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sadtrainnoises · 1 month ago

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I ONLY THREW THIS PARTY FOR YOU

Great Gatsby AU, Bruce Wayne x Clark Kent

TW: drinking, partying, internalized homophobia, light angst

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It started as a light curiosity. Bruce rarely concerned himself with the dealings of the other heroes, but it started to annoy him that Superman kept doing interviews with this one specific reporter at the Daily Planet.

It was only a light curiosity. Nothing to lose sleep over. Nothing to brood on. Just a lingering question like a wisp of smoke, sometimes transparent and sometimes as dense as a cloud, but it followed him. Like a curse.

That must be it, a curse. This Clark Kent, this nobody, this random guy from Kansas who just so happened to have a pretty face was always interviewing Superman. Bruce scoffed as he read the latest article about Superman saving a small town.

Once again, Superman had done an interview with this reporter. Right after. Were they lovers?

Bruce shook his head. It's not like it matters....but if it did matter then he would tell Superman that its reckless to be dating a reporter. How could he trust this guy? They must be a thing... Bruce concluded.

Which is fine. Completely fine. Bruce repeated to himself like a prayer. As if trying to reassure himself.

But no matter how many times he repeated those words in his head, his chest still felt tight. Was it jealousy? Envy? Bruce could have anyone he wanted...any woman he wanted. Men were different.

He never really cared about people romantically. Maybe it was side effect of never being taught how to love properly by his late parents, but he figured no one would be good enough for him. Or rather, that he would never be good enough for anyone.

And yet, here Superman was flaunting his relationship without a care in the world. As if he wanted to get found out. As if he didn't care. Why doesn't he care?

Bruce never learned how to truly depend on anyone, and maybe that was another reason why he hated the idea of a stable relationship. He had many flings, of course, to keep up his image as a desirable playboy billionaire. It was just to keep up appearances, he never felt anything for any of those women. If anything, he felt bad for them, hoped that they expected nothing out of him.

Clark was handsome. At least he has good taste. But Superman could have anyone in the world and yet he chose a reporter from Kansas. What made him so special?

That's when the Galas started. Bruce always did a few a year for charity events, but all of a sudden Bruce was inviting everyone who was anyone to a Gala every month.

His first plan was to just get an exclusive interview with this Clark Kent but every time he tried the Daily Planet had someone else do it. He couldn't overtly ask for Clark, that would be too much. People would start questioning his intentions. He needed it to be natural. Organic.

A meet-cute at a Gala called to him like a lighthouse. A blinking fortress reminding Bruce that he was so close to land. All he needed was for Clark to come. But the paper never sent him.

Each Gala, Bruce would request that there would be a reporter there to write about it. The Daily Planet was happy to go...for the first 10. After that it started to feel excessive and they weren't sure if this was somehow a cry for help or as a way for Bruce to prove to people just how much money he had.

Bruce never centered him about money or extravagance like that. At least not to the public. And here he was spending millions of dollars on large lavish parties with ice imported from Norway, wine imported from Italy, etc. Each glass was expensive crystal and the drinks and food were always overflowing. The most popular musician of the month would headline the party.

And in the center of all of this was Bruce, smiling, thanking everyone for attending his party. Though, he was hard to find once the parties started. No one knew exactly where he went. There were some rumors that he was doing drugs or sleeping with women. Or maybe getting blackout drunk.

But the truth came in the form of him with his head in his hands, wondering why Clark still hasn't come. At this point, it had to be personal. He even tried to personally request an interview with the reporter but he was busy with an interview with Superman.

He stared at the crystal champagne flute on his desk. His rage boiled over as he flung the flute, making it crash against an expensive painting that Bruce couldn't care less about.

What was so special about this guy? What was so special about Superman?

Alfred silently picked up the pieces of the broken flute. Alfred had already advised Bruce many times against these parties, against trying to lure in the reporter. Though Bruce never voiced exactly why he was obsessed with the man, Alfred had his suspicions.

Finally Bruce cracked, he made it so that the only reporter available to come to the next Gala was Clark. Everyone else was either sick, busy, or dealing with an emergency.

He would finally reach land. Reach the lighthouse. Reach this blue-eyed pearl.

---

Clark didn't want to go to the party. He didn't like the obnoxious displays of wealth. And for some reason, Bruce Wayne kept wanting to have an interview with him. It made Clark feel uncomfortable. Why had the billionaire suddenly taken an interest in him? What was his plan?

One by one, his colleagues had something come up. A few were sick, a few were dispatched to other breaking news for the night, and a few had flat tires and couldn't make it in.

Clark wasn't dumb. He knew immediately that this was suspicious. Perry called him only a few hours before the Gala was supposed to start telling him that he was going to have to be the one to cover it. "Do we really need to keep attending? He has one every single month..." Clark droned on.

At first, everyone wanted to go to these lavish parties. But the glitz and glamour get old very fast. Each party bled into the next. The only real difference was the food and the music. Otherwise it was like playing a broken record.

Clark sighed. I guess it's time I finally meet him.

Lines of expensive cars lined Bruce's drive way and the street next to the manor. It might as well have been a car show with how expensive these cars were. And how rare as well. But Clark didn't care about all of these things.

Living in Metropolis meant that he didn't need a car. He could live simply in a nice studio apartment. He could live just like everyone else.

Clark was expecting Bruce to meet him at the door, but instead he was greeted by a song he knew. He didn't even think to check which band was playing. The Mighty Crabjoys. One of his favorite bands.

Clark stilled and looked around for whatever camera must be filming him but there was none. The band wasn't even that popular, especially not right now, and Bruce only paid for the most popular artists.

Well, if anything, Clark could enjoy some good music and some good food. He slowly walked into the manor and saw a bunch of celebrities walking toward a door that led outside. Clark followed, taking note of all the extravagant décor. Ice sculptures, flower arrangements, a photo station.

Staff walked past with small plates of food and drinks. Clark grabbed a drink and slowly sipped it as he stepped outside. The band looked out of place surrounded by the top celebs and a few corporate heroes.

Bottle girls carried bottles of champagne and sparklers. Dancers rocked out to the music while others took selfies.

Clark closed his eyes and reminded himself that it was just a part of the job. That he would just talk to Bruce a little bit and then he'll never have to come to one of these pretentious parties again.

"Do you like the music," a deep voiced asked behind him.

Clark whipped around and came face to face with Bruce Wayne. His smile was infectious, Clark had to give him that.

He didn't hate Bruce Wayne, he actually really admired the guy for all of his charitable efforts. Clark just didn't like people who threw their money away like it was nothing. Mentally, he was wondering how many people could be fed if Bruce instead put this money toward hunger relief.

"Ah yeah it's-uh-one of my favorite bands."

"Oh really? I had no idea. I heard them recently and thought it would be nice to have them here." Bruce looked from Clark's blue eyes and down to his mouth. He took a sharp inhale of breath that would have gone unnoticed to anyone, except Clark wasn't just anyone. He was Superman.

That confused Clark. He knew that Bruce had been trying to get an interview with him and he chalked it up to maybe a slight curiosity. It wasn't exactly subtle that he was the only one that could interview Superman and Clark had many people reach out to him about it and he ignored them all.

"How about-do you want to do an interview? It's kind of loud over here...I can show you to my study," Bruce tried desperately to say without his voice showing any sign of nervousness. Because truth be told, Bruce immediately knew what made Clark special.

It wasn't just his looks, though his looks did help a lot. His fluffy hair that would feel so nice through his fingers. His strong muscles that must have taken months if not years to curate. His black rimmed glasses that perfectly framed his face. His sharp jawline. His plump lips that looked almost kissable-

"Uh," Clark looked around. "Sure. It is not everyday that you get to interview someone...like you."

Bruce's heart fluttered, but he didn't let it show. He couldn't let it show. This was just a small curiosity. He just wanted to know what made Clark special and he figured it out. He saw it in the way the mans eyes lit up when he heard his favorite band. He saw it in his slight smile.

As if the entire world was moving in slow motion and it was just them. Just Bruce and Clark. The billionaire and the reporter.

Bruce led him to his study and leaned against his desk while sipping a glass of wine. Clark looked around the study. It was lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves. It had everything from Plato's Republic to Thoreau's Walden to Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations. And more. Each one a masterpiece in its own right.

"You like to read?" Clark asked as he was inspecting the books.

Bruce swirled the red liquid in his glass. "In my free time. I am a fan of the classics."

"Hmm," Clark hummed as he brushed dust off of the top of a copy of Jane Eyre. "This is quite a collection."

"Yes, well I have a wide variety of interests. What about you, what are you interested in?"

Maybe this was more than a slight curiosity, Clark thought.

"Well I just got a dog so he takes up a lot of my free time," Clark admitted.

"A dog?" None of Bruce's sources mentioned anything about a dog. He was going to need to investigate this later. "What breed?"

"He's a mutt. Not even that 'good' of a dog either. A real ankle biter." Clark pulled out a copy of Wuthering Heights and flipped through the pages.

"What's his name?" Bruce asked, wanting to keep this casual conversation flowing. It felt natural. That this is exactly how life was meant to be. Just two men enjoying each others company. That's all it is...right?

Clark didn't want to lie but he also couldn't tell Bruce that the dogs name was Krypto. "Max," Clark lied.

"Nice name. Once knew a great guy named Max. I think he ran an accounting firm out in Boston."

Clark nodded and shut the book. "So, should we do the interview?"

"Oh." Bruce placed his glass down a bit too forcefully. "Yeah what questions do you have for me?"

"Why did you start doing these Gala's?" Clark asked.

Bruce bit his lip. He never voiced it before. Never admitted why he started. But a part of him wanted to say that he did all of this for him. For Clark. That he wanted to get to know him better. And he needed an excuse for a reporter and him to meet.

"I guess life was getting a bit boring these days," Bruce lied with a smile. He pushed off from the desk and walked over to the window. People were still arriving. Bright smiles on their faces as they saw the grandeur of the manor.

"Hmm," Clark hummed in response. "How do you choose who to invite?"

Bruce didn't care who came to his parties. He just needed to make sure Clark came. He had his assistant send out invitations to whoever would come to a party. Because what's the point of an empty party. He needed to keep up the illusion.

"All I can say is that it's a long process. We invite celebrities, heroes, activists."

Clark nodded. "How do you feel about people calling you out online for wasting money on Gala's?"

Bruce let out a long breath. "I still donate the same amount I always have. The Wayne Foundation is still helping everyone in Gotham and beyond. That hasn't changed."

"But people are saying that the money you spend on these parties could-"

"How about we change the question?" Bruce asked with a smile.

"Okay..."

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a shard of glass. Neither men spoke, just absently staring at each other as if waiting for the other to say something.

"May I ask something off record Mr. Wayne?" Clark asked.

"You can just call me Bruce and sure. I am an open book." Bruce held out his arms as if to further his point.

"Why did you want me to interview you?"

Bruce blinked rapidly a few times, his brain catching up to what Clark had just asked. "Oh well," Bruce grabs his glass of wine and nearly downs it "I saw that you do a lot of interviews with Superman."

"That's true."

"Why do you do so many interviews with Superman?" Are you lovers? Does he hold you at night? Does he whisper sweet nothings into your ear?

"I guess you could say I know him personally. He is a friend of mine." Clark was choosing his words carefully. Lois had warned him that if he kept doing interviews with Superman that people would get suspicious. Maybe he should lay off some of the interviews for a bit. Maybe do a few with Lois or the others.

"Friends," Bruce repeated.

"Yeah I guess he likes the articles I write about him." Clark and Bruce were practically locked into a staring competition. Clark thinking that Bruce was trying to expose him and Bruce trying to figure out whether Clark and Superman are dating. The idea that Clark and Superman could be the same person never even passed through Bruce's mind.

"Well, I guess a reporter good enough for Superman is good enough for me. I was just curious. That's all." Bruce turned back on his charismatic persona.

"Yes, well I will be sure to write a...nice article about...this party." Clark wasn't sure what to say. He didn't like the Gala's but he wasn't about to trash Bruce Wayne. Clark hoped to find out why Bruce started having these all of a sudden, but he knew he probably wouldn't get the real answer out of the billionaire.

"Please do. Though you can write a bad one if you want to."

"Duly noted," Clark walked toward the door to the study. "I'll probably head out. Parties aren't really my thing."

Bruce smiled and tipped his glass. "Sounds good."

The door shut and Bruce stood in silence watching the door, hoping that Clark would come back.

"Get home safe."

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Not beta read

I got this idea after seeing a TikTok of Bruce and Clark set to Charli xcx's party 4 u. Bruce is definitely Gatsby coded.

#prev tags #saving this for later

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sadtrainnoises · 1 month ago

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"nothing is real atoms never touch each other youve never touched anything in your life" ok. well when i pet my dog he is soft and when he licks my hand it is wet and that is far more real to me than whatevers going on at an atomic level

#gonna have to sit down for a minute #totally not crying in the corner

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sadtrainnoises · 1 month ago

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Mother’s Day rolls around and the kids decide to prank their dad by celebrating. They all get Bruce gifts, and surprisingly thoughtful ones, but all of their cards include ‘Happy Mother’s Day, mom!’ in them, and they think they’re the funniest people to exist

The issue with this? Bryce is a trans woman who hasn’t told anyone but Alfred yet

She’s delighted. Emotional. Starts crying every time one of her kids appears to hand her a new gift. Flowers, a ‘#1 Mom’ mug, jewelry, etc. She reads through the cards and cries even more, and the kids are all confused as hell, assuming maybe they’ve upset her but aren’t sure how to apologize, so they let it go

Bryce has been planning what the best time to come out to them is, even consulting Alfred for help. But after this, she assumes they just…know. And it would make sense, she’s raised a family of detectives after all, and while Bryce is sneaky, she doesn’t particularly try and hide the fact that she’s on HRT or has been playing around w more feminine/gender neutral styles. So she doesn’t think an official announcement to the family is necessary anymore

Cut to when she does make an official statement to the Gotham public. Her city is supportive. Her kids? Not…angry, but definitely not happy either.

“When were you gonna tell us? That’s so messed up, B!”

Bryce stands there awkwardly. Her kids are grouped up in front of her with an assortment of expressions ranging from hurt to disappointed. She looks at all of them

“I thought…you knew?” She says softly.

“How would we know if you never said anything until today!” Tim’s arms are crossed over his chest as he glares at her. “A public announcement without even telling your family? Do we mean so little to you?”

Duke shifts from one foot to another. “I understand it’s a hard thing to come out w. Did you think we wouldn’t support you?”

Jason is just straight up glaring, while Cass has a thoughtful expression on her face. And then her eyes widen.

“Mother’s Day,” she says, and everyone turns to look at her in confusion. “We gave you Mother’s Day gifts. It was meant as a prank, but you…” She trails off.

Everyone is quiet and Bryce feels even more awkward. “A prank?” She asks. Keeping the hurt out of her voice is surprisingly difficult. “Oh.”

All at once, the kids start talking over each other. It’s a mix of apologies and further accusations. ‘I’m sorrys’ clash with ‘why would you assume?’ and Bryce wants nothing more than to run away from this whole thing. She’s exhausted and she feels stupid.

So, she does run. Not literally, but she excuses herself from the room and when someone tries to follow, most likely Dick, she can hear Alfred stepping in to prevent them.

“Please provide Miss Bryce with some space for now.”

Bryce ends up locking herself in her office for the rest of the day, only comforted when Clark appears at her window w a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a warm smile.

“Mind letting me in, Miss Wayne?”

#OMG #i love this #saving this so i can draw her!!#ahhhh!!

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sadtrainnoises · 1 month ago

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Random superbat idea I had at work today!

A middle school pen pal, au thing

The private middle school in Gotham is conducting an Agriculture unit in science and has teamed up with a school in Smallville, Kansas, to pair students with pen pals to discuss the topic. Bruce and Clark end up pen pals. Bruce isn’t entirely into the idea of writing to some random kid about agriculture, but eventually the kindness of Clark charms him. Somehow, after they realise how much they enjoy communicating, they exchange actual addresses. They spend the rest of the school year writing to each other about their classes and extracurriculars. One day, in Clark’s letter to Bruce, he tells him how one of their cows is pregnant with twins and how excited he is. In Bruce’s response, he says how cool that is and how he’s never seen a live cow. In the next letter, Clark asks if Bruce would want to visit the farm and see the cows. To Alfred's surprise, Bruce excitedly asks Alfred if there is any way they could visit the Kents’ farm. After getting the phone number of the Kents and talking to Ma and Pa, Alfred lets Bruce visit the farm. One month after deciding they visit the farm, Clark sends Bruce a letter telling him that the cow gave birth to the twins and that they are healthy. Bruce is immediately ready to visit the farm and see the cows. They get to the farm two days after the letter is sent. Alfred accompanies Bruce on his visit, bringing the Kents some baked pastries. The boys are excited to finally be meeting each other in real life; they had sent photos in their letters, but actually meeting was something different. The boys run off to find the twin calves as the adults talk. They find them with their mom in the barn. Bruce cautiously approaches one of the calves. It licks him along the side of his face, and Clark burst out laughing after seeing how Bruce's hair is now standing tall on that side of his head. The other calf does the same to Clark, and then it is Bruce's turn to laugh. The two spend the rest of the afternoon hand feeding some of the cows, and Clark shows Bruce some of the farming stuff and talks about how their usual day goes. After some time, they are called back for refreshments. Ma Kent makes an off comment about how beautiful the sky is out here. Bruce gets excited and begs Alfred to stay to see the stars come out. And Clark also asks his parents if Bruce can stay to see the stars. Everyone agrees that the boys can go star-gazing. Once the sun starts to set, they go out with a blanket and head over to a small hill on the Kents' property. They spend an hour pointing out different constellations and talking about the stars and space. Eventually, Alfred calls out for Bruce as they have an afternoon plane to take the next day. The boys sit for a moment, Bruce reaches over to Clark and kisses his cheek, before getting up and running to Alfred. Clark, a little dazed and flustered, calls after Bruce, “I’ll write you when you get home!”

#superbat #clark kent x bruce wayne #clark kent #bruce wayne #dc comics #sorry for the wall of text #i had to get out all the words as fast as possible #this idea came to me at work #should i make this as a proper fic #???#maybe

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sadtrainnoises · 1 month ago

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superbat western drabble bc i headcannon bruce being a very good rider… on horses of course…

—————

“You’re not from round here.”

“No, sir, I am not.” Clark tips his wide-brimmed hat as a greeting. The first thing the traveling cowboy noticed from the mysterious stranger was his all black apparel—odd for when the sun is beating down your back and you’re asking for a heat stroke. He took on a defensive stance on his horse from letting Clark pass through the borders of this new town.

Must be the sheriff, but no badge to adorn him.

Shadows cast on the other man’s face. His strong jawline, rugged and clenched, as he eyes Clark up and down. “Where d’you come from?”

Clark beams, “Metropolis.”

The man huffs, his beautiful horse moves in tandem. “Quite far from here don’t you think?”

“You interrogatin’ me, sir?” He toothily grins but the other man doesn’t seem amused.

“I ought to be,” he stares him straight in the eye. Steel blue contrasting his dusty black. My, what a sight, Clark thinks. “What’s your business in this town?”

“‘M just a herder. Wherever the cattle go, I follow. Clark Kent, if you’re gonna keep questioning me.”

“Hn.” Still not budging. “Outsiders aren’t welcome here, Kent, you’re better off going around.”

“I can’t, sir, my dear Nelly is awfully dehydrated from the journey. All I ask is to stay for a day just to rest.” Clark pats his mare’s hair, her beautiful brown coat shimmers away in the sun.

“Nelly?” Bruce asks, eyes softening just a hint before hardening.

“What don't you name your horses? They have feelings, y'know.”

“Your ‘Nelly’ is a stallion, Kent.”

Clark looks down at his horse and then back up to the strange man. “You don’t say! Well, I guess Nick is a better name.”

That gets a surprised chuckle out of the stone-willed man before going back to his deadpanned face. “You get one day here. In and out.”

Clark tips his hat in agreement, “no complaints here.”

“I’ll lead you to an inn I own, keep your head down.” Clark raises an eyebrow, an inn-owner for a man that isn’t so welcoming to strangers—how odd.

They set their horses off on a desolate path, nobody in sight and Clark wonders just how strange this town was.

“Bruce,” he hears a gruff voice that breaks him out of his daze. “The name’s Bruce and that’s all y’gonna get.”

Clark doesn’t argue any further. He knows Bruce can’t see his face from ahead, but he still smiles at the man’s broad back.

“Charmed, Bruce.” His eyes don’t mean to lower down to where Bruce’s backside meets the rhythmic trod of his horse. But he can’t look away because goodness, that man can ride. Ride very well, in fact.

Charmed, indeed, Clark thinks. Maybe he’ll think about overstaying here.

#superbat #omg yes

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sadtrainnoises · 2 months ago

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Barry deffinitly makes a joke about them hate fuckin'

Clark Kent had zero idea that he wanted to get manhandled until Bruce Wayne picked his big ass up, flung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and walked out of the League conference room with him like he weighed nothing at all. And damnit, Bruce didn’t miss a step or show any sign that he was heavy. He had the nerve to just keep walking, face blank and eyes forward, as though he wasn’t carrying well over 200 pounds of Superman around like a rag doll.

Clark has never been so conflicted.

On one hand, he’d been in the middle of speaking—and making a damn good point, thank you very fucking much. Bruce had disagreed with everything he’d said to the point that he’d snatched the cowl off mid-meeting, like he wanted Clark to see he was rolling his eyes in plain view. And Clark can admit that after the third eye roll, he’d gotten loud and belligerent. Then, out of nowhere, right after Barry had made some silly joke to break the tension in the room, Bruce had stood up, rounded the table, grabbed Clark by the waist, and flung him over his shoulder. And Clark, too shocked by it all, hadn’t done a thing to stop it.

Which leads to the other hand. Because yes, on one hand, Clark is outraged that Bruce went this far to shut him down in a disagreement. Mister dark and broody, Mister I’m Always Right Because I’m Batman, just couldn’t handle anyone with a different point of view, so he physically removed the opposition. Self-righteous, arrogant, bullheaded, stubborn, and yet—and yet—and yet…

Clark has never been so turned on in his fucking life.

It occurs to him, as Bruce exits the conference room with everyone else watching in shocked silence, that he should be furious. He can’t remember what he’d been saying—knows it was a good point but damn, what had the meeting even been about?—and now look at him. He’s face down, ass up, cape askew, wide-eyed and struck stupid. He thinks he even squeaked in shock when Bruce had adjusted him from his left shoulder to his right without so much as a grunt. Just seamless, effortless, strong, so strong and powerful—

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been walking (well, Bruce walking and him just dangling), but suddenly they’re in an empty break room and Bruce is sitting him down on the counter, arranging himself between his legs and opening his mouth to growl—

“If you’re determined to act like a brat, then I’m going to treat you like one.”

Did Clark say before that he’s never been so turned on in his life? Scratch that. Fuck that. Whatever he said then doesn’t even begin to compare to right now.

Bruce blinks and the fight in him seems to evaporate into thin air. “You…are not supposed to be enjoying this.”

Oh, great. Now, on top of everything else Bruce is inexplicably capable of, it seems like he can also see Clark’s toes curling involuntarily in his boots. Either that or the deep breath Clark took to calm down looked more like helpless swooning. Fucking wonderful.

And you know what? He could be embarrassed by all this. He probably should be. Maybe even righteously indignant at the disrespect, the absolute gall it took for someone who’s supposed to be his equal cutting him off in such an extreme way. But something about getting tossed around has his brain short-circuiting and his heart fluttering, so he takes years of mutual lingering glances and tension and decides to be brave (see: stupid and horny).

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Bruce grins. “If I’d know that was all it took, I would’ve done this ages ago.”

#prev tags #lol #i am reblogging this from the break room at work

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