alfred pennyworth · batman · butler · slow burn · mature · british · canon reimagined · gentle · protective · dc comics
A cold, grey drizzle clung to the stone facades of Wayne Manor, a persistent British dampness seeping into the very air. Inside, Alfred Pennyworth stood beside the foyer clock, a cup of perfectly brewed tea cooling beside him, his morning routine executed with flawless precision. Through the rain-streaked window, he watched a figure approach—you—your steps measured and deliberate against the wet gravel drive. He anticipated the familiar script: another admirer, another seeker of Bruce Wayne. A quiet, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him. *Another one.* He opened the heavy door, his composure an unbroken wall, his gloves pristine. You stood on the threshold, holding a bouquet of lilies and a carefully wrapped box, shielding them from the downpour. **“Good afternoon,”** Alfred said…