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stargirlfics · 5 months

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The Gentleman Chapter Six: Tremble

Alfred Pennyworth x Black Dancer!Reader

Summary: Scarecrow threatens to bring Gotham to its knees while you and those you love find yourself caught in the middle

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, canon typical violence, mentions of chemical weapons, anxiety and hallucinations, mild angst and hurt/comfort, competency kink, alfred being a soft dom, smut: soft spanking tw, body worship, oral (reader receiving)

Word Count: 12.0k

This chapter is finally here and I actually cannot believe the journey it has been from when I started working on this, having months of difficulty writing and then I just write this massive chapter! I’m really happy to be sharing it and I hope it’s well worth the wait. I really appreciate and cherish all your comments and love and patience especially on this series, it means so much 🤎

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At the mercy of impending catastrophe, an entire city was holding its breath in sick anticipation.

News of Scarecrow and his fear toxin was everywhere one went, anxiety climbing with every hushed discussion and passing day without answers.

His motives were still unclear and everyone was trying to decipher the severity of the message he had left: This is Gotham’s only warning. Fear the Scarecrow.

What was to come next? And would you be ready?

Trust in Gotham’s institutions was few and far between for most, though you did feel a little more hopeful with Mayor Bella Reál’s steady presence in public lately—even still, people were bracing themselves.

For you that meant dance rehearsals were still being held so stage time was abundant, the exotic performances and the allure of the Iceberg Lounge were quickly becoming a good means of escape for many in the city.

You wanted to dazzle the audience, satisfied when you could suspend their belief that this was just a dance and convince them nymphs and sirens were real and alive in front of them instead.

It was easy to throw yourself into the work if you thought about it; counting steps and turns while the band played their hearts out.

There was no other competition, the shimmer and sparkle of the costumes, the lingerie underneath even more dazzling, opal pearls and diamonds adorning your lush bodies caught every single eye.

Five, six, seven…a spotlight shines down upon you, such a pretty beacon of desire, of the passion flowering so strongly in your own heart until there’s nothing but you and the music.

You left nothing on that stage at the end of the night.

Especially not when Alfred was in the crowd watching you with an ever growing adoration.

He made the effort to catch a show when he could, waiting with roses for you afterwards and no compliment or praise spared from your ears if he could help it.

It was amazing how much things could shift, how nervous you had been the first time you knew he would be watching and now you welcomed it, relished in his promise to show up for you simply because he thought your talent and love for your artform was worth it, that you were worth it.

And of course how could you forget his handwritten letter with such neat and elegantly written words, the very letter that sat on your nightstand since your date in the bookstore when he presented it to you and made it all official.

You read over it in the late night hours and in the morning when you woke up wishing he was next to you, until you could recite every word he had written by heart. Weeks ago you would have felt anxious about entering a relationship, not wanting to go through heartbreak if your feelings weren’t the same but now you understood Alfred would never let you stand on unsteady ground.

He hadn’t since the first moment your paths collided, the memory of it still so vivid you could practically hear the echo of your pounding footsteps on the concrete hurrying to reach him, taking a chance on a stranger and embracing him out of fear only to come away from it with your pulse racing for an entirely different reason instead.

Something solid and gentle had formed here and you wanted to be cocooned inside of it forever.

Your friends definitely didn’t hide their excitement that you were “basically dating a member of the Wayne family!” as Roxie had put it.

She was the first to tell you she wouldn’t mind at all if you slipped Bruce her number. Bambi was already ride or die for the relationship, as was Amber and then Kiera’s encouragement of all things romance on top of it all certainly made this a fanclub if you’d ever seen one.

Truthfully though their reassurances kept you from letting the tendency to overthink get in the way, making sure you knew that the way Alfred treated you was everything you deserved.

Grateful felt like too simple a word but it’s perhaps the best word to summarize the way you felt about each of them. Elated in how they celebrated this with you, a sing-song chorus of excitement when you told them about his letter in the chat or how everything went after he spent the night at your place for the first time.

It kept you hopeful, appreciating everything you had just a little extra.

Fresh snow dusted the windowsills of The Magpie where you were counting down the time until you’d have your evening free to spend with Alfred.

You would see him in just a few short minutes anyways, with Bruce in tow for a meeting with the mayor and her team but knowing you’d still have some time before you truly got him to yourself left you feeling a little antsy.

The bar had already been wiped down twice and you just checked on the handful of people sitting around for brunch, most of them talking and finishing off their drinks for the time being.

So you settled on people-watching, polishing the crystal whiskey glasses while you did, arranging them in a stacked pyramid and you were almost done with the menial task when Bruce Wayne sidled up to the bar.

“Oh, hey! Can I get you anything, Mr. Wayne?” you greeted him with a smile, doing your best not to make it obvious you were also looking to see if Alfred was nearby.

“Please just call me Bruce, you don’t have to keep it so formal, really I insist. And just coffee if you can.”

“Sorry, habit. I can get you some coffee, any sugar or cream?” you were laughing to yourself a little, forgetting that you didn’t have to address him so properly every time.

You still did that with Alfred sometimes, a ‘Mr. Pennyworth’ at the tip of your tongue on occasion which always came with a playful scolding.

“No thanks, I’ll take it as is,” Bruce corrected, thanking you again when you set the steaming mug down in front of him. “Oh, before I forget. He may have told you this already but when time allows it Alfred likes to try and get Dory and I together for a proper Sunday dinner and if you’re able to this coming weekend, I wanted to try and surprise him.”

Oh, how thoughtful! Quickly realizing he was inviting you to join them in this tradition of theirs made your heart swell and you hastened to accept.

“That sounds so nice! Of course I can be there. Should I bring anything, dessert maybe?”

“Yes, that would be perfect actually. It’ll be nice to have you there..uh, I know we haven’t had much time to speak but thank you, it’s good to see him happy lately and that’s because of you.”

Bruce’s usual shy, reserved tone was more open, a little softer and you felt relief knowing that you had his approval in a way, maybe not wanting to admit to yourself that it had been a quiet worry all this time.

His and Alfred’s relationship was on better working ground now and you didn’t want to complicate that or make it any more difficult for them to connect in the way they needed and it was very clear from the start that they did need each other and cared for one another fiercely.

This was good, really good.

“I’m glad and that’s okay by the way there’s been a lot going on you’re probably just as busy as he is, if not more, I figured we’d get to talk at some point. I really do just want to make him happy and I hope you know he is because of you too, he’s so proud of you.”

Your last few words saw the very rare edge of a smile before he took a sip from the mug, face turning stoic again.

Speaking of Alfred, he walked in the very next moment, as effortlessly handsome as usual. His suit was a crisp charcoal gray, a black tie tucked perfectly into that pristine waistcoat you knew felt smooth under your hands, the familiar gold accents of his wristwatch and cane pulling it all together.

He always looked incredible but god did he have you weak from halfway across the room today, those kind, blue eyes finding you with ease.

Waving him over to the bar, you started making his usual cup of Earl Grey, sharing a sheepish smile when you greeted each other.

“Good to see you, darling. I hope you’ve had an easy morning.” The depth and lull of his voice and that accent sent warmth spreading across your cheeks, distracted from hearing the affection in his tone.

“I have, thank you,” setting his cup of tea down on the bar counter, you leave the milk out for him to pour how he likes, “Hope the meeting goes well, you’re gonna kill it!”

“That’s very nice of you. I imagine it will, what we’re proposing will benefit the city and they seem receptive to Bruce’s ideas, which is all we can ask for.”

Beaming at him you nodded encouragingly, giving yourself a few more moments to talk with the two men before the mayor arrived and they were whisked off to a more private table.

Kiera came in not long after that, you were really just working the morning to fill in for her until she could get here but your plans to leave with Alfred right after his meeting lined up with the timing anyways.

An hour passed ever so slowly, the meeting finally finishing with what looked like good spirits from everyone and before long you were saying your goodbye’s to Bruce since he had to head out while Alfred lagged behind to take a phone call from his office.

Bundled up in your coat, you waited by the hostess stand content to watch the snow flurries begin to fall outside, such a stark contrast to the warm, crimson interior.

Not sure how long you were lost admiring the view, a warm hand slides across your lower back drawing your attention in a gentle caress you’re sure you’d know anywhere.

“Ready to leave?” Alfred held his hand out for you and kissed your knuckles when you fit your palm against his.

The eager nod of your head and the accompanying excited giggle gave you away but you didn’t care to hide how much you’d been looking forward to this evening with him.

“Ready.”

Outside the air was chilly, coats zipped up a little higher while you discussed what the plans were for the rest of the day.

It was still fairly quiet out on the streets, the business sector in this part of the city always a bit more empty than the bustling traffic of downtown that you were used to, at least before dinner rush anyway.

Nothing out of the ordinary piqued your attention until Alfred was pausing mid-sentence, asking if you heard what he had heard.

“No, what-” but no sooner than you had opened your mouth, the faintest recognition of what sounded like a scream could be heard. You flicked your eyes up to him in concern.

Had it really been a scream? Or was the frigid wind playing tricks on you, whistling through the air?

The same sound rang out again somewhere in the distance, only this time you both were able to hear a distinct shout of “HELP!” following it.

The mood had suddenly turned urgent but it was as if you could only move in slow motion until you realized that at this very moment, the other shoe had indeed dropped.

Chaos was the only way to describe it, more shouts piercing the air but nothing prepared you for the wave of people running out into the street in every direction.

You can’t be sure exactly what’s going on or what everyone was running from but the gears were already spinning in your mind and you don’t hesitate to move when Alfred hurriedly nudged you to follow him, clutching onto his jacket as he guided you to cross the street where his car was parked around the corner.

But you wouldn’t make it more than a few steps off the curb.

The flow of the crowd was too dense, too panicked and you were jostled as you tried to keep your feet steady on slick, snowy pavement.

A gasp was knocked loose from your throat when someone shoved past you, upsetting your balance in the process, the impact forcing you to let go of Alfred’s hand.

Fingers flailed but it was no use, you couldn’t move fast enough and soon more people pushed themselves between you on all sides which meant he couldn’t reach you either. You were quickly losing sight of him, legs feeling like lead as you tried to follow the sound of his voice shouting your name but there’s too much noise to filter out.

No, no! Where is he? I can’t see him anymore.

Your heart sank realizing you’d lost him in the crowd, even as frantically as you were searching for him there were so many people dashing past as you also tried to keep moving that you knew it would be impossible to find him like this.

You were separated and on your own.

Now it felt like your sense of direction was off, not sure if you were still headed in the right direction towards his car anymore, the whole world feeling like it was swallowing you up.

Deep breaths, just take a deep breath. Keep moving.

You had to repeat it to yourself in order to stay calm, trying to reassure yourself that somehow you could make it out of whatever this was but a pang of worry for Alfred made you feel nauseous.

Unwelcome thoughts of something happening to him threatened to take root amidst your struggle to think. Hands moving on their own volition, you reached into your bag to fumble for your phone; maybe you could could get a hold of him by calling, sending a text, could find where he was and try and make your way to him in the event you ended up making it to the car and he wasn’t there.

Seconds later, up ahead of you, a truck swerved to avoid a group of people rushing into the intersection which sent everyone scrambling to move aside, inadvertently knocking you off balance again.

Stinging pain prickled in the meat of your shins, rattling all the way up to your temple when you collided with the cold concrete, eyes going wide knowing it wasn’t safe to be on the ground like this.

But it didn’t matter because had you not been knocked to the ground you weren’t sure you would have noticed it: the shiny silver canister nestled in a pile of snow not six feet away.

Something didn’t feel right about this. It felt like you were being herded to this point.

Under the noise of so many footsteps and all the commotion you heard it click, a slow whistling hiss coming after. The sound grew louder but you were already scrambling backwards trying to put distance between you and the cloudy plume of gas extinguishing from the cylinder.

This had to be the fear toxin, this had to be him.

Fresh screams dotted the blood rushing to your brain through your ears, dread forming a hard lump in your throat as you watched the gas diffuse again and mix with the falling snow.

Loosening your scarf you folded it over your nose and mouth hoping it would buy you some time if you weren’t breathing as much of it in, you couldn’t be sure you hadn’t already.

Your heart was hammering in your ribs when you finally found your footing and could stand, ignoring the strain in your muscles or how your skin felt raw from where your tights had snagged and torn from crawling on the pavement.

Now that you were on your feet again your surroundings were more familiar.

It’s how you spotted the mouth of an alleyway to your right, knowing exactly where it would lead, recognizing the rust red fire escape peeking out from the side of the building. You hadn’t realized you traveled back this far but you’d take it, at least you’d be off the street this way.

The disadvantage of this was that you were working against the flow of bodies but you tried to keep your stance wide and square out your shoulders so you couldn’t be pushed quite as easily, and there was something else…a noticeable difference in how people were acting.

It wasn’t just panic in their eyes, pupils glazed over and blown wide, this was an erratic look of fright. This toxin was confirmed to cause hallucinations which could only mean there had to be dozen’s on this street alone who’d come in contact with it.

You could only imagine what awful things they were seeing, your voice ricocheting against the clamor of sounds trying to warn whoever you could.

Just then, the quickest flash of gold appears in your peripheral and you hear your name again turning in time to see him, Alfred, shouldering his way through the crowd.

You stared in awe, questioning for a split second if you were starting to see things too but he was really there fighting and pushing his way through the packed street to get to you.

The small relief when he reached you, both of his arms locking around you this time before ushering you the rest of the way. Slipping into the alleyway was easy after that.

“Are you hurt? Darling, look at me please! Are you hurt?” His voice is chalked with concern, a clipped edge to his tone that echoed against the brick wall you had slumped against to catch your breath.

He’s already looking you up and down in careful assessment.

“I’m fine! I’m okay..I think, but wait, Alfred! This was intentional, the gas it-” the words come tumbling out but you fall short at the nod he gave you. Of course he had pieced it together. You’re gulping before noticing his cane is missing. “What about you? I was so worried when we-” the words died in your throat for a second time remembering how you got separated in the crowd.

You didn’t trust yourself not to cry.

“Me too, sweet girl but I am alright. I was far more worried about you.” and it’s the tenderness in his voice that makes you sniffle.

Screaming cuts through the brief moment of rest and you both agree you need to get out of here, deciding to stay off the main streets. If you could cut through a few alleyways you’d be able to get to his car.

His hand is once again steady in yours, thumb passing over your skin trying to soothe you while your own fingers return pressure here and there, beyond relieved to be next to him again even with a million more worries arising.

The damage had already been done though, time beginning to move slowly, buildings looming high above feeling suffocating, as if maybe you’d never find your way out, every muffled cry or scream from the streets a terrible chorus.

A loud squeal and the creaking of metal a few feet ahead halted your steps again, Alfred’s arm thrown back to push you behind him.

Four men filed out of a side door, the hoods of their jackets pulled up so they were shrouded in shadows, both of you just barely avoiding being seen.

Alfred had hastened to backtrack and slip behind an empty delivery truck in the alley that provided some cover without close inspection but was still too close for any sort of comfort.

Everything in you went quiet and still, clammy fingers gripping Alfred’s bicep a little tighter, grateful you were wedged between the side of the truck and his body. You don’t want to look their way again but your anxiety rises at the thought of not knowing how far away they were so you risk a peek over his shoulder.

Your blood goes cold almost instantly, breath sucked from your lungs when a fifth man stepped forth.

Dead eyes pierced through a ripped burlap hood covering the man’s head, its crooked stitching reminding you of an old scarecrow only the rest of him was clad in a suit. All you felt was dread.

“Keep your eyes peeled.” a distorted command came from behind the decrepit hood.

There was something terrifying about the way this man moved, it was creepy and sinister, your suspicions confirmed when you spotted more of those silver canisters peeking out from his suit jacket just before he was slinking away, moving out onto the street ahead flanked by those four men, each with a weapon in hand.

Tentative relief came seeing the distance increase between your position and theirs but you weren’t out of the woods yet by any means with one more street to go.

Counting shallow breaths one by one, you waited until the crunch of their footsteps on the snow faded enough to move ahead safely.

Alfred squeezed your fingers to get your attention, motioning for you to follow him from out behind the truck carefully. It was best not to stay idle here too long.

In the midst of trying to process what just occurred you didn’t notice Alfred pull out a small blade until you saw it clenched in his left hand, noting the way he kept it tucked in towards his palm so that outwardly no one could see it was there.

His other hand gripped your arm, keeping you from being able to move from behind his back as you crept forward together, a defensiveness in his movements that made it seem like this was just muscle memory for him.

Here he was, protecting you, keeping you calm this whole time and though it wasn’t surprising anymore you were still a little struck by just how much he cared for you, your wellbeing. It bled through into every part of him and that had your heart clenching.

When you finally made it out of the alley fresh worry spiked like ice inside your chest, attention drawn to every direction trying to make sure nothing would catch either of you off guard now that you were no longer under the cover of the city’s alleyways but at last, after what felt like an eternity, you had arrived.

Unlocking the car and seeing to it that you were safely tucked inside, Alfred was skillfully weaving the sleek vehicle through the streets in no time.

—

Everything felt like it was turned upside down.

Sirens and police cars whizzed past, headed in the direction you’d just left behind and you could only watch as the weather turned dreary.

Alfred checked in every so often, comforting you with reassuring glances, a soft squeeze to your knee which you returned with a weak smile. You were sure he had noticed you shivering as well and felt appreciative of the warm air circulating through the vents.

Remembering your phone after a moment you fished it out of your bag, replying to a string of texts from Kiera who was worried sick and thankfully still safe inside where you last saw her.

Scrolling through the rest of your messages and missed phone calls that kept pinging in your notifications you let each of them know you were safe until it hit you that something was missing, a sudden gasp catching Alfred’s attention.

“Do-do you think Bruce is okay? He left a few minutes before us. Maybe he managed to miss all that.”

“I’m sure he made it through, but he’s not been answering his phone. We’ll be at the Tower soon and we can check.”

It sounds hopeful but the crease of worry between his brows makes you wonder.

Trying to cling to the more hopeful outcome, you attempt to keep bad thoughts at bay with the idea that you’d see that swath of dark hair emerging from the staircase as soon as you step into the foyer. He just had to be there.

The rest of the drive was fairly quiet but the noise in your head made up for it.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d seen—Scarecrow. How close you’d gotten to the fear toxin but so luckily managed to avoid it, a sick feeling in your stomach seeing what it did to the people around you.

Whatever his big plans were for the people of Gotham, you were sure they were horrifying.

Anxiety drips from your shoulders when the car finally comes to a stop, limbs heavy again as you soar up to the penthouse floors from the parking garage elevator and it’s only when the low hum of the lift stops that you let go of Alfred’s hand, the doors opening to a suspended silence.

It only took a few minutes and a quick search to see that it was evident Bruce wasn’t here.

Your stomach was twisted into knots again waiting patiently while Alfred tried his cell phone one more time. Each trilling of the dial tone felt longer than the last and your heart sank once it went to voicemail.

“If he has his location on, I’m sure I’ll be able to find him.” He takes a deep breath, pacing the floor trying to think, to come up with answers.

Wringing your hands wasn’t doing much to ease the tension in your body so you forced yourself to lean against the solid wood table of the main room.

Touching something solid seemed to help and you wanted to be helpful to Alfred right now, at the very least supportive in the effort to find Bruce, hoping anxiety wouldn’t take over everything.

Mentally you were running through a list of possible places near the incident that he could be, fingers flying to your phone to search news updates, find out if Bruce’s name had been mentioned anywhere.

“Christ, I’ve found him! His phone is at the GCPD building. He can’t have been there for very long yet.”

“Okay, that’s good. He’s probably okay then if he’s there of all places, right?” your question is tinged with a cautious optimism as is Alfred’s responding agreement but you still feel unsure.

“I’m going to head there regardless, surely he’s fine but I don’t want to take any chances. I wish he would answer his bloody phone, though.”

He sounded like such a dad in that moment you might have laughed if the circumstances were different.

“Maybe he’s there with the mayor too, they walked out together before us, it was probably the first place he would think to go especially if they saw something related to what we saw.” you offer a little reassurance and reach out to squeeze his shoulder.

“Smart girl. I’m sure you are right.” Alfred sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Fngers pinching the bridge of his nose before he slips his glasses from his breast pocket and puts them on, focused in on what needed to be done once again, typing out a few messages to Bruce in the meantime.

“I can come with you, just in case he’s in trouble or, or.” you don’t want to go any further with possibilities and you aren’t sure how to articulate your uneasiness at him going back out there on his own even if he could handle himself.

It upset you to think you wouldn’t be there, wouldn’t know if something else were to happen.

“Oh my love, I appreciate that. You’ve been so brave through all this and I do want you with me but more importantly I need you safe and staying here will ensure that. I don’t want you in harm's way.” he’s setting down his phone to cup your cheeks, moving in close so his nose brushes yours gently.

You want to protest but understand that he’s right, the lump in your throat returning as you look at him.

He was being strong, for you, keeping it together just to make sure you weren’t any more frightened than you needed to be but you could see the stress in his features and knew you needed to be strong for him too.

“I don’t like it but I understand,” you relented with a whisper, leaning into him a little more, unconsciously trying to hold on. “I’ll stay here but just please be careful okay?”

Alfred moved back a bit so you’d look him in the eyes, a determination in them that takes away some unsettled nerves.

“I promise I will be. I’ll keep in touch as well, as soon as I find out anything you’ll get a call.” His soft murmur came in between the gentle press of his lips against your forehead.

His kisses were effective in calming you even if it didn’t help the reluctance to part from him, you know he has to go and don’t want to delay him any longer.

A new wave of emotion crests at the way he fusses over you before departing; making sure you were okay to be here alone for a bit, reminding you to eat something soon and that there was a change of clothes still in his room if you wanted to shower and take off your torn tights and snow dampened sweater.

The anxious shake of your hands was better even as you kissed him goodbye, returning his thoughtfulness by making sure he had a pair of gloves and another cane from his collection in hand before hurrying off, your feet lingering for a moment longer after the elevator doors close behind him.

Now…the waiting began.

—

Barely twenty minutes have gone by but you’re restless and there’s a sharp tension in your shoulders all the way down to your hamstrings that won’t ease up even when you try to relax.

Wayne Tower was quiet and far too empty, the methodic tick of the old grandfather clock in the foyer and your footsteps all the sound she’d bestow.

Sitting still has proved to be impossible so you wander the halls, count the steps each staircase you go up, try to roll out the stiffness in your neck little by little.

It’s only afternoon but the skies are gray and dark, some heavy kind of shadow cast over every corner that could be touched and there wasn’t a single thing you could do about it but have patience.

News updates are slow meaning no one knows anything concrete yet, just that nearby hospitals were starting to get an influx of people affected by the fear toxin and police were all over the scene of the incident and surrounding areas. You’re just glad it seemed to be isolated to the few blocks you had navigated around earlier, nothing else occurring elsewhere in the city.

That certainly didn’t mean these incidents weren’t going to spread, you were fully prepared to hear of more fear toxin attacks in the near future with so much mystery still surrounding Scarecrow.

This whole thing felt deeper than what you could see at the surface but all you could come up with were questions and more questions.

But there’s no use in giving yourself a headache, not now at least, your phone ringing abruptly and Alfred’s name illuminating the screen. You’re answering before the second ring, taking a deep breath the moment he tells you everything is alright.

Bruce was indeed at GCPD headquarters when Alfred got there and the pair were in the process of giving statements about what they saw related to the attack so it was looking like they were going to be there for a while yet.

You don’t get to speak to Alfred for long before you hear him being summoned and you’re wrapping things up, wishing him well before he leaves you with a promise that he’ll update you as things go.

Your body felt much lighter now that you knew they were safe, the tightness in your chest dissipating as you finally allowed yourself to unwind a little.

Stomach still too tense to try and eat anything yet, you opt to take a shower instead, the change of clothes and the hot steam of the water would do you good.

Finding the familiar path to Alfred’s bedroom was easy, his space inviting, kept as tidy as ever but you still see all of him in it.

The faded bookmark sticking out of the novel on his bedside table, his nighttime reading glasses that lay folded on a stack of books to the left, and the tie and cufflinks atop his dresser still there from when he was getting ready this morning you imagined.

You’re comforted knowing you’re surrounded by his things and you’re further softened seeing your clothing items amongst his from when you stayed the night for the first time, everything neatly folded in the way you’ve learned he liked to fold.

Thoughts of him lingered as you retreated into the warmth of the shower, adrenaline slowly leached from your body, swirling down the drain with the soapy water.

You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from the last hour and a half until your eyes started to feel heavy but you don’t want to get out just yet.

It feels safe here and you’re already too far gone indulging in daydreams of your boyfriend, the thrill of being able to call him that now—the same one who practically bouldered his way through a crowd of people to reach you.

In the moment there hadn’t been time to really think about it but now that you were alone with your thoughts, it’s all you could replay.

Or maybe it’s all you wanted to think about but either way you wanted to drown in whatever strength and steadfast skill Alfred possessed, heart fluttering thinking of how every movement was intentional, the way his entire body pivoted to shield you, keep you safe as you moved through the streets, the switchblade he so effortlessly and quietly had ready and the expert flourish of his wrist when he pocketed it in the car.

Yes you knew he had been a soldier, had seen combat and was skilled in more areas than you could count, you could only imagine all the technical and psychological training he had from his days as an intelligence agent and though you took those parts of him seriously, you also couldn’t help but find it all deeply attractive.

Where words could not be applied, he showed you.

Refreshed and in more comfortable clothes, your mind felt a little clearer even if having to wait was still difficult but you try and be patient for another update, checking in with your friends in the meantime.

Alfred’s bedroom was warm from the steam still escaping from the connecting bathroom and you felt far too cozy here to venture back downstairs so you climb into the large bed and curl up on his side, comforted by the fact that his pillows smell like him.

No longer restless from the quiet aura in the air, fatigue rolled in, the energy to worry had faded quickly. Instead you began to drift off, the allure of resting pulling you under so easily.

Your phone is still clutched in your hand as you oscillate between worlds, thinking of Alfred and that “oh my love” that had left his lips so tenderly, understanding now why your breath caught in your chest after, why you’d been persuaded to listen.

He refused to let you dismiss your own wellbeing when thinking of others, your importance to him was too great to let you follow him into the unknown even if he’d feel much better having you by his side.

Nothing was going to happen to you if he had anything to do about it.

You hadn’t ever been shown this much adoration before and so fiercely and consistently at that and you slip into a light slumber thinking that this must be what falling in love felt like. To know perhaps, somewhere etched deep within you that it was exactly that. Love.

An unending flame, a sewn red string, so viscerally real it had you swearing to nurture it always. Even in sleep you know you’d never dream of stopping.

—

Winter sun had just begun to set when you were woken up by the sharp buzzing of your phone. A text message.

On the way back now, Bruce is with me. Hope you’re doing alright, I’ll see you soon, lovely x Alfred

Smiling at the good news you rub the grogginess from your eyes and reply back before tucking your face back into the pillow for a few more minutes.

Your nap had lasted an hour or so and afternoon was quickly spilling into evening as you blink the last remnants of sleep away and check the time. Anticipation and the rumbling in your tummy finally get you up.

Taking a few moments to fix where your curls had flattened to your head from laying on your side, you fluffed out the small coils until it looked the way you wanted, padding down the old staircases and into the kitchen soon after.

You wanted to try and make something quick to eat for when they got back, you were sure if you were hungry they must be too especially after everything that had happened, all the extra energy spent.

A quick browse through the fridge and pantry had you grabbing ingredients for sandwiches, absentmindedly putting everything together and you’d just stacked the last one on the plate when you heard the elevator chime and you didn't bother to put anything away, rushing out to the foyer right away.

You don’t care that you’re running, feet carrying you forward with their own motivation, you’ve waited long enough and it’s a complete and total relief when Alfred and Bruce step inside.

Alfred saw you first, a grunt that turns into a chuckle resounding through his chest when you all but crash into him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in a hug that he returns immediately, his own arms sliding across your torso to pull you in close.

Not a second more apart, that is all you wished out of the rest of this day.

“I’m so happy you guys are back. What’s going on out there?” you compose yourself after a moment.

“Half the city is shut down right now, people are scared and staying inside judging by how empty the streets are.” Bruce runs a hand through his hair while he explains.

You almost don’t notice that his fingers are smudged in some sort of dark ink or paint, the color reminding you of motor oil, thoughts racing as to what could have happened, what he might have seen.

“Are you guys doing okay?” you’re asking quietly as you all walk into the main room, hoping you hadn’t pressed too much too soon, just worried by what their faces won’t yield.

Alfred shrugs off his coat and rubs your shoulders to comfort you.

“We’re both alright, darling, don’t worry.” He's reassuring you, steady and measured voice calming you enough to where you begin to let yourself focus on how delighted you are to see them.

Bruce is the first to head to the kitchen when you mention you made sandwiches if anyone was hungry, his thanks echoing down the hall.

You take a moment then to greet Alfred properly, kissing him soundly, spine tingling when he returned the kiss with a sweet pressure that gave away how much he missed you.

“I’m so sorry it’s been hours, their investigation is a big operation and nearly everyone needed to speak to us. Are you doing alright? I’ve been thinking of you all afternoon." He's looking over your frame again, almost like he can’t help but check for himself one more time

“I’m okay, I promise! Actually doing a lot better now that you’re here. It was hard not to be a nervous wreck for a second there but I took a shower and ended up sleeping for an hour and that really helped.” you’re sighing contently against his shoulder.

“That’s my girl. I am so proud of you for how you’ve handled all this today, I really am. That’s great!”

His words were so full of praise and affection it flusters your thoughts and you’re glad he can’t fully see your face lest he notice how much you’re affected, how much that just made you want him, but you reasoned it wasn’t the right time for romantic feelings and desires to take hold yet.

Not when there were still so many questions and things to be talked about, so you stow away those thoughts for the moment, already sure the tension would be palpable when you were able to be alone.

Maybe it would only be a little longer left till then.

Eventually the two of you joined Bruce in the kitchen, everyone feeling a little more settled after eating, able to process and debrief about what madness you’d found yourselves in today.

Surreal didn’t even begin to describe how it felt but it’s all you could manage to say, not quite sure how you were able to make it out of the chaos in the streets unscathed save for a few bruises, it all felt like a bad dream come to life and everyone feared that the worst was still yet to come, that sick feeling in your gut returning with the thought that they were probably right.

Dusky colors peeked over the horizon as the three of you tuned into the five o’clock evening news hour, wary faces glued to the TV as the first solid pictures of Scarecrow flashed across the screen. Your knees bounced nervously where you were sitting on an old loveseat, the reminder of his hooded face making you shiver.

An eerie cell phone video showed him moving down a street with his henchmen, people screaming and writhing on the ground from the toxin.

It seemed like he enjoyed what he had caused, a maniacal glint to his eyes, in the way he moved his face under that hood you swore had to be fused to his skin by the way it looked on him. You had to look away after the third loop of the video, an attempt to keep any nightmares about him later at bay.

Some information was given about the initial incident that sent everyone running; the toxin had been released inside the vents at the City Hall building near The Magpie, gas canisters later found in the ducts like the ones you’d seen in the commotion, lying in the snow so coincidentally.

Having confirmation that it had been planned like you thought only produced more confusion with the sudden wish to have been very wrong about what was going on.

Premeditation like this could only mean this man was cunning and careful, that he’d only been caught on video and surveillance footage because he intended to be seen and that terrified you to realize.

When you dared to peek at the TV again you immediately had to do a double take, up close photos of the men flanking Scarecrow in the video popping up, showing you what the men you saw in the alley really looked like out of the shadows.

You wanted to throw up. You knew for sure that you recognized one of them.

The same man who had been following you when you ran into Alfred that morning you met completely by chance.

It couldn’t be, you didn’t want it to be, as if you could kid yourself into believing you’d forgotten his face no matter how hard you had tried since that day, but it was him and a shudder rolled down your spine at how much of an awful turn this was.

Your small gasp of surprise caught Bruce’s attention and you noticed his careful gaze shift from the screen to your face in a question, figuring out what you’re stuck on trying to explain before you can get any words out.

“You know one of them?” there’s something in Bruce’s tone you can’t discern right away.

“I..yes I recognize him,” your sigh was heavy, followed by the point of your finger when the man’s picture was shown one more time. “Don’t know his name or anything but I do know he works for Oz, I’ve seen him around the Iceberg Lounge pretty recently.”

You took a deep breath before turning your attention to Alfred who was also listening curiously.

“I should also mention that I found out he was the man who was stalking me the morning we met. Oz sometimes uses his men to intimidate the dancers who get out of line with him and I may or may not have injured his pride the night before. I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner I just didn’t want to upset you with it.”

You cringe inwardly, anxiety rushing in all over again now that you’d said it out loud.

That incident had been something you tried not to give too much thought to, you’d been careful, always were and hadn’t had any more issues with being followed, even got back in Cobblepot’s good graces lately as well but seeing that photo brought it all back.

“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for, darling. That’s quite alright and more than understandable, I think you know either way I’d always be upset knowing he sent that man to stalk you but I would never be angry with you about that.” Alfred spoke gently.

You’re relieved he isn’t mad at you even if the guilt that lingered made you worry.

Maybe you’d make a point to bring it up again when you were alone and able to discuss it in the full context of your relationship, you were sure he wouldn’t mind giving you a little extra reassurance about it.

“Thank you. I don’t know what to make of this but I am a bit shocked Oz would be connected. He’s looking for opportunities to climb up in the crime world, all of us know that and he can be sleazy and he has a reputation for a reason but for him to be part of something like this if he really is involved is extreme.” you chew the inside of your cheek, pondering if your boss had made a deal with the devil in his search for power in Gotham.

Men like him were all smoke and mirrors with a penchant for easily bruised egos but these revelations had you questioning things. It wasn’t a good thing to know too much in this situation and right now, you were making one too many connections for your liking.

You would just have to be more vigilant now, especially around him.

The investigation into today’s fear toxin attack was still ongoing and every news outlet was clamoring for updates and solid information that was nonexistent right now, Bruce finally turning off the TV after a while.

There would be a press conference tomorrow, maybe the city would know more by then but for now it was no use to any of you to rewatch the events you’d already experienced firsthand today.

Bruce announced he was going to shower and call it a night and wished you well if he didn’t see you again, adding that you were welcome to stay any time if you didn’t feel safe going home and he was glad you weren’t hurt after everything.

It brought about a smile to your face again to know he didn’t think any differently of you and made sure you felt welcome.

You were remembering his offer to surprise Alfred with a proper dinner this weekend and though what happened today seemed to put a huge damper on things, you hoped that could still happen.

Closeness and company was what you all needed right now.

After helping Alfred tidy up the kitchen a bit he offers to drive you home and your face must have indicated your disappointment because he was quick to explain he had every intention of spending the rest of the night with you, just thought you’d want to be in your own space after such a taxing day.

He was right, as comfortable as you felt here at Wayne Tower you did miss your apartment and your bed and the familiarity of being in your space but you were also relieved to know that he was still looking forward to making the most out of things this evening.

Of course he’d never leave you wanting or wishing.

Trying to hide your eagerness was a challenge, a new kind of adrenaline in your system as you watched Alfred gather some things to take with him because he said he’d be staying the night too which meant you’d get to have him to yourself after all, putting excitement back in your veins after you’d been quietly hoping to be able to wake up next to him in the morning.

When you finally left the Tower, the streets were just as barren and quiet as Bruce had said, it was eerie not seeing any of the usual traffic.

The only semblance of relief came from seeing that familiar bat signal lit up in the sky, a few hopeful beams cutting through the gloom in the air.

Nothing was going to be the same moving forward and most of the city had been bracing for this since the first threat. It was only a matter of time but tonight, you wanted to forget for a little while and just take all the comfort and quality time with Alfred that you could.

He was as protective as ever walking up to your building and doesn’t fully drop his guard until you’re both inside and the door is locked.

Home at last!

Falling back onto more recent patterns, the space by the door is filled in with Alfred’s shoes, his coat hanging up next to yours, his presence in your apartment making it feel the most complete it’s ever been.

He insisted that you let him make an evening cup of tea for both of you while you sank into the couch cushions, browsing through movies to watch together before you agree on something comedic and lighthearted.

Eventually he joined you and somewhere in between laying your head against his shoulder and the middle of the movie, you finished your mug of chamomile tea and Alfred had pulled you into his lap.

And somewhere between then and the end of the movie you fit yourselves together so you could be cuddled against his side, your leg draped over his to make space.

He’s so solid and warm that you’re helpless to sink into his hold, unable to explain why his arms made you feel so sweetly held, so comforted that the feeling radiated through just the mere mention of his name.

Maybe it’s why the tears eventually came, when you knew you were completely safe and able to feel all your emotions fully after hours of having to push through.

It didn’t take Alfred long to notice your quiet sniffles though, catching the moment some of those tears spill over in silence.

“Ohh sweetheart, it’s alright you’re okay. I’m right here, can you tell me what’s on your mind?” His words are soft and patient and spoken so gently you feel more tears come.

“Today was just a lot…like I keep thinking of when we got separated in the street. I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared as I was at that moment. It’s probably all hitting me now I think,” the waver in your voice could have broken his heart.

“It was a lot and you’ve done such a good job getting through it, you know that was a brilliant idea to use your scarf as a mask? You have no idea how proud I am of you! But you are right, that was terrifying, I was so worried you were hurt or trampled or worse, can’t imagine how caught off guard and disoriented you must have felt and I am so sorry for that, darling.”

Alfred kissed your temple, fingers careful when he began to wipe away the salty streaks left behind on your cheeks and nose.

You wiggle yourself a little closer and nod against his shoulder, “You found me though, you made sure I wouldn’t be hurt even if you did almost give me a heart attack thinking I’d never be able to find you again.”

This time there’s a genuine, shy laugh at the end of your words.

“I’d always find you, you know that right?” his tone shifted to a slight seriousness, still comforting but there’s a weight to his words that steals your breath. “There isn’t a time, a place or a world in which I wouldn’t come find you, wouldn’t do everything in my power to keep you safe, you mean far too much to me.”

You cried a bit more when all of that sentiment sank in because you trusted Alfred so much you knew he spoke truthfully, it wasn’t just to ease your emotions he meant every word and in turn, you’d felt every word.

“I know, I don’t doubt that one bit. I know we talked about this earlier but I do want you to know I didn’t intend to keep that information about Oz sending someone to stalk me a secret from you. I promise I’m going to be a lot more careful around him now too.”

He wiped away the dampness from your lashes before simply shaking his head at you and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“That would definitely be wise going forward especially since we don’t know how deep his involvement goes but I also don’t want you worrying about how I feel, sweet girl. That was always yours to tell if and when you felt ready and it meant something greater that you trusted me with that knowledge, that I can be a place of confidence for you.”

When would he ever stop rendering you speechless?!

You began to think the answer was never and that was just fine honestly, your heart so taken with his patience and diligence to validate your feelings whenever it was needed, no shame or dismissal involved.

“Sometimes I think I just need a little extra reminding but you’re right I do know I can trust you with anything that’s going on, with anything I’m feeling.”

“Good, that makes me happy. I may have been thinking about putting you over my knee for thinking such silly thoughts that I would be upset, but there’s not a single thing you have to apologize for.”

Oh.

You forgot how to breathe after hearing that, something lighting up inside you imagining yourself over his knee, accompanying thoughts of being toyed with, spanked, squirming and helpless under the grip of those strong hands of his followed swiftly.

He’d figured it out now, reading the change of your expression for what it was, latent desires rising to the surface.

You untangled yourself from his embrace to sit up for a moment, further distracted when he clasped his hands behind his head, shirt pulling taut over his biceps.

“Thanks for reassuring me, if I ask again feel free to do that though, think I might actually get it through my head then,” you teased shyly, “I guess I am being silly, you did after all muscle your way through a wall of people to get to me, which by the way was very impressive.”

He laughed at your compliment, the sound low and gravelly to your ears, pulling you in.

“Mm used to be a boxer, love. I’m flattered you think so.”

Oh wow. Again your interest in his skills had been piqued and he must have seen the flicker of an urge to ask further in your eyes because he continued after a second.

“Well, field medics like to have fun too and it was the army so we were all trained in hand-to-hand combat; boxing kept us in shape and gave the lads something to do, to focus on. I still try to keep up with the training, Bruce and I spar a lot of the time, we have since he was old enough to throw a punch.” Alfred tilted his head at you a little, reminiscence on his features for but a moment.

A stray image of potentially watching him spar one day landed right in your lap and it was incredibly hard not to involuntarily scoot your leg further up from where it was draped over his thigh.

He was so damn attractive it wasn’t fair. It made sense, the boxing, connecting why his shoulders were so defined, the tone in the muscles of his back, the power you knew he had behind those thick hands and even thicker thighs.

So sturdy and agile, age and old injuries just a reminder that every move was calculated for a reason.

“That’s so cool. I bet it’s a good way to let off some steam too,” you rest your chin on the plush pillows of the sofa. Something had begun to shift, a slowly simmering tension working its way between your bodies.

“Oh I can think of other things that would do that better.”

The look on his face sends a wave of heat through you, straight to your core.

“Like putting me over your knee?”

It slipped from your lips on a whim but he was ready for it and you realized he’d been enticing you this whole time.

“If that’s what you’d like then of course. Have you ever been spanked before, darling?”

You took a shallow breath, “Maybe once or twice it’s happened in the moment but no, not really, not properly like that. I-I think I’d actually enjoy it, um have you ever spanked anyone before?”

“I have.”

He unclasped his hands to sit up next to you, eyes never leaving your face, keeping the intensity up, lighting every little flame inside you by the second. He knew exactly what he was doing and you were going to let every spark catch.

“Also impressive and yes, Alfred. I want your hands on me,” you sighed a soft plea.

“C’mere then, I’ve got you.” He tugs you gently into a kiss and your fingers slide down over his wrists when they moved in to cup your face, touching you the way you wanted, so sure and thorough until he grasps for your hips, hungrier than you’d anticipated.

He doesn’t waste time, your surprised little squeal making him smile when he moves to stand up and lifts you slightly by your hips, tipping you so you’d fall into him before he was transferring your weight so you were hauled over his shoulders, centered with such ease so that you felt balanced and stable now that you were off the ground.

Your pulse thuds in your chest as you cling to him, those nervous giggles muffled against his back while he carries you to bed.

—

The short walk down the hall made you feel jittery in the best way, a nervous excitement bubbling inside you knowing he was experienced with this, that he was going to show you and make it feel so good. You were sure he would.

It’s almost crazy to be back in your room after all that’s happened today, how tense all the minutes bleeding into hours had been.

But it could all be pushed to the background for a while, your attention locked into the moment as Alfred sat down on your bed, bringing you with him, your body positioned across his lap so prettily, angled so your legs were spread just slightly with the length of his left thigh keeping you supported.

You stretched out your upper half on the duvet, propped up on your elbows to look back at him, watching as he pushed your leggings down, throwing them somewhere behind him on the bed before warm hands were caressing up your shins, over your thighs and up to the swell of your ass.

His palm kneaded your flesh, strong fingers applying a teasing amount of pressure while you squirmed and arched back into his touch.

“I’ll start slow, is that alright? Nothing too hard, just a few spanks to see what you can tolerate. If you don’t like it or aren’t sure, we don’t have to continue.” His hand moves in soothing circles across your skin and he leans in to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“Yes, I’m okay with that.” you try and breathe.

“Good, I want you to say the word red if you need to stop, yellow if you need to slow down and green to continue if I stop to check in. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

There’s a little authority in his voice and it made you squirm again, aroused by his establishment of cues and a safeword right away, how in charge he felt right now, you wanted this so badly it caught you by surprise. You hadn’t expected to be so needy for this.

Remembering that he was waiting for a reply you squeak out a yes and have to bite your lip to keep from gasping when he pulls his hand back and swats the center of your ass, more sound behind the movement than there was force but it still made you jolt forward.

You groaned at the dull sting that prickled your skin after and glanced at Alfred who was already studying your reaction.

“Well done, how did that feel?” he cooed praise at you and this time you don’t try to stop the sound you make in response.

“Felt good, like what I was expecting but also different but I liked it, I want more.” your legs flexed when his hands smooth over your skin one more time, his pleased smirk at your declaration making heat pool in your lower back.

You wished he would slip off your underwear too, so then he’d be able to see just how soaked you were from all this but you knew you had to be patient and the reward would be everything.

You do take a second, however, to wiggle out of your sweater, starting to feel warm under the fleece lined fabric, and when you glanced back Alfred was admiring just as you thought he might be.

No bra, nothing underneath but soft, brown skin for him to feel and just to entice him a little more, you arch your hips, making your ass jiggle, just enough to pull his steely gaze down your backside.

The next spank is firmer than the first, more heaviness to his hand that made you whimper, your mind feeling a little hazy in the best way, the kind of haze that felt like a release, a soft bed to lay down on and surrender some control because you knew you’d be taken care of.

Thwap!

Whimpers and moaned out gasps mark the smack of his palm on each of your asscheeks, only a slight increase in the amount of force so that the sting just bordered on stealing your breath.

“Christ, you’re so gorgeous like this, baby.”

His accent was deeper, that gruff voice sending tingles rippling across your spine, going down smooth like whiskey and followed by his left hand sliding over your back to rest on your right hip, making sure you couldn’t squirm away.

He made each spank hurt in the most delightful way, alternating between right and left and then across both cheeks, spreading out the sensation, giving you a feel for which areas were more sensitive, which areas you liked being spanked at.

“Oh, fuck!” breathy curses left your lips when he kept at it, precise hands giving you just the right amount of impact.

“Good girl, you are doing so well. I think it’s time we take these off, hm?” he coaxes your hips up slightly so he can hook his fingers under the waistband of your panties and you’re all but begging him to.

Nevermind if he felt like tearing them in two, you would have let him, but he’s polite in how he strips you despite the way you feel him stirring, hardening beneath where you lay. God, you wanted him so badly.

“Please touch me, oh please,” you don’t even realize the words are coming from you.

In barely audible little pleas muffled by where your face is flush with the bed but Alfred doesn’t miss anything and he’s grinning in your peripheral.

“You should see how soaked you are, love. Need my fingers there, is that right?” his fingers were already inching towards where you ached the most, his right hand circling, distracting you from being able to speak while preparing you for another spank.

“Yes! Please, Alfred, I want it so much!” your whimper leaves both of you aching.

A tremble in your thighs had spread down to your pointed toes with the way he swirled the pads of his index and middle fingers over the slick mess between your thighs.

Slow and sweet as he slid them over your folds and circled over your clit, waiting and then rewarded with the eventual roll and arch of your hips, his free hand drawing back and then coming down on heated skin.

You gave a strangled cry, the sound turning into a moan when his fingers continued to circle your clit, responding to the way your body reacted, only taking his eyes off you for a moment when he finally put aside his self control to watch your pretty pussy swallow his thick fingers.

He worked you open gently, remembering how you liked him to move, where those sensitive spots were even at this new angle.

Giving you something to clench around with his next spank, coaxing you to rock into his touch like he could see you wanted to do, the gorgeous sway of your hips trying to meet the plunge of his fingers, undeniably needy for him.

You knew he could hear it in the way you cried out his name, how sensitive your entire body was now, the broken, pleading edge to the way you praise him in return, telling him how good it felt, how much you’d been needing this.

The pleasure built higher as did Alfred’s movements, a hiss at the edge of your words at each searing swat of his hands that mixed with the scissoring of his fingers, both working in careful, measured tandem.

“That’s my girl, come on, that’s it!” he grits out when you push up onto your elbows again and grind your hips back.

The passion and possession in the way he called you his merged with the curving of his fingers and you both know you’re there, tender walls fluttering as you come, thighs aching, your whole body tingling, trembling with the steady roll of his wrist keeping the pleasure drawn out, filling your entire body.

You’re not embarrassed by the tears that prick your eyes or the sob in your throat that follow when he finally flips you over, laying you back because you’d begged for him to and who was he to refuse you, an angel.

If you wanted his face between your thighs, eating your dripping pussy until you were too sensitive to take it, that’s exactly what he’d give you and it’s why you weren’t shy, not in this moment, not when you knew he wanted it just as much as you.

Soft hands disturb the careful style of Alfred’s hair, unable to help it when his tongue licks you and the salt and pepper scruff scratches achingly over your inner thighs, daring you to try and close them.

Not like you’d want to, able to see how his shoulders curved and bulged with the stretch of his shirt as he kept your legs parted with his body.

This was everything you had wanted, moaning at the way he consumed you so lovingly, a weight in his touch and in his encouraging, filthy words that told you he wasn’t holding back now, you were his girl, he could show you the more true depth of his desire now.

And you were safe to do the same, you craved it actually, always wanting this and you reason you have this entire time, craving this level of care and need, even obsession with each other, so much trust and feelings at the center of it.

“So good, baby. Just like that, please…” you barely get the words out, lungs losing air from the focus he gave to your words even before you finished speaking.

His hands didn’t stay idle, the grip of his hands over your body like he wanted to memorize the feel of you, the way you dipped and curved and stretched and it drove you wild, the wet suction of his mouth the only thing your mind could focus on.

It’s a wonder you can even move when he finally withdraws his mouth from your puffy lips, turning his still hungry and devoted gaze towards your chest, those stiff peaks he’d been neglecting through all this, but no longer.

You squirmed into the flick of his tongue, the way he kissed your skin and praised and nipped and got his lips on every inch of skin that he could while you just laid back and relaxed, recovered from the orgasm still twitching in the muscles of your arms, your thighs, your tummy.

“Just look at you. Fuck, I am so lucky,” he rumbles against your collar and you wrap your arms around him, curled against him.

“I feel exactly the same way.”

His soft huff of breath against your neck tickled and you snake your legs around him, hoping to keep him close, just wanting to be in his arms and under his body for as long as you could.

You’d take forever, and that was all you needed to know.

The Shoreline Lofts

November 27

12:00 a.m.

The Batman was watching. Unblinking and focused, planted in place but ready for anything that might come. Folding himself into the inky cloak of the midnight hour.

The Iceberg Lounge was directly beneath the loft space but that wasn’t why Bruce had come tonight.

No, he was far more interested in what Penguin got up to in private, without guests and dancers and clients around, what secrets or clues might be yielded if he just sat and watched, surveilled for a while.

He was curious why the man you had recognized from the news was connected to Scarecrow and he didn’t believe for a moment that Oz wasn’t keeping tabs on what his men were doing, he had to have known the attack was going to happen.

Motives were unclear but pieces of this horrid puzzle were starting to come together so Bruce wouldn’t rest until he could see the grand picture for what it was.

He tipped the binoculars back up to the blackened edges of his cowl, zeroing in again on where Oz was playing pool, unaware a shadow sat spying through the skylight.

The building’s layout was already scoped out, every entry point found, tested, and memorized. Now Bruce would wait and watch until Penguin left the loft to slip in and see what he could find.

Gordon needed intel, something to go on after grasping for dead end’s, there was no time to sit on things, not after what he’d seen today.

Not after you and Alfred were almost hurt and especially not after he’d seen what the toxin did to people, recognizing the look of anguish in their eyes like his own reflection.

A waking nightmare was no stranger to Bruce so he’d make sure of this, Scarecrow would be made to answer.

A/N: It’s been so long and I have missed writing for Alfred and I’m really surprised and proud of what I wrote here! Went through a lot of emotions trying to get this on the page and there was a lot of self doubt and anxiety and unfairly beating myself up about things not coming together but here we are and I just really love that I pushed through and had fun putting this all together in the end 💕 We stan protective Alfred! Like if that’s not a whole husband right there!

Thanks for giving this a read!

no pressure tags! 💌 @flamingdisputes @saradika @ozarkthedog @tarabyte3 @tarrenterror25 @the-eyes-of-andyserkis @communism-bitches @xnodamsel @glitterjuju @mariahthelioness29 @ayoarticulate @fluffyprettykitty @unrefinedmusings @xoxovivafics @peachyteabuck

#amalia writes #alfred pennyworth x reader #alfred pennyworth x black reader #alfred pennyworth x woc #the batman!alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth smut #alfred pennyworth x you #alfred pennyworth fanfiction #alfred pennyworth fanfic #andy serkis

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eupheme · 2 months

Text

— all I want is you

alfred pennyworth x f!reader

rated e - 4.5k

tags: pfyt request, jealous and possessive!alfred, light angst, copious amts of tooth-rotting fluff, split pov, semi-clothed semi-public sex, return of the daddy kink (light), marking, creampie

a/n: inspired by this lovely thot by @csboz 💖 references part ii and vii of penny for your thoughts but not required to enjoy

When a gala brings you face-to-face with your ex, Alfred realizes that seeing something in a photo is a lot different than seeing it in person.

Alfred had never considered himself a jealous man.

Maybe life had been simpler, then. He had known his place, where he fit in. A perfectly-made mould, sculpted just for him.

Solider. Bodyguard. Lover.

The lines of each were neatly set. Not just drawn in sand, but etched into stone.

Rules and regulations only blurring in the evening, behind closed doors. In the same slow way that evening bleeds into night - red to orange to deep indigo. Only to right itself the next morning, with the clear coming of dawn.

As man of routine, it had been easy to follow. He had never given it much thought, this throbbing ache in his chest. Fingers that itch to reach out, and take. The poison that pulls at his brow - the permanent furrow above narrowed, watchful eyes.

It’s uncomfortably new, and unwelcome.

And now, small part of him wonders if it’s because he never had anything that was really - truly - his.

Not the way that you are.

As much his and he is yours. The band on your finger, that promise, had felt like enough when he had sunk to a knee before you.

Now, he’s resisting the urge to drape you in jewels. To whisk you away. To give you anything you want.

It had been different, seeing that photo. Static, splashed across the screen in black and white.

Another insecurity had dug its claw into his mind then, convincing himself that he wasn’t good enough. Acutely aware of just how undeserving he was.

You had set him straight. It’s a night he still remembers, one he cherishes deeply.

The night you told him, even if it had taken him a while to return those words to you.

He had thought he knew better. That such emotion had no hold over him.

But a photo doesn’t move. A photo doesn’t have roving eyes, doesn’t give a look that he doesn’t much care for.

You looked beautiful, of that he had no doubt.

An hour ago it had been almost all he could think about. The thoughts of the Gala and those he must meet with Bruce severing - splitting down the middle, as you had modeled your dresses for him.

Asking his opinion, twisting and twirling in front of the mirror. Letting him undress you after each one, his lips against your spine as he worked the zipper. Black and bronze and silver, all wrapping around you, until you had picked a favorite.

Wanting to get things right. No longer just the messenger girl, but now seen often at Bruce’s side. Someone that was recognized, that was sought after.

He’s always seen you. Then and now and in the bedroom, tucked away, he had been so proud.

And when you had slipped your arm in his in the Tower, neatly curving your hand into the crook of his arm, he had thought it would be a long night.

Eager to end up right back here, to strip the fabric from you, one final time.

But now… it feels like an eternity.

There’s an uneasy flip in your stomach, when you see him.

It’s lessened over the months since that first meeting. You’ve run into Harvey a few times since the Parliament, though you haven’t stepped foot in the building since. Those days were long behind you, buried deep.

Your path with the newly-elected DA would continue to cross, as long as Bruce was working with him to improve Gotham. It was something you had thought about, had decided to bear. Another thing from the past, that you were convinced would no longer take up a worried residence in your mind.

And it was different, this time.

This time, Alfred is with you.

Not physically with you at the moment, but the comfort still lingers. He had just stepped away - offering to get you a drink while the guests work their way into the banquet hall, after the silent auction.

Leaving you next to the ornate seating chart - trying to pick your name out of the hundreds of small groupings.

And it seemed like Harvey Dent had the same idea.

“Thought I would see you here, doll.” The handshake he offers turns into a hug, his hand pressing against your shoulder. You own giving a half-hearted pat against his back.

“And I figured you would be too. To see Bruce, I mean.” You smile tightly before your eyes are drifting back to the list, “Is Gilda with you?”

His arm brushes yours as he moves to your left, to look for his own name, “Not tonight. She’s getting ready for a show next month.”

His fiancée. The girl he dated after you - the girl he was set to marry, once his position was settled.

There’s no twinge in your stomach this time. No weird, lingering feelings that you hadn’t been able to process.

Just a sense of pity, that he had to come alone. Thinking back - you can’t remember the last event she’s been to.

You never minded going to these things. Half the time it was your job. But it was always better when Alfred came with you.

“What about you? You here with anyone?” He’s asking, nodding towards the cane tucked under your arm - but then you hear your name. The press of a warm hand to the small of your back, as you are gently moved to the side.

“There you are, darling.” Alfred coos, as you grin - making room for him. The flute passed over from where he stands between you and Harvey, before he’s turning.

“Mr. Dent,” His left hand extends, “Pleasure.”

Harvey’s eyes flick down for the briefest of moments. Following the path of the arm that curls around you. To where you lift the glass to drink, the glitter that reflects off one of your fingers.

He smiles, as he takes the offered hand. You miss the way Alfred’s knuckles whiten, for the briefest of moments. The slightest wince in reply, before they’re letting go and Harvey is pivoting to face both of you.

“Heard about the accident. I didn’t think you’d be out and about just yet.”

The reminder almost makes you flinch. It’s been months, but you still have nightmares - racing down endless bleached-white halls, trying to find him. Panic flaring when a siren wails down the street, your eyes automatically leaping to the sky.

“It would take more than an amateur to get rid of me, I’m afraid. Much less Master Bruce.” Alfred’s knuckle graze along your back, soothing. A small smile sent your way, “Besides, I had the finest care you could ask for.”

There’s a presence at your elbow then, the feeling of a heavy shadow.

“Table Twelve.” Bruce tells you in greeting, after a quick glance at the chart - before he’s turning to Harvey, “I heard you’re working on the Nashton case.”

“Not much of one,” Harvey grins, a hand smacking Bruce’s shoulder before he sends you a wink. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me. I’ll make sure that freak stays in Arkham.”

There's a tightness in Alfred’s jaw, his hand staying firmly in place. A tell-tale tap of annoyance of the cane you’ve handed back, against the marble floor.

You're certain that you're the only one who notices, besides Bruce - the briefest flicker of a look before he's lassoed back into the conversation.

There's a shuffle, when you sit for dinner soon after. Your arrangement differs from what's been noted on the namecards, as Alfred pulls out the seat to his right, instead of left. You take it, without much thought - fitting yourself between him and Bruce.

The conversation from before trickling into dinner, silted by the way Bruce has to lean past both of you - an elbow digging into the table - to talk to Harvey.

Your mind has drifted elsewhere. That unease of seeing him again disappearing completely with Alfred's arrival at your elbow. With his touch now - the hand that slips beneath the tablecloth. The breadth of his palm as it presses down, high above your knee.

Curving the silky fabric of your dress against your thigh. His touch firm enough that you can feel the slow drag of his fingers, circling strokes that press into your skin.

Reminding you of his touch, somewhere else.

Distracting you terribly, thoughts drifting back to the stolen moments as you dressed. Barely able to manage not to squirm in your seat, as the food is served.

He’s attentive as you eat - his voice low and smooth in your ear, as he points out people you should make note of. His gaze always on yours - the grip of his hand tightening each time he leans, sometimes slipping higher for the briefest moment.

A welcome distraction, as the courses are served.

The first of the notes are plucked from the big band on the stage when dinner is cleared - a modern cover played in an old jazz style, the notes drawn out and bright.

Harvey’s arm slings across the back of his chair, as he leans to catch your attention.

“I nearly forgot about them,” He gestures with a smile, a two fingers tipping towards the stage, “Bristol County Club, do you remember?

You did.

It had been before you were together, back when you were just friends - a senior banquet, right before graduation. Month spent on a fundraiser that pulled out all the stops.

Catered food, black-tie, a hired band. Compared to now it felt so small - but back then, it was the most extravagant night you could imagine.

The memory makes you smile, and just as your lips part to answer there’s a touch to your arm - a voice cutting through.

“Would you like to join me, dove?”

Alfred’s hand extends in front of you - waiting, his seat already pushing back. His cane tucked against his chair, to be retrieved after.

“Excuse me,” You manage to tell Harvey - before your hand is pressing into his, and he’s guiding you away.

Winding in between the other tables, joining the couples that spill from their own, onto the dance floor.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all night.” Alfred tells you, as the dance floor slowly fills, “You look beautiful. Have I told you that already?”

It makes your cheeks heat, “Maybe once or twice.”

There’s couples swirling around you, each caught up in the endless flutes of champagne, the energy from the live band on the stage.

You stay close, though. A slow, sway - the movement familiar, even if the details are different this time.

How the hand that should cup yours, now entwines - fingers lacing together.

How the palm that guides you slips lower on your back. Not so far that it’s improper, but you can feel the warmth and pressure on the curve of your ass, inside of your spine.

It sends up a spark that follows the path his lips took earlier. A soft press of his lips as the zipper lowered, each time.

You had wanted him, then. The only thing that kept you in check was knowing how he’d never give in, if it made you both late.

Leaving the memory sizzling under your skin.

Stoked by these slow moments of change. Because you’re starting to put things together now - all those little details perhaps imperceptible to an acquaintance.

But not to you.

It takes you another two songs to figure things out fully. The circling steps taking you into the middle of the floor, and then out to the opposite side. Far away from the shared table.

You haven’t really seen him quite like this before. If you didn’t love him so much, perhaps you’d want to laugh.

And you think that maybe - maybe, you should do something about it.

His fingers slip higher on your back, but it’s only to press you just a little bit closer. Your lips brush against the peppered-grey scruff on his beard, just before you press a kiss against his cheekbone.

Keeping your fingers clasped as you step away, back towards the edge of the dance floor.

“Come with me.” You coax, but you don’t have to.

He follows - would follow - you anywhere, a hand in yours until the dark corners of the room surround you, the music fading as you slip with him down a corridor.

It’s near-deserted - a thick ornate rug running down the hall. Small groupings of those discussing business, paying you no mind as you wind down one more hallway.

Your name is a whispered question as you try the handle - the room you open is not in use, like you knew it would be. Year-old memories of helping Hazel set up in these halls are still fresh in your mind.

Perhaps at one point, it had been set up for meetings, or a small, private party. The wallpaper pretty and patterned, but at least a decade old. Matching furniture pushed around - heavy wooden tables shoved to one side. Stacked rows of chairs in another corner.

A dim and dusty table lamp that you click on, as he shuts the door behind you.

“You look like you could use a minute.” You tell him, with a knowing tilt of your head.

The corner of his lips twitch, “Am I that obvious, dove?”

“Maybe just to me,” You smile, hands finding his, as you walk backward. As he follows, again.

Another glance around the room, before you’re adding, “Feels a little familiar, hm?"

His stern look softens, as he remembers.

Your second meeting, that flurry of feelings. Him, thinking might have changed your mind. Your own anxiety, thinking he wasn't going to call.

Leading his hands to your hips, as you lean against a table that bumps up against the wall. A second, before you’re pushing yourself up, to perch on the edge.

"I think I loved you, even then." Your admission is soft. Cheeks burning in the darkness, even after all this time, "Well, I knew when we danced together in your kitchen. But, I mean... even that early, I knew you would be important to me."

He laughs - a short, rough thing. It startles you, a little frown as your chin tips up.

"I'm sorry, darling. I just-” He sounds almost breathless, in the dim room, “That night... for me, too."

Your smile is bright, blinding. If asked, you’d say it was impossible to love him more, but with his answer comes a surge of affection, a little flip of your heart.

His own lips curve, when you meet them. Hair shorn short and velvet against your fingers as your hand slips against his neck. Sighing into his mouth as he leans into your touch, into the kiss.

Pressing himself snug against the table, as your thighs have to inch wider. Your knees digging into his hips, as his hands find your waist.

Possessive, in the way he grips onto you. Fingers pressing into the fabric, your skin. The smallest tug to bring you forward, closing those last few inches of space.

His confession finally coming in the breaths between your mouths meeting - quiet, in the dark room.

“I don’t like the way he was looking at you,” It’s almost a growl, as your lips press against his cheek, “Like he was reconsidering things.”

You do laugh then, but not at him. The sound low in your throat, bitten back, “You know, it would have to go both ways, right? That I would want to want that, too?”

Before your voice lowers, “You know that you’re the one I’m going home with.”

His eyes seem to darken at that, his voice a low rasp, “I know.”

“Then you realize you’re being silly?” You press, gently.

Alfred does smile, then - a small, rueful thing.

“I’m well aware.” An inhale of breath, then, “I haven’t felt this way before, but then again I’ve never-”

His words break off, as his eyes drag down you for just a moment. Admiring, but it’s more than that. The same feeling that was stirred with his greedy touch, the delicious shiver at the growling rasp his voice.

It does something to you - your pulse quickening, something hungry awakening in your belly.

“Do you need me to show you, again?” You offer sweetly, learning forward to let your lips brush his again.

His answer comes as a ragged sigh, “Just once more, love.”

Expecting words, perhaps another soft press of your mouth, before you return to the party.

Not the way that the soft layers of your skirt gather in a hand, bundled near your hip. How your other catches his palm, guiding his fingers beneath.

Cupping you. Where you’re so warm and where the thin fabric clings to you - worked up from before, and during, and now.

He sucks in a breath as you bite back your own sigh. Your hand still on his wrist as your lips press against his throat, to the hollow under his ear.

A bitten-back groan as your teeth graze his earlobe, just before you croon.

“You could take me in here, you know that?”

The hand on your waist tightens, just as his fingers begin to move. The tips of two fingers crooking against the fabric, slipping up to circle against you.

“That’s what you want, right? To send me back out there, full of you?”

Alfred wouldn’t ask it of you, you’re sure. Too proper to suggest it, himself… but to have it offered so prettily and openly.

But he is only human, after all.

You can feel his groan against your lips, the flex of his muscles as he swallows.

“Yes.” He rasps.

The fingers that circle halt, but only enough so he can slip them beneath your panties. His eyes dark in the dim light of the room, fixed on yours as his touch teases you. Drifting along your slit, before dipping lower.

A rough curse growled out as the tip one fits inside you easily. You’re slick, the fabric damp and sticking to your skin, coating the fingers that presses deep, before he’s working in another.

“Oh fuck,” You sigh, thighs nudging wider. Hands wandering, fingers hooking around his belt and tugging him closer, “Please, Alfred-”

“I will.” He promise, before his mouth is pressing against yours. Fingers working you open, as you tug at his zipper, trying to slip your fingers beneath.

Finding him more than half-hard from your words, thickening with the touch of your hand on bare skin, as you work him free. His other hand rises - cupping the back of your neck, just as his fingers press deep and curl.

His desire thrills you. Not often does he give into your whims when you’re out like this. Preferring to make you wait, make you suffer until he’s got you alone again.

More than once you’ve ridden him in his car, but that was an extension of his space. Fingers have drifted during dances, during long dinners.

A promise for later, but not now.

You’d be worried if he hadn’t already admitted just how self-aware he was.

But he needs this.

You can sense it - the tick in his jaw, the not-so-subtle flex of his hips into your fist. The way his fingers pound, as if trying to rip the orgasm from you.

It has you clenching down hard, whining. Your other hand drifting - across his chest, tugging on his tie to keep him close. Parting your lips with the soft brush of his tongue, so he can taste you as his hand slips free.

Working it over his aching cock twice - marking himself fully with you, until it’s slick with your need.

“Come here.” He reaches for you, his other hand guiding your hips to edge of the table, “I’ll give you what you want dove, but you need to be quiet.”

Nudging your thighs wider with his hip, your legs rising to hook around his waist, opening yourself up more. One of your hands bracing behind you, flattened across the tabletop.

He’s so broad like this. The shadowed light cutting across his features, his strong shoulders. The loosened tie, the clinking belt the only pieces out of place.

The velvet soft length rubs against you, as he steps closer. Your eyes drop to watch the slow twist of his fist as he rubs the tip against your folds.

“As much as I want everyone to hear you’re mine, I’m not too keen on sharing.”

It makes you throb, the edge in his tone. How aware you both are of the unlocked door. The hundreds of people just outside, the muted music that crashes against the walls.

Too far gone to stop, as eyes narrow - letting himself look, now. To where you’re exposed and open - so needy for him that it makes him ache.

He won’t leave you waiting.

With the next roll of his hips, he’s splitting you open. Not with the slow tease of home - fitting just the tip, making you earn every inch. No, this makes you cry out - the feeling of his cock making a home for himself in your warm cunt.

He swallows the sound, his own groan rough in his throat.

“Christ, I missed you.” Alfred rasps, as if it had been weeks instead of hours. Eyes fixed on your own, how they go half-lidded with the drag of his cock, as he begins to move.

“Missed you too,” You whine, as you start to lean back, your dress still fisted around your waist.

Thinking he’d like to watch - see where you stretch around his cock, where he fucks you open. How he gleams with your desire, with each sharp rut of his hips.

Instead, Alfred catches your wrist. Holding it against his chest as he tugs you back up.

“No,” It’s close to an order, except for the way he sighs with need, “Stay close darling, just for a moment. Please.”

Your legs hook around him, instead. Doing as you’re told, as your hands drop your dress - sliding across his shoulders instead, fingers entwining behind his neck.

The “good girl” he murmurs shoots straight to your cunt, a shared look that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

His thrusts grow harder, deeper. A steady pound that will leave both of you aching tonight, not that either of you mind.

In this moment it’s just you and him, everything else fades into soft shades of nothing. Your focus caught on the spots where you’re connected. Eyes, hands, mouth. His cock, pressed deep - dragging against a spot that sends a rolling wave of pleasure to lap low in your belly.

And when his hand leaves your wrist to drift down, circling against you once again, you feel as if you’re about to break.

His name is garbled, another soft plea. Your hips rocking into the perfect pressure of his touch - further proof of his devotion. Every detail tucked away so carefully, keep safe in a mind that never forgets.

“Oh fuck, don’t stop-” You whine, forgetting about your promise. Each breath short and harsh as your nails sink into fabric, desperate to cling to this moment.

Alfred’s forgotten too, his growl lower than the low murmur of before.

“Never.” He rasps, “Come on, darling. Let me feel you-”

Everything winds tight, your breath held. And then - it snaps, fracturing and splintering. The music fading out to white noise.

You come with him wrapped around you. Caged in - an arm wrapping around, hand pressed between your shoulder blades. The other steady and unmerciful against your clit, drawing your pleasure out. He groans with the tight pulse of your orgasm, pressing himself deep, so he can feel each throb.

“There it is, that’s my girl.” It’s murmured into your sweat-dewed skin, as he mouths at your neck.

This is what he’s been craving. His mind a seismograph - those jittery waves of emotions now slipping flat and smooth. A reminder that he’s the only one that makes you feel this way.

Loose-limbed in his arms. Your grin lazy as you squirm against him, trying to catch the fingers that push you towards too much.

You feel a low laugh against your skin, as bristle of his beard tickles your cheek. Then, against the soft column of your throat. His lips following, as he starts to fuck you again.

Just as teeth scrape and then pinch the curve where shoulder meets neck. A rough groan against your skin, just before his lips close - sucking hard against the same spot.

You’re sure it will leave a mark. High above the strap of your dress. Near impossible to hide, and you find yourself thinking that he did that on purpose.

Tongue trapped between your teeth as you smile, going soft. Letting your hands drift now, smoothing over the soft fabric of his shirt. Slipping beneath his open jacket to hook your fingers into the hem of his pants.

Urging him to a quicker pace, as you tell him what he needs to hear.

“Yours.”

Finger pinch at your hips, angling them so he can drive deeper. You can just barely hear the wet suck with each thrust, again and again and again.

“Mine.” He echos, teeth gritting.

This time when you lean back, he lets you. A heave of his chest as your fingers drift down, until they slowly circle your clit.

Pleasure throbs but your touch is more for show, for him, letting him watch as your fingers split - framing where he sinks into you. That steady thrust starting to stutter, the only unsteady thing about him.

“Tell me you want it.” That harsh, pleading tone is back.

“God, I want it.” Your teeth sinking into your lip, before you sigh sweetly, “Please, daddy.”

It catches him off guard like you knew it would, his eyes darkening. How you offer up a piece of yourself like a tempting piece of fruit - how you would burst so sweetly on his tongue if he were to sink his teeth in.

“Only me, yeah?”

Only him.

He knew it was true. A hushed confession in the late night hour - a warmth in your cheeks as your face rested against his bare chest. Rising and falling with his steady breath, tender feelings betrayed by the flutter of his heart beneath your ear.

“I haven’t called anyone that before. Only you.”

“Only me, hm? Then perhaps you should let me hear it again.”

“Yes, daddy. Always-” One of your hands slips from the table, entwining with his, “I want you to come in me. I want to feel you, too-”

He comes with you begging for it.

A rough grunt paired with the rutting of his hips, until they press flush against you. Little shallow thrusts, keeping himself buried deep as he spills inside you - the last dregs of his jealousy swept along with the sharp burst of pleasure.

Leaving Alfred feeling foolish, a throbbing ache in his chest that matches the galloping of his heart.

You’re always so good to him. Thighs tightening against his hips, keeping him inside until you’re sure he’s been milked dry - until the throbbing twitch of his cock has ebbed.

He pants a breath, fingers still wrapped in yours. Wrinkling the fabric as his hips press flush with yours, keeping himself buried in you for another long moment.

Your mind always runs away with you.

Imagining slipping your panties down your thighs. Thinking how pretty they would look as a pocket-square - or tucked beneath, right against his heart.

Instead, he groans as he slips from you. A slow smile, as his lips brush yours, as you slump back fully against the tabletop.

You’re sure you look debauched - the dim light leaving you glowing, after your orgasm.

The straps of your dress slipping from your shoulders, skirts hiked up to where he has your panties still pushed to the side.

His fingers drifting across where you still gape from him, for just a moment. A look crossing his face that is almost smug, if he could be - before he’s tucking the lacy hem carefully back into place, tugging it snug against your cunt.

“Better?” You ask, breathless. Pushing yourself up, reluctantly starting to out yourself back together.

Relishing in the stolen moment, but knowing the night was not quite over. That it would be a little while longer before you were home - already dreaming about the hands that would wander beneath the warm water of a shared bath.

His fingers press down as he cups you. Grazing against the fabric, where it’s damp with him. Dripping from you and sticking to your skin, now that his cock no longer keeps it inside.

Alfred smiles, as he answers.

“Yes.”

(and then the table was purchased for a sizable donation as part of the “auction” and kept as a beloved souvenir 😌)

thank you so much for reading!! and for giving me an excuse to dive back into them again, it has been missed 💖

#thank you for letting me dive back into them again 💖#please mind the tags!#alfred pennyworth x reader #alfred pennyworth x f!reader #alfred pennyworth x you #alfred pennyworth smut #tw: daddy kink

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thesharktanksdriver · 1 year

Text

Magical Girl in Gotham (Platonic)

Part 1 Part 2 part 4

Sorry for the repeating lines of there are any, it’s tumblrs fault

Tag list: @harpy-space

Mention in the comment if u wanna be tagged for the next part :]

You drift between the world of conscious and unconscious, the Dream world and the waking world

For once you felt yourself dream, seeing the images of all those who had filled your once lonely life with joy

At point in your life you forgot to just sleep, to finally rest and not to worry for the next day

You were always so preoccupied with getting rid of a new batch of Shadowmites the next night or school or rent that sleep felt more like a chore

Wasted hours to be doing something important despite how Rigel told you it was unhealthy to avoid it

So for now you sleep and you enjoy it as you occasionally sense the distant feeling of someone sitting at your side

When you eventually do wake up your met with the sensation of warm blankets (compared to your thin ones) and a hand pressed against your forehead

When your eyes flutter open you see the sight of Jason, surprise in his face as you look up at him

You can’t get a word out before he’s hugging you tightly, mumbling “Jesus don’t ducking scare me like that. Thank whatever god there is that your ok”

He stays that way for a minute and you soak it up, noticing how he was wearing the uniform of red hood but without the mask

It doesn’t really surprise you but it now makes sense as to why you had a vague sense of familiarity when meeting him

That also answered who the rest of the bat crew was

When he pulls back he sees your stare down towards the large red bat symbol on his chest. “I had the feeling you rich people were crazy, but not crazy enough to be vigilantes to be honest. Seems like those online forums were right about you guys not being normal” whatever worry fades away at that comment

His laugh is loud and seems to echo out into the hallway through the opened door, footsteps quickly make their way towards the room

Damien bursts in, an unfamiliar teary look in his normally composed eyes

Jason has barely any time to pull a few feet away before his younger brother is repeating what he had done earlier

Damien’s gripping you as if he was afraid that when he pulled away you’d suddenly disappear

You hug your friend back, noticing the rest of the family peak in and be somewhat agast at the sight

Turns out you have a lot of explaining to do and so do they

Bruce/Batman himself is honestly disappointed in himself that you’d been doing this for years yet he had not even fucking know about it up till now

Even more so that Jason and Dick knew and didn’t tell him that an actual child is running around at night killing mystical creatures

He actually apologies to you personally that he should’ve noticed, but you quickly shoot that down telling him that was kinda what you didn’t want

Like him you set out on this mission to do it practically alone, you never intended to make friends along the way but somehow you did

He now knows why he saw himself in your eyes, you were him when he started off. Someone who was blinded by their goal of protecting others that they did not care for themself

He asks again if your parents know and now you answer honestly

You didn’t have any. You lived alone in a crappy apartment and barely got rent in on time

You see the looks given by all of his sons, how it goes from you to their dad and then back to themselves

After finding this out Bruce probably teaches you some more self defence since you only taught yourself through experience

He’s a good teacher, finding out what your strong suits are and helping you improve rapidly

Your style of fighting is a lot like dancing. Fluid motions and carefully placed steps, turns and pirouettes to dodge, quick attacks that happen within the blink of an eye

Your not like Jason or dick who can take large hits and can brute force their way though things. Your more agile and graceful

Bruce at some point helps make a schedule for you to properly balance your nightly duties and going to school

It’s much better than your own lol

Kinda feels better that most of the villains in this city absolutely love you and would protect you but also kinda worried cause they would literally kill for you

The only villains he actually trusts you with is the Gotham sirens and maybe Waylon on a good day

You’ve cause him to get so many extra grey hairs after hearing what you eat on a daily basis

How do you the energy to run around Gotham every night while surviving on cup noodles?!??

One time y’all appeared at a McDonald’s it was all over Twitter in the matter of minutes cause you have a cute magical girl and then Batman looming beside them as you asked for a nugget meal and ice cream for him

Sometimes he’ll be beating a villain and you’ll briefly stop by and everything is out on pause as you say hi to both

Honestly it’s the funniest thing for bystanders to see especially when you say hi to John or Tim the goon

Your Twitter famous and you don’t even have Twitter

Clark is texting Bruce why “Batman”, “magical girl” and “McDonald’s” is trending on Twitter

Damien is kinda upset at first before realizing that would kinda be hypocritical and now he has more of an excuse to spend time with you

Two besties just chilling on a rooftop of Gotham while Riddler sulks in the background

He definitely gets protective over you even though you can handle a lot of stuff on your own

It’s mostly out of the fear of losing you. You serve as a symbol to him, a sign that his life has changed for the better and he��s truly happy

At first he doesn’t like his brothers hanging around you but comes to accept it. He was just kinda scared you’d like them over him and forget him

Has a constant glare and only you can decipher his actual emotions

Your his translator for poor Gordon. Like Damien says something mildly insulting and then your like “he means to say he likes your tie and you did a good job out there. Keep it up 👍 “

Your his impulse control from threatening people and breaking bones

He probably pressures Tim into making you a com

At some point he tells you about his grandfather and mom. That turns out be a interesting conversation especially when learning there’s just a magical life giving pool somewhere under Gotham

He’s such a little shit to people who make comments about your outfit

He’s tearing down their entire self esteem

God help the poor soul who decides cat calling or making weird comments about you cause it’s on sight for him

Bruce had to hold both him and Jason back from “having a polite talk” with the guy. Bruce does allow glaring and yelling though

Y’all probably become a duo that Gotham Twitter freaks out over

Like, people be now using you two as “bestie goals” and you do a double take when someone mentions it at school

When you once took him over to your apartment he visibly does a double take and asks how you live like this

Brags to his brothers all the time about how he’s your best friend so he’s the favourite (he is)

Ra’s Al Ghul is more confused than Clark when he gets reports his grandson suddenly is seen with that “magic girl?” He’s also gotten reports about and the two of you are building the Lego bonsai set on a rooftop

You got him into Lego and he now has his entire room full of them and boobytrapped

Dick has unfortunately been a victim to this

Jason almost kneeled over and died again out of worry when he had brought you half dead back to the manor

So it’s safe to say he’s very realized your ok and now also basically under the protection of the rest of the family

He may still have some grudges against Bruce but he does admit that he can teach you better than he could in most places

But what Bruce can’t teach you is how to shoot!

Yeah so…he had you use your magic weapon and turn it into a gun form and has you practice with him

Most villains audibly sigh in relief when seeing the two of you together cause that means their chances of a bullet lodged in their side or spine being crushed is better

Takes you on his motorcycle and it’s super fun

He gets you your own personalized helmet even though you can technically make one via magic

Y’all quote so much shit from books that Tim has begun to catalog it

Scary dog privileges number 3

Sometimes while on duty he’ll stop by at a few cute looking stores and buy you stuff he thinks you’ll like

You don’t tell him you have more than enough pens as he gifts you one with a cute topper

He swears to god if that fucking clown even breaths near you he’s dead and there’s nothing Bruce will do to be able to stop him

Damien would cheer on in the background if that happened

He kinda helps Damien realize and process that it’s ok for you to have other friends and that they won’t be stealing you away nor will you replace him

Both have a lot of emotional baggage and who better to help unpack that than him

Takes a lot of convincing to do so first

Loves the what we do in the shadows tv show and WILL make you watch it with him cause no one else will…along with rue Paul’s drag race

They say red hood now has a handmade bracket

Dick is so joking about how he and Jason knew you first to Damien and Bruce

100% tries to convince you to have your costume to match his for at least a night , if you do so he’ll be supper giddy and get soooo many picture

Your half convinced he has a scrapbook somewhere from how many photos you’ve seen him snap of Radom moments

He sometimes mentions Barbra Gordon and it’s giving you vibes

Keeps showing up while your trying to have a peaceful dinner at the iceberg lounge, penguin shoo’s him away calling him a pesky bird

He always replies back that “but your the bird here aren’t you?, in the wing-” And almost gets shot every single time

He seems kinda embarrassed when people joke about his dump-truck, whatever that meant. You just assume he fell into one or something and don’t get the actual meaning

By god he tries to keep your innocence in tact. There are so many creeps in Gotham and he does his best to protect you from them

There have been situations he’s covered your ears and sent out death glares that can make some of the worst villains shiver in fear

Might’ve let Jason break a guys arm once cause he kept making gross comments. Never told Bruce about it but kinda knows he’d get a slap on the wrist

Audibly makes a gasp when you use a cartwheel in a battle and has a proud big brother moment while clasping a hand over his heart

While your hunting for shadowmites he occasionally drops by to give you something like a smoothie for energy

Loves talking with you about the juiciest hero drama he’s heard within the week

Your not sure how he learns all of what he heard but he was a way

Will watch whatever show or movie you want no matter what age range it was intended for. Like he will watch pretty cute or sailor moon and get super invested to the point he’s buying merch for both of you

He now has a sailor Venus keychain and a matching sailor moon one for you

Definitely has mock fake lightsaber battles with your magical weapon and his batons

He always lets you win but you don’t need to know that

When this happens he also does the full 9 yards to make his “death” as dramatic as possible

Piggyback rides galore with This guy cause he finds it fun and uses it as some sort of weight training

Speaking of which you and Damian have sat on his back while he does pushups. You and Damien made the logo millennium falcon set

Brice walked in and then walked right back out

That happens more than most would assume

When he has video game tournaments with Jason and Tim, he gets you and Damien to be the referees

What he doesn’t know is that Damien is kinda bias to whoever didn’t annoy him that day

Meaning Dick is kinda on a loosing streak as of late compared to either brothers

Has already begun placing photos of you and the family on the wall

Alfred did a double take when he first saw it but then just smiled and went on with his business

Both you and him help Alfred with cooking

Sometimes he goes to really crappy stores and buys all the cheap bootleg hero figurines

Once they make one of you he’s gonna beg you to make your uniform match it for a night

Dear god he has so many nicknames that some villains are now gonna start mocking him by using them with you

He looked really upset when two face called you one of them and then laughed at how his face scrunched up

Tim buys you a proper phone so he can now text you at midnight lol

Even sets up a Twitter account for your hero persona and its now followed by most villains within the city lol

People now joke that at this point your gonna reform most of them before Batman can

Speaking of jokes he sends you memes constantly. Lien you’ll wake up with at least 2 unread messages from him that are just memes he found

He thinks the funniest are the cursed pictures of his family with shit like “bottom text” or “Sœp”

He’s kinda that guy you can go to talk to about anything cause he will 100% know it even if it’s the most obscure piece of media ever

In his spare time he watches those 5 hour long essay videos for fun as background noise

Please watch documentaries with him, doesn’t matter if their lighthearted or serious cause he just wants someone to watch with him

Speaking of which, if you do this with him he builds the most elaborate pillow forts known to man

Please encourage him to at least get 6 hours of sleep a night,the bags under his eyes are already bad enough

Won’t object if your ask to paint his nails or style his hair. He probably finds it somewhat relaxing especially if you talk to him about something while doing it

He rambled a lot about whatever he’s fixated on at the time, you don’t have to respond but just show him your listening and he’ll feel really happy

Totally brags about getting the feeling you were more than what you seemed lol

He sometimes secretly uses the bat computer to watch Netflix or Crunchyroll and play horror games. He says it adds ambiance to the experience

You walked in while he was playing phasmophobia and he screamed

He once used axe body spray and no one will let him live it down, he has his head in his hands as Jason recounts the story

Everyone dreads April fools cause of him and he’s recounted to you his various escapades

Your favourite is when he programmed the Batmobile’s honk into playing “Barbie girl”

He plays video games with you constantly. Doesn’t matter what game you wanna play cause he will find it

On patrol he’ll text you to see how your doing and if you need either him or anyone else to stop by

Else tells you to stay hydrated despite the fact he’s being a hypocrite

He patrols Twitter somehow while being a vigilante and gives people the ban hammer if he finds them being creepy

There is no mercy from him and they’ll have their account temporarily banned or in some cases deleted

He acts all innocent about it as well

Alfred is honestly just happy your ok and now have their support during your night duties

Like he knows your on good terms with most villains but it still gives him an extra layer of comfort that you know you can rely on them for help

Like mentioned before he already planning your room out before Bruce even signs those papers. He finds out what style of room you’d like, interests, favourite colour and goes to town on that interior design

He still packs you lunches but now he has added more foods that give more energy and protein

Whenever you try to help him out with anything other than some cooking and giving Bruce his tea/time coffee he will deny it

You have enough stress as it is you will not put more on your shoulders

Bakes a lot of fresh sweets with even fresher berries from his and Damien’s secret garden

Whenever you don’t go to Harley’s for getting wounds patched up he does it for you

At this point he’s probably more qualified than 50% if Gotham doctors with the amount of fatal injuries he’s stopped

When Bruce gets kinda worried that you hang out with like 50% of the villains in the city he reminds Bruce of Selina and Talia

That shuts Bruce up real fast

Sometimes at night you catch him doing grocery runs, you help him carry bags back to his car

He sometimes talks about his family, growing up and watching as things rapidly advanced from that of his childhood

It’s pretty interesting, especially considering the batcave is filled with super tech that would go for millions

Once again your half convinced he’s some sort of immortal/god in human form with the amount of patience he has

Along with the fact he somehow balances cleaning an entire mansion and batcave

How he does this no one knows

God help anyone who gets on his bad side cause he’s pulling out the umbrella to teach them proper manners

Example, the guy who thought it would be a good idea to heckle you about wearing a skirt

That man is scared to walk the night knowing he’s still out there

Eventually one night as you made your last rounds across the city and said hi to Waylon along with drop by the iceberg Lounge you end up back in the batcave

It’s peaceful as usual, even as you go up to Bruce who has his mask pulled off with a soft smile

He holds out a paper, pen in his other hand that he offers to you

You nod with a smile and take it, signing your name down on it

Gotham is definitely in a stir when everyone wakes up to the news that Bruce Wayne had adopted a new child

Bruce got at least 1 individual call from each justice league member

#platonic #damien wayne x reader #dc x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #magical girl y/n #Batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #time drake x reader #Alfred pennyworth x reader

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book-place · 1 year

Text

Twice Cursed

Warnings: mentions of death and curses, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Batfamily x reader platonic

Request: Hello!! Can I pls request a batfam x ghost! reader (yes, again). You had died about 10 years before Bruce was born so you've been there for quit some timeYou've never hurt anyone (atleast not intentionally) so they let u stay. You're shy and youve never talked above a whisper so sometimes its difficult to hear you. You also get scared very easily so let's say you're taking you're daily stroll around the manner, humming your favorite tune when all of a sudden, you turn the corner and bump into Alfred. He let's about a small "oh" meanwhile you let out a loud screech and cover your eyes. This took him by surprise since he's never heard you be this loud. You slowly take your hands off of your eyes to reveal a flushed, embarrased, face. "Sorry," you whispered, "that took me by surprise" you said before disappearinginto the walls before he could even sat anything.This had happened again throughout the whole day but instead it was with Jason, Tim, Damian, and Bruce

Request by: Anon

*not my gif*

Summary: You aren’t able to hear as well as normal, and it freaks you out

A/N: I don’t love this, but it’s all I can write rn

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

You were cursed. Well, yes, you were cursed to be a ghost for the rest of eternity with your soul tied to the manor you died in. But you were cursed in a different way because today you kept being taken by surprise.

That wasn’t something that happened very often with you because a not so commonly known fact about ghosts was that they actually had an exquisite sense of hearing. So in reality, you should have seen it all coming.

It first started with Alfred, the butler in the manor that you lived in. The two of you talked more than you did with most of the other ones, him always happy to have a lovely chat with you, who he had known since he first began working in the home.

You had begun a routine many decades back where every morning when the sun was just coming up and all of the curtains were thrown wide open from the windows, allowing beautiful light to illuminate the halls, you would take a stroll and admire its beauty.

Long ago, you had figured out all of the ins and outs of being what you were and had mastered the art of solidifying and un-solidifying yourself on command. It was mainly used when you wanted to grab something or when you actually wanted to walk instead of just floating a couple inches off the ground, like now.

What you hadn’t realized though, was that Alfred was just about to turn the corner at an intersection that you were just about to round as well.

The two of you both realized too late that the other person was there, and you both stumbled back, Alfred breathing out a small, “Oh,” of surprise.

You on the other hand, let out a terrified shriek, falling backwards, your hands flying up to your mouth. Not only were you not used to actually touching a human being- something you didn’t like doing- but you hadn’t heard him coming. Being snuck up on was something that hadn’t happened to you since before your death.

Alfred’s eyes widened for a different reason now, having never heard you speak above a whisper, let out a full blown yell.

“Y/n-“ He tried to speak, but you had already un-solidified and rushed into the nearest wall to get as far away from the situation as possible.

Whenever something was upsetting you, you always went to the attic, one of the only rooms almost never used, just for some alone time to clear your head. And that’s exactly what you did after your last exchange with Alfred until you had calmed down enough to leave once again.

To say that was weird would be an understatement, that had never happened to you before and it was puzzling to say the least.

You shook your head to yourself slightly, trying to laugh off the small error made by you as you walked in your materialized form, only to run into someone once again.

Jason barely budged from the impact, but his eyebrows raised in surprise, “What the-“

For the second time this morning, you let out a shriek, hands flying up to cover your mouth. As you turned on your heel to scurry away once more, you hit someone else, them being pushed back on impact this time.

“Hey, are you-“ Tim couldn’t even finish his sentence before you had pushed past him and disappeared into the nearest wall, leaving him and a very confused Jason behind.

When you returned to the attic, your head was buried in your hands and you shook it back and forth, trying to figure out what was the matter with you, only for you to run into someone- well, two someone’s. Again.

Damian and Bruce both adopted similar looks of shock, as you let another yell slip off of your lips, but this time it was one of frustration, because you yet again hadn’t sensed that they were there.

“Are you alright?” Bruce asked softly.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, pulling your hands away from your face, “You just caught me by surprise.”

Damain raised an eyebrow, “I thought that didn’t happen to you?”

“I guess it does now,” Your voice was still soft as you spoke and you nervously played with your fingers.

The older man smiled softly, “That’s okay, Y/n, it happens to the best of us.”

Your head snapped up to him, “It does?”

He nodded his head, “Jason, Tim, and Alfred were just telling me about how this happened to them, and if that’s the case that means that their vigilante instincts aren’t sharp today.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“You say that you couldn’t hear them coming, but they also couldn’t hear you, which they normally could do.” He explained patiently.

Your mouth dropped open slightly in realization.

“It’s just an off day,” He continued softly.

You nodded your head along, mulling his words over, “Just an off day,” You finally agreed, looking at the duo with a small smile.

Perhaps you weren’t two times cursed after all.

The Superior Robin ❤️- @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @i-writes-things @ladyagagaslefttoe

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gothamitelove · 5 months

Note

General dating hcs for dating Btas Alfred Pennyworth?

He needs more hcs and love

ooh hold on anon youre cooking here (sorry this took so long, i literally just remembered there was stuff in my drafts as well as my inbox)

btas!alfred pennyworth x reader headcanons:

he's a worrier, so please be careful with yourself, god knows he wants you to be

alfred is also a very subtle flirter. Very subtle. a lot of times it'll consist of acts of service or his brand of sarcasm (inside jokes my beloved)

this is a SLOW BURN sort of thing. he's not doing anything to jeopardize what you guys already have unless it's crystal clear that it won't fuck anything up if he does

forehead kisses. all the time babey

he makes sure you're well-fed. all the time. constantly. it's his way of looking after you

he probably likes long walks in the afternoons, holding hands, that sort of thing

you will have to convince him to take breaks for himself. usually he's alright at this- he knows his limits- but when he's worried, he'll take to cleaning, and you Will have to drag him away from that

his love languages are absolutely acts of service and words of affirmation

#asks #alfred pennyworth #btas #dcu #x reader #gender neutral reader #dc x reader #headcanons #alfred pennyworth x reader

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gulnarsultan · 1 year

Note

About your fic where batmom finds a baby on the street, can you make one of how the whole family interacts with the baby? They play with the baby, sing songs, etc. 💗🥺

I think Alfred and Dick will be the first to approach the baby. Alfred takes on the role of grandfather for the baby. It helps the reader a lot in the care of the baby. Dick takes on the role of the baby's older brother. She tries to play a role as much as she can in the care of the baby. Jason is protective of the baby. He is afraid that he will do some harm by taking care of her. Tim is indecisive about the baby. Gradually he gets used to the presence of the baby. She finds all the necessary information about baby care on the Internet. Damian is not happy at first that the baby has arrived. After getting used to sharing your care and love, Damian becomes more friendly towards the baby. He even insists that the baby is his favorite older brother. Bruce strives to be a good father to the baby. She makes time to spend time with the baby. They all distribute tasks at night to sing lullabies and tell stories to the baby.

#dc x reader #batfam #batboys #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #alfred pennyworth x reader #batman family #batmom #batmom x batfam

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tarrensbookmarks · 23 days

Text

Batman

➼ Alfred Pennyworth ‣I'll Be Seeing You by eupheme Invisible Man!Alfred x F!Reader ‣Slip Into Your Skin by stargirlfics Alfred Pennyworth x Black F!Reader ‣The Gentleman by stargirlfics Alfred Pennyworth x F!Black Dancer!Reader ‣Penny For Your Thoughts by eupheme Alfred Pennyworth x F!Reader ‣In Bloom by eupheme Alfred Pennyworth x F!Reader and sex pollen

➼ Bruce Wayne/Batman ‣Iron by stargirlfics Battinson x F!Reader

➼ Jason Todd/Red Hood/Arkham Knight ‣Dark!AK!Jason Todd x F!Reader by nocturne-pisces

➼ Harvey Dent/Two-Face ‣Yandere!Two-Face x GN!Reader by recreationalfanfics

➼ Roman Sionis/Black Mask ‣Morning After by gilverrwrites Roman Sionis x Reader

dividers by saradika-graphics

#batman #alfred pennyworth x reader #harvey dent x reader #battinson x reader #black!reader #tarren reads #fic recs #jason todd x reader #black mask x reader

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1donoow · 10 months

Text

DC REC

PT.2

......

♡ - smut

Most of them are fluff

......

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

batmom

batfam

batsis

bruce wayne

garfield logan

Jason todd

alfred pennyworth

batmom

@batfam-imagines - things batmom has definitely said

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

@morgansunflower - sleep well my precious robin

- busted

@battymommastuff - injury

- hey mom (titan)

- that's my mom (amazonian!reader)

@timetravelassasin - mom us an assassin

@blackcupidangel - motherhood

@bluebellhairpin - video tapes

- what they call batmom

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

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

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

- new beginnings (jason todd)

@dragon-chica - batmom

———————————————————————

batfam

@butwhyduh - ___

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

@kayadrake123 - batboys x famous reader

———————————————————————

batsis

@current-interest-writings - nicknames a family tradition

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

@detectivemarvelingcomics - not your classic vigilante ch.2

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

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

———————————————————————

bruce wayne

@catxsnow - let's have a baby

@ellabxrnes - hypnotist

@invisibleanonymousmonsters - trauma (daughter!reader)

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

@dragon-chica - faithful couple

———————————————————————

garfield logan

@busylickingsatansballs - pretty kitty

@hobiiwan - ___

@gangrenados - ___

- morning hc

@wondergotham - Being Best Friends w/Conner & Gar

@multifandomimaginesworld - dating gar logan would include

@ghostdrafts - gar logan dating headcannon

@kioelo - time

@idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 - you have a connection

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

———————————————————————

jason todd

@ghost-soap - ___

@nightwings-circus - husband-zoned

@iheartdoll - jason todd hc

@cipheress-to-k-pop - curls

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

@veronica-17-hood - ___

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

@katsumox - jason todd headcannon

@rekiilysm - adore you

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

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

@thebisexualdogdad - jason todd dating roy harper's brother

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

- A baby in the family

@kaleidoscopewritings19 - halloween special (black widow!reader)

@yourlocalcringydaydreamer - jason with autistic reader

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

- jason seeing you in a swimsuit for the first time

- jason with baby fever

- jason todd being soft for his girlfriend

- jason loosing the reader in a store

- jason getting babied

- bruce disapproving of reader and jason's relationship until

- jason's reading glasses

- ___(gentle giant!jason)

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

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

———————————————————————

alfred pennyworth

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

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

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tarrenterror25 · 6 months

Note

TARREN 💕 IM SO SORRY I KEEP FORGETTING TO SEND ASKS FOR SPOOPY SEASON

If it's not too late for the Fear Lounge I was hoping for a smol drabble for Yandere!Alfred (for me and C). Make it as dark as you'd like!!

And what spoopy movie you'd recommend to a newbie horror movie watcher! I'm thinkin of dipping my toes into the pool 👀

🕸️ Caught! - Send in a character with a prompt/theme and I will write a drabble for you! (Less than 500 words) 📼 Scary Movie - I'll tell you what horror/Halloween/fall movie I'd watch with you!

Fear Lounge

Hi H!! You made it just in time and oh dear 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

I had a scene thought out for this request, but as I started writing it uh...took a turn and I know you said make it as dark as I'd like, but I'm still worried this is too much 😩 I went with the more obsessive side of yandere 💀 I was inspired by movies like Prom Night (2008) and The Resident (2011). I hope you and C like it!! 💕💕

Yandere!Alfred Pennyworth x (Implied)F!Reader

Tags: stalking, masturbating (male), yandere, mention of dubcon/noncon actions

It’s as soon as Bruce leaves that Alfred does his own moonlighting of sorts.

As the Dodge Charger roars out of Wayne Terminus, Alfred makes his way to his desk in the open concept foyer.

It’s just a few clicks to pull up what he’s looking for; pictures and videos of you from the Wayne Tower security cameras.

Alfred admits he was ashamed for lusting after you, but he’s in too deep now. There’s no going back.

He lets out a soft sigh as he undoes the button and zipper of his pants.

There’s a camera that overlooks directly above your desk at Wayne Tower, during the day he often watches you work. Sometimes he gets a nice view down your blouse depending on the angle you sit at.

Alfred begins to stroke his cock to the sight of you. He’s always such a well composed man, but you, something about you sets him off, makes him…unhinged.

All the things he’s done to get close to you; finding excuses for him to call you, brushing his hand against yours, or insisting you join him on errands for Bruce.

As he touches himself, his other hand retrieves from his pocket a pair of your panties. He couldn’t help looking through your bag that day when he saw on the cameras that you had left your desk. He doesn’t know what possessed him, but he rummaged through your belongings and found the garment and pocketed it.

He strokes his cock faster now. God, he’s so hard from just thinking about how you make him come undone. He imagines that fucking you would ruin a man to pieces. Oh, how he longs to feel you from the inside; wants to rut into you until you’re full of his come. He bets you’d look stunning underneath him.

“God,” he breathes out before bringing your panties to his face and deeply inhaling your scent from them.

He adjusts them in his hand and wraps that hand around his cock so he’s stroking himself with your panties. He uses his free hand to navigate the pictures and videos.

You make him absolutely insane.

His hand moves faster and his breath hitches in his throat.

He wishes he had more courage to approach you in person, but words fail him when he’s around you. You’re so beautiful and his throat tightens when you walk near him; the way your hips move, the scent of your perfume as you walk by, the way your eyes look from under those lashes.

He comes with a sudden gasp and jerk. He releases his spend into your lacy garment, moaning softly as he watches it soak up his come off his cock.

Maybe he should give them back to you like this. You would never know…or you might. He isn’t sure which idea he likes better.

Alfred cleans himself up and looks to the pictures of you on his computer screen.

His gaze slides over to a file on his desk, a file he asked you to bring to him first thing in the morning. You won’t be able to find it and well, he’d be remissed to not help you.

There are soooo many options in my head for what I would recommend as a horror movie if you're just getting into them, but I gotta go with a classic that (to me) feels well rounded enough to introduce someone to horror!

With you, H, I'd watch-!

It is a SUPER fun and neat horror movie. It has some intrigue, supernatural elements, and some blood and guts, but the tone of the movie is very light and spooky rather than doom, gloom, and gore. One of my besties and I have a tradition of watching it EVERY year because it's just a classic. It's got a little bit of everything! Plus, I think there are some scenes you'd really like!!

#fear lounge 2023 #thanks for asking!#alfred pennyworth x reader #alfred pennyworth smut #the batman!alfred pennyworth x reader

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Text

𝒂 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒃𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

give me your thoughts x the gif isn’t mine, divider by @newlips

warning - angst

You watch as Alfred is distracted by Selina’s mum, you don’t know her name, nor do you care. You sip your wine, and your gaze moves over to your brother Bruce, and you see he’s already staring at you with sad eyes, Selina as well. You give them a small smile, feeling as though you’ll break if you try and widen them even more. You clear your throat before getting up, looking at everyone with a fake smile. “Well, I’m off to bed. I hope everyone has a good night.” You grab your glass and bid everyone goodnight before walking off to your bedroom, and you turn the light on. You blink the tears away before heading to your bathroom. You set your glass down and turn the taps on for the bath, and begin to undress.

You strip from your tight clothes, grab your glass of wine and slide down into the boiling water. You sigh and lean your head back, closing your eyes and relaxing. You sip the liquid and rub your forehead with the other hand. Your thoughts were racing. All you could think about was Alfred, causing a headache to form. Your hand moves down, and you run it through the bubbles. You try and let everything go.

You hear footsteps heading toward the bathroom, followed by a knock. You hum a ‘yeah’, and Alfred steps through, his eyes cast somewhere other than the bathtub. “Is there anything you need, miss?”

Your eyes drift up and down his figure, “No, I’m fine, Alfred. Thank you, you may take some time off for the night.” You give him a soft smile as his eyes meet yours before you cast your eyes to face the wall before you, feeling it hurt too much to look at him.

“Very well, and thank you, miss. Goodnight.” He nods, giving you a smile before heading out of the bathroom. He hears you whisper a soft, “Goodnight, Alfred.” Before he closes the door and waits there for a second, he hears a small sob escape your lips, and he desperately wants to open the door and scoop you up into his arms, but he finds that thought and action inappropriate. You’re younger than him, and you’re also his boss. Alfred walks away with so much restraint.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollwork #alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth fanfic #alfred pennyworth fanfiction #alfred pennyworth fic #alfred pennyworth fandom #alfred pennyworth angst #alfred pennyworth au #alfred pennyworth imagine #alfred pennyworth imagines #alfred pennyworth oneshot #alfred pennyworth one shot #alfred pennyworth x you #alfred pennyworth x reader #gotham #gotham fandom #gotham fanfic #gotham fanfiction

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stargirlfics · 1 year

Text

The Gentleman Fic Series Masterlist

an Alfred Pennyworth x Black Dancer!Reader story

Series Summary: Two chance encounters turn into something quite unexpected the longer you spend around a certain Englishman

Series Warnings: 18+ ONLY, set after the events of The Batman film, age gap - reader is mid/late 20’s or 30’s (up to your preference), mentions of stalking/being followed, canon typical violence, death, protective!Alfred, fluff + angst, smut: PiV, oral (both receiving), light bondage later in series, Alfred is a soft dom in this! Light impact play, light choking kink and daddy kink later in series

*reader is written as and described as black in this but anyone is welcome and encouraged to read!

[Series Playlist]

Chapter One - The Gentleman

Chapter Two - Sugar Plum

Chapter Three - After Hours

Chapter Four - Do I Wanna Know?

Chapter Five - Éclosion

Chapter Six - Tremble

Chapter Seven - This Heart of Mine — coming soon!

#amalia writes #the batman!alfred pennyworth #the batman 2022 #alfred pennyworth x reader #alfred pennyworth x black reader #alfred pennyworth x you #alfred pennyworth x woc #alfred pennyworth smut #alfred pennyworth fluff #tb!alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth imagine #alfred pennyworth fanfiction #alfred pennyworth x fem!reader #alfred pennyworth angst #alfred pennyworth fanfic #alfred pennyworth

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eupheme · 4 months

Text

— i’ll be seeing you | part ii

[masterlist] | [playlist] | [part i]

invisible man!alfred pennyworth x f!reader

rated e - 6k

tags: invisible man!au, age gap, holiday fluff, light angst, alfred is fully invisible/silent to reader, shared spaces, mutual pining, magical elements, holidays and christmas, blink-and-you'll-miss-it pennywayne, use of alcohol, references to masturbation, kissing

Your time in the Tower with Alfred passes. And even with some secrets revealed, you're still left wondering. Curious - filled with an eagerness to help, to make yourself useful. Finding yourself reaching out. Touching. Believing.

"Bruce is infuriating," You huff, your arms crossing as you lean against the open doorway. "You know that?"

It had been impossible to sleep, as you turned those texts around in your mind.

Trying to read between the lines, knowing how words could twist. Considerable time spent delving deep into the bowels of the internet. Pulling up as much as you could about sorcerers and curses.

Most dismissed as myth.

But then again, most people did not live in Gotham.

The back of your hand scrubs across your eyes, the morning light feeling too bright with his bedroom curtains pulled back, "I asked him last night like you said, but I couldn't get a straight answer. Has he always been this way?"

There's no reply. Silence lingered like it usually did, your lips dipping into a frown. Until there's a touch at your back and you're pressing against the doorframe - letting a pile of linens pass from behind.

Watching as they are set onto the open self in the closet, before the pen is lifting off his bedside table. A quick note, torn free from the pad before it's passed your way.

You have no idea.

There's humor in his words - you can't help but smile, as you read them.

"I want to help you."

You're still looking down. Twisting the paper between your fingertips, before finally looking up, "What have you tried?"

It takes a while for an answer. The usual quick scratch of his pen now slow - hesitant. Tearing a sheet off before beginning again. You have to resist the urge to peek over his shoulder, fingers curling into fists to keep yourself in place.

Finally, his reply.

We have tried everything.

The Waynes had a lot of connections. And I am still the same. I did not tell you so you could take this upon yourself. I told you so that you could understand. There's much that I am unable to speak about. I had hoped Bruce could.

But I should have anticipated this.

An ache radiates from your chest, as you quickly reread. A swell of emotions threatening to burst, as you glance up - into nothing.

"What if I want to?" There's a burn in your throat, in your eyes. It's embarrassing how quickly you've become invested, you wished you could make him understand, "It's not fair, Alfred-"

Hands touch your arms. Fingertips sliding from shoulder to bicep, the movement soothing. A deep breath loosening the feelings that choke you - a hand lingering as you hold the pad for him, as another note is written.

Life rarely is.

You've done more than enough already.

"I haven't done anything," You protest, your voice pitching up, "Please let me-"

There's a weight against the pad you hold. A line scored beneath the last sentence, for emphasis. Your eyes linger on it, until the words unfocus. Trying to understand what you've been told.

That maybe… you were being foolish.

What could you possibly offer, when near-limitless resources and money had already been at their disposal?

The tension leaves your shoulders, as you wilt.

He leaves you with one more. His hand curled around your shoulder, softly squeezing.

Thank you for worrying about me.

The paper stays crumpled in your hand, as you slip back to your own room. Needing the space, trying to respect the gentle dismissal.

To remind yourself that this must run deep for him. It's been hours that you've thought about this, but for him - it's been years. You should not push.

And so - for now - you won't.

But you won't forget.

Days later, you wake to frost on your windows.

Spider-webbing from the cold, arching iron - muting the dark shadows of the cityscape outside. It creeps inside, across the hardwood floors that bite at your toes, before you're wrapping up.

Feet tucked inside the shearling slippers left outside your door. A thoughtful and practical kindness, fitting for the bits of him you've been able to piece together.

A thick sweater is layered on, then soft sweatpants. Today, you're sure to be kept inside, and you've long since given up on standing on ceremony.

It's later than your usual. Inspiration striking just as your eyes closed. The night spent writing down what you could, lasting until the inky black turned a watery gray. The sun has been up for hours, though there is no warmth to it. Not in Gotham.

The kitchen is quiet when you arrive. A slight pang of guilt when you see the coffee mug sitting out next to the empty french press.

It feels so strange - how quickly a routine has formed. It still felt unreal, something that you still did not quite believe. Never thinking you'd find yourself looking for someone you couldn't see.

Even now, your eyes scan across the kitchen - as if his form would appear. Hands busy as you fix an afternoon breakfast, though your mind wanders.

The rejection had lingered. Throughout the evening after you had talked. Another sleepless night gathering information.

Even finding articles about those who had been cursed, though they had all seemed senseless in their intent. Cured, once Faust had been locked away, the magic fracturing until they were released.

There was something different, here. Something Bruce knew that you didn't - still unable to coax it from him. Days were starting to pass too quickly, but there was still time.

You still had hope, even if it seemed like they didn't.

Relief comes when there's that phantom brush at your shoulder. A "good morning", in not so many words. A kettle moving to the stovetop, the fire clicking on.

Alfred gets your coffee ready for you, as he always did. Knowing how much you enjoy it - the warmth, the boost - drinking nearly as much as the cups of earl grey he brews.

You had protested, at first. But it had been a mimicry of your first meeting. That hand at your elbow, guiding you back to your seat. A firmness in the way he tucked your chair back against the table, back in front of your screen.

You had relented.

The pen lifts as you both wait, ink scratching against paper. Your shoulder bumps into something solid, as you lean over to read.

You're up late today.

A yawn cracks your face, at the reminder. It's closer to evening than morning, now.

"I had an idea for the ending, just as I was going to sleep. I knew if I didn't write it down, I'd forget."

A moment, as the kettle is lifted.

"Sometimes I think I work better at night. When everything is just... quiet. Does that make sense?"

That seems to be common around here.

The thought makes you smile.

"Yeah?" You ask, "Is Bruce a night owl?"

The pen scratches, after a pause.

Something like that.

The coffee warms you, fighting the swirl of flakes outside, the moan of the wind. Radiating outwards as you lean against the counter,

"What are you up to today?" You try to ask it idly, a fork spearing another bite of your meal. Always interested in how he spends his time in this old house. Alone without Bruce, except for his memories.

I thought I would bring some of the decorations out. I've been putting it off, but it is December.

"Decorating? For the holidays?" The prospect is exciting - you're already picturing silver stars hanging from the arched doorways. The pure height of a tree that would fit in their open foyer - with its tall, pointed ceiling, "Do you both celebrate?"

For a second, he does not answer. The pen shifting on the counter, his answer with slow, neat letters.

I do.

The singularity of his answer has a pit forming in his stomach. Is it an old tradition? Kept from the days before - an attempt at familiatry, received by a boy that rejects it? Or was it only for him?

Bruce’s trip is open-ended, you both know that. That his offer to you had extended through the beginning of the new year, but the date of his return had not been set.

You find yourself thinking that Alfred still wishes. Hopes that he’ll make it. Wanting to have the Tower ready, just in case.

The words come again without thought, "Can I help you?"

You've written enough for now. An ache in your elbows from the way you hunched over your desk all night, trying to get it all down.

A pause - and you half-expect him to refuse again. But there's a touch to your shoulder, two gentle squeezes.

Yes.

It takes more than a single afternoon.

The decoration lasts days - time spent bringing out boxes from one of the deep closets on the second floor. Sorting out garlands to drape across the fireplaces. Wreaths and candles and boxes of ornaments in glittering shades of black and silver, crimson and gold.

Remnants from another time, each with their own story.

You wonder how long they've had them. If Alfred always puts them in the same place, year after year.

Some, you voice aloud. Handing over your phone so he can key a reply.

These are new. Or - We bought these over from the Manor, when Bruce was young.

A yearning left in your chest to hear the stories with his voice - craving every last detail and memory, instead of the short summary. To scratch and peel back that first layer, making a home beneath it.

Perhaps, you will - with time.

You follow behind him when time allows. Tracking the floating boxes down the corridors that have now become familiar. Steadying step ladders as a hand brushes your shoulder for balance, sending your pulse racing each time. Moving back to give a nod of approval when it's hung just right.

The long hallways turn cozy. So much of the blank space filled with care, under Alfred's watchful eye. Some of that military precision and sternness comes out as he made sure every detail was exactly right. Each item in order, as they should be.

There's a sense of accomplishment in seeing the boxes slowly empty. Ella Fitzgerald and Dean Martin serenading away the hours, their crooning voices following the decorating through the Tower.

And in-between these moments, you slip in other kinds of questions. Self-serving ones disguised in these 'getting-to-know-you's. Though you still want know - no less eager for the answers.

"I'm mailing out some gifts this week." You mention, while untangling a string of lights. It was easier to sound casual, when your fingers are working the knots free, "Do you have anything on your Christmas list?"

It's part-genuine, part-segue. Fully intending to have something wrapped and ready for him come Christmas morning, though there’s more than one layer to your question. Ears perking up, as your phone lifts from the table where you sit.

I believe I have everything I could hope for. What about you?

Your eyes scan the message once, twice. A warmth in your cheeks as you find yourself wishing there was a deeper meaning to his answer, before you realize just how little he's really given you.

"Really?" Your head tilts, with a small smile, "Not even, like - a Montblanc or a Rolex, or something?"

He's already answering, amusement lacing his expedited reply.

Is that what you think I want?

And god, you wish you could hear his voice. An ache in your chest, a wish to learn every little inflection. Leaving you wondering how these words would sound, rolling off his tongue.

“No.” You eventually manage, with a little shake of your head, "I don’t think so. You’re too practical.”

He would never ask for anything so luxurious. Even if he deserves nice things.

The phone stays still, and your fingers twist. Eventually asking what you really want to know.

"What about in general? If you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?"

You're sure the answer sounds stilted, out of place. Too obvious, in your intent. But you can't help it, this chance - a hope that he will give you something to work with.

There's a long pause at that. Your heartbeat feels too loud, and you're hoping he'll take your bait. Bruce's words replay in your head, as you resist the urge to cross your fingers for luck. Alfred doesn’t know what he told you, he won’t know what you’re really asking.

From what we've gathered, his curse will be lifted when he gets what he wants.

You need to find out what that is.

Foolishly, a small part of you wishes that just maybe... he’d want you. It would be an easy thing to give, because you’re certain you're his already.

The words appear slowly. Written and then erased before you could see. Written again.

I suppose if I could have anything, it would be a piece of home.

But what I would really like is for Bruce to come home safely.

It tempers you, to read this. How much he must worry and care, even though Bruce was just on a business trip.

You suppose that perhaps, you never grow out of it.

"He will." You tell him - reaching out, until you can press your palm against the back of his hand. Halting where he strings thread through the edges of the snowflakes you cut - preparing to hang them in the windows.

The answers are not as helpful as you had wanted. But you still tuck them away. Perhaps with enough pieces, you'll be able to see something they missed.

And in spite of these roadblocks, a part of you still feels lighter than you did when you first arrived all those weeks ago. A knowledge that this break would be helpful - but that you'd be away from friends and family.

But as the evening comes, as you're tucked on one of the long couches with twinkling lights softening the bright glow of your screen, you think you feel... happy. Content.

Not nearly as lonely as you thought you would be, and with that comes a cold twist of shame in your stomach. Thinking about how easy you have it, compared to him. You're willingly confined to the Tower.

Alfred is shackled. His only connection across the sea, left to wander silently if you had not noticed him.

And now... you're only one mere person, but you hope he never feels unnoticed again.

"Can I touch you?"

His eyes round with your words. The innocent, curious edge, though his thoughts swim into something much more indecent.

A second passing, before more words come in a rush.

"I just... I've wondered. “You breathe, your voice soft. “I believe what happened, I've just been curious-"

His hand reaches to soothe your nerves. Your request surely emboldened by the winding down of the evening. The final touches put on the decorations that now flow throughout the Manor.

Ending with the large tree tucked away in one of the alcoves. Sitting together beside it as the last glittering ornaments are added along the bottom.

His back will be aching tomorrow, with all the bending. Surely needing to rely more on his cane than usual - but for now he's content, where he rests on the stone floor.

Your matching cups of whiskey, honey, and lemon already drained, and then refilled. Warming your bellies, making his own mind soft and hazy at the edges.

He thinks you might not have asked, otherwise. Maybe he would not have been so quick to answer - fingers curling in a now familiar way around your forearm, with two soft squeezes.

Yes.

You can do whatever you like, though you do not know it.

If he only has until the end of the month before you leave and forget all about him, then he will bend for you. All those strict and proper thoughts turning malleable with your touch.

Relief blooms across your features. Your smile comes easily, pleased at the indulgence. A little mark appearing between your eyebrows after, as they sweep over him - wondering where to begin - seeing nothing.

He can help you. Guiding your hand to his wrist, giving you a place to start. There's the flit of your fingers as you find his other, dragging his hand down to your knee where your legs criss-cross, twisting until you face him.

"Tell me if I'm doing it wrong, okay?" Your fingers press over his, mimicking a squeeze.

His own answer comes easily.

Yes.

As if you could.

As if his own heart hasn't lurched - taken off without him.

You start at his fingers, pinching them between yours. So much smaller, colder than his, as you traces over the lines of his palm - pressing into the meat of his thumb.

A little smile, as you move to his wrist. His sleeves still rolled up from trimming the tree, in spite of the chill that always seems to permeate the Tower. The loose circle of your hand growing wider the further you move up, over his forearm.

In all these years, he has truly felt cursed. A manifestation of all those worries, when Bruce had been suddenly left alone. Becoming truly as helpless as he had felt, back then. No more than an errant thought.

It had been worth it. The sorcerer’s spell, one that was aimed at Bruce. Something unlike the others, thrown into the streets of Gotham. Devilry in its making.

Manifesting fears and insecurities, biting bone-deep. Plucking and sifting through things so buried, that they were thought to be hidden.

He knew what Bruce would relive. What he wanted, more than anything. Something Alfred wished for as well, in his heart of hearts.

But he also knew it could never happen. The dead cannot return, and in spite of the chasm of regret and pain, he had made some kind of peace with it.

Bruce had not.

Back then, they did not know for certain what the spell did. There just were inklings and clues, in the days before the attack.

It was enough. A determination to push himself to the front, to take the brunt of that blast for a second time. Like he would, a thousand times over. Shielding Bruce from the agony of his memories.

Only to be forgotten. To be rendered invisible and silent - a constant reminder of his own loss, those years after when Bruce had seemed to just see through him.

A sacrifice worth making. And for years, he had born it.

But in these last few weeks, in this moment - he does not completely and utterly despise what he had become. Because he would not have been able to look at you like this, eyes so fixed on your face.

Catching every unguarded expression. The soft shadow of your eyelashes as your head dips, as if you’re trying to make out his form.

You don’t have what Bruce has. He has no way to offer those contacts he developed - Alfred’s form lit up in shades of warped and molten infrared.

But it’s almost as if you’ve managed to make do without.

He tries to resist the stirring - the soft sigh that threatens to break free, as your fingers press into muscle, even if you can’t hear it. Your path tracing over his biceps as he tries to go still, unmoving in your exploration.

Your other hand rises. Twin touches to his shoulders, tracing the edges of his dark vest, finding the tie at his throat. Knotted that morning from instinct and muscle memory - he has not seen his own reflection in years.

You smile, lower lip caught between your teeth - fingers wrapping around the silk.

“You still dress like your photo.”

A hitch in his breath then, to think that you remember what he had looked like. How you say it so plainly and assuredly, as if you’re certain.

Your look turns thoughtful, as you squint at him again, “If I were invisible, I don’t think I’d wear clothes at all.”

Christ.

A visual flickers through his mind before he can help it - fingers clamping down vice-like around your knee.

You squeak, already forgetting what you said - concern swirling across your features, “I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?”

He manages to answer, a much more gentle "No" squeezed into your skin - though you still look worried. Already mourning the loss of your touch, as your hand hover, fingers curling.

Alfred wishes he had words. Anything to assure you that you did nothing wrong, but all he can do it catch your wrists. Guide them back to his shoulders, in silent encouragement.

And here, you go slower. Over the crisp fabric of his shirt collar. The slightest shiver when your hands touch his skin, feather-light against his throat.

The smallest quirk of your lips, as you watch the way your hands hover in mid-air. You could stop here but you don’t - a soft sigh as your touch moves higher, pairing with a soft murmur.

“Just making sure you’re real.”

A thumb flattens over the bristle of his chin, fingertips against his cheek. Over the strong curve of his nose - as if you’re trying to piece him together.

The thought has an ache forming in his chest. A tightening - a low fluttering in his stomach.

Unable the help the slightest lean into your palm. His eyes closing at your touch, the flex of your fingers as they move to cradle his cheek.

It would take nothing to shift his head, to press his lips to your wrist.

But he’s always had a strong handle on his restraint.

Even if you are, have been, testing it’s limits.

There is very little that would make him refuse you, save for requests from Bruce. The ones he’s set in place for himself, ones that you've been so carefully nudging at.

Those he would hold above all else.

He had made a promise to himself that he would never ask, even if he could. Even if his own heart had run away with him.

Bruce had found a loophole some time ago, something he thought would work. But Alfred wouldn’t stoop to manipulation. Not then, and certainly - not now.

Even with your careful prodding. It had not been hard to sense what you had been really wanting from him. The intent behind your questions, the fire in your eyes - how focused and serious your expression had turned, for those brief moments.

With them, there had been the smallest spark.

A flicker of something like hope.

But he would not ask it of you.

If it was meant to be, then it would happen. But it would be on your own accord, not his.

Your lips part, as you lean closer. The slide of your other hand, curling around his neck, the tips brushing where his hair is shorn short. It’s as close to an embrace than he’s had in years, his own breath quickening. A low stirring, at the way your head tilts, the careful focus of your eyes.

As if you could almost -

The grandfather clock chimes, two long notes. Sounding more like a dirge in these empty halls, breaking the tight string of tension.

He mourns the warmth of your hands, as they drop. As you blink, eyes confirming the time. Stifling a yawn, arms bracing on your back in a stretch. A movement that his eyes follow, still caught in that shared moment for a second longer.

"I should go to bed. I need to work a little longer." The smile you give him is shy, sobering up at thought. Pushing yourself to your feet before he can move, scooping up the now-cold mugs.

"Thank you, Alfred."

It's not until you’re gone - when he’s in bed and resisting the urge to slip his hand beneath the sheets, to fist the hard curve of his cock - that he’s realizing…

He's not quite sure what you’re thanking him for.

The television washes the dark room in a pale light, as you idly flip through movies. Tired after a long day - unable to bring yourself to open the email from your editor yet. Surely a mile-long list of changes awaiting you.

Instead, you settle on something cozy, something familiar. The thin blanket stretches out across your lap as your legs curl up, tucking yourself into the corner of the couch.

No more than ten minutes pass before he finds you. His presence announced with the creak of a nearby closet. A much warmer, thicker blanket bundled in his arms.

Your smile soft and thankful, eyes tearing from the screen as if you could see him as he tucks it around you. A warmth and a shyness creeping in, trying to sound casual, "Do you want to watch something?"

A moment, before the cushions on the couch dips. A presence settling next to you, your teeth cutting into your lip as you bite back your smile. Not-so-secretly pleased, that he did. That he wasn't too busy to join you.

Unfolding the edge of the blanket, offering it out to him. Your fingers brushing over the woolen knit of his arm - a sweater, from the feel of it.

Something different, than last time. You've taken to imagining him the same as that little photo. The crisp white shirt and inky black vest, not a single stitch out of place.

"Are you cold?" You're always were, in the Tower. It's something you like - drifting off to sleep under the layers of blankets. Slipping on your biggest and coziest cardigan, while sipping a warm drink as you work.

Before he can answer, you're slipping from the couch. His own touch snags at the long hem of your own sweater, a soft kind of protest. One that is ignored, as you head to where the embers in the fireplace glow - the logs you threw on at lunch no more than ash.

"You work too hard," You comment, stacking in more. Enough to last the length of the movie and then a little longer, "You just stay there, alright?"

It's not as neat as he does it. The fire licking at your fingers as you light the match - almost dropping it. Tucking it in with the kindling, hands cupped around your mouth as you blow the embers back to life.

Making sure you're satisfied, that the warmth has started to curl into the tower, before you head back. The movie a quarter-way in now, the second time the main characters are meeting. Time skipping forward - an awkward reunion and one-sided reminisce on a shared flight.

"Do you want me to pick something else?" You ask as you sit down - no longer planning to tuck into the corner, accidently overestimating the amount of space.

A soft collision of your shoulder into a broad chest. Your thigh pressed snugly against his - your cheeks burning as you shift to the side.

An apology slides from your teeth - a deprecating comment about how clumsy you are, as he tugs the blanket from beneath you. The brush of an arm against yours as it's moved to cover your knees.

A hand finding that space before, when you sat in front of him - mapping his features. Curling around the curve of your knee, over the blanket. Another soft squeeze, one that oh-so-subtly pulls you just a little bit closer. Bridging that small gap you had created.

No.

Something had changed then, you think. More than just an exploration, when he had let you know him with your touch. A mutual testing of the water, with the way hands had begun to linger, for conversation.

It takes you another twenty minutes to be brave. The movie passing with your unseeing eyes. Glancing his way on instinct during the double-date that goes wrong - forgetting for a moment that you won’t catch his expression. Meeting only open air, instead.

Finally, slowly, letting your arm tuck under his. Finding the curve of his elbow, fitting yourself against his shoulder. He lets you - loose-limbed in your grasp. Settling his hand over your wrist, fingertips brushing against the patch of skin above the cuff of your sweater.

"It's one of my favorites," You comment - a stream of your thoughts, something that has now become routine. Filling the silence with your words, because he cannot, "Do you like it?"

The two squeezes come quickly. His hand warm, large, against your wrist. Another inch or so higher and a small twist, and his palm would be pressing to yours.

But, it doesn't move.

And neither do you, when the movie ends. When the next begins automatically - another romantic comedy.

Content, to take this moment. Forcing your mind not to run wild - to soak in the tangible feeling of Alfred next to you. The warmth of the room tugging at you.

Eyelids slowly drooping as the night creeps in. Your head coming to rest against his shoulder, cozy and safe where you sit - wrapped in blankets and tucked between him and the plush arm of the couch.

It's chilly again, when you wake. No longer evening, the hours tipping towards dawn. The space next to you now empty - your head cushioned with a plush throw pillow. Blankets carefully and thoughtfully layered to cover you.

But it's still warm, when your hand runs over it. Still retaining his heat, from where he watched over you.

From where he had stayed.

Alfred is relieved when he hears the chime of the elevator. He doesn’t trust Gotham drivers even when the sun is shining - much less when all the rain turns into sleet and snow.

You’d been gone all afternoon. Something about picking packages up for Bruce and an errand, pairing it with a little smile that he barely caught - before you were whisking out the door.

There’s plenty to do, but he can’t help but worry. He’d gotten used to the music you play, your questions, your presence - the Tower seeming so empty without them. That dull ache in his chest turning into something closer to longing, in the days between their night under the tree. His assuredness that he was perhaps, reading into things, lessening with the memory of you pressed so close against him as the movie played.

Perhaps it’s lucky they’re so far up - or he’d have to resist the urge to check the streets below, to see if you were returning.

Snowflakes cling to your hair, your coat, as the doors finally open. A box branded with Wayne Enterprises tucked under your arm, patterned bags trapped between fingers.

His heart twists when you call out for him, and he has to pause - to wait a few moments, as to not look too eager - before he’s taking Bruce’s package from you. Setting it on the bench near the doorway as you toe off your boots.

You hold the bags close, a smiling protest when he tries to take those, next.

“No, I’ve got these,” You coax, “It’s a surprise-”

Instead, he reaches for your coat. Fingers curling around the collar, as you carefully twist to free yourself.

Your head tilting back with the roll of your shoulders. The fabric slipping down, as you go still in his arms. Eyes fixed somewhere above, in the lush garland that strings across the entryway.

His own travel upwards, and he sees it - that rich green and red sprig, just as you murmur the word.

"Mistletoe."

Your eyes drop back down. In the past weeks, it's like he's become properly orientated in your mind. Your gaze meets his more often now than they miss.

He doesn't remember putting it up. The plant woven into another piece of greenery, something they must have missed. Or arranged without thought, in the excitement and haste to move into the next task.

It's not the mistletoe from the Manor. That was lost years ago, in the move to the Tower. A recollection of how Bruce would run to the door, scooped up in his father's arms. A squealing shriek with the bristle of a mustache, pressed against a chubby cheek.

How Alfred might find a stolen moment himself there, later. Afterwards, in the dark.

And when he looks now, at your expression. The pretty part of your lips, your breath held in your chest - he thinks he's quite ready to make some new memories, here.

Because he knows the look. One he's seen before, the way your hands grip onto him just a little more tightly. It matches his own, a near-perfect reflection.

Halting your soft, rushed murmur of "We don't have to, it's just-", the words dying on your tongue as his hand moves up, palm curving around the back of your neck.

Just another small indulgence. A quick brush of his lips, and that will be enough.

You melt, with his touch. Going soft and pliant, the smallest tug that coaxes him closer, just as your eyes slide shut. Waiting.

He admires for only the briefest moment, before he moves. The careful duck of his head, unable the help the quick inhale - toasted vanilla and the sharp bite of winter - before his mouth touches softly to yours.

You make the prettiest sound - a strangled gasp that catches in your throat, as your lips part. An encouragement he needs no coaxing to take, as he draws you unconsciously closer.

His own groan a rough echo as you let him deepen the kiss, sighing into his mouth as your palms slide up his chest to cling to his shoulders.

You’re sweet against his tongue. Where it dips against your lower lip, and then against yours, as you meet him. Another moan and it’s enough to make him forget - to loosen his grasp on that tight tether around his own neck.

A step forward has your back pressing up against the wall. A rattle as the coat rack catches against your shoulder, wobbling.

Neither of you notice. Your hands slipping against the soft velvet of his hair, anchoring yourself to him.

His left hand touching down against your side, sliding up to waist and ribs. Crushing himself against you as if it will save him from drowning.

It’s when his hips cant forward - a jerking, needy grind of his stiffening cock against the soft curve of your hip. One that you match against the thigh that’s pressed snug between yours - that he catches himself.

He's lost control.

Eyes cracking open, growing wider as he pulls away.

Leaving you panting and sagging against the wall - coat slipped from your shoulders and pooling at your elbows. Delicately mussed, lips swollen from the eager press of his mouth.

You don't know what you're asking for.

If they've been wrong, if there's no fix for this life he leads, then it's no way for you to live. He's been horribly selfish, to let things go on the way he has. Reason overridden by his heart and hope.

He had not realized how deep his feelings had gone, until it had taken everything to pull himself away. Leaving him with the soft echo of his name as he leaves - slipping back into shadow.

But you don't pursue. Perhaps you're afraid as well - the lid that will be impossible to close, once fully opened.

He paces in his room, later. Replaying the moment, as his hands work. A message keyed on his phone, only to be erased.

Keyed again. And again.

He could not say if you were still awake. Your schedule behind the closed door of your room was something unbeknownst to him. If only he had the words - real, physical, tangible words, maybe, he would explain.

I did not mean to take advantage of the moment. Forgive me.

It's one of the only texts he's sent you. Something unspoken and agreed about their time spent together. Content with the intimacy of the touches and notes, of sharing your phone.

The screen has only just dimmed before it's lighting up again. The vibration in his palm with her reply.

Not just words. There's a photo attached - an image of the kitchen. His spot, from the angle. One of the bags you were carrying arranged carefully. A tag with his name dangles from the handle, in careful script.

Just a single, short sentence below.

I wanted you to.

He stares at it for a long time. Scrolling back up to the photo. His feet taking him there, though the silent halls, without thought.

It's pretty. A red and gold striped bag, white tissue paper spilling from the top. Something written on the tag as he examines it, flipping it around.

It's not home, but I hope it's close. Merry Christmas, Alfred.

It's signed "Yours", with your name in script beneath. He can't help but think about you writing this alone, after he left you. How unchanged, you were.

And carefully, after a long moment, his hand dips inside. Pulling out two wrapped rectangles. The paper peeled away to reveal wooden frames, the carved pattern along the edges reminiscent of the details in his study.

His photos tucked inside. Ones had held so dear, until the edges had faded away. Carefully preserved, his eyes lingering on their faces as his thumb traces along the stained wood.

The rest drawn out. Unwrapped, though he recognized the patterns, the logos, from a long time ago.

A tin of his favorite tea. A wrapped package of biscuits.

He'd only mentioned it once. In those early days, paired with a lament that he could not get them here. That he had searched, but given up some time ago. No more than an offhand remark - a single line scratched amongst a dozen others exchanged that day. Something he never thought would have been remembered.

And after everything, he can’t help but smile - as something inside him loosens. Cracking, at the edges.

Tucking the items back inside, before he's pushing himself from the table.

He has somewhere to be.

ahh thanks for reading! 💖

#alfred pennyworth x reader #alfred pennyworth x you #alfred pennyworth x f!reader #alfred pennyworth fan fic

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