#ch: alfred pennyworth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acid-ixx · 5 months ago

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ch.2: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

*"XX/XX/XXXX, entry no. 13.

i hate everything. i hate my family. i hate my father, i hate my brothers, i hate my classmates, i hate alfred, i hate this place, i hate my mom, i hate everyone.

why can't i ever get what i wanted? what do i have to do? i tried so hard to be everything for them, but why do i only amount to nothing? it's been a year, or two, i don't know. it hurts trying to remember when was the last time i saw him. saw, not talk, because he never talks to me, bruce never even looks at me. and i hate myself for trying to get him to look at me.

is he disgusted at me? does he see my mother in me? does he hate me that much? i don't know, i don't want to know, it hurts to know. i don't know why i'm trying anymore, i don't know how longer i can last in this hell. i can feel it, the longer i stay here, the more i lose a part of myself. i don't want to be here.

i don't want to pray anymore.

so if there's any god out there watching over me, then i wish for you to burn, to suffer, to go through the same thing i have been experiencing for years— all for putting me in this place. i would've been fine living in the streets with my mother. i would've been alright providing for our small family, i would've known to never get my hopes high, but you took her away from me!—

i hate you."

"master (name), are you awake? dinner is ready."

you had to shut your diary at the sound of the knock and alfred's voice.

"alfr-"

a cough, hoarse and croaky, cuts you out from calling his name. it was accompanied by uncontrollable sniffles, mucus blocking your nose from breathing properly. your room was dark, save for the lamp that lights up your bedside, where you currently were seated on your bed to write another entry, grip on your pen unknowingly harsh. you didn't even have to look at your reflection from your phone laying beside the diary to know that hiding your tears were fruitless.

salty were the crystalline droplets that streaks your face, but bitter were the emotions that had your heart ache.

you hear a sigh from the other room. before he could muster a reply, you beat him to it.

"i'm not eating dinner, alfred," you hate hearing your voice, sounding so obviously scrathy from the hours of wailing. "at least not with them. i don't want to get out at all."

"then may i at least bring them over to you, master (name)?"

his answer was final, you have no choice on retaliating and starving yourself like you did for the past few days. but it wasn't your fault that you had forgotten your body's needs. it wasn't your fault that your mind blanks itself out on the dinner table. it wasn't your fault that bile quickly crawls up your throat at hearing their voices.

you simply lost your appetite seeing them happy without you.

alfred pennyworth would never play favorite.

it was drilled into his head ever since he had sworn to serve the wayne family and its extended members— he is to serve anyone and everyone, regardless if they respect him or they do not; as long as they do not pose any danger within the manor, then he is to attend to them.

you'd think that in his decades of service for the wayne's - with all the contrasting personalities he had to deal with - he would maintain professional standards and tell everybody in the world, "i, of course, do not favor anyone within the family, i live to serve and that is truth." when in fact, he wouldn't hesistate to admit that he does, in actuality, have a favorite.

and no, it wouldn't be the eldest child, dick grayson, as much as he is alfred's pride and joy, nor would it be the youngest, damian wayne, who had been slowly correcting his mistakes. it wouldn't even be the head of the house, master bruce.

it would be you, (name) wayne, the infamous, yet forgetten child of the wayne family.

it wouldn't be a far fetch for alfred to admit that you weren't like the others. in all of the years that he served the wayne's, you were a contrast of the family.

the first few hours that he had picked you up from the police department upon the news of bruce's secret child, he knew you were more than just a child raised by the brutal streets of gotham.

you pose secrets that speak of the underground.

he remembers your seated form on the stiff chair of the interrogation room, pose unnervingly straight, as if you had solidified yourself against the metal seat. your fingers were the only signs that showed life, twiddling with each other as if it's some form of distraction.

you stared at nothing.

not even at the police as your name was called for pick up.

it took merely a signature of confirmation to dictate the future years of your life.

what's left of your belongings were given to alfred. the police officer, a woman with a kind smile then had to walk across the interrogation table to pat your back, gesturing for you to stand up and follow her and alfred on the way outside of the station, where the car was parked.

you hadn't uttered a word nor snapped out of your dreamlike gaze. not even when you were greeted with a thousand clicks of the cameras, the buzzing crowd that drowns the police station, or the hundreds of voices that yell at you to look at them.

(name) (last name), now formally adopted by bruce wayne, would be (name) wayne. it wouldn't be a shock that your sudden appearance as the child of a scandalous relationship between a prostitute and a billionaire would cause immense reactions. news would be spreading left and right, most of which were negative on your side.

he had to shield you from the crowd of photographers and journalists itching their way to the crowd to get a glance on you.

yet you didn't display any discomfort. you had only sat on the car obediently, fastening your seatbelts robotically and ignoring the lenses that unsettlingly tried to poke through the car windows to take pictures of you.

you were more like batman than you were bruce.

alfred had tried to get you communicate with questions like, "how are you over there, master (name)?" yet you would only mumble unintelligible responses to his questions without any ounce of emotion. he had to look at the rear view mirror to take in your stiff form. again, your eyes were set on nothing, even if they were casted down on the carpeted floorboards of the car.

when he had first met bruce, that child was overflowing with anger and vengeance for his parent's killer, yet you, who refused to explain your mother's disappearance, are devoid of anything.

the silence was defeaning throughout the ride. the only comfort that was provided was the rain that began to patter against the glass windows.

alfred throught you would retain the same behavior the entire day.

yet it was only when you first walked up the steps of the manor did your demeanor change, fingers immediately reaching up to hold the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling it as if you were hesitant to step in.

the first emotion you had shown him was concern, like a switch had flickered you out of your trance. it was the first time in a while that alfred had to do a double take to check if what was happening was real.

"can you... hold my hand?" and it was the first time he had heard you speak, voice unnaturally scratchy from the lack of water. you stared at him with wide, doe eyes that refused to blink, waiting for answers. alfred had to gaze at your entire body to finally notice that you were covered head to toe in sloppy bandages with blood seeping through the grime-filled gauze. your shoes were worn, your clothes were ripped, and other uncovered scars littered your body.

the most conspicuous color on your shirt was crimson red.

yet you do not display pain.

a child, five years of age, had been through more than enough anguish to know how to block their pain out.

you were unlike the rest, truly, you were unwavering of the world's cruelty.

the world does not deserve someone like you.

alfred takes it in himself to always hold your hand after that.

through the mansion doors, inside the kitchen, on your way to school; whenever and wherever, as long as he had time.

even if it were filled with scars and bruises, dirt and grime, he will always hold your hand if it meant guiding you through the darkness of the manor.

you may not consider yourself bruce's child, but you will always be alfred's.

another knock on your door had you snapping out of your trance. time passed by so quickly in the manor. well, it does when you have nothing to do but stare at your diary, draw on your sketchbook or scroll through your phone. yet time would always be the quickest whenever you drown in your own misery.

"come in," you croak out, aware that it would only be alfred who would come by your room. it was long ago since you had given up on awaiting for dick's visits.

a turn of the knob, then the door swings quietly; the hinges creak, you need them oiled sooner. alfred walks in, you notice he holds a tray that contains two cupcakes and a plate of your favorite dish, but you don't notice the small box with a bow hidden skillfully from the back of the tray. from over your seat, you could already smell the aromatic herbs that flutter in the room and see the colorful frosting from both cupcakes; an already lit candle sticking in from one.

the candle at least provides just a split second of light inside your dim room; the moonlight just like your family, absent.

alfred graciously places the tray on your nightstand, on the left of your diary. your room was still too silent.

you could only hear yourself.

"master (name), are you simply going to sit there and stare? or would you rather i spoonfeed you like i had when you had broken your wrist?"

you blink it out again, oblivious to your very own hyperawareness. alfred's still here. you hope that, in the presence of darkness, he wouldn't see just how much of a mess you are. how your hands could barely grip onto anything, hair unwashed, face stained with tears, difficulty breathing through the buildup of mucus, foot tapping up and down erratically— you wished he would pretend to be blind about your suffering for just this once.

"no—" came your sudden reply, "i can- yeah, i can eat by myself."

it's harder to lie to yourself than it is to others.

he looks at you with doubt, it makes you shiver.

despite you wishing for company inside the manor, you could never be used to attention. it would never be normal for someone like you. though, you wish it was. you wish you never hesitated when someone gives you attention.

you hear your mattress creak, there's a dip on your bed. alfred sits beside you, only then did you realize just how quickly you lean into his side, craving for warmth in the solace of your empty room.

everything hurts, it truly does.

you wish you were strong enough to cease the sudden burst of tears when his one hand circles your shoulder and the other holds the cupcake with a candle near your face. and you wish that you weren't so weak in the presence of another, trying to find a semblance of your worth in their attention.

you at least try to stifle your sobs—

"happy birthday, master (name)."

— but you were always weak, yet alfred never seems to mind, patting your back to console you from your wailing.

you blow the fire out with a single promise to yourself, crying a bit more when alfred had given you a gift box, laced with a ribbon of your favorite color.

it was one of the few gifts you would cherish, fondness seeping into the cracks of your heart.

though it wouldn't erase the bitterness that fills your being either way, knowing your family is still downstairs, unaware of the anguish the torment that they have put you through— it's still enough to let you hate alfred a little less.

"alfred?"

it was your meek voice, one that was always drowned out by the sound of the dishes clanking.

"yes, master (name)?" yet alfred could always strain out the sound of anything just to hear your talk. after all, you were a silent kid throughout your childhood.

"—if i move out of this place; would promise you wouldn't forget about me?"

... (name) wayne was full of surpises.

even at the ripe age of seventeen, and in the near fourteen years of raising you, alfred could never predict your words nor your actions.

you had always said things spontaneously, carrying an aura of awkwardness in your tone, reminiscent of someone who had their personal growth (moreover their social life) stunted.

but now, with the way you had said your resolve so confidently, it felt like he was looking at a different version of you; all the more confident and resilient.

except... you were behind him when you had said that - so he wasn't really looking at you - eating the first batch of his cookies whilst he was polishing the dishes with a cloth.

when he had turned around to look at you, though, you were still the socially inept child he knows and love, sitting on the breakfast bar and twirling around the stool as you attempt to not get crumbs everywhere. you were still so young in his eyes.

it's just, the way you had looked at him expectedly like you needed his approval that shocked him. it was always your eyes that had expressed the most emotions, glazing with anticipation for his response.

he knows it when you lie, and right now, you were dead serious in your resolve.

alfred had to relax the crease on his brows before he ages faster than he already is.

"well, master (name)," he continues, turning back to wiping the dishes clean before he could fully face you. "i would fully support you in your... journey, but what warranted you to be suddenly motivated on moving out?"

alfred had finished setting aside the dishes, but he still doesn't look back.

"i mean, i thought i already told you? i have a scholarship for college but it's on the other side of gotham and...

— i kind of don't want to be chauffeured by a limo around the campus everyday, you know? so the next best thing is to get a dorm."

alfred knows it when you lie. and right now, your hesitance tells him everything he needs to know.

you may have proved a point, but that point was an entire lie. with a person name wayne flaunting across a city whilst riding a limousine, you might find yourself into more trouble than anything else.

but he had always been the one to pick you up and drop you off from elementary and halfway through your highschool life— and you never seemed to mind until now.

it doesn't take a genius to know that you had already deviced a full plan of moving out and taken it into action; all you had to do was confront the only man in the manor who had cared about you enough to raise you about your worries.

it wasn't enough to convince him to let you go, though, especially not right after an incident that had occured prior to you highschool life. if he allows you to gain independence in gotham, he wouldn't know how long you would last.

but when he looks back at you again, he couldn't bring it in himself to oppose to your whims. you need a new environment; one that provides you a way to gain independence and, most preferably, social skills. staying cooped up in a manor with barely anybody talking to you does more harm than good.

and being ignored by your own family for almost fourteen years wouldn't be a great way to celebrate your already nearing eighteenth birthday.

alfred doesn't want to admit it, but if he keeps you here any longer, you would never grow up. one person could only do so much.

he whips out a sigh, looking at you with resignation in his eyes. but you know it in yourself that he swears his life on the promise.

"master (name)," he walks over to you, eyes darting at the cookie crumbs that litter around your mouth making a note to scold you on your manner later. he sits directly in front of you, hand patting your head as you merely stare at him expectedly.

"i have raised you for almost fourteen years, it's like you are my very own child. i would never forget you." he takes your hands in his. "but you have to also promise me to stay safe out there, master (name). call me once you're there."

alfred would find a way to get you to come back eventually, even if it meant utilizing your family's neglect, which was primarily the reason why you had moved out on the first place.

he just hopes you wouldn't connect the dots and pin the blame on him once you're back and safe in the manor.

and now, it had only been months since you had gotten away from the manor. he was proud of your development, of your choice and overall, you, but he wouldn't lie and say he doesn't miss you.

he misses hearing your voice directly, the line on the phone being too blotchy to properly hear you. he misses it when he would sit on your bed as your only audience whilst he watches you paint on your canvases, drawling on and on about highschool's latest drama. he misses it when you would always be the first to taste his dishes, face lighting up whenever the food was seasoned up; now he has to constantly remind you to eat a nutritious diet, even offering to send you money whenever you mention you were short on it.

in the good of your heart, you would always decline, even going as far to deny him of any liberty to track you down and bring you a meal himself.

alfred misses you.

does he regret allowing you your freedom? not really, no. but he knows it in himself that a greedy part of him prefers it if you were would visit the manor occasionally during your vacations, at least to bond with him. but you simply chose not to, even going as far to legally change your name once you had become eighteen so you wouldn't be associated with your father's last name.

but that wouldn't erase the past you had tried to meticulously cover.

(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid leaving a police station and entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.

and most importantly, you are a product of a one-night-stand.

but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.

your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.

you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.

it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.

the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.

after all, your freedom is your doom.

the wayne manor, in all its glory, could only be described as this palace overflowing his its abundant history and fame.

it was a castle that houses a boy who had lost his parents and became gotham's very own vigilante who stalks through the night to lessen the very evil that devours its citizens. it was the training grounds where the robins, sidekicks dressed in colorful attire, opposite to batman, were raised to be worthy enough to stand by the dark knight's side. but most importantly, it was a home for troubled children who were in their journey of their very own personal struggles.

yet even in its exterior splendour, it would always be innately overcome with loneliness.

for someone like bruce wayne, he embraces this desolation just as he embraces his alter-ego, batman, who wears a suit of black and dons an aura that demanded fear.

even if he carries the persona of 'brucie wayne' a ditsy, playboy who enjoys galas and sleeping with women every other night, he prefers solitude over the sea of interviewers who throng around him like he was a piece of meat.

it would be the only time he could focus on his countless of stacked paperworks to sign and his plans to ransack another criminal's master plan.

before winter could cover gotham in its sheet of pure, white coldness, rain would always terrorize the skies. he finds this the perfect atmosphere; dark grey clouds prevent the sun from peaking through, droplets of rain would pelt against the vast windows that surrounds his study, and there was enough background noise to block out any sounds that would pass through the door.

bruce wayne was focused on his work, and that meant disturbance wasn't allowed inside the manor. thankfully, it was a quiet, uneventful afternoon today.

in fact, it was all too abnormally quiet.

his scarred hands work through signing papers effiently and effortlessly, practiced fingers signing papers after he would meticulously scan over the paragraphs of texts that scale from business deals to partnerships to buying a piece of land. then later, once the moon rises, he would have to patrol with damian and disrupt another drug trade that had been recently dealing with children on the alleys of gotham.

that means he has to sign or reject at least half of the papers before evening falls through, so he could have alfred send them over through the post office tomorrow morning.

he was at least a quarter way through his work, though, when his flow was disrupted by a courteous knock by the mahogany doors.

he didn't have to look up or ask who it was, knowing it was alfred, his butler.

"master bruce, i have your tea ready, along with news to bare," bruce could hear the tone of urgency and a tinge of sullenness in alfred's voice. it was rare for alfred to be emotionally distressed, as he was typically the most composed out of everyone in the family.

"come on in, alfred," bruce's vocal chords were gruff, raspy whenever he's too engrossed in whatever he was doing.

but he was piqued at the news alfred was eager to share, the butler expertly turning the knob and entering with a tray that holds a hot serving of tea.

bruce stopped signing the papers, putting down his pen as he watches alfred, composed as always, place the tray down on his desk, not a single clank that was produced from the metal sheets. he watches as alfred reflexively pours him a cup of tea.

it was only after that action that the two share eye contact, alfred stationing himself to the right of bruce's desk.

if he wasn't a detective, he wouldn't have noticed the furrow of alfred's brows, which was uncharacteristic of the composed butler.

he reckons he should address the elephant in the room.

"what is it that you want to tell me, alfred?" bruce swivels his chair to face alfred, fingers tapping the mahogany desk rhythmically.

"master bruce, i figured you should have known this for quite a long time ago, but your third child had moved out on their own and now lives at the opposite side of gotham. right now, they may have been struggling to make ends meet."

huh?

"what do you mean, alfred? you're aware that tim is currently living in the manor—"

"no, master, i am talking about your third, not fourth child; master (name)."

... (name)?

ah, his... other child.

alfred looks at his seated form, expecting the befuddled reaction from bruce.

it doesn't take long for bruce to recover from his thoughts, eyebrows furrowed the same way as alfred as he leans against his chair.

"and what of (name)? why was i not updated about them?"

alfred had to stifle a groan as he then glares at bruce with what he could suppose was exasperation.

"i had already told you about their leave months ago, master bruce. you had simply waved me off whenever the topic is of master (name)." the butler's glare hardened, reminiscent of the times where bruce was scolded as a child. and like a child, he doesn't know what he had done wrong.

"i feel it is time for you to take it into your hands to deal with master (name)'s situation right now. i do not have access to their location and just like you, they are stubborn and refuse to accept any financial aid that comes to them in any form—"

to make matters worse, alfred had the gall to stop midway into his explanation, sighing and blinking unnervingly which catches more than bruce's attention.

"they would rather not admit it, but if they were to fail to pay for this month's rent of their apartment, they would get evicted from their very own living space."

at pretty much the last sentence, bruce's gaze hardened. not at alfred, no, but at the thought of you; his... forgotten child. if it was money that you need, why had you not ask for any allowance in the first place? bruce would admit that, well, it had been too long since he had last seen your face, nor even... remember it—

but you were still a child of his and he wouldn't deny you of an allowance if it meant persuing your... highschool or college dreams...?

shit, what grade are you in?

why didn't he know you moved out in the first place? wait—

"alfred, how long has it been since they had last moved out?"

"roughly six or seven months ago, master."

"ah, but having a place of your own as a minor would be prohibited by law."

"master bruce, they're eighteen. they're old enough to live in their own apartment."

eighteen years old...? how long had it been since he had last seen or heard of you? if what alfred had said was true, that the butler had attempted to reach out to him about you, then why had he not remember in the first place? you were a quiet kid, sure, but for someone like bruce, people would always not be overlooked.

it wasn't in him to easily forget, but he hates how he couldn't muster up a single memory of your face— not even your hair color nor your eyes. did you even... exist in his eyes? there was not a single memory of you that he could come up in his head.

his child was eighteen now, how could he not have known in the first place? how could he not recollect a single birthday of yours? or any celebration or gala that had you in it?

alfred's sigh snapped him out of his trance once more.

bruce looked up, seeing resignation upon alfred's face. he simply stood there, posture straight as always, but bruce couldn't wash away the shame that cages his heart when there was not a single image of you that pops up in his mind— alfred's disappointment merely worsened

the tea in his desk had long since gone untouched, but bruce couldn't bring it in himself to drink a single drop of it, even if his lips were dried and his throat was begging for even a single droplet of water.

he denies himself of any relief.

"i figure i should leave you in your own, master bruce, to at least compose yourself before nightfall. please do take your child into consideration, though, enough time has passed since you have last seen them." alfred states, as if it was a matter of fact. and it was, bruce should've known about your leave, as your father and as the man who took you in, he should've.

so before the butler could even take a step, bruce hastily stands up from his seat, pen long since discarded on his desk and a quarter of the papers are now messily stacked upon each other, but bruce pays them no mind.

"take me to (name)'s room right now, i need to see things for myself."

if bruce couldn't even remember a single instance of you, then maybe a trip to your room would be enough for him to remember.

but if that doesn't work then... bruce would a find a way, he always would.

and as your father, he needs to at least support you, even financial no matter your stubbornness? even if the shame he feels right now is so immensely disturbing, and the migraine is quickly finding its way into his head— he needs to know more about you, his actual third child.

bruce wayne needs to see your face just once.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 5k+ words. no beta, we die like jason todd with a crowbar. my least favorite part of writing the chapter is literally starting it. i had at least 5 drafts all lined up and it took me an hour in the bed to think about how should i start it. i literally hope you guys enjoy the chapter hehe, and start to yk, notice the patterns and the parallels between your perspective and bruce's perspective bec ur literally his child, u guys share some habits even if u never once talked to him lmao. the most emotionally draining scene was writing the birthday scene, i had to take breaks from typing it out hehe. bruce's descent to yandere-ism isn't as quick as dick's but it would be worst in the next chapter.

also, i hope you guys are able to notice the bad habits that the reader eventually collects because it's important for the next chapters. it would be better if anyone of u could... point them out in my asks or comments, i love rambling about it yk, and a lot of you are absolutely brilliant in making theories that are absolutely right. anyways, i hope u enjoy this chapter because this was one hell of a ride for me and i appreciate all the reblogs and comments despite me not replying to a lot of yall but u guys truly are my motivation so thank u lots :(((<33!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa, @maicenitas, @ilovvmyhusband, @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony, @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts, @darling006, @starringyau, @rosecentury, @jaythes1mp, @pi1nkl0ver, @i-thirsty-boi, @sharks-r-cool-l, @silverklaus, @samanthathanes, @traumaramacenter, @maddimoon, @anxrq, @thedarknesslord, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @lazy-idate, @googeecat44, @simpingfor-wakasa, @zvghfgn, @0patito0 (if i had forgotten to put any of u in a taglist please forgive me, it's hard to keep track !!)

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redflagshipwriter · 1 month ago

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Cupid is Wanted for Questioning Chapter 4

Masterpost

Their strange bonding episode hung in a waiting breath. Father came by to confirm that they were alive, not laid low by their falsified digestive ailment.

“We are alive,” Damian said from the squashy chair, trying to verbally push the meddler out the door to his bleak office job. “We shall survive.”

“I think we can pull through one day in your well-stocked mansion,” Brown concurred nasally, from her tactical posting underneath a cushion. The device muffled her voice. She dug her arm out to point with her long fingers at the side table which Alfred had already stocked with beverages and nutritious rations.

Father touched the doorframe and his brow furrowed. “Alfred has appointments to keep. You’ll be alone for hours. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home?”

Brown pulled the pillow down just enough to reveal her eyes. “You let the two of us fight crime together,” she pointed out.

His lips twitched. “You didn’t have a cold then,” Father protested, but his mood seemed a little lighter. He took his phone out. “Call or message me anytime, okay? If you need anything at all or if your condition worsens. I’ll keep the volume on.”

Damian snorted. “Good day,” he said firmly. He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to convey that he was prepared to get up and physically push Father from the house if necessary.

Father left.

An hour later, Pennyworth left as well on his worthy and unknown pursuits. As soon as the dust had settled from his departure down the gravel driveway, the two detectives were on the move.

Several minutes later, they were in the room with the ancient viewing device. Brown had clearly done her research. She expertly operated the device. Damian hung back and allowed her to be the leading expert on old person activities, as she was significantly more advanced in age and deserved his respect on that count. She did something arcane that made the device spin rapidly inside the driver, black tape whirring from one side of the VHS to the other.

“You have ancient wisdom,” Damian complimented her.

She side eyed him. “Thanks, D.”

He scowled at her from underneath his plush blanket cape. There was no call for such rudeness.

Unfortunately it was impossible to perform a binary search with the device, as they didn’t know what would show on screen at all. Therefore, they started by finding the footage of Damian’s encounter.

Damian held his breath as the villain came into focus. He bobbed and weaved through the crowded cafeteria, ostentatious and dramatic in his movements. It was, perhaps, playful? He seemed to be dancing. No one looked at him. Upon more than one occasion, Damian would swear on his mother’s honor that the fool had jangled through another person. Density shifting, perhaps?

“That guy?” Brown pointed at the potential villain himself.

Excellent!

“Can he be seen by anyone on footage, or is there something about your perception that aligns with mine?” Damian burst out. “We must make a copy and show it to another person to gather information.”

“Roger that, baby Boss.” Brown snapped a photo of the screen.

“I do not command infants,” Damian corrected her. “And this is no cherub to be controlled by any charm you or I might possess.” He scowled at the screen, lost in thought. The cupid shot their foolish arrow, smirked, and disappeared.

“I can’t believe Jason didn’t notice that,” Brown muttered. “That’s so far up his alley. If anyone should have run after Cupid shooting bullets or asking for a boo, it would be him.”

Damian opened his mouth to correct her that the mall was very far indeed away from the alleys of Crime, but realized in time that this was perhaps some jest or metaphor. He shut his mouth to hide his ignorance.

“Wait.” Brown scrambled for the remote.

He went tense. “What is it?” Damian demanded. He stood up. His blanket fell down.

“Rewinding- look.” Brown stopped the video and jabbed the screen with a finger. “This kid, red sweatshirt.”

Damian squinted. The child was alone, dirty, and in the middle of stealing a wallet from a uniformed police officer when Brown had paused the video. “I do not think it is advisable to pursue him, but if you are insistent then we can go to his home and give him a very stern lecture about target selection. If he has one.”

“No, no.” Brown waved that off. “I think he knows what he’s doing. What I want you to see is this.” She restarted the video. Damian watched as the urchin slipped the wallet into his pants pocket, turned, and visibly startled before whirling around to look at the crowd again, looking stressed.

Damian furrowed his eyebrows. Why? Why had he jumped, he was only facing a shop window–

“He saw the villain’s reflection!”

“That’s it!” Brown crowed along with him. “Yes!” She pumped the air. “He sees Cupid’s reflection after you point him out. Cupid is invisible to you, but just look.” She traced the urchin’s sightlines. “He can clearly see something, he is watching what would have been Cupid’s expected path through the crowd.”

“You do not receive enough credit for your wiles,” Damian complimented Brown. Her eyes glittered with victory, pleased by his approval. “This means that I am not the only witness.” Damian clenched his fist. Vindication. “Is there a way to identify this person and track them down for an interview without opening our investigation to other parties?”

Brown sucked in air through her teeth. “If we put the still into the Batcomputer, someone else will catch it the next time they’re bored and going through the recent files. Bruce, Tim, maybe Dick. So that’s out. I know there’s privacy workarounds, but I definitely don’t know them…” She grimaced. Her tone turned a little hopeless and morose. “Neither one of us has a personal system we can access, unless there’s something you have access to…?”

She trailed off.

Damian hid a wince. She was covertly referring to his mother. “No,” he lied. If Mother realized that he was investigating on his own, she may retain the information to use in her battle of wills and wits with Father and share it at a personally opportune time. “So we require assistance from one of the more established figures.”

Grim indeed.

Resources outside of Gotham would hardly be helpful.

Every option was terrible.

Todd was extremely trickable and would not tattle on them, but he also would not notice a woman being shot with love in front of his addlepated face, so there was no purpose in asking for his assistance.

Richard could achieve it, but he would shoulder his way into the investigation.

Pennyworth was an expert with the surveillance systems and could surely hide their work from Father, but his time was too valuable to use on tracking a mythological demon such as Cupid.

Cain and Thomas did not possess any more Batcomputer proficiency or resources than Brown and Damian had.

Father was unthinkable, he was extremely bothersome and blundering and smothering.

Damian sunk to the bottom of a lake of despair. He forced himself to the surface long enough to make his most important stance clear:

“Drake is obviously the last resort among last resorts.”

“Oh, for sure,” Brown agreed, fire in her eyes. “He got Santa. He doesn’t get Cupid.”

“We may have to…” Damian fought the urge to make a face of disgust. “Go to the top, as it were.”

“You might have to fly with the other birds,” Brown said. Her tone said that she was sympathetic. Her demeanor revealed the lie: she was amused by his turmoil. Wretch. “Barbara will do that for me, but it’ll make it one of her operations. Can your ego handle that?”

Damian bristled. “I had defeated the weakness of egotism as a toddler,” he spat. Honestly. “I can work with anyone, no matter how loathsome or quarrelsome.”

Brown squinted at him. “...You mean as a hypothetical, because Barbara is an absolute delight.”

He gritted his teeth. “A guiding light to all who know her,” Damian lied, because he understood the ghastly necessity of diplomacy.

“You’re going to wear down your molars doing that,” Brown informed him. “Alright. I’ll tell her that you want to fall at her feet in supplication.” At his appalled expression she shrugged and put her hands up. “She has done all the free favors for me that I’m going to get! We don’t have anything that she wants, and we definitely don’t want her ire.”

“That is correct,” Damian agreed. He was already so weary. He felt as though he might legitimately have been struck low by a physical illness. The concept of lowering himself to request benevolence from the witch in her electric tower made his stomach twist with nausea. Would she once again attempt to ruffle his hair? He may yet weep. “Very well.” Damian took a deep breath. “We will fall upon her mercy.”

#red young lovers #dead serious #dp x dc #dc x dp

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daddysfangirls-dc · 4 months ago

Text

The Arrangement

Ch 3 Meet the Butler (Grandfather)

Damian Wayne x OC!Female

Prev | Next

After breakfast, everyone disburst to their respective duties for the day, leaving only Damian and Alfred home. And with the events of the previous night Damian was relieved to be left alone. On one hand he didn't want to deal with the many questions and assumptions and on the other hand he wished to speak with Alfred alone.

"Alferd"

"Damian"

"Do you wish to meet her?"

"... I'd very much like to meet your fiance," with emphasis on the word Fiance.

"She's free this afternoon."

"I'm sure your father-"

"The invitation was only extended to you."

Alfred stood silent for a moment. Only a moment. " Very well."

Learning she was compromised, she quickly left, taking any evidence of her presence. At Damian's insistence, she made plans to leave the city before nightfall but after she met with Alfred.

She was very excited to meet Alfred. Damian held him in high regard, higher than anyone else, and thought of him as a grandfather. His approval and acceptance were more important than anyone else's. (She believed it all stemmed from how he used to idolize Ra. Alfred was a much better role model.) He had all of Damian's respect, and with everything he had shared with her, she knew he deserved it. She was very excited to meet Damian's Grandfather.

She was also very nervous as if he thought little of her or thought she was unfit for him. She had no doubt the relationship would cease or continue, but she struggled a great deal. She didn't want either of those, so she had to make a good first impression. He needed to like her.

That is why she is currently sitting in a small tea house in the city. She is aware of Alfred's taste for tea and figures he likes it. And if he doesn't, well, this isn't his regular tea house, and they would never come back. She sat up straight as the bell rang, and she stood up as Damian stepped inside, with Alfred following.

"Hello, Mr. Pennyworth. It is nice to finally meet you," she said as she bowed before him.

"It's nice to meet you as well finally, Miss?"

"Syn, Syn Minamoto Sir. Damian has told me so much about you."

"All good things, I hope," he said, glancing at Damian as he pulled out their chairs.

"I wasn't aware there were any bad."

"There aren't," Damian said as he sat beside her.

"He's too kind".

The waitress came, taking their orders before leaving them alone once again.

"Ms. Minamoto, tell me about yourself?" the integration begins.

"As Damian has told you, we were arranged. My family is similar to the Al Ghul clan in some skills and values, but my family isn't trying to dominate or take over the world. They quite like their position." she quickly corrected herself at the end when she saw the skepticism on his face.

"And do you have the same values as your family?" she looks at Damian for a moment, and nervously wipes her hands on her dress. A green dress that he had picked out for her.

"In my Clan, family, and blood is very important, and I believe the same. My clan is okay with... killing. Blood will spill if it makes things easier or gets the job done. While I am more than able, I consider it the last option. When all else fails, when it is necessary. I know your family doesn't-"

"I have values different from those of my son. I do not believe that everyone deserves life. Nor am I against taking one."

"Alferd was in the serves before he came to work for the family."

"And I served my queen well," he said with a smile. The waitress came with their order, and they waited until she was gone before continuing their conversation. " What brings you to our city?"

"Damian," she spoke without thinking and then blushed when she realized. Damian blushed as well. "I just wanted to see him, be with him even for a little while. Letters and phone calls aren't always enough. Not that your efforts weren't appreciated, but they very much were." Damian took her hand, squeezed it, and gave her a small smile. Letters were nothing compared to actually hearing each other, and calling was nothing compared to feeling each other. It was rare that they were never in each other's presence. They always treated it as something precious, as it was.

"Don't you two make a handsome couple"

Their meeting lasted about two hours before Syn had to depart. She left quickly, promising to stay in communication with both of them.

"Your father isn't going to be happy about this," Alfred said, glancing at Damian from the side. He chose to sit up with him on the way home this time.

"Did you like her?" he ignores his previous statement.

"She's lovely-"

"Alfred," he sighs

"She cares about you. She is kind and has a soft heart but is not weak. She's strong."

"Strong enough to survive our family?"

"I don't know"

Damian closes his eyes and leans his head back. "I don't care what he thinks or feels. Any of them. I'm not going to let her be ambushed and villainized for a profession I myself took part in at a time, and Red Hood still takes part in. Or affiliations which Red Hood, Red Robin, Cain, and myself have. It's uncalled for and unfair." he says

"Your father isn't going to like this," Alfred warns

"Unfortunate for him," Alfred takes a deep breath, " I don't actually care."

"Today's action will have consequences."

"Let them come."

#dc comics #dc universe #fanfiction #robin #batman #damian al ghul #damian wayne #fanfic #damian wayne fanfiction #damian wayne fanfic #damian wayne x oc #damian wayne al ghul #damian al ghul x oc #the arrangement

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pinkiedevv · 2 months ago

Text

Fanart of Ch. 1

@gromov-hausdorff drew this abosofrigginLUTELY GORGOS work - I've added it to pt. 3 of my series MOD Harry Potter, and I am in LOVE, LOVE, LOOOOVE

Featuring cutie patootie Harry Potter and GILF Alfred Pennyworth

"Harry’s lips couldn’t help but part as one of the gentleman’s fine, silvery strands of hair fell free from its perfectly coiffed, gelled back position, and a muted flush rose to his cheeks as a weathered, neatly manicured hand rose to smoothly push the strand back in place as if nothing had ever been amiss at all."

#alfred pennyworth #harry potter #fanart #romance #batman #this is so good #i love this #i love them #art #artwork #shipping

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1donoow · 1 year ago

Text

DC REC

PT.2

......

♡ - smut

Most of them are fluff

......

<a/n>i somewhat explain why there's alot in my pin post

batmom

batfam

batsis

bruce wayne

garfield logan

Jason todd

alfred pennyworth

batmom

@batfam-imagines - things batmom has definitely said

@dc-x-readers - open door policy (young justice x batmom)

@morgansunflower - sleep well my precious robin

- busted

@battymommastuff - injury

- hey mom (titan)

- that's my mom (amazonian!reader)

@timetravelassasin - mom us an assassin

@blackcupidangel - motherhood

@bluebellhairpin - video tapes

- what they call batmom

@kimberly-spirits13 - saving the day (scarlet witch!batmom)

@xxgoblin-dumplingxx - batmom cleaning jason up after his first time as robin

@xoxo-mylove - i hate that soothing voice(dick grayson)

- new beginnings (jason todd)

@dragon-chica - batmom

———————————————————————

batfam

@butwhyduh - ___

@riotlain - batboy's s/o giving small gifts to them

@kayadrake123 - batboys x famous reader

———————————————————————

batsis

@current-interest-writings - nicknames a family tradition

@alessabriel - y/n wayne!venom (male reader)

@detectivemarvelingcomics - not your classic vigilante ch.2

@kimberly-spirits13 - batsibling with black panther suit/ persona

@flying-nightwing - life lesson (never kidnap a wayne kid)

———————————————————————

bruce wayne

@catxsnow - let's have a baby

@ellabxrnes - hypnotist

@invisibleanonymousmonsters - trauma (daughter!reader)

@headcans-oneshots-and-stuff - lost,found and consequences (toddler!reader)

@dragon-chica - faithful couple

———————————————————————

garfield logan

@busylickingsatansballs - pretty kitty

@hobiiwan - ___

@gangrenados - ___

- morning hc

@wondergotham - Being Best Friends w/Conner & Gar

@multifandomimaginesworld - dating gar logan would include

@ghostdrafts - gar logan dating headcannon

@kioelo - time

@idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 - you have a connection

@gars-jasons-gf - relationship hc pt.2

———————————————————————

jason todd

@ghost-soap - ___

@nightwings-circus - husband-zoned

@iheartdoll - jason todd hc

@cipheress-to-k-pop - curls

@a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all - perfect

@veronica-17-hood - ___

@s1ater - daddy's girl pt.1 (batsis)

@katsumox - jason todd headcannon

@rekiilysm - adore you

@redhoodedangel - scars that last (scarlet witch!reader)

@book-place - a day with jay (sister!reader)

@thebisexualdogdad - jason todd dating roy harper's brother

@ellana-ravenwood - draw me like one of your french boy

- A baby in the family

@kaleidoscopewritings19 - halloween special (black widow!reader)

@yourlocalcringydaydreamer - jason with autistic reader

@xxgoblin-dumplingxx - Jason resting his head on reader's ass

- jason seeing you in a swimsuit for the first time

- jason with baby fever

- jason todd being soft for his girlfriend

- jason loosing the reader in a store

- jason getting babied

- bruce disapproving of reader and jason's relationship until

- jason's reading glasses

- ___(gentle giant!jason)

>>>>>teddy!verse<<<<<

•teddy referring reader as mother for the first time •protective mama bear •dad!jason meeting his wife for the first time •bruce talking with teddy!verse reader •mother's day lunch •jason calling the reader ridiculous pet names

———————————————————————

alfred pennyworth

@lazydoodlesandfanfic - needing a cheer up (daughter!reader)

#masterlist #dc rec #batmom #batfam #batsis #bruce wayne x reader #garfield logan x reader #jason todd x reader #alfred pennyworth x reader

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vechter · 3 months ago

Note

who do you think bruce's heir is? who do you think it should be and who do you think HE thinks it is ygwim?

like, it doesnt have to be one kid, it can be different kids in terms of different things!!

ooooh i actually wrote a bit about this in LBIA. take a very raw snippet from ch 3. we love an unreliable narrator!

but to really answer, i think cass is my ideal heir but only in terms of the batman mantle. and even then, she would probably adapt it into something even better like the bat. as for the manor, wayne enterprises & associated paraphernalia, i don't think any of them would really want it but the idea of damian inheriting at least, the manor, is just way too fun to think about. it's about the haunted house and the inherited grief <3

as for who bruce thinks it should be, i think batgirl 2000 is a very good answer for who he wants to 'pass down the mantle' to or he envisions gotham's ideal future protector to be. i also think he knows dick well enough to understand that dick being batman in the event of his death would be the worst kind of martyred grief and self-flagellation and dick would hate it.

as for the other assets, i think there's canonical evidence of bruce saying sth about dick being the one to inherit waynecorp? i wanna say one of the vol 2 annuals but i'm not too sure. i think he would prolly just divide everything equally but make sure the manor gets left to alfred? such a confusing thing to consider bc doesn't the current batman run involve him losing his fortune, moving into pennyworth manor or whatever? who knows. dc sure doesn't.

but my very firm belief is that tim drake would maim himself before becoming full time ceo. i hate that trope. everyday i lament over all the misunderstandings red robin 2009 has caused. free that high school dropout from the shackles of a corporate career!

#this is not rlly an answer is it #sorry!!!#asks #writing tag

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dcmultiverse · 2 years ago

Photo

“You're not coming back?”

#dcedit #dcauedit #a: batman the doom that came to gotham #ch: bruce wayne #ch: alfred pennyworth #ch: cassandra cain #animated #gif #mine #by jus

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lothirielswandc · 1 year ago

Text

WE ALL PRETEND TO BE THE HEROES ON THE GOOD SIDE [VILLAIN, Ch. I]

Read on AO3 here!

— W A Y N E M A N O R —

The crescent moon was weak. The night’s soft smirk was useless against the shadows that slithered across the magnificent lawn. Blood-red skies were the only true light left; the death of the day.

Raven’s fingers trailed along the cool stone step. It was smooth; marble, not concrete. Knowing Alfred Pennyworth, the steps were probably clean enough to eat on, let alone sit on.

Warm gold light pooled across the steps as the doors creaked open. A shadow crept across the stone.

“Are you nervous?” the shadow asked. The voice was soft and deep. It’s usual demanding undertone was gone.

He sat down on the step beside her. Pine filled the air. Their knees brushed together. A small, delightful tremor ran through her body at the slightest touch.

His hand sought hers, quick to envelope it in warmth.

Raven shrugged, “A little, I suppose.”

“You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“You think I’m concerned for myself?” Raven met his emerald gaze. The green was darker in the dim light, its depths fathomless.

“I’ve met Constantine before,” he said.

Raven looked back at the dying sky. The blood was seeping away, fading to black. The birth of the night. Dread pooled in her stomach. Constantine had made his feelings clear before tonight.

‘He’s a menace! Everything that comes out of his mouth is an insult or a critique. He doesn't know the first thing about putting someone before himself.

‘I don't approve, love.’

His hand squeezing her made Raven look back.

“We don't have to do this if you don't want to,” he said.

Raven was shaking her head before he finished his sentence. “No. You’ve wanted to do this since we left. Besides, your mom is a part of your life.”

If Raven canceled, she feared that would send the wrong message. Looking cowardly wasn't her concern. Raven would not come between Talia al Ghul and her only son.

The heavy double doors opened once more. Alfred cleared his throat, “Master Wayne, Miss Roth, it's time.”

They stood as the butler added, “Last chance to run for the hills if need be.”

“Is that what you recommend, Alfred?” Raven smiled.

“I certainly would if I were you, Miss Roth.”

“Not funny, Pennyworth.” The stark utter beside Raven made Alfred chuckle.

They climbed the steps together. Light from inside chased the remnants of the night away. A hand stretched out towards Raven as she hesitated at the door.

“Ready to meet my parents?” Damian said.

Raven’s fingers slipped back into his, where they belonged. “As long as you can take mine.”

“Please. Zatanna’s infatuated with me,” Damian rolled his eyes.

“And King Shark still thinks you taste delicious,” she added.

“I prefer to keep that kind of commentary between us and no one else.”

They passed Alfred at the door and slipped inside. Raven didn't miss how the butler’s eyebrows were raised to his hairline.

Everyone had a baffled look on their faces recently. Raven always assumed it was because of her and her weirdness. Nowadays, she couldn't tell who the stare was meant for.

Damian’s hand held hers as they walked. The old-fashioned oil lamps along the walls filled the great entrance hall with warmth. Damian’s skin shone like bronze in the golden glow. He walked without the slightest hesitation; he didn't fear whatever the evening held.

“Depending on how the evening goes, I’ll tell them to do a closed casket,” Dick Grayson’s voice traveled across the parlor.

Dick stood at the bottom of the elegant staircase. Raven’s eyes started to travel down to Dick’s arm in a sling — she forced herself to look away. She focused on Koriand’r instead, who towered over Dick and everyone else. Kory’s great mane of curls shimmered like hungry flames as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

“I’m so happy for you! Meeting the parents is quite a show of intimacy, I’ve heard,” said Kory, clasping her hands together. Her tone made it sound like a compliment.

“Yeah, got that right,” Dick muttered. He shot what almost seemed like a questioning look at Damian.

Raven glanced at her shoes. She knew it was sudden. It had only been a week since they had returned from Europe. They stayed at Wayne Manor ever since.

In terms of gossip, a scandal probably lurked around the corner. But it was Batman’s family. As famous as they were, Bruce Wayne liked privacy. He kept to himself.

Catwoman was a different story.

“I’m truly joyful that you both have this,” Kory beamed at Raven and Damian. Her glowing green eyes settled on Raven, “and I’m happy we have more ties to one another. That we’ll always be connected…”

If we’re not connected by the Titans, Raven finished her sentence silently. Raven still hadn't forgotten the conversation Kory and Zatanna had in her head about whether the Titans were a good fit for Raven. Or, rather, if Raven was a good fit for them .

“You’ll have to tell me how tonight goes at our next double date!” Kory said. “Maybe we’ll get fondue…? I’ve heard mini-golf is a popular pastime!”

Dick stifled a laugh as Damian’s face froze with horror, “That sounds like a great idea, babe.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “Miss Roth? Your death awaits — ahem , excuse me. I have a toad in my throat. Your dinner party awaits.”

Damian glared at the butler.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Raven said. She resisted the urge for her lips to curve up and failed.

They followed Alfred down a gothic-style corridor. The scent of expensive wood polish and old-fashioned oil lamps simmered in the air.

Alfred slowed his pace, lingering at Raven’s unoccupied side. His voice dropped to a murmur, “If, by some particular matter, you must leave early tonight due to unforeseen difficulties, I have arranged a rope outside the far right window of the room, for a quick departure.”

“Pennyworth!”

“All in jest, little master, all in jest,” Alfred raised a gloved hand to cover his mouth from Damian’s sight and mouthed the words, no it's not .

“You know I can teleport, right?” said Raven.

“Yes. And Mr. Wayne is Batman. And I punched Superman in the face. We all have our talents, Miss Roth. But it’s best to have backup plans.” Alfred faced forward after that, resuming his quick pace ahead.

Raven glanced at Damian. He frowned at the butler’s back.

“You pay him enough, right?” she asked.

“I have my own townhouse in Paris,” Alfred said.

Damian sighed.

They reached the double doors to their doom — the dining room (Alfred’s commentary was wearing off on her). The butler paused at the entrance, casting one last pointed look at Raven.

“Open the door, Pennyworth,” Damian said.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Azarath Metrion Zinthos.”

“That's three, little master. Not one.”

It took all of Raven’s willpower not to laugh on the spot. She squeezed Damian’s hand, feeling his deep urge to not obey Alfred.

So stubborn . Raven turned away from Alfred. She leaned up on her toes and whispered in Damian’s ear, “You know I’ll still find you attractive if you're nice to him.”

The deep force of opposition emitted from him wavered, but it was still intact.

“I could show you how attractive I think you are…later,” her lips brushed against the bottom of his earlobe, “if you behave.”

“Please,” Damian blurted the word.

Raven sank back onto her heels. When she faced Alfred, he was staring at her like he had just witnessed divine interference.

“You truly are magical, Miss Roth.”

“I know.”

Alfred bowed his head. “I hope you survive. You’d make an interesting addition to this family.”

He turned away and threw the double doors open wide.

Dining room was a modest description. Dining hall fit better. A long table was stretched beneath a massive map of Gotham on the high ceilings. Long enough to house all of the children Bruce Wayne had adopted.

Three were already seated at the table.

Raven let Damian lead as she took them in. Bruce and Selina Kyle sat side by side along the edge. Selina’s gaze trickled down Raven. It always lingered at the gem embedded to her forehead, which Raven tried to hide lately with bangs. Her eyes sliced across the rest of her, as if preparing quips critiquing her fashion choice and goth tendencies.

Raven’s eyes shifted to the head of the table, where an even more penetrating stare cut across the room.

“My son,” Talia al Ghul rose like the night seeping up to embrace the moon. She moved across the room swifter than a light breeze towards Damian.

Raven stood awkwardly to the side as Talia enveloped him in a warm embrace. She stared over his shoulder at Raven.

“Hi,” Raven said.

Talia parted from Damian and stood before her. Gorgeous didn't begin to do her justice. Models would’ve felt self-conscious in Talia’s wake, dressed in a green gown perfect for a red carpet appearance. Familiar bronze skin shone beneath the chandelier, completely scarless. The Lazarus Pit’s work, no doubt.

“So,” Talia’s eyes, a shade of green Raven knew well, seared into her. “You’re the demon girl.”

Read on AO3 here

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ilovemenoverfifty · 1 year ago

Text

Copybat Ch. 2

Bale!Bruce Wayne x Trans!OC

Warnings: None. This chapter is to get the story moving further

Word Count: 1287

Victoria’s eyes flutter open and she sits up. The blood rushing to her head gives her a bigger headache on top of the one she already has. She looks around, seeing if anyone else is around. An old man in a suit is sitting near the door. He doesn’t seem to realise she’s awake.

“Hello?”

“Ah, Miss October!” He seems happy she’s alright. “You’re awake! Are you feeling any better?”

“A little… um….who are you?”

“I am Alfred Pennyworth, the butler to Master Wayne.”

“Wayne as in…”

“Bruce, yes.”

“Got it… He brought me here… right?”

“Indeed he did.” The events of that afternoon are coming back to her.

“Is he here?”

“Not at the moment, no. Master Wayne is preoccupied tonight.” The disappointed look on Victoria’s face is subtle but Alfred sees it. “He did, however, tell me to give this to you.” He stands up and walks over to her, holding his hand out to her.

“My wallet!” She takes it from his hand and goes through it. “Nothing was taken!”

“But perhaps, something was added?”

“What do you mean by--” Victoria notices a white paper and takes it out. “His business card…” She sees a phone number written in blue pen. “Is this… his personal number?”

“Master Wayne would appreciate it if you call him tomorrow.”

“The Prince of Gotham wants me to call him?” She looks up at him. “Why?” Alfred shakes his head.

“Master Wayne is quite the complicated person, I wouldn’t try to understand it if I were concussed earlier today.”

“You make a good point.” She feels her head with her hand. “Oh, Mr. Pennyworth, could you…could you turn on the news?”

“Please, call me Alfred.” He bows slightly.

“Alright then, Alfred, could you please turn on the news?”

“Any particular reason, ma’am?”

“I’ve been following the news stories surrounding the Batman,” She explains, catching Alfred’s attention.

“The Batman, ma’am?”

“Mhm!” Victoria nods. “He’s fascinating!”

“How so?”

“The man dresses like a bat and fights crime! In what world is that not fascinating?”

“You make a good point.”

“Also, he’s done more for Gotham than the police ever could! He goes straight to the source! Like with the Scarecrow?” She gushes. “The police tried arresting him for the crimes. They spend more time and effort looking for Batman than the real threats.”

“You seem to know a lot about him.”

“He’s just cool, I guess.” She shrugs, tucking her black hair behind her ear.

“I see.” He nods, turning on the television. Sure enough, it was a broadcast of a gang of thugs, tied up to be found by the police. Victoria is suddenly more awake and alert than before, watching the broadcast with such a strong intensity, Alfred could feel it standing next to her.

The Batman is such an inspiration for her, and with a little work, she could become him! She will become him, not just another copycat.

Victoria doesn’t know how long she was watching the news, but gives Alfred a glare.

“What the hell?”

“I apologise, Miss Victoria,” He nods his head. “I’ve been informed by the nurses that the broadcast is bothering other patients.” She looks sad. “Perhaps you can find this broadcast on the internet!”

“Not a bad idea,” Her voice is quiet, yawning after speaking.

“Tired?”

“Mhm…”

“I’ll let you get some rest then.” Alfred turns to walk off.

“Hey, um…Thank you, for ... .you know,” She shrugs. “Keeping me company!” Victoria smiles at him.

“But of course, ma’am.” He bows towards her. “Sleep well.” He leaves after turning off the light. It doesn’t take long for Victoria to fall into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, she’s woken up by a nurse pressing some buttons on her vital machine.

“Good morning Miss October.” She smiles.

“Morning,” She mumbles, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“You’re being discharged this morning!”

“I can go home?”

“After a visit to the front desk, absolutely!” The nurse nods. “Just give me a moment and I’ll leave for you to get dressed!”

“What ” She finishes up whatever she’s doing and leaves the room.

Victoria’s clothes are folded neatly on a table against the wall. Did Alfred do that? She gets out of bed, taking a minute to adjust her bare feet on the cold floor.

It only takes a couple minutes before she’s dressed in what she wore the day before, a black blazer, white button up, black slacks, and black ankle boots. She didn’t have a bag, so she puts her wallet back into her pocket and makes her way to the desk to check herself out.

“Hi, um, I was told I can leave?” Victoria asks the woman at the desk.

“Yes, of course!” She nods. “Can I get your name?”

“Victoria October.” She crosses her arms.

“Alright, Ms. October,” The woman types something on her computer. “Let’s get you set up with your--Oh!” She exclaims.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Well, Ms. October, it seems as though your medical bill for this visit has been covered!”

“Someone covered my bill?” Victoria is confused. “Who could have--” It sets in for her. The very man who brought her to the hospital.

“I’m afraid he requested to remain confidential. A guardian angel of sorts.” The woman looks apologetic.

“That’s fine,” She smiles. “Is there any paperwork I need to do before I leave?”

“Yep!” She takes a packet of papers from her desk and places it in front of her. Victoria quickly fills them out and hands them back. “Alright, Ms. October! You’re good to go!”

“Thanks,” She nods, walking out of the hospital, and turning in the direction to her apartment. Before heading that way, she decides to try the number Bruce Wayne left for her. When the phone starts ringing, she starts walking.

“Hello?” Victoria asks, hearing someone pick up.

“Yes?”

“Hi…It’s Victoria?” She’s worried she dialled the number wrong. “Bruce Wayne?”

“Victoria!” He exclaims. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, I’m actually on my way home now!”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah… um, you paid my medical bill?”

“Do you not appreciate the gesture?” A slight tinge of fake hurt is apparent in his voice.

“No, no!” She backtracks. “I absolutely do, it’s just… You don’t even know me!”

“Sure I do!” He laughs a bit. “Your name is Victoria October, birthday October 4th, 1983, Computer Scientist at Wayne Enterprises--”

“Okay okay, I get it. You went through my stuff.” Her mind races, hoping he didn’t find a previous name.

“Not exactly,”

“No?”

“I looked at your ID at the hospital yesterday and talked to Fox last night.”

“Are you trying to prove a point?”

“You claimed I don’t know you.”

“And I still don’t! A-and you don’t know me!” She exclaims. “You can’t just pay for my bills like that.”

“And why not?” Victoria takes a deep breath.

“Because I don’t know you! Other than the fact that you’re the Prince of Gotham!” She lowered her voice when she was describing him.

“How would you feel about changing that? Maybe over dinner?”

“Are you asking me out?”

“If that’s what you want to call it!”

“When were you thinking?”

“Tomorrow night, 7:30. Alfred will pick you up.” He states.

“I keep on forgetting my address is on my ID.” Victoria sighs. “Alright, Bruce, it’s a date.” It feels weird calling him by his first name.

“I’m looking forward to it.” She can almost hear his slight smile over the phone. “Oh! And wear something nice.”

“Will do. Bye!” After she hangs up, it takes a minute for her to process what just happened. She’s reached her apartment building and is in the elevator when it dawns on her.

She has a date with Bruce Wayne!

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stargirlfics · 1 year ago

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Writing Pattern Game

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns! (from most recent to least recent, starting from the top)

Was tagged by the wonderful @saradika ahh thank you so much this is such a cool game! 💌🥰 I love finding patterns in stuff and I was curious to see what this would reveal! Not sure I found any connecting patterns, the first two have a “celestial” theme to them but I think maybe I tend to go for describing emotion and feeling in each of these first lines, like I’m setting up how you as the reader are feeling or being as you start the story. Kinda cool!

Standing in the Eye of the Storm (joel miller)

“The same scars mark your bodies like a map of constellations.”

Cherry Cola (pedro pascal)

“Stars gleam softly in your eyes, the kitchen table the only thing keeping your bodies from scooting impossibly closer in the evening light.”

The Gentleman Ch 5: Éclosion (alfred pennyworth)

“Tension lay heavy over the city in the days after the fear toxin attack, people were wary and on edge, the weather even starting to turn cold and dreary while unease hung thick in the air.”

Misbehavior (joel miller)

“It’s the way Joel Miller looks riding his horse, a hunting knife on his hip and a rifle held expertly along with the reigns in his broad hands that makes your skin prickle and your breathing deepen.”

IRON (battinson!bruce wayne)

“One could hardly say it was your fault.”

BUTTERFLY (joel miller)

“To be soft-hearted at the world’s violent end, that’s where you’d decided to make a home for your heart with all its fragile beating.”

The Gentleman Ch 4: Do I Wanna Know? (alfred pennyworth)

“Sore limbs of yours uncurl against the solid warmth that is Alfred next to you in bed, bare arms keeping you pressed close to his chest, your nose nuzzling into his side where you’re tucked.”

Call Out My Name (battinson!bruce wayne)

“Panic was familiar to you, especially in this city. Gotham took no prisoners and didn’t afford room for recklessness at any turn.”

Dream Girl (dev patel)

“His hand slid over yours softly, squeezing your fingers before bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss. No going back now.”

Girl Next Door (andy barber)

“The dew was still fresh on the grass when Andy rolled out of bed, tired of laying down after another restless night of sleep.”

no pressure tags 💌 @citrus-moonlight @tarrenterror25 @avintagekiss24 @moonlight-prose @psychedelic-ink and anyone else wanting to try this, yes that includes you!!

#tag games

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 2 years ago

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Slippin' Through My Fingers

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/c7x5job

by nightwxng

“Jason is dead, Dick! He’s gone!” Dick’s blood ran cold at the admission, his brows furrowing.

“What?” He asked dumbly, his mind not wrapping itself around the fact that his brother was dead. He couldn’t have been, Dick had just seen him three days ago.

Jason couldn’t have died, he was just–Dick had just–

“He fucking died, Dick. I buried him. He’s gone.” Bruce’s voice was so broken, so devoid of anything but sadness, it scared Dick. He had never seen his father like this.

“Dad–” He tried to put his arms around his father, but all he got was a hand to his chest, pushing him back. “Dad, please…” He tried again, but this time, it wasn’t a gentle push. It was a shove.

Words: 3079, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Fandoms: DCU, Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Wally West, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth

Relationships: Wally West & Dick Grayson Build-Up

Additional Tags: Jason Todd is Dead, And then he's alive, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Wally West is Alive, Wally West Gives Dick Grayson A Hug, Disappointed Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson is Alfred Pennyworth's Favorite, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, only for a little, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dick Grayson Is Kicked Out Of The Wayne Home, Alfred Pennyworth is a Saint, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, Multi Chapter, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd are Siblings, Protective Wally West, Panic Attacks, trigger warning for, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Ideation, Character Death in Ch.2, It's Wally West, no beta we die like jason todd

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/c7x5job

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the cape crusader #gotham #dc universe #ao3 #ao3feed

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daddysfangirls-dc · 7 months ago

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UnTamed Ch.14

Prev | Next

Damian Wayne x OC!Female

He found nothing. With facial recognition, fingerprints, and blood, Tim still found nothing on this girl. She didn't exist. Literally, there was nothing on her. It was stressing him the fuck out. Who was in their house? Who was with their brother?

THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS HAPPENING !?!

Tim wasn't sneaky. They knew that he was looking into her. They were upset at first, Jason furious, but Damian waved off the ambush, telling them he wouldn't find anything because there was nothing to find. They simply didn't relay the information to him. Watching him spiral was very amusing, and it was needed in such severe and sad times. It had been several days since her arrival, and Damian hadn't left her side since they brought her upstairs.

Jason had been shielding him from everyone, especially Bruce. It surprised everyone that Jason was Damian's advocate and protector at the moment. He stood firm in keeping everyone away and protecting Damian and his lover. They both need time to heal. He'd ensure they'd be left in peace.

"You need rest," Alfred said as he came in, changing her IV bag.

"I'm fine"

"You need rest in a proper bed," he said, this time more firmly.

"The others-"

"Have gone. It is just you and I."

"I don't want to leave her. What if-"

"I'll come get you if she wakes. I promise," he says, laying his hand on Damian's shoulder. " She wouldn't want to see you like this." This is greasy and unkempt. Clothes ruffled and untucked. Hair uneven and greased. She had never seen him like this, and he realized he didn't want her to.

"I'll shower, then I'll come back."

"Okay, dear boy," that was enough for now.

The room Asta woke up in was familiar yet not. She knew she was in Wayne Manor by the smell. Opening her eyes, she recognized the room she was in, the sheets that covered her. The room looked similar to Damian's, void of all those personal touches of his. A guest room in the Wayne Manor.

Looking about, she found an IV pole standing next to her, pumping a line of fluids and a heart monitor. She tried to lift her arm but found that she had no strength. She tried to sit up and found herself too weak. Suddenly, she found herself exhausted even though she had just woken up.

"Good Morning." Asta looked up to find Alferd by the door. Coming into the room and opening the blinds. " Alfred Pennyworth, although you already know that," she smiles at the amusement clearly in his voice. " Is it wrong for me to assume you are Astraea?"

Her face became flushed. Someone else knew her name. She bit back a smile. "My friends- friend calls me Asta."

"Well," he stands at the end of the bed," It is nice to meet you properly, Miss Asta." he comes around to check her IV and monitor. She points to the clear bags. " These are fluids, antibiotics, and morphine. You were in rough shape when you arrived. Our doctor did wonders, but you still need time to heal."

That would explain the drowsiness and weakness. She wondered where Damian was.

"The others have either gone to work or other things have called their attend. Damian is cleaning up in his room. He'll be back soon-" The door swung open, revealing Damian baggy clothes, fresh skin, and wet hair. Damian say nothing as he quickly crosses the room to her side.

"Hi"

Alfred slipped out unseen and left the couple to themselves.

"Hi," she said again, smiling weakly. " I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go."

"you have nothing to be sorry."

"I'm supposed to be a secret," she cries breathlessly. " I came here, and now I'm not. I'm so sorry."

Damian kisses her hand and wipes her tears. " There is no need for apologies. I don't care for our secrets. I want you safe," Even though she was lying in bed, he could see her boy sag with exhaustion with each cry. " Rest. All I need from you now is rest. Please rest." she nodded weakly as her eyes started to droop. " I'll be here when you wake. I promise"

Asta woke again, this time with more energy and strength, being able to lift her arms now. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she opened them. She looked at the sounds of birds coming from the window. There were two noticeable things by the window, one being the orange glow that came through the window, showing it was sunset, and Two Damian sitting by the window with a book.

"Good evening"

"Hey"

"You're healing well."

"Yes," She sat up, looking around. She found the IV and morphine drip gone. " How was school?" he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"It's winter break. No School"

"Oh, sorry." he leaned forward, kissing her forehead.

You've been through a traumatic event, and it is safe to say your perspective of time might be a bit skewed." He took her hand, rubbing it gently. " Can you tell me what happened? How you got it this way?"

"Stupidity," Asta laughed bitterly as she lay down. "I got too comfortable. I wasn't watching like I should have been like I always do." He wiped the few tears that spilled.

"you don't have-"

"I was walking as a cat. A black cat at that. I was walking to our apartment. I wasn't paying attention, and someone picked me up and stuffed me into a bag. I passed out and woke up caged in a basement. There was slickly preteen shit - He's definitely going to be a school shooter. He had a collection of tasers, pipes, and blades, and he had a lot. I didn't know what he'd do to me If I changed in front of him. I didn't want to know.

So fucking pathetic."

"No, you're not."

"I got caught by a fucking rando on the street. Who did this to me? " She pulled the covers back, revealing her wounds. " I am pathetic, 15 years, and this is how I'm caught. I am. I am. I am."

"No, no, no. You are perfect, and you are brave. None of this is your fault." he says, pulling the blanket back over her and tucking her in.

" I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. heal." He kissed her forehead again, wiping away more tears. " Rest"

Damian closed the curtains, shrowding the room in darkness. When he approached the door, Asta assumed he was leaving and closed her eyes. She let out a small sob as she heard the door close and lock. She lay in the dark, quietly crying. She felt the blankets move. She felt it as he crawled into bed alongside her. She felt his warmth as he lay closer, but he didn't come any closer; he simply took her hand and held it tight. It was the only part of her he could hold without hurting her. He held on tight.

"Who is she?" Bruce asked as he leaned on the Batcomputer; Red Robin already claimed his seat. He had yet to put on his cowl.

"Her name is Astraea. Don't bother." Damian stopped Red before he could begin typing, " She doesn't exist. She was born and raised on the streets. There is no record of her."

"How do you know her?" Red asked suspiciously.

" I met her four years ago, and we became friends. We became romantically involved last year.

"FOUR YEARS!?! You've been in a relationship for four years and didn't tell m-us?" Dick said the hurt and betrayal clear in his voice and face.

The others were shocked that Damian had managed to hide an entire relationship for four years. They all had to take a moment, think, and try to remember any hints of this possible relationship. They hadn't noticed anything strange until a few months ago. It also made them think if he really trusted them.

"Alfred was aware I had a romantic partner but not who they were. So was Superboy."

"You told Superboy?!!"

"No, I went to both of them inquiring for advice on pursuing someone romantically. I never confirmed having a romantic partner with supper boy. He just assumed correctly."

"He confirmed that the advice I gave was a success," Alfred said as he approached him. " He continues to subtly ask for advice now and again."

"All your advice has kept us together this long."

"no, my dear boy," he put a hand on his shoulder." That was all you." Damian pulled a small smile.

"She's a metahuman," Bruce said, interrupting the small moment." Can she turn into just a cat?" Duke asked. He was the only meta in the family, so the possibility of another joining the family was exciting.

"Any animal. She has empathic abilities as well," Damian said, accepting cocoa from Alfred. He passed out refreshments to the others.

"How long have you known?"

"Since the very beginning. she never hid herself from me. And I never hid myself from her. All our truths were laid out at the very beginning."

"Beginning their relationship with honestly I like that"

"Shut up, Jason"

"Asta-"

"Asta?"

"Is good and trustworthy. She has known our secret for years, and not once has it crossed her mind to betray us, me."

"And yet you never told us about her," Red said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"THIS," Damian says as he stands up, his arms motioning wildly. " This is right here. I didn't want you to turn her into a suspect and pull her part. Run her off. She's good; she's trustworthy and loyal. She doesn't... she doesn't deserve to be criminalized. She's good, and she's doing good."

"So you made her stay a secret for four years?"

"I didn't make her do anything. I also didn't oppose her staying a secret, which was mainly her idea. She doesn't like attention. And whether we like it or not, we have the spotlight in both our day life and nightlife."

While Damian never opposed secrets, he and Asta had several conversations and discussions about their hiding, and Asta desired to stay in the shadows for as long as possible. Damian didn't know how to explain it. He did know how to explain her desire for secrecy, her nonexistence, her devoted loyalty. He didn't know how to explain .... Astraea.

She was Astraea, and she was his, and that's all he truly understood from her. The downside of being in a relationship with an empath is that you no longer explain yourself; you feel and share your feelings. Damian didn't know how to share his feelings with his family. And even if he did, most of them were emotionally incompetent. It wouldn't matter. So here he stood flexing his hands, and they'd never understand how much " I love her... I love her. And I won't lose her."

#dc comics #dc universe #fanfiction #robin #batman #fanfic #damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne fanfic #damian wayne fanfiction #damian al ghul x oc #damian wayne x oc #damian wayne al ghul #untamed

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pinkiedevv · 7 months ago

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The Butler and the MOD Ch. 2

Previous: Ch. 1

And so my tumblr posting of my Harry Potter/Alfred Pennyworth ship continues~

Word Count: 2,275

-------

In the past few days, Harry had spent far too much time attempting to determine how to woo Mr. Pennyworth without referring to it as wooing. A fruitless endeavor on his part, of course, since he was, ultimately, attempting to do exactly such.

Regardless, the relevant issue was that he was familiar with using the internet, although perhaps not as efficiently as a modern citizen may be, but the vast majority of the results he had found proved to be inapplicable - or unpalatable, at the very least - for his case. The fact of the matter was that courting seemed to have changed far more than he had anticipated in society. Admittedly, it had been several different worlds and timestreams since he’d last looked. No more was it common to see a man bringing over flowers, or opening doors, or buying trinkets and trifles that he believed his partner may fancy. No more were there formal dates where the pair dressed up and enjoyed the company of one another in a polite setting. Oh, of course when Harry said ‘no more,’ he meant not often rather than not at all, but it was still rather a disappointment to him. It seemed the more common practices now were far less focused on romancing, and they all seemed rather… lackluster to Harry. Did everyone go about believing they did not have to earn the interest of the object of their affections? Admittedly, the use of ‘dating sites’ made it a seemingly simple task to find a person who was as interested in you as you were in them, but it seemed so… clinical. Where was the risk? The effort? The breathlessness at the possibility of the ultimate reward: your love being accepted and returned in equal if not greater measure.

There was hope, however. Mr. Pennyworth was an older gentleman, and, from the crisp suits he always wore to the café, he seemed to be one to appreciate the finer things in life. Perhaps he too would enjoy a more… antiquated form of courtship.

It was likely that Harry had read one too many books from the Black Library during his extended stint as a hermit in his first world, but he’d grown secretly enamored with the courtship rituals described within the texts.

The more he considered it, the stronger Harry’s resolve became. Indeed, if he truly believed Mr. Pennyworth was the one for him - and he undeniably did, a shockingly large amount, considering - then it should hold true that the man would hold favor for Harry pursuing him with the utmost sincerity and truth to himself.

–

Alfred did not have many activities outside of the Wayne mansion that the family was not aware of. So much so that he could only name two such affairs that he routinely partook in.

The first was related to his gardening, a hobby of his that the Waynes were well-acquainted with. After all, there was a reason the mansion only had a seasonal gardener to trim the hedges.

What the family was not aware of was his proclivity to invent new flowers of his own. Oh, they most certainly observed the fruits of his labor, but none of the brood had enough knowledge of harmless plants to take note of their peculiarities.

For the longest time, Alfred had simply enjoyed taking a quiet pleasure in his unique creations, watching each new variant bloom forth from the soil and unfurl its petals to reveal their remarkable, peerless existence to the world. It was not until his most prized creation - which he privately referred to as the Pennyworth Blue - that he considered sharing his exploits with others.

Sparing the details, that singular thought eventually led him to one of his non-Wayne-informed activities: donating his rich blue rose blooms to Ms. Calindra’s flower shop. Oh, she had attempted on multiple occasions to insist upon paying him for his flowers, but he firmly refused each time; he certainly made more than enough as the proud butler of the Wayne residence. Truthfully, it was payment enough for him to see others admire the unique blooms. It was a secret enjoyment that only Ms. Calindra herself was aware of him partaking in.

Alfred wasn’t ashamed of his talent, of course, nor did he have any ill intentions in his subterfuge. Simply, Master Bruce tended to be… excitable, at times, when it came to displaying his appreciation. His sons too had largely taken to doing the same, no matter how much they may try to deny it.

All of this to say, Alfred was content with his quiet, weekly visits to Ms. Calindra’s flower shop to impart his Pennyworth Blues along with the occasional other fascinatingly unique bloom he stumbled upon creating, and he was content in the knowledge that his family of employment had enough respect for him to not pry into his private affairs.

Which, of course, led to the second establishment he often paid visit to. For here, the Waynes were well aware he went some place to attain his goods; they simply did not know the name of the store itself.

A store which Alfred found himself visiting far more often than usual as of recent due to a new… addition to the shop.

To clarify, for the past month that Alfred had been to Latrice’s Café to pick up his teas and the family’s - largely Master Tim’s - coffees, he hadn’t been able to help but notice a man.

The dark-haired stranger seemed to have created a designated spot for himself in the corner of the quaint shop, facing towards both the register and the entrance to the café. His hands seemed to be perpetually clutched around a cup of tea - of what kind, Alfred couldn’t help but wonder - and for all but one occasion - in which he wore a finely knitted, forest green sweater - the man had on a suit so dark in pitch that Alfred had felt hesitant to do it the disservice of referring to it as simply ‘black.’

As much as Alfred could go on to describe the minute, fine details of the man that quietly stood out from the norm, there was but a single feature that truly captured his grasp and had yet to release him from its clutches:

The eyes.

The first thought Alfred had upon having seen them was a blunt, ‘unnatural.’

It was not a condemnation, however. Not in the slightest. Nor was it anything that could even tangentially imply distaste or, worse yet, disgust. It was simply a fact of the matter, one made up in two parts. The easier of the two to recognize was the hue of the man’s emerald irises; the color itself was rare but not utterly improbable, of course, but the rich shade in particular was an anomaly that Alfred had never seen nor heard of before.

This alone may have kept his attention on the man, at least long enough to make note in the Cave in case it was ever of any importance, but it was the second aspect that truly seized his regard.

Because the man’s eyes were so very old.

There was nothing factual that Alfred could express to describe how he came to this determination, but every instance in which he saw the man during his unfortunately brief visits at the café only served to solidify this perspective of his.

This wasn’t to imply that the man had ‘seen things,’ for all that Alfred was well aware of how trauma could indeed age a person far beyond their years. As much as it pained his weary heart, Alfred was well acquainted with eyes that held more than their soul’s years ought to.

This was not the case for the man in the café. At least, not the case alone.

For all that the stranger appeared not a day over twenty-five, he had eyes more ancient than Alfred’s own.

However, despite Alfred’s admittedly growing fascination, he made no attempt to approach the man, and he had no such plans to do so.

Which made it all the more surprising when he found himself approached by the very subject of his inexorably growing interest instead.

Harry chewed anxiously against the inside of his lip, an unfortunate habit he had thought he’d gotten rid of several decades ago. His hands fidgeted around the wrapped stems held in his clutches, which bloomed upwards with a mixture of soft pink oleanders and an entrancingly blue shade of rose. He’d chosen the former to signify beauty and grace, which he hoped they still meant, and he’d chosen the latter both because roses were a classic romantic flower on top of the fact that the royal blue shade of them had simply… strangely reminded him of Mr. Pennyworth.

He was hovering around the corner for his admiree to appear, as the man usually came in on Tuesdays and Fridays, the former of which today was. Harry thought it would seem far too stilted to be caught waiting inside the café itself with his bouquet of flowers, so here he remained instead.

He was not kept waiting long, and his heart jumped in his chest as the gentleman stepped neatly out from the driver’s door of a black convertible, looking as charmingly put together as always.

Hurrying forth so as to catch Mr. Pennyworth before he entered the shop, Harry could only hope he didn’t look as youthfully desperate as he suddenly felt he must, with his smooth, porcelain skin and thick, dark locks of hair that refused to stay in place even after all his years. Such a contrast to Mr. Pennyworth’s refined lines and smoothed back, sterling hair.

“Ah - sir!” Harry called, managing to keep his steps even instead of rushing as he felt he ought to by only the thinnest hairsbreadth of a margin.

Mr. Pennyworth turned towards him from where he’d been reaching for the café's door, quiet surprise splashed across his handsome features. As enviously quick to compose himself as ever, the gentleman blinked, hands gently clasping together in front of himself even as his eyes flickered curiously from Harry’s bouquet and back to meet his gaze. “May I be of assistance?” he questioned calmly, gesturing towards the door as if to hold it open for Harry’s entrance.

Harry shook his head in negation to the offer, and - careful not to thrust them forth instead - he delicately extended the bouquet in his clutches towards the man he had found himself enchanted by since he had first laid eyes upon him, taking a final step forth to close the gap between them.

Mr. Pennyworth blinked bemusedly at the lush flowers, his gaze seeming to latch firmly onto the entrancingly blue roses for a moment too long, and he tilted his head near imperceptibly as he glanced up to Harry in wordless question.

“I -” Harry paused, calming himself as best he could and letting a soft, shy yet genuine smile part his lips. “I would greatly appreciate your assistance, Mr. Pennyworth,” Harry quietly replied, finally answering the gentleman’s question from before and gently pushing the bouquet to the man’s firm chest. “I would be most honored if you would accept this gift from my tired hands,” he divulged with only the slightest trace of mischievousness of which he used to hide his trepidation.

Mr. Pennyworth’s hands came up to grasp the bouquet seemingly on instinct, largely subduing Harry’s worries, and the gentleman’s eyes seemed the smallest bit wider than before. “... may I request to know the intention behind this gift, sir?” the recipient questioned, though there was an air about him as if he already knew but had yet to accept his own deduction.

It was only then that Harry realized that he had made an utterly rude blunder and referred to the man by his name without having given his own, and he hurriedly introduced himself, preceding with, “Ah, my apologies, Mr. Pennyworth - I’d seen your name written down during one of your visits, but I’d forgotten to now give mine.” Here, he bowed slightly, one arm folding in front of him just below his chest while he rested the flat of the other against his back, dipping forth far enough to not seem shallow. “Harry Potter, at your service,” he belatedly greeted, then solidly replied, “and I have given you these flowers in the hopes that you will consider allowing me to court - to bring you on a date,” he swiftly corrected, willing away the blush that had no doubt risen to his cheeks. Oh, he most certainly wished to court Mr. Pennyworth, but he had realized that requesting a single date first would pose far less pressure on the man.

For several long, nerve-rending moments, Mr. Pennyworth did not reply. Instead, he stared into Harry’s eyes with an intensity that divulged his sharp intellect, and Harry could only hope he held up to muster.

Finally, Mr. Pennyworth’s grip on the bouquet shifted to hold them more firmly in his grasp, the stems tucked beneath the crook of his elbow while the flowers themselves were gently cradled against his shoulder.

“I’m afraid I cannot accept at the moment,” - Harry’s heart plummeted - “but I simply do not know you well enough to say otherwise,” Mr. Pennyworth finished, and Harry’s heart tentatively lifted, a swell of hope rising within his breast. The gentleman gifted him with a slight - yet no less warm - smile, and inquired, “May I join you for tea today, Mister Potter?”

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hehehhehheheh

#harry potter #alfred pennyworth #romance #romantic comedy #fanfic #fanfic writing #crack fic #crackship #crack treated seriously #romantic #batman

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