Summary: it’s little girls like you that don’t know how to keep their mouth shut unless it’s stuffed.
Pairing: Tony Stark x Black!Reader 18+
WC: 3.5k
Warnings: uuuuhh daddy kink, degradation (bc I love that shit), face slapping (bc I love that shit), dirty talk, unprotected sex, age gap, virgin reader, cheating, basically one of those taboo adult film plots, don’t sleep with your estranged mother’s hot older boyfriend!
A/N pt. 1: I like the idea of dominant Tony so let me have my dominant Tony
A/N pt.2 : If you’re tagged please leave verbal feedback. If you like it at all please say something <3
You were far from little, you were a grown ass woman for crying out loud. But Tony, the man your mother was dating referred to you as just that, a little girl. Your relationship with your mother wasn’t the best. She was estranged with you and you knew it wouldn’t be long until she became that way with Tony.
Throughout your life you realized that your mother was too selfish to even have children and that you just popped out of nowhere, pretty much an accident. She was too invested in her career which is how your relationship with her became the way it was. It was practically nonexistent.
But Tony, he was around more than her. He was very involved with you and he hadn’t known you that long. You came back from college and that’s when she introduced you two, after she had been dating him for seven months. You saw the way his eyes lit up when he saw you and he saw the way yours did the same. Your mother was trying to kill you with this one. Had she known you were so into older men she would have never brought him around you.
It’s been about a year since you and Tony met each other and the sexual tension between you two was intoxicating but, no one else realized it because your mom was always away for work or trapped in her office budgeting everything for her business.
You and Tony were alone often but no moves were ever made. You were scared, what move could you even make? You don’t know jack shit about making moves.
Yeah typical, the shy virgin with a crush on a guy who is literally old enough to be her father, but you couldn’t stop it. With your mother always gone and pretty much out of the picture, you wondered why Tony even stayed until one day it became clear.
you're not sure how much time has passed; maybe you've been sitting on bruce's thighs for about ten minutes, maybe a little longer.
you enjoy the way he looks: with half-closed eyes that read pure adoration and universal love; with lips swollen with kisses, one of which he bites each time you squeeze teasingly inside; with short sighs that you manage to intercept with a kiss.
he's beautiful. just so damn beautiful when he's lying underneath you and doesn't even dare to say anything, absolutely enjoying you and the feeling of how close you are. you're one, connecting somewhere below and smiling softly every time you meet eyes.
wayne thinks it's true love. the way you make his heart flutter time after time, that's love. the way you kiss him tenderly, pressing your breasts against his, that's love. the way you lift your hips for the first time in ten minutes to make one single thrust, that's love. the way you moan and smile at each other in sync, that's love.
"you're beautiful," you say, running your palms over his chest and exhaling convulsively as his cock twitches inside you. bruce turns away gently, as if hiding from your loving gaze, "don't hide."
"you don't let me," he whispers chokingly, squeezing your thighs tighter.
"you never let me hide either."
"because i wanna look at you."
"and i wanna look at you sometimes, too," you leave a brief kiss on his lips and smile.
your hands intertwine and bruce brings your palm to his lips, kissing it softly; his fingers play with your wedding ring as he once again mentally notes how beautiful it looks on your hand. there's a big bang somewhere under his ribs every time wayne realises that you're his wife.
you're the one who cried as he got down on one knee and pulled the ring out of his jacket pocket. you're the one who made him promise at the altar to love him no matter what. you're the one who wakes up next to him in the morning and leaves a kiss on his cheek whenever he leaves.
"i love you," he says as you pull away after kissing him, "i love you so much."
"i love you too," you whisper back, giving him your most tender smile.
bruce thinks that you are love.
//
ty for reading!!! hope you enjoyed it <33
don’t forget about feedback, it’s really important 💌
To say he'd be gentle would be an understatement. You'll be treated as absolutely royalty, touches so soft and tender you can barely feel them.
He'd be extremely honored and giddy that you want him to be your first. The fact that you trust him so much despite his reputation makes his heart beat faster and his cock twitch.
It's safe to say he's not a virgin, and boy, does he know what he's doing!!
He'd take you out on a nice date first, most likely a very nice restaurant. Bruce wasn't usually the romantic type when it came to relationships (if you can even call them that) but he loves you, truly loves you, and he wants to make this special for you.
I don't think he'd go the full 9 yards with rose petals and candles, but it's definitely still a very soft and romantic atmosphere.
Bruce would be insistent that you don't have a single sip of alcohol that night. Yes, you've been together for a while, but this is a big step, and he wants to make 10000% sure that this is what you want. No drinks for either of you that night.
So, he'd take you out on a fun night, have you get all dolled up and then drive around with you for a bit, the lights of a Gotham night reflecting in the windows of his very expensive car. Just something to take the edge off.
You're obviously very comfortable around each other, and he's probably seen you naked at one point anyway, but sex is a completely new form of intimacy.
He'd help you undress and place soft kisses on your skin. You'd lay in bed for a while, not completely naked yet, but still very much undressed. Just enjoying each other's company while the flame of lust and desperation slowly grows and grows. Maybe he'd tell you some of his weird or embarrassing sex stories that he (undoubtedly) had at one point just to make you less nervous.
Sex can be messy, clumsy, ungraceful, and sloppy. He wants you to know that there's nothing to be ashamed about and to always voice and concerns or wishes you may have.
He's gently caressing the skin of your arm as you both lay on your sides, facing each other, as you talk about whatever comes to mind. There's a little lamp on in the corner of the room, bathing the room in a soft golden glow.
He can't help but stare in awe as he follows the light reflecting off your features as your lips move. His hand trails lower, settling on stroking your waist, and when he hears you stop talking he searches for any sign of discomfort on your face but is only met with blushed cheeks and your breathing slightly picking up.
Bruce smiles softly and and gently tugs you closer to his chest, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. There are wandering hands, clumsy attempts at keeping your lips connected and the overwhelming urge to just touch. He'd ask you one final time if you're sure about this, that he would stop immediately if you asked him to.
The second you give him the go-ahead, he's almost bursting with excitement. He can't wait to explore this new side of you to figure out what you like and what makes you weak in the knees. His hands explore your body, caressing and teasing your sensitive spots whole his lips are attached to your neck.
He tugs off any remaining garments you had on and makes his way down your stomach, brushing his lips over your soft flesh. And, yes, he will eat you out for your first time (definitely not because he's a munch and has been thinking about this for months) maybe he'd make you come on his tongue, but he doesn't want to overwhelm you so he'll just tease you and rile you up until you're dripping with a fog of pleasure clouding your senses.
He'll gently ease his fingers inside of you one by one, getting you used to the feeling of having something inside of you. He'll switch between holding your hand and circling your clit with his thumb. He watches your face like a hawk for any indication that you're uncomfortable or, god forbid, in any pain.
And if you end up coming around his fingers, that's okay. He didn't really set himself any goals for this, like getting 5 orgasms out of you in 10 minutes or anything like that, he just wants you to feel good and loved.
If you don't come around his fingers, that's okay, too. What happens, happens, what doesn't, doesn't. As long as you're satisfied in the end, he doesn't care.
Expect to get like a thousand kisses and him telling you how much he loves you every second.
Bruce insists on missionary (it's his favorite position, but only with you) because the closeness and intimacy is very important to him during your first time. He will always have a safe word, it'll be just stop most of the time. It's easy to remember because it's the first thing you think of when it gets too much anyway.
Because, let's be honest, you're not gonna remember rhubarb-vanilla crumble or something ridiculous like that.
He's been ignoring his raging hard-on, purely because he just can't take his eyes off you. You look absolutely divine underneath him, your pretty features contorted in bliss. He's already been making mental notes to what really makes you melt. And then the moment finally arrives and he gently pushes himself inside of you, tightly grasping your hand.
Communication is really important to him (not only during sex) so I'm afraid you won't get any kisses until he's 100% sure that you're okay. He needs to hear you loud and clear, whether you want him to slow down, start moving, to angle his hips differently. This is all about you tonight.
But the second he's found a good and steady rhythm and has you mewling with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, he's smashing his lips on yours. Bruce would lay his entire weight on you, chests pressed together because he needs to be closer to you. It's not close enough for him, but it'll have to do.
But don't think this isn't affecting him, sex with love is way different than the hook-ups he had. He's panting like a dog, messy hair and dilated pupils. He's absolutely drowning in pleasure, reaching the deepest parts of you while your fingers are still firmly laced together. He'd be very insistent that you come together (he's probably the one that has to hold himself back) and he'd stroke your clit or suck on your tits, whatever tips you over the edge.
I believe the closer he gets to coming undone, the more incoherent babbles of love spill from his lips. It's all desperate and needy "I love you"s in between moans and groans. There are definitely night where he was more control, but this one is not one of them.
After he's brought you earthshattering bliss, and he tiped over the edge himself (he'd preferably come inside of you, but he wouldn't mind pulling out if that's what you wanted) he'll lay down with you. There's no rush, just the two of you gently coming out of your haze of pleasure.
Bruce can't ever shut up, which makes him the king of pillowtalk. You'll just take for a little while, make sure you're both okay before it's time to clean up and get ready for bed.
Depending on how deep you're into the evening, he'll either gently wipe you down with either a damp towel, make sure you're both getting some water, or he'll straight up pamper you with a full bath. I'm talking candles, bubbles, lots of differently scented soaps, and ,of course, his arms around you.
It's all very intimate and loving with tons of soft kisses to your temples, forehead or lips. After you're dried off, you'll help each other slip into your sleep attire before absolutely knocking out for a good 9 hours and waking up in the loving embrace of your lover with the sun kissing your cheeks.
The biggest question on everyone's mind is how do the crime-stopping vigilantes of Gotham City like to cuddle?
↪ My Masterlist
BRUCE WAYNE 🖤
"Brucie," you smile up at him from your spot in the middle of the king-sized bed, the television playing some show you found on a streaming service. Your eyes skated across your fiancé's large back, the muscles rippling before your eyes.
"Yeah?" He called out to him, running a hand through his black hair. His entire body ached from tonight's mishap and he didn't have to tell you about it. The look was written all over his face.
"C'mere," you extend your hands. "Come cuddle with me."
Bruce chuckled quietly. He wasn't a man who would use the term cuddle but even he wasn't going to deny that being in your arms sounded nice, especially after the night he had. "You should be asleep." He scolds you gently, making his way over after stripping to his boxers.
You smirk and open your arms, feeling as the massive weight of Bruce's body crushes you. A tiny squeak leaves your mouth at the pressure and Bruce quickly accommodates. Sometimes it was scary just how defined Bruce's body was. He had lines of muscle and curves in places you could only pin to imagination. Staring at him unclothed and in his true nature– never failed to steal your breath away.
"Don't start with me... You look like hell." You smirk, your fingertips curling around the strands of hair. You opened your legs a little more to give him some room and slowly, Bruce resumed his position with his scarred-up cheek laying directly against your stomach. He curled his arms around your frame and actually nuzzled into you.
"See? Even the Batman needs to be cuddled..." You whisper, kissing the crown of his head as your fingertips begin their descent along his spine.
"Don't you... Tell the boys about this." Bruce says, a wave of sleepiness overcoming him, much quicker than it had these last few nights.
And he knew exactly why it was easier tonight.
DICK GRAYSON 💙
"BABE!" Dick screamed from upstairs. You nearly dropped your phone at the frantic tone in his voice. You took the stairs two at a time until you reached the top and swerved to find the bedroom door sprung open.
"What?! What's wrong?!" You erupt, gripping the doorknob. But when you were met with the sight of a perfectly fine Dick Grayson, you grumbled a curse word. Your boyfriend walks over to you, his smile widening.
"You came pretty fast. Worried about me?" he smirks, deliciously skimming his fingertips over your bare shoulders before hoisting you to him with his hand on the small of your back. You try to push him off of you but it's no use.
"I should worry about my constant belief that every time you scream, something is wrong." You grimace, giving up on trying to escape his hold. "What do you want?"
Dick grins mercilessly and wraps his arms around you. In one swift motion, he has you in the air, the next your back is hitting the soft mattress. He never takes his arms from around you. Before you have time to question his motives, Dick's hard chest is pressing firmly against your back, and his warm lips are decorating the back of your neck with sweet kisses, meanwhile his arms remain locked around your midsection.
"You screamed... For a cuddle?" You giggle.
"I could go for screaming about something else if you're in the mood... But yes. I just wanted to hold you. That so bad, sweet girl?" Dick purrs against your ear, nipping your earlobe which sends a shock of electricity down your spine.
"No funny business, Dick." You smirk, laying your hands over his.
JASON TODD ❤️
He came inside wordlessly. With his helmet tucked under his arm and his leather jacket hitting the floor with a thud, you lift your eyes from your book to see a bruised and battered Jason Todd. His eyes scan the room and relief washes over him when he sees you cuddled in the sheets.
"Jaybird?" You close your book. He takes his boots off and walks over. Without a word, Jason crawls up the length of the bed until he's beside you. He wraps a strong arm around you and turns your chest to face his. "Hey, what is it?"
Jason shakes his head. "It was a rather... Complicated night. Everything's fine. Everyone's okay. But can I just hold you?" He asks, stroking his thumb over your cheek, his gaze deep with yours.
You won't ever deny him that. You know on harder nights, Jason uses cuddling as a means to exude his emotions that he'd rather not talk about.
"Of course, baby." You smile. Jason smiles in return and leans down to peck your lips.
"Thanks, baby girl." He cradles the back of your head to his neck and you smother yourself in smoke, leather, and cologne. Jason smelled wonderful. You wrap your arms and tangle your legs through his, feeling as Jason squeezes you tightly in his arms, his lips skimming your skin every so often.
He dances his fingers up and down your back and before the night grows older, Jason's softly snoring, and you're trying to wake him back up to properly get ready for bed.
TIM DRAKE ☕️
You walked downstairs to see Tim stretched out on the couch, some report in his hands. Your eyes widen at the sight. You peel your gaze off your boyfriend and to the kitchen table where... Yup. His empty coffee cups and paperwork sit.
"Are you feverish? Since when do you lay down and look over paperwork on a case?" You giggle quietly, causing Tim's eyes to drift from the papers. He smiles lazily and sighs.
"Wanted a change of scenery?" He lies with a laugh.
"Super important?" You nod toward the paper in his hand.
Tim's eyebrows lift. He liked where this was going. "Not... Really. What'd you have in mind, sweetheart?"
Nothing could have prepared him for your running start, followed by your swift launching with arms spread wide. He manuvered by throwing the folder down on the ground and caught you in his arms, where you landed with an audible thud against his chest.
"What was that?!" Tim erupts, both of you coughing and breaking into hysterics. You kiss up his neck and wrap your arms around him.
"Cuddle me?" You muffle into his throat. Tim laughs even louder and wraps both his legs and arms around you, practically bear-hugging you to his chest. Both of your bodies rattle from the laughter filling your living room.
As it slowly subsides and you two can focus on each other's breathing, Tim looks down at you and kisses your cheek softly. He moves a little so you can lay beside him comfortably on the couch where he throws his leg over yours and pins you to his chest with a strong arm and flat hand on your belly. He skims under the fabric of your t-shirt and strokes your skin with light strokes.
He knew he wouldn't get anything else done today. All of his attention now belonged to you.
hey guys!! long time no see! hope u all are doing good!!! i hope everyone’s new year has been decent!! next month is my birthday!! i’m hoping to post some more!! so sorry i’ve been mia yall!’ i love u all💖
Building a Mystery - (Nolanverse) Bruce Wayne x Fem OC - PART 1
I'm sure there is a ton of Bruce Wayne fanfic out there, but I haven't read any of it, and this is basically just something I started writing for myself, as a self-sufficient worker bee just trying to pay the rent, and fantasizing about...not...struggling to stay afloat. This is based on The Dark Knight trilogy's Bruce Wayne as portrayed by Christian Bale, canon divergent post-TDK, in a universe where Bruce didn't become quite as much of a recluse, didn't completely hang up his cowl, and isn't completely opposed to trying to move on. This chapter is lowkey dedicated to @balanceofthemis who seems to also be going through it right now.
The hour was slowly encroaching on two o' clock in the morning, Bruce observed, as he crouched atop one of the less notable buildings of the city, searching for any citizens in need of his vigilante assistance. Since the death of Harvey Dent, and the Act passed in his name, crime had dropped dramatically, and he found himself less and less in demand. Still, there were nights when his fingers tapped over a few keys on the piano, and he crept to the elevator that led to the enormous bat cave below Wayne Manor, suiting up and entering the bustling city in search of someone, anyone, who might need him. By the time the sounds of a struggle a few blocks off reached the earpiece nestled in his cowl, he had started to edge on restless. When a voice called out in dismay, he darted in the direction of the conflict.
Making quick strides over rooftops, Bruce finally reached the source of the distress, a typical dark alley, a young woman doing her best to defend herself against a man set of stealing whatever was in her messenger bag. The disguised billionaire was already mid-leap off the ledge, toward the concrete below, when the frustrated sounds of the young woman were replaced with panicked screams from the attacker. A cacophony of expletives erupted from the thief as a can of pepper-spray was spritzed into his eyes, followed by the the crunching sound of 190 pounds of vigilante landing on the bag that lay on the filthy ground.
“Holy shit,” she uttered, quickly pressing her back to the wall as the city's most beloved hero pounded his fists into the would-be thief. Her back rubbed against the rough brick wall through her shirt as she slid to the ground, watching the Batman beat the criminal until he became limp in a gloved hand. She wondered for a moment if the masked hero had taken things too far, but the man on the ground let out a groan and a soft cry, and she sighed in relief.
Glancing once more at the thief on the concrete, Batman swiveled toward the young woman, reaching his hand out, pulling her up from the ground when she accepted it. “Are you alright?” he asked in an overly gruff voice, the voice of his masked persona, and her mouth opened to speak, though no words slipped past her lips, and she finally nodded silently instead. “You're sure?”
“I...yeah, I'm...sure,” she finally managed, still in disbelief at the figure before her. “I...can't believe I'm actually,” a smile pulled at her lips and she shook her head slightly, overwhelmed, “I'm actually meeting the Batman. I'd heard you don't really come out anymore.”
“Only on special occasions,” he returned, though there wasn't much truth to it. He didn't come out because he wasn't really needed anymore. He certainly didn't regret that he'd let the urge get the best of him on this particular night, regardless. When her eyes darted away from his Kevlar-enhanced physique, his vision followed hers as she looked around to find the bag she'd carried. If Bruce had continued to watch her, he would have noticed the unmistakable crestfallen look that took over her facade as her sight landed on the messenger bag she used to transport her laptop, looking far more concave than usual.
“No,” she whispered as she stepped toward it and picked it up, peering inside, and groaning out a profanity as she dragged the smashed piece of technology out into the evening air. “You...you pulverized it,” she mumbled as she opened it to find screen the spiderwebbed with cracks, the keyboard crushed below it. She tried the power button, and wasn't the least bit surprised when nothing happened in response. “He was helpless on the ground before you even showed up, and you demolished my livelihood,” she continued, voice small as she raised her eyes back up to the Caped Crusader, brows knit together, too stunned to let out the anger that would take her over in the hours that followed.
The Batman was lost for words as he viewed the dismayed look on her face. A crushed electronic device was nothing to him but a minor inconvenience, and what did a billionaire know about the financial strain of losing the piece of equipment responsible for allowing a person to make their meager income. “I'm s-...sorry,” he whispered, inaudibly, as she stumbled slightly, walking backwards toward the street-end of the alley, glancing up to his shrouded figure once more before she shook her head in sustained disbelief and began to walk away, out of sight. After a few prolonged moments of silence, Bruce looked to the screen embedded in the forearm of his suit, watching the visual display of the tracker he'd brushed onto the cuff of her jacket when their hands had touched. He hunkered down into a squat and watched the moving light on the screen until it finally reached it's destination within a studio apartment, sublet by the occupant who's most important piece of technology he'd maimed beyond repair.
* * *
“I need a laptop,” Bruce stated simply over the phone as soon as Lucius Fox picked up on the other side.
“A laptop?” Lucius questioned. Rather simple for a request from Mr. Wayne.
“Something powerful, fast, lots of memory...premium,” he explained, “with a durable case.” When Lucius remained silent on the other side of the call, Bruce clarified, “It's not for me, it's a...a gift.”
* * *
“So, wait...you met the actual Batman?” a voice on the opposite end of a phone far less impressive than Bruce's inquired, and the young woman with the smashed computer nodded before answering in the affirmative.
“I think you're missing the more important point. I can't fucking work without my computer-”
“Did you lose your files?”
“No, everything's in the Cloud, but I can't...I can't access what I need and live on my crappy phone. I can barely afford rent yet anyway, I don't know what I'm gonna do,” she sighed as she plopped down on the edge of her bed, letting her body fall backwards into an array of messy blankets and sheets. “The one he wrecked wasn't even paid off yet...Guess I'm gonna be spending the next month getting by on ten cent ramen if I wanna eat.”
“I'd help if I could-”
“I know. I'll just...I'll just make it work. It's not like I have a-” she paused suddenly as a knock erupted from the outside of her apartment door, out in the hallway. “Hold on,” she mumbled, setting the phone down and reaching for her recently used pepper-spray, grabbing and pulling on a pair of pajama pants from the floor as she walked toward the door. She peered through the peephole, found a man in a uniform outside, holding a box covered in tape indicating the urgency of its delivery. With the chain still hooked, she opened the door the allotted few inches, looked out toward the stranger. “Yes?”
“I have a delivery for this residence,” he confirmed, holding the package out in a way that exposed the delivery address.
“I didn't order anything,” she returned, but sure enough, her name and new address were printed on the label.
“But you are, uh...Natalie?” the courier asked, looking to the label briefly, and back up at the resident. She nodded. “Well...maybe it's a gift,” he answered with a shrug, and she pursed her lips, brows furrowed, before shrugging. A quick few movements, and the door was open, the package transferring between their hands.
“Um...thank you,” she mumbled as she closed the door and the delivery man retreated back down the hall.
“Who was that,” Natalie heard before she could manage to even get the phone back up to her ear, and she switched the device to speaker as she carried the package to her bed, snatching a nail file from her side table and sitting cross-legged on the soft surface to inspect the box.
“A courier...someone sent me a package,” she confirmed, looking the object over for a return address, finding nothing but her own printed residence.
“Who's it from,” her friend inquired, and Natalie answered with a simple I don't know. With some precision, she managed to break the seal around the edge, lifting the cardboard lid that hooked into itself, and dragged bubble wrap out of the way to find a sturdy looking case, and a loose note on top.
“Sorry I smashed your computer,” she read aloud, “I hope this will be a suitable substitute...Take care.” There was a tiny sketch of a bat in place of a name, and Natalie's brows quirked with interest as she opened the clasps on the hard case, opening it up and mumbling an expletive.
“Well, what is it?!” her friend demanded impatiently as Natalie extracted the the computer from the case and opened it up, the device fully charged and starting up immediately.
“I think Batman sent me a new laptop,” she finally confirmed, going through the start-up process, thoroughly enjoying the chasing rainbow of the backlit keys, “And it's probably worth half a year of my rent...Maybe I won't have to resort to boiling bags of Maruchan after all.”
“So...Batman's rich?” the voice from the phone hypothesized as Natalie read aloud the specs of the system, connecting to her accounts and letting out a sigh of relief as all of her files started to filter in from the Cloud.
“Seems like he's, at least, not broke like us...makes sense, though. I can't imagine that suit and all the gadgets and technology and everything come cheap.”
“You must have made quite the impression for him to just...send you a shiny new computer the next day,” the speaker-projected voice continued.
“I don't know about that...I think I just made him feel guilty. It's not like I'm not grateful for his help. I know it could have been...so much worse-”
“Was he hot?” the voice spouted suddenly.
“What?” Natalie responded, finally tearing her attention from the expansive, crystal-clear screen.
“Was he-”
“I don't know, he was...everything was covered up except for the bottom half of his face.”
“Nice smile?”
“He was frowning the whole time...I guess that's supposed to make him look scarier to criminals. Clean shaven, some crowding in his front lower teeth, but nothing egregious...Really deep voice, but I imagine that serves the same purpose as the frown.”
“What about the rest of him?”
“I mean, like I said, everything else was covered...he was tall, looked pretty beefy...I imagine the suit accounts for some of that, though...whatever, it doesn't matter,” she finally huffed, a bit flustered. It was pointless to wonder what he might look like under all those layers of black. Short of some kind of unfortunate circumstance, she'd likely never see him again. She didn't even want to think about how he'd managed to get her address and name. All she knew was that her career wasn't fucked after all, and that she hadn't slept hardly at all since the incident, and the knowledge that things were far from as terrible as she'd feared was finally allowing her body and mind to relax. “Hey, I'm gonna go...I think I might actually be able to get some sleep now.” With a quick good night in response from her friend, she ended the call, and closed the lid of the new computer, placing it on the floor next to her bed and cocooning herself in the mess of colorful, polyester blankets. “Tomorrow,” she mumbled as her lids became heavy, and she shifted onto her side, “I'll worry about Batman stalking me tomorrow.”
* * *
“Fifteen for the necklace, ten each for the bracelets...four bracelets?” Natalie confirmed as she sat on a stool just inside the entrance of the niche and cozy club she worked at, exchanging pink and orange snap-activated glow bracelets for cash, and ushering a young lesbian couple inside. Various people in their 20's and 30's arrived every few minutes as the hour approached 9pm, and the florescent tubes and LED lights quickly illuminated the main floor. Every individual who approached the entrance was excited to enter, choosing from an array of wearable items and slipping in without delay, save for a man clearly not dressed for such an occasion, standing just out of sight, watchful.
Billionaire 'Prince' of Gotham, Bruce Wayne, waited until the the patrons had nearly dried up before he finally strode toward the doors, taking a deep breath before stepping inside. He was greeted with a wall of plastic tubes, fiber optic clothing and accessories, and LED-laced acrylic pieces, all disinfected and ready to be donned on the dance floor. “Is this your first visit to 'NEON'?” Natalie asked before she even looked up, closing a few applications on the tablet she used for digital and card transactions, before raising her gaze to the newest patron.
“Uh, yes, I...I don't think I'm on the list,” Bruce spoke, using his louder, slightly more obnoxious tone he used around people who knew nothing about him save for his money.
“Oh, there's no list,” Natalie confirmed as she finally raised her gaze to the man before her, and to Bruce's surprise, she showed not the slightest hint of recognition of his face. “We do have VIP sections if you're looking for a more exclusive experience.” Bruce opened his mouth slightly to answer, but closed it without making a sound. When was the last time he'd entered any establishment in this city without being instantly recognized? He finally shook his head in dismissal of the exclusive sectioning, and gestured his hand to the wall of dormant lights behind her.
“What's all this about?” he inquired, and she looked back over her shoulder instinctively.
“Well...in lieu of a cover charge, we offer an array,” she made a clearly practiced sweeping motion with her arm, “of light-up items for a fun, aesthetic experience.”
“In lieu?” Bruce mumbled as he reached for his wallet, “Does that mean I don't actually have to wear this silly-” but she spoke up before he could even extract a card.
“It's not just for your personal enjoyment, it's also for safety,” she clarified, and he glanced up from his wallet. “Makes it harder for people to sneak up on you, or for you to sneak up on someone else.”
“So...it's for visibility,” he concluded aloud, and she nodded.
“And fun,” she added to his vocalized thoughts.
“What do most people go for,” he asked, taking a breath and looking over the offerings.
“Um...glow sticks and necklaces are popular, but you don't get a deposit back. The fiber optic stuff is more adventurous,” she noted, her fingers fumbling for a button on a simple looking tie, lights immediately cascading down the material as she pressed the power button, and Bruce's face scrunching up as he witnessed it. “The LED scrunchies are probably out of the question,” she quipped with a smirk, glancing back to his face, watching as his brows drew together slightly, an amused smirk on his face, eyes lit up from the glow of the various rentable options.
“What would you recommend?” he finally questioned as he glanced back to her face, his smirk softening but not disappearing.
“I think...” she paused, glancing away from the handsome 40-something to the wall behind her, “this acrylic LED visor would work.” Natalie extracted a transparent piece from its home on the display and pressed a pair of hidden buttons to show off the various color combinations that lit up the clear wearable. After settling on a combination of blue and green, she held out the visor, but Bruce stepped closer and leaned forward. The young woman paused for a few moments before the corner of her mouth quirked up and she leaned in to slide the acrylic piece into place, resting on the shells of his ears. She fought the smile, and the rumble of a laugh, as she looked over this man, clad in a suit that likely cost at least 5 times her monthly income, wearing a $5 LED visor from China.
“How do I look?” he inquired, his lips forming into a full grin as he fingered the edges of the accessory.
“Out of place,” she finally admitted, dragging her eyes away from him to search for the tablet she'd set aside. “Anyway, the rental fee is $25, but $10 of that is refundable if you return it before you leave,” she mumbled, pulling up the pay application on her device.
“In lieu of a cover charge,” he confirmed once more, and she nodded.
“So, card, I'm assuming?” she asked as she reached a hand out, and he hesitated. Finally drawing out cash instead of plastic, he placed his payment in her hand, and she fumbled for a lock box instead, sliding the bills inside, extracting his change. “I still need a name, in case you decide not to keep the...” she motioned to her temple to indicate the visor across his eyes.
“Right, uh...it's...” her brows drew together as he hesitated to disclose his identity. “It's Bruce.”
“Bruce...?” she repeated, the confused look still on her face. He looked as if he was waiting for her to recognize him. “I'm sorry, I need a last name for the list.”
“Bruce Pennyworth,” he lied, and she nodded in acceptance, and scribbled the name down on a list of the night's rentals.
“Well, Bruce...I hope you have a nice night,” she returned, indicating with her arm the internal entrance into the establishment. He nodded and looked back at her once more, before he disappeared inside.
The next half hour passed quickly as Natalie passed off her door responsibilities to the club's body-builder security guard, and vanished into the employee-only area, where she prepared for her real club responsibilities. Bruce, meanwhile, found a seat at an empty table toward the back, resolving to people-watch before he left to return to the re-built Wayne Manor for the evening. More than anything, he'd wanted to check on the young woman his cowl-donning persona had run into, make sure she was alright. She seemed in good spirits, but this was far from his scene, and he didn't intent to stick around. As he lifted his hand in the air to signal a bartender for a final drink for the night, fulfilling the drink minimum of the establishment, a roar of excitement suddenly erupted from the dance floor, and Bruce looked up in surprise to see what the commotion was about.
Fog started to pour from dispensing machines, adding to the aesthetic of the laser lights that passed over the patrons. A platform Bruce hadn't previously noticed seemed to be the main source of attention among the lit-up bodies, and a familiar figure stepped into focus, the laptop he had sent to her apartment open and running before her. Surrounded by DJ equipment, she shouted something out to the crowd that was incoherent among the excited screams, and Synth music that had started out at a low volume quickly filled the air. Bruce's hazel-green eyes focused on the young woman, standing on a platform above the others, barely noticing the alcoholic drink placed beside him, and settled in more into the cushion of the booth he'd been residing in.
Song after mixed song played over the hours that followed, Natalie looking up frequently into the crowd to confirm the music was being well received – a mix of 90s and 2000s era dance, intermixed with House and Synth selections from more modern artists, the typical musical fare that the patrons of the club showed up for. Over the multitude of instances when she'd scanned the edges of the room, however, she'd noticed the man who'd identified himself as Bruce sitting in the same spot. Never joining the festivities, never looking out to the multitude of swaying bodies, he seemed to continuously and unflinchingly focus on her. A dozen times at least, she'd glanced in his direction, and always, his eyes were fixated on her. His gaze didn't feel leering, something more akin to fascination. As the hours crept on, closing in on the end of business for the night, Natalie signaled to a confident – in attitude and attire – young woman that she'd had many pleasant interactions with, and indicated without being too obvious the man across the room. “I'll comp you a drink if you go talk him up.” The woman glanced his way, raising her brows and looking over what she could see of him appraisingly, and weaved her way across the lively room to try to entice him into a dance.
The DJ glanced their way as he spoke with the woman who tried to encourage him out onto the floor, but he was quick to dismiss her as kindly as he could, taking her hand and holding it in his own, before waving her off. As Natalie watched her walk away into the crowd again, their vision met, and the woman gave a shrug, her face seeming to communicate, 'I tried'. Half an hour later, Natalie motioned to one of Club NEON's most loyal patrons, an unmistakably gay man that she'd had many an after work diner meal with, and made him the same offer, directing him Bruce's way. The result was the same, a kind but swift dismissal, followed by a look directly from the billionaire that seemed to indicate he was aware that these individuals were being steered his way specifically by her. She shrugged her own shoulders, and turned her attention back to the music that flowed from her artistry. By last call, with the crowd mostly dispersed, she looked up to see his booth empty, the visor he'd rented sat atop a sizable tip for the wait staff.
*** CHAPTER 2 CAN BE FOUND HERE ***
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