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pandoraimperatrix · 2 years

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WANDERING WORLDS

DickKory | Core Four Centric | Cannon Divergence | Longfic

Summary:

Dick Grayson is dead. His life taken by his own brother. The Abel to Jason’s Cain. Consumed by grief, Rachel gives in to despair, losing control, a portal opens, but from it no destroyer of words come through. Instead a man who looks just like him, how can he be?

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*90's infomencial voice* Tired of Dick Grayson getting no character growth every season? Can stand the lack of development? The fact that we barely got any DickKory content since season one? I have just what you need! *normal voice* Okay, so in this fic Dick died, and Rachel pulled an alternative version of him from a dying universe, a version of him that will not take his family, Kory and his life for granted, he's not perfect, but he's doing his best.

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Chapter Fourteen – What stars do best

Much like when she was just back from Okaara, Kory felt like she was sleep walking. After five years living as a soldier, to be back at the palace, being waited around and having to get used with hierarchy that had nothing to do with her accomplishments. Being smothered in faux respect that she was just born into having instead of proving herself to earn felt empty. Most of her days back then, felt wrong, like a dream scenario in which she was just about to wake, but never did. It was no wonder that when the opportunity arrived, she jumped into a Spaceship and set route to far away from the Vega System.

It has been so long since she even remembered the sensation of fragile reality. Tamaran and Earth never seemed so closer.

The shiver that spread through her body when his deep sigh sent a wave of warm air against her neck didn’t exactly help.

“I always hated this things, did….”

Her hand changed it’s grip around the flute of champagne, trying to not break it, but also afraid it could sleep through her satin covered fingers and fall, making a scene.

“I don’t know,” she said with a soft hum, guessing the question before he could even finish “he never told me much about this part of his life.”

Never told her anything at all, she added bitterly. And she was never the detective in that relationship. Not she didn’t have tried her best. At some point she became to hide things too, secrecy rubbing on her like poison.

“I see that this world’s Bruce is also always late, ‘like a proper bride’ Alfred used to say,” he continued to mumble, mostly to himself. Kory bit her lips when he faked a british accent in his impersonation.

“I wish I had met him.”

“Al?” he looked at her then, but was he seeing her? Or it would always be someone else? “He’d like you.”

“You think?”

“Oh yes, I bet he would call you your highness and everything.”

Kory faked a dramatic groan.

“About that… Please tell me that the parties in your castle in Tamaran are better than this nonsense.”

It meant to be good-natured banter she knew, even genuine curiosity, but the déjà-vu was so powerful that she felt the wind being stolen from her lungs. Kory shaky hands wobbled the flute to her lips, but thankfully before she had to say anything or spilled the drink on her dress, the hosts were introduced and the attention moved to Bruce. He kissed Selina’s cheek and approached the pulpit in the centre of the small stage.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. When I was in my early thirties I was lost. I was older than my father ever had the chance to become and I had nothing to show as prove that I deserved to survive that horrible night. And then, a miracle happened in the form of a little boy” Kory felt him shift beside her, she turned her eyes away from Bruce to Dick. His jaw was tense, but his eyes were dry.

“Suddenly, I had a reason to live other than myself. I had under my care someone as broken as I once was, and a chance to prove to him and to my own heart, that life goes on, and that, although, the sadness over the loss of those we love and miss never really goes away, it can turn into a powerful force for good, it can become hope.”

Kory saw him suck a breath in and search for her hand, that she promptly took. Dick’s eyes met hers then, she tried to smile and he rose the corner of his lip on the side of the scar. Hope, Bruce said. Could it really become that?

“And now, I hope that the Richard Grayson-Wayne Community Center will help boys and girls in Metropolis and prove to them that every broken wing, with care, patience and love can heal, and together, we will soar to better skies,” Bruce rose his cup forward. “To my son, Dick. Thank you.”

They had to let go of each other to join the clapping that ensued.

“And now, that you have me on record saying all that emotional stuff, no doubt Miss Lane will write it’s only a strategy to manipulate money out of your pockets” the audience laughed politely, “enjoy the party!”

“Are you alright?” Kory whispered.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you, though?”

“I’ll be if you dance with me.”

The nerve of his of looking so pale and yet throwing her that line.

“Bruce will want to talk to you,” she warned him, but the smile on her lips was too hard to fight.

Dick pulled the half-empty flute of champagne from her hand and placed it on the empty plate of a passing footman.

“He made me wait until now, he can wait until the end of a song.”

Something inside Kory still screamed that she shouldn’t. X’hal, what she was even doing? Pretending with this man? But what else could she even do? Where would she even go? She had ran away to not have to be told what to do ever again, and now that she had her so called freedom, all she wanted was someone to tell her the path she should take.

Instead, Kory slid her arms around his neck, and let him sway her away with the music.

“It’s been a while since I did anything like this,” he said against her ear,” I apologise in advance if I step on your toes.”

She smiled but couldn’t think of anything witty to retort, just humming softly to disguise a moan when his hands closed around her waist, firmly, but gently leading them both across the ballroom. He smelled like something flowery, which was surprising, men of Earth usually chose forestry scents, she took a deep breath of it and laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

It did feel like a dream, the way his heart beat against hers, steady and real, how comfortably his shoulder pillowed her head, how perfectly her body fit in his arms, how safe she felt there, how easy was to just let go. Maybe… Maybe this dream could last. Maybe she was tired of denying herself the little piece of heaven that was close enough to grasp.

“You never told me she glowed,” Selina’s voice sounded so far away, it was had to open her eyes and acknowledge that the song was over.

With a sigh, Kory untangled herself from Dick, and smiled to the elder woman.

“You’re too sweet.”

Dick, who still had one of his hands on her waist, held her a little closer, pulling her attention back to him.

“No,” he had his eyebrows up in amazement, “she means literally, Koriand’r, you’re glowing, look,” he pointed to the decorative mirrors on the wall.

Shock and happiness filled Kory’s body when she saw herself covered in golden glow, euphoria so great that she felt her body lighting up, and before she made a scene ascending to the ceiling, she turned back to Dick, throwing her arms around his shoulders and holding for dear life.

“What is happening? Is something wrong with you?”

There was so much concern in his voice, and all she wanted was laugh so loud people would hear her in San Francisco.

“Wrong? No, not anymore. Dick,” she said, her hands sliding from his shoulders to his face, “I can fly.”

His smile began slow, and then took his whole face, dimples and everything, reaching his eyes. It was the first time she had seen him show honest joy like that, it was like her own happiness was spilling and contaminating him, and if Bruce haven’t cleaned his throat, maybe, just maybe she would have kissed him. And maybe, just maybe, he would not reject her.

“Good evening, Miss Anders. I’d recommend you to tone down the glowing if you don’t want to be outed as an alien. The room is filled with reporters.”

Kory felt her face heat up.

“In honesty, I can’t control it,” she laughed “never been able to.”

Bruce rose one eyebrow at that, and Dick, pulled her wrist as if he wanted her to get behind him, his face was stiff again, his eyes locked to Bruce as if waiting an attack.

“Let’s get her out of prying eyes, then” said Selina, grabbing Kory’s hand away from Dick, “and let you boys talk.”

Dick’s eyes moved away from Bruce seeking hers with a questioning look.

Kory didn’t seem capable to stop smiling, she rose her free hand back to his face, caressing his cheek with her thumb.

“See you later, Grayson.”

“Koriand’r…” he tried to protest, but Selina intervened.

“Kitten, let her go, don’t you trust me?”

Dick’s eyes remained locked to hers until he seemed to find something in them that reassured him that she wouldn’t disappear in thin air. Sometimes it felt like he knew, somehow, that he could read her like a book, all her worries. As if her soul had been confining in him whether she intended to or not.

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“So… things are going well between the two of you, I see.”

“Excuse-me?”

They had been walking through the gardens for a while, and then Selina stopped them both under a lighting post to disguise the dim glow that Kory was still emanating.

“I don’t mean to offend, you dear.”

“You didn’t, I was merely distracted,” she kept wanting to look behind towards the party, towards Dick.

“I was right, then?”

“No… It’s complicated.”

“Honey, complicated is my speciality.”

Kory smiled at her glowing hands, she wanted to test her powers, she needed to see how much she could yield. Of course she needed to charge, she needed the sun, and it was way past dusk, but if she could glow, and float, surely some of her fire was back too.

“It’s better than it was in the beginning, that I can say.”

“Better than the rendezvous in our tea room?” Selina asked in a coyly voice that contrasted with the shock that took Kory’s body.

“X’hal! How you know about that?!”

Selina giggled and held the hand Kory had taken to her mouth.

“No need to be ashamed, honey, I was young once too. The Manor security system is really thorough. Don’t worry, I deleted everything, not even Bruce knows.”

They stood in silence for a moment as Kory tried to expurgate the feelings of shame from her body. In Tamaran she would never have such reserves. Not about sex, at least, sleeping with someone you barely know ad that could very much be an enemy, maybe. She had been on Earth too long, she didn’t want to go native those regards.

“That was a mistake,” Kory finally said, taking a sip of her drink.

“Was it?” Selina hummed. “I used to say that to myself a lot too, but soon enough I found myself on my back or knees on some hard concrete rooftop making more mistakes.”

They exchanged a look and laughed. That eased Kory a little. Selina was different from the other Earthen women she had met. She had an air of freedom that Kory envied. Maybe because she was older and lived past the bullshit morality pushed towards Earthen women, or maybe it was just her personality. It seemed that she could make anyone do her biding and no one could tell her what to do. Couldn’t be easier to be like that and love a control freak like Bruce Wayne.

“How you do it?”

“How I do what?”

“How can you be with him when you know that in another world he killed you? How can you trust him?”

Selina laughed loudly at that.

“Honey, I’ve forgiven him for worse, and he forgiven me. And I’m pretty sure, that, in most parallel realities I’m the one murdering him. God knows the thought crosses my mind at least once a day.”

Kory smiled and shook her head.

“How long have you two been in love?”

Selina seemed to really think about it, playing absently to the string of pearls around her neck.

“Oh… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels it’s something older than both of us, starting from other lives.”

Kory really didn’t expect that answer or the honesty in which was said.

“That sounds romantic.”

“I know! You can’t barely tell that I spent my nine lives being a cynic bitch. Old age does that to you. With some luck, you will find out.”

“Lets drink to that,” said Kory rising her glass.

“To being old and mellow,” said Selina raising hers too.

“Cheers!”

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I’ve been asked before to write about Selina and Kory interacting, and I finally managed to do it! But the next chapter is the last one with the Waynes, after that, Dick and Kory go back home to their family.

Please leave a comment if you are reading this story, anything counts as encouragement to keep me going through the hiatus between seasons

#DickKory #Dick Grayson #Koriand'r #Nightwing #Starfire #Kory Anders #Richard Grayson #WW #Wandering Worlds #my fic #Titans LA #DCU Titans #Titans Live Action #HBO Titans

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gotham-exclusive · 3 years

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Dick: I always get so disappointed when I open the fridge and notice that I’m the only snack in this whole house

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justsomewritingblog · 2 years

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One Chance

Request: None

Requested by: Nobody

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x OC (kinda)

Prompt: Never had I seen someone look so lost in their own home before

Warnings: Sadness?

Word count: 2K+

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Everyone knew that Bruce Wayne hadn’t been out in years. He had been seen occasionally, but mostly remained locked up in his manor. No one knew what he did while he was in there, but if he left, it was all over the papers.

I set the newspaper I was skimming through beside me, realizing that I was no longer focusing on the words. Placing my hands on the armrests of my comfortable chair, I pushed myself to my feet, sighing as I moved to look out the window.

The sky in Gotham was never bright: instead being a muggy brown color when it wasn’t pitch black outside.

My eyes raked over the skyline, observing the loud city from the comfort of my apartment. I wasn’t foolish enough to call it ‘safe’. No one in Gotham was ever safe. Not really. Crime lurked around every corner, under every piece of litter and between every dirty building.

Journalism was always a way to try to spread the news about the city: to send the word to every decent person in Gotham that it needs help. To my displeasure, no one ever did.

Bruce Wayne had been on my mind for as long as I had been a journalist. His parents had a large impact on Gotham before they had been found dead. I simply wondered why Bruce Wayne had done nothing to help the city like his parents had.

I was determined to find out.

Picking up my bag, I slung it over my shoulder, grabbing my keys from off my writing desk, and walked out the door. I was sure to lock it behind me. Stepping out onto the street, I climbed onto my motorcycle, heading for Wayne Manor. Too many times I had tried to catch Bruce Wayne out somewhere. I couldn’t rely on that. I had to be direct.

Driving through the streets of Gotham always made my hair stand on end; as if someone was about to jump out of the shadows and attack me. The streets and muggy, dark atmosphere always felt suffocating.

I pulled up to Wayne Manor, taking the helmet off my head. Stepping off the motorcycle, I placed the helmet on the seat and grabbed my bag before I approached the door, pulling my brown hair out of its ponytail and rolling my hair-tie onto my wrist. I knocked on the door three times.

The sound echoed loudly before quieting again, taking the silence and amplifying it.

I readjusted my dress shirt, waiting for someone to answer the door. I didn’t have to wait long.

An average sized, well-dressed, older gentleman opened the door. His gray facial hair was well-kept, and he looked surprised to see me. “Good evening, miss,” he said, a curious tone to his voice.

I could pick out a faint British accent. “Hello. I’m Emily Miller.” I extended my hand for him to shake.

He accepted the offer, smiling slightly in return. “The journalist?”

“Yes.” Retracting my hand, I cut to the point. “I’ve come to speak with Bruce Wayne. I,” I paused, “assume he’s here.”

The man smiled, but I could see a hint of sadness in it. “He’s here right now.” Opening the door wider, he stepped to the side. “Come in.”

I smiled, muttering a quiet “thank you” as I walked in. Instantly, I was struck with how big and extravagant the inside was.

The ceiling was tall, far taller than seemed realistic or at all convenient. Everything seemed gothic and dramatic, having intricate designs everywhere.

I could only imagine how hard this was to clean.

“Follow me, miss.” The man walked away, me shortly behind him.

I was led to a study of some kind, seeing a hunched figure over a desk.

The man beside me cleared his throat. “Master Wayne, you have a visitor.”

The hunched figure looked up, his eyes landing on the man beside me before drifting to me. His eyes widened, shining with alarm before looking back to the man and muttering a quiet “Alfred.”

He sounded betrayed, and almost pleading.

The man, Alfred, clasped his hands behind his back. “This is Emily Miller, Master Wayne. She wanted to speak with you,” he said, nodding his head slightly.

Bruce Wayne swallowed what I assumed to be a lump caught in his throat. He looked at me, as if waiting for me to see his discomfort, apologize and leave.

He would be waiting a long time.

The billionaire, upon seeing that I hadn’t left, sighed quietly. He ran a hand through his hair, adjusting it so that it was back in place. He looked up at me. “Would you like to sit down,” he asked in almost a whisper.

I opened my mouth to respond, but I was cut off.

“Might I suggest, sir, the living room? It’s far more comfortable than the study,” Alfred suggested, smiling slightly.

Bruce Wayne looked at his butler silently.

They seemed to be having a silent fight.

The former stood, stepping around his desk. He moved to walk past me, but stopped. He looked down at me, not at my eyes, but at my shoulder. “Would you like some tea?”

It was mumbled, and he pursed his lips after he said it.

I nodded. “I would love some.”

Bruce Wayne’s eyes finally lifted to look at mine. His eyes were a piercing blue, intense and filled with so much emotion.

I wondered how many secrets and stories they held.

“What kind of tea would you like, miss?”

I turned to Alfred, tearing my gaze away from the billionaire. “Whatever’s fine.”

Alfred nodded before turning his attention. “Would you take Miss Miller to the living room, Master Wayne, while I prepare the tea?”

Bruce Wayne stared at Alfred for a few moments before nodding. His jaw clenched before he started to walk away.

Brushing some of my fallen hair back behind my ear, I followed him.

Never had I seen someone look so lost in their own home before.

Every time he turned a corner, he looked around, as if trying to recall exactly where the living room was.

I suppose that’s what happens when you live in a house of this size. Though, if he never goes out anywhere, I would have thought he’d know his own home like the back of his hand.

He finally found it and stepped in, sitting down on a sofa. His jaw clenched again.

I sat down on the couch opposite him, taking the bag off my shoulder and placing it on the ground by my feet.

His eyes shifted to it, his brows furrowing slightly as if he was trying to figure out what was in it, or why I set it down.

Pulling out my notepad and pencil, I set them on my lap before looking up at the billionaire.

His gaze instantly fell to the short coffee table between us.

I stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out where to begin. I knew where I wanted to go, but not how to get there. “Mr. Wayne, you’ve lived in Gotham your whole life; correct?”

He looked up at me, confusion shining in his irises. “Yes,” he said quietly.

I nodded, tapping my pencil against my notepad. “So you’ve seen the injustice, the crime, the fear, littering, pollution, and violence that goes on in the city?” While I gave it as a question, it was more a statement. If he lived here his whole life, I know he saw it.

It couldn’t be missed.

Bruce Wayne rubbed his palms together, returning his gaze to the floor. He swallowed before mumbling another “yes.”

I glanced down at my blank notepad before looking back up at the billionaire. “Mr. Wayne, your parents made a big deal about trying to better Gotham.” I left out the part that I always admired them for it: that wasn’t professional.

Bruce Wayne’s eyes softened, but his jaw hardened at the mention of his parents.

I opened my mouth to ask my next question, but hesitated.

How does one ask an orphan “why aren’t you doing what your parents did”?

I tried to swallow the sudden lump in my throat, but it wouldn’t go down. Normally I always pushed for the truth, not caring about offending anyone, especially those who can help but choose not to. But seeing Bruce Wayne here, now, he was nothing like I expected him to be.

He seemed nervous and uncomfortable in his own skin. He wasn’t at all stuck-up or selfish. He wasn’t prideful, and no one would ever assume he was wealthy if they saw him on the streets just by looking at him. His clothes and house were the only thing that showed his status. The way he carried himself seemed so careful and quiet.

He seemed lost.

Like he was still that orphan those years ago. He was still carrying it around; I could tell. It showed in his eyes. They were filled with so much sorrow and regret.

He was possessing a load that was too much of a burden for him to carry.

I cleared my throat, trying once more to get the lump down.

The billionaire looked up at the noise, but his expression shifted when his gaze landed on me. He looked thoughtful.

I could practically see the gears turning.

Alfred walked in suddenly, carrying a platter with a nice teapot and two cups sitting atop it. “I apologize for the wait,” he said, setting the tray down on the table. He handed Bruce Wayne one cup before handing the other to me. “I wasn’t sure which tea you would like, miss, but I finally settled for green. I hope that pleases you.”

I smiled. “That’s fine, Alfred. Thank you.”

Alfred nodded before turning to his master. “Anything else I can do?”

Bruce Wayne looked as though he wanted Alfred to get him out of this situation, but settled on shaking his head.

“Very well, then.” Alfred smiled. “If you need anything else, let me know.” He turned, exiting the room.

I took a sip of my tea, the lump caught in my throat finally being soothed by the warm liquid. I sighed in relief and contentment.

The man across from me took a small sip of his before placing it on the coffee table. His hands immediately found purchase in each other.

I stared down at my blank notepad. How do I continue this? I cleared my throat, opening my mouth to speak. “Why….” I trailed off.

“Why aren’t I doing more,” he asked quietly.

I forced my expression to remain as neutral as possible. I could only stare at him, trying to think of a response.

“It’s alright. I’ve heard it before.” His gaze fell to his joined hands.

My heart twinged with guilt. I had been one of those people. Inconsiderate and pushy. I wracked my brain to think of a different question. “Why do you think your parents were so inspired to do their part?” It sounded strained, even to my own ears.

He looked up again, eyes slightly wide.

I set my cup of tea on the coffee table, proud of my on-the-spot question. “Gotham is such a disheartening place. What made them stand up above everyone else? What was their driving force?” I picked up my pencil, ready to write down anything he might have said.

But he paused. His gaze dropped to the table and his eyebrows pinched together. “I…” he trailed off, “I don’t know.”

I let out a short laugh, glancing to the side before looking back at the billionaire.

He seemed confused by my laugh.

Perhaps he wasn’t used to the action or sound.

I wasn’t completely certain why I laughed, either. Maybe it was the underwhelming response that I didn’t expect. “Do you think it could have been that they saw the mess Gotham was in? Their love for you, perhaps…” I tried to prompt.

He rubbed his palms together again. “Perhaps,” he mumbled.

I stared once more at my notepad.

Blank. Empty. Nothing.

I wrote down the word ‘perhaps’ in the middle of the page in big letters, just to see something on it. I wasn’t getting anywhere.

He watched me stand, the action drawing his attention. He stood with me.

I picked up my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. “Well, thank you for your time.” I reached out my hand to shake.

He stared at it for a moment, as if afraid. After a moment, something kicked in, and he accepted my handshake. He forced a smile.

“I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me,” I admitted, even though he was practically forced into it.

He nodded, releasing my hand. “Let me show you to the door,” he muttered, striding past me.

I followed, wondering if he would have as much trouble finding the front door as he did the living room.

He found the front door without any trouble, turning to me once we arrived. He pulled the door open.

I bit back a laugh, keeping it at a smile. He’s kicking me out. “Thank you again. Tell Alfred ‘thank you’ for me, as well.”

Bruce Wayne looked a little taken aback but nodded.

My smile fell into a frown. My one chance was lost. I blew it. I briefly looked around the room again before my gaze once more fell onto the billionaire. I would never see any of it again. I surely couldn’t return after that invasive display. I tried to memorize the broken soul’s features for only a few seconds before turning around and leaving without another word.

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A/n: I’m actually pretty proud of this one! We’ll see if it stays that way in a few weeks. lol Just saw this movie last week (?) and I felt inspired. I actually like that the first bit sounds like an old ‘film-noir/detective’ thing. I didn’t even realize I was doing it at first, and I think it’s kinda funny. Anyways. Tell me what your McThoughts are, if you so please! :D Either way, I hope you enjoyed!

#DC #OC #Mara's works #Mara's imagine #My work #My imagine #Batman #Batman 2022 #The Batman 2022 #The Batman #Bruce Wayne #Robert Pattinson #Alfred Pennyworth #Emily Miller #fanfiction #mine

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tcm · 3 years

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Revisiting Oscar-Nominated and Winning Pictures By Susan King

We all have our favorite Oscar winners that we love to watch over and over again. But there are numerous Oscar winners and nominees that have gained new life thanks to TCM, HBO Max and DVD that are definitely worth revisiting. Here are some of my favorites:

RANDOM HARVEST

I interviewed the legendary funny man Carl Reiner a few months before his death and the conversation drifted to RANDOM HARVEST (’42) and how much he loved the romance. Robert Redford is also a fan. In the 1990s, he was planning on doing a remake, and in 2014, it was announced that Julian Fellowes (Downton Abbey) was hired to pen a remake. The handsome MGM production based on James Hilton’s bestseller starring Ronald Colman and Greer Garson was a huge hit that year and was nominated for seven Oscars including Best Film, Actor for Colman, Actress in a Supporting Role for Susan Peters and Director Mervyn LeRoy.

Both Colman and Garson had great success in other Hilton adaptations – Colman starred in LOST HORIZON (’37) and Garson made her U.S. film debut and earned her first Best Actress Oscar nomination in GOODBYE, MR. CHIPS (’39). RANDOM HARVEST is often overlooked by the other big MGM film released in 1942, William Wyler’s MRS. MINIVER. Not only was the stirring drama about a British family attempting to survive the years of World War II a blockbuster at the box office, but it also won a striking eight Oscars.

But I think RANDOM HARVEST is the more engaging film. It’s hard not to fall in love with this romantic tale with Colman at his most dreamy as a shell-shocked amnesiac veteran of World War I (Colman was wounded in the global conflict) named Smith who falls in love and marries a loving young entertainer (Garson). But Smithy, as Garson’s Paula calls him, is hit by a car on his way to a job interview and wakes up with no memory of the past three years but does remember who he really is – an aristocrat by the name of Charles Rainier.

Will true love reunite these two? The sigh level is very high with RANDOM HARVEST and this love story has a very strong place in my heart.

NONE BUT THE LONELY HEART

I’ve had more than a few people ask me why I like NONE BUT THE LONELY HEART (’44) so much. It’s depressing, they say. It’s downbeat, they say. But I think it’s a chance to see Cary Grant in a rare break out of his “Cary Grant” suave, sophisticated image. Adapted and directed by Clifford Odets from the novel by Richard Llewellyn (How Green Was My Valley), NONE BUT THE LONELY HEART casts Grant as Ernie Mott, a Cockney drifter who returns home to his Ma (Ethel Barrymore). When he learns that she’s dying of cancer, Ernie stays to help run her second-hand shop. But Ernie can’t stay out of trouble, joining forces with a gangster stealing cars and pursuing the mobster’s wife (June Duprez).

Meanwhile, his neighbor Aggie (Jane Wyatt) is madly in love with him and tries to save Ernie from a life of crime. The film was generally warmly received, earning four Oscar nominations and winning supporting actress for Barrymore. She shot her scenes during her two-week vacation from her Broadway triumph The Corn Is Green, and the Academy Award transformed the Broadway star into a much-in-demand film actress. She would go on to earn three more Oscar nominations.

Grant, who had earned his first Oscar nomination three years earlier for PENNY SERENADE (‘41), didn’t attend the Academy Awards where Bing Crosby won best actor for GOING MY WAY. Grant never earned another Oscar nomination, but received an Oscar honorary in 1970.

NIGHT MUST FALL

Handsome and charismatic Robert Montgomery was one of MGM’s top leading men in the 1930s, best known for his work in comedies including PRIVATE LIVES (’31) and FORSAKING ALL OTHERS (’34). Though he did an occasional dramatic part, nothing really stretched him as an actor until NIGHT MUST FALL (’37). Montgomery had long been bugging MGM head Louis B. Mayer for better roles. He supposedly allowed Montgomery to do NIGHT MUST FALL because the studio head thought the actor would be embarrassed when the movie failed. Montgomery later said, “they okayed me playing in it because they thought the fan reaction in such a role would humiliate me.” He went so far as to help subsidize the film’s production budget.

Based on the play by Emlyn Williams which ran on Broadway in 1936, NIGHT MUST FALL finds Montgomery playing Danny, a serial killer who just happens to have a trophy from his latest victim—her head—in a hatbox. Danny charms his way into the heart and home of a wealthy elderly woman (Dame May Whitty, reprising her London stage role). Rosalind Russell, who made five films with Montgomery, plays the elderly woman’s niece who has her suspicions about Danny but can’t convince her aunt that she’s in danger. Both Montgomery and Whitty earned Oscar nominations.

Though Montgomery returned to the comedy genre after NIGHT MUST FALL, he began directing films such as LADY IN THE LAKE (’46) and found great success in TV in the 1950s with the anthology series Robert Montgomery Presents, which often featured his daughter Elizabeth.

THE NAKED SPUR

Jimmy Stewart’s image took a 180 degree turn in the 1950s thanks to Alfred Hitchcock with REAR WINDOW (’54) and VERTIGO (’58), but most notably in the five Westerns he made with Anthony Mann. Far from the boy-next-door character he played pre-World War II, Stewart was transformed into conflicted, troubled men – anti-heroes who often could be as villainous as the bad guys who peppered these sagebrush sagas. (Mann also directed Stewart in three non-Westerns).

THE NAKED SPUR (’53), which earned a screenplay Oscar nomination for Sam Rolfe and Harold Jack Bloom, is my favorite of their collaborations. Stewart really digs deep into the character of Civil War veteran turned bounty hunter, Howard Kemp. He’s angry and bitter having lost his land during his conflict. Kemp hopes he can get his land back by working as a bounty hunter. And he’s doggedly determined to get outlaw Ben Vandergroat (a fabulously vile Robert Ryan). Along the way, he encounters two men (Millard Mitchell and Ralph Meeker) who join him on his journey. And when he finds Vandergroat, he also discovers he has a young woman (Janet Leigh) with him. Intelligent, often disturbing and brilliantly acted, THE NAKED SPUR is an exceptional exploration of the dark side of humanity.

#Oscars #Academy Awards #nominations #westerns #crime #drama #old Hollywood #classic #Jimmy Stewart #robert montgomery #Cary Grant #ronald colman #greer garson #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #Susan King

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thelittleredheadedmusician · 3 years

Text

I don't want to linger any longer

DCU Gen Rating: G Words: 7,523 AO3

In upstate New York there's a very lush, very expensive summer camp that caters to the children of the rich and famous. Bruce and Oliver happen to be those children. And they're less than thrilled to be at this camp.

Alfred was leery of the summer camp. Bruce went to public school partially because of Martha's pointed remarks regarding democracy and public education, partly because of her pointed remarks regarding Thomas's own time at boarding schools and prep schools surrounded by equally rich and entitled boys. Alfred never said anything at the time, it wasn't his place, and would never say anything now but, he whole heartedly believed both. Especially after his own childhood in private schools, even if the times and the British and American systems were very different. Regardless, Bruce was remaining in public school with all the trials it entailed. Including the socializing problem.

He'd always been a quiet, almost shy child but after Martha and Thomas died he retreated far beyond. Even friends from before like Miss Zatara took coaxing and occasionally trickery to get him to interact with. At thirteen and with the beginnings of acne and voice cracks the behavior was partially to be expected. The newfound interest in The Clash was too. Still, Alfred felt strongly that the boy should have the opportunity to at least try and make some friends. So when he overheard some of the women mentioning the summer camp during one of the Wayne Foundation luncheons Bruce insisted they attend "for appearances" (and Alfred was a little worried about the thought process behind that as well but well, one thing at a time) he had to break his normal rule and butt in.

"Pardon me, but what summer camp might this be?" He tried to be as nonobtrusive as possible, it still raised some eyebrows from the women with their pearls and perfect red lipsticks. Their clothes were so immaculate that while he knew they all had nannies, looking at them you never would've even known they had children. Alfred no longer owned a single shirt that wasn't stained somewhere by something, he just hid them well.

The blonde in the most putrid shade of chartreuse he's ever seen recovered first. "Oh! Camp Open Woods. It's in upper state New York, very exclusive but so worth it." Mimi flicked her wrist and half rolled her eyes as though to indicate sending the children she never saw there was the best parenting tip she'd ever taken. Mitzie shifted her hair before continuing, "They've got hiking and horses and like there's a lake." The other women all hum and coo their agreement at how pretty it is, Muffy silenced them with a brow, she was the one who started the story after all. "The kiddos just love it there. Go for a month a time. Would be there year round if they could!" They all nod enthusiastically in agreement.

"Sounds lovely." Which isn't strictly incorrect, but Alfred sincerely doubts these women would actually know whether their children enjoyed the camp or not. "I'll have to look into it, thank you," Alfred excuses himself. He will look into it.

The camp itself does seem the definition of picturesque, with acres of land and woods as well as the lake. The cabins looked to be clean and well maintained. The extensive list of activities alone made Alfred want to go. He reached out to the nannies he'd made friends with over the years, trying to gauge how any of the kids who attended regularly really felt. And the reviews were glowing.

Alfred made an executive decision, the fresh air would be good for Bruce, and called to secure a place for June. Just one month, to test it. Bruce might not be pleased at not having been consulted but Alfred was sure the end results would be well worth it. And if not, it's not like the boy could fire him in revenge. Legal guardianship made that rather tricky.

Oliver heard someone stop in the hall outside his room. From where he sat on the floor organizing the old jazz records his mother had given him he couldn't see who it was, the bed was in the way and he didn't really want to move everything just to get up. That seemed like a lot of work. Whoever it was could just come in. Or talk. Whatever. He wasn't moving.

"Are you in here, Oliver?" he finally heard his mother ask, apparently having grown impatient.

"Yes."

"I signed you up for camp. You leave for New York in the morning. It comes very highly recommended, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Chef is making your favorite chicken parmesan as a treat for dinner at six. I will see you then." The sound of her heels were nearly silent as she made her way back down the hall with its plush carpeting.

Taking a minute to process this, Oliver stared at the short shelves in front of him momentarily. Well there went his record organizing, now he was going to have to try and pack.

Bruce narrowed his eyes as Alfred slowed to turn the car onto a narrow lane that was barely a break in the trees. A large, wooden arch above it was carved to proclaim it as the entrance to "Camp Open Woods." Somehow, Bruce managed to narrow his eyes even more. Though he suspected it made him look like he was squinting. Especially by the way Alfred pressed his lips into a tight line, an obvious tell that he was trying not to smile.

The lane curved gently through the trees until they opened up to show a field, teenagers and college students in soft blue polo shirts and khaki shorts were scattered throughout it, directing cars in where to park and kids and parents in where to go next. A girl with brightly colored beads on the ends of her tight braids waved at Bruce through the window as they passed. Tentatively, he waved back at the counselor.

Once they were parked, the sleek black sedan settling a little into the grass as they both got out, Bruce immediately slung his backpack on and beat Alfred to the trunk to pull out his bulky footlocker. "Master Bruce," Alfred chided gently, reaching in to help lift the heavy thing, "I do wish you'd let me do that."

"It's fine, Alfred," Bruce protested. Even if the help was appreciated. "Isn't the whole point of this to teach me to be self-sufficient?" Bruce tried to level his steeliest gaze on the man. The unimpressed look he got in return told Bruce he might need to work on that.

Alfred sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in the process -- and really Bruce didn't think his actions warranted that level of dramatics -- before leveling a flat look at Bruce. "No, Master Bruce. The point of this endeavor is that you enjoy yourself with peers of your own age. Possibly make friends. Build lifelong bonds. Get a nasty sunburn on the first day and minor bear scare on the last."

Bruce frowned and lifted one end of the battered footlocker Alfred had dislodged from the attic the week before. Possibly, it had been Alfred's and come from some hidden corner of the man's room as Bruce had never seen it before even in all his exploring of the manor's nooks and crannies. "Exiting pursued by a bear is not a worthy goal, Alfred," he said dryly.

Lifting the other end of the footlocker the duo began to make their way towards the counselors with carts lined up at the front of the field. "Maybe not for yourself, but personally an exciting and Shakespearean end would be the greatest achievement of my mundane existence."

He snorted, and Alfred wondered where his own penchant for melodrama came from.

"Hiya folks!" The young man next to a cart already loaded with duffels and trunks waved brightly as they approached. "Welcome to camp! Where are you staying?"

Bruce glanced to Alfred and Alfred returned the look, both challenging the other to speak first. If Bruce admitted that he had read and memorized the pre-camp welcome packet then Alfred would see it as a win. If Alfred's patience crumbled before Bruce's then it would vastly undermine the veneer of authority Alfred had managed to paint over their strange relationship. The poor guy standing by the cart was starting to look uncomfortable.

Finally, Bruce broke. He was going to be here for a month, it's not like he'd have to see Alfred be smug during that time. "Pine Ridge," he said flatly.

The counselor visibly sagged in relief. "Ok, great! You're going to toss your gear on that cart up there where Gambit's standing then follow the road to the Health Center to turn in your paperwork and get your head and foot check."

Wrinkling his nose, Bruce nodded. He wasn't really a fan of being touched, even for medical examinations, and was a little glad he got a heads up. He'd briefly forgotten about the fact the packet had said there would be a lice and athlete's foot examination. Not that Bruce had either, which is probably why he'd let it slip his mind. They reached the next cart and a young woman with large sunglasses leant against it. Bruce squinted at the lanyard she had around her neck with an odd badge on the end as a nametag, all the counselors had variations of brightly colored and often glitter coated badges on lanyards. Each as unique as the names on them. Hers had popsicle sticks layered to make a large X and playing cards glued on top so that their back's made a place to write. "Gambit" had been scrawled in looping white paint. With red glitter. Bruce really hoped they weren't going to force him to make a glitter nametag.

"Are you living in Pine Ridge?" She asked, pushing off the cart to stand and raising her clipboard.

"Yes," Bruce said simply.

Gambit nodded. "You can toss your stuff on. What's your name?"

"Bruce. Bruce Wayne."

"Ok, double-o-seven," she smirked, checking off something on her clipboard. "I'm Gambit, head girls counselor for Pine Ridge. But just cause I'm not the one doing bed checks on you doesn't mean I'm not still in charge," she teased. Bruce was fairly certain he heard Alfred snicker. "Anyway, you'll be seeing a lot of me over the next month even though we don't share a latrine. You a first time camper?"

"Yes."

"Well then, welcome Bruce, Bruce Wayne!"

Alfred definitely snickered at that.

"Um, thanks."

She grinned and stuck her pen back behind her ear. "I'll watch your stuff until the grounds guys come and hook the cart up to the ATV to take it up to the cabins. Lucky us, we're on the hill. Nice site, one of my personal favorites actually, but you'll be getting your steps in while you're here. Whole summer or no?"

"Um, just the month." Bruce was starting to get a little overwhelmed in the face of her relentless positivity.

"Rad. Well, I hope you enjoy it! You're gonna want to follow the gravel road trail and head to the health center. I'll see you at dinner."

Bruce nodded and began to walk on, Alfred a step behind him. Once they were out of earshot, Bruce hung back slightly so that they walked next to each other and turned to Alfred. "Do you think everyone's going to be like that?"

"Well Master Bruce, I don't think that children's summer camp counselor is a position that attracts introverts," Alfred replied dryly.

Bruce glared.

"Which isn't to say, however, that every person here would be so enthusiastic."

"Hmm." Bruce didn't say anything else and they made their way to the two-story farmhouse that had a sign hanging from the porch proclaiming it the "Health Center" in silence.

A large group of people were spread out in the grass in front of the porch around a series of low, backless wooden benches. Bruce slowed as they approached, lingering on the gravel. Alfred gripped his shoulder once before gently pushing Bruce forward to step into the grass. Alfred was still a head taller than him, but Bruce was catching up and he couldn't wait for the day he could glare at the man without craning his neck. Alfred looked the picture of cool indifference and collected innocence.

"Excuse me," Alfred called, striding forward and fully expecting Bruce to follow. Which he did, but in silent protest. "Is there a queue?"

"Not really," the teenaged boy Alfred had asked shrugged. "Just give your paperwork to nurse Doc, then pick a spot on a bench and we play monkey."

"Monkey?" Bruce tried to raise an incredulous eyebrow. It was a work in progress.

The older boy's face split into a wide grin. "Yeah! You know," and here he began to howl and jump, scratching at his head in imitation of a monkey.

"Ohmystars, Apollo you're ridiculous!" Another teenager said, her silver painted crescent moon nametag read "Artemis" and the two did look like they could be siblings if not twins. "Theater kids." She rolled her eyes derisively.

Apollo stopped abruptly. "Arty, you're a theater kid."

"Tech kid. There's a difference," she snapped with practiced ease.

"She is correct," Alfred added sagely. Bruce's forehead met his palm as he hung his head.

"Thank you!" Artemis preened. "C'mon, I'll take ya in to Doc." She gestured at them to follow as she turned and headed onto the porch. Having no real other option, Bruce glanced at Alfred before following. Artemis had waited for them, holding open the screen door before shouldering open the second door and leading them into a large room with worn wooden floors and a table with a trio of adults sitting behind it. Some other children and parents stood in front of them and spoke with the adults at the table. Artemis winked and wiggled her fingers in a wave before turning to head back outside. But she stopped short and came to stand next to them again. "Actually, they don't need me out there right now and I'd much rather soak up the AC with you."

Bruce nodded. It was cold in here, especially compared to the muggy afternoon it was shaping up to be. And those polo shirts didn't exactly look comfortable. Neither did the crisp button up and khakis Alfred wore, but Bruce could count on one hands the number of times he'd seen Alfred in shorts or a t-shirt. The group in front of them shifted and Artemis lead them to the table. The burly woman on the end glanced up at them and smiled. Unlike the counselors, her nametag was a pin though she, and the other two adults at the table, still wore the light blue polo shirt. And her nametag also had sequins spelling out "Doc."

"Hey there, you have your paperwork?" she said by way of greeting.

Alfred produced a carefully paperclipped stack from somewhere. Bruce honestly had no clue where. Sometimes Alfred liked to do things like that just to puzzle him. Often times. Bruce was certain he did it routinely just for fun and Bruce's annoyance.

Doc took the stack and looked it over before leaning over to file it in a plastic tub and marking this off on a couple different clipboards. "Alright," she said finally, "you're officially checked in, Mr. Wayne. You still need to be checked over before we can let you run wild. But you're checked in. Welcome to Camp." She smiled broadly and held out a hand, Bruce shook it and managed a small smile in return.

Artemis led them back outside and instructed Bruce to sit, take off his shoes and socks, and wait for Apollo cause she didn't "do feet." Alfred chuckled as Bruce sat, his nose wrinkled, and Artemis took gloved hands and a comb through his hair. Apollo eventually reappeared as she declared him lice free and he poked at and spread Bruce's toes before proclaiming him "good to go!"

As Bruce pulled his socks and sneakers back on -- Alfred refused to buy him hiking boots because they wouldn't be broken in in time and apparently if Bruce was going to be miserable it was going to be his own conscious choice and not due to poor footwear decisions -- Alfred chatted with Apollo about a production of Midsummer that the counselor had done in fall. Finally, Bruce was standing up and slipping his backpack on again.

"Well, I'll let you say bye to your dad and then we'll go find your group," Apollo grinned.

"He's not-" Bruce started but the older boy had already walked away and started talking to one of the other counselors. "Hmph."

Alfred raised a single eyebrow -- Bruce wished he'd just teach him how to do that already -- and gave him a sly smile. "Well Master Bruce."

"Alfred."

They both stood there staring at each other. Finally, Bruce caved and stepped forward to wrap his arms around Alfred. "Bye Alfred," he muttered.

Returning the hug, Alfred replied. "I shall be back at the end of the month. I do sincerely hope that you enjoy yourself, Master Bruce. And I expect letters at least once a week. You should have more than enough stamps for that and if not you have credit at the camp store."

Bruce snorted at that before pulling away. "Thanks, Alfred."

Alfred smiled. "Of course, Master Bruce."

Apollo reappeared then and led Bruce to the edge of the trees and a path there. Bruce looked back once to see Alfred still standing by the benches, waving. Bruce waved back before turning to walk into the woods.

Oliver tapped his fingers restlessly on the formica topped table. The other kids all seemed to know each other and once the counselor escorting them to the dining hall left they immediately headed off to meet their friends. Not that he minded, Oliver was used to being alone and could function on his own just fine thanks. But all of these kids would be living with him for the next month at the least. They could at the very least come over and ask him who he was. But apparently, Pine Ridge was the largest unit at camp and so his age group was the biggest if they were staying there. And already there were at least twenty other kids who were all preoccupied and not noticing the blonde kid with a bad haircut.

Tugging at his recently shorn hair, Oliver frowned. He'd been trying to grow it out and it was almost to his shoulders when this morning his mother took him to the barber before putting him on the plane and shipping him off. Supposedly, she thought he'd be too hot with all that hair. Oliver just thought it was a convenient excuse. Oliver respected the trick even if he didn't like it. Especially because he didn't like the end result. His ears were still slightly too big and the cut just emphasized that. No girl would want to go out with a guy with satellite dishes attached to his head. Not that any girl seemed to even want to talk to him right now. Not that anyone at all wanted to talk to him. Maybe if he'd stop glaring at the table? But Oliver didn't really want to be here to begin with.

One of the dinning hall doors opened again and Oliver turned to look. The dorky guy who'd walked Oliver over, and only a dork would name themselves Apollo, and a new kid stood next to him. All dark hair and pale skin that Oliver bet was going to be looking like a lobster by the end of the week. He lingered in the doorway as Apollo said something and turned to leave, scanning the space in front of him. One of the other counselors walked over to meet him, he'd said his name was Sherlock and he was the head boys and Oliver secretly respected him for having the guts to name himself after the world's greatest detective. Sherlock was obviously introducing himself to the boy and Oliver was trying to figure out why the kid looked so dang familiar as his gaze landed on Oliver. And stuck.

That's when it hit him. That kid was Bruce Wayne. His parents talked about him all the time. Mostly, wondering what he would do with Wayne Enterprises once he turned eighteen and could take over and what that would mean for Queen Industries' contracts. Oliver had ever only met the kid once. Right after his parents had died and the whole Queen family had flown out to Gotham to "express their condolences" at the Wayne Foundation's Annual Holiday Party. It wasn't until a couple years later that Oliver realized how awkward the whole thing had been. But that was definitely the same kid, older now but his eyes no less haunted. Oliver blinked and turned away. Bruce Wayne was one kid he'd be happy to leave him alone.

Oliver never did have good luck.

"Oliver Queen?" The kid had come up behind him and without asking, walked around to sit on the bench across from him.

"Yeah?" Oliver winced as his voice cracked at the end. Stupid fraggin luck what the frickety heck stupid stupid puberty.

"I remember you." The kid still hadn't taken off his backpack. They were inside and it's not like someone was gonna steal it. Oliver's own sat on the bench next to him and he barely had anything in it anyway.

"Yeah?" This time his voice didn't crack. Small victory.

"I'm Bruce Wayne."

"Yeah."

The kid's brow crumbled in annoyance and he frowned. "Do you ever say anything else."

Oliver gave his cheekiest grin, oh this was too good. There had never been a more perfect set up. "No."

Impossibly, the kid's look got darker.

Oliver sat and smiled back. The seconds stretch out and Oliver just knew they were each waiting for the other to crack. Bruce continued to glare. Oliver continued to smile.

Finally, his cheeks started to hurt and Oliver took the loss. He was kinda starting to feel like an idiot anyway. "So, this your first summer?"

Bruce relaxed his glare but he still frowned. "I'm just here for a month."

"Didn't answer the question, Brucie."

The frown deepened. "Yes."

Oliver nodded. "Mine too," he admitted. Bruce finally seemed to relax.

"I'm... not sure what we're supposed to do," Bruce admitted, though it looked like struggled to.

Oliver let some of his bravado fall. "Yeah, neither do I. I think we're supposed to have fun, whatever that means."

Bruce's mouth twitched in the direction of a smirk. Oliver took it as a small victory.

"Hi!" A high voice warbled behind Oliver and he turned in surprise.

"Zee?" Bruce sounded just as shocked, though he apparently knew the girl that had just yelled in Oliver's ear. She settled heavily on the bench next to him and Oliver turned to look at her. Long black hair pulled up in a ponytail, bright pink shirt and darker pink shorts, light-up sneakers. She looked younger than him too. Which was confirmed when Bruce said "Aren't you too young to be in this unit?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "I turn eleven in July and I'm here for the summer so."

"That didn't answer the question," Bruce pointed out.

"And the unit is twelve to thirteen," Oliver added, finally recovering from his shock at her sudden appearance.

Pushing out her breath in annoyance, the girl flounced to her feet. "So, I may have heard that you were here and in the dinning hall and convinced my buddy to take a detour on the way to the latrine." She wiggled her arm in the direction of another girl shifting awkwardly by the side door. "We have to sit with our groups at dinner tonight but find me at breakfast tomorrow," she said it like an order and then ran off towards her friend and together they left.

"Alfred," Bruce muttered like a curse.

"Her name's Alfred?" Oliver felt like strange names were just a part of camp life but still.

"Her name's Zatanna." Oh, that was even weirder. "Alfred's my butler."

"Right," Oliver nodded like he understood. He absolutely did not. And Bruce did not seem like he would be explaining.

The counselors finally rounded them all up and made them stand in a wide circle, saying that they were going to count off and play get to know you games since one game of like forty people could be fun but maybe was a bit ambitious for first thing. Bruce told Oliver to stay where he stood before wiggling away further down the circle so that there was three people between them. Four groups of ten or so made logical sense and even if Bruce didn't know if he liked Oliver, he at least kind of knew Oliver and would prefer being in a group with at least one person he knew. So Oliver would have to be that person.

They both wound up being number three and Bruce leaned forward slightly to look at Oliver and smirk. The other boy just blinked back at him.

By the time dinner and the opening campfire rolled around, Bruce had come to the conclusion that Oliver wasn't his friend, but he was certainly one of the more tolerable of the other campers. As soon as he'd introduced himself as Bruce Wayne he'd been all anyone else could focus on. Even the kids not from Gotham looked at him with wide eyes. It made Bruce sympathize with the lions at the Gotham Zoo a whole lot more than usual. But Oliver acted like he didn't care. Oliver acted like he didn't care about anything. Just joking and smirking. He gained a gaggle of admirers over the course of the afternoon despite how downright obnoxious Bruce thought he was, but he still didn't seem to care that Bruce was Bruce and that's really all that mattered.

Besides, they apparently were in the same cabin. It just made sense that they hung out together. And if Oliver got sick of Bruce or Bruce got sick of Oliver well lots of kids wanted to ask Bruce all sorts of questions and everyone else seemed to love Oliver.

Even still, they sat next to each other at meals when Zatanna and an everchanging roster of her friends would flock to Bruce. Zee sitting herself down next to him and chattering on about what she'd done in the few hours they were apart. Oliver looked bewildered by the interaction every time. Bruce just nodded along at the appropriate points and asked questions as the fancy struck him. Sometimes he'd ask her stupid questions, like if she was sure the horse she rode that morning couldn't fly so that she would laugh and say she hasn't "learned levitation yet, you dingus!" Oliver's face when that would happen always made Bruce grin.

These meals were the bright spots in Bruce's day. He was... not having a good time. They'd had a swim test first thing Monday morning and Bruce had stupidly forgotten to put on sunscreen, so between swimming laps in the lake while the lifeguards made notes and sitting on the beach he'd very quickly burnt to a crisp. And would have to deal with that for the foreseeable future. Then on Thursday during their hike, Oliver had been behind him and tripped, stumbling into Bruce and pushing them both off the trail. Right into a patch of poison oak. So now Bruce had sunburn and poison oak. To say he was in constant pain was putting it mildly.

Bruce wasn't making friends. He wasn't enjoying the great outdoors. He was just slowly suffering in silence. Especially after Oliver left the screen door open one night and mosquitos had gotten in to use Bruce as their very own all you can eat buffet. So now Bruce was sunburnt, covered in mosquito bites, and still had poison oak.

Doc was really the only bright spot in this hellhole. Her air conditioned domain of the Health Center was quite and comforting. With individual exam rooms that meant Bruce could be completely alone for at least a little while. Which Bruce desperately needed. Being around people all the time was exhausting. And Doc herself had a wry, dry sense of humor that Bruce appreciated and a calm demeanor when Bruce sat and complained about the fact it was all Oliver's fault everything itched twice over. She would just snicker and have Bruce put some slightly odd smelling pink cream on his skin. Then she'd tell him that maybe he should write home about it. Bruce would frown and say "I will."

Alfred didn't seem to care though based on the letters back Bruce received. Or possibly the man was making fun of him. Most likely both. The end of the month really could not come soon enough.

Frankly, Oliver had no dang clue why Bruce flippin Wayne decided they were friends. Ok, "friends" was a stretch. But still, the kid spent more time with Oliver than anyone else at camp. Maybe he'd hang out with that Zee girl if she weren't in the younger group, and she did come have meals with them and wander over during all camps, but he didn't even really bother to even attempt to talk to anyone else. Oliver at least tried. If only because he was fairly certain he'd singlehandedly end the Wayne family line if he only talked to Bruce. Besides, the other boys in their cabin weren't terrible. Sure they were a little stuck up and that Brad guy had about the same amount of brain cells as Oliver's old hamster, but they weren't awful people. Which couldn't be said about all their fellow campers. Bruce had pushed one boy off the end of the dock the one morning after he said his third sexist remark in an hour. Oliver had gladly covered for him on that one. Another kid kept picking on two of the girls and Oliver might have possibly sort of filled his bag with rocks and as many spiders as he could find when he wasn't looking. He thinks Bruce saw him do it, but he never said anything once the kid got tired of carrying it and opened his backpack then immediately started screaming.

Neither incident had necessarily endeared Bruce to Oliver though. Especially since the kid had somehow managed to tip their canoe while they were in the middle of the lake. So they both floated there buoyed by their life vests spluttering water and trying to right the stupid canoe while screaming at each other and kicking madly. In the cold lake. They never did manage to flip the boat and the counselors had to come with the little motorboat to fish them out of the water. They were still glaring at each other after Sherlock had taken them to get showered and fresh clothes. He let Bruce mess around with his nametag as he ran their wet, smelly stuff into the Health Center and throw it in the washer that was supposedly there. Oliver was still pissed though so he ripped the plastic magnifying glass out of the other boy's hand. Sherlock's name was just a label stuck onto the handle so you could still use it. Which Oliver immediately did in an attempt to burn Bruce's shoelaces.

Which is about when Sherlock came back. "Hey! Oliver! Cut that out! Seriously dude, what're you doing? And Bruce, you were just gonna let him light your shoes on fire?"

Bruce shrugged. "I have other pairs. And I did dump him in the lake."

Oliver handed the nametag back and nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, he's the one who thought he saw a frog and tipped the thing."

"A fish, not a frog."

"Whatever."

"And you gave me poison oak."

Oliver frowned and scratched at some of his own poison oak. "That was not intentional and I have it too."

Sherlock looked between them. "Right. You two are supposed to see Doc soon anyway, wanna go in now?" They both nod and that was the end of that. For then at least. That night Oliver got up to go use the latrine and forgot to close the screen door again. All five boys in the cabin wound up eaten alive and never mind the fact Oliver was just as itchy, Bruce acted as though he'd planned it just to mess with him.

Still didn't excuse the fact that the jerk got them lost and banned from the stables on the following Monday. Oliver liked the stables. He thought the horses were cool and they seemed to like him. He'd tried to schedule as much riding time as they'd let him after the initial group session. Bruce just so happened to have scheduled some on Monday morning too it would seem. And they both were the same ability level. Great. But they were doing a trail ride, going single file through the woods at the edge of camp, didn't leave a whole lot of room for talking and Oliver was more than ok with that. He wound up behind Bruce at the very back of the group and took it at a leisurely pace which Pancake didn't seem to mind. So long as Oliver stayed behind Bruce he just zoned out. Taking in the forest with its sounds and smells, the warm horse that swayed gently as she walked making him sway too. Oliver should've been paying more attention. Because Bruce decided to take his horse on a bit of an adventure. The two were wandering through the woods for an hour before Oliver realized that Bruce had hijacked a horse and gotten them lost. Another two before anyone found them. They'd completely missed lunch. And they were banned from horseback riding.

Not that Bruce cared, he was only here another two weeks.

Oliver had two whole months.

It's not like his father recognized he ever existed half the time, but his mom sending him off to the other side of the country was a bit much. He'd thought they had an understanding. Apparently not. And now he wouldn't even get to ride the horses.

Which Oliver naturally thought was overkill for himself but it was totally punishment for Pancake too. They had bonded. Not that the riding staff seemed to care when he tried to plead his case. Knox looked a little sympathetic at least. And she called after him when he'd turned to walk back over to Brad and maybe go play volleyball or something. "Oliver!" Knox said again and he paused. "I'll talk to Bambi and see about a probationary period or something. Maybe clean some stables or just make it a two week ban since you're here all summer. Kay?"

Oliver grinned. "Thanks." She returned the smile before turning to go back to mucking stalls and cleaning the tack.

Archery, Bruce decided, was the worst. It slapped his reddened and itchy skin even with the arm guard on. The smaller bows they had were too easy for him to pull and sent the arrows almost skittering at the target when he released. The bigger ones and the compound bows were too heavy a draw though and Bruce's twiggy thirteen year old arms just didn't have the strength. Oliver didn't seem to like it either. He seemed like the type of guy who had everything handed to him and most of the sports came naturally to him. Archery didn't. It clearly frustrated him that while he managed to hit the target he couldn't hit the center. Or even the yellow rings just outside it. He managed to pepper the blue ones every time. He could at least use the larger recurve bows at least. Which Bruce wouldn't admit to but was supremely jealous of.

"You just gotta practice, you'll get there!" Legolas reassured him. Bruce and Oliver both raised skeptical brows at that. Legolas had gotten his name because he was a crack shot. Hitting the bullseye just about every time. His encouragement wasn't as meaningful as he meant it. Especially when there was a rumor going around that the other counselors had dared him to shoot an arrow off of someone's head while blindfolded. And that he had managed it. "Though not today," he laughed after checking his watch, "we need to clean up for lunch."

The boys and other campers all turned their bows in and Legolas set them in the shed before returning and sending them to collect their arrows. By the time they were all cleaned up a couple other counselors had wandered out of the woods where they must've gone for a hike on their breaks and decided to head with them to lunch. A week and a half of camp had all the kids falling into a buddy line without even being told and Oliver fell in next to Bruce out of habit. Beaker made them do a headcount, checking each camper off on her list, and let Legolas lead them off toward the dining hall. He also started to lead them in some insipid song about a worm getting stuck in a straw. Legolas would shout a line and around Bruce all the other kids would eagerly shout it back. Even Oliver. Bruce would rather actually swallow a worm.

Inside the dining hall was the usual premeal chaos as counselors took their assigned tables and yelled across the room to each other. Kids swarmed around trying to find seats next to friends or at tables with specific counselors. Bruce scanned the space when a small arm covered in bright string bracelets -- and there hadn't been that many at breakfast, Bruce was certain -- shot up and waved towards him enthusiastically. "BRUCE!" Zatanna bellowed. He was fairly certain she'd pushed her magic into it because he could clearly hear it over everything else. That, or Zatanna was just disturbingly loud.

Bruce began walking to the table she was at and the two seats she appeared to be guarding with her life. Oliver followed and Bruce couldn't explain why. Well at least not beyond the fact that it was just what they did anymore.

"Hey kid," Oliver said by way of greeting. Zatanna preened and smiled. She was a ten-year-old queen and this table was her court. Just no one beyond the three of them knew that just yet.

"Hi Ollie. Oh! I want you guys to meet Hartley! He lives in the cabin two over from mine. He really likes music," Zatanna told them breathlessly, pointing at the small redhead next to her. Bruce and Oliver both sat down across from the two as more kids took the spots further down the table. Oliver waved at the boy while Bruce just nodded. "That's Oliver and that's Bruce, he's my best friend," Zatanna told Hartley and pointed at the two older boys.

Bruce frowned at Zatanna and was glad to see the boy looked skeptical when he glanced between Bruce and Zee. "Isn't he a little old to be your best friend?" he asked a little too loudly.

"Yes." Bruce said. "And we're not best friends."

Zee pouted. "Well until Oliver I was your only friend."

"We're not friends," Bruce and Oliver corrected her at the same time.

"Sure," she said with an eyeroll.

The poor boy she'd dragged into this looked so confused. "So, how old are you?" he finally dredged up the courage to ask.

"Thirteen," Oliver sounded smug. Bruce just nodded.

"Oh." Hartley seemed to shrink in on himself.

"How old are you?" Zee asked, genuinely curious.

"Eight." He was still a little too loud when he spoke, even though he seemed like he was shy.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. He'd been practicing and he knew it wasn't as smooth as Alfred's but Oliver provided infinite possibilities to practice and it was still leaps and bounds better than a week ago. "Aren't you in the nine to eleven group?" he asked Zatanna.

"Yeah," she frowned. "Hartley, how'd you wind up in my group?"

He shrugged. "I skipped a grade and my mom kinda bullied them into putting me in by grade instead of age."

Oliver seemed to hum in understanding. Bruce just felt himself frown. Zatanna met his eye with a slight frown of her own. The moment passed though when one of the counselors started the quiet clap and everyone shut up and turned to pay attention.

Oliver was officially tired of camp by the last week of June. A racoon had gotten into their cabin the day before and went though literally all of their things. It didn't eat or destroy anything though, just wanted to make chaos by rubbing its tiny hands on everything apparently. Sherlock had to make another laundry run for them. Gambit had heard about it over the radio and claimed a golf cart just so she could come laugh at the mess before they managed to clean too much of it up, having been off on her break at the time. She left the cart for Sherlock before heading to her own cabin for the rest of her break, laughing the whole way. The other counselors in the unit made a fire for the boys while everyone else got ready for bed and they waited for their sheets and sleeping bags to be washed.

Unfortunately, Oliver had a whole two more months to go. He was officially less than pleased with his mother for this grand idea.

Luckily, Knox found him before the Final Campfire for those who were only there for the month. Taking long strides up the wide stone steps of the amphitheater to where he sat next to Bruce. Zatanna and her little friend Hartley on Bruce's other side. They all watched as the barn staffer made her way towards them, standing out in her jeans and tall muck boots while everyone else was wearing shorts. "Hey, Ollie!" she called as she approached, obviously not realizing that she already had everyone's full attention. "I just got back from the barn and I wanted to be the first to tell you that your ban has been lifted! You're allowed to come back starting Monday, since Bruce is leaving." Here she grimaced over at Bruce. "Sorry, but Bambi kind of decided you were the responsible party and Ollie just collateral damage. Very foolish collateral damage." She didn't bother to apologize for that one though as she turned to look back to him. "So Pancake will see you Monday? She's missed you."

Oliver nodded eagerly. "Yes. Absolutely. I'll talk to Sherlock about changing my schedule right after the campfire."

Knox nodded. "Sweet. Ok, I need to hit the showers. Bye all! I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow!"

They all said their goodbyes and Oliver couldn't stop smiling. Camp still sucked and the one person who made it interesting at least was leaving tomorrow, but at least Oliver's ban had been lifted. He could spend the rest of summer riding horses.

Bruce thought that he'd never been happier to see Alfred in his life. The man stood on the porch of the Health Center, talking with Doc when Artemis came to collect him from the dining hall where he'd been sitting on the steps, avoiding singing camp songs. The irony of Apollo taking him to the dining hall at the beginning of the month and Artemis leading him from it at the end was not lost on Bruce. Nor was it lost on Alfred by the sly grin he had when he saw who walked with Bruce. "Have a safe trip home!" Artemis said brightly before heading to Bugs, the camp director, and getting the name of the next camper she was to fetch.

"Well Bruce, I'm sorry that the circumstances weren't better but I'm glad I got to know you," she said and held out a hand that Bruce shook. "Maybe I'll see you next year? And if not, keep in touch. Mr. Pennyworth has my mailing address, maybe you can write me some of your famous letters."

Bruce smirked. "I will."

Doc laughed and the corners of Alfred's mouth twitched. "Shall we, Master Wayne?" he asked. "Your footlocker has already been loaded and you have officially been checked out."

Nodding, Bruce eagerly turned to go search the field for the car. He thought to look back once and wave to Doc, but then he was off and moving. He closed the door hard after he climbed in. Alfred started the car but didn't shift into gear. They just sat there in silence as the vents slowly began to push out cold air.

Finally, Alfred asked what he wanted to. "How was camp?"

"Never again, Alfred. Never. Again."

"That bad?"

"Didn't you get my letters?"

Alfred finally pulled out of the field and started down the long drive towards the road. "I did. I had just assumed that you were exaggerating as is your penchant."

Bruce glared at him. "You were talking to Doc."

"And I realized that you were not exaggerating."

"Never. Again."

"Yes, Master Bruce."

#dc comics #bruce wayne #oliver queen #alfred pennyworth #zatanna zatara #fanfiction #fanfic #my fic #own writing #writing #annataz #yes alfred

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mrs-daddyissues · 3 years

Text

considerably

~ C H A P T E R 8 ~

~ Masterlist ~

Pairing: Alfred Pennyworth x OFC

Series Summary: Sarabi Nichols is Bruce Wayne’s life long friend that aids in creating weaponry and making outfits. When she was younger she had a thing for Bruce but now her taste has aged. Considerably. Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce’s guardian and butler is more her style now. Despite this knew found liking, Sarabi feels trapped. She can’t talk to Bruce about it and clearly can’t mention it to Alfred. The only person she has is her best friend, Claudia. Sarabi has to fight the things she feels for the older man because he could never feel the same way back, right?

{Normal} Playlist

{Slowed+Reverb} Playlist

Warnings: Swearing, sexual references

Word Count: 1831

Author’s Note:

If you didn’t see it in my last post, I just wanted to say that I am returning to work soon so my posting schedule will not be as consistent. Apologies but for now, enjoy!

Sarabi’s eyes fluttered open as soft morning light filtered through her curtains. She felt warm and tingly all over but couldn’t remember having a sex dream that night. She felt around her nightgown and found no evidence. Suddenly, like a large wave, all the previous night’s events replayed in her mind.

She remembered the way every person stared at her as she graced those stairs. She remembered dancing with that old guy and then with the young, skinny Edward Nygma that she introduced to Claudia.

But the thing that was making her feel so pleased was the moments she shared with Alfred. She recounted their sensual dance as if they’d done it millions of times before and the way he talked to her in his jealous almost possessive tone. The dance and the small encounter that happened afterwards replayed in her mind and made her sigh contently.

At that moment, her phone pinged. She turned over with a gruff and grabbed the phone. On her screen was a text from Claudia.

So...did you get some? ;)

Sarabi’s smile faded when she realised what this all meant. She would have to face Alfred today and what was she supposed to do? Act like nothing happened or address the ache in her core that had started building. She felt a pinch of annoyance as she thought about how she could’ve ended the night with Alfred in her bed.

Sarabi rolled back over and slapped her forehead. ‘What the fuck am I suppose to do?’ Sarabi stressed over and over again before deciding to text Claudia back.

No, did you?

Sarabi tried to distract herself by making conversation with Claudia but it didn’t help. Her body yearned for Alfred in a way it hadn’t before. Sarabi knew this stronger craving was because of how close she got to what she wanted last night. She didn’t know how long she could stand it.

Aw, that’s too bad. You’ll get him eventually. And yes I did get some and it wasn’t half bad.

Sarabi was glad Claudia had some fun but now she wanted to have her own fun. She didn’t know what to do but she knew Claudia would.

What the fuck should I do? Do I act as if nothing happened?

Sarabi texted, hoping that Claudia had all the answers she needed.

Talk to him. When you get a spare chance. I might come over later and we can discuss it further, alright Sarbi? Gtg but I love you and go get some ;)

Claudia’s answer made Sarabi’s nerves fly through the roof but she made the decision. She’d discuss it with Claudia, hopefully, and get all the advice she needed. She would then, when she got a private, spare chance, talk to Alfred and see what happens. It could ruin everything they had but if it went the way she wanted, it could have some of the most delicious payoff.

Please, come over. I need your guidance, wise one! Love ya.

She texted back almost instantly. Sarabi knew it was the only way to know for sure. If she didn’t talk with him she would never know.

Sarabi managed to avoid Alfred for the day as he was in the ballroom helping clean up. Sarabi busied herself with work in the cave that ranged from weapons manufacturing to hacking into security cameras and surveying crime. In retrospect, she’s very glad that Bruce had that gala because now Alfred would be away for the whole day.

Halfway through the day, Sarabi realised what she was doing was useless so she retired to her room. Having no clue what else to do, she read, watched some TV and even had a random shower. She was bored and kind of wishing she had some sort of work to do.

“Miss Nichols?” The sonorous British voice registered in her ears while she put away a pair of socks. She turned around quickly and felt all rationality leave her mind. Everything she had prepared before was completely washed from her mind like a sandcastle during high tide. She marvelled at how Alfred, without any effort, could make her mind unravel like that.

“Miss Nichols?” Alfred’s head inclined when Sarabi didn’t respond. She then quickly snapped out of her trance and shook her head, her curls bouncing on her shoulders.

“Yes, Alfred?” Sarabi let go of a shaky breath as her heart thumped against her chest.

“Miss Flynn is here to see you,” Alfred responded with the most professional voice Sarabi had ever heard him use. It was like he was trying to be overly professional.

“She didn’t tell me she would be here,” Sarabi wasn’t surprised though, Claudia was the ultimate best friend. She was there for her whenever she needed it.

Sarabi walked up to where Alfred was standing and watched how his eyes flickered down to her lips and back up to her eyes. Sarabi gave a similar stare to Alfred hoping he would just confess to her first. The tension between the two was thick.

After the dance the two shared the feelings between the two seemed much hotter and heavier. The tension was extreme and almost unbearably. She would love to get it other with and jump Alfred’s bones but he had other plans.

“Miss Flynn is waiting,” Alfred reminded Sarabi as her body moved closer to his. Sarabi didn’t even notice she was doing it.

“Right, thanks,” Sarabi quickly scurried away to find Claudia watching from the bottom of the staircase.

“Did I interrupt?” Claudia asked with a worried but playful tone. She hoped she hadn’t interrupted an important moment but also hoped that things were moving forward.

“You interrupted nothing, let’s go,” Sarabi grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her along.

“Where are we going?” Claudia questioned, thinking they would just talk at Wayne Manor.

“Anywhere but here,” Sarabi responded, she looked back to find Alfred watching her from the staircase. Those eyes were burning into her but as soon as Sarabi caught them, he turned around and walked away. The voyeuristic stares shared between the two were growing in number. Sarabi had no idea what to do about it. Sarabi just hoped Claudia had all the answers.

The two girls ended up having lunch at some swanky 50s style diner in downtown Gotham. They were seated at a red leather booth in the very corner. Claudia had in front of her a cheeseburger, fries and a large coke. Sarabi consumed and thoroughly enjoyed a hot dog, fries and a cherry cola milkshake.

While they ate, they discussed everything that needed mentioning.

“So, how was Edward Nygma?” Sarabi wanted to know all the details and knew Claudia would share them without a care in the world.

“He’s got some weird quirks, that’s for sure, like he kept giving me riddles the entire night but I like riddles so it was kinda cute. We went back to my place and did it in my bed, on my couch and on my kitchen counter,” Claudia listed off the places she had sex with Edward Nygma and Sarabi scoffed.

“Jesus Claudia! I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up with an STD at some point,” Sarabi took a sip from her milkshake while Claudia rolled her eyes.

“They’re called STIs and I get tested regularly, I also always use protection,” Claudia stated matter-of-factually while shoving a bunch of french fries in her mouth.

“Is that what you did with Edward?” Sarabi teased and Claudia threw a fry in retaliation.

“No, but yes,” Claudia answered and the two girls giggled like school children.

“So, was he good?” Sarabi inquired, throwing a fry back at Claudia.

“Well I fucked him 3 times on 3 different surfaces, so,” Claudia chuckled while the waitress walking past stared on in disgust.

“I’m guessing he was pretty good,” Sarabi watched as the same waitress’ mouth hung open in utter disbelief. Sarabi had no idea what was wrong, they were talking quietly so the family a couple of booths over couldn’t hear and it was a free country after all. Sarabi just rolled her eyes at the waitress and she went on with her duties.

“Who are you rolling your eyeballs at?” Claudia looked behind her in the most unsubtle fashion and Sarabi slapped her arm.

“The waitress, now turn around before you get us kicked out,” Sarabi pulled Claudia by her shirt back into her seat and she pouted her lips in mock sadness.

“Okay, mother!” Claudia chastised with an overly dramatic eye roll and huff.

“Can we talk about Alfred now?” Sarabi looked around cautiously and she had no idea why. It’s not like Alfred would be around or had supersonic hearing.

“Right, right, right, let’s get down to business,” Claudia clasped her hands together and leaned against the table as if it was an interview.

“You reckon I should just talk to him?” Sarabi scratched the back of her neck nervously at the thought of confessing her feelings.

“Yes girl, definitely! Talking sorts everything out. You just sit him down and tell him how you feel,” Claudia explained as if she’d given the same talk a million times.

“But I don’t know how I feel,” Sarabi huffed in annoyance. She didn’t know if it was love, liking or something entirely different.

“Of course you do. Look deep into your heart and look. Do you find Alfred there?” Claudia spoke in a soothing voice as if she was a yoga instructor.

“As if Alfred is where?” Sarabi queried, confused beyond belief. Claudia could be overly poetic sometimes.

“Your heart, dipshit! Do you see him in your heart?” Claudia allowed ample time for Sarabi to take a look.

Sarabi let her mind wander to the man being discussed. She felt the suave brilliance that followed him wherever he went. She saw his beautiful locks of hair and deep brown eyes. She heard his voice, low and rich with expression and British excellence. She could also smell his aroma, musky and deliciously masculine with the right hint of cologne. She experienced Alfred in every facet. She saw him, heard him, smelt him and felt him. He was everywhere. He was on her mind, behind her eyes, burning her core and in her heart.

“Yes, I do,” Sarabi opened her eyes and saw Claudia smile mischievously.

“Then you love him! Simple as that, do you see yourself with him in the future?” Claudia took another fry and swallowed it greedily.

“I hope so,” Sarabi took a gluttonous gulp of her cherry cola milkshake, feeling the cool, sweet liquid burst in her mouth.

“So yes. It’s love, girl and believe me I do know what love is,” Claudia reassured when Sarabi’s head cocked to the side.

“So I love him?” Sarabi’s mind seemed to clear when the realisation hit.

“I do. I love Alfred,” Sarabi admitted to herself and for once, she felt relieved.

For once she knew what she was, she was in love.

<<CHAPTER 7<< ~ ~ ~ >>CHAPTER 9>>

#dc #dceu #jeremy irons #jeremy irons fanfic #jeremy irons fanfiction #alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth fanfic #alfred pennyworth fanfiction #ofc #alfred pennyworth x ofc #jeremy irons x ofc #smut #love #slow burn

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iwritethat · 4 years

Text

Bruce Wayne: Ladies Man

A/N: A bit of Batman because I don’t have enough on here.

>>>>——————————>

It was simply a side job, in Gotham such honest living was difficult to come by so when an old friend of the family offered you a waitress position at their bar you couldn't refuse whilst getting through school at 16. Who wouldn't want to earn some cash right? Surprisingly they upheld a few laws, like not letting you serve alcohol but if you remained then it would be something you'd learn among other things.

After 2 years, one interesting thing about the job was the vast variety of customers the bar attracted. You intermingled with the likes of Gotham royalty, both of upper class and the underground depending on the day and being a long term employee meant they remembered your name whether you liked it or not. Unfortunately, due to your uncanny ability to charm just about anyone, you were the pub favourite often requested to serve and the owner adhered to the requests of the wealthy for obvious reason - plus they tipped you generously.

Among these was young bachelor Bruce Wayne, you were on a first name basis with how often his friends came in clubbing. They weren't 21 but money and fake IDs do the talking. Although you cared not for their names, it was Bruce who seemed more mysterious and calculating than he'd ever let on.

Tonight he sat at the bar in contemplation, a member of his group snogging the face off of some lass rather lazily in your opinion.

"I'm surprised you aren't indulging in the same luxuries." You casually addressed your friend, sliding your platter onto the bar and leaning on it beside him gesturing to the aforementioned pair.

"I'm not great at charming women yet. The status does it all for me right now."

"You can't rely on that! You're Bruce Wayne, I expect you to be smooth and have me falling at your feet. What if there's a girl you really like who won't care for your status hm?" He raised a brow at your playful tone, but you'd captured his interest as you usually did unintentionally.

"I don't know, I haven't met one yet."

"Alright then we're going to prepare for that day so she'll be wanting more. C’mon, show me." You patted the bar for emphasis, smirking at his suddenly confused expression.

"Right here, now?"

"Dazzle me." Came your simple yet upbeat response as you gestured him to bring it.

"Okay fine. So uh... you come here often?" Bruce attempted rather awkwardly, leaning against the bar in a way he thought to be seductive as you remained unreadably silent.

"Pfffttt that's the best you've got?" You couldn't hold your laughter for long, head falling into your arms on the bar to stifle them.

"No - no! (Y/n) it's not that funny..." He hummed, lightly nudging your arm to regain your full attention.

"You're right, I just - it was so bad. You're so crap at flirting it hurts!"

"Oh? How would you do it then?" For someone so young, he was challenging and you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it.

You ran your hands through your hair, fingers gently grazing his arm with a gentle bite of your lip.

"Now now, we can't have you falling for a mere waitress now can we?"

"You're not just a waitress (Y/n)..." His gaze followed you around the bar as you now learnt over it with a courteous smirk.

"Right there - you watched me walk away, I already have you hooked right?"

"Wait - that didn't - you didn't use a pick up line or anything! How does that even count?" Bruce looked back and forth, stammering once coming to the realisation that you'd charmed him so easily whilst you leaned back to clean a glass.

"Look, chances are that pickup lines are only going to be laughed about and to break the ice anyway, after that you've just gotta be yourself. The people who are worth it will stick around." You gave a haphazard shrug with a genuine smile on your lips and you nodded to the billionaire across from you. It always caught him off guard, the amount of wisdom you held for someone only his age.

"Like you?"

"There are better people in the world than me Bruce Wayne."

—

The air was bitter as you stood outside the usually welcome doors of your workplace, ones that remained closed due to recent occurrences. You held the keys and deed between your fingers, fiddling due to the unfamiliar weight of newfound responsibility - the owner was always a mysterious man, striking resemblance to a character from Kingsman adorned with a British accent and designer suits. Even so his death came as a shock, his Will stating that his bar and all its contents be passed on to you even more baffling.

"The only thing you'll catch out here is a cold." A calm but witty voice commented, the man now standing beside you expecting your signature snark.

"What are you doing here?"

"I heard the news, and I thought you might like some company doing this. I know you could handle it but I'm here." Bruce casually answered, your friendship remained constant through the years even if surprising. It seemed you just couldn’t get rid of each other.

"Is it a nightclub? Pub? Restaurant? A combination of all that? Is that even legal? I can't run this place - I don't even know what the hell it is! And the customers - they’re... well, some of them are illegal..." You grimaced at your overwhelmed outburst, palm slipping from the door it once had the intention of opening.

"Hey, why don't you come over to the Manor? I've got the evening free and we can go through it all together, and I'll attempt to lighten you up as we go." You were carefully torn from the door, the millionaire holding your hands in his, the warmth a welcome comfort from the breeze of Gotham.

"The key word in there was 'attempt', wasn't it?" You met his concerned gaze now, tone holding expectant sarcasm despite remaining laced with defeat.

"It has been said that my brooding can get in the way." Bruce responded, hand rubbing the back of his neck out of what you assumed was embarrassment.

"Sounds fun, lead the way oh rich one." You released a half hearted chuckled as the male rolled his eyes, offering his arm to you. However, the foreign soft whisper that followed caught him off guard so much so that he almost made a spelling error on the email currently cancelling tonight’s scheduled meeting.

"And thanks Bruce... for everything."

You spent the night at the Manor, delving into your insecurities and Bruce aided in the business side of things where he could in aid of settling at least some of the worries you had. Afterwards you enjoyed one another’s company, catching up on the weeks events as well as the unfurling of his newest addition to the household over the fanciest champagne and 5* meal courtesy of Alfred who you’d convinced to dine with you also.

In a month or so with Bruce’s support you were able to apply your extensive knowledge of the business into running it as your predecessor had and since the regulars knew you already it made it much easier as profits rolled in rather substantially. Now you knew how the old manager could afford his luxury suits.

Tonight though, Bruce made an appearance looking rather despondent and almost exhausted which may not be so obvious to surrounding staff or those not close to him but of course, you were an exception.

Naturally, you leaned on the opposite side of the bar, promoting a weak smile after you’d asked what was bothering the man.

"A business deal didn't go quite how I expected, and it kept me up all night." Bruce summarised, strategically avoiding the details regarding Penguin.

"Then I believe you need some cheering up, I hope you don't have any plans because they are now cancelled~"

"The Manor is free, I can get some strawberrry champagne (Y/n) -"

"Nope, it's my turn. You're about to find out how us commoners spend our evenings."

Without another word you walked him to your spacious apartment which was only around the corner, the hefty bar profits kept it well furnished and your cupboards stocked - even so, you convinced the billionaire to lower his standards to order in which you paid for against his protest.

"I'm paying this time, you're the one whose had it rough recently so I'm treating you. That's what friends are for, besides this food is a little below your pay grade don't you think?" You laughed as you filtered through your movie collection before finding a perfect selection for the night.

"If you think that after adopting Dick that I haven't been subjected to takeout then you're sorely mistaken. I quite enjoy it actually." The billionaire replied rather smugly, slowly growing accustomed to the relaxing atmosphere you and your home radiated. Bruce, for once, felt oddly content.

The movie began and ended, the time filled with idle conversation of which grew deeper as the credits rolled and continued whilst you pottered in the kitchen. Moments later you emerged with a tray, Bruce opening his mouth and closing it being too taken aback to comment.

"I present to you, Chocolat de (L/n)." Came your dramatic voice, accent where necessary to add charm.

Bruce shot you an amused glance, carefully taking on of the two tall mugs from the tray you held - the hot chocolate topped with cream, marshmallows and a flake - very appealing to the eye and tastebuds. It was practically famous in your club.

"(Y/n)?! This is - incredible.”

“Why thank you, only the best for you right?”

He smiled at that, a genuine smile that he’d hoped expressed his immense gratitude right about now.

“That must be why I have you then.”

“Ah, now that is a smooth line. Being in my company has improved your skills huh?” You wittily countered, though Bruce only offered a hopeless yet content sigh.

Clearly they weren’t as effective as you believed.

Bruce seemed refreshed after leaving that night, he’d emphasised his regret of not being able to see you in person to thank you properly over the various texts you’d exchanged in the past week - although, as you were wiping down the counter after an early close you were not expecting the uncanny interruption.

An hallowing echo against the oak bar captured your attention, finding a sheepish bachelor at it’s origin.

"What's this?" You inquired as you picked up the item he’d placed down moments ago, inspecting it precariously.

"It's premium Raspberry Ripple White Hot Chocolate - I thought we could try it, together."

"How on Earth do you get as many women as you do with vague attempts like that hm?" An amused brow was raised in his direction, the action relaxing the millionaire more than he’d admit.

"I'm much smoother when I don't actually have genuine feelings for someone, as such I suppose you don't get the privilege of cliché pick up lines. So what do you say (Y/n)?” It was unorthodox yes, but judging by your quiet laugh he assumed it was the way you’d want it.

"You had me at 'Do you come here often?'"

-BONUS-

"You're saying that line worked." Bruce taunted from his place by the Manors kitchen island, you sipping your drink with a nonchalant argument.

"It did not. It was awful."

"I had this all semi planned from the beginning (Y/n)." He smugly replied, tone basking in the victory of the overly drawn out ‘plan’.

"Hah! I refuse to believe this is how you predicted things to go when we first became friends." It was possible but it had been years since you’d first met, he could not have suspected you’d ever end up together this far ahead.

"You're correct Miss (Y/n), Master Bruce spent the entire evening whining about how he'd embarrassed himself in front of you after your little competition and that it was near impossible to win your affections. A common occurrence whenever he visited your bar really..." The loyal butler unceremoniously intervened, pride radiating from his unwanted revelation as he entered the kitchen.

"Alfred." Bruce released a defeated groan as he had you wrapped around his finger for a second, something he’d wanted to relish in for a few seconds before Alfred had besotted you with the truth.

You however, were pleased with the information, winking at your partner with a gracious smirk befalling your lips.

"Knew it."

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman x reader #batman imagine #dc #dc imagine

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thepoppypress · 3 years

Text

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 4:

Peter’s eye twitched.

“What do you think?” Dick, actually seeming a little nervous, gulped a bit. Peter almost smiled when he heard him, this being a big contrast to how he was when they first met. The cocky facade was down, probably due to Peter’s rejection of “help” from him.

‘Good,’ he thought with mild satisfaction before sighing. “What are you doing here Dick?”

“Just wondering about my uh-” Dick scratched the back of his neck, “gift?” Peter looked at him stoically.

“What about it?”

“Well, why reject it?” Peter’s eyebrow twitched imperceptibly.

“It’s as I said, Dick,” he put special emphasis on his name, “I don’t need your fucking charity. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my things.” Dick sputtered as the chestnut haired boy moved around him to organize his belongings.

“You need it though. Why not take it?” Not looking up, Peter replied,

“It’s the same thing with Slade. I can take care of myself.” Finished with putting his meager possessions together, he shouldered his backpack and made to move around Dick who percepted him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Look,” his voice became louder and a bit higher pitched, Peter’s annoyance at Dick rising exponentially. He was in the way of him getting to Harley, something Peter didn’t appreciate. The superpowered human took a breath.

“I can work for myself and earn money. If you want to get into charity, I can refer you to other people and/or organizations who can much more appreciate the work you’re trying to do, but I do not take handouts. I will not and you can’t make me.”

The handsome man’s face darkened at these words and Peter curled in on himself a bit, wary of the sudden dangerous aura that surrounded Dick, a far cry from earlier. It seemed that there were many sides to this man and Peter was more than hesitant to discover more. Dick, who noticed Peter flinching away, brought his features back to its pleasantness, aptly understanding that his interest was cautious and that he’d have to show more restraint. His eyes narrowed.

“Even if I can’t make you accept it outright, I definitely have other methods.” Peter grit his teeth and glared up at the blue eyed man.

‘Ugh,’ he thought as a phantom headache started flaring up, ‘this going nowhere.’ He might as well just leave. Peter readjusted his grip on his backpack and forcing his way past the hand on his shoulder, he walked around Dick and towards the exit of the shelter, ignoring the pouding footsteps running after him. Once he was outside, the footsteps slowed to a walk right next him. Peter peeked at Dick out of the corner of his eye and nearly groaned in frustration at the jovial expression on the handsome man’s face.

“Is there something you need?” Dick kept his face forward, though Peter could tell that his smile widened.

“Nothing at all. I’m just walking you home.” Dick turned his head to Peter, causing Peter to do the same. The grin was suddenly replaced by a smirk, and Peter got the creeping feeling of an ulterior motive, though he couldn’t be sure what it was yet.

“Whatever,” he muttered, pissed off. He couldn’t do anything about it, however, since all he would spout was nonsense about having to protect Peter. They continued to walk in silence for the next couple of blocks before they passed an alleyway. Deep within the darkness of it, Peter’s sensitive hearing could pick up the nearly silent sound of a whimper. His head snapped to the alleyway and the need to help the being that uttered the pitiful whine grew.

“What is it?” Dick asked, confused. Peter didn’t answer and made to head down the alleyway. Dick grabbed his arm in alarm. “What the hell are you doing?!” Peter shook off the hand and glared at Dick, putting a finger to his lips and silently shushing him.

“Be quiet!” He whispered and went down the alley, Dick following with steadily rising anticipation, hyper aware of the multiple weapons secretly stashed on his person, in case something were to go wrong. Both their footfalls were quiet and the whimpering suddenly got louder. Peter reached for his phone and put it onto the flashlight setting, searching for the source of the sound. A blue tarp covered a large figure of something and Peter paused for a moment, his Spidey Sense strangely quiet, before something underneath the tarp moved.

Quickly, the chestnut haired boy bent down and lifted the tarp, safely knowing there was nothing dangerous underneath. The tarp opened to reveal several buckets of cardboard and a small golden retriever puppy. It was on its stomach, shivering and looking up at Peter pitifully, brown eyes and golden fur wet. Peter’s heart broke and after handing his phone to Dick, who helpfully pointed the flashlight, he kneeled, reaching slowly for the puppy. It flinched and its whimpers became louder but it didn’t move away.

‘Or it can’t move away,’ Peter thought as he spotted some blood matted fur on the puppy’s right paw. As gently as he could, he gathered the puppy in his arms, shushing it when it let out a loud cry. He unzipped his hoodie and placed the puppy within, holding an arm underneath to support it and closed his jacket in order to get some warmth into the poor thing.

“Where’s the nearest vet?” He asked Dick, who paused to think for a moment.

“There’s one about a couple of miles away. Why?”

“I need to take care of it. Obviously.” Dick furrowed his eyebrows.

“You’re keeping it?”

“Of course.” Peter said it like it was supposed to be obvious. Dick stared for a moment before nodding and gesturing to him to follow. Peter nodded and they made their way out of the alley. He waited for Dick to lead the way before the dark haired man’s face lit up. He raised a finger and pulled out his own cell phone, Peter’s still in his other hand.

“Hey, can you come and pick me up? I’m on-” Dick rattled off their current location. Peter raised his eyebrow when Dick hung up, a cheeky smile stretched on his face.

“Who was that?”

“You’ll see!” He said cheerfully. And he did. Not five minutes later, an expensive looking black car pulled up in front of them. Dick hurried before Peter and pulled the door open for him, causing Peter to blush.

“Thanks,” he muttered, unaware of the satisfied smile on his companion’s face as he slid ungracefully into the warm car, careful of the puppy. Dick slid in after and gave another grin to an unimpressed looking (in Peter’s professional opinion) older man.

“Thanks for picking us up Alfred! Was it a bad time?” Still unimpressed looking (still in Peter’s professional opinion), the older man shook his head.

“Of course not, Master Dick. I am always available to help. May I inquire about your companions?” Peter stuck out the hand not supporting the puppy.

“Hello, Mr. Alfred! I’m Peter, an acquaintance of Dick’s. And this,” he unzipped the hoodie to show the puppy resting, now sleeping, in Peter’s embrace, “is someone we just found. It’s nice to meet you.” Dick squawked.

“Acquaintance?!” Alfred nodded, hardly fazed, and replied in his British accent,

“And you as well, Master Peter, but please, call me Alfred. Now, I assume we are to go to the nearest vet?”

“If you could be so kind?” Peter replied politely, glaring at Dick as he snickered which started to turn into full out laughing. Irritated, Peter elbowed him roughly, a satisfied feeling filling him as Dick clutched his side. The blue-eyed man leaned forward and clutched the back of the passenger seat.

“Alfie!” He called out like he was drowning or in immense danger. “He elbowed me!” Peter rolled his eyes as Alfred replied,

“It is not something undeserved, Master Dick,” in his kindest tone which, in Peter’s opinion, made it all that much funnier. Dick sputtered and Peter started to chuckle.

“The betrayal!” He whined, scandalized. The next couple minutes were filled with Dick’s overdramatic tendencies. When they arrived at the still-open-but-nearly-closing vet, Alfred turned over the driver’s seat.

“You are being much too dramatic, Master Dick.”

“I AM THE DRAMA!” Dick cried (if you know, you know). Peter scoffed with amusement and kicked Dick in the knee. “What?!”

“Are you going to get out? The vet’s gonna close if I don’t go now.” Dick sniffed and begrudgingly got out, holding the door for Peter again, who managed to not blush.

“Can you stay Alfred? We’ll be as quick as we can.” Peter’s eyes widened.

“Oh, that’s okay Dick. I can take care of this myself. You go ahead and head home.” He frantically tried to get him to go home, but apparently he didn’t want to. Dick shook his head.

“I can’t do that, Peter. You shouldn’t be walking the streets alone at night, even if you are a guy.” Alfred peeked his head out of the car.

“He is correct, Master Peter. It is especially dangerous amidst the darkness. So please allow us both to help and get you to safety.” Peter hesitated which allowed Dick to surge forward to grab the arm not supporting his precious cargo and gently guiding Peter forward into the building.

“You said it’s gonna close if we didn’t hurry right? Let’s go!” Peter sputtered.

“If I didn’t go! Not we!” He went ignored.

“Wait for us, Alfred!” With that, Peter was unceremoniously pulled into the veterinary’s building. He stumbled, jostling the puppy, who woke with a whine. He righted himself and glared up at the man with him, who only grinned momentarily before going to the front desk and ringing the bell. A crash in the back caught their attention and a frazzled woman came to the front, a frown on her face.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked in concern, joining Dick at the front.

“Huh?” Her eyes caught both of them. “Uh, yeah!” A fake smile lit up her face and Peter’s Spidey Sense thrummed to life, though a bit lowly. Strange. Though not the strangest thing that’s ever happened to him. “Anyway, what can I help you with?” Peter unzipped his jacket to show the whining puppy and the woman’s eyes softened.

“I think it has a cut on their leg or paw.” The woman, her name tag reading Dr. Tasha, nodded.

“I’ll see what I can do. This way.” She led them back and into an examination room. It was quick, as it turns out it was just a cut on the puppy’s paw. With some cleaning and bandaging of the cut and advising that they try to keep the puppy off their paw for a couple days, they were free to go.

“Thank you Dr. Tasha!” Peter called as both he, Dick, and Peter’s new puppy made their way out of the building. Alfred was still waiting like Dick had instructed. Dick opened the door for him again but Peter shook his head. “I’ll just walk.” Dick groaned.

“Petey, I don’t want to have this conversation again. Get into the car before I make you.” Peter’s features twisted but like he knew what was about to happen, Alfred rolled down the passenger seat window.

“Master Peter, I have known and raised Master Dick since he was a boy. I promise you he is a gentleman. He will not let someone such as yourself, or anyone be on the streets if they are not equipped. Neither will I. Please, for your safety, the puppy’s safety and our peace of mind, do let us accompany you home.” It was the look that Alfred gave him that did him in. Begrudgingly, Peter entered the open door, the puppy clutched in his arms and Dick followed him in. “Thank you, Master Peter. Now, where do you live?”

Peter listed off the address and sat back as the car started to move. A minute in, the puppy started whining again and gnawing at the bandage around its paw.

“No,” Peter chided, gently prying the paw away from the puppy’s snout, “you can’t do that.” The puppy looked up at Peter, now more comfortable with him and tilted its head in question, its large eyes curious. Peter, playing along, tilted his head too and raised his eyebrow.

“What?” It came forward on his lap and leaned its paws against Peter’s chest, raising its head towards his face. Peter stayed still and suddenly, a small, pink tongue licked his cheek, leaving little bits of slobber all over. The brown eyed boy laughed, which caused the puppy to become more excited. It started licking Peter all over and he laughed even more, gently pushing the puppy away and wiping away the slobber. “You are so cute!” Peter scratched along its ears and it barked adorably, tongue hanging out and tail wagging with vigor. “Yes you are! You are so cute!” It was as if everyone else in the car disappeared.

Dick, on the other hand, watched the scene with growing interest and horror. Interest because it was interesting to watch Peter interact with something else. Horror because despite Alfred’s claims of him being a gentleman, Dick felt the rising want to grab Peter and smother him. This was just too cute for him. So, with a red face and embarrassment, Dick turned, angling his body away from Peter so the innocent boy would be able to see the “problem” with him.

Peter heard the rustling of clothes and found Dick turning away from him. He frowned.

“Dick? Are you okay?” Muttering answered his question.

‘Weird,’ Peter scoffed internally. He turned back to the puppy, who he had found was a girl. ‘What to name her?’ He put it on a mental checklist.

“Is he a weird, bad man?” The small bark of response made Peter giggle. On the other side of the car, Dick hid his face and in the front seat, Alfred gave a private, small smile.

-----

Tony groaned.

“I’ve been staring at this screen for so long, even my coffee cup is sore.”

“I don’t think cups can be sore, boss. Also, I think the term you’re looking for is ‘coffee mug.’” Tony growled playfully.

“One more sassy word out of you, FRIDAY, and it’s reprogramming for you tonight!”

“I apologize, boss,” FRIDAY replied, sounding not at all sorry, “I was just doing my job.” The genius muttered under his breath. He cursed the day he decided to make AI’s. Speaking of days. Tony blinked.

“FRI, what day is it?”

“If you’re asking about how long you’ve been awake, it has been about 72 hours, sir. Stephen will not be pleased.”

“Shit!” He cursed. “Don’t tell him-” As if on cue, the doors to his lab slammed open and heavy footsteps approached him. He looked up at his husband of one year with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Don’t tell me what, oh dear husband of mine?” Tony stood up suddenly, ignoring the rush of dizziness that washed over him and backed up, his spouse matching every foot.

“Oh nothing, honey. Just that-”

“That you’ve been ‘sciencing’ again and have been neglecting your health? Again?” Tony froze, his back reaching one of the walls of his lab, and scratched the back of his head.

“Uhh. No?” Stephen hummed, blue eyes piercing down onto his husband’s.

“Lying, are we?” Tony gulped, eyes searching around for any modes of escape. There were none.

“No?” Blue eyes sharpened and Stephen gestured to Tony, who’s eyes widened when Capey (as Peter so aptly named it) lifted itself from Stephen’s shoulders and wrapped tightly around the billionaire as he gasped, floating behind Stephen as he led them out of the lab. He tried wriggling but no amount of struggling could get him free.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Stephen?”

“Close down the lab.” Tony looked down at Stephen in exasperation.

“Wait! No, FRIDAY-”

“Of course.” Tony shouted all the way up to the bedroom, yelling across rooms and still struggling inside Capey. No one listened, of course. Stephen stopped in front of the master bedroom and opened the door, Capey and Tony floating through and softly rested on the bed, the billionaire still wiggling around.

Stephen, on the other side of the room, shut the door and immediately shed his outer coat, placing it on an armchair. Tony watched, still struggling to get free, his eyes confused and tired. His husband loosened his tie, taking it off, before reaching down to unbutton his cufflinks, and rolling his sleeves up. He looked at the man on the bed for a moment before snapping his fingers.

Capey released Tony and he sat up, about to get off the bed until Stephen snapped his fingers again and golden bands restricted his arms and legs, multiple glowing restraints latching his arms behind his back and his legs together, from his upper arms to his wrists and from his thighs to his ankles. Tony fell back onto the bed, landing uncomfortably on his inhibited limbs with a cry of alarm. His husband came forward to sit on the edge of the bed and with another snap of his fingers, Tony teleported. Onto his husband’s lap, face down.

His face burned.

“FRIDAY, turn on the recording camera.”

“Yes.” The sound of mechanical whirring came and Tony knew that the camera was on.

‘Shit,’ he thought before the belt around his waist was taken off and his pants and underpants were shoved off, the bands loosening to accommodate for his clothes falling down to the floor, leaving him just in a tattered T-shirt. The belt was thrown across the room, Tony flinching when it seemed to smack something.

“Wait, Stephen-” He was interrupted once again when he yelped at the feeling of a smooth and steady hand coming down on his bare bottom, the hands of a man of medicine and now Sorcerer Supreme (an assholish name if you asked Tony).

“Be quiet Anthony,” a rough, stern voice commanded. A golden band, seemingly thicker than those on his body came to rest at his neck and it seemed that no matter how much he tried, no noise could escape from his mouth. He looked up at his husband in horror, who smirked in response. “A new spell. Do you like it?”

Tony shook his head and another slap came to his ass. He jolted.

“It seems that the last punishment hasn’t made as much of an impression as I had hoped. We’ll have to try again. Oh, and,” Stephen paused and reached down to gently press against Tony’s bare cock, the billionaire moaning softly at the contact. It wasn’t long before he felt something constricting at the base. Tony’s eyes widened even more. “No coming until I allow you to. When I’m through, you’ll be begging. Won’t you, husband?”

‘Again,’ he thought through cry after cry as Stephen’s hand came down repeatedly on his ass, the hand eventually turning into a paddle of some kind, ‘shit. FRIDAY is definitely getting reprogrammed.’

------

“No. More. Neglecting. Your. Health. Do. You. Understand?” Each word that came out was punctuated by a harsh thrust into Tony’s upturned, presented, red, and bruised bottom, said man crying through the inhibitor around his throat, no sound coming through. The bands around his legs had long been wished away, though the restraints along his arms stayed where they were.

Tony’s face was mushed into a pillow wet with tears and drool, occasionally turning to the side to breathe.

It had been hours already, and while Stephen, being Sorcerer Supreme and knowing spells to increase stamina and strength, was not affected in the least, Tony had almost had enough. His cock was straining against the band at the base of it, sensitive and leaking everywhere, desperate for the release Tony’s body so craved.

Too bad Stephen had yet let him, though Tony had a suspicion that everything was going to end soon. Stephen grunted behind him, thrusts becoming sharper and Tony knew that he was about to come for the tenth time that night.

“I said,” a few thrusts with increasing speed and strength, and the band around Tony’s throat disappeared, releasing his voice, “do you understand?”

“Yes!” Tony cried through Stephen’s approving hum, and the blue-eyed man harshly brought the billionaire’s ass to meet his equally rough thrusting and pleasure, a familiar heat, a hot burn started to sear through Tony’s gut, wrenching tighter and tighter, the tightest it had been all night. Tony moaned loudly, crying for release. Stephen leaned forward, still bucking into his husband’s tight heat, and whispered into Tony’s ear.

“Good. Now, come.” when Stephen’s hips stuttered, the restraint around his cock disappeared and Tony came. Stars exploded across his vision before a bright whiteness overtook the stars.

“FUCK!” Tony screamed, body shivering at the explosion of pleasure, tingles shooting all over his body. It seemed to reach from the roots of his hair to the soles of his feet, and his body convulsed. Stephen emptied himself into Tony and breathed heavily, staring down at the prostrated body of his husband, certain for sure that he finally got the message. Tony collapsed on the bed, eyes blurry with tears and off to sleep. Stephen chuckled.

“You can turn it off now, FRIDAY. I think he learned his lesson.”

“Yes.” Stephen stood up and went to grab all the things necessary for cleaning up. It was time for some well earned sleep.

-----

“Boss!” FRIDAY’s loud voice came over the built in speakers, jolting Tony and Stephen awake, the former groaning as he sat up too quickly. His entire body was sore, his ass even more so. Tony glared over at Stephen who raised an eyebrow, smug satisfaction showing on his handsome face. Tony huffed.

“What is it, FRI?”

“Peter’s gone missing!” Alarm and panic shot through both their systems.

“WHAT?!”

-----

“So this is where you live?” Peter paused in playing with Piper, his new Golden Retriever puppy, and looked at Dick who had long disappeared out his weird funk.

“Well, where I’m staying.” Dick raised an eyebrow at the dinginess and gloom that seemed to hang over the apartment building.

“Then who lives here?”

“My friend.” Dick hummed.

‘I wonder if this friend is willing to move apartment buildings,’ he thought with a devilish smirk. An idea was forming in his head and he knew just how he could get Peter to accept his favors. Peter opened the door and shouted a thank you to Alfred for driving him home. He hesitated, Dick staring at him.

“I’ll see you later, Dick.” With that, he closed the door, a wiggling puppy in his arms and made his way into the building, knowing full well that it accepts pets. His face was extremely red. Dick chuckled and Alfred pulled the car out of the parking space and onto residential roads.

“Alfred,” he called.

“Master Dick?”

“Remind me to call Kara when I get home and to look into apartment buildings close to the manor.” Alfred was silent for a moment before replying.

“Of course, Master Dick.” They were silent the rest of the ride home.

-----

“Harley? I’m back!” The door opened to reveal a tired Harley, who was likely asleep. “Sorry, did I wake you?” She shook her head.

“No,” Harley yawned and rubbed her eyes, “I was waiting for you.”

“Well,” Peter said with a smile on his face, “I have a present for you.” His friend stood at attention and waited. From behind his back, Peter brought forward a calmer Piper, who started wagging her tail as soon as she saw Harley. Harley squealed.

“OMG! Puppy got a puppy!” Peter huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, I supposed I did,” Peter beamed, happy that there was at least some sort of normalcy to this night.

“What’s its name?” Harley’s eyes were wide with joy, her baby blues sparkling, even through the pain that was evident.

“Her name is Piper. She’s your new rescue and support.” Harley sniffled with what Peter was guessing was happy tears.

“You mean, our new rescue and support. How did I ever get so lucky?” Peter smiled at his friend, genuinely enjoying their moment.

“You deserve it.”

------

“So….” Steph trailed off, looking at Peter with puppy dog eyes, causing Peter to roll his own. He was back at work, all his stuff at Harley’s indefinitely at the moment. The Captain’s Bar was louder than usual, he noticed, even with Slade there, sitting right next to Steph and Babs.

“So what, Steph?” He pointedly did not look at her, lightly scratching at a smudge on a glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steph stretch her arms over the wooden counter, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Are you free when you’re done here?” Peter paused to think for a moment. When he was sure there was nothing else on his schedule, he said yes. Steph’s eyes lit up, Babs’ nodding along, even though she was on her phone. “Great! Wanna hang with us at our usual place?”

Suddenly, Babs’ head snapped over to her, and the redhead pulled on the blonde’s arm to get her attention. “What? What’s the problem?”

Whispering commenced and Peter decided to stay out of it.

“Oh my God, just ask him.” Barbara groaned but typed on her phone, nonetheless. Steph continued to smile jovially. Finally, a couple minutes later, a notification appeared on Babs’ phone, obviously a confirmation if the way the blonde cheered was any evidence.

“Yeah, we have a hang out if you want to come with, Pete. It’ll be fun.” Slade side-eyed the trio, keeping a careful gaze on Peter, who didn’t take long to nod and agree with a small smile.

“Sure thing! Can I bring a friend though? She’s been going through a nasty break up and I don’t want to leave her alone for too long.” Steph and Babs shared a look and after a quick but silent conversation, both reluctantly agreed.

“Well,” Slade started, “if you’re going, sweetheart, I’m definitely going too.”

“I look forward to it, Slade!” The beaming grin on the cute boy’s face nearly made Slade blush. ‘Cute,’ he thought with an internal smile.

“I can’t wait to let you meet some others! You already know Dick, but there’ll be some other people there too!” A chuckle escaped the brown eyed boy.

“I can’t wait either.”

About an hour later, Peter, who had shot a text to Harley saying to meet him in front of the Captain’s Bar, met Harley outside and they went on a little adventure to Steph’s and Babs’ ‘lair’ as they called it. They were given directions, Harley nervously clinging onto Peter’s arm, and finally arrived at a large, elegant (as elegant as you can get for a club) gothic looking building. There were already bouncers outside of the club, even though it was only about 7 in the evening. Peter and Harley approached, Harley shrinking behind Peter.

“Uh,” Peter said nervously when they didn’t even react.

“Invitation only, kid,” the bouncer said, looking down on him menacingly. Peter gulped.

“Yeah, we were told to come here by Stephanie Brown? Do you happen to know her?” Peter wrung his hands, the bouncer’s eyes narrowing. He reached for the walkie-talkie hanging at his hip, talking into it. Deep inside the club, Peter could hear the

“Hey Steph, there’s a little guy and lady here to see you. Says they know you or something.” A chipper response was sent over the device and the bouncer shrugged and let them pass. “Just head straight, you’ll find a door that says VIP. Just say you’re with Steph to the guards.” They did just that, bypassing the guards at the door with ease, Peter’s Spidey Sense tingling strongly the entire time.

They entered the long hallway, and the door at the end opened, revealing a happy and smiling Stephanie Brown, Babs looming behind her with a gentle smile on her face as well.

“You guys made it!” Seeing Harley, Stephanie’s smile became a bit sharper, before the smile dropped altogether.

“Harley Quinn?” His friend’s grip on his arm tightened and he placed a hand on her’s to comfort her. Peter’s eyes softened and he took his arm out of her grip to hook it around her waist and pull into a one armed hug.

“Yup! This is the one and only Harley Quinn. She’s been going through a hard time so I invited her.” Steph and Babs’ faces, once hardened and suspicious, softened as well, hearing that Peter was willing to vouch for her.

“Of course, Pete,” said Barbara, her expression welcoming, “any friend of yours is a friend of ours.” Peter nodded, happy with the results and he could feed Harley relaxing a bit as well. They approached the door and Stephanie latched onto his other arm when he was close enough, giving him a goofy grin. Suddenly, a loud voice boomed in the room.

“Peter!” Dick was suddenly right in front of him, also grinning like a maniac.

‘A handsome maniac,’ Peter had to grudgingly admit.

“Dick,” Peter greeted with a monotone voice.

“Sweetheart.” Another figure joined their group, towering next to Dick.

“Slade! You made it!” Slade nodded, a semblance of a happy expression on his while Dick pouted.

“Why aren’t you glad to see me?”

“Huh, I wonder why,” Peter deadpanned. Dick got the message.

“Hey! I wasn’t the only one you know! He’s been giving you huge tips for weeks!” Dick pointed right at Slade, who was busy looking at Harley, tight against his side.

“But he’s not that large of an asshole.” A deep and familiar voice snorted.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think they’re both raging assholes.” Dick turned his head and stuck out his tongue, and Peter leaned over to look at who it was. Unsurprisingly (and correct to his assumption), Jason Todd sat lounging on a couch with a book in his hands.

‘Jane Eyre,’ he noted, noticing the cover. ‘Not bad.’ Across from him was Tim Drake, staring at him and Harley. The analyzing gaze made Peter uncomfortable, but he supposed that’s who Tim Drake was. An analyzing, calculated and cold man. At least, he must’ve been in this world.

“Hey wait,” Jason said, his eyes also knowing, but now with eyes of lit fire and amusement. “Aren’t you that guy from the gym?”

“Yeah? What of it?” Jason stood up, straightening to his full height. The Spidey Sense, while tingly strongly before, was on full blast alarm now and it took everything in Peter not to react. The large male stalked across the room, ending up on Dick’s other side, also looming over everyone.

“You owe me a fight.” A feral grin crossed his face and Harley shrunk into Peter’s embrace. Peter tightened his arm and stared up defiantly at Jason Todd, anxiety high but also another emotion flitting around as well. Peter scowled.

“I never agreed to anything nor do I owe you anything.”

“C’mon, princess. Kids like you need to learn how to defend themselves. Besides, I’ll guarantee it’ll be fun.” Peter finally identified that emotion as enthusiasm. He had missed fighting and being able to use his powers. However, in a world where there weren't any superpowered humans, he doubted that it would be normal. He also needed to lay low in order to find a way home. ‘Can I even leave? Because of Harley?’ Peter glanced in her direction before returning his attention towards Jason.

“Fun for who? You? Because I certainly wouldn’t have fun.” Jason must’ve picked up at least some habits from his brother, because he pouted, though it was like if a wolf or an equally scary predator pouted. It was quite weird. “Besides, I’d beat your ass quicker than you can say Charlotte Bronte.” Slade laughed out loud at this, Jason joining in.

Peter knew that they were laughing because they didn’t think he had the chops but that was fine. They didn’t need to know anyways. Steph, Babs and Dick were laughing and there was a chuckle from Harley too.

“I like this kid,” Jason said as he wiped a tear away from his eye, “he’s cute.”

“I’m glad you find me so amusing,” Peter deadpanned. Another harsh laugh followed as Jason returned to his perch. Dick and Slade moved out of the way as Steph pulled Peter in the direction of a table, two other people Peter hadn’t noticed due to Slade’s large frame sitting down already.

They were both focused on the papers that lay in front of them, though Peter could tell they were listening in and curious about the ruckus. Dick pulled out a chair for Peter and Slade for Harley, everyone in their little group sitting around them. Now that Slade was out of the way, Peter could clearly see who the two were.

Bruce Wayne and Commissioner Jim Gordon. He knew that they were friends in the original comics, but that was about it. Harley slid down in her seat and Peter grabbed her hand, rubbing a finger over her knuckles. She smiled weakly at him, and he returned the sentiment.

Unawares to them, the people around them stared at the action in jealousy.

“So Peter,” Steph purred, smiling brightly, “after Harley here, am I your bestest friend?” Peter knew she was quick, but he didn’t think she was this quick. He smirked.

“Of course, Steph. You and Babs.” The redhead snickered when she caught the betrayed look on Slade’s face. It was soon replaced with a sly expression however. Peter suddenly felt his left hand being picked up. His head snapped up to see Slade bringing it to his face, kissing the soft skin of the back of his hand and Peter blushed. Hard.

“What about me, sweetheart?” Steph and Dick burst.

“That’s cheating!”

“He’s mine, you old geezer!” Steph launched herself across the table and mushed her face into the side of Peter’s, continually rubbing against him like a cat, causing surprised laughter to escape from Peter. Dick gasped.

“Stephanie Brown!” He ran behind Peter and forced his arms around Peter’s neck, dislodging Steph’s face and pulled Peter back against his chest, rubbing the bottom of his chin against soft brown curls.

‘Heaven,’ Dick thought dreamily, ‘my little heaven.’ A sudden pale hand pushed Dick’s head away from Peter’s, though he couldn’t go far, what with his arms locked around his neck.

“No, he was mine first,” Harley pouted resting her head on Peter’s shoulder. Peter giggled and tried resting his head on her’s, but Dick wouldn’t allow it.

“You gotta learn how to share!” Some more squabbling went on, Peter assuring everyone but Dick they were liked. No one noticed Bruce and Commissioner Gordan watching nor did anyone notice Jason motioning to Tim to sit on the couch he was on, before standing up.

He silently approached behind Dick and pushed him out of the way, easily making him let go of the brunette. Peter, who barely had any time to react, was suddenly scooped up into a bridal hold, and he instinctively slid his arms around his captive’s neck, looking up at the face and seeing Jason. The older man said nothing, and walked back over to the couch where Tim was now sitting and sat down with Peter settled in the junction between his legs. Peter blinked before scowling.

It was about as cute as a puppy growling, trying to look intimidating.

‘Cute,’ Jason thought with amusement.

“What are you doing?” Peter’s legs, which were thrown over Jason’s large thigh, were suddenly settled into Tim’s lap, pale arms moving over and pressing into the legs.

“Wanted to see what the fuss was about,” Jason said while caressing the small of Peter’s back. Peter’s scowl deepened and everyone at the table migrated over the couch area. Harley flopped onto the couch he was on, right behind him and next to Jason Todd.

“Well, there’s no fuss so let me go.” Jason hummed, pretending to think about it.

“Yeah. No.” The older male picked up his book and began reading again, settling his chin over Peter’s locks like Dick did, with Peter’s ear to his heart, and arms on both sides of the brunette so he couldn’t leave. Peter huffed and tried lifting himself out of the hold, moving his legs as he did so.

It seemed that both Jason and Tim were anticipating this, however, and worked in tandem as a seamless team to keep Peter right where he was. Jason’s arms tightened exponentially, and Tim increased pressure on Peter’s legs. He grunted, realizing that he would have to use his superstrength to get out of this if needed. These people were just as dangerous as Steph, Babs, Dick, and Slade, if not more.

Peter was about to say something when the rustle of clothes and footsteps came over to where they all sat, Bruce Wayne first and Commissioner Gordan following. The Commissioner sat next to his daughter, pressing a kiss to the side of her head while Babs smiled and hugged her dad. Peter softened at the scene, some of his tenseness going away. Bruce Wayne sat in an armchair at the head in between the couches, exuding an air of power he doesn’t think even Mr. Stark had.

“Hello there,” the timber of Bruce Wayne’s voice made it sound like a bedroom voice, deep and heady. Peter flushed slightly but paid attention to him. Out of anyone he’s ever met, Peter’s Spidey Sense never reacted to anyone quite like it did to Bruce Wayne. Peter shrunk back a bit into the arm behind his back, and he noticed that Bruce’s blue eyes tracked the movement. It was as if he tracked every single movement, twitch, or shift he made. It was nerve wracking.

“Hello,” he replied shyly.

“You must be Peter. Dick and Steph have told me a lot about you.”

“Uh, all good things I hope?” The chest he rested upon rumbled with silent laughter. Bruce Wayne smirked.

“Of course. My name is Bruce Wayne. I’m sure you’ve heard of me before. I’m the owner of this establishment.” Peter furrowed his brows. He remembered reading somewhere that Bruce Wayne, in the original comics, had owned a technology firm, Wayne Enterprises. So what was this?

“You own WE and this place?” Bruce nodded, hiding a smirk. Peter knew it was there.

“And a few other ones like it. It gets kind of stressful but my family and I make it work.” Peter nodded, filling some information in.

“I’m sure it does, Mr. Wayne.”

“Please, call me Bruce.” Peter wrung his hands.

“Uh…” Bruce raised an eyebrow. Peter glanced at Babs, Steph, and Dick, who all nodded. Peter gulped. “Okay then, uh, Bruce.” The head of the Wayne household smiled, a certain sharpness to it.

“Anyway, how do you know my sons?” The conversation spiralled from there with people taking turns talking and sharing things. They laughed at Dick’s expense when he explained what had happened, him whining the entire time.

Bruce sat back and watched as they all bickered and argued, but with no actual heat. It had been a long time since anyone around the household and its associates were this relaxed. And it all happened when one boy crossed paths with everyone. Even Jim, his old friend, was laughing along with some things. The softness of the atmosphere was nice.

Until the sound of Tim’s groan permeated the area.

“I don’t get what I’m doing wrong! Seriously!” Bruce raised an eyebrow as everything quieted around them.

“This is why we pay people to get this kind of paperwork done for us, Tim.” Said man scowled at his adoptive father.

“You know I don’t trust anyone else to do it but me, B.” Jason snickered.

“And you’re suffering for it. But by all means, Replacement, suffer more. It’s fun to watch.” Tim sneered at Jason, turning his body to argue with his adoptive brother, revealing the papers in the meantime. Peter took one glance at it and knew exactly what was wrong.

“You have the wrong exponent.” Everyone stopped in their tracks, staring at Peter. Tim blinked.

“What?” Peter stared back and pointed at the paper.

“You have the wrong exponent. There should be a negative here. It changes the whole situation if it’s a negative.” Everyone turned their attention to Tim, who changed what Peter had said and began recalculating. It was five minutes of silence later that Tim collapsed against the back of the couch in relief.

“Finally. You,” Tim looked at Peter in reverence, “are an angel.” Jason hummed in agreement.

“He sure does look like one.” He grinned like a shark when Peter looked up at him with wide eyes. Dick, curious to know, asked,

“How’d you know that, Pete?” The brunette, pointedly ignoring Jason, shrugged.

“I just do.” It was silent for a moment before Slade whistled.

“Beautiful and smart. If I wasn’t in love before, I am now.” The whole of Peter’s face went red and he hid it in his hands, laughter and bickering resuming above him.

Bruce relaxed in his chair, a twitch of a smile that was rarely ever shown on his lips. It really was nice.

-----

Harley, who had long explained the situation of her boyfriend to Steph who had prodded, left with a happy smile on her face with promises of a girl’s night, clinging to Peter’s arm. It was way past midnight when they left.

By the time they had gotten home, Piper, who was being dog sat by one of their nicer neighbors, was sound asleep. Peter and Harley cooed at the pup.

“You look so much like her,” the alabaster skinned girl giggled. Peter rolled his eyes playfully and the rest of the night was spent in a relaxed state. Truly, it was one of the best nights Peter’s had in a long time.

-----

A couple of days passed and Peter got around to finally purchasing dog gear for Piper. He tried to connect the leash to her collar, becoming fondly exasperated when she couldn’t stop chasing her tail to let him do it. Eventually, he just picked her up and connected it before heading out the door, informing Harley of their adventure on their way out.

He didn’t stay to hear the reply.

They walked a couple blocks to the park nearby. There weren't any incidents at first but apparently, when Piper gets excited, there is no stopping her.

So when she suddenly tugged on her leash, Peter underestimated her strength and kept his grip loose, causing her to pull away from him and run around the park like hell was on her heels.

“Shit! Piper!” He ran as fast as he could, trying to get her under control and failing miserably. It eventually got to the point where he nearly had her. She followed along a paved path and ran around the corner, Peter right on her tail when he crashed into a hard chest, obviously muscled and obviously male.

The momentum of him caused him to bulldoze the guy over, and they fell, Peter landing on top of the man. It took a second for Peter to regain his senses.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” He scrambled off the man and looked around, seeing Piper starting to disappear in the distance. “Shit! No! Piper!” He called in the hopes of her actually listening and coming back. Big surprise, it didn’t work. The man, sitting himself upright, motioned for the large black dog behind him.

“Titus, go get that insolent puppy.” Obeying his master’s command, he jumped into action, running in the direction Piper was headed. Peter groaned and looked at the man, finding himself staring into the greenest eyes he had ever seen.

“I’m so sorry, I was walking my dog when she got out of control and I had to chase her down and-”

“Spare me your useless babbling.” Peter’s cheeks turned pink. “It does neither of us any good.”

“Sorry. Again. I really am.” The man sniffed.

“Yes, I heard you the first few times.” Peter stood up and reached down, offering a hand to the man. He sneered but took it anyway, Peter using his superstrength to pull him up. He looked mildly surprised.

“You are strong, but you do not look it.”

“Yeah, so I’ve been told. Look, I really am sorry. I can make it up to you, if you want. There’s a really nice coffee shop or something down the street. I can get you-”

“There is no need. I have already eaten today.” The chestnut haired hoy deflated.

“Really?”

And shit, if he didn’t look like a dejected puppy in Damian’s eyes. It was his ultimate weakness, his so-called hamartia.

“But,” he paused, asking himself if he was really going to do this. Yes, he was. “I am quite thirsty at the moment. Perhaps you can buy me something at that coffee shop.” Peter beamed up at the tall stranger, internally noting with a bitter tone that he was even taller than Jason or Bruce was. He did look familiar though. Peter’s eyes narrowed slightly.

‘Where have I seen hi-’ Peter’s thought was interrupted when the large black dog came up to them, holding Piper’s leash in his mouth, Piper following along.

“Thank you so much for getting her for me.” The man nodded at his dog.

“It is not me you should be thanking, but Titus.”

“Is that his name? Well, thank you very much Titus.” The large dog came forward and Peter sank onto one knee and let Titus sniff his hand, scratching behind his ears when he licked Peter’s hand. Piper whined.

“You are in big trouble when we get home, missy.” He held onto her leash tighter. “Anyway, my name’s Peter. Peter Parker. It’s nice to meet you.” Peter held out his hand. The stranger took it, stiffly shaking it. Peter giggled internally.

“I’m Damian Wayne. It is nice to meet you too I suppose.” The brunette smiled.

“Let’s get that coffee now, yeah?”

Previous: Part 3

Next: Part 5

#Peter Parker #Mafia Batfam #Mob Boss Bruce Wayne #Mob Boss Dick Grayson #Mob Boss Jason Todd #Mob Boss Tim Drake #Mob Boss Damian Wayne #Peter Parker is Spider Man #Reverse Harem #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne

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shytalia · 4 years

Text

A Prince and a Pirate’s Fate - Chapter 3

Summary: When the future King and Queen of the Spade’s Kingdom come of age, a mark appears on their body. Alfred is the kind Prince of Spades, heir to the throne. Arthur is his fated husband, the future Queen. The only problem is, Arthur is one of the most infamous pirates to sail the seas, a wanted man in all four kingdoms, and he violently refuses his place in the castle.

No attempts at capturing him have been successful and he remains on the run, fulfilling his lust for defiance. Alfred, following his nineteenth birthday, decides to take the task of bringing Arthur home into his own hands.

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Also available on my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shytalia

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Chapter Three

Start at Chapter one here: https://shytalia.tumblr.com/post/611878754309079040/a-prince-and-a-pirates-fate-usuk-fanfic

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The following morning, Alfred woke up with a start. A loud noise aroused him from his slumber in a small inn room overlooking the sea. He was horrified to see the infamous ship beginning to sail away.

“No, no, no, shit!” He threw on some spare clothes and bolted out the door, running frantically to the shoreline where the ship had already left. “Fuck, fuck! What am I supposed to do now?” He yelled out to the sea, causing a few concerned looks from the locals. He looked frantically from side to side, only pausing when he saw a smaller boat not too far down the shore at a different pier. Even better, there was an old fisherman on it.

“Sir!” He waved his arms above his head at the man as he ran towards him, who in turn looked at him as if he were crazy. “Sir, I need to catch that ship there.” He pointed dramatically towards the fleeing vessel. But maybe it was going slow enough for them to catch. “I beg you, take me to it with your boat. I’ll even pay you for your trouble, look.” He dug out a thick bag from one of his pockets, opening it up to reveal shiny gold coins and offered them all to him. He had brought money with him for obvious reasons, but it would be useless to him if he lost Arthur now after he had just found him.

“W-What? I can’t accept this. Young man, this is too much for a simple ride--”

“No time! It’s yours, all I ask if you get me to that ship.” He begged again, urging the greying fisherman to accept his offer. After some thinking, the old man sighed and relented, allowing Alfred to hop onto his boat before preparing for a speedy chase. Thankfully Arthur’s ship hadn’t released their sails fully yet, so they were going at a leisurely pace propelled mostly only by the calm waves. That being the case, it was easy even for a small boat such as this one to catch up to them before they made it even farther out. Their small vessel rocked hurriedly against the current, coming up upon the massive, wooden form.

“Arthur! Arthur, come on! Stop! Arthur!” He yelled, but his voice was hardly audible over the thunder of the waves against the ship.

Their presence did not go unnoticed, however. As soon as Alfred was confident they could over pass the large ship and get in front of it, he was greeted by rifles being pointed directly at them from over the dock. The Fisherman gasped and in his panic turned the boat sharply, not taking into consideration his land-legged passenger.

“Whoa!” The young prince stumbled and fell, crashing into the cold waters below. He managed to resurface, taking a loud gasp of air only to see his only way out, the fisherman, was quickly driving away back towards the distant shore. Wow, did they really go that far out? He could hardly even see the land anymore as he peered into the distance.

A rush of panic pooled over him. He was stuck in the middle of the ocean! He could try to swim back but his heart was already beating hard from adrenaline and the water was cold on his skin, there was no way he was going to have the energy to swim that far without a rest.

What made it worse, he realized the ship he had been so fervently chasing after was now turning back towards him. “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” He chanted, making his last dues with the gods because Captain Kirkland was going to absolutely crush him with that ship. But before he succumbed to the violent waves roaring off the wooden vessel, it slowed and turned slightly, until it came to a halt just a ways away.

Confused and scared, Alfred could feel himself growing tired already as he worked to keep himself afloat. He guessed the sadistic sea captain just wanted a front row seat to watch him die. He really was an idiot, now his kingdom would have no future queen or king.

Just when Alfred started to feel himself start to slip ever so slightly under the water, his energy draining out of him, he heard the distinct smack of something nearby hitting the water. Looking, he could see what looked like a large ring floating towards him. Desperate to find purchase on something solid, he used the last bit of his energy to make his way to it and grabbed it.

He sighed in relief and allowed the ring to pull him slowly closer to the ship and eventually even up towards the deck.

It wasn’t until he actually reached the top that his peculiar situation dawned on him. He was just pulled aboard an infamous pirate ship, one whose crew were guilty of all sorts of inexcusable acts, and now he was at their mercy. He was dragged onto the hard wood and breathed deeply, trying to catch his breath. He could feel the bodies surrounding him without even looking. He knew he had to meet his makers at some point, so he slowly stood up and glanced around at the people who circled him like vultures.

Just as he expected, he was met with various different faces, most of which looked like they wanted to rip him apart piece by piece. Others held expressions of curiosity and a few, much to his dismay, looked openly hungry as they glanced him up and down. He swallowed hard and stood his ground, wondering if he would have fared better in the ocean after all. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a different familiar voice.

“You bloody, absolute, incomprehensibly stupid git !” The voice yelled, a path between the rough men and women surrounding him parted to reveal the shaggy haired captain storming forth. Without hesitating, Arthur grabbed the prince by his soaked shirt and pushed him against the wooden frame behind him, the only thing separating Alfred from yet another watery struggle down below. “What the hell do you think you were doing? How stupid can you possibly be? Augh! I should have left you to die!” He was practically screaming in the young man’s face, and yet, Alfred only stared at him in awe.

“But...you didn’t.” It dawned on Alfred in a matter of moments. The horrible, vile, quick tempered villain of the seas had shown him some level of mercy. It was against everything Alfred had ever heard about Arthur. “Arthur, you saved my life.”

“Like hell I did, git. Consider yourself in debt.” The British captain grumbled in return, face twisting in disapproval at the accusation that he might have actually saved Alfred just out of kindness. “And it’s Captain Kirkland, to you.” He corrected, finally releasing the younger man with a rough push sideways, causing the boy to stumble away from him.

The blonde pirate took a few steps back from the confused prince, his eyes never leaving him. It was like a predator glaring down its next meal. “Take him to The Hole.”

“Huh?” Without hesitation, Alfred felt large hands grab his arms and start to pull him away. Much to his distress Arthur was not following after them and was fading into the distance as he was dragged away. “W-Wait! Hold on, just let me talk to you for a minute!” He struggled to get out of the iron grip that had him, only for it to tighten as a result and pull him faster.

Alfred found himself thrown into a cold cell deep below the ship’s surface and left to sulk there despite how he tried to convince the pirates to do otherwise. “Let me out! I want to talk to Arthur!” He yelled into the dark air, shaking the cell door with loud clunks. This did nothing to affect his captors and he was left alone to wait.

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It was hard to tell how much time had passed as he stayed there in the dim light. He sat on a small cot, hardly better than the damp floor itself but he supposed he should be thankful for it. For a time he waited and listened for any sign of life, but the only sound he could hear was his own breathing and the rumble of the waves outside.

Strangely, it was almost a soothing sound, considering they had nearly killed him not too long ago. The young prince closed his eyes and listened. The waters were powerful and threatening, easily they could grow at any moment and swallow the entire ship whole. Despite this, they rocked the vessel mercifully, and their cycle of kissing the wood helped lull him into a light slumber.

Why did he suddenly enjoy the sound of the waves so much?

They were nice, sure. He had visited beaches and sailed plenty of times to attend to royal duties in other lands, but all those times he had never simply sat and listened. It was like the waves themselves were sirens beckoning him to open his ears and jump in, not some mythical creature.

What was it that had him so unexpectedly fascinated, then?

Was it the ocean's ability to have ferocious, destructive power, only for some divine reason it chose not to use it and gave them compassionate seas instead?

Thump.

Perhaps it is its beauty, the way it shined and sparkled against the sun?

Thump thump.

Or even the way its salt littered the air, forcing him to breathe it in. A familiar scent, where was it from again?

Thump thump thump.

Alfred sighed softly, subconsciously aware of the noise that grew ever closer to his cell. His mind swirled in an attempt to place that taste of salt water dancing on his lips. Where had he tasted it before?

“Oi, are you asleep? Wake the hell up!”

A loud, unforgiving voice startled him from his sleep. He jostled awake, sitting up from his lazy position against the makeshift bed. He stared wide-eyed towards the caged door for the intruder, only to find the one person he actually wanted to see standing on the other side.

“Arthur!” Alfred didn’t try to hold back his obvious joy at seeing the older man, which only earned him another hard scowl.

“It’s Captain Kirkland, you capital tit.” The shorter man corrected quickly. He didn’t move as the prince stood up and practically ran towards the bars, merely inches away from the man he was supposed to marry, but unable to touch him.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to make you so upset.” The wheat blonde’s frown looked sincere, only because it truly was. An aspect Arthur silently thought was too rare in apologies these days.

Still, he didn’t understand why the boy was quite so apologetic about simply calling him by his first name. Of course it was disrespectful to Arthur, he had earned the title through years of work and terror, and did not appreciate some arrogant wannabe from the capital thinking he could address him otherwise. But, most would apologize from fear of punishment, not genuine sorrow. “You must know how important names are, being from the big city and all.” That must be it. There, a certain few names of the rich and powerful ruled everything. But here on the sea? His name nearly ruled it all.

“What? Oh, yeah, I mean, I’m sorry about that too. I’ll call you Cap if you want.” Alfred’s apologetic face quickly upturned with an almost amused smile, before he suddenly remembered something and it shot down again. “I meant I’m sorry for upsetting you last night, you know, at the bar? I wasn’t trying to imply anything. I really just wanted to understand you better. I didn’t know it was a sensitive subject for you and I didn’t mean to make you mad. Are you still upset?”

Of all the things Arthur thought the boy might say, it certainly wasn’t that. He gawked at him for a moment, unable to decide if he should be angry at him for bringing it up again or impressed with his honesty. Though really, what the hell did Alfred care about his feelings? He was a pirate! Not only that, he was one of the most feared captains in all four kingdoms. He wasn’t one to be coddled, but it made him realize, it had been quite a long time since he heard anyone ask him such a compassionate question.

“I...suppose not.” He settled finally, watching carefully as Alfred’s face shifted from worried to a large grin. It accentuated his nice face, really. He looked much better with a smile than that sour face from before. This ‘capital tit’, admittedly, had a nice, goofy smile to accompany his shining, blue eyes. It was like staring into the depths of the ocean itself. Arthur would know, he had done just that many times before, after all. The realization startled him a bit and he cursed himself for losing focus.

“So,” the grinning man beamed at him with a hopeful gaze. “Will you let me talk with you now that you aren’t mad? Just a little bit, so I can get to know you better.”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to smile, though it wasn’t the optimistic, toothy grin Alfred had. No, his was much more sarcastic, and he smirked as if he had just been told a nasty joke.

“Idiot, are you really not understanding the situation you’re in right now?” He placed his rough, calloused hands on his hips as he stared at his hopeful prisoner.

“Huh?” Judging by Alfred’s response, he did not.

“Here you are, on my ship, in my cell, as my prisoner, and you want to talk as if we were just friends?” He said it as if it was obvious his request was insane, since for anyone else it would be! Anyone else in their right mind would be scared shitless being the infamous pirate’s captive. Maybe Alfred really was just plain stupid after all.

“Have you really not figured this out yet? I could kill you...I could torture you...I could make you my play thing then dump you into the sea when you start to bore me.” His face twisted sharply, his Cheshire grin roughening at the edges. “I thought about it, you know? It wouldn’t be hard, after all. I could make you do whatever I wanted and there would be nothing you could do to stop any of it.” It was a face of such sadistic pleasure that Alfred had never seen a human morph like that before. It sent a chill down his spine as his eyes unwillingly locked on it, unable to force them away.

Ah, there it finally was. The fear.

Alfred’s stance stiffened and his blue eyes watched the captain carefully, even when Arthur stepped closer. His gaze remained on the pale man before him, even as said man broke the distance between them, reaching through the bars and caressing his face. It stung a little, he could only guess there was a dark bruise left from when he had been punched the night before. The touch was so gentle though, Alfred swore it had to be someone else’s hand. But it wasn’t, it was Arthur’s, and he smelt like sea salt.

Alfred swallowed the lump forming in his throat, “But...you haven’t.” He stated simply.

The hand on his cheek paused suddenly.

“What?” Came the surprised reply. Even if it was hidden deep under a low, dark mumble, Alfred could hear the confusion.

Alfred grew bolder and was quick to reply. “You haven’t hurt me yet, but you’ve had more than enough chances to.” The prince reiterated. Without thinking, he reached up and grabbed onto Arthur’s cold hand that still lay dormant on his cheek, gripping it gently in his own warm one. “From the stories I’ve always heard about you, you’re ruthless. You’re violent and you won’t hesitate to kill anyone who gets in your way. But I can tell that’s not all you are, I know it’s not. You saved my life, cage or not, I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. You even held a knife to my throat for gods sake, Arthur, but I’m still here. Anyone else would call you a monster for it but I don’t see you that way. I don’t think you’re as heartless as people say you are.”

It was Arthur’s turn to go wide-eyed. His emerald eyes sparkled with so many emotions that Alfred could hardly keep up with them all. There was confusion, first and foremost. Denial, skepticism, doubt, and if he was right, a hint of fear.

The Brit jerked his hand out of the prisoner’s soft grasp, somewhere between fuming and disbelief. “Do not doubt me, I will make your life hell on earth.” He spit. And with that, the captain stormed away and out of The Hole.

“Cap? Hold on, wait! Arthur!”

But his cries were ignored, heard only by unsympathetic walls and the pacing sea.

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#usuk #fanfic #usuk fanfic #hetalia #aph #aph america #aph england #usuccc reblogged my fic omfg #one of my favorite tumblr blogs #i feel so honored XD #and their tags were funny af lmao #fanfiction #america #england #cardverse #cardverse usuk #pirate england #yo ho ho arthur doesnt know what affection is #surprise bitch

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pandorica0011 · 5 years

Text

To Be a Hero

Word Count: 1,157 (Longest story I’ve written in the shortest time it’s taken me. Arthur has a potty mouth. I apologize, he’s incorrigible lol)

There were many things Arthur didn’t like about attending the UA, but picking hero names definitely made it to the top of the ever-growing list. Especially when he had to enlist the help of the two most irritating people he knew.

“How about Fiery Lion- no no, Spitfire! Yeah! Spitfire, it’s perfect! Ha!” Alfred suggested, sitting back in his chair and laughing.

“I’m not having anyone call me that.” Arthur grumbled, hiding his face in his hands. He made a mental note never to ask Alfred for help with any other important decisions.

“Come on, Artie! It’s cool!“

“Hell no."

"Francy, please tell him it’s a cool name!"

"Alfred,” Francis began, putting his hand on Alfred’s knee. “You know I love you, but it is not a good name.” He shot a smirk at Arthur.“ Maybe something more stylish, like-"

"No."

Francis gave Arthur an offended look. "You haven’t even heard what it is yet!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Any name you give me can’t be good."

"Killjoy.” Francis muttered.

Alfred’s eyes lit up. “Hey! That could be his name!” He said, flashing an amused look at Arthur.

Arthur shot him a glare. “You’re not helping."

"Whatever, I’m gonna go talk to Kiku about making adjustments to my suit.” Alfred said, standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Please, no more of that flashy stuff. It hurts to look at. Even for me.” Francis pleaded. Only a few days ago he’d gone to Kiku to make the colors on his outfit red, white, and blue and even that was enough to make Francis afraid to see the final product.

Alfred clutched his chest in feigned betrayal. “Et tu, Brute?” He sighed dramatically. With one last grin he winked and turned on his heel in the direction of the school’s suit lab. “See ya later!” He called before disappearing from view.

Francis chuckled. “Back to you, Sourcils. The people need to know what they’re going to call their next hero.” He crossed his legs and stared intently at Arthur with his hands clasped over his knee.

Arthur sighed. Of course. Their next hero. But what are the odds of that? Alfred would sooner become one. He had the heart and the strength. Arthur didn’t have any of that.

“I’m not a hero."

Francis cocked his head to the side. "Why not?” He asked.

“Do I look like a hero?"

Francis gave him a soft smile and reached out to take Arthur’s hand in his own. "Maybe not yet, but soon you will be. Appearance isn’t the only factor in making a good hero"

"I told you to come prepared.” Arthur chided, sliding his jacket off and passing it to Francis.

“How would I know it would be so cold?"

"Weather apps. They exist for a reason."

"I don’t trust them."

” Of course you don’t.“

Their conversation was cut short with a shrill scream coming from a few doors down where a shop door was propped open and a tall man stood in the doorway with a tight grip on the upper arm of an older woman. "Let me go!"

"Where’s the money?” A rough voice demanded.

“I told you, I don’t have any. Business was slow and what we did have was taken out earlier in the day!"

Arthur rushed forward and stopped before the man and his hostage. The shop owner looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Oi, why don’t you let the nice lady go and we can settle this like gentlemen."

The man gave Arthur a once-over and scoffed. "Fuck off."

"I said, let her go."

"And why the hell would I listen to you?"

Arthur held his hands up at his sides, flames encasing them both. "Because I’d hate for you to get burned."

A twinge of what looked like fear crossed the man’s face and he let go of the older woman and she took shelter behind the counter. The moment of fear was short lived, however, and the man pulled a knife out of his back pocket, wielding it menacingly. "Think you can handle roughing it with the big kids, squirt?"

Next to him, Francis stepped forward brandishing a sword encased in thorns. Those same thorns ran down the sword, up his arm, and encased his body like an armor. "We’ll manage."

The man rushed forward and swiped the knife at them. Francis blocked the blow with his sword. He went for a second strike, this time at Arthur, managing to nick his arm.

Arthur clutched his arm and cursed. Igniting his flames once again, he fired a stream of fire at the man’s feet.

With a shout, the man jumped back and sneered. "Don’t you anything you might regret, kid."

Arthur only smirked in response. With a growl, he ran past Francis and planted a kick at the man’s chest and knocked him to the ground. Police sirens broke up the fight. The man stood and ran, throwing a glare at the boys. "You’re gonna regret that."

The shop owner stepped out of her hiding spot, having been given time to call the police, and embraced both boys in a hug. "Thank you both so much! You’re good boys!"

Arthur flushed and Francis gave her a smile. "It’s no problem, madame . We’re here to help."

"I must know your hero names! The city must know who their new protectors are!"

Francis bowed. "I’m Rose Épineuse.”

The woman nodded. “Lovely, indeed.” Then she looked to Arthur. “And you, dear?"

That was the question, wasn’t it. What was his name? Arthur took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Spitfire, ma'am” and he hoped to God he didn’t sound like an absolute idiot.

The woman seemed to think for a moment. Her eyes locked with Arthur’s longer than he would have liked. She didn’t like it. Why else would she be starting at him that way for so long?

“I like it."

"You..do?"

"Yes, of course! Just like the British fighter planes! It’s fierce and bold. From what I saw just now, that’s exactly like you."

Arthur was dumbstruck. She liked it. She actually liked it. "Thank you, ma'am."

The woman nodded and turned to greet the arriving police officers. "Of course, of course!"

"Such nice young boys.” She hummed to herself.

“You know, you have to thank Alfred for that name now.” Francis laughed.

Arthur rolled his eyes and smiled back. “Fuck off."

"In all honesty, it’s not such a bad name."

"Liar.” Arthur said, giving Francis a small shove.

Francis grabbed hold of Arthur’s hand before he could pull it away and placed a small kiss against his knuckles. “I would never.” He chuckled. Then he smiled and placed a palm against Arthur’s cheek. “Now you look like a hero."

Arthur flushed and couldn’t stop a small smile from forming on his lips. "Thank you."

Maybe being a hero was possible.

#frukweek2019 #day 1 #quirks #aph france #aph england #aph america #writing #my fanfiction #arthur kirkland #francis bonnefoy

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boycottphil · 5 years

Note

Omg if you're writing usuk can you please do something involving the Beatles/Beatlemania or the British Invasion in general? Theres so much good material there but no one really writes about it. I will love you forever

For context, I am taking fanfic requests!

This was a lot of fun to write! I wasn’t too sure if this is what you meant, anon, but if it’s not, feel free to send another ask! I’d be happy to write more. Anyway, enjoy!

Pairing: UsUk Rating: T Warnings: Strong language, mentions of blood, smoking (cigarettes) Word count: 2026

Imagine hundreds of thousands of people screaming your name. Imagine hundreds of thousands of people obsessing over your every step, word, move… Imagine loving every second of the intrusive behaviour displayed by fans.

Arthur, the lead singer of the “best band in history,” lived off of such things. Fame… It brought him joy, joy which he previously thought was impossible for him to feel. He was surrounded by security, yet his favourite moments were those when a fan managed to get to him, and looked at him with amazement in their eyes…

Looked at him as if he were a god.

[[MORE]]

Now, one could say that such thoughts and such behaviour was perhaps a bit… unhealthy. And one would be right. Arthur was sick; getting off on his own fame, and as he gathered more and more fans all over the world with each tour, he felt better. And better.

His band was good, not the best band in the world, per say, but definitely good. Their music was largely enjoyed by a female audience. Girls loved to imagine the songs being sung to them personally. They were written to be perceived that way. No names of girls were mentioned… no hints at any particular gender were given either.

Now, there were rumours, as there always are surrounding any band as huge as Arthur’s. Rumours like selling their souls to the devil, rumours like being robots invested by the government. Rumours like… being gay.

Arthur could only benefit from rumours that claimed he was an alien. It added more mystery to his character, more reasons for people to check out his music, come to his concerts. However…

Rumours that claimed he was gay could destroy his career. The thing is… he is gay. He does not fancy women at all. He couldn’t care less when girls form whole crowds and take off their shirts and bras. He didn’t care about his bandmate’s groupies offering threesomes or foursomes or ogies. He’d rather bang his bandmates if he didn’t despise them all.

He came quite close to having his career ruined, though.

One day, while touring the United States, they stopped in middle-of-nowhere-town of some State that Arthur thought was made up by the Americans to make it to 50 states in the first place. He was still convinced there aren’t 50 of them, but 10 divided into five parts each. But he would not express that opinion. Lest someone shot him for even mentioning the USA in any context that doesn’t presents it as the best country on the planet.

It was a town they were merely passing through, but they had to stop for fuel and food and for the drivers to rest a bit as well. Arthur wore his sunglasses and had clothes on that he wasn’t known for wearing, and decided to walk around town a bit. They had a few hours, and he wasn’t about to pass the opportunity to stretch his legs and turn off his brain a bit. Touring meant little walking and too much work, so moments such as those were few and far between.

He had purchased a box of cigarettes, which he planned to get through before he had to be locked in a fast moving vehicle again; in which he wasn’t allowed to smoke. With a fag already lit and dangling off his lips, he walked out onto the pavement, ready to resume his walk just when…

He was bumped into by some 5 foot 6 tall boy. He groaned as his cigarette fell into a puddle, together with his sunglasses. He grumbled and hurried to retrieve his glasses but, well… the kid already saw.

“Arthur Kirkland?! No way!!” He yelled too loudly, his voice far too deep for what Arthur assumed was a 13 year old boy.

“Shh!” Arthur shushed and then wrapped an arm around the other’s head and covered his mouth so he couldn’t make more noise. He felt screaming behind his hand and the boy seemed to be losing his mind just from being touched. Arthur did love attention… but not in some hick town when he was looking for a quiet place to smoke and meditate until he had to leave again.

He dragged the other into an alley- not a suspicious thing to do at all- and shushed him until the other stopped freaking out. He rambled about being touched and carried by Arthur, all of which was technically true, but it sounded so much more dramatic coming out of the kid’s mouth.

“Okay, listen here, kid-” he started, but was promptly interrupted.

“Kid? I’m 19!” He argued.

Arthur looked annoyed, but slightly less on-edge about dragging him into a dark alley. “Whatever, mate. Just stop screaming like a bloody schoolgirl. I don’t want this whole town to know we’re here. The paparazzi would hound us for hundreds of miles, like they did in the last town this happened in.” He explained as he lit his second cigarette- he was mourning the first.

“So you really are Arthur Kirkland?” The other asked, already taking off the backpack he had on and reaching for the first paper and pen he had. “Would you please sign this?” He asked, his bright blue eyes shining in anticipation.

Arthur frowned, but he took the pen and, without really looking or even thinking about it, produced a perfect loopy signature.

“Whoaa… That’s so cool! My name’s Alfred so could you…”

Arthur added, ‘for Alfred, stay cute’ at the bottom, as he does for all signatures, merely replacing the name.

“You think I’m cute?! Wow, Arthur Kirkland thinks I’m cute!!” Alfred said, his voice so high pitched in excitement that Arthur almost really did think he was cute.

“No, mate- I write that for everyone. Most of my fans are girls, you see and-” once again, he was interrupted.

“But you do think I’m cute! I can tell. You keep looking at me,” Alfred insisted, perhaps a bit cheekily. Arthur blinked, trying not to seem too taken aback.

“I, uh… I don’t… What?” He was usually never speechless. He always had a way to make a fan swoon over him with smooth comebacks and flirty lines that made girls go absolutely mad. But this was a boy. A boy who had called him out on his obvious interest in him, and a boy who, while excited to see him, clearly didn’t think he was a god.

Weird. He was supposed to always be seen as a god. What else could he be seen as?

“So… if you could keep this meeting to yourself for the next 24 hours, that would be bloody fantastic. Now, if you excuse me…” he mumbled and started walking away. He thought Alfred would be satisfied enough with that; he got an autograph and a hug- sort of. But no…

“So where are you headed now?” Came the American voice of the 19 year old who just decided to tag along.

Arthur felt his blood beginning to boil just a bit. “That is literally none of your business. Literally.” He sighed, exasperated.

Alfred fell into step beside him, keeping up easily even as the Brit tried to speed up. “Aw, come on! I won’t tell. I know how to keep secrets! I’m great at it. This one time, my cousin Austin, he told me that he and his aunt on his mum’s side-”

Arthur stopped abruptly. “How the fuck are you good at keeping secrets?”

“Well… I… You don’t know my cousin Austin, do you?”

Arthur groaned and kept walking, now deciding to ignore Alfred entirely. The teen though; he decided that he would ignore Arthur ignoring him. The Brit continued walking and smoking his cigarette as if Alfred wasn’t right there, and talking his ears off about dinosaurs and spaceships and how much he loved boys and how he knew Arthur could relate and-

Wait.

They had at that point reached a park, which was perhaps the size of two average backyards. There was no one around, and Arthur really appreciated it.

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked, his blood really getting to a simmer.

“Well, you know… You’ve never been seen with a girl, you never touch girls, you don’t talk about girls, you don’t even seem interested to all the girls we just passed while getting here. At all. You’re gay, and I can tell,” Alfred claimed.

“I have absolutely no idea where you get those ideas from. How would you know what I do in my free time?” He crossed his arms, perhaps a bit defensively.

“You look at my lips and arms so much, and you’ve looked at my ass too. I’m not dumb, you know! There’s no shame in being gay, Arthur. It’s all just-”

Arthur was angry at that point. He threw his half finished cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, then turned to face Alfred. “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you’re gay and you think making up lies is going to turn me gay, then forget about it. All right? I don’t even mess with groupies in the first place. Would you kindly leave me the fuck alone now?” He said loudly, keeping his composure enough not to yell at this kid.

“You’re just mean and in denial because you think if you come out that girls will stop obsessing over you. That’s okay. If you don’t want a groupie because all of them are girls, that’s understandable. But I mean… I’m free. I ran away from home a week ago. I have nowhere to be so… I could come with you. Warm your bed at night. Maybe do a few more other things too. Like ride you while you-”

Arthur punched him. He got too heated, too angry, amd he just… threw the punch. His knuckles ached after, and Alfred was holding onto his bleeding nose. It didn’t seem broken, but knowing the consequences of literally punching someone, Arthur began briskly walking away.

He should have expected to see the American again, before he even managed to walk down half a block. How he could cradle a bloody nose and run after him was a miracle.

“That was so rude!! I did not deserve to be fucking punched, man! I was just teasing you, dude! It’s literally not my fault that you are hiding your repressed homosexuality-”

“Stop. Calling. Me. Gay.” He growled, taking one step closer to the teen with each word uttered.

Alfred was practically pinned to a wall just then, looking up at the Brit with wide blue eyes. He was tall and handsome and…

And he kissed Alfred before he could get socked again. Instead of being pushed away and hit, as Alfred expected he would, he was pulled closer and kissed intensely enough to have all the air sucked out of his lungs.

Arthur pulled away seconds later, practically pushing himself off Alfred. Even behind his sunglasses, his eyes looked wide and shocked at what he had done. He looked around, then took Alfred’s hand and ran toward the bus.

He fucked up. He fucked up big time. But that’s okay… No one saw. And if he just kept Alfred with him on tour at all times… No one would find out that he was gay. At all.

“Is everything you need in that backpack?” He asked Alfred, out of breath from running, once they arrived at the bus.

“Yeah, why?” He asked and took off his backpack so he could take some tissues out and clean the blood off his face.

“Good. You’ll be coming with us on tour,” Arthur stated bluntly, not even bothering to listen for a yes or a no. Alfred grinned like a kid and hopped into the bus behind Arthur, already reaching out to cop a feel of his favourite singer’s ass.

Needless to say, Arthur did get himself a groupie. Involuntarily. And now every day became a series of “I almost outed myself to my millions of crazy fans.” It could be worse. At least he sleeps with a cute and annoying twink every night.

#hetalia #Anonymous #usuk #ukus #aph england #aph america #arthur kirkland #alfred f jones #beatlemania #i think #i mean i tried rlly hard n i think i did well #aph

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sunaddicted · 6 years

Text

Day Five: Space

For @superbatbigbang unofficial inktober prompt list

***

"Master Bruce"

"I've checked the time: I still have half an hour left before you drag me to bed" Bruce sighed, eyes focused on the reports slowly trickling in: a big trafficking ring had been torn down and it had taken more than just Batman and Robin's intervention to do so.

Nightwing's had been the first to arrive, typed up with Dick's usual simplicity that reminded Bruce of his school essays; Robin's had arrived second only because Damian had gotten home later, insisting on assisting him through the clean-up and the handover to the GCPD; Oracle's had just come in; Spoiler hadn't sent word yet.

He wouldn't be able to compile a dossier for Gordon until he had all the points of view, all the details, all the proofs - no matter that Alfred claimed he needed to get some rest, he had some necessary work to do.

"There was an earthquake in the Philippines"

Bruce frowned and switched one of his monitors to a newsagent site: someone from the League must have gotten there almost instantly, since none of his alarms had rung "A lot of dead" he commented, skimming through the headlines.

"Master Clark was the first responder" Alfred added, putting a mug of tea down by Bruce's elbow.

"It wasn't a criticism" just a fact.

"I know"

Bruce picked up the tea and took a sip, expecting Alfred to leave after having delivered his news but the man didn't seem to be done yet "What is it?"

"The loss of human lives always hits Master Clark the hardest"

"You think I should go and find him"

Alfred arched an eyebrow - Bruce always thought that it was a dignified version of a sarcastic duh that the older man was too British to actually voice "Partners usually comfort one another in difficult moments"

And while by then Clark had had come to terms with the fact that he couldn't save everyone, he still beat himself up over it - Bruce knew that it was one of the reasons why he loved the other man: he had never become desensitized to death, his heart wouldn't allow it "He hasn't come to the manor, has he?"

"He hasn't"

"Doesn't that mean he needs some time alone?"

Alfred sighed "He knew you had an important operation to take down"

"That's true"

"Shall I prepare the Batwing?"

Bruce glanced at the reports: if he took the Batwing, during the flight over to the Watchtower he would have enough time to read over them and organise them for Gordon - then he glanced at the numbers on the screen and grimaced as he once again took in the proportions of the disaster that now Artur and Mera were managing, being better equipped to deal with the tsunami that surely would soon follow "No, I'll teleport there"

"Excellent, Master Bruce"

The sheer satisfaction in the older man's voice almost was enough to make Bruce want to change his mind, but he realised that it really wasn't the time to be petty and squabble with Alfred as if he still was a teen - no, Clark was undoubtedly hurting and needed him to be close.

To remind him that he had done everything he could, even if the words never really helped.

Bruce finished his tea as he walked towards the teleporting arch - having one outside the controlled environment of the Hall of Justice technically was a breach of the security protocols Bruce himself had designed but he was only human and unlike Flash, he couldn't exactly reach the Hall of Justice in the blink of an eye and he couldn't always count on Cyborg to open a Boom Tube for him.

So, yes, breaking the rules was necessary in his case and he would glare at any other League's member who dared to fight him over it.

"I don't think I'll be back until tomorrow morning"

"The manor will stand in your absence, Master Bruce"

Of course it would: Alfred literally kept the place running.

Bruce stepped into the arch and he ignored the uncomfortable sensation at the bottom of his stomach, as if a hook was tugging at the depths of his body - leading him into the Watchtower by his innards; he shook the feeling away and stalked deeper into the familiar room, not sure about where Clark exactly was but letting his instinct take over - he knew the other man, he was confident he wouldn't take him long to find him. His steps echoed in the empty halls, strangely devoid of any activity: it seemed that they all were having an eventful night - unfortunately, some days were less peaceful than others and Bruce wasn't really looking forward to the reports that needed to be sorted.

"He's in the conference room"

Bruce didn't even try to repress the flick of annoyance as J'onn's voice resonated in his mind - the Martian would have been able to detect it anyway, no matter how hard he tried to hide the feeling "Thank you" he thought before he closed his mind, not needing to feel the connection to the other hero as he talked to Clark who, as predicated, was standing by the glass panels and looking out into space.

Looking at Earth.

Bruce joined his lover and wrapped up his arms around his waist, standing a little on his tiptoes so that he could hook his chin on Clark's shoulder. His suit smelled of damp earth and it was spotted with drying mud and dust that was probably getting all over his own suit, in dramatic relief on the dark fabric - Bruce didn't care much, really: the suit was a lighter, older one that he wore only to roam around the Watchtower.

Clark held his breath only for a heartbeat before he let the tension drain from his body and he sagged a little against Bruce's back, knowing that the other man could support his weight "Hi"

"Hi" Bruce greeted back, fingers subtly starting to caress Clark's sternum in what he hoped to be a soothing manner.

"How did the operation go?"

"According to plan"

"Good" Clark nodded, reaching up to cover one of Bruce's hands with his own - grateful; he knew that the other man probably had plenty of things to do, that he hadn't been to bed yet, that coming to the Watchtower must have been the last thing on his mind... But he was there, standing behind him and emanating the sort of quiet that Clark could attune to in order to calm himself down.

"Go for a flight"

"Hmm?"

Bruce pointed to the darkness on the other side of the glass "Sunlight will make you feel better"

"Will you be here when I come back?" Clark asked as he turned around, hands sliding up Bruce's forearms to draw him closer to his chest.

"Of course"

#my writing #superbat #superman #clark kent #batman #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #j'onn j'onzz #h/c #natural disasters #earthquake #bruce is oblivious #but he's a good friend

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kat-astrophic-todd · 6 years

Note

Here's a Batfam prompt: Jason Todd trying to hide from his siblings in the days leading up to his birthday because he doesn't want to celebrate. Angsty or fluff, write whatever you want!

Note: sorry for the unnecessary reality TV references.

...

Jason huffed as he rolled across the rooftop after the jump. His heart pumping against his ribcage, grapple gun ready to fire. They were everywhere.

“Hoo-ood.” The sing-sung version of his name sounded unbelievably threatening. He had to keep running. They would catch him otherwise.

He heard the sound of the wind against a cape moments before firing the gun and jumping. Jason didn’t stop neither when his comm beeped in his ear, waiting for and answer nor when a Wing-Ding almost knocked the grapple gun out of his hand.

Spoiler had been keeping up with his pace but he saw her doubled over, trying to catch her breath. He caught a glimpse of a smirk just before she flipped him off.

Nightwing, on the other hand, looked like he could do this all night. What was he on? Venom? Even Jason was losing his breath at that point but he would be damned if he let himself be caught.

It wasn’t like he hated his birthday, he just hated them. Well, okay, maybe he didn’t hate them, just the way they acted around him. It was all smiles and trying to pretend everything was okay. Jason couldn’t help but remember how his mother would smile through the tears and serve Willis his dinner, how she would coax him to get from under the table, her black eye a stark contrast against her unhealthily pale, sweaty skin.

Jason always knew his place in this patched up family. He was willing to play the reject part, it was fine. But it was just plainly cruel to give him this celebration, as if he suddenly was back in the family, everyone giving him hugs and presents Jason knew he didn’t deserve. He couldn’t bear how Bruce would linger awkwardly near the living room door, waiting for Jason to leave.

It was ridiculous, half of them didn’t even want Jason there.

Last year Damian handed him a present from Talia while spitting some profanity in Arabic, the long box containing a set of curved blades that resembled too much Damian’s straight katanas. With every person in the room eyeing him strangely, Dick had attempted to fix the mood handing him another gift.

Jason would be more than happy to spend his birthday re-reading Hamlet or watching Oprah. But they knew how to make him bend to their wishes. They knew his weakness, his kryptonite, and his name was Alfred Pennyworth.

Just hearing the butler’s british accent on the phone would make him break, because Jason knew that he was the one who wanted him there the most. Alfred had never failed to show Jason how much he loved the broken boy.

And the old man knew it. He knew Jason couldn’t say no to him.

That’s why he avoided them.

“Just give up, Little Wing.” Nightwing shouted merrily while chasing him. And Jason wanted so bad to yank the helmet from his head to have some extra oxygen.

He felt relieved when he spotted his motorbike across the street, the red bat like a bloodstain on the grey paint.

He managed to get down and run to it without Nightwing catching up to him, which seemed like a little miracle. He started the engine and never looked back.

...

Two days until his birthday and then he could get back to his everyday life. Jason sighed, a little relieved, a little exasperated, and leaned back against his gargoyle enjoying the wind on his face. The extra large bag of Doritos was secured between his thighs and he chugged at the RedBull in his hand.

Yeah, sometimes growing up meant you could have an unhealthy meal once in a while. Jason smiled to himself.

“You’re sooo screwed, Jay.” Tim’s voice travelled through the night, hus tone sending chills down Jason’s spine.

“t.t.” he wasn’t alone.

“What are you two doing here.” If they were working together that meant nothing good could come out of this situation.

“We got you.” Tim smirked and showed him his very expensive Wayne Tech phone. The screen showed a video of Jason eating Doritos and drinking RedBull with a smug smile on his face.

“I didn’t know you were back to stalking people.” Jason stared at Tim unamused.

“Alfred’s going to be so disappointed.” Tim held a hand to his heart, the dramatic fucker. “You were the only one he trusted to eat healthy meals. Imagine his face when we show him this video…”

“You wouldn’t.” Jason instantly replied, all the joy his childish meal brought him, gone.

“But I sure would.” Damian declared with a wolf-like smile.

“Now that we have your attention,” Tim continued. It was like they had rehearsed this. Creepy. “we trust you’ll come to your birthday party.”

“Why?” Jason was downright frustrated by that point. “I know you don’t want me there. You should use that video to prevent me from going to the manor.” He gestured aggressively with his hands.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Todd. All that everyone has been talking about these past weeks is your party.” The kid rolled his eyes. “Even Mother. She’s already sent me your gift.”

Jason looked down, the fall didn’t seem so bad compared to having this conversation. Tim sighed.

“Look, Jason. We get your lone wolf vibe and all that but we want to be with you on your birthday. It’s the only time you let us, you know, be a family to you.” Tim waved at his general direction.

“What?” Jason scoffed. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. What alternative universe was this?

Tim and Damian looked at each other, unsure and turned their heads to him at the same time. Again, creepy.

“We…” Tim’s eyes were wide and shocked. “You know we wish everyday was like your birthday, right?”

“What are you talking about?” It sounded more like an accusation than a question. Damian frowned at him and took a step towards the gargoyle.

“Every year we spend weeks preparing for your birthday. Grayson and Brown have Father practice so he won’t do something that will make you lash out.” The words should have made him feel warm inside but he felt like he was being attacked Gordon Ramsay style. He was half expecting to be called “panini head”. “Pennyworth spends hours trying new recipes you might like. Even Thomas has been helping.”

“Jay,” Tim’s voice was soft, “everyone looks up to your birthday. We… we want you there, all the time.”

“You have a weird way to show it.” Jason wanted to believe them but the facts remained: they didn’t do anything to welcome him back. It was easy to behave one day a year, but Jason knew they wouldn’t be so welcoming if he decided to live with them.

“You self-righteous-”

“Easy, Damian.” Tim stopped him from smacking Jason. Tim turned to him when Damian calmed down. “I know you won’t believe us until you see it. That’s okay.” He combed his hair back with a hand, visibly trying to think what he should do. “You still have to come to the party because we’ve spent too many fucking hours working on it for you to throw that effort at our faces.” He looked at Jason coldly, unwaveringly.

“Fine,” Jason growled.

They were about to jump off the building when Tim turned back with a determined expression.

“Maybe, if you have the balls to do it, you’ll stay long enough to realize that the only thing stopping us from being your family, is you.”

And they jumped, leaving Jason feeling numb and Gordon Ramasy’ed.

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mamgt · 6 years

Text

Falling Stars

Chapter 3: How Do We Rewrite The Stars?

Song: Rewrite the Stars by Zac Efron and Zendaya

Table of Contents

“Did you get home safe?” read Tom’s text.

We had just arrived to L.A. and it was still dark outside. My body clock was completely off with all the traveling that I decided to unpack all my suitcases at 2 in the morning. I hadn’t fixed my stuff since my trip to Australia because I was too tired then but now I had all the energy in the world.

I was putting my clothes in a laundry bag, more like shoving, when my phone lit up. I walked towards my bedside table where I had put it to play music and saw Tom’s message. His body clock must be off too.

“Yeah. You?” I replied.

“Yup! Already landed in L.A.” he replied back. “How was the flight?” he added.

I honestly couldn’t remember. Since this whole falling for Tom thing started, my mind hasn’t been itself. It’s all cluttered and confused. I barely slept on the flight back, not even a blink. My mind kept going back to how I acted in London and what Darnell had said, “What if he does?” then it would alternate with memories of me with Tom before this whole situation happened, before I realized that I had fallen in love with this nerd. Was it possible that he could like me too? I shook my head. I don’t want to put myself up just to be let down.

“Fine. Yours?”

“Fine.”

What do I reply to that? I stared at the screen, thinking if I should say something more or leave the conversation as it is when I saw the little bubble that meant he was typing something. Then it disappeared. I heaved a heavy sigh. That’s it? Then the bubble came back.

Then was gone again.

Came back again for awhile like he was writing a long message.

Then gone again.

Like he was hesitating.

What is he typing?

“Z.”

Wow. One letter.

“Yeah?”

“Can I call you?”

I stared at his last message and squinted my eyes at it. I looked at the clock: 2:08 am.

At 2 am? Can he call me at 2 am? Do I have the wits for this? But I can’t avoid him. Not like I did back in London. Of all the places I could’ve been a jerk to Tom, I did it in his own city. Darnell was right; first and foremost he was my friend and I can’t go acting crazy around him by taking him out of my photos and avoiding every chance I get. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, blowing the hair that had fallen on my face. I typed “Sure.” Then his name appeared on my phone and I clicked the green button to answer.

“Hey..” his voice was quiet and low. I little smile crept on my face. I don’t know why but hearing him made me happy. The mere sound of his voice reminds me with every second, I fall harder.

“Hi.”

“Can’t sleep?” he said.

“Yeah…”

“Me too” and then there was silence. This was excruciating. I need this to stop. No matter how I feel I don’t want this to be awkward. I looked at my suitcases and thought of telling him about what I was doing.

“So—“

“I-“

We spoke at the same time. “Uh, sorry. What were you saying?” he said.

“No it’s fine. What were you going to say?” I said.

“Oh… uhm…” he said and then silence fell on us again and so I decided to cut it.

“I’m trying to fix my stuff…from all the traveling. It’s harder than I thought it would be.” I laughed weakly. “I wish I had already unpacked before. Now they’re all just… here….you know what I mean?”

“Oh that’s cool. I mean, not cool, I-uh…Do you need help?”

“Darnell is already asleep and I already asked Noon and he said no.”

“Well…uhm.. I can…uh.. come over? I can help you.” My eyebrows shot up. I was surprised. At 2 am? I checked the time on my alarm clock. I wasn’t losing it. It was 2 in the morning and he was offering to come over? To unpack my stuff? Huh?

“I mean. If you want. That is.” He added.

“You can? I guess. If… I mean it’s two in the morning Tom…”

“I know but I have all this energy…”

“Same!!” I laughed.

“Yeah, so. Am I coming over? Use my spidey skills on your luggage”

“You know you’re not really Spider-man, right?” I had this wide grin on my face. Ear to ear, as they say.

“What? I am. I am Spider-man,” he said pretending to be hurt. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes” and then he dropped the phone.

Ohhh shit…

What just happened? Is Tom really coming over here at two in the fucking morning. Do you know what it sounds like? It sounds like a booty call. I mean. He didn’t call me for that— But I mean the situation. What would other people think? What would they— WAIT. No. I don’t care about what other people think, remember? Right. So. He’s just coming over here as a friend. I need to remind myself of that. I owe him anyways for how I acted back in London. The guilt was evident, like a lump in my throat.

Okay. So. We’re going to be calm and col-lec-ted. I know I keep telling myself that and then when Tom comes the “zen” in Zendaya flies away. Boom. But it has to be different now. So what do I do? I paced back in forth in my room, biting the bottom of lip. “What do you think I should do, Noon?” I looked at Noon who was comfortable in my bed. He rolled over with his feet up in the air and his belly facing the ceiling. I giggled. “I didn’t ask you to play dead, son…”

Act. You’re an actress. Then… ACT.

“I’m actress.” I told myself out loud. “Yeah! I’ll just act like we’re just friends. Because we are. Yeah. You got this. You got this.” I started jogging in place and punching the air like Rocky Balboa “I GOT THIS.”

Ding.

I got a message. Tom texted that he was already outside. Oh shit. But what do I look like? I ran to the mirror and saw my reflection. I was wearing a big T-shirt and sweatpants. Nothing out of the ordinary, to be honest. My hair was tied into a loose ponytail that sent my curls everywhere. There were dark circles under my eyes, too.

“GAHHH!” I said to my reflection. No. We’re not going to fix myself. Tom has seen me this way and we are going to ACT. ACT LIKE I DON’T LIKE HIM. “Go Zendaya, guuurl you got this.” I pumped myself up and went down to get the door.

I opened the door to Tom who was hugging himself so tightly. His breath created small white puffs in the air. “W-w-what t-t-took you so lo-lo-long?! I-It’s fuh-fuh-fre-freezing!” he stammered, rubbing his arms up and down to warm himself. I closed the door behind him and laughed.

“You’re such a wimp.” I walked past him and towards the stairs.

“Hey! You try going outside!”

“No thanks!” and continued climbing up the stairs. Tom followed, taking two steps at a time to catch up with me. When he was close enough, he put his hand on my arm.

“WOAH! STOP!” I jumped. His hand was REALLY cold. I stopped climbing up the stairs and looked at him. He looked smug with his hair tousled. Honestly Tom, you’re not making this whole acting thing easy for me.

“I told you. You were going to let my butt freeze out there.”

“Some spider-man huh?” I teased.

“Well, you’re on a roll tonight!” he laughed. We walked inside my room with all my stuff scattered around. There was a pile of shoes and another pile for my clothes. I had several laundry bags that I already filled. Noon was walking about my piles, trying to find a place to nuzzle himself in but then he spotted Tom and ran to him. “Hey! Hey, boy! Did you miss me? Yeah, you did!,” Tom said as he picked up Noon and gave him a little shake. He put him down and Noon ran back to my bed. I smiled at them. My son and my…Tom… not even my Tom. Just Tom.

“Wow that’s a lot of stuff” Tom commented as he rubbed his hands together to get himself warm.

“I’m gonna use my spidey-skillzz pew pew pew” I said mocking him and pretending to shoot spiderwebs from my wrists.

“Fuck off!!!” he said then proceeded to follow me to the other side of my mountain of clothes and shoes. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t touch my clothes” I sassed.

“What? But I thought the whole point was to—“

“Bring down the laundry bag over there. I don’t want you touchin’ my delicates”

“I don’t want you touchin’ my delicates” Tom mocked my feminine voice and started to lift up my laundry bag.

“I’m sorry, you said something?” I teased.

“No ma’am Zendaya. I was simply saying you look awfully ravishing tonight” he replied, exaggerating his British accent.

“Just bring it down to the laundry room, Alfred,” I said, copying Batman’s voice. Tom laughed and for a moment I thought this was going to work. If I can just put my feelings aside, this was going to work. I nodded to myself.

“Hey Tom!” Tom had already left the room but when I called him, he peeped his head out from the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” I said and gave him a genuine smile. He returned the smile back at me and I could feel myself melt from where I was standing.

“Sure, love.”

I can do this. This friendship means more to me than what I feel. Tom is such a good guy. Genuinely good and great, that’s why I HAVE the feelings. I can’t just push him aside without an explanation. Look at him helping me out with my stuff. Who does that? What guy would do that for his friend?

You need to be stronger, Zendaya. No more freaking out. The more you do crazy shit, the more he’ll pull away for sure. And you can’t do that because…

Because I’m used to having him around.

“Okay. What’s next?” Tom jumped into the room with his hands spread out like a toddler showing off as if proud for bringing down a bag of laundry. I shook out of my trance and looked around.

“Uhm… You can start getting some of my shoes and just arrange them in my closet. By pairs!”

“I wouldn’t dare not to put them back by PAIRS!” he dramatically said with big eyes. I laughed. “You better not break any of those Tom!” I shouted after him as he went into my closet with at least 4 pairs of shoes in his hands. I sat down and started shoving another pile of clothes into a laundry bag.

“Ohh.. What’s this?” I heard him say from inside my closet.

“Tom?” I shouted. He didn’t answer.

“Tom? What are you doing?” I tried again but still, no response. I stood up from where I was sitting on the floor and walked to my closet. “Tom what the — FUCK?”

Tom was wearing my dancing shoes, the ones I used for Dancing With The Stars. I had kept them because they carried so much memories and a feat that I will never forget. At 16, I learned to dance ballroom, a style outside of my comfort zone. I was the first youngest contestant on the show, not to mention I had to dance with a guy so much older than me. But Val was cool. I found a big brother in him and he had taught me so much not just in dancing. He taught me to believe in myself and to keep pushing because there’s more to me than I know. And I taught the grumpy old man to laugh. I miss Val.

“I didn’t know you still had these!!” Tom said excitedly. “I fit in them too! I didn’t know your feet were THAT big! How did you dance in them? I bet you kept stepping on his—what’s his name—Victor?”

“Fuck off!” We were both laughing. Tom looked RIDICULOUS. I don’t know why he decided to wear my shoes but it DID fit him. “And it’s Val!” I added. Tom modeled around with my shoes. He kept trying to do a fierce face and putting his hands on his waist. I kept laughing at the whole scene.

“Take those off! They have sentimental value!!” I exclaimed, holding my stomach because it was hurting from all the laughing. Tom kept posing like a supermodel, flicking his invisible long hair along the way. “Seriously Tom, you’ll —“

And he tripped. “Ooof!”

“…hurt. yourself.” I laughed hysterically. How is it possible that he danced Rihanna’s Umbrella in heels but can’t even walk in my dancing shoes! He never fails to give me an ab workout from all the laughing. I was literally bracing myself for dear life. I was laughing so hard, I was on the ground with my eyes shut.

“Okay. Taking them off,” he said, defeated. He sat up and took off my shoes. I looked up and he was already standing over me with my dancing shoes dangling from his hand. He held out his other hand and I took it to stand up.

“You wear them” he said as he held my shoes in front of my face without letting go of my hand.

“Why?” I said, with tears in my eyes from all the laughing. He just shrugged. I looked at the shoes. I did miss dancing with these even if I hated them the first time and was happy to have ended my relationship with it after Dancing With The Stars.

“Can I have my hand back?” I said and he let it go. I got the shoes from him and walked to my bed and started putting on my dancing shoes.

“There. Happy?” I said as I stood up from my bed. These shoes felt like home now. They eventually molded around my feet as I kept dancing in them.

“Not quite.”

I looked at him with a face that said, What the fuck? He just laughed. “We have to DANCE in them! That’s why they’re called dancing shoes,” he said

“We? But YOU don’t have dancing shoes!” I teased. Tom walked over to me and held both my hands. He walked backwards, facing me, pulling me into the center of the room. “Yeah, but I think Val was just as short EVEN with the dancing shoes” he teased back. I laughed.

“Wait,” he said. He let go my hand and pushed around my clothes and luggages to give us more room.

“So what are we doing? Cha-cha? Waltz?” I asked as he moved around the stuff and I tried to remember how each style was danced.

“Hm…just this.” He raised my left hand and put my right hand on his shoulder. He proceeded to put his free hand on my waist. He stepped sideways and brought me along. He swayed and I swayed along with him.

Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

Even though I was taller than him, I met his eyes. That calmed me. I smiled. He smiled back. The music played in the background and we swayed to it slowly. How does he do it? One moment I’m a nervous wreck, stuttering, tripping, and doing all sorts of stupid then another, he calms me. Heart beating fast but I’m comfortable.

“You think it’s easy…You think I don’t want to run to you. But there are mountains. There are doors that we can’t walk through,” the music played.

“Hey it’s you,” he was able to whisper into my ear because our heads were so close.

“Hm,” I said in agreement. I’m going to enjoy this. I’m not letting myself ruin this. I put my head on his shoulder. I had to bend a little but it wasn’t uncomfortable. But I’m not going to let you see what you’re doing to me. Our chests pressed against each other and he kept the lead, swaying me side to side. I moved my hand on his shoulder to around his neck in a sort of embrace. He moved his hand that was on the small of my back to around my waist. I wonder if he could feel my heartbeat pounding, trying to get out of my chest to meet his. I wonder if we could stay like this without these questions in my head: why did I have to fall for you? What’s going to happen? Am I always going to feel this way? Do you feel the same way? What if you don’t? Do I lose you?

“We’re bound to breaking. My hands…are tied.” The song ended. My phone played the next song — Beyonce. I lifted my head and pulled myself away from Tom. He smiled at me, I smiled back. I could drown in those eyes but Zendaya, FOCUS. “We should finish THAT” I said as I pointed to my pile of clothes and shoes.

After some time, we got through a lot of my clothes and returned my shoes back into the closet. There was one more suitcase left but Tom and I got hungry so we went down to the kitchen to eat some chips and eventually retired to the couch. Tom borrowed a sweater from me because he was still cold from waiting outside. I kept my dancing shoes and decided to wear fluffy slippers instead. We were laying on my couch, staring at the TV screen that wasn’t even turned on. It was still pretty dark outside and the only light was coming from the kitchen.

“Zendaya.”

“Hm?” I lifted my head to look at him. He was sitting on one end of the couch and I was on the other end.

“So..” he cleared his throat. “We… You and I…”

Oh no. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! He saw right through me!! I was giving off that vibe… oh no. OH FUCK.

“We’re okay right?”

“Huh?!” I said.

“I mean. In London? You were… I don’t know. I kind of got the feeling that you didn’t want me around. Did I do something wrong”

Oh thank god. I thought he was going to ask if “we’re ‘just friends’ right?” That “you know I don’t have feelings for you right?”

I didn’t reply quickly because I was internally celebrating that he didn’t think I liked him. Tom continued, “I’m sorry if I did. If I…I had done something to…”

“No! I’m sorry ‘bout that. The way I acted in London… was way… way.. off. I don’t know… what happened.” I mean I do but I’m not going to tell you that oh I accidentally fell for you, sorry. “But you didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t worry. We’re okay” I continued.

“Are you sure? You can be honest with me Z….” his voice was real quiet and I can sense the hurt. It must have really bothered him.

“I am honest!” Not about my feelings towards you but honest in every other aspect.

“I know it’s our thing to like joke around each other but if you ever feel like it’s going overboard, like if I’m hurting your feelings…” His face was in pain. What did I do? It must have been a big deal for him… me pulling away…

“Tom.” I touched his arm. “You couldn’t, okay. Even if you could. I would definitely tell you, okay. Listen, I am a girl of confrontation. You know that.” I bit my lower lip because although that was true in most circumstances, my feelings were not exactly something I would like to confront him with. Nonetheless, a smile crept up his face and I knew I was a goner.

This isn’t going away. How I feel. It’s going to stay but it doesn’t mean our friendship has to go. The way he asked me about London. It genuinely affected him. He doesn’t deserve that. I just have to keep THIS inside. I guess. It’s worth it if it means seeing this face. If it means two in the morning hang-outs. If it means I get to see that smile and know that I can be the reason behind it.

“Yeah I do. That’s good to hear. I couldn’t afford to lose one of my best mates.”

“Yeah, dude. You got me.” You SO got me. I sighed heavily and we continued to space out on the empty TV. I could see his reflection on it and he still had that stupid smile on his face and I could see he was staring at my reflection too. I had a stupid smile on my face. This is how it’s going to be.

I don’t want to lose you.

Tom and I kept talking until the sun started peeking through the windows and the sky turned pink. We had moved into my house’s front steps as the temperature increased and we were sure we wouldn’t freeze our butts off. We caught up on the things that were going in our lives and the feelings we still needed to release even if the occasion from which it was produced was long over. Of course, excluding whatever I felt for him. We laughed until we were coughing, waking up the early birds. Tom then started asking advice again about his fame. Ever since the Civil War movie came out, the amount of attention he has been receiving has tripled or quadrupled, or whatever. It was insane how quickly he became famous and that’s amazing but there were downsides to it. He’s not used to it since it happened so quickly. He would call me up especially when it got too out of hand. I’m happy enough to help. Being under the spotlight for so long that I basically grew up in front of everyone, I had some experience with the press and their unrelenting goal of knowing EVERYTHING. I was no expert, though. My fame was different from his. He’s a superhero. A well loved and known icon even before any of us were born. He was integrated to not only the icons of the superhero world but the biggest stars in Hollywood. Yet, he turned to me every time. He trusted in what I said and looked up to me in a way.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

“Nah. You get used to it or you pretend to look like you do…”

“You just look so unbothered, not even, not just unbothered but elegant.”

“…Thanks.” I managed to croak out. I’m pretty damn sure a crazy ass smile is plastered on my face. I pursed my lips to keep it from showing.

“Hey, Z.”

“Hm?”

“Do you think…” he trailed off.

“What? What do I think?”

“No. It’s stupid. Nevermind.” He looked far off onto the street. I looked at him and his perfect jawline as it casted shadows on his neck. The sunrise was giving him a glow.

“Just say it. You’re already stupid.” I laughed and nudged him.

“Hey…”

“Go!”

“Fine. Do you think…it’s possible to date…?” Me? Yes. Kidding. He didn’t say me but duh. That was the first thing in my head. It was sad that something so simple as dating became trivial once you were under the spotlight. Believe. Me. Been there, done that. As much as I thought I would be devastated being single again, I actually prefer it. There was nothing to hide. Except maybe now with my feelings for Tom. But a whole part of me was hidden when I was in a relationship. It was safe there but it was hard. It was something I wanted to keep safe but you sacrifice being real with people who support you, look up to you. I haven’t even told Tom who I dated before. Not the name. Not the specifics.

“Of course! It’s still your life, Tom. Don’t let it stop you from loving someone besides, with you being Spider-man! You could get any girl!” You could get me.

Tom laughed and I laughed with him. It occurred to me the truth of my words. He could get anyone. Literally, thousands of girls would sign-up for him because he was Spider-man but not just that. He was beautiful and kind. What girl wouldn’t love that? Suddenly, my mood dropped. Not only do I have to worry about what would happen if he knew I was catching feelings for him but whether I would, against all those other girls, be the one he chooses. If I’m even a choice. I was looking at my hands as I unclenched them. I didn’t even realize my hands were balled into fists, trying to hold on to nothing. I looked at Tom to see if he saw my hands only to find that he had been looking at me this whole time.

“What?” Did he see my ball up my fists? Oh no. He said nothing at first and opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. Just like the little bubble in the text messages.

“Wha-at?” I repeated. He smiled. A beautiful and kind smile. The smile that knees go weak for.

“Nothing.” He turned to look at the street again. It was my turn to gaze at him.

“Do you think I could date a celebrity?,” he asked quietly like a little boy too shy to ask questions but is genuinely curious about the world. He turned to me and locked his eyes on mine. “I mean, is it hard? If both of us were famous?”

I looked away. I felt the blood pulsate all the way to my cheeks. I didn’t want to hope that it was possible that he could like me back especially the idea that we could be together. I’m not prepping myself up for disappointment and even if we could be together….”It is kind of…hard.”

“Yeah?”

“But not impossible. I guess. It depends on who you’ll be with, you know what I mean? Lots of celebrities end up together! Selena Gomez and Justin B— okay no they broke up, Channing Tatum— no they got a divorce. Uhm… Beyonce and Jay-Z! There you go! Two perfectly famous people.”

“Jay-Z cheated though.”

“Okay. But! But, they’re still together.” I said but Tom didn’t look convinced. I wasn’t either because WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MINDS WOULD CHEAT ON BEYONCE?!

“Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone…,” Tom piped in.

“Yeah but I think they broke up…” Silence. Again. I can’t have this. “But you can be the exception.” He looked at me, I looked away. “I mean. Why are we comparing you to all these people? You’re not them. Tom. This is still your life. Don’t let other people tell you who you get to love or if you’re allowed to love. You know what I mean? I know this whole fame thing is scaring you but you’re still you. You still control YOUR life. If being in a relationship with someone who is famous, maybe as famous as the queen…”

“THE QUEEN? SHE’S TOO OLD!”

“B. Queen B. You didn’t let me finish!” We both laughed. “No matter who it is, crazy famous or not, as long as it makes you happy? Go for it. Shoot for the stars!”

“Or..rewrite the stars…” he whispered under his breath.

“SHUT UP! I was really in the moment.”

Tom laughed stupidly, leaning forward the way he does when he’s genuinely laughing so hard. “I know. I know. That’s some good advice.”

“Well. You know…” I said, flipping my hair, pretending to be snooty and proud. Tom was still staring at me with a smile on his face and I felt conscious about it. I looked down onto my toes and prayed to God, I didn’t start sweating because it was going to be seen through my shirt.

“Would you do it?,” Tom asked.

“Date someone famous?”

“Yeah?”

“Uhm… I mean yeah. If it made me happy, like I said.” And you make me happy. But this okay. It’s okay if we’re just friends. I don’t want this relationship to end and I know I shouldn’t be basing it off of the last relationship I had but if I do date Tom, what if ends bad? I need this face. I need his soul. He makes me feel like how someone people feel when they get a million likes on Instagram, validated in some way, like I belong somewhere, maybe right here, beside him. He was an extension of home. A comfort I never thought I needed.

“Did he make you happy?”

“Who?,” I said, snapping out of my reverie.

“Your ex?”

“I mean. We were together for 4 years so that must have accounted for SOME happiness,” I joked. Tom seemed serious, however. “Of course. Of course he made me happy. You wouldn’t last in a relationship that didn’t feel right. He made me laugh… a lot. Made me feel good about myself…and then it didn’t… then he just brought sadness…”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I brushed it off.

“I didn’t mean to pry… We don’t have to talk about it…Sorry…”

“No, man, it’s all good. I really am over it. I’m just saying that…yeah for a time he made me happy. It ended bad but I can’t deny that for a time…” I shrugged. I hate looking back at it because I was so young and so ignorant. You always go in blind the first time but you come out smarter, wiser. Maybe a little bruised, sometimes walls up but when you can find someone to bring them down…I looked back at Tom who was still staring at me. I smiled at him to let him know I really was okay but he still had that look on his face. “Stop staring at me!”

“Sorry!,” he said as he put his hands up. He smiled and looked away.

Eventually our energies ran dry and we fell asleep. Tom leaned on my front door and I settled on his lap, one of his hands resting on my back. I want to say that that’s how Darnell found us but I think it wasn’t a smart move for Tom to have leaned on a DOOR. Imagine Darnell pulling it open, hysterical that I was not in bed.

SMACK.

Tom’s head hit the floor of my house. “FUCK!”

“SHIT!” That was Darnell. I was luckily safe from any harm because I was cushioned by Tom’s legs.

“OH SHIT! TOM? TOM? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” Darnell frantically lifted Tom’s head up and ran to the kitchen. I removed myself from Tom, “What the fuck happened?” Tom was rubbing the back of his head and had his eyes squeezed shut. “Why…do I… always get hurt…when you fall asleep…on…me?” he said in between breaths. “Ahhhhh…,” he released a painful breath.

“Fuck! I’m sorry!” I reached out for the back of his head and kneeled in front of him. There was a bump this time. “OW!” A big one. Do you think his manager will kill me or Nikki… or his brothers…? Oops. “Sorry, dude. But you shouldn’t have leaned on A DOOR!”

“Hey! I’m already injured here!!”

“Right, right, sorry.” I rubbed the areas surrounding the bump instead, careful not to touch it so it wouldn’t cause anymore pain that it already did. Darnell came back with a pack of ice.

“Here…” he gave me the ice and I held it to the bump on his head. “Ow..ow! OW! Careful!”

“Sorry…sorry… here you do it…” I said as I tried to hand the ice pack to him.

“No. it’s fine. You do it…” He pushed the ice away and I held it again to his head. I moved in closer so I wouldn’t strain myself and lifted his torso a little more. His eyes fluttered open. We were so close again. Those eyes stared back at me intensely and I could feel like something was happening. Like a tornado in my stomach. What are you doing to me again, Tom? We held each other’s gaze forgetting that Darnell was standing right behind us.

“WAIT! HOLD UP! What in the hell were you doing here in the first place huh?” Here we go again. Darnell is grandmother mode. “Yo Z! I was worried when you weren’t in bed? God knows you never leave that place and so imagine the fear that fell over me when I found it empty! Huh!?”

“I mean, it’s not like we left. We’re here,” I replied.

“AND TOM! Sorry again…for the head but why would you lean on the door…”

“I told him that too!” I exclaimed.

“HEY! HEY! Wait a minute. Wait a minute! I’m already hurt here! Am I really getting scolded on this?” and Tom pointed to the area where his bump was and where I was holding the ice pack on.

“Sorry ‘bout that, again. I guess not. What were y’all doin’ out here anyways?”

“We fell asleep,” I replied.

“On the front door?”

“Yeah.”

“When there’s a perfectly good couch inside?”

“We watched the sunrise and we were talking….” Tom said. When he said that, Darnell looked at me and suddenly had this look on his face like his whole demeanor changed from grandmother to brother. I knew that face. He was about to bust my ass.

“NO NO NO!,” I exclaimed. I gave Tom the ice pack and stood up to push Darnell inside. I cut off whatever Tom was going to say because I was terrified that Darnell was going to say something. He had a goofy ass smile on his face and wide eyes, which, as history would tell, was not a good thing.

“Oh shiiiit! Did you tell him?”

“What? What’s going on?,” Tom said as I left him and pulled Darnell and I out of earshot.

“SHHHHHH. No! Darnell shut up. I DIDN’T tell him anything. Why would you think that?,” I said in a loud whisper.

“Because sunrise shit is such a couple thing to do miss Daya, okay… also finding him here? When did he even come? I slept at one in the morning and the boy wasn’t here. So what time did he come, huh? WHY did he come?”

“Did you guys just really leave me out there? Really? Do you hate me that much?” Tom walked in, balancing the ice pack on his head and it already made his hair wet. “What are you whispering about?”

“Why are you here, Tom?” Darnell blatantly asked. My eyes grew wild. HE DID NOT JUST ASK THAT??? I hit Darnell in the arm, “OW! What?” Darnell rubbed his arm to ease the pain. “Shut up.” I whispered. Tom laughed at the sight. Thank God. He just thinks Darnell is being funny.

“I was helping Zendaya unpack her stuff. We both couldn’t sleep last night so I thought I could come over… Sorry… am I allowed to come over?”

“Yeah, of course! It’s MY house.” I emphasized the last part to Darnell and tried to send him a signal to shut the fuck up.

“Of course, Tom. You’re always welcome here, no prob. We good. Sorry if that came off wrong!”

“No pro— oh shit. What time is it?”

“Last time I checked around twelve…twelve thirty…”

“In the afternoon?!” Tom said, exasperated.

“Yeah?” Darnell replied.

What the fuck? We slept for that long? I’m surprised none of us got cramps.

“OH FUCK! I HAVE TO GO! Sorry about, why am I saying sorry? Uhhh thanks…for the ice? I’ll see you…OH SHIT!”

“What!” Darnell and I said in unison.

“I asked someone, Brian, my manager’s driver to drop me off here...,” Tom explained.

“WAIT! I’ll drive you. Anyways, you can’t go out alone with that bump in your head.” Darnell said to Tom and he turned to me, “I’ll take your car. Okay?” “Sure!” I said.

“Give me a sec. I’ll just get the keys. Bring him to your car already, Z.” Darnell left and I held Tom’s arm. I led him down to the garage where my car was parked.

“Sorry, again for THAT.”

“It’s cool. Literally.” He said, holding on to his ice pack. I laughed at how corny that pun was. How does he manage to make me feel better when I almost blew his head off? Not me, though. Darnell. But still.

“Thanks for helping me out, by the way. You’re really nice, you know that? Like. I can’t tell you enough.”

“It’s okay. I like the compliments, keep them coming, keep them coming.”

“If you didn’t have that bump in your head… I swear…”

We both laughed and Darnell eventually came. He opened the car and slipped into the driver seat. I opened the door for Tom and he went inside. Darnell started the engine and Tom had opened the passenger’s window.

“D’you know, in England, we do this thing to make the healing process faster…”

“What?!” I said too eagerly out of guilt, concern, and maybe fear that one his talent managers was going to have my head on a stake some time today.

“A kiss.” That took not only me by surprise but as well as Darnell. We both looked at each other like… oh shit. He did not just…SHIT.

“Kiss on the bruise? I was kidding about it being an English thing!” Tom laughed, amused at his joke that no one seemed to have gotten but himself. Darnell and I just laughed along with him. “Wait. Do you really not have it here?”

“We do…” Darnell said, focusing on the steering wheel.

“Keep dreaming, Spider-man,” I said coolly.

“I will,” Tom said with a smug.

“Okay, lovebirds. I remember someone was late for some shit… so are we going?”

“RIGHT! Okay. Let’s go. Bye, Love!” Tom waved like a little boy from inside the car. Darnell pressed on the gas and the car left. Tom has called me love a bunch of times before and other people too, it doesn’t mean anything but nowadays it doesn’t fail to send butterflies into my stomach. I wondered if Darnell saying “lovebirds” had any bearing on Tom. I stared at the ice pack in my hand, forgetting when I took it away from him. I walked back inside the house and dropped it in the sink.

Things haven’t changed. I was still falling for Tom. I say falling because I feel like every moment I spend with him I just dig deeper into the pit that is my feelings for him. But for the first time since I liked him, I was calm. It was possible to act like everything was normal, to act like things were the way before. I released a tired breath and dumped myself on to the couch. But it didn’t mean it made it any easier.

“I deserve an Oscar for best actress!” I mumbled into the pillow before falling back to sleep.

Next Chapter

inspired by this tweet:

Credits to gif owners!

#zendaya #zendaya coleman #tom holland x zendaya #tomdaya #tomdaya fanfiction #tomdaya fanfic #fanfic #fan fic #fan fiction #tom holland #spider-man homecoming #spider-man #falling stars #ch 3 #peter parker #michelle jones

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ellana-ravenwood · 6 years

Text

In which the Batboys fight to know which Hogwart’s house is the best - Batmom x Batfam

Well...I mean, why not right ? I might as well have drifted away from the original request but..It happens you know ^^'. Oh and before I get too many comments about it : I sorted the boys in houses I thought would fit them, it’s only my opinion and of course I can be wrong but...It’s just a story ^^' (I’m saying that because I know some of us potterheads can get very passionate about in which house which hero is and like...I’m not writing this to raise any debate, just writing this because someone requested it and liked the idea). Hope you’ll like it :

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

It was breakfast time and you were all sitting around the kitchen counter, still groggy with sleep, eating the breakfast Alfred made you like robots.

Mornings weren’t really the best sociable and lively time in your household...

Like every morning, you were snuggled close to your husband, your legs across his own, his free hand, the one he wasn’t using to eat, absentmindedly caressing your thighs. By now, all of your sons had came to ignore your lovey dovey gestures and just eat their breakfast as if you weren’t there.

But from time to time, for good measure, they would shiver in disgust, or just whisper a small “ew”, and avoid their father’s glare. Like right now, as Bruce bends to kiss your forehead gently, and you smile stupidly, lift your head and give him a kiss on his lips...”Eew”, they all say.

You smile some more as your husband squint at them and...Wait, all ? No, one was missing.

Damian didn’t say anything, while usually, he was the most vocal one.

As you were bringing your coffee to your lips, you could see, from the corner of your eyes, your youngest son, apparently lost in his thoughts.

Oh he looked so much like Bruce right now, focus on something unknown.

You turned your head completely to him, observing how his brow was furrowed, his eyes looking somewhere in front of him, not moving, his hands linked under his chin, his breakfast left untouched in front of him...

He feels your gaze and looks at you.

You smile fondly at him, and he smiles back. You don’t need to talk for him to understand you’re wondering what he’s up to, as he can read the curiosity in your eyes, and the way you bend your head slightly on the side physically signifying said curiosity.

-I was thinking about Harry Potter.

He says simply, and you can’t help but smile even wider.

Oh Harry Potter. You had been a huge fan of it ever since the first book was released. You could remember it as if it was yesterday, how you initially bought the book for Dick, who was about to turn 9, and ended up reading the all thing before him...From that moment, you were hooked, and your passion for it was so vibrant that it made your sons fall in love with it too !

It always made Bruce’s heart melt, whenever he caught you and your boys watching the films, or having a silent reading party.

So of course, when you had learned that Damian never even heard of Harry Potter before...you had to do something about it ! At first, he wasn’t really up for it, until he read the first book and the rest was history.

After he read all the books, you guys marathoned (for the 32482932 times) all the Harry Potter movie in one day and one night (Bruce fell asleep on you half way through “The Chamber of Secrets”).

This was only a few days ago, as you were all very busy and it took time to gather the entire family to watch those films...You can’t help but chuckle a bit as the words “Harry Potter” coming out of Damian’s mouth make your other sons turn their attention to him. Your husband rolls his eyes. Oh man, here we go again.

-Oh ? And what were you thinking about ?

-Houses.

-...Houses ?

-Yes. Hogwarts’ houses. I was wondering, if we were wizards, in which house would we be ?

Tim, after a loud slurp of his coffee, says :

-We wouldn’t be in Hogwarts if we were wizards. We’re americans, so we’d be at Ilvermorny.

Damian makes his trademark “tt” sound and, annoyed, turns to his brother saying :

-You perfectly know what I’m talking about ! But alright, what if we were wizards AND British ?

Tim smiles smugly at him, always happy to mess around with his little brother (after all, he stayed the youngest Wayne boy for a long time, and Dick and Jason teased him enough that he felt he earned this). After glaring some more at Tim, Damian turns back to you and, his eyes full of a new spark of curiosity, he asks you again :

-So ? What if we were wizards - and British yes Drake I know !- ? What Hogwarts house would we be in ?

You can feel their gaze on you and...Oh. Oh ! OOooOOoooooOOoh. They're expecting you to tell them ? Oh dear.

************

And this is when it all starts.

They’re all aligned in front of you, sitting on the huge living room couch, waiting for you to sort them into a house. They even forced your husband and poor Alfred to join (even though they secretly love it, because they kinda want to know as well in which Hogwarts’ house they would be !).

To your sons, it made sense that you’d be the one to sort them all, because you’re the one that knows the most about the Potter World, and about them ! And also, because whenever they tried to do the “official potter more” test, it ended up in them fighting because they kept disagreeing on what they “should” answer and such...So their only option to be sure was...you.

You sigh and shake your head, as they keep on staring at you, patiently waiting. Alright. You could do this. Your voice captivates them instantly :

-Well, I’m going to start with the most obvious one...Tim, you’re definitely Ravenclaw. There’s no doubt about this. Not a single one.

Tim stands up, and very solemnly goes to one of the Ravenclaw robe Alfred bought that afternoon (yes, they made Alfred go in town to buy six robes of each houses in the Potter store in Downtown Gotham, and the matching sweaters and tie of course...this was all very serious business ! You felt so bad about this that you went with him and...might have bought a few other goodies just for good measure). With a satisfied smile (he always knew he was a Ravenclaw), he goes back to sit. You continue :

-Now, all of you are a bit tough, as you could all fit in more than one house but...I think I got it figured out. Dick, I hesitated between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff but I think...Yes, you’re a Hufflepuff.

Ignoring his brothers snickering at the fact that he’s in the “useless” house, Dick stands to go grab his robe and dramatically turns around to say :

-May I remind you all that Cedric Diggory was a Hufflepuff, as well as...Tonks ! Who’s one of the coolest character so shush. Also, J.K Rowling said she wished she was a Hufflepuff, and we’re the only house, in the books, where ALL OF THE STUDENTS decided to stay for the final battle so...zip it. Hufflepuff is awesome.

Before any of your boys could say anything and argue with Dick’s point, you raise your hand in a very McGonagall kind of way to shut them up, and you keep going :

-Jason, I also hesitated but I’m pretty sure you’re a Gryffindor.

Your son stands and goes to take his robe. He doesn’t say anything, but only because you know he’s about to be all smug and talk about how Gryffindor is the best house (after all they got Dumbledore, Harry, Sirius etc etc...), therefor starting a “war of the houses” kind of thing, and you don’t let him say anything as you keep going, pushing him toward the couch so he goes back and sit down in silent. He grumbles a bit, but does it nonetheless :

-Damian, I think I’m safe by assuming you’re Slytherin. I’m just going to add that, by the way, every wizard that were in that house weren’t bad people. On the contrary, it’s only a handful who gave them the bad reputation. Slytherins are cunning, ambitious, and would do anything for their friends...Like you my boy. Also, Merlin was a Slytherin.

Damian, who at first was a bit taken aback that you’d think he was a Slytherin (...he wasn’t a bad boy was he ? He tried so hard not to be) stood up after your little speech and, excited, when to get his robe, yelling a “cool !” before going back to sit. Dick, as a good ol’ Hufflepuff, ruffles his hair lovingly and winks at him (of course you’re not a bad kid...though the Slytherin thing definitely fits your little pretentious you haha !). Alfred smiles and...it brings you to your next person to sort out :

-Now Alfred, I also hesitated. Because it’s clear you have all the quality to be in both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. However...I believe you’re also a Hufflepuff.

Dick stood up and went to grab a robe for the butler, a wide grin on his face. At least he wasn’t alone, and though Alfred acted like he didn’t care, he actually loved Harry Potter too and would defend his house to the death (or maybe not, but like...he would defend it using all his British sarcasm). You smile as Dick and Alfred proudly put on their Hufflepuff robes, and at Damian pouty face (he wanted Alfred to be with him) and finally turns to your husband :

-You’re the most difficult one to sort my heart. So I thought I’d ask the boys to choose for me, as I just can’t decide if you’re a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw !

-SLYTHERIN !

-RAVENCLAW !

Tim and Damian both yelled at the same time, clearly determined to have their father in their house, and you wince in advance at the fight that is about to happen. Damian starts :

-Obviously he’s a Slytherin, after all I must take after someone you know ! Also the cunning and ambitious part ? The will to do things ? I’m sorry he’s Batman, he got an incredible will to do all the things he does so like, hellow, Slytherin!

-Uh uh ! Ravenclaws too have will, will to learn and to get better, and excuse me but we call him “the greatest detective” which just reeks Ravenclaw all over it !! And...

You know it’s going to be an endless fight. After all, there was a reason why you just couldn’t choose wether your husband was a Raven or a Snake. He had qualities to be both. Hell he could even be a Gryffindor ! But mainly, Ravenclaw and Slytherin were tight, and you were hoping your sons could help but...well, it was just a bad idea.

Of course Damian and Tim would fight about this. Endless fight...Or so you thought.

Your husband calm voice raises slowly and instantly your sons stop talking :

-I mean, to be honest, I don’t know either in which house I would be. When I tried the Pottermore test, the website crashed. I tried four times, crashed every time. So maybe it’s a sign that...I should be both Ravenclaw and Slytherin ? If even the sorting hat - he pointed at you and you couldn’t help but laugh a little - doesn’t know, then who can ? Maybe I’m just a...Ravenrin...A Slytherclaw. Here we go. Maybe I’m a Slytherclaw. Because I’m special.

This makes your entire family laugh and...To be honest that’s actually not a bad idea. None of them could honestly say that they knew in which house he would fit better, Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Even Damian and Tim had to admit they didn’t know so...Slytherclaw it was. After all, and though none of you would ever admit it, he was quite special. Special enough to have his own house.

Well. Here it was. Everyone was sorted and it went pretty smoothly without much fights. You were about to say that the ceremony was over when Jason asks :

-What about you mom ? What’s your house ?

You turn to him and, with a knowing smile you say :

-Well I’m a (your Hogwarts house), obviously.

Now that they were thinking of it, this choice of house was indeed obvious for you...

************

They think you didn’t notice, but you did.

They think they’re being so damn sneaky, but they’re not.

And so this is why today, you called them all in the living room, a severe expression on your face.

-I know what’s happening. I know what you’re doing. Now, I’m not going to pretend I don’t like it, because if I’m being honest, I absolutely love the idea but Hell if I don’t stop you all right now, before you actually hurt each others, and set some ground rules !

Your sons look at each others for a little bit, sitting on the living room couch, and they don’t even wonder how the hell you came to know what was happening...After all, you were their mother, you noticed everything.

Their father and Alfred were there too, standing next to her, an amused expression on their faces. You continue :

-So first, this...Alfred could you show them please ? Thank you. This, is the official cups where we’ll gather the points ! Bruce honey, could you please ?

Alfred uncovers something that was hidden under a drape on the coffee table...Tubes. Four of them. One with a raven, one with a lion, one with a snake and one with a badger. They could tell you painted them yourself and they were quite impressed really...The tubes almost looked like what J.K Rowling described in her books, talking about how everyone knew how many points each house had.

Your husband set, right next to the tubes, a few glass filled with different colored marbles (red, blue, green and yellow), and your son suddenly understand. Their suspicion is confirmed when you say :

-I know you guys have been fighting about which house is the best, as you’re each from one...Who beat the most bad guys, who has the best grades, blahblahblah. Now, I’m making it official, and here are the rules : as you guys know, some of my favorite HP characters are the Weasley twins, R.I.P Fred.

You give a minute of silent for the fallen twin before you keep going :

-Here’s the thing, when you guys define how good your house is by who gets to beat the most asses, you put yourself in danger, because you actually want to beat more asses than your brothers, and then you stop thinking, and you could get hurt, and I can’t have that...So, to make this little “war of the house” official, and I’m just going to throw this out there that I never wanted this to go this far but of course with four competitive kids it would, I’m changing the rules. It’s not who’s the best fighter or anything anymore...Which brings me back to the Weasly twins, R.I.P Fred.

You take another silent minute, and Alfred and Bruce find it more and more difficult to not burst out laughing at your antics. You make everything sounds so dramatic and serious, and your sons are so into it ! You wink at your husband and surrogate father, smiling widely at them, before you finally get to your point :

-In honor of Fred, here’s the rule of our very own house cup : you can win points by...pranking your brothers ! As long as no serious harm is made to any of you. Also, no mocking or public shaming. Pranks are to happen only within the walls of our very own Hogwarts, Wayne Manor. Each time one of you have been successfully prank, the one who pranked them will come to me and I will decide how much points, or marbles here, they won. The first tube to be filled is the winner of the house cup.

Dick asks :

-How will you decide how many poi...marbles to give for each prank ?

-Completely arbitrary my dear. It depends how much I like the prank really.

A small silence falls on the living room, and you can almost feel the excitement radiating from your sons. Yup, this is definitely going to be fun.

As you make sure once more that they understood the rules (especially the one about not hurting each others, ONLY SMALL HARMLESS YET FUNNY PRANKS), you let them go on and about to start their little war, and turn to your Husband and Alfred. The butler, rolling his eyes, says in an irritated voice (although the spark of amusement in his eyes tells another story) :

-You’ll be the one cleaning the mess, Lady (Y/N).

-Oh no, they will.

Alfred can’t help but smiles, and leave to continue with his duties. Bruce catches you in his arms and brings you close, brushing his lips against yours he says :

-You’re absolutely fantastic.

You wink at him, and it drives him wild...

************

The first prank was from Dick and you had to admit, that kid was inventive.

Early in the morning, a few hours after everyone came back home from the night patrol, you heard a screeching scream coming from the end of the corridor. Bruce and you stood up on the instant, ready to fight whatever was attacking your son (you recognized Damian’s voice), and ran to the noise...only to be faced with a Damian, sitting on the floor, his hand on his heart, and looking utterly pissed.

-I ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK GRAYSON !!

Dick was laughing, and you were confused...all you could see was a balloon filled with Helium flying on the bathroom’s ceiling. It’s only when your boy explained what happened that you started to laugh too.

Dick had hid a balloon filled with helium under the toilet’s lid, hoping one of his brothers would come to pee during the night (or early morning), and would be scared by the balloon suddenly popping out of there...and it was a total success. You gave him three marbles for that one, and an extra one because he drew a terrifying smiley face on the balloon.

************

The little pranks that drove them crazy were your favorite.

You gave two marbles to Ravenclaw (Tim) when he rearranged every drawers in Jason’s room. He changed all of them, and for days, Jason kept getting mad that nothing was where it should be, until he finally understood the subterfuge...

You gave one marble to Slytherin (Damian) when he duck taped harmonicas to Dick’s motorcycle’s exhaust pipe. Dick drove around wondering what the hell was that sound for a while...

You gave four marbles to Gryffindor (Jason) when he put Orajel in the bristles of his brothers’ toothbrushes. They didn’t notice anything until their mouth was completely numbed, and weren’t able to talk properly for hours, which made you, Bruce, Alfred and Jason laugh like crazy.

You gave two marbles to Slytherin when Damian replaced every single names in Tim’s phone contact with “John Cena”, and changed his ringtone to the famous meme song.

This gave an idea to Dick that earned him two marbles as well. He told all his brothers that he changed their contact names, that he swapped them around and...didn’t actually do it. Jason, Tim and Damian were suspicious about any texts or calls they received for days, before Dick thought it was time to tell them, and oh god it was glorious.

Slytherin won three marbles when Damian made a sticker that said “voice activated” and put it on the brand new coffee machine. The sign was well made, he even added the logo of the coffee machine on it, it looked very real...You laughed way too much, witnessing everyone (but Alfred and Dams) talking to the coffee machine until they realized it was yet another prank.

Tim got one marble for unscrewing the shower head of his brothers’ bathrooms, putting chicken broth cube in it, screwed the shower head back and...”I just took a shower but I feel all sticky and I smell like chicken broth...”

Damian got two marbles for putting glitters in all of his brothers’ pants. Your sons were sparkly for weeks, as glitter gets everywhere and takes forever to go...such a good prank.

It took a week for Damian, Tim and Jason to realize that Dick had changed every single picture in their bedroom with pictures of himself laughing as if he was a character in a sitcom...This earned him 2 marbles.

You gave two marbles to Tim when he re-laced their shoes from the tongue down, with the aglets at the bottom. Simple, but efficient and hilarious. He also earned four more marbles for the effort, when he put all of his brothers’ stuffs in their build in closets in their bedroom, and screwed the doors shut. Ooooh yes it was funny.

You felt awful, the day Jason pranked Dick at dinner time.

You saw things happening. You saw Jason took the hot sauce and vodka. You saw it all but...you were too curious.

Besides, he was about to prank Dick, who was old enough for alcohol (and hated it).

You kept it cool while you saw Damian distract Dick (oh so he was in on it...Gryffindor and Slytherin teaming up, a first !) and Jason almost emptied the bottle of hot sauce in Dick’s plate.

A few seconds later, and as you couldn’t hold your laughter in anymore, Dick was turning red and screaming for some water...he should have been more careful when he saw Jason giving a glass to him...

-THAT IS VODKA YOU IDIOT !

Dick yelled as he spat the entire thing on the floor, and rushing to the fridge to get some milk and soothe this damn burn.

By then, the prank war was going on for so long that you all started to laugh like crazy once you realized what was happening.

This earned seven marbles for Jason, and two for Damian who helped.

************

All throughout this prank war, this little personalized house cup, you, Bruce and Alfred (who weren’t playing, taking part in the cup for obvious reason, as one of your boys would be disadvantaged because there was only three of you and four of them) took bets as to who would win...Little did you guys know that, none of you were right.

************

As you were about to give each of them two marbles for their pranks of the day, you realized that...but that couldn’t be possible could it ?

And yet...You called all of them to the living room and they ran to you, knowing why you were calling them.

They held their breath as you slowly put the last marbles of the Wayne House Cup into the tubes and...What ? No. No that couldn’t be the end of it, could it ?

-Well, boys, seems like the winner of the house cup is...ALL OF YOU ! PERFECT EQUALITY ! Wow I’m actually impressed. Good job guys. But I guess we’ll never know which house is the best...

There was a short silence, as Alfred and Bruce, who came at the same time than them in the living room, were laughing because of the boys’ faces. Their facial expression was a mix of shock and “wtf”, and the most hilarious thing ever. Finally, finally they reacted, and as one said :

-ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME ?!

The fit of laughter that took over you, your husband and Alfred was endless.

Fin.

_____________________

...Eh :/. This was so (too) long. Sorry. The pranks weren’t really great either, I’m not good at finding those and uuuuuuuuuuuuh. MEH EH MEH.

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