batman and the team of metahumans he scoured the world to assemble to take on the growing threat of invasion beyond the stars.

The ageless Amazonian warrior princess, Diana the Wonder Woman.

The Man of Steel, Superman-- a god-like alien and one-time adversary whom he found humanity in as a man named Clark Kent.

Barry Allen, The Flash: the Fastest Man Alive.

Arthur Curry, the uncrowned King of Atlantis and the "Aquaman".

And Victor Stone, the genuis college athlete turned mechanical marvel Cyborg.

They were the Justice League.

Yes, it was rather cliche and melodramatic, but it fit them. It was, at least, far better than the "Super Friends" moniker Barry had suggested.

Bruce Wayne had worked tirelessly since that time to rebuild his family's dilapidated manor into what Barry referred to as a "Hall of Justice" and track down even more metahuman recruits to fill out their roster.

They had a few new prospects: the mysterious Martian Manhunter and John Stewart, a man who belonged to the space-faring Green Lantern Corps from Diana's legends of the Age of Heroes.

Bruce, still in his business suit from his executive meeting at Wayne Enterprises, was cross-referencing whatever records he could find on John Stewart from his Batcomputer in the Batcave under his lakeside residence just outside Gotham City when his trusted butler and partner Alfred Pennyworth patched through the intercom from the residence in the upper levels.

<Master Wayne,> Alfred announced over the intercom. <Miss Diana Prince has dropped by for a visit. Shall I prepare a meal for two? Or should we be expecting more company...?>

"I wasn't expecting company at all," Bruce scoffed. "Tell her I'm--"

The elevator to the Batcave opened.

"-- busy."

"Hello, Bruce," came Diana's greeting.

"Diana... Alfred has grown quite fond of you since your last visit," Bruce said without looking at her as she stepped off the elevator and into the Batcave. "You can keep him if you want."

Diana laughed, crossing the bridge from the elevator to the Batcomputer where Bruce sat. "I'll keep that in mind when I'd like a cup of tea."

"So," Bruce finally asked when she neared the Batcomputer. "What brings you back to Gotham?"

"Not "what"," Diana replied coyly. "But "who"?"....

Likes ❤ and Reblogs 🔁 are much appreciated!

#wonderbat #wonderbat smut #dceu fandom #dceu fanfiction #dc extended universe #batman #bruce wayne #wonder woman #diana of themyscira #diana prince #alfred pennyworth #dc cómics #wonder woman x batman #bruce wayne x diana prince #zack snyder's justice league #justice league

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devilfic · 1 year

Text

❝right place, right time❞

IV. the hierophant.

parts: previously / next plot: you ask bruce to take his shirt off. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, alfred’s a little mean but he’s just being protective, you’re making serious life choices on four hours of sleep and a dream, you’re getting warmer, mentions of guns (none used). words: 7.3k.

a/n: this one is longer than usual and it is largely due to the fact that the last half of this fic came to me at six in the morning and I deigned to part with it. enjoy!

You get about as far as the lobby before your confidence wanes. The woman behind the desk has the kind of look that fits in a place like this: pristine brows, glossed lips, nary a flyaway not tamed by gel and a boar-bristle brush. You realize, quite belatedly, that you stick out like a sore thumb.

Even with a phone tucked between shoulder and cheek, her stare pins you down and tells you to stay where you are. You listen because, frankly, you don’t know where else to go.

She’s in no hurry to finish her call, but it’s all too soon before she’s fixing you with that stare again. You’re already nervous. “Can I help you?” She—Alexandra, you gather from her name tag—doesn’t blink.

You feel ridiculous saying it out loud, “I’m here to see Bruce Wayne.”

Alexandra’s head tips to the side, examining you more closely. Perhaps looking for your audacity, you think, because she doesn’t look too keen on helping you with that request. “He sent me flowers.” You add on, lamely.

Finally she blinks, unimpressed, “Did he now?”

You feel unnerved when you hand it over and she doesn’t immediately take it. Eventually, after your arm has begun to shake, she plucks it from you.

It takes her but a few seconds for her entire expression to change. The next time she looks up at you, her stare is curious, memory jogged. “You were on the news, the doctor from Gotham General,” Alexandra recalls, “did you have an appointment?”

“No. I uh... well, I just... the delivery person dropped these off a half hour ago. I just wanted to thank him.”

Alexandra’s face softens. “I’m sorry, I can’t let anyone up without a prior appointment. I can relay a message, however. Or give you his office’s number.”

You wouldn’t be seeing him today, would you? You’d come here on an adrenaline high, a little angry and a little woozy on pain meds. You hadn’t even been thinking when you’d left your apartment, had turned off your phone as soon as your mother started calling, and now you were on the other side of the city hoping to see the most important man in Gotham. Of course you should’ve called. He left you his number and you thought you could just walk right into his office.

But then again, he’d walked right into yours. Why couldn’t you do the same?

Behind the desk, one of the (heavily armed) security guards is keeping an eye on you. That... answered your question. Maybe you’d have to make that call after all.

You’re about to do just that, thanking Alexandra for her time, when you hear your name being called from a few feet away.

You recognize him in an instant. The weathered, greying face of Bruce Wayne’s right hand man is approaching at impeccable speed, nearly making you stumble back to keep the distance, “Mr. Pennyworth.” You breathe the name at the same time as Alexandra, who goes a step further and stands to acknowledge him. You don’t think it’s customary with the way his quick smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

You, on the other hand, get no smile at all, “What a surprise to find you here. I hope the flowers were received well? We were unable to gather if you’re prone to allergies.”

You wonder how he would’ve gotten that information without asking you first, “No- I mean yes, they were fine. I was actually coming to deliver my thanks.”

Alfred straightens at this. It’s not hard, with all your experience, to recognize a veteran when you see one. He’s got the determined, flawless gait along with the endless eyes (the ones that go on forever with stories and horrors not so far beyond your imagination). He’s also got the immovability of one. You understand why he’s Bruce Wayne’s right hand man. If a bomb was unable to take him out, you doubted much else could. Not even if you asked nicely. “That’s very kind of you. I’ll have to pass your thanks on to Master Wayne.”

Master? It’s not so out of place, situated in his West London accent, but it does throw you off in 21st century America. Everything about him read as other than, and yet you felt the most out of place in this conversation. “Actually, I was hoping if I could see him. I’d like to tell him in person. If that’s alright.”

Alfred’s eyebrow twitches upwards, “Does Mr. Wayne know you’re coming?”

You flush. You really should’ve called first. “No. He doesn’t. I thought-” that you’d all make an exception for me, “I was in a hurry to get here. I didn’t even think to call.”

“Mr. Wayne is a very busy man.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Truly. I just really need to talk to him.”

“Perhaps you can come back another day. I’ll be happy to schedule that with you, if Mr. Pennyworth is needed elsewhere.” Alexandra interjects. There was no way you could tell her or Alfred that if you had more time to think about what you were about to do, you might as well ask to be put down.

Mr. Pennyworth extends his arm, bringing his wrist to his eyeline where he reads the time on his watch. You glance at your phone and realize it’s just a few minutes after one. “Actually, Alexandra, there’s no need. I believe Mr. Wayne has just finished his workout and should be headed back to the penthouse to rest for the afternoon. I don’t believe he’d mind our guest coming up for a chat.”

You cut your eyes to Alexandra, then back to Alfred who’s now looking at you. Either you were really lucky, or there was something you didn’t know going on here.

Regardless, Alfred turns on the spot and begins to walk away.

With one last “thank you” thrown at Alexandra, you head off after him, slowing to a more graceful pace as employees pass pointed looks at you. You shrink closer to Alfred, then further behind him when he casts an inquisitive glance in your direction.

He leads you around the corner, down a long hallway where the suits and ties grow fewer and fewer. A few more turns and you both end up in the elevator alone.

The silence is only cut through every few seconds by the occasional ding! letting you know you’ve passed another floor. This was all starting to feel just a little too easy.

After the first five floors, Alfred speaks, “I trust you’re recovering well?”

“Yes, actually. I’m lucky. We all were.”

Alfred hums, “Yes. It is rather lucky having the Batman around.”

You turn to him, curious, “You’re a fan?”

For the first time in your presence, the old man actually cracks a real smile. It’s faint, but realer than the one he’d given Alexandra. “A critic.”

“A critical fan.”

“I think he’s done a better job taking care of the people in this city than some, though his methods could use refining. And you?”

“I might be biased given that he’s saved my life and all, but I’m a fan,” you wonder if you should tell him. Then, in line with your other decisions thus far, choose to do so anyway, “I actually got to tell him that. When we first met. Before the... hospital. Patched up a nasty bullet wound for him.”

For some reason, Alfred doesn’t look as surprised as you were hoping for. You’d have to find another way to impress him. “Is that right?” His gaze becomes more pointed, “Think he was looking out for you?”

It sounds so absurd to you at first that you laugh, but even thinking about it for a second, it isn’t that absurd. It’s easy, even, to come to that conclusion. You’d saved his life. He’d saved yours. Perhaps he’d just wanted to do away with owing you, but you know that isn’t quite right, “I think he’s just a good person. It was just-”

“Lucky.” He finishes for you, smile gone now. You get the feeling that he knows something you don’t.

Before you can be so bold as to question him about it, he starts talking again, “If I may, Master Wayne informed me of his interest in you prior to his job offer. And it’s my understanding that you politely declined. Now, it’s none of my business as to why you turned down his offer, that was your decision and he must respect that, and it’s neither my business why you’ve insisted on coming here after the fact, but I do want to make one thing clear: as Bruce’s butler, I have seen many come and go through these halls with intentions I’m more than privy to. I know when someone is looking to gain something from him. This is the first time I’ve not been sure what to predict. It’s not clear to me what you plan to get out of this arrangement, but I request that whatever you do, you do not make me regret allowing you past these doors.”

The elevator comes to a full stop, the final ding! alerting you that you’re one floor away from the penthouse. A mechanized voice requests over the speakers to “present identification”. Alfred does not move. He stares at you, awaiting your response.

You don’t know whether to feel angry or sheepish. You stand here in little more than sweatpants and ratty sneakers, shaking like a purse dog where at any moment, someone could come around the corner and put a bullet between your eyes for saying the wrong thing. In fact, no one needed to come around any corners. You’d seen the outline of the 9mm under Alfred’s vest on the way to the elevator. You had little more than your keys on you for self-defense.

You weren’t a threat. You were barely anything without a scalpel in your hand.

And yet this military man with more bullets than you’d have seconds to escape him thinks you enough of a problem to lecture you. God, alright, you’re a little angry.

“If I may,” you start, “I have no clue what Bruce wants with me either. And frankly, I’m more worried about that than you should be about me. I just want to talk to him. If you’re lucky, you’ll never have to see me again.”

He holds your gaze a little longer, wondering if you’ll crack. It takes very deep, measured breaths to keep from doing so.

You don’t know how long the two of you just stand there, but eventually Alfred touches a screen on the wall with his thumb that seems to be the magic password. The voice from before confirms as much, jolting the elevator the last few feet before spilling the two of you out into the penthouse. Alfred says nothing more, simply guiding you down another hallway, up some stairs, and into a room larger than the upper half of your apartment complex.

You don’t have time to pause at the one-of-a-kind art on the wall, nor the shelves lined with books of all languages and disciplines. You don’t even have time to examine the city outside the window (from what you glimpse, the view is beautiful).

You stand out in the open beneath twin winding staircases either side of you, leading up into a dark unknown. You feel like a child staring up at the ceiling, breathing in the gloomy castle. It’s worlds away from your quaint unit stuck in the 80s.

“He should be here,” is the first thing Alfred has said to you since the elevator, “I’ll just be a moment.”

You watch the old man wander up one of the staircases, calling for Bruce. Without anyone watching you, you’re free to explore. And really, what if this was the last time you’d ever step foot in this place?

The first thing you approach is the large table in the middle of the room. There’s a W engraved in the wood, polished to a shine, surrounded by abandoned teacups and loose papers you try not to look too closely at.

The next thing you approach is a small study off to the side where more books live, but your stomach drops when you chance a glance out into the city. You’ve been this high up before, but you couldn’t imagine this being the first thing you see every morning. You could see most of Gotham from this high. Every skyscraper, every dingy alleyway, every car and boat and train from miles around. This far above, it was no wonder they called the Waynes royalty.

You also couldn’t imagine the money it took to build this place. It was cheaper back before anyone in this building had been born, but if Bruce Wayne wanted, he could build one just like it in every major city. You can even see Gotham General from here. It’s... it makes you feel so small.

Your fingers press into the glass and leave behind prints. You doubted anyone would even notice.

You’re seconds from whipping out your phone and texting Emily a photo of the view when Alfred’s voice breaks the silence, “Master Wayne! There you are.”

Shit, he was here already?

You turn, expecting him to be at the staircase or by the front door or even by the table you’d been pondering. You don’t expect him to be just a few feet behind you, watching you watch the cityscape. The sudden closeness makes you tumble back into the window, your head thudding on the glass so loudly that you see Bruce wince.

When Alfred’s voice carries again, he’s much closer. Close enough for you to hear the displeasure in: “You have a guest.”

Alfred leaves you both alone in the study. He cites some phone calls he needs to make and swears to keep “Dory” out until the end of your meeting. You’re assured it’s just the two of you up here. As if that would calm your mounting nerves.

At the very least, Bruce looks just as unsure as you.

He puts the desk between the two of you, still standing, only now his shape has changed. In his fancy suits, he was angular, a person who parted crowds with his size. Now, here, in a t-shirt that hangs off him so loosely he looks gaunt, he looks smaller somehow. Tall and lean but smaller. Softer. It helps a little, doesn’t feel so out of place when his voice matches his demeanor, “Did you get the flowers?”

Only then do you realize that Alexandra still has the card he left you. “How do you know where I live?”

His expression turns frightened for just a moment, then softens, “Your boss called when they arrived at your office, told me you were on leave. He offered to send them to your apartment.” He takes the way your eyes narrow as you not believing him, “He didn’t tell me where. And I didn’t ask.” He hastily tacks on the last part.

Of course, he says all this as if you had lawyers on speed dial. Was it because he had something to hide?

“They were... beautiful. I can’t remember the last time someone gave me flowers.” You reply, honest, and it takes a little of the tension out of his shoulders. Yours too.

“After I saw the news, I was just glad to know you hadn’t been seriously harmed.”

“No, I was lucky. Or someone was looking out for me.” The last bit slips out without you meaning it to. When you look up to hazard Bruce’s reaction, he’s entirely impassive. Whatever got you into this penthouse convinces you to ask the next thing that comes to mind, “Do you believe in the Batman?”

You catch the genuine confusion flit across his face as he asks, “Like... the boogeyman?”

“No, I mean... do you believe- I mean he’s just a person, right? Clearly. But do you believe he’s doing something good for Gotham? Mayor Reál seems to think he’s a sign that the city has gone to shit. I know you’re a supporter of hers. I was just curious.”

“The city’s always been... shit,” he catches your eye as he reuses your wording, “I don’t think he’s a sign. I think he’s a side effect.”

“So... the city gets better and, what, Batman no more?”

“That’s the ideal.”

“I can’t imagine a Gotham that nice.”

Bruce studies you. You find it alarming how still he can be, “Do you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you believe? In the Batman?”

Why do you feel so naive when you blurt out a confident “yes”? Is it because Bruce looks skeptical? Because you realize that maybe you’re more attached to the vigilante than you should be, even if he saved your life? That maybe you’d placed all your hope for a better world in him, and if he ever failed, you’d be in for a rude awakening? All of the above was your best guess. “You didn’t answer.”

Bruce fidgets. “I don’t know.”

“That’s a cop out.” It hits you that the conversation has begun to flow on its own, the longest you’ve ever talked to Bruce. Maybe the suits were the issue after all.

“It’s... like you said: Gotham gets better, the Batman is no more. I want Gotham to get better.”

Whether he’s playing diplomat or not, it’s such a neutral stance that you begin to reevaluate what you know about Bruce Wayne. You shift the conversation to shallow waters, “Your butler is intimidating.”

“Alfred?”

“He interrogated me on the ride up here. Felt like I was being lectured by my girlfriend’s dad.”

Bruce laughs all of a sudden, even less tense. The smile that splits his stoic in two is so very different from anything you’ve seen on him so far, “I’m sorry about him, he’s protective. I hope he didn’t scare you.”

You go to say he didn’t, but then you remember the gun he’d had hidden in his slacks and reconsider, “It’s fine. He let me up here, didn’t he?” Whether he’d done so hoping this would be the last time you ever step foot in the tower or not, you would leave that unsaid. “But I didn’t come here just to thank you for the flowers or talk about Batman. There’s been something on my mind for a while. Ever since you came to offer me the job. I was too stunned to think about it then, but I’ve been meaning to ask you... why me?”

You expect to have to clarify. Bruce takes a long look at you and doesn’t ask you to, “Because you’re good at what you do.”

“There’s hundreds of talented doctors in Gotham. Millions in the world. You met me once and you wanted to put your life in my hands.”

“You’re one of those talented doctors.”

“But you... aren’t just anybody. You have to... you’ve gotta know that, right? You could have asked for anyone. I should’ve been a blip on your radar as soon as you met me. There’s no logical reason for someone with your resources to come to me, in person, and ask me to work for you.”

“Of course there is.”

“Like what?”

Frustrated, he maneuvers around the desk until it’s no longer blocking the both of you. It makes the conversation feel more personal. You don’t feel like you’re talking to the same Bruce Wayne from before, “You noticed I was hurt right away. No one else did.”

“It feels like more than that.” And it does. All of this. Every interaction has felt like something bubbling under the surface, waiting to break skin and bleed out for everyone to see. You keep getting that feeling that you know. Bruce even looks like he knows. Alfred, too. But you’re the only one who can’t quite name it.

It doesn’t help that for a second, you think Bruce is going to say more. He doesn’t. He schools his expression into stoicism again. You find that you don’t really like that look on him, can’t stand not having that glimpse of someone human now that you’ve been spoiled on it.

He takes one step after the other, assertive. You feel like you should step out of the way once he’s right in front of you, when the fresh scent of green apple invades your senses and you notice that the soft strands on his head are still damp. You realize then that you’d probably caught him fresh out of the shower, that it wasn’t just the lack of suit that had changed him. You realize too that his knuckles are still bruised, only now the flesh looks like it’d been freshly broken recently.

You’re so focused on the injury that you startle looking into his eyes for answers. For a shining, blinding second... you’d seen someone else.

“I wasn’t trying to change your mind. The flowers were a courtesy. Nothing more.”

You believe him. He’s not acting. He’s so earnest you don’t even think he’s breathing as he waits for your reply.

You’d come here in a haze and you’re finally sobering up, but you wouldn’t sound like it from what you say next, “And if I changed my mind?”

The stoicism melts. Bruce exhales a heavy breath.

It starts to catch up with you that you still have no idea if the offer is even still on the table. “If you haven’t already found someone else,” comes your buffer, trying not to let embarrassment seep into your words, “and if you’d still like me to-”

“Okay.” His answer is sure, final. His certainty reassures you in a strange way. You still feel way in over your head but God be damned, you got this far.

“Okay. And I have some conditions. I’ll still be working at Gotham General, you’ll just be my priority. And I want to do a physical exam, figure out what I’m working with.”

“Whatever you need. It’s yours.”

You glance back down at Bruce’s hands. He needs no convincing. You think back to that day when you first met him: the limp in his walk, the barely contained pain in his expression, his excuse that had felt more practiced than your speech. If you recalled, he’d favored his left side, which would put his sprain just about...

Your hand is touching his waist before you even realize that it’s left your side. Through the shirt, you feel the muscles that are deceptively concealed. No matter how much softer he looked like this, there was power coiled beneath his skin.

To your surprise, it’s you who reacts first.

You yank your hand away and put one whole step between the two of you—which does nothing. You didn’t recall being this close before you touched him. Just how out of your mind were you?

You take stock of Bruce’s expression. If he had looked any sort of way when you’d been so bold as to touch him, you’d missed it. You summon enough strength to ask, before you could throw yourself out of those beautiful windows behind you, “Can I use your restroom?”

You don’t know what you’re doing, you don’t know what you’re doing, you don’t know what you’re doing.

It’d be better to think something more positive, something that would get you to release your death grip on the sink, but you’re Icarus and you can smell something burning. You can also hear voices outside; Alfred’s, unmistakably, and Bruce’s which would be easier to hear if you pressed your ear up to the door. No doubt, they were discussing you.

Your palms are so slick that they start to slip and you have to run them under water. You don’t even want to think about drying your hands on the towel hanging beside the mirror, quality visible even to your eye, but if you wiped them on your sweatpants, everyone would know.

Your second idea is to check your phone, swiping through the missed calls and messages begging for you to have some sense and call your mother back. You check the weather (clear skies for the night), pull up pictures of kittens, scroll online until you’ve seen every news report and viral video on mute and have no excuse to hide anymore, because the only thing worse than having a borderline panic attack in a rich person’s bathroom was the rich person thinking you were absolutely destroying their plumbing.

You take a few breaths, decide against splashing your face, and begin to turn the knob.

The hallway you’d been abandoned in is far enough away from the main part of the house that you can’t see Alfred and Bruce, even if their voices carry fine. Everything about the penthouse was stately, old money etched into the deep honeys of the wood and warm lamps casting more shadows than light. Any windows on this side of the house are covered with heavy drapery, blocking what little sunlight the city allowed in the waking hours. It’s easier to imagine that you’re not sixty stories up this way.

You can still hear Alfred and Bruce talking as you drift in the opposite direction.

There are a few doors down this way, past the restroom, all doors shut and imposing enough to keep you from taking peeks inside. Outside one of the doors at the end of the hall, you do catch a whiff of clean linen from under the door. The laundry room, maybe? You recall Alfred smelling the same.

On your way back, you look back down the stairs you’d come up earlier and spot an old-timey landline with a notepad and a pen beside it. Chancing a closer look, you see a note with something scribbled across it.

Dory,

Call about the leak. Tomorrow at the latest. Preferably before evening. Bruce won’t be home.

There was that “Dory” again. Was she the maid? The one Alfred promised to keep busy?

“...it has nothing to do with you.”

For the first time, Bruce’s voice carries out into the hall ringing clear. Alfred scoffs, tone bitter, “No, by all means. Bring a stranger home. Give them a key to the place, too, while you’re at it. You might as well rip the bandaid off in one go. I’m sure that won’t be a liability.”

You carefully ascend the staircase again, sticking close to the walls. You strain to hear without drawing any attention to yourself.

“You wanted this, Alfred. You were the one telling me I couldn’t do this alone.”

“But not... bloody like this. Look, this has never just been about you- and don’t you give me that look. I’ve stood by your side since you were a child. Since you were born. And like it or not, what you do has consequences far beyond yourself. When you’re reckless, who do you think’s gonna make sure your mess is taken care of?”

It’s when you slip around the corner that the two come into view, warring voices echoing off the walls no matter how quiet they tried to be, “I’ve never asked you to clean up after me.”

“But you’ve needed it, haven’t you? I’ve done alright, haven’t I? And all I’ve asked of you is to be careful.” From your vantage point, you can see Bruce’s face twist with determination. At the same time, Alfred’s has softened. You get the strange feeling that this isn’t entirely about you after all. “As your butler-”

“As Alfred.”

“...I’m always keeping my eyes open for you, and I’d appreciate it if... if you could keep your eyes open for you too. And mind the overlap. Lest your nights become your days.”

The silence is deafening. Even worse, you realize a second too late that their spat has come to an end because they both turn to where you stand in the archway, clinging to it to hide. Alfred gives you one hard look, forcing out pleasantries, “I trust the amenities were to your liking?”

Your mind blanks for a moment, still stuck on what exactly they’d been yelling about, “Oh, yes. It’s lovely. All of it, the whole place.”

The soldier gives a firm nod. “Bruce tells me you’ve reconsidered. I’m happy to hear it.”

Right. So much for him being lucky.

Before you can muster up some way to curb the tension, Alfred excuses himself from the room, going back where you’d came. Moments later, you hear a door shut a bit too loudly. Bruce hovers several feet away, conflicted. Somehow, this is even worse than the first time he’d left you two alone.

It becomes fairly clear after a while that neither of you know where to go from here. Were you to pretend you didn’t hear all of that? Pretend that Alfred’s anger wasn’t, at least in part, directed at you?

This was all starting to feel too much like a minefield to maneuver. Perhaps all three of you would sleep on this tonight and wake up in your right minds, but for now, all you could do was hope to God this didn’t bite you in the ass.

“Your conditions,” Bruce starts, “have them sent over to me. Whatever you need, I’ll make sure you have it.”

It takes a lot out of you not to jump back when he’s close enough to touch again. As if you couldn’t trust yourself not to reach for him. Or trust that he would even bother to stop you. “Of course... Mr. Wayne.”

By the time you arrive home, darkness has risen over the city and you’re back in your apartment building before your day could get even more exciting.

You’re operating on fumes, fantasizing about what’s left in your fridge from meal prep earlier this week, barely sound enough to get your key into your mailbox.

You feel a presence nearby as you’re sifting through bills and junk. Her scent (that of cinnamon and myrrh) gives her away immediately, “Hey, Judith.”

The little old lady doesn’t smile at you—she rarely does, severe as she is devout—the crow’s feet about her eyes fold in on each other as she assesses you, “You should apologize to your parents.”

You don’t mean to. You usually have better manners than this, but you can’t hold back your sudden, audible groan. Even Judith is startled. “They’ll get over it.”

“They’re worried for you.”

“Did they tell you to tell me that?”

“You need to be careful, dear. Strange spirits are drawn to you.” Her hand chronically trembles as it reaches into her purse. Out comes her handheld copy of the Bible, lovingly worn and dressed with tabs of all colors from her studies. You watch her pick at a neon green tab and flip the little thing open, “I’ve been praying for you ever since I saw the news. That... Batman may have saved you, but I fear you’re still in danger. I have some verses that might help you keep him out should he come looking for you again-”

Judith has never needed to care this much. On your first day moving in all those years ago, she’d struggled up a flight of stairs just to prepare you dinner and offer to show you how to get your janky dishwasher open. Your roommates had found her offputting, had turned down her offer for tea at her place, but you had gone. It’s how you found out that she’d lost her husband and only son years prior. Gunned down, wrong place wrong time. Nothing new in this city. God was all she had left.

If babying you helped her sleep at night, if praying for you gave her peace of mind, you would let her ten times over.

“He’s not a demon, I promise. He’s as much flesh and blood as you and me.”

Judith frowns, not at all convinced, “You’re not in debt to him, are you?”

You shake your head, locking your mailbox back, “We’re even, actually. I saved his life. He saved mine. We’ve nothing to do with each other anymore.” You realize that she’s dressed to head out just then. Her coat is buttoned to the neck and she’s got her beret clutched under arm while she puts away her Bible. “Got Bible study tonight? Stay safe.”

Once she fits her hat over her salt and pepper curls, she caresses your arm. Her hands hadn’t been warm in years, but they weren’t any less comforting than when you’d first felt them. “You too, dear.” Then she reaches for your keys and picks out the one she’d copied for you forever ago, “Whenever you need to, don’t hesitate.”

You watch her totter off onto the sidewalk, swept away in the waves of commuters getting off work. You hoped you’d never have to take her up on her offer.

It turns out that not only had they put your flowers in your bedroom, your parents had also taken the liberty of cleaning out your fridge. You hated that on top of all the incessant texts they’d left you since this morning, you’d be expected to break the ice with a “thank you”. You’d prolong that for as long as humanly possible, that’s for sure.

Somewhere between popping your dinner in the microwave and turning on the news, you found yourself standing at your window staring into the dark. He wasn’t there. You kind of wished he would be, though. For some reason, he was the only one you wanted to talk to.

And then, somewhere between the timer going off and your stomach growling, you’d pushed the curtains aside and propped the window open.

You practically inhaled dinner, glancing every so often at the window during infomercials. With every breeze that shifted your curtains aside, you looked. Every squeak and creak of the fire escape, you looked. By the time there’s nothing left to scoop out of your bowl, night has fallen completely. It makes it harder to see out, harder to gauge if you see him or just a shadow. Your eyes start to cross again and you force yourself to shower the day away.

You don’t expect the window to be closed when you get back.

Even better, you don’t expect him to be standing right outside it.

You’re far too eager to get it open again, cursing the old thing all the while, “Shit- sorry. Must’ve fell closed while I was in the shower, I left it open for you.”

You’re bending out of the window where Batman stands just a step or two away. You have to crane your neck to look up from your position, wondering how long he’d been standing there. He looks a little peeved at you. Had he been waiting long?

“I know. I closed it.”

You blink, “Why?”

“You were in the shower.”

You’re about to reiterate “I left it open for you” with feeling this time when it dawns on you that he’d already clocked that. You shut right up. “Okay—admittedly—stupid move. But you haven’t considered the fact that maybe I knew you’d get here before someone with a gun.” Batman doesn’t look impressed at all. In fact, he looks like he’s going to turn around and abandon you forever. You frantically back away from the window, “Sorry. Are you hurt?”

He waits to answer you until he’s stepped fully inside. He takes a short survey of the room, peering into every corner, before he’s turned his attention to you. It’s clear skies tonight. He doesn’t smell like rain for once, “I just came to check on you.”

Your chest has the audacity to swell with stunned breath. “Really?”

“Were you expecting me for something else?”

“Well, no, I just... I was just... when I said I left the window open for you, I meant... I hadn’t really expected you to stop by. Was more wishful thinking. An invitation.”

Your admission should’ve stayed secret. You watch him work through a host of expressions, landing on a firm scowl.

“Okay, again, admittedly stupid move. Can we move past the window already?” His glare could freeze you dead. No wonder he was so good at his job. “And I’m fine.” He continues to stare. “Seriously. I’m good.” Now he just blatantly looks like he doesn’t believe you. You would find it funny—you do find it funny, actually, though you hide it well—if you weren’t so annoyed that he’d found you just as convincing about your wellbeing as you found him about his own, “But you would know about being a hypocrite, wouldn’t you?”

That last part is said with a little more venom than necessary. You regret it as soon as his face softens. His eyes tells you he takes no offense.

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself saying that a lot tonight, “I don’t know what’s going on with me today. Are the people you save usually susceptible to rash, impulsive decisions?”

“What did you do?”

You exhale through pursed lips, saying with the same cadence of a teenager admitting they’d crashed the family car, “Got a job.”

Batman’s expression doesn’t change except for a teeny, tiny glint in his eye. Teasing, it looked like, “You’re insane. What on earth were you thinking?”

“Okay, ha ha.”

“No, really. You might have brain damage. We’ve got to get you to a hospital, stat.” It would’ve shocked you that he reached forward to press the back of his hand to your forehead had you not been giggling deliriously. You smack it away like he did this all the time, though once you’re touching him, your fingers cling for a little longer than needed. You aren’t exactly sure what about touching him made you want to hold on, monopolize the feeling. Was it because every time you’ve touched him, it’s been an anchor? For comfort? Something that extends beyond words? Probably.

You release his hand before he can notice. Or comment on it.

But then you’re stumbling toward your couch and dropping your head in your hands like you’ve made a big mistake. You don’t have to look up to hear him follow you. “I must be insane.” you grumble, tracking his body where it stops in front of you, where he kneels, and you clench your eyes shut tighter.

You barely feel it at first. It’s faint, lighter than a breath. It doesn’t register as a touch, let alone his touch, until all five of his fingers are hovering over the surface of your knee. You peek through your fingers and sure enough, his hand is right there. He doesn’t dare press his fingers into your skin and it almost feels like he’s dangling you off a ledge.

You don’t want him to let go.

You place a hand over his and hold it there, closing around the leather. You don’t know how long you just stay like that, trying desperately to cool down what feels like a creeping panic. There’s too much happening. Too many sensations, too many thoughts, too many emotions. You just need him to stay there, quiet, and let you touch someone.

You don’t remember the last time you’d been properly hugged. You surely hadn’t been since you’d left the hospital. Your parents had been too focused on getting you to come home with them that you hadn’t thought to ask for one, hadn’t expected that you’d get one. And, to be fair, if you’d been given one, you’d probably have brushed it off.

Because, truth was, you did not know what you were doing.

Batman doesn’t seem to mind being still. He waits, breathing slowly and deeply. At some point, when you zero in on him (because how could you not? How could it be lost on you that this isn’t just anyone you’re touching right now?), you start to match him.

You begin to apologize for the other night when you remember how you clung to him, but fear that another “sorry” might actually annoy him more than leaving your window open again. You search Batman’s face for any sign of “I need to get the fuck outta here” and find none. “I’m asking you this because I trust you: have you ever met Bruce Wayne?”

You watch him shift uncomfortably, but he never breaks eye contact with you. “What?”

“Bruce Wayne. Can I trust him?”

He hesitates, picking apart your face for something, “I’m not following.”

“He asked me to work for him. Apparently, he thinks I’m very talented even though he’s never seen me work.”

“You are. I would know.”

“Yeah, you would. It’d have made more sense for you to ask me. What I don’t get is why me. His answer wasn’t very enlightening. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“...What do you think?”

“I think I want to. But I’m worried I’m being reckless again. I’m used to... I used to chase danger a lot when I was younger. Kind of had a taste for it. I’m worried that that’s what this is.”

“There’s a lot of danger in change.”

“You’re saying I’m afraid of things changing?” He was starting to feel like a therapist now, prodding at old wounds and everything, “Is that what this is? Things change all the time. I’m a doctor. Nothing is ever predictable... and you didn’t answer my question.”

Batman frowns. You realize this is the second time you’ve said that today. “Bruce Wayne isn’t corrupt, if that’s what you’re asking. You can trust that. The rest is up to you.”

You’d think that would have been enough to put all your worries about him to bed, but it left you with more mystery. The bruised knuckles, the pain in his side he’d passed off as just stress, the warning Alfred had given you in the elevator, Bruce’s sudden interest in you... all of it felt connected to something bigger. If it wasn’t corruption, what could it be? And if it was, how deep did it go for even Batman not to know?

You’d be much more prepared for concerns like this on more sleep. And less pain meds.

You start thinking about the skin healing beneath your bandaged leg, the dull pain that shifted with every movement. You also think about Batman’s hand on your knee (the one you’re still holding, the one he doesn’t look eager to retrieve), “Do you have somewhere to be?”

You’d missed looking into those deep blues. He holds your gaze steady, speaking quietly as if not to break the moment, “It’s quiet tonight.”

“Don’t suppose you’ll react kindly to me asking to see your wound.” As soon as you lock eyes with him again, his eyes narrow. You get the feeling he’s getting better at clocking your bullshit. “Unless you’ve got some other doctor friends I don’t know about taking care of you.”

He gives you that look again, the same one on the fire escape that made you worry he’d up and leave, but his hand doesn’t shift from under yours.

You watch him look around, searching. It takes him a few seconds before he reaches for something on the other end of the couch. Your mouth gapes a little when you realize he’s holding one of your shirts, the not so fresh one that you’d forsaken for the shower just an hour ago. He removes his hand from your knee and grabs the other end of the shirt, stretching the material before looking back up at you. It takes you an embarrassingly long moment to figure out what he’s asking for, his hands motioning for you to lean forward.

You slowly tilt closer until the fabric of your shirt caresses your eyelids. You feel Batman pull the shirt around your eyes, around your ears, and to the back of your head where his fingers begin to tie a knot with it. You’d be mad that he was stretching one of your favorite pieces of clothing if you didn’t feel his breath ghost your lips, letting your head be lightly jerked around by his tying, “No. Just you.”

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat @maryx0107 @vainillasmil157 @moony-toasts @sketchiethebear @trawberry-fire @hangmanscoming @agent-scorpio @julesjewelss36 @chonkercatto

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne angst #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman fic #batman angst #batman fluff #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites #bw; rprt

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the-witchhunter · 1 year

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DP x DC: Stuff about Alfred Pennyworth

Just some facts about our favorite butler, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth.

-His full name is Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth

-He’s not as old as you probably think. He’s only 20 years older than Bruce, which would make him early 60′s at most currently. He was in his mid 40′s when batman started.

-He owns a shotgun. While Bruce doesn't like guns, Alfred doesn’t have such convictions, and is entirely ready to use it.

-Former member of MI-5. Essentially, he was special ops, has serious military training and was part of the British counterintelligence agency that combats terrorism and espionage aka he was one of the guys that stopped spies. Some continuities had it where he was MI-6 instead.

-Has killed before. Special ops, remember?

-Former actor. He had a bit of an acting career after he left MI-5. This lasted until his father, Jarvis Pennyworth, requested he serve the Wayne family on his deathbed.

-He has a daughter, Julia Pennyworth, an agent of the Special Reconnaissance Regiment. She briefly took over his duties helping the Batclan, It was a whole thing involving her not respecting him because he went from MI-5 to working as a butler for Bruce Wayne before an Identity reveal.

- He is also highly respected by those heroes who are aware of his existence, including Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and the original Teen Titans.

-Was romantically involved with Dr. Leslie Thompkins. Not much came from that aside from a few dates, but they dated.

-Proficient in emergency medical techniques, acting, mechanical and computer sciences, on top of being one hell of a butler

- While not as skilled at hand-to-hand combat as Bruce Wayne, Alfred is nearly as resourceful. Batman: Gotham Adventures 16 has him kidnapped, only to readily escape and overcome his captors without even mussing his suit. It is later mentioned that he has overcome 27 kidnapping attempts.

-Reads the Artimis Fowl novels

So yeah, Alfred is the best, he’s a hell of an actor, a resourceful former secret agent that has dated Dr. Thompkins and has a secret agent child with an unnamed woman

Why am I tagging this DP x DC? Simply fertilizing the soil. Not everyone is as familiar with the character, especially with how confusing continuity is. Me rambling on is simply an effort to both educate, and give creators in this crossover more things to work with. Maybe it inspires someone, maybe they use this information just to add a little something. Maybe they think, “huh, that’s interesting” and never have to use it

Also I’m just glad we collectively ignore the fact Alfred is dead in current continuity. If you didn’t know, Alfred is dead after Bane snapped his neck and killed off one of the best characters. So I guess we could tie it in with Danny meeting him as a ghost,

Alfred haunting wayne manor just to get Bruce to take care of himself

#dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #Danny Phantom #alfred pennyworth

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eupheme · 1 year

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— until we meet again

[masterlist]

alfred pennyworth x f!reader

Rated E - 5.3k

Tags - age difference, sexual thoughts/daydreams, crushes, mutual pining, enamored!alfred, love-at-first-sight vibes, romance, light angst, oral (f receiving), light daddy kink

Inspired by this incredible anon - I loved the idea of trying an Alfred POV + mini-prequel, for part of Penny For Your Thoughts (posted a year ago yesterday!) 💕

follows part i with a brief reference to part iii

It wasn’t anything more than chance - the briefest meeting of eyes from across the room.

And yes, he’s thought about that moment, wondering. But never thinking they’d meet again - that those thoughts of “what if” might actually be based in some truth.

He had noticed her.

Of course he had.

Eyes drawn to the form sitting at the bar, soon after they had stepped inside. No more than an idle glance until there was a turn of her head - until he recognized her profile.

The woman from the gala.

It had been months ago. Spring, then. The weather was just beginning to warm, flowers pushing through the earth to bloom in the sun as the days grew longer. He remembers the night well - a charity ball for the hospital.

Recalling how he had to wheedle Bruce into accepting the invitation - weeks had passed since he had last gone out, and there were reputations to be upheld.

Somehow getting himself dragged along, as well.

He had been half-listening when he felt the weight. One he had come to know during his time as an intelligence agent - the feeling of being watched.

Eyes sliding to Bruce first, who wasn't listening at all. Dulled eyes unseeing as they stood trapped together in a conversation with a pair of financial advisors from Wanye Enterprises.

Alfred's well-timed hums of agreement enough to carry the conversation, for now. His gaze wandered through the crowd at the cocktail hour, his own glass flute cool between his fingers, all but untouched.

There was a shift in the groups, a party splitting into two. A gap formed between them, when he saw her.

A woman - one he found stunning. Standing with her arm curled around her waist, the fingers of the other pressed against her lips.

They parted, when their gaze had met. She blinked at him with wide eyes - caught. Head ducking as she shifted back toward the companion she was with, the briefest glance back his way before she jumped back into the conversation.

For a wild second, he had thought she had been looking at him. A stirring in his chest he had not felt for ages, for years.

But, surely not.

The feeling twisting into something else, something he didn't wish to examine, as his eyes had flicked toward Bruce.

Towards the subject of her certain fascination. He supposed the thought was pleasant - he'd been trying to convince Bruce to go out, make friends - date - for years.

Anything to get him out of the Tower, to see him smile again.

Maybe even drop this new-formed interest in vigilantism.

This was certainly something to consider.

A rich bell rang out, then. A slow transition into the seated dinner as conversations wound down - each name carefully grouped on the thick, creamy-white seating chart. A gold charm around the stem of each of their glasses, the number stamped on the disc as a reminder.

Unable to help glancing for the woman again, as he moved towards his seat. Finding her - seeing her split from her friend, heading to a table alone.

An idea had swiftly formed. He knew the organizers of the fundraiser - the Wayne family still had close contact with the Hospital, their upper staff.

Excusing himself from Bruce’s side, though he wasn’t not paying attention - eyes glued down to his phone. Scanning through live traffic videos, itching to be out and anywhere but here.

It’s had been an easy thing, to switch his own seat with hers. An escort sent to gently divert her, claiming a mistake in the glass she received.

Her frown had been sweet - the briefest hesitance before she was guided to his old spot. Seated next to Bruce, while Alfred sat four tables away - trying not to watch.

Congratulating himself on playing matchmaker, though he doesn’t feel as pleased as he thought he would have.

Fitting in easily enough - had been acquaintances with a couple at this new spot. Conversation flowing over the appetizers, unable to help as his eyes drifted.

To Bruce, who sullenly picked at his food. Angled slightly away from his pretty dinner partner - Alfred was already shaking his head, his tongue trapped between his teeth.

God, help him.

Stealing the briefest glimpse to the side. Where he met her eyes, again. They lingered this time, for a moment - until her lips curved in a shy smile, until her gaze dropped again.

He allowed himself another moment.

Wondering, but not too much - not sure if he wanted to understand. It’d been too long since he felt a flutter in his chest like this, that wasn’t linked to worry or fear.

He didn’t know how to take it.

It’s hard to remember the rest of dinner. He knows he rushed through it - anticipating that Bruce would not linger, that he’d want to leave as soon as socially appropriate.

Excusing himself politely, as Bruce had stood. Allowed one last look at the girl he wouldn’t see again - just a small, stolen moment.

Before he had made for the door, holding it open for the younger man to pass through. Giving the slip to the valet, as they stood together in the chilly evening, the sun just settling below the horizon.

“Thanks for ditching me.” There was ice to Bruce’s words, a blade-sharp edge, “Should I even ask what that was all about?”

If they weren’t spoken in that tone, he might have been touched. There had been weeks where Bruce hadn’t wanted to be in the same room as him.

“Thought you might prefer a more interesting partner this evening.” Alfred replied smoothly. The next question coming unconsciously, not even meaning to ask it, “Did you catch her name?”

He could feel the eyes on him, but kept his own facing forward as he looked for the valet. Hands slipped into the pockets of his trousers, determined to continue the charade.

There was a low scoff.

“Maybe we should have traded seats, instead.”

Christ.

In this moment he had rued how perceptive Bruce could be. How over time, they had learned to read bits about each other.

A long moment, as the car pulled around. The valet exiting, rounding the front of the car before Bruce had taken pity on him.

His voice knowing as he finally told him her name.

Alfred had tried it out himself - later that night when he was alone. Rolling sweet on his tongue, before he locked it away.

No use dwelling on it, he had told himself. He was busy enough as it - a whole Tower to keep running, a young man to keep alive.

In a city as big as Gotham, another meeting would be unlikely. It would be be better for him to rid her - of any possible connection - from his mind.

And he had, as an old memory that sprung to the surface. One from the summer of his youth - fingers reaching out towards a painting at the Fitzwilliam Museum. An urge to feel the layered brushstrokes for himself.

Pausing, then drawing back. Knowing that it was not meant for that - his touch. That it would never be his. That beauty like this was best appreciated from afar.

And with that - the memory of her was locked away.

He moved on.

And now, despite those odds he had wondered about, despite the way he told himself he’d forget…

He finds they’ve been brought together, again.

Bruce has already split from his side, that honed, laser-focus taking over - leading him deep into the lounge. Leaving him in the doorway, jacket and cane in hand.

Firmly rooted to the floor, as something sweet blooms in his chest. A moment, before he can move again.

Of all nights to see her. Not that he was complaining, it was not at all an unwelcome surprise. But of course it comes on a night when Bruce is in one of his moods.

Hell-bent on a fight that Alfred knew he could never win.

He can’t bear to approach her. It would be impolite, and surely unwanted. She certainly had not dwelled on that night as he had.

And seeing her now, a vision - even from across the room - made him feel more foolish than ever.

But, he finds his feet unstuck. Taking him over to the bar. The urge to still stay close, in a place like this.

His eyes purposely finding Bruce so that they would not stray. Watching the stiff, uneasy gait of his walk as he approached the arch along the back wall.

Almost missing the scrape of a stool, a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.

How she moves to be closer to him.

“Mr. Pennyworth.”

She says his name, and it’s the prettiest thing he’s heard.

A hand extended, and without thought he’s taking it eagerly. Unable to resist the slight squeeze - pressing his hand firmly against hers as he tries out her name for himself.

“Always a pleasure to see you, miss.”

For the moment, her attention is on him. Something he had not anticipated, unable to help a quick look over his shoulder. Finding Bruce again - where he’s talking to the two men, heads bowed.

Surely, he could afford a short conversation?

His eyes turn back, finding hers.

Where she’s watching him, head cocked, “I didn’t expect to see you here. This doesn’t seem to be your usual spot.”

The fact that she thinks she might know his usual spots at all thrills him. Enough that he’s returning her smile.

“Just here on business, miss.” He answers kindly but evasively - his guard still up, when it came to Bruce’s excursions.

Unable to help asking in return, “What about yourself?“

“Same.” She smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, “Though I’ve already done my rounds. I’ve been waiting for the traffic to die down so I can grab a cab.”

A soft, silent moment. The drink lifted to her lips, head tilting back. His eyes sweeping over the exposed column of her neck as she swallows.

A subtle dip lower - admiring, appreciating. The pretty shade of her dress, how it compliments her form. How for a moment, he imagines he was here, with her - an intentional date.

In another life. In another time - when he was ten, twenty years younger. Without the burdens of grief and the scars he still carries.

He’d ask her to dinner. Somewhere beyond his means, most likely. Unable to help it, wanting to sweep her off her feet, treat her to the very best.

Romance her. Bring her roses. Walk her to the door, after. Leaving with the anticipation of next time - and if he was lucky, knowing the feeling of her lips pressed against his

“Too bad you’re not here for fun, instead.”

Her sudden words feel like an electric shock, bringing him instantly back. A wistful, coy lilt to her voice, as she sets the drink down.

Bright eyes finally finding his, her words pointed, “That would’ve been even more interesting.”

Oh.

For a second he thinks she teasing, and what a cruel thing it is. But then he sees her expression, the pieces of the puzzle that he’s been avoiding fitting neatly into place.

Lips parting with an sharp inhale, eyes blinking. Scrambling to find words - because he still can’t bring himself to believe.

That she would actually be interested in him. Not when she was so pretty, so young - not when she could surely have anyone of her choosing.

“You flatter me.” He finds his voice, after a moment. The words almost rueful, “But I think I am far too old for that sort of thing.”

She laughs then, shaking her head, “That’s ridiculous.”

An elbow propped on the bar top, her chin resting in the palm of her hand. A slow lean forward, invading his space.

Close enough that he can smell her perfume - the faded scent of soft vanilla and amber against her skin.

Her voice going low, gaze fixed firmly on his, “Maybe you haven’t met the right girl yet.”

It’s been so long that he doesn’t know how to take it. Defenses rising up instead, deflecting the attention.

Self-sabotaging.

“Ah.” He breathes, watching as her eyes slowly drop to his mouth. Swallowing, before he hears himself adding, “Perhaps someone more like Master Wayne…”

Trying to circle back to before. His poor attempt from the gala - directing attention from himself, again.

Those clever eyes dart back up to his, as she laughs. The glint of the low lights off her hair as her head shakes, “I am certain Mr. Wayne is not interested, nor am I-”

He feels his presence then, the shadow with a weight that he would know anywhere. The silent steps, an appearance at his shoulder.

Alfred’s eyes linger, for just one more moment. Knowing their meeting is about to come to and end. A second of greed, clinging to that thin point of connection for just one more breath.

And then his head is turning, the spell breaking. Seeing the frustration that pulls at Bruce’s face, the downward turn of his lips.

“Just missed them. They’re at the other-”, Bruce all but growls - before his eyes are shifting, finally landing on her. Finally realizing that they’re not home and it’s not just the two of them, anymore.

His words are severed, as she smiles. A tight politeness to the curve of her lips that doesn’t meet her eyes.

Bruce’s head turns sharply, cutting her out of the conversation.

“I have to go. I’ll be home later.”

If he wasn’t in such company Alfred’s fingers would be pinching the bridge of his nose - always forgetting how little manners Bruce could have when he irritated.

The younger man almost recovers, offering a half-hearted bow of his head in her direction. Sweeping out the front door a moment later, as Alfred exhales a long-held breath.

“My apologies,” He manages - his own smile strung tight. Not the way he had thought this conversation would go, “It appears my business has been concluded.”

“Seem like.” She smiles then, small and wistful. A softness in her farewell, “It was really nice seeing you.”

A thousand things swirl thought his mind during the second that her gaze holds his. His keen memory calling back to her words before.

“-waiting for the traffic to die down so I can grab a cab.”

An idea forming to prolong this meeting for just a few moments longer. Not that he shouldn’t offer this anyways - it might be rude to leave her here alone without at least offering.

“Allow me to offer you a ride home. I believe you’re on the way, and it’s the least I can do.”

He has no idea if it’s true, but he’d drive her anywhere in Gotham.

She takes the offered crook of her arm. Fingers pressing into the meat of his forearm - his knuckles curled tightly around the cane, as he savors the contact.

“Thank you. That would be lovely.”

A step as she moves in closer - tucking her body close to his, as they make their way to the door, together.

———

She does live close - her address carefully recited, as he mentally charts the best route to Gotham Village. A little pleased she lives somewhere safe - still in the Downtown-area, but not in places where Bruce visits often.

Soft idle chatter dissolves into a comfortable silence - with as much rain they have, you can only talk about it for so long - as he cranks the heat against the fall chill. Concentrating on the slick road ahead as he weaves through the streets.

Unable to help the occasional side-glance her way. So strange to have her in a place as intimate as this - only a hands-breadth or so away.

Wondering if her perfume will linger later, like a ghost.

His mind soon splitting, as it always did. Glancing up towards the sky - looking for the beacon. The summons he dreaded, only because it meant something had happened that was bad enough that they needed Bruce.

A summons that always brought him back to the Tower, to worry and wait.

But so far, the skies have only birthed the sheets of rain and dark, sweeping clouds.

The trip ends much too soon, as she gestures towards the row of brick apartments. Parking comes second nature - easily sliding his Bentley into one of the open spots outside the door.

Painted a pretty shade of green, like spring. Like when he had first saw her.

“Thank you for the ride, Alfred,” She tells him, his name sounding just as sweet as before. A hand coming to rest on the door handle, before she hesitates.

Her next words floor him.

“Would you come up if I asked you?”

His hands clench around the wheel, as he finds himself frozen in place. There’s not a lot of things that surprise him anymore. Not after what he’s seen, that he’s been through.

But this. This, was certainly unexpected.

“Oh.” He manages, this tongue feeling thick in his mouth. Catching the slow movement as she shifts - starting to lean toward him instead, an elbow resting between them. Her head cocked, eyes watching him so carefully.

Full of nervous hope.

There’s a hammering in his chest, a warmth that blooms across his cheeks and ears at the thought. At her offer - one he wishes so desperately to take. To reach out, sink his teeth into.

But does she know what she’s asking?

Does she really want him? And would she still, when she’s seen all of him?

“It’s uh, been a while.” He manages, to buy a few more moments to think. Even with her sweet teasing, he hadn’t thought they’d end up here.

Far too long since he’s been pursued. He’s forgotten all the steps, his feet feeling out of sync with this dance.

But she’s unfettered - the slowest shift as she moves closer. A soft inhale of breath as a hand reaches out. Her full intent shown as her fingers unfurl to rest against his knee.

Something sparking with her touch, coursing through him.

“I don’t mind if you’re nervous,” She confesses - a hitch of her breath. A small, encouraging smile sent his way, “I’m a little nervous too.”

At her words, something unlocks. The pressure of the want oozing up, seeping through the cracks of the wall he’s built so sturdily.

Unable to help the small, rough laugh just as her fingers inch up, towards his thigh.

To think that she was nervous. As if his rejection would come from a lack of desire, and not years of duty. Compounded into his skin, down to his bones.

He could assuage her. He could do that much.

Moving with a speed that matches her, his own head tilting slowing. Just until his nose almost brushes hers, until he’s close enough to see the fan of her lashes above heavy-lidded eyes.

“That’s not what I said, dove.” His words come out low, rasping. The endearment coming easily, as he watches how his tone effects her - the subtle shift in her seat.

The small gasp that has her eyes closing - those pretty lips parting.

For him. Waiting, just for him.

He moves.

Eyes finally closing as his lips brush against hers. Unable to help leaning in, the urge to touch - a hand reaching to cup her face, hold her close as a soft moan thrums in her throat.

A heady throb coursing through his chest when there’s the touch of her tongue against his lip. As he opens eagerly for her and she clings to him, pressing herself closer as she deepens their kiss.

His tongue passes over his lower lip when they finally part - still tasting her sweet mouth as she leans back. Shooting him a look that goes straight to his cock - heavy-lidded and wanting.

“Come inside,” She all but begs.

Robbing him of his breath, again.

His mind running wild at the offer and innuendo. Unable to help another small laugh, strangled in his throat.

I’d like to. He thinks, as his jaw tightens. Would love to see you come, darling. At least twice. A third time, if I can hold out. If that’s what you want.

Would it be so wrong, to have one night of selfishness?

His head shakes, ridding himself of the doubt.

Making a decision.

His fingers twist the keys, turning off the ignition.

Giving in to what he wants - at last.

“Alright.”

———

She is nervous, he can see it in the way she fumbles with the lock, missing it with her keys.

Though she has no reason to be. He’s hers now, and will be until she no longer wants him.

Hands coming without thought - one against the curve of her lower back, steadying her. Another wrapping around her smaller hand, easing the key in.

Unlocking the door.

“Bedroom?” She asking, a glance over her shoulder as he takes in her apartment - the details that make up her life.

Ready to take a step forward - but he’s not quite done kissing her yet, now that he’s no longer confined to the interior of a car.

His hand still wrapped around her wrist - using it to tug her back against him. Carefully turning them until her back presses into the door.

Her head tilting up as he leans into her space - hands sliding up his chest to grip onto his shoulders for balance.

Fingers finding the soft fabric at her hips at her lips meet his, rucking up the hem. Wanting to make her feel good, too - as her hips press into his. Fitting a strong thigh between hers as she clings to him, already grinding down on his offer.

Already wanting to taste her again, hands roaming up to cup her jaw. Tongue stroking the seam of her lips until she’s parting them with a groan. The sound high-pitched and wanting, as his own moan joins her.

Her fingers unfurl from his shoulders. A hand ghosting down to cup where he’s thickening in his trousers with each rock of her hips. Squeezing him, gently.

Fuck.

His groan deepens, grows louder. His hips jerking into her touch as their kiss breaks - as she grins.

The last bit of that worry and self-consciousness that clung to him like a second skin, fading away at her touch.

He wants her. He can admit that now.

“Bedroom.” He husks, a hand gripping onto her hip as he moves away, as the heels of her shoes drop down. Loathe to leave their connection - a hand still lingering at her jaw.

One that she catches, entwining with her own as she leads him further inside. To her sanctuary - where he lingers for a moment in the doorway, as she sits down on the edge of the bed.

Leaning forward, to reach her shoes - though that’s something he’d be glad to do, for her.

“Allow me.” He kneels, ignoring the ache in his thigh as she extends her leg.

His palm cupping the soft skin of her calf - the other hand deftly working the tiny buckle, slipping her foot free. A soft sigh as he rids her of the other - an easy practice to his movements.

Fingers brushing over skin, the soft sweep of a thumb against an ankle.

Old habits sinking in as he takes the briefest moment to line both of her shoes up next to her nightstand.

Lingering for a moment there, between her knees. Eyes lifting when her legs part further - spreading themselves open for him.

Traveling up the expanse of bare skin - from foot, to ankle, to calf.

Knee, to thigh, to-

Oh.

His breath is low, harsh. The word no more than a rough gasp.

“Stunning.”

This sight of her, right now. The smallest mark of worry between her brows, a bit lip mixing with the dark look in her eyes.

The shadow of her dress not quite disguising the scrap of fabric between her thighs. Darkened and soaked through. Wet, for him.

His hands move on their own. Sliding over soft skin, over the curve of her knee. Watching as she hikes her dress up a little more - but he wants to see everything.

Pushing the fabric up himself - to her hips, as he rises. Fitting his waist between her knees, as his fingers grip at her waist. Taking in every detail - each curve and inch of skin. The heave of her chest, the mounting hunger in her eyes.

The lips that part, begging for him.

“Please, sir.”

Christ, she was going to ruin him.

It’s not a title that was new, not exactly. But time had made him forget. Not wanting to deny her of anything - taking this scrap of what she might like, might want, and storing it deep within his chest.

If she really wanted it, she could have it. But tonight… all he wanted was to take care of her.

The smallest shake of his head as he bends, the curve of his nose brushing over her stomach. The brush of his mouth against her skin as he moves downward.

“Not sir.” He grits out - reaching the waistband of her underwear. A pretty little lace thing, just barely keeping him from what he wants.

Her voice comes again - the syllables light on her sweet tongue, “Mr. Pennyworth?”

That is a pretty sound, and oh so tempting. His eyes flicking up - dark and glittering as he considers it for just a moment.

But then, the smallest shake of his head.

“No, not that either. Just-“

Just Alfred. Just you and me tonight, dove.

“Alfred,” she coos, and he thinks she’s read his mind. Before he’s catching the sly look in her eye as her hip cant upward, “If you wanted me to call you daddy, all you had to do was ask.”

He can’t deny the effect it has on him - the desire that drips off each word. Filthy, in a way he had not been expecting.

Fingers pinching into her hips - unable to bite back the groan as he presses his hard cock into the side of the mattress. A desperate attempt at relief.

Dear god.

Her eyebrow is lifting, lips rounding on a soft and knowing little “oh” of interest.

His own face growing stern, the slightest edge to his voice, “That mouth, darling, is going to get you into trouble.”

If she keeps it up - the flirtation, the teasing, the just being her - then he will surely disappoint her.

Catching her sweetly off guard as his head dips. Flattening his tongue against the spot that is damp for him. A breath through his nose, inhaling her scent before he’s pressing close. Her hips jerking as she cries out, his own hands coming to cup her ass - keeping her pressed snug against his mouth.

Unable to help the low groan, sounding loud in the small room. The fabric darkening under his tongue as he presses into her wet center.

Again, and then again. Already able taste her through the fabric. Still unable to resist tugging the scrap to the side, so he can do this properly.

He takes his time. Tracing every inch with the point of his tongue. Parting slick, puffy folds as he groans, as his cock throbs in its tight confinement.

Leaning back, after a moment.

Needing more.

“Oh,” he rasps. A rough groan pushing from his chest as his fingers curl around the delicate fabric. Peeling them down her thighs, baring her pretty cunt to him.

Eyes flipping up, catching hers - how she’s strung-tight with anticipation.

“I could eat you all day.”

And he would - if it meant that she kept making all those sweet sounds for him.

Leaning forward then, to press his mouth to her. Thighs pressing into his shoulders as he explores with soft kisses and the flick of his tongue.

Listening to what makes her whine. What makes her go silent, breath hitching. What has her lips parting as she moans. As she moves with him, the unconscious rock of her hips as he fucks her with his tongue.

She wriggles above him. Her pussy pressing against his tongue as her ass lifts, so she can tug the fabric of her dress up, and then off. Letting it drop over the edge of the bed, lost in her eagerness.

Baring herself to him, as his eyes drag down. Past shoulders and to the lacy bra that matches the panties he tugged off her. The sweet curve of her breasts, confined in the fine fabric.

He cannot take it any longer. A request, one of the few he will make, slides from his lips. Breathed out against the soft skin of her thigh.

“Can I touch you, dove?”

Working quickly and efficiently - removing his prized golden cufflinks. Tucking them away safely within his trouser pocket, along with his wrist watch. Rolling up one of the sleeves of his shirt over strong forearms, as she watches.

“Yes.” She begs, as the fabric of the other sleeve pushes up to his elbow.

He can’t help the low growl, as his hands move back into place. Flattening against soft skin, dragging down until he’s stroking her sensitive inner thigh. Achingly careful as a finger glides across her clit, watching how she clenches for him.

Wanting to fill that pretty, greedy hole. Fingertips gathering her arousal, tracing the tight opening - before pressing a finger inside.

Sinking deep into the heat as she jolts, a heady moan as he begins to thrust.

Achingly tight as he fits another in, his eyes fixed on where he takes him. Unable to help thinking about how she’ll feel wrapped around his cock. A throb as she whimpers at the stretch - though in the same breath she’s pushing herself up on her elbows to watch.

Where his forearms flex, the noisy thrust of his fingers that come back slick and shining.

“Gorgeous.” He purrs, dipping his head to press a kiss right against her swollen clit. Tongue flattening to swipe over it next, as her thighs trembling, grasping at her bedding.

Pressing his fingers knuckle-deep, as far as he can reach. The techniques coming back to him - even after all this time - as the tips curl, press, drag.

He’s watching as she cries out with pleasure, greedy eyes taking every detail in. Doing it again so he can watch her lips part with a long moan. An unconscious and needy flex of her hips, pressing her soaked cunt closer to his mouth.

“Again.” She whines - as he tugs the plea from deep in her chest.

Unable to keep the edges of his lips from curling as his lips wrap around the sensitive bud. A soft suck as he steadily finds the soft with his fingers again, and then again.

Each of her breathes coming in a short staccato as she gasps, whimpers. Head tilted back - pretty, unfiltered thoughts pouring from her lips.

Begging, for him.

“Fuck me, oh god, please-”

Clenching down around his fingers that refuse to slow. That won’t stop until he feels her pretty little cunt come around them.

Wholly enraptured by her pleading - his voice going soft with want and emotion, “I will, darling. Anything you want.”

Because right now, he would. For tonight, this moment, he is hers.

“But I need you to come for me first. Can you do that for daddy?”

He does it, for her. Returning the favor - as his finger plunge and curl.

Wanting, needing - to bring her over that edge first. Ignoring the throb of his cock, the tightness in his trousers in favor of her mounting pleasure.

He sees how his words effect her. The clench as she bears down around him, a kiss-swollen lip trapped between teeth as she gazes at him with half-lidded eyes. The short jerk of a nod, lips parting to breathe out the word, “Yes.”

Just before she comes undone for him. Her cunt tightening around his fingers as she moans, head tilted back against the pillows. His tongue pressed against her swollen little clit, feeling how she throbs for him.

Each breath a high-pitched pant, soft sounds as her thighs tighten around him. His fingers still moving - drawing out the pleasure, pressing against that spot that had her sobbing. It’s perfection, in every sense of the word.

And, if all he has is this.

This night.

The memory, and her smile, and the taste of her on his tongue -

He thinks that would be enough.

Please excuse the self-indulgence, just feeling a little sentimental. Thank you so so much for reading 💖💕

#just thought this might be fun 💖#alfred pennyworth x reader #alfred pennyworth x f!reader #alfred pennyworth x you #alfred pennyworth smut #andy serkis #tw: daddy kink

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mathiwrites · 2 months

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the justice league's moms' book club's guide to vampire slaying, a martha kent, alfred pennyworth, atlanna & hippolyta fanfic

Chapter 6 - Love, Love, Laugh

“You are telling me,” Hippolyta measures her words carefully. “That this book was selected specifically to appeal to me.” Judging by the cover, there is nothing that stands out to her. It is a woman in a green dress. Good for her. And yet, in her attempt to dismiss the culture of man’s world while remaining included, she has managed to miss the point entirely.

They are here, a part of this ‘club’ to bond with one another that transcends the invisible tether created by their children’s friendships. She may claim not to care about this world, but she has been paying attention. The people have raised good children and excellent allies for her daughter, regardless of gender. It is why she gave this any thought at all.

“And you all thought that a book with a female protagonist, polyamory and a female love interest are what my tastes consist of?”

“Oh, I didn’t think. I know.” Alfred smiles.

The man spends too much smiling beneath that coiffed moustache of his. Hippolyta glares at him, loathing how he has been one step ahead of her this entire evening. From what they have told her, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo sounds wonderful. Though her disposition is tough, Hippolyta’s heart is as soft as her daughter’s. It was her who pleaded with the gods for a child, so that she could be a mother and impart boundless love on a precious little being.

She blames her daughter for Alfred’s cleverness; she must have prepared him for this day, somehow.

“One day, I will wipe that smile off your face, but for now… Grin all you like.” She sighs. “This sounds like the exact story that I would enjoy, and perhaps encourage my sisters to reenact as a play.” Hippolyta folds her arms and steals Atlanna’s copy for safekeeping. She turns to Atlanna, resting her chin against her palm. “And will it take you seven husbands before you realize that I am the one for you?”

For all the velvet in Hippolyta’s tone, Atlanna remains unmoved. She laughs and waves her friend off.

“So, wait, did you two… really?” Martha motions between them. It’s unlike her to ask too many personal questions, but she’s genuinely curious about the lives her friends have led before they became parents to the world’s heroes. She has known Alfred for decades and he never said anything about his life before the Waynes.

“Yes and no,” Hippolyta hums. “Themyscira has always had a political alliance with Atlantis, even before its fall. I have seen many Kings, but only one Queen.” She looks at her affectionately. “I have known the pleasure of her lips, and the softness of her gaze, but she will never be mine.” Her fingers reach out and caress her cheek. Atlanna catches her hand and kisses her palm.

“It is a different kind of love. Hippolyta has my mind, but Tom is my one and my only. I will never love another the same way I love him,” Atlanna holds Hippolyta’s gaze, then turns to smile softly at Martha. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. He brings you balance and peace,” Martha nods.

“And I would only elevate you to the height of goddesses,” Hippolyta laments dramatically.

“But what about… multiple partners,” Martha asks softly and awkwardly. She’s not unfamiliar with the concept, but she worries about overstepping and misspeaking.

The last time she had dallied was before Jonathan, her sweet traditional farm boy, and never with more than one person. Leaving the social circles her mother had practically worshipped for a small town shifted her entire world. It simplified it, and she focused all her love towards her husband, her son and what she can make with her two hands.

She glances at Alfred. The two of them come from a time when people simply did not talk about these things. They just happened, and they were either accepted or vilified.

“It’s not that simple,” Atlanna hums.

“It is not that simple here. Your world has many rules and hangups. Multiple partners can be compatible, but the useless baggage and insecurities.” Hippolyta groans, rolling her eyes.

“You speak from experience,” Martha wonders, out loud.

And that comment has Hippolyta closing herself off.

“It requires all participants to let go of everything they have learned in this modern society, and to choose love above all,” Alfred says softly, looking at his tea.

“You speak from experience,” Atlanna says to him instead.

“Mhm,” he hums. “There are certain kinds of love that you do not let go, ever.”

Neither he nor Martha have ever spoken about it, even if he’d never hid it, either. Too long glances when they thought no one was looking, or overly indulgent touches. She had seen right through them, far too observant for her own good, but she never commented on it. She never asked, not until today, and even now, Martha did not direct her question to Alfred.

“Why didn’t you tell me? When they,” she swallows the agonizing thought. To lose not one, but two pieces of your heart at once. Martha cannot imagine the grief; when Jonathan died, his loss suffocated her. Alfred had been there for her, along with Clark and Bruce. “We would have been there for you. We could have helped with…”

“I know, but I didn’t have the words. I still don't.”

Martha reaches out to him and squeezes his hand. She sits there for a long moment, looking at him with empathy.

The conversation is sobering, and it is wonderful. It reminds each of them that they are more than their roles, their stations and their accomplishments. They are individuals whose stories are not told, quietly tucked behind the legends they have raised. They do not need recognition, but this—what they have here—is freeing .

“My deepest condolences, Alfred,” Atlanna hums.

“If it is of any consolation, I know a place where you retrieve their sou—,” Hippolyta starts.

“I appreciate the offer, but no.” It is not in his nature to toy with life and death. He will let others do that, and he will face the consequences as they come. Alfred chippers up, lifting his chin. “Enough of this serious talk. I am on vacation. Let us leave the glowering to the Knights of Gotham. Tea, anyone?”

“Actually, I was thinking we could have dinner.”

Outside, the sun has set. Normally, Martha would have had dinner by now, and readied herself for bed. A buzz settles in her bones as she washes the teacups and the saucers. She doesn’t stay up late often, and it’s exciting to have friends over. They’ve all agreed to stay. She also has no qualms putting the others to work. While she cleans up, Alfred has been tasked with putting the food from tea time away, and both Queens work together to set the table.

Her mind wanders as her hands work. The farm looks different at night; she admires the way her berry bushes have begun to grow on the side. She likes to dream of happy little creatures nibbling on this season’s yield. In the distance, the barn looms over the farmhouse, but she knows it's a place of warmth filled with animals who want nothing more than chin scratches.

The rest of her land is a forest of stalks—corn and sunflowers—but the verdant colours have turned into nothing more than a dark wall surrounding her home. Had she not spent the better part of her life surrounded by these fields, and had she not found the greatest gift in the middle of that field, then maybe she would have found the farm isolating. Intimidating.

Movement snaps her out of her reverie. The stalks don’t move, not normal. They stay still, watching her with the same intensity that she watches them. Martha stops the water, leaning forward on the counter and looking outside the window.

There.

A quiver of leaves, and then it’s gone again. She squints, willing herself to see what’s there.

An animal?

Most animals that roam freely through the farmlands are too small to cause that kind of movement. The neighbours must have lost a goat again. Her own cow, Bessie, has been known to wander.

Your mind is playing tricks on you, she mused, looking down to dry her hands. The moment she looks up, she sees it.

A dark figure standing among the stalks, its head illuminated by the moonlight, but its features darkened by shadow. It stands there, watching her. Chills ripple across her flesh, lighting her up from the inside out with a certain kind of fear.

“Martha?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin. Atlanna looks at her, as if she has grown three heads. Her gaze follows Martha’s out the window, but she sees nothing. Atlanteans eyesight is not made for the surface. Her body may have adapted after all these years, but seeing at night is still difficult.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes. It’s just this new generation of teenagers. They have no respect for others.” The lie is a comfort, but not for Atlanna. “I’ve slow roasted beef. A spin on Alfred’s recipe,” she grins. “I’ll be with you in a quick sec. Have a seat.”

One last glance out the window, and all she sees is the dark row of stalks—corn and sunflower.

That’s what I get up for staying up late.

#my fics #dc comics #dc fanfic #atlanna #alfred pennyworth #martha kent #hippolyta #superfam #batfam #batfamily #aquafam #wonderfam #pennywaynes #alfred pennyworth x martha wayne x thomas wayne #polyamory #superman #batman #wonder woman #aquaman

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bipanicoverthegravessiblings · 2 months

Note

weirdass lesbian polycule b/w julia, reader, and ashley because as alfred pennyworth said: "some men just want to watcu the world burn"

if you can't do it then tis fine ^^

The forbidden prequel to the Yuri Square, the Lesbian Triangle of Doom

Julia x Ashley x Fem!Reader

Truly, your taste in women is enough to give someone whiplash

Looking at one of your girlfriends, it’s crystal clear why you love her to passersby

She’s soft spoken, polite, positively adorable- no doubt about it. Overall a wonderful woman

Meanwhile- your other girlfriend is a BPD nightmare

Ashley is loud, brash, acts first and doesn’t really dwell on the potential consequences- not to mention her….”insightful” personality

Though she doesn’t take kindly to the questions people have about your relationship

The comments can make her a bit insecure though- worried that you like Julia, or prefer her cause she’s “low-maintenance”

It couldn’t be further from the truth however

You love both your girlfriends

No matter how drastic their personalities are

Ashley clung to your arm, glaring daggers at the man Julia was profusely apologizing to for her outburst. A small altercation- mishearing a conversation you were having with him, believing he was speaking ill of her. So naturally she chewed him out….very publically you may add.

The three of you had decided on a nice walk, enjoy the scenery the best your miserable world would allow, but faith had other plans. And those plans involved calling a man more swears than you realized there were in the English dictionary.

Ashley grumbled, tightening her grip on your arm. You should be mad, should be reprimanding her for such an act but…

Goddammit she was cute.

Her cheek was pressed against your arm, squishing against it a little as she gave a disgruntled look towards the man- almost trying to intimidate him from where the two of you were standing. It was so cute, like an angry cat.

You couldn’t help but smile, running your hand through her hair to try and help soothe her. She initially flinched under your touch before accepting the affection. The scowl never completely left her face…but it definitely improved a little.

Julia rushed back over to the two of you, looking slightly less worried than she did earlier, “Okay! Good news!” She beamed, “The guy agreed not to sue us for Ashley calling his dead wife a maggot-infested, dead pig!”

“Hurray!” You raised the arm not occupied by your girlfriend in victory.

Ashley grimaced, but truth be told, she was a bit relieved to avoid trouble once again, “…wooooooo.”

Julia joined your other side, and you lowered your hand for her to take. Her approach was a lot gentler than Ashley’s, instead opting to gently take your hand into hers. She gave your hand a small squeeze before the three of you continued on your walk, chatting aimlessly with Julia while Ashley quietly listened- the scowl gradually disappearing in place of a small smile.

How the three of you ended up in this relationship is- beyond your understanding

Originally it was just you and Julia, having gotten together with a good while after her break up with Andrew

Though you’d been acquainted with her before then

You’d been aware of the dumpster fire that was her previous relationship, how she was harassed by Andrew’s sister into calling things off with him

And even then he was a flake with strange priorities

She only ever gave Andrew’s name, never once mentioning his sister’s

So it was a surprise to everyone when you learned that Ashley was the same one who previously harassed your girlfriend

You’d run into Ashley once while buying groceries, and you just kept bumping into it- strangely enough

Though she was fun to talk to, so you didn’t question how this woman just kept showing up wherever you went

Seems she found you to be fun as well

She made her advances pretty clear, even after you told her you had a girlfriend

You’ve had to reprimand her on personal space a lot during that initial friendship period

To make things worse for your conscious, you slowly caught feelings to

You talked with Julia about it, you’d told her about a new friend you made prior to this

It was a long talk, trying to figure out how to move forward and- explain your feelings

You still loved Julia- by gods you loved Julia. How could you not? She was just so sweet and beautiful and understanding and way too good for this shitty world

But what you chalked up to just- initial physical attraction to Ashley blossomed into something more complex

By the end of the talk, Julia wanted to meet Ashley. Get to know her before moving forward with any type of polygamous relationship

You’d all have dinner! Meeting up at your apartment and chatting on the way

….things couldn’t have gone more south.

You stood awkwardly between the two women, fidgeting with your hands nervously. Julia was partly hidden behind you while Ashley was standing in the doorway, scowling.

When she had arrived, both had very different reactions to the others; neither good. Julia went pale, looking like she saw a ghost, while Ashley had a scowl that was ice cold. No one had said anything, but just from the context clues…things didn’t look well.

Julia peered at Ashley from around your body, trembling. It was subtle, but given how close she was you could tell.

Ashley’s expression changed on a millisecond, sickeningly sweet as she grinned, “Well! Isn’t this such a small world..” you could feel the malice behind her voice.

“I…take it you two have already met?” You didn’t really know what to say in this moment.

Julia nodded, Ashley stepped closer.

“Awwww, what’s wrong Julia? I don’t bite~” She cocked her head to the side, trying to peer at Julia from her hiding spot, “Don’t you know it’s rude to ignore your guests?”

You turned to look back at Julia, she glanced back at you and then at the ground.

“Ashley is…Andrew’s sister…” she mumbled. It was the smallest bit of information, but it was enough for you to connect the dots.

Andrew’s sister harassed Julia. And unless he has another sister, then that means Ashley…

“Tattletale.” Ashley grumbled, crossing her arms, “Come onnn, I wasn’t being serious.”

“You told me to slit my wrists proper.”

Ashley made a few motions on her wrist with her finger, “Across the street for attention, down the street for results.”

Julia pulled up her sleeves instinctively. And well- you just about had enough.

“Okay, yeah- that’s it.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “You’re gone.”

“What?”

“What?!”

Ashley looked shocked to say the least, eyes wide. She then narrowed her eyes, looking very angry.

“What do you mean ‘I’m gone’?!”

“I mean you’re gone,” you stood your ground, “You harassed and threatened my girlfriend.”

“I didn’t even threaten her!” Ashley claimed, balling her fists up in frustration. Her nails dug into her palms a little.

“You kinda did…” Julia pointed out, quietly…but she pointed it out.

“Bullshit!” Ashley’s voice caused Julia to flinch back in response, “And you’re not even dating Andrew anymore, so obviously I won’t do it again.”

“How do I know you won’t try to get me to break up with Y/N?…” your girlfriend pointed out again, holding on to your arm for moral support as she stood up for herself, “She told me you like her…”

“Tattletale for Tattletale I guess..” Ashley muttered.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Your voice was firm, leaving no one to question if you meant what you said or not, “I don’t want to be friends with you if you’re going to talk like that to Julia.”

Your statement seemed to have actually gotten a response out of Ashley. Wide eyes at the fear of losing you. She furrowed her brow and directed her pink gaze to the floor, thoughts swirling behind her eyes as she thought about this. You used this moment to silently console Julia, taking her hand into yours and kissing her forehead.

“Alright.” Ashley’s voice caused both of you to jump. Not cause it was angry, just cause she hadn’t spoken for a while.”

You tilted your head, “Alright?”

“Alright,” She crossed her arms once again, looking away, “I’ll behave. I won’t mess with Julia again.”

That was….surprisingly easy. Almost made you question the validity of her words. But further observation told your differently. Ashley was hard to read, yes- but she gave no indication that she was lying. She was looking directly at you, her expression not nervous or anything. In fact it didn’t look much of anything. You didn’t know what to make of it, so you turned to Julia.

Julia had also been studying Ashley. She let go of your arm, feeling a bit more confident in her words, “Why’d you change your mind all of a sudden? I thought you hated me?”

“I never hated you…” Ashley mumbled, “I just- didn’t want you dating my brother.” It felt like she had more to say on that, but she moved on, “And I don’t want to lose Y/N so…” she shrugged, “I won’t ‘threaten’ you.”

“The air quotes don’t make me very confident…”

You rescheduled lunch. You wanted to see if Ashley would make good on her promise to not harass Julia

And surprising both of you, she did.

It was like she was….actually making an effort to be nice to Julia when you all hung out

The two even talked on their own merit, sometimes!

After learning what Ashley had done, it took you a while to reconsider your feelings.

Even if they were still there, which they were, did you even want to date the woman who hurt your girlfriend

Julia had to give you the okay, when she was ready of course. She took longer to come to terms with Ashley than you did

You all had that lunch, and had the conversation you wanted to have originally

Is this the healthiest relationship? No

Ashley still has her moments, and has to be reminded a lot of what she promised

But, you’re willing to brave those storms

Because the outcome is….peaceful. Surprisingly.

Maybe you can convince both of your girlfriends to get therapy so things can be peaceful more often…

#the coffin of andy and leyley #ashley graves #tcoaal julia #ashley graves x reader #tcoaal julia x reader #x reader #so sorry this took a while #I got swamped with school shit

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imagines--galore · 1 year

Text

||Lucky Break||

Summary: When a building nearly collapses on top of Lucky Penny, Superman assumes the worst.

Pairing: Superman x Lucky Penny - Clark Kent x Penelope PennyworthOC (DC)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Mentions of near death.

A/N: Just a bit of background, Penelope is the grand-niece of Alfred Pennyworth and Bruce considers her a sister. No she doesn’t have any powers. But she is instrumental when it comes to designing and coming up with the the gadgets used by Batman. As well as the tech that the Justice League uses. And she kind of acts as the comm master whenever they’re out in the field, delegating tasks and helping them figure out the tactical side of fighting.

Also I am now taking requests so go ahead and send me stuff. You can find my rules here. Please send me stuff to write!

“No! No! No! No!”

The constant cry was followed by the sound of rocks being shifted around as the Kryptonian dug through the debris. He barely noticed as Wonder Woman landed nearby, her eyes shining with worry as she surveyed the damage.

“Superman?” The Amazonian called out. “Is sh-“ She was instantly cut off by the man.

“She’s buried under there!” He grunted as he lifted a particularly heavy piece of debris and flung it aside. “I have to get her out!”

Flash skidded to a halt next to the black haired woman. His heart stuttered in his chest at the sight of the destruction. “C-could she have even survived….?” His words trailed off as Wonder Woman shot him a look of warning. Superman had indeed heard him but he chose to ignore the words.

“We need to get her out! She’s probably hurt.”

His teammates glanced at one another before starting to help him as well. Wonder Woman was beside Superman, pushing aside concrete and debris, while Flash made quick work of running around the parameter, keeping an eye out for any movement.

“Bats is gonna kill us.” The speedster mumbled over their still connected comms. “He is actually going to kill us then do something worse then death to our bodies.” Wonder Woman was quick to scold him.

“Focus on finding her Flash. She knew the consequences of her actions. She is a warrior who knew the risks.” Pulling back an arm she punched through a wall of concrete that was stuck, watching it crumble away. A heaviness seemed to settle in her chest when she did not find anything underneath. Diana had no desire to loose a friend and comrade in arms. She simply kept digging.

Flash came to a stop next to her picking up dust as he did. “If anything I hope shes alive for his sake.” He whispered to the Amazonian. The two Leaguers stopped what they’d been doing to watch their friend still digging desperately through the debris. His uniform was covered in dust and his normally neat appearance was unkempt. But his eyes were the worst of all. Even from the few feet of distance between them, Diana could make out the sheer desperation in them. Flying next to him, she laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Superman? Maybe you should step away. Call for reinforcements while Flash and I-” She was cut off when the Man of Steel suddenly went completely still. He stood, his eyes unfocused and his hands trembling.

“I-I didn’t even get to tell her.” He spoke in a low tone. Diana’s heart grew heavy at the sheer amount of heartbreak and sadness in his voice. Flash, as oblivious as ever, frowned.

“Tell her what?” He asked, pushing aside a relatively smaller piece of rock.

“That I love her.”

The proclamation caused the speedster to drop the heavy rock he’d been lifting, kicking up a lot of dirt and making him cough.

“Wh-coughcough-what?!”

Silence followed. The man in blue dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands. Both Flash and Wonder Woman were at a loss. They had never seen him react the way he was. Superman was their leader. The man who stood as a symbol of peace and hope for the people of Earth. The apparent death of their team member seemed to have taken the fight out of him.

“Sh-she can’t be gone.” The Flash whispered, his shoulders drooping as a dark cloud began to form over his normally upbeat persona. Wonder Woman bit her lower lip, her mind flashing to how Batman would react to the death of the woman he considered his closest family.

Clark’s mind was racing a mile a minute. Memories of her. Of every moment they had shared, just flashing before his eyes. His heart thumped wildly in his chest. So loud he barely registered the heartbeats of those around him. Sorrow and dread began to creep in his veins. Ice cold and flashing hot at the same time. For once in his life his knees had trembled and he’d been forced to kneel. He felt empty. Completely and utterly devoid of any feeling. He hadn’t felt this way since his father died.

“You know? If my nearly dying was all it would’ve taken for you to admit you loved me, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”

The voice came through their comms, slightly distorted and warbling. All three heroes began to look around frantically. Flash, never one to stand still, made a dash around the crash site. Only a second later a happy cry echoed through the comms.

“Lucky! Man am I glad you’re alive.” Wonder Woman floated over to the sound of Flash celebrating, leaving Superman to follow after her. As she crested a rather large piece of fallen building, she was met with the sight of her presumably dead team member.

Her uniform was torn in places, the mask covering her eyes ripped at the seams, her body covered in scratches, hair in disarray, a wide cut across her cheek. Flash seemed to be supporting her as she stood. A quick glance showed her keeping her left foot off the ground. She must’ve hurt it. Yet despite the fact that Lucky Penny looked half dead, the brightness that was unique to her eyes still shone through. The woman offered the Amazonian a smile, though it came out as more of grimace as the pain at her side flared.

“I am glad you are alive Lucky.” Wonder Woman stated warmly, reaching out to grasp her friend’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Lucky Penny laughed softly as Flash nodded.

“Yeah! Imagine having to tell Bats that you had died on our watch. Phew! We wouldn’t have been safe anywhere in the galaxy. Although,” He smirked as he spied Superman approach them, walking towards them instead of flying. “I think Supes would’ve handed himself over to Bats of his own free will.”

For being the fastest man alive, Flash could be a little slow when the situation called for it. He didn’t notice her swaying on her feet, and nearly didn’t catch her when she fainted. He almost didn’t catch her in his arms, supporting her body as it went limp. Both Wonder Woman and Superman called out her name in worry.

“Seems she hit her head pretty hard there.” Flash muttered, carefully zipping over to the still approaching Superman and depositing the dark haired woman into his arms. “She’s all yours Supes.” So saying, the red clad man ran off to deal with the civilians gathering nearby. Wonder Woman, with a knowing smile directed at her two friends, followed after him.

Clark looked down at the woman in his arms. She had always seemed so fragile and delicate, but now, with the way she was hurt and unconscious, she seemed even more so. Oh, he knew just how tough she was. Penny could give Bruce a run for his money when it came to being stubborn and pushing yourself to the limit. Sighing deeply, the uneasiness in his heart lifting a little now that he knew she was safe, Clark simply rose to the sky to get her the help she needed.

--------------------------

It took awhile, but she finally woke from her near comatose state.

According to Martian Manhunter the injuries were quite severe, and recovery would be long. Penny had asked him not to go into too much detail when it came to telling Batman about her condition, but she knew it was a futile attempt. Still can’t blame a girl for trying.

Green Lantern and Hawkgirl had already been in to see her and ask about her well-being. Hawkgirl had praised her for her bravery. Green Lantern, on the other hand, had been downright furious, saying she had no right to risk her life like that. Penny found his reaction sweet, and had teased him about it. Saying how she always knew he had a soft spot for her. The two of them had never seen eye-to-eye ever since the formation of the Justice League. Green Lantern didn’t think they needed someone to boss them around over comms during fights and various other skirmishes. Lucky Penny had taken that as an insult and had been just as cold towards him as he had been to her. But their relationship had thawed overtime. And the way he had reacted just now, proved that she had managed to worm her way into his heart. Despite his various protests that it wasn’t so.

As Hawkgirl dragged him away so that their companion could rest, Penny leaned back against the fluffy pillows on her bed. Batman had been to visit her too. Though it had just included him simply standing and staring at her. She had stared right back, offering him a slight smile. That seemed to be enough for the man in black as he had exited the room without another word. Penny had relaxed after he left. Bruce would tell Alfred she was fine and on the mend. The worry she had detected in his posture had disappeared once he had made sure she was fine.

Now the only person left to reassure was a certain man clad in blue.

Apparently he had not left her side since J’onn had begun to treat her. Simply sitting there on the couch and keeping an eye on her vitals. Penny had a sneaking suspicion he was monitoring her heartbeat via x-ray vision. He had also been the one to inform J’onn of ever single injury, cut or bruise she had in excruciating detail. And when she had tried to tell him that she was alright, Clark had simply given her a dark look. She had kept her mouth shut after that. Normally, she would test his patience, but for the time being she didn’t think it wise to do so.

And so here they were. Sitting and staring awkwardly at each other.

Well awkward on her part. He was perfectly content with the tension in the room.

After a few minutes of simply fiddling and squirming where she sat, Penny turned her gaze to Clark, smiling nervously at the look of sheer vexation on his face. She cleared her throat. “Well destroying the building was the only way to make sure the technology and blueprints could never be used.” The woman tried to reason. Silence followed her words as Clark continued to stare at her. Finally, she sighed and fixed him with an exasperated look. “What now you’re not gonna talk to me?”

Silence.

An aggravated sigh fell from her lips. “Kent, I had to do what I thought was right.”

Instantly his entire body language changed. The words probably acted as a trigger for him as he stood up, marching to stand next to her on the bed, nearly looming over her.

“And that included sacrificing yourself?” Penny stared up at him in absolute defiance. “If dying for a greater good is the way to go then I will take it.” She spoke with absolute conviction in her voice. “You should know. How many times have you nearly sacrificed yourself for all of us?”

Clark frowned, crossing his arms over the symbol on his chest. “Thats different?” The injured woman frowned in response, mirroring his arms. “Why? Because you’re seemingly indestructible?” There was no way she would be letting this go.

Who in the hell was he to say whether she could sacrifice her life or not? Sure he was the leader of the Team she worked with, but they were all free to do whatever they wanted. So long as it was legal and didn’t cause anyone harm. His eyes blazed, and for a moment Penny caught sight of the Kryptonian underneath that dealt with villains.

“Yes! Because I can take a chance with a plan as stupid as detonating a building. Because I can walk away from a falling building. I can dust off and get back up again. You can’t.” His voice was full of frustration as he spoke, running a hand down his face as he did.

Penny seemed to shrink where she sat, propped up against several pillows. “Way to make a girl feel weak Kent.” She muttered. There was no malice in her words, and certainly no anger. Penny knew out of everyone in the Justice League, she was the least equipped in terms of strength and speed. She didn’t hold it against anyone though. They all had powers while she didn’t. Minus Bruce, but he was stronger then her because of his training, so still the weakest of the Team.

Catching the dejected way she looked at him, Clark sighed. He moved to stand next to her. “You know what I mean Penny.” He said softly. Her brown gaze lifted to meet his, a pout pulling at her lips as she did. “Now you know its not fair. I can’t stay mad at you when you’re looking at me like that.” She joked, reaching up to gently bump the side of his arm with her bandaged hand. The gauze was wrapped around her fingers mostly, so when he suddenly took her hand, she could feel the warmth of his skin through the bandage.

Slowly he lowered himself so he could be in her direct line of sight, instead of where she had to crane her head back to look up at him. He was on his knees now, just as he had been when he thought he had lost her.

“That was just a lucky break for you Penelope. What if the next time you aren’t so lucky? What then? What will I tell Alfred? How do you think Bruce will handle you dying? Or the rest of the Team?”

Guilt crept along her body, bubbling deep within her gut as she broke away from his intense, imploring gaze and directed it towards the white sheets that covered her body. “I - I suppose I wasn’t thinking about everyone. I just wanted to do what was right.” She finally said. Clark shook his head. “I’m not telling you off for doing the right thing Pen. I just want you to see that you getting hurt, or worse, will result in a lot of people hurting in the process as well.”

She glanced up at him. “People, Kent?”

He gave a deep chuckle, raising her injured hand to his lips and giving it a small kiss. “Yes Pen, People.” A beat of silence before he spoke again. “But to be honest, I’m asking you to be more careful because I don’t want you to get hurt.” He admitted. “And I know its selfish of me to ask something like this of you, especially when I tend to run into danger head on as well, but I’m saying this because I love you.”

Even though she had heard him say those words before, they hadn’t been directed towards her. Not really anyway. So for him to say it directly to her? An entirely new range of emotions welled within her, emotions that had her wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. Which was ridiculous, and yet it made perfect sense.

A long stretch of silence followed his words, where she simply looked at him. Clark was content on looking back, as if he were still reassuring himself that she was alive and safe.

Which was why when he blinked and found her face only a few meters from his, he nearly jumped back in surprise. She didn’t give him any time to do so, as her lips found the very corner of his mouth and lingered there for a good few seconds before pulling back.

Clark was a little too stunned to do anything. He hadn’t been expecting her to kiss him. Mostly because Penny was rather reserved when it came to her emotions. Just like her brother. As she shifted to lean back against her pillows once more, the blush on her bronze skin was prominent.

“You are the bane of my existence Clark Kent.” She was referring to the multiple occasions, she had given a set of instructions or orders during a mission and he had gone in a completely different direction. He had pissed her off on more then one occasion, and she had annoyed him so many times by telling him off about ignoring her that they didn’t even have a tally to keep score.

Yet somewhere along the way of shouting matches and snide comments, he had begun to listen to her suggestions. And she, in turn, began to take his strength and brute force into consideration when coming up with tactical solutions. It was slow going, and they still go on one another’s nerves. Still fought and argued. Yet it held an intensity that had never been there before.

And intensity that had culminated in feelings neither of them had planned on developing when it came to the other party.

And yet, here they were.

“But, I love you too.”

The expression on his face that followed her confession was as bright as any star she had ever seen.

He moved forward, and she knew he was about to kiss her, but she held up her other hand, pressing her fingers to his lips and laughing softly at the look on his face.

“And I would prefer to be kissed when I don’t look like I’ve been used as a punching bag.” She referred to her injured state. “Also I’m really hopped up on pain medication, so there is a chance you might need to confess to me again.”

The answering laugh that followed the words made her fall in love with the Kryptonian even more.

#clark kent x oc #clark kent x reader #superman x oc #superman x reader #dc imagine #clark kent x y/n #superman x y/n #henry cavil #justice league

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