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tarrenterror25 · 2 years ago

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Title: When the Night is Over Chapter: 1 of ? Pairing: Alfred Pennyworth (The Batman 2022) x F!OC Rating: E Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: After the flood, Dulce looks to do her part to help Gotham heal and hopes to bring change to the city. As a wealthy designer there’s little she can do, but when she becomes privy to the identity of the Batman, she seizes the opportunity to help the caped crusader. With her close to Bruce, Alfred Pennyworth fears she has ulterior motives for the vigilante, but little does he know who she really has eyes for. Dulce learns what it’s like to live a double life and the sacrifices it takes to save a city.

Tags: post-The Batman, alcohol, smoking, MxF, age-gap (30′s/50′s), mention of disaster, post-disaster

Playlist here

Notes: Title is from Streets by Doja Cat. It’s here!! Just in time for 100 followers!! I am SO excited to begin this story and hope you guys have fun reading it! This is my second published OC ever and this story and her character are close to my heart so I’m excited to share her with you guys! I also am no fashion expert (love it to bits tho) so I am doing a LOT of research for this!

Chapter 1: Someone Like You

“Quality is remembered long after price is forgotten.” - Aldo Gucci

The Gotham City Museum hall is packed with an assortment of high society; mostly entrepreneurs and business moguls, but there are a few celebrity names. Among the crowd you can spot Johnny Charisma chatting up some folks or you can spot Jack Ryder weaseling his way through the guests looking for the next scoop. Of course, wherever the next headline is, Vicki Vale is never far off. People with money and enough drink in them will spill all kinds of secrets.

Champagne flows and hors d’oeuvres disappear faster than they can be plated. Loud music from a live jazz band fills the air combined with the sound of high pitched haughty laughter and chattery gossip from the guests. Everyone’s dressed in their finest; expensive fabrics flow and drape on the shoulders and hips of wives and mistresses while the men don their best suits, neatly pressed and shoes shined. The scent of the most obnoxious perfume and cologne creates a rather unpleasant cloud of smog once it meets with the cigar smoke. Mix in the vapors from all the liquor and it gives Ace Chemicals a run for its money.

“Why are we here again, Alfred?” Bruce Wayne asks with his hands in his pockets.

The older man gently nudges his ward and makes a gesture for him to stand up straight. Bruce mutters an apology and obliges.

“This is a benefit for those affected by the flood, Master Bruce,” Alfred explains.

“We couldn’t just write a check? I mean...I don’t see much reason for me to actually be here...I don’t see how this helps anyone.”

Alfred’s face wants to frown, but underneath the poor attempt is the hint of an amused smile. “Mayor Bella Reál insisted that you be present,” he says. “I warned you plenty of times that this was coming up. Just smile for a little longer, say some nice words, and then we’ll head home.”

Bruce nods and scans the room boredly.

There’s a large screen towards the front of the room next to the band with a dollar amount on the display; the numbers tick higher and higher every so often. Currently, the number is in the hundred thousands, just shy of a million.

Dulce’s gaze breaks from the screen and scans the room of guests. She scoffs and turns to Bella Reál and says, “So, we get to drink our weight in champagne while the rest of Gotham still wades in the harbor?”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Salazar,” Bella says assuringly. “Reconstruction for lower Gotham is already underway and we have federal assistance helping rebuild the seawall. The money from tonight will help locals reclaim their livelihoods and homes.”

With an understanding nod, Dulce sighs. “You’re right, I shouldn’t overthink it. It just...it doesn’t feel right,” she says politely refusing a champagne flute from a passing server. “Us here and the people affected...not. The danger may be gone, but the aftermath has only started.”

The mayor smiles and places a comforting hand on Dulce’s shoulder. She turns to her friend and says, “The people need to see that no matter what they think divides us, we are working together. This is our city, too.”

The two women embrace warmly. “Gotham is lucky to have you,” Dulce comments before pulling away. “You have my support no matter what, but now more than ever, whatever you need, I’m there.”

“You’ve always been generous to the city and I’m grateful for that,” Bella says. Her smile fades as she continues. “I wish I could say the same for the majority of Gotham’s elite.”

Dulce catches the mayor’s gaze wandering from her so Dulce glances over her shoulder and sure enough there’s the Prince of Gotham hanging back in the hall looking like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.

Bella sighs and says, “He’s come around since the flood, but it’s still a battle getting him involved.”

“Maybe he thinks there’s no hope for the city,” Dulce says dryly. “We should focus on the people who believe we’re worth saving.”

“I think he just needs some convincing,” Bella says. She gives a look to Dulce.

“Wait, what?” Dulce raises a brow, but Bella’s pleading face says it all. “You want me to talk to him?”

“Listen,” Bella says. “Spring is coming and you have your fashion show coming up! Get him involved, make it public, and use it to rally people! Boost some morale around here!”

Dulce shakes her head and waves a finger at Bella.

“Bella, no! Partnering with Bruce Wayne is not a good idea.” She makes sure her voice is quiet when she says that. “He’s hardly ever out of his own home much less has his hand in his own business!”

Bella grasps Dulce by the shoulders and looks her dead in the eye with all the seriousness she can muster. “Look, you are one of the most influential people in this city,” Bella says.

Dulce smiles and opens her mouth to thank her but Bella cuts her off.

“Behind closed doors,” she adds.

“Bella, I don’t do anything for the attention of it, you know that. I just-”

Bella interrupts again. “I want to see you both come out at the top of this. What was that about ‘whatever you need, I’m there’?”

Dulce is quiet and has to stop from rolling her eyes mid-roll.

“You’re my friend, both of you, and his name holds a lot of weight in this city. Please,” Bella pleads again.

Dulce has only ever seen Bruce Wayne from afar. She’s never actually formally met him though he’s never bothered to introduce himself to anyone anyways, she’s never had a reason to talk to him.

Bruce straightens when he sees the mayor and Dulce approaching him and Alfred.

“Bruce Wayne,” Bella says extending her hand to him. “Good to see you out and about. You look great.”

Bruce shakes her hand and offers a polite smile. “Good to see you, too,” he says.

“I want to introduce you to a close friend of mine,” Bella says. “This,” she gestures next to her, “is Dulce Salazar, a huge supporter of Gotham City. She’s partaking in efforts to rebuild Gotham’s infrastructure.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Bruce says extending his hand to Dulce.

“Charmed to finally meet you, Mr. Wayne,” Dulce replies shaking his hand.

There’s an odd silence that settles between the group. With a raised brow, Dulce’s eyes flick over to his companion as if to remind him of his manners.

“Oh, this is Alfred,” Bruce adds quickly.

The butler, with a smile warmer than his master’s extends his hand. “Alfred Pennyworth, miss,” he says.

Dulce shakes his hand. Her eyes can’t help but hold his gaze for a fraction of a second longer than she know she should.

Bella and Alfred leave the other two alone. The conversation between Bruce and Dulce is strained and awkward. Bruce is out of practice with how to. speak and without Alfred to feed him lines or give him cues, he’s stumbling a bit. It doesn’t help that Dulce just doesn’t seem interested in talking to him so her answers are short and clipped.

“So, we haven’t met before?” Bruce asks, his tone tentative but even, like he’s putting together a puzzle. “I feel like I know you?” A moment later and then he gives a small smile. “You own the fashion house in the diamond district?”

Dulce’s smile tries to hide that she’s not offended by his ignorance and poor memory. She’s doing her best, really, she is, but she can’t help the sarcasm that slips through when she speaks. “No, Mr. Wayne, we haven’t been formally introduced,” she says. “We have met briefly in passing though you wouldn’t remember.”

Bruce raises a brow, sensing the hostility. Quickly, Dulce clears her throat and adds in a much nicer tone, “And yes, I own the Castillo fashion house as well as the boutique, Castle Co.”

He nods thoughtfully and gives a very small sly smile, like he knows more than he lets on. “The Castillo fashion house, I’m familiar with it,” he comments. “But...your surname is different?”

A small, but genuine, sly smile graces Dulce’s features. “You’re more perceptive than you let on,” she says straightening up. “Castillo is my family’s name.”

“But not yours?”

“No,” Dulce quips. She mutters an apology and continues. “I was denied my father’s name. Salazar is my mother’s maiden name.”

Bruce nods. “The rest of the family must get a kick out of that,” he says with a soft chuckle.

Though she senses that he’s trying to be playful, Dulce doesn’t smile.

“There might be...distant familial relations somewhere, but as far as I know, I am all there is to ‘the family’. I am what’s left of the name and the house, much like you, Mr. Wayne.”

His smile fades into an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to-”

“This city is my family now,” Dulce adds.

Bruce gives a small smile, it’s soft and understanding. “You and me both,” he says.

Dulce’s offensive posture softens as she’s sees something different in Bruce’s eyes; something lost and hurt. Maybe it was always there and she was being too stubborn too notice, but she sees it now. She scolds herself for forgetting his own experience with loss and being too concerned with putting up an aggressive front. She corrects her tone and posture to be more warm and inviting. He takes to it and slowly straightens up as the conversation moves along much smoother than when it initially started.

As the two continue to talk and bond a little over their similar familial structures, Dulce can’t help but steal glances at the gentleman who accompanied Bruce.

She’s seen photographs of him, mostly his profile from a distance as Bruce is typically the focal point for the paparazzi. Tonight is the first night that she’s seen him in person and this close.

None of the media do him justice.

Despite that he may appear as a humble butler, Dulce can detect another sort of mysterious air about him, a graceful aura. She notices he stands with by far the most poise of any of the other guests, hands neatly folded in front of him. She watches him walk, how he carries himself when he’s speaking to the other guests; so polite, smooth, and refined. For a man his age, he’s also impeccably handsome, the distinguishable rogue scar on his brow contrasts the neatly trimmed facial hair. It’s simultaneously sophisticated and rugged.

Mentally, Dulce slaps herself, a twinge of shame coming over her for looking at him in such a way. She can’t help it. Every time her gaze dances around the room, her eyes land on him. His presence is so magnetic and Dulce wants nothing more than to go over and talk to him. A somber thought occurs to her that no one knows when Bruce will show his face again. Dulce might never see Alfred Pennyworth again beyond this night.

As Bruce begins to excuse himself, Dulce thinks quickly and retrieves a business card from her clutch. She hands it to him. “Come by and I can fit you for something,” she says happily.

“I take it these clothes bother you?” Bruce jokingly asks.

She chuckles at his joke. “Three buttons is a little 90′s, Mr. Wayne and we can talk more about raising funds for the city. I have a proposal you might be interested in.”

He accepts the card and walks off. Dulce wastes no time in turning her attention back to Alfred, frowning and gently shooing away a server trying to offer her some kind of appetizer.

Dulce plays like she’s just hanging back and taking in the room, but she’s taking the opportunity to look Alfred over completely. Being a designer, she can’t help but look over his outfit and she notes how handsome and striking he is in it. Most of the men here, the younger ones and the older ones trying to pretend they’re young, are wearing sports blazers or just a pressed shirt. They have gaudy ties that don’t match their attire, they’ve adorned their hands with every hulking ring they own, and they saunter like the world owes them something. Dulce finds the lack of care and the audacity of them distasteful.

Bruce and Alfred are about the only two who are wearing three-piece suits and Alfred is about the only one with his tie on properly; not poorly knotted or pulled loose from the neck. For his accessories, he has on only a gold watch that pairs nicely with his cane. Everything about him says “proper” and it makes Dulce’s heart swoon. Yet his expression, when he isn’t smiling, but watching and observing, is harsh and stern. The way his brow quirks up makes him look like he’s getting ready to tell someone off. It has Dulce feeling a certain way and she’s not sure if she likes it or not.

Dulce doesn’t realize Alfred is walking towards her until he’s a few yards from her. She pulls herself from her thoughts and smooths out her gown and adjusts the strategically placed loose curls from her updo. Soon Alfred stands directly in front of her.

She gives a polite smile and says, “Bruce stepped away for a drink I think.”

“I hope he wasn’t too off-putting,” Alfred jokes. “His conversational skills are a bit rusty, I’m afraid.”

“He seemed to do well enough,” she replies.

The light coming off of the candles and golden light fixtures in the museum hall do wonders in catching the blue of his eyes.

“I don’t think we’ve met properly,” Alfred says.

“No, we haven’t,” she replies. “I’m Dulce, I’m a designer and run the Castillo fashion house.”

His smile is cordial. “I thought the name sounded familiar,” he notes. “The mayor says you are an avid supporter of the city, do you do any sort of political work or...?”

“Oh, no!” Dulce says. “Nothing like that, I’m just a designer and I make clothes.”

“No one is just anything, miss.”

A warmth spreads to Dulce’s cheeks and she has to turn away from him. “You certainly are too kind, sir,” she says off-handedly.

From the corner of her eye she catches the swell of his chest at the title. The thought of calling him that again flutters briefly in her mind.

The pair chat awhile longer, longer than Dulce realizes. From across the room, Bella taps her watch and waves her over. Reluctantly, Dulce excuses herself from Alfred’s presence.

The rest of the night carries on with the usual unpleasantries of these things; drunken laughter, a few unwanted touches, and blissful ignorance. Hardly anyone seems actually interested in why they’re there, they just seem to gloating in the fact that they are. The money that’s being donated is only done as a show of power. Dulce watches how every political official, socialite, and business power clams up the second Bella mentions the flood and its victims. Dulce’s one of the few at this party who has actually stepped foot in lower Gotham. Most of these guests haven’t so much as lifted a finger in their entire lives.

Dulce can’t help but be sarcastic when she makes conversation with the rest of the guests. She doesn’t pretend about liking them like they do with each other. Many of these people covet Dulce’s work and would love to talk to her, but it’s speaking to Dulce, herself, that is less than desirable since she’s seen as unpleasant. But she has to be, she can’t help it. If Dulce were anything but unpleasant then these people would walk all over her. But she tries to be nice for Bella’s sake this evening.

Even while navigating the rest of the party, Dulce’s mind comes back to him.

Alfred.

On the drive home and all the way to her front door where she kicks off her heels, she’s still thinking about him. Not even the scalding water of her bath can numb her to whatever feeling she’s clinging onto, the one she felt when he was standing so close to her. She sighs and slumps further into the tub, submerging herself until the water stops right under her nose.

It’s been a long time since she’s felt this way about someone. It’s difficult; being successful and having an equally successful relationship. Trying to balance the two was exhausting, especially when most men were against her being the breadwinner. After her last relationship some time ago, she just stopped trying. She hardly even bothered giving anyone the time of day now. She didn’t really feel the need for a partner anyways. She didn’t need dates or to flirt, didn’t need to hold hands with someone or look forward to seeing them. Or was she just telling herself that?

She closes her eyes.

Something about Alfred gave Dulce the whole butterflies in her stomach; it was a little pathetic, really, how weak she suddenly was for a well-dressed man. A much older well-dressed man. Oh, that makes Dulce’s face heat up. A flush comes over her and suddenly the water’s cold. Dulce, herself, is only in her 30′s which, in Gotham, is quite young since most of the powers that be have been around since she was born. It’s those people that look down their noses at her. They think she’s too naive, not yet mature enough to understand how things work in Gotham. But Dulce understands all too well how things work in Gotham’s higher social circles and it’s why she doesn’t want to think about Alfred in this way, but she does.

Her mind starts to wander from the features on his face, his eyes, jaw, to his torso, so broad, to his hands and...

She has to completely submerge herself in the water to keep from imagining how his hands would feel on her skin.

A clock on the wall of the Castillo fashion house chimes that it’s noon.

Bruce and Alfred enter the establishment.

It’s been some time since the benefit, but the butler has managed to get Bruce out of the tower to be properly fitted for something to “keep up appearances”.

Right now, Bruce wears a t-shirt with some jeans and a sports coat while Alfred is dress in his usual neat attire. Bruce removes his sunglasses and tucks them into his coat when he enters the building, his eyes squint at the light coming off the white walls and furnishings. Alfred is clearly the more well-rested of the two.

A woman comes up and takes their coats as Dulce approaches them with an amiable smile. She’s dressed in a pinafore jumpsuit and a simple blouse. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail, nothing like the tight updo from the party. She seems much more relaxed here.

Dulce leads the pair to a dressing area of sorts where there’s a small short platform in front of a massive trifold mirror. She guides Bruce to stand on the platform and begins to look her over curiously. He scans the room a bit like he’s expecting someone else to come in.

He notes how Dulce collects a tray of supplies and sets it on a small end table next to the platform. Its contents are needle and thread, tape measure, pins and pin cushions, scissors, and whatever else he suspects a seamstress or tailor might need.

“You know how to sew?” he asks, surprise slipping into his tone.

Dulce just smiles as she picks up the measuring tape and gestures for Alfred to have a seat on a couch nearby. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Wayne,” she says looking up at him.

“What do you mean?”

She begins taking his measurements as she speaks, occasionally jotting down the numbers on a notepad. “I think people underestimate you,” she says. “People think you don’t care to notice things and I admit, I was one of those people, but really, you seem to be quite the detective.”

Bruce stiffens a bit at the comment.

Dulce goes on and says, “But yes, I can sew. I can cut, drape, and stitch. I like doing things myself. Why do you ask?”

He shrugs and replies, “Most people, designers, who do this stuff don’t, I guess. They just tell someone else to do those things.”

Dulce straightens and looks him right in the eye. “I am not most designers, Mr. Wayne,” she says with a curt smile.

Bruce rolls his eyes and looks away.

As Dulce continues measuring him, she steals a few glances over to where Alfred sits on the couch. His legs are slightly apart and his cane sits between them, both hands resting atop the pommel. There’s a soft power in how he sits; his back straight, chin up, and shoulders back. She can’t explain it, but it has her, Dulce, a woman who prides herself in being bold and confident, feeling very small.

All the men she had been with before didn’t have the same grace about them and it was laughable how they thought their crude dominance would bring her to her knees, not like that would ever happen anyways. But something about just the way Alfred was sitting exuded a quiet air of authority and again Dulce can feel the butterflies in her stomach.

Everyone else she’s ever been with didn’t even know how to hold a woman, but Dulce can tell that Alfred looks like he would hold someone like a gentleman would.

She finishes up the measurements and has a few employees bring out some clothes for Bruce to try on. He disappears behind a nearby dressing screen to try each one on and then resumes his place on the platform to look himself over. Dulce makes some adjustments to a jacket he’s wearing, putting pins in where she wants to make alterations. Bruce looks over his shoulder and asks Alfred for his opinion. The butler rises from the couch and walks over to get a better look.

Oh dear.

Alfred is close enough that Dulce can pick up the faint scent of his cologne. She clears her throat as Alfred speaks to Bruce and adjusts one of the sleeves of the jacket, her hand accidentally brushing Alfred’s. She looks up at him to apologize and for a brief moment their eyes meet. In this light, his eyes are like oceans; bright and blue. There’s no doubt she could get lost in them.

Dulce clears her throat again to break the tension and moves to adjust the lapels on the jacket. “As I was saying earlier,” she says trying to compose herself, “a notch or peak style lapel suits you much better, brings out your shoulders. A shawl style you should save for formal occasions. For pants, I think a straight leg style works for you, makes you look more broad. And I think an overcoat is in order, a peacoat doesn’t suit your figure.”

Bruce gives a small smile as he looks himself over in the mirror. “I’ll try to remember all of that.”

After trying on more clothes, Dulce insists that she bring the finished pieces to Wayne Tower herself. She and Bruce discuss payment and though the former tries to argue against it, Bruce insists.

“You said you had an idea about raising funds for the city,” Bruce says as Dulce returns the clothes to a garment rack nearby.

“Oh, yes,” she says handing him and Alfred their coats back. “I’m about to present my spring collection in an upcoming show and the funds from it will go towards the flood relief efforts. I would like to have you as a sponsor. Your name attached to it would certainly draw a crowd.”

Bruce nods thoughtfully. Though his face has his usual stoic expression, Dulce can tell he seems to agree with her reasoning.

“Sounds good,” he says.

He gestures for pen and paper and Dulce hands it to him. Bruce scribbles down some information. “Here’s a number and you can come by Wayne Tower to make arrangements. Whatever you need we’ll cover it,” he says.

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne,” Dulce says taking the pen and paper. She’s a little shocked, not entirely expecting him to go along with the idea. “Truly, I appreciate this.”

“Just Bruce is fine,” he replies with a small smile.

The pair leave and Dulce begins work on the garments for Bruce. A few times she pricks her finger with the needle and swears it’s not because her mind is drifting back to the only person who’s been on her mind since the party.

She sighs and sets down the jacket she’s working on and sits back in her chair.

A small smile graces her features as she thinks about how she can see Alfred again when she brings the garments to Wayne Tower.

Notes: I had to pay homage to Lucius from The Dark Knight because his soft sass is unmatched 💕

“I need a new suit.” “Well, three buttons is a little 90′s, Mr. Wayne.” “I’m not talking fashion so much as function.”

I am so worried I made Dulce too mean, but she can’t be perfect, she has to grow okay 🥺

#when the night is over #Alfred Pennyworth #alfred pennyworth x oc #the batman!alfred pennyworth #the batman!alfred pennyworth x oc #alfred pennyworth fanfiction #the batman fanfiction

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years ago

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One Calm Night: Donny x Fem!Reader

Requested by @sodapop182 I'm so sorry it took so long to post things have been so hectic lately!

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @pastexistence @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

************** 1944 ************** "Well shit, son, this is some good stuff," Aldo chuckled as he glanced over the label. It was in French, so he couldn't exactly read it, but he recognized the logo and colors. Donny nodded eagerly though he had a nervous smile, "Yeah I just hope Y/n likes it." Hugo smirked and Wicki smiled and said, "Well even if she doesn't, she likes you enough." Donny shook his head as he packed away the wine and some pastries into a basket he was able to find. "Nah..." he cleared his throat and turned back around, "Does she?" Aldo rolled his eyes, "Pretty damn sure just about as much as you like her." They had never seen Donny smile as much as he did that moment. Wicki chuckled, "So quit worrying, Donny. Just go and be yourself!" "Well..." Hugo shrugged, "Maybe tone it down a bit." "What? Tone what down? By how much? I-" "That. She already said yes. Relax a little, son." Aldo chuckled as he pushed Donny out of the room, "Go get dressed." Meanwhile, you were with Omar, and he was shaking his head, "The poor guy's losing his mind, take it easy on him." "Wh-I did nothing!" You laughed and Omar did too, "I know, I know. I think he just...hasn't been on a date in a long time. And, I don't think he's ever liked someone this much." "Well no pressure," you sighed and checked your hair in the one mirror in the hideout for the thirtieth time. You would have worn a dress, but the one dress you did have you used for disguises on missions....so at this point it was too torn up to use for a genuine date. Besides, if anything happened while you were out, you had to be ready to come back and help the others. So, you had to settle for the least damaged shirt you had. It was a long sleeve blouse. It was emerald green, Donny's favorite color, coincidentially. You paired that with some high waisted pants that had only a few stitches holding it all together, and, you pretty much had to wear your usual boots. You did give them a good cleaning, though. You were all just doing your best. What else could you do? Meanwhile, Smitty and Hirschberg came back from a short mission. They had a few scalps for Aldo, and were a little happy that they were now ahead of everyone else in terms of paying off their debt to Aldo. And when they walked into the kitchen and saw some fancy looking wine and some treats, well, they couldn't help themselves. They downed about half of the bottle along with the pastries when they heard glass shatter behind them. "You're fucking kidding me." They turned around slowly, and saw Donny had dropped two glasses. It was then that they realized the wine and food was most likely for the date.... To be fair, they had been gone for a few days. And Donny talked about taking you out all the time, they didn't realize this was the time it would actually happen. Donny was standing looking shocked and, unfortunately for them, very angry. Hirschberg muttered, "Smitty, run. I'll distract him." "He'll take us both down, forget it. We'll just make him angrier..." "What the fuck's goin on out...aw shit." Aldo sighed, his hands at his hips as he shook his head. He knew even if they ran they wouldn't get very far, so the next best thing was to reason with Donny, "Now, look, son...They didn't know no better, they were gone! Them two boys are good kids, they didn't mean nothin' by it! You know they love Y/n, they don't mean nothin'! It's-" Then, Omar walked in with you. Donny turned around and when he saw you, he immediately stopped fuming. He even smiled a little, looking a lot calmer. "Y/n..." Aldo practically ordered, "Everyone out." Smitty, who felt a little guilty started to shake his head, wanting to explain to you he really didn't know, "But I-" "Now. Move. This is your savin' grace, boy." Aldo ushered the poor kid out along with a smirking Hirschberg. "Donny, you ready?" You asked, not really sure what was going on, and not really caring. You had been waiting for Donny to ask you out for a painfully long time. Since boot camp, really. He sighed, and lightly kicked a piece of glass to the side, "I had some stuff for us," he picked up what remained of the bottle of wine, "They beat us to it, kid." He had to chuckle a little. You giggled as you stood behind him and wrapped your arms around him, observing, "Well, it's still half full." He laughed, "You're right y'know!" He chuckled as he instead put a few rations of chocolate in the basket along with the half full bottle. The rations may or may not have been Smitty and Hirschberg’s, but that was a story for another day. He turned around and swept you off your feet. "Ready?" You laughed, "Been ready for years, Don." He raised an eyebrow and grinned as he led you somewhere to the countryside. It was so quiet, the afternoon was so lovely, if you didn't know any better, you'd think there was no war. Just you and Donny. It was just as you'd dreamed of for so long, and you let him know that. You never thought you'd make him blush as much as you did, but that just made it even better. He was softer than he let on before. You always had your bet on that, but now you knew it for a fact. And you knew he was yours. You were both laying in some tall grass, looking up at the sky as a few grey clouds drifted between you and the stars slowly. It seemed to be the one calm night of the past year or so.

"Y/n?" Donny murmured with a smile, glancing at you. "Yeah Donny?" You turned to look at him. "I think I'm in love with you..." Any of the basterds could have told you that Donny loved you for a fact...for quite a while now. But, you didn't mind the wait. Things hadn't gone as planned, but hey, that happens sometimes. Especially when you're surrounded by basterds. You giggled a little, as he rested his hand on your cheek, and you admitted what you'd known for a long time, "I think I'm in love with you too..." The stars shone in his eyes, his shoulders loosened up as he heard the only words that could bring the sergeant some relief. He kissed you softly, living completely in the long awaited moment. Times were tough, you were all far from home, anything could go wrong at any time... But for that night, in that moment, Donny was completely content with life, now that he had you. And nothing could take that from him.

#Inglourious Basterds #inglourious basterds imagine #Donny Donowitz #donny donowitz imagine #donny donowitz x reader #aldo raine #aldo the apache #hugo stiglitz #Wilhelm Wicki #Omar Ulmer #Smitty #smithson utivich #Hirschberg #gerold hirschberg

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cherryplasmids · 6 years ago

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☆ late night worrying ☆

pairing: donny donowitz x reader fandom: inglourious basterds anon request: Can you do a fluffy fanfic with Donny donowitz please? Maybe a jealous/overprotective Donny? The world would be a better place if we had a tad more Inglourious Basterds 💕✨ (RE: during the war pls) (fem reader, fem pronouns, already in a relationship) notes: pretty short, but cute, i also had no idea what to title this —check out my other works; masterlist

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By the time the Basterds come back to your quaint, little apartment—their makeshift headquarters—it’s midnight. Although they were trained in the art of stealth, as soon as they reached your home where it’s safe, they became of animals stomping around, throwing things—basically making as much noise as possible. They were safe there, they didn’t need to be careful.

Usually, you would be up, scolding them for their carelessness. They took it in stride. Stiglitz would give you a small bottle of alcohol, Ulvitch would smile, Aldo kissed your cheek, and Donny smothered you in attention.

But right now, you’re too damn tired to even think about getting up from your warm, cozy bed. Even when you heard Ulvitch asking for you, you remained in bed, half awake and half asleep.

About an hour or so later, Donny tries to quietly enter your room. Despite all the training, you would think he learned how to navigate around a dark, open area without tripping over himself. You think he missed that lesson because here he is, stumbling around and swearing like a sailor when he bumps into the closet cabinet.

You take pity and call out. “Over here, baby.”

A sigh of relief and a few steady footfalls after, Donny is sliding underneath the covers, pulling you against his chest once he gets comfortable. He places a kiss on your bare shoulder.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya up, doll.”

“It’s okay,” You yawn and ask him about his day. He can tell you’re a bit delirious and opts out of telling you everything that happened. You’ll find out about his knife wound tomorrow.

“Did A’chie keep you safe?”

The distaste Donny has for the Englishman is quite apparent. Ever since he met Archie, there’s been this sort of unspoken rivalry—especially since it’s one-sided only on Donny’s part. He thinks Archie will whisk you away after he charms you with his ‘pretty sentences and English mustache’ and you’ll live in London where it rains all day instead of beautiful Boston.

“He was the perfect gentleman. Not only did he keep me safe, but he kept me warm—”

Without a second thought, Donny releases you from his grip and scrambles to put clothes on. He’s swearing again, muttering about how no one will miss Archie and comparing him to some poor Yankee fan Donny had a scuffle with three years ago. A little tired giggle escapes before you can contain it before it becomes a string of soft laughter. Donny, who is barely off the bed with only boxers on, huffs in feign annoyance.

“You goin’ be the death of me, you know that?” Another giggle and Donny crawls back over to you, again pulling you into his arms. “Please tell me he didn’t make a move on you.”

You shake your head, playing with his fingers. “He threw a tantrum after I made a comment about some beloved movie of his. The funny part is, I never even seen it.”

“That’s my girl.”

You hum, wiggling yourself to get closer to him. His little member jumps in excitement and tired laugh emit from your lips. “I’m dog tired, Don.”

His grip tightens and you could practically feel the mischief exuding off of him. “I’ll do all the work.”

Again, you laugh but it's cut off by a yawn.

Another kiss to the shoulder. “Tomorrow, yeah?” You hum in agreement.

Feeling warmer now, you slip into a deep, peaceful sleep. Donny waits for your breaths to even out before smiling. Now, he feels safe.

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 590 published: may 16, 2019 edited: n/a

#donny #Donny Donowitz #donny donowitz fanfiction #donny donowitz imagine #donny donowitz x reader #sgt donny donowitz #inglorious basterds #inglourious basterds imagine #inglourious basterds x reader #imagines #reader insert #x reader #x you #fluff prompt #requested #anon #dragonglassx

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mqtchqbxbq · 3 years ago

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@chibi-netherlands

also, don aldo is always getting bullied, poor man but also poor hair style

My assumptions about you based on your favorite super league team from supa strikas (theyre bad)

Supa strikas: youre like 5 years old. Or youre super Fran. Super fran if youre reading this you can bring your sleeping gf to our date the more the merrier

Invincible United: you have a thing for cartoonish villains. Dooma best captain you either have a saviour complex or you like disfunctional families.

Technicalli: you like the silliness going on. Also you think Chuck Chipperson deserved better. Alternatively you might have a thing for spandex.

Barka: you like riano. I dont blame you. He is fine

Azul: You think De Los Santos was really cool catching those balls. You wish the Aztec rep was better tho

Nakama: you either really like Miko or you think ura giri has them nails 💅 go watch tsubasa dont lose your time with this show. They really did the japanese team dirty

Grim Fc: you think halloween must be all year long. You’re right.

Colossius: you are obsessed with background characters with no lines.

Sultans: You a girl livin lavish. I want it I got it. Luxury is full control. I mean I agree, that flying palace looked 7 stars (Also you might be a dream stan based on their uniform im sorry ) Your mom let you use microtransactions in mobile games. Youre a robux billionaire

Hydra: You like homicidal surfer dudes. Your idea of a great date is being drowned in the ocean.

Iron tank: you find the fake german accent and big guys so funny you should cut the amount of little german boy memes you inhale. Also I know you would hit Uber. Himbos for life

Incognito Fc: when people were eating their minds about conspiracy theories. You wished to be a part of illuminati. Or you think Inyo is the milf the legend the moment

Cosmos: you like southern accents and cowboys. And a big fan of headbands. You probably -are/want to be a theater kid. If you won the lottery you would go to vegas and lose it all in one night, getting drunk married and proceeding to forget about it the next morning in the process. You wish Ninja and El matador rivalry could have more screentime.

Orion: You like astronomy- from a distance. You think meda deserved better (i know baby)

Palmantieri: you have like really bad taste in hair. I would never trust you with scissors. Liquido i can take but i cant watch Don Aldo without my inhaler beside me. Its lethal.

#i know for a fact you want halloween all day every day which is mood #i like autumn very much hmmmMMmmmmMMMm

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larryland · 6 years ago

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by Jenny Hansell

Is there anything sturdier and more resilient than a Gilbert & Sullivan operetta? There are occasional professional productions of Pirates of Penzance or HMS Pinafore at opera houses and regional theaters, but I’d bet that it’s local amateur companies that have kept the operettas alive for 130 years and counting.

Why so evergreen? G&S shows offer plentiful opportunities for amateur ensembles to sing complex and lovely music, and the lead roles give the best singers in the community a chance to shine, while leaving room for the character actor with limited singing range or two left feet. Every G&S production I’ve seen (or performed in, with the late lamented Light Opera Company of Salisbury, CT) has a large chorus of simpering maids played by women from their teens through their 80s, and assorted pirates, policeman or “gentlemen of Japan” played by men who may struggle to hit the high notes of their younger days, or remember which order their feet should grapevine, but are as courtly or dastardly as the moment requires. The simple plots, the witty lyrics, the tradition of updating them with current references, and above all the gorgeous music, so much fun to sing and to listen to, has kept the G&S repertory going in communities around the world, with the traditions passed on like folk tales.

The Gondoliers is less well known than the “big three” of Pirates, Pinafore and Mikado, but with its gorgeous score and perfectly silly plot, it deserves to be seen, and the Valley Light Opera is currently mounting a very entertaining production at the Academy of Music in Northampton. With a cast of thousands (not really, but it’s big) and a full orchestra, this community production fills the stage with color.

The plot concerns two penniless but handsome young brothers, gondoliers Marco and Giuseppe. They decide to choose brides from among the assembled village ladies, who fan themselves and faint at the prospect. It turns out that one of them is the heir to the throne in Barataria, but since nobody knows which, they must leave their brides behind and assume the duties of the monarchy together. They are Republicans, however, of the 19th century sort, which means they don’t believe in hierarchies: they help out with the menial duties of the kingdom while treating the Lord High Footman and Lord High Drummer Boy with outsized respect.

Not much else happens until the identity of the true king is revealed: various amusing characters enter, sing a song to explain who they are, and leave again.

Among those are the down-on-their-luck Duke and Duchess of Plaza-Toro, who support themselves by endorsing dubious products, and their daughter Casilda, who was married at birth to the now-incognito prince. She, however, is secretly in love with Luiz, the one-man ‘suite’ serving her family.

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As the Duke, Jonathan Klate stands out for his authoritative voice and comic timing. Kathy Blaisdell is a classic G&S mezzo-soprano, carrying off her songs with verve. Elaine Crane as Casilda has a sweet soprano and is very believable as she puzzles over her fate. Brad Amidon, as Luiz, isn’t the strongest singer but is a terrific comic actor, and plays an 11th-hour twist to the hilt.

The strongest voices on the stage belong to the four young lovers: George Eisenhauer and Christopher Marcus play Marco and Giuseppe as a goofy Mutt-and-Jeff pair. As Gianetta, Libby Maxey has a glorious operatic voice, though her words are mostly incomprehensible. Luckily there are supertitles projected in the theater (which synced up with what was on stage about 50% of the time.) Kimaya Diggs was a warm and charming Tessa.

The orchestra, ably led by conductor Aldo Fabrizi, gave some extra bad-guy music to Don Alhambra, the Grand Inquisitor who stole away the young prince to begin with, and is played with understated menace by Matthew Roehrig.

As with any G&S production, the script was updated with plentiful and very amusing current references, from Bernie bros to pussy hats, Kardashians and #MeToo, to rhyming Ivanka and Sri Lanka, with a little Macarena thrown in. I was waiting for a tie-in with the two brother gondoliers to Don Jr and Eric but sadly it never came. As someone who always slightly chafed at playing the giggling girl year after year, I particularly appreciated when Tessa’s line, “those two poor Monarchs haven’t got any one to mend their stockings or sew on their buttons or patch their clothes” was interrupted by a chorister adding “or build their buildings or run for office!” Happily, the script doctors didn’t overload the production with too many such interludes.

The minor roles and ensemble are filled with Pioneer Valley residents, including a paleontologist, a pastor, a dentist, a massage therapist, a climate activist, several teachers and a passel of delightful middle-schoolers who cartwheel, ride mini-gondolas mounted on scooters, and add even more life to the village scenes. The ensemble as a whole particularly shone on the opening number, List and Learn, and the lively dance interlude, the Cachucha.

The orchestra, almost without exception, played beautifully, though occasionally were much louder than the ensemble, at least where I was sitting near the front. Friends in the middle of the house reported they had no trouble hearing the singers over the instruments.

Seeing this production reminded me that my grandfather, whom I never met, was said to have played Ko-Ko in a community production of the Mikado decades before I was born. I did some strategic Googling and sure enough, found a notice about the production, mentioning him, in the Detroit Free Press from 1935. May Gilbert & Sullivan be passed down for another 130 years, at least!

Valley Light Opera presents The Gondoliers, music by Sir Arthur Sullivan, lyrics by Sir W.S. Gilbert, directed by Michael O. Budnick. Music Director, Aldo Fabrizi, at the Academy of Music Theatre, 274 Main St, Northampton, MA, November 2-11, 2018. Choreographers: Susan Edwards Dresser & Nicole Newell; Lighting Designer: Mike Freedman; Costume Designer: Laura Green; Props: Kevin Cox; Stage Manager: Achaetey Kabal; Technical Director: Steve Morgan; Set Designer: Steve Riddle.

Cast: Gianetta: Libby Maxey; Tessa: Kimaya Diggs; Fiametta: Donna Griffin; Vittoria: Heather Williams; Giulia: Nicole Newell; Marco Palmieri: George Eisenhauer; Giuseppe Palmieri: Christopher Marcus; Antonio: Robin Parsons; Francesco: Steven Williams; Giorgio: Jeff Erb; Annibale: Ted Fijal; The Duke of Plaza-Toro: Jonathan Klate; The Duchess of Plaza-Toro: Kathy Blaisdell; Casilda: Elaine Crane; Luiz: Brad Amidon; Don Alhambra del Bolero: Matt Roehrig; Inez: Lucy Robinson. Featured Dancers: Anju Diggs, Kimaya Diggs, Eli Dresser, Ripley Dresser, Donna Griffin, Sophie Kawall, Libby Maxey, Nicole Newell, Talia Sadiq, Heather Williams. Cameos: Young Marco: Eli Dresser, Amory Maxey (alternate); Young Giuseppe: Henry Maxey; Young Gianetta: Ripley Dresser, Sophie Kawall (alternate): Young Tessa: Talia Sadiq. Ensemble: Katherine Benfer, McKenna Cambo, Anju Diggs, Eli Dresser, Ripley Dresser, Anan Eisenstein-Bond, Gary Felder, Gordon Freed (Baptisto Palmieri), Deborah Jacobson, Sophie Kawall, Nina Levin-Pollard (Party Leader), ELysse Link, Amory Maxey, Henry Maxey, Marc McMenamin, David Mix Barrington (The King), Paul Peelle, Amanda Seymour, William Tobey.

The production goes up at the Academy of Music in Northampton November 2, 3, 9 and 10 at 7:30 with matinees November 4 and 11 at 2:00PM. Tickets are available at the Academy of Music box office or at aom.ticketfly.com. The Gondoliers is presented with the generous media sponsorship of New England Public Radio, 88.5 FM and The NEPR News Network.

REVIEW: Valley Light Opera Presents “The Gondoliers” by Jenny Hansell Is there anything sturdier and more resilient than a Gilbert & Sullivan operetta? There are occasional professional productions of…

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