So, yall know how in SO many BatFam fics, the reader is lowk a superhero(I'm looking at you, Spidey! Reader), reincarnated/isekaied, etc. Whether this is through the reader swapping bodies with an alternate universe reader or just growing and maturing. It has become so so common.
But PLEASE HEAR ME OUT. What about a Moonknight! Reader? Think about it. The parallels between the Dark Knight and Moon Knight who is literally his child, by blood or adoption. Of course, this remains unknown to the family. How the Reader became Moonknight is also up to the writer.
I will admit and mention, I would have a small preference for the reader's appearance and background, being that they are gender-neutral(At the very least THIS since I'm a girl) and of Egyptian ethnic/descent or at least have some knowledge so they can sometimes nerd out like Steven Grant.
Whether the reader is insane, coping, and/or suffering from mental illnesses, like in the comics, can be interpreted and chosen by the writer for possible angst or building. Though if we're leaning fluff or comedy in certain moments, utilize Khonshu banter. I rebuke any and all smut though, but encourage hella gore and horror since Moonknight doesn't exactly dodge either...
Crescent 10/12 | Natasha Romanoff x Moonknight!Reader
Summary: When Natasha Romanoff takes a job as head of security for Dina Jackson she has an ulterior motive- to find the tomb of Egyptian artifacts that the art world is racing for. Dina’s disgraced niece is charming, awkward, and under the influence of Khonsu, the God of the Moon.
Warnings: This is 18+, if you are a minor I will block you. Fingering (r reciving), pet names, orgasm control, scars, mentions of pregnancy (Not what you think), suicidal idealations (in a martyr way), Car crashes, mentions of the afterlife, Dom/sub dynamic, horrible grammar
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Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten
“God, I need a shower” the words escaped Natahsa’s lips when the door to the hotel closed behind you. It was air conditioned in here, drying the sweat to your skin and making it feel tight, nearly unbearable. For just a moment, you missed the sandy dry heat that Cairo had to offer.
The ex-Avenger in front of you pushed the doors to the balcony open despite her words. There was a soft breeze that blew back the sheer curtains. They moved like phantoms, caressing her arms and her shoulders when she turned to you.
A toxic orange light caught the heat of the day as the sun began to lower behind the horizon. It illuminated her. Natasha’s silhouette reminded you of a statue that Dina had taken you to see when you were young; located in the Louvre. The Winged Victory of Samothrace.
White Parian marble expertly carved in the beautiful shape of a woman draped in cloth. Often, her form was compared to an angel. As angelic as the Greeks could form without a biblical translation. Wings stretched behind her, upturned to the sky. Her hand reached forward, stoney fingers grasping for something- touch, perhaps. The comfort of companionship.
Natasha reached her hand out to you now, and how could you possibly deny her? She blinked at you with deep emerald eyes that were so alive compared to the art, the statues and artifacts, that you surrounded yourself with. There was no death in her gaze, no thrumming orders from an ancient god that meant you no good will.
“Come here,” Natasha purred.
You did what you were best known for and obeyed. One hand snaked around your waist, the other splayed against your shoulder. Her forehead pressed close to yours. You breathed in Natasha Romanoff like she was the only fresh air in the pristine hotel room. Her lavender scent was so strong and grounding. You wanted to savor it.
“You can join me, if you’d like.”
“Hmm,” You hummed, feeling your brow furrow. You were much too deep in her subtle touches to register what she had said. Not for a few moments. Your eyes snapped open, and you pulled back enough to view her amused expression. “In the shower?”
She chuckled “Yes, in the shower y/n. If you want to, that is. We can take turns.”
“We should really conserve water. I’m pretty sure there’s a drought.”
Natasha made a soft noise in the back of her throat. Her smile gave her away, and so did her manicured fingers dragging down your arms. She stopped at your hand and pulled you along with her.
You recalled the first moment you met Natasha. It was in the bathroom of the apartment building your aunt called home. There was such a deep-seeded embarrassment that plagued you when the gorgeous woman caught you using hand soap to wipe away the musk of the journey there.
The two of you had seen each other, sure, but there was something intimate about what she was implying. Natasha had walked in on you changing your shirt a few weeks back. She’d seen the scars that pockmarked your skin, had averted her eyes out of respect. There was a silent agreement as she flicked on the water, that neither of you would turn away.
A slick type of heat filled the room and the sound of falling water eased your nerves. Natasha nodded so slightly, but you were close enough to see it. It was nearly laughable, how nervous you both were. There was an electric feeling that was building up in your chest. It felt like camp, almost, lifting your shirts in the darkness of a fire just to say that you did.
Your skin prickled when you did finally lift your shirt. Any trepidation you felt washed away when Natasha did the same. Of course, you knew she was going to be fit. She’s a secret agent, an Avenger, and before that… before that her muscles must have been carved from the same white Parian marble of the Winged Victory of Samothrace.
Her back was marred with scars that cut deeper than any chisel could. You watched her in the mirror, the way her shoulders tensed and then untensed when she settled. She was the most beautiful thing that you had ever seen.
Your breath caught when her fingers, cold compared to the rest of the room, found the discoloration on your shoulder. A bra strap cut through the middle of the burning mark. She diligently pushed it aside and brushed her thumb over the raised skin.
The mirror had fogged up, so you directed your attention to her eyes. She was frowning at the mark, moving her hand to cup your cheek. You took a step closer, hooking your fingers around the loops of her jeans to pull her flush against you.
Natasha’s fingers moved to the brass button of your pants, unhooking it with a practice ease that made you giggle against the small of her neck. You could feel her smile widen when your fingers found the latch of her black lace bra. You wanted to get your hands on her, get as close to her as possible.
When you kissed the side of her neck she sighed and pushed her head back, giving you full access to the curves and dips of skin. A small whimper escaped her when you pulled away, letting the strip of fabric fall between you. Natasha panted, her chest pushing out. You wanted so badly to palm her.
“No touching, malen'kaya luna.” she demanded in a low growl, instead, flicking her eyes to your own chest.
She was really going to make you do this yourself? The deadpan look she gave you was all the answer you needed. You had never moved with so much fervor before, stretching unnaturally until you found what you were looking for. When the bra fell between you both, exposing your top-half to the Black Widow. You beamed at her proudly.
“Happy?”
“Very.”
It was like a game of strip poker at this point; she removed her pants, you painstakingly focused on your socks, much to her dismay. Eventually the two of you were naked in front of one another, taking in the soft curves of your bodies, the softness of her skin, the constellations of freckles.
Natasha reached her hand out to you and led you into the shower, your breath mingling with the steam. The water burned for just a moment, eliciting a sharp gasp until you felt Natasha’s hands soothe over the warmth.
She closed the distance between the two of you once more, her tongue sliding against your lips, begging for entry that you folded into without problem. Her hands found your breasts and squeezed. You mewled into her mouth at the sensation, craving the way she swallowed the sound. You were determined to make her feel the same.
“We’re alone, right?”
Her words were a distant growl, nearly drowned by the flow of water. You went to nod, to respond to her, when her lips attached to the pulse point on your neck, she cupped your center in one fluid motion, applying pressure but not giving into your silent demands.
An unholy noise escaped you at the sensation and you tried to ignore how attractive the knowing smirk against your skin was. Part of you wanted to fight that sensation, and the other part- well, the other part wanted to crumble beneath her.
One salacious finger traced across your folds, brushing your clit and you swallowed back a shiver. Your nails dug into the smooth skin of her back, head dropping to her shoulder. “Natasha,”
“You’re so wet for me.”
“We’re in the shower,” You gritted out.
She gave you a playful frown “Well, in that case, I can just-“
Natasha attempted to move her hand, but you grasped at her wrist desperately, holding her in place. Her pupils were blown out, stealing the green from her stare. A hungry breath escaped her lips and fanned your collarbone.
“If you’re going to be that needy, darling, I’ll need you to beg for it.”
Beg for it? Ha! Beg for it. It had been two years since you’d been touched by anyone other than a magic wand that was tired from use. There was always a small piece of you that was afraid of Konshu’s lurid interruption; but even he respected your boundaries.
You weren’t one to beg, not really. Anything that you could do with another person, you could do with your own fingers. Though, with Natasha’s hand cupping your cunt, her other one raking perfectly manicured nails across water-worn skin, you would resign yourself to begging. Hell; you get on your knees and worship this woman if you had the chance.
Her eyes gave her away, that animalistic lust flashing like canine teeth dripping with saliva. The Black Widow was nothing, if not patient. She’d wait for you to decide despite knowing exactly the choice you had made.
“Natty,” you nearly whined, blushing at how desperate your voice had become. “Can you please fuck me. I want to come on your fingers.”
“All you had to do was ask,”
The words were whispered in her husky voice that drove you wild, yet, she only gave you a small moment to let her words wash over you before she inserted her finger inside of you. A moan moved past your throat at the sudden intrusion. Natasha’s lips were on yours, swallowing the sound.
“More,”
“More? Wow, you really are desperate. How long has it been, detka?”
Her question was punctuated by another finger. They curled into you, pumping in and out of your pussy with a stamina that could only accompany an ex-avenger. She was an expert at this, her touch reaching further than your own awkward efforts under the alien light of a perfume billboard.
“Nat, I’m going to…”
You gasped against her, nails digging into her back, tracing the curved line of her spine. You couldn’t possibly get any closer to her, your breasts pushed flush to her own. She groaned at the sensation and the sound alone made you want to lose control.
“Go ahead, darling. Come for me.”
Natasha’s words were enough to let you give into the building sensation in the center of your stomach. You let out a cry as you tightened around her fingers, riding them greedily through your orgasm. She continued to work them inside of you, nursing you down from the high. You were shaking against her. How could you ever think a vibrator was enough?
She pulled her fingers from your cunt and brought them to her lips, sucking your wetness from them with a satisfied moan. The sight alone was enough to have you craving more. But you had manners, you’d been nothing, if not loyal.
It was your turn to satisfy her.
Sleep refused to fall over you despite the nights various activities. Natasha was tangled against you, having drifted into unconsciousness. You’d both been worn out from travel- from staying under the steam of the shower for much too long, and then continuing to taste her when the two of you vowed to get some rest.
Natasha’s arm was around your midsection, her nose pushed against her side of your neck. Your legs were tangled. You held her closer than you had ever held anyone before. The last thing you wanted to do was let her go. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.
The occasional car horn drifted up from the city of Cairo below. The stars that lined the velvet sky bled so easily into the man-made boroughs below. Past the outer-limits was a vast desert that called to you, almost dreamlike. You longed to feel the warmth of the sand, smell the crispness of land without civilization.
Natasha drew in a sharp breath and you froze, her muscles tightened for just a moment in her slumber. She finally relaxed and tightened her grip against the smooth skin of your stomach. You stared at her with so much love and admiration in your eyes, reflecting the twinkling lights from the city.
If you were to die now, or tomorrow, while you fumbled your way through the Valley of Kings under Khonsu’s control, you figured you would be content. Just being able to know Natasha Romanoff like this, to lay with her like this, would be enough. Even if it were just for a fleeting moment.
You asked me if I have ever been infatuated with anyone before.
Khonsu had taken a moment of warm Egypt wind to materialize within the whisps of white curtains. You drew in your own breath, but relaxed. Intrusions such as this were expected, but much less welcome when you were only scarcely covered by a top sheet. You rushed to pull the fabric over your chest, cheeks enflamed.
He’d never shared much with you, if anything at all. If there was more than empty sockets where his eyes used to be, you would be able to see his vulnerability. Instead, you gave him a small nod, as if not trying to scare him away.
There was a woman once. Ruia. Her son was a high priest of an outlying village, a benevolent ruler that welcomed the Gods with open arms. Back then it was normal for us to show ourselves. There was no need for an avatar.
You’d heard of this from Layla. Her God was much more forthcoming with her history. She was much more forthcoming with every piece of information. Khonsu pulled away from the swaying curtains, pacing with nervousness at the foot of the bed. His staff was gripped in his wrapped hand.
Ruia and I fell in love quickly, and passionately He lilted his head, as if eluding to the woman wrapped around you at this very moment, her soft form, her rhythmic breathing. We lived in absolute bliss for fifty years.
“What happened?” You whispered.
I am a God that can manipulate time, but I cannot stop it. Slowing it down is one thing, but Ruia… Ruia loved me with everything she had. I could spend forever with her, I wanted to spend forever with her. But she wasn’t interested in infinite life. She wanted finality. She wants me to join her when I am ready.
There wasn’t a bitterness in Khonsu’s voice, there was just resignation. He looked down at the carpet, at the moon that hung like a broken fishbone in the sky. Then back at you with a sadness that was written all over his skin-stripped features.
“Are you ready?”
His height shrunk when he knelt at the bottom of the bed, still towering over the two of you. His shadow was stretched over the sheets, over your body. The half-moon of his staff hung like a blade over your head. Natasha did not stir.
Are you?
The Valley of Kings was a tomb. The answer had been right in front of you, carved into the gold finish of Lady Madja’s coffin. You’d been so focused on the map that you hadn’t thought of what it would lead you to. That seemed so trivial compared to the current cat and mouse game that you were playing with your aunt.
A cool breeze wafted from the Nile, it’s water was a different, vibrant type of blue that New York could never produce. Boats drifted against the current, their captains like ants among a hill. It was easier to focus on them, on the sunrise, than the looming trip ahead of you.
After Khonsu had left last night, you hadn’t gone back to sleep. You’d tightened your grip on Natasha and placed a soft kiss against her temple. She’d still been asleep when you’d gotten a message from Layla, asking to meet her. She promised coffee and Feteer Meshaltet from her favorite spot.
Though, you didn’t have much of an appetite, you accepted the baked pastry regardless, taking small nibbles as the two of you walked along the length of grass that bordered the Nile. Layla watched you as you watched the water. Neither of you said anything for a long time.
“I’ve gotten work from Mark that Dina and Chip left on a flight a few hours after yours. They should be landing by nightfall.”
When that didn’t draw an answer from you, Layla stopped and waved her ring-clad hand in front of your face. You blinked a few times at her, then frowned down at your barely-touched breakfast. You were brought back to yourself and hated the pit that formed in your stomach.
“You with me Moon Bitch?”
“Moon Bitch?”
“You’re the avatar for a Moon deity and you’re kind of a bitch. Especially under his hand.”
Yeah, you supposed you were kind of a bitch these last two years. It seemed stupid now, drawing away from your family, from your friends, from your emotions, just because a pile of celestial bones had ordered you to. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered except for Natasha.
“Do you ever think about what happens when you die?” You asked, passing her your unfinished pastry. She fisted the white and red wax paper and lilted her head to the side, much like your master had the night before.
“We both have died.”
“Do you remember it?”
Layla clenched and unclenched her jaw before she frowned at the food and dropped it into the waste bin that lingered on the edges of a patch of green. Neither of you had much of an appetite. Food wasn’t something you thought about in the face of your ultimate demise.
She shoved her hands into the pockets of her shorts, “I remember the snowstorm that night, how cold it was. It was barely visible but we’d gotten a call, you know? A woman was in labor and we were the only truck on service.”
You wanted to put your hand on your own and tell her stop but something held you back. She’d never been willing to share this with you before. You’d seen Taweret hit her with a warning stare when she’d been taunted mercilessly by the avatar of Mandulis. They’d always taken the high road.
Khonsu had found great amusement in the teasing. You had to swallow the lump in your throat and stand by his throne, staring down at the way the torches within the white sandstone flickered. There was a deep resentment towards yourself that day, how you’d abandoned her in that moment. If not for Khonsu’s bony hand engulfing your shoulder, you would have pushed forward.
Layla took a deep breath “The ambulance hit some black ice and spun out of control. Through a guardrail. I’d been flung from the vehicle and into a snowbank. I could see the highway above me, the headlights of a passerby who stopped to help. He saw me first and rushed to help, but I told him about the pregnant woman who was still in the back of the ambulance. I told him to go to her, and he listened.
“I fell asleep in the snow and when I woke up, I was in this stretching field of reeds. It was the warmest I had ever felt, it radiated from my core and all of that fear- all of that pain from the crash, had vanished just as quickly as it had come.”
It wasn’t like that for you, but you weren’t about to tell Layla that. She shrugged dismissively and started her slow stroll once more. You took a few moments before following her, shoulders drooping. Of course it was different for her, warmer, softer, acceptable.
“That’s when Taweret found me and offered me a second chance at life. It was almost… hard to leave that field, to enter the harshness of the world again, but I’m glad that I did.”
You nodded, swallowing the dryness in your throat. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“Mm,” She hummed, frowning at you “Is there something you’re not telling me. Considering we’re having a group share.”
Was there? While Khonsu had implied that this was a suicide mission for him, he hadn’t said it outwardly. Through the course of your toxic relationship, you learned to read him. Despite trying to play it cool, he had the subtlety of a cinderblock.
“Did you know Khonsu had a wife?” You asked her another question, not ready to ponder the answer to her own.
Layla shook her head, using the back of her hand to wipe the sticky sweat from her forehead.
“He came to me last night after Natasha and I spent some time together. I think we remind him of what he used to have with Ruia. It was like he made his choice. Like he was done.”
She stopped and turned with a ferocity that was enough to snap her neck. There was confusion and then anger on her face. Layla wasn’t daft, she knew exactly what you were alluding to. There were Gods that had grown tired of their immortality before. The prospect of watching the world around you die had them craving the ever-falling sands. The deity equivalent to ending it all.
“No.” She closed the distance between the two of you “He can’t just let you die!”
You shushed her when a group of mothers walking their children around in strollers shot them wary looks. They were sidestepped and your voice found an even and soft tone. “Khonsu is the one keeping me alive, of course he can. Either way, I’m not meant to get the happy ending.”
Layla looked at you sadly, the tension in her body stifled with sudden realization. There was an odd type of peace that fell over her features, the same resignation that you felt last night. If you refused to take him to the Valley of Kings, then he’d sever the link right there and you wouldn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Natasha the way that you wanted.
But, if you led him there, if you took him through the cold walls and the quiet crypts, he’d give you some form of mercy for your service these past two and a half years. That mercy would be in the form of one last moment with the woman that had crashed into your life unceremoniously.
“I’ve been labeled as a mistake. A worm, and I finally found the one person who never questioned my potential.” You grasped both of her hands, sadly running your thumbs over her bruised knuckles. “I’m not meant to stop Khonsu, I’m meant to lead him to his love.”
“And what about yours?”
“She’ll be okay.” You gave her palms a squeeze. “You’ll make sure of it.”
Crescent 1/? | Natasha Romanoff x MoonKnight!Reader
Summary: When Natasha Romanoff takes a job as head of security for Dina Jackson she has an ulterior motive- to find the tomb of Egyptian artifacts that the art world is racing for. Dina's disgraced niece is charming, awkward, and under the influence of Khonsu, the God of the Moon.
Warnings: Subtle Violence, Family disputes, scary bird diety, and probably horrible grammar.
[A/N: I'm working super super hard on this one, and would appreciate some feedback 😭 I also don't have a posting schedule and know that I have a million other fics going right now- but I couldn't help myself!]
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There was always a stillness to the air in the museum that was hard to find anywhere else, a soft scent of something old that lingered within the light that streamed through the windows. It was four floors of knowledge and wonder, and paintings that were slathered with vibrant colors yet to fade. Dinosaur bones that were reconstructed by hand, guarded with velvet ropes and motion sensors, mummies that crossed their decaying arms over their chests, dead crystal eyes sweeping the room.
You found solace here among other things, that kept you coming back day after day. Your hands were blackened by charcoal, the neckline of your t-shirt suffering a similar fate. That was a nervous habit that you kept, toying with the fabric as you struggled to capture the light shading on Lady Madja’s coffin.
There was a small spot that you often made your own, your back against the marble wall of the room, one leg folded to your chest while the other was outstretching in front of you. For reasons that you personally did not understand, not many people found interest in the same Egyptian exhibit that had been at your local museum since you were a child.
“Didn’t you draw that yesterday?”
“No,” you grumbled, making a dark slash against the far end of the coffin. “I drew the outer coffin of Tamutnefret. You work here, shouldn’t’ you know the difference?”
You glanced up at Tommy. He had his thumbs in his belt loops, limp next to his heavy flashlight. The security guard wasn’t armed with anything except for a discontent with his job and a walkie talkie that could trigger a silent alarm. No one had tried to burglarize Hell’s Kitchen’s least frequented place yet, but they kept him around just in case.
He scoffed “They pay me to make sure this stuff doesn’t’ vanish, not to know everything about it. You should apply for a position here, tour guide or something. At least you’d earn some money from sitting here all day.”
“I like being here. I don’t need to get paid.”
He blinked at you, brushing his silver-blonde hair of his eyes as if he had never actually heard that phase before. You closed your sketch book, folding the flimsy notebook and shoving it into your back pocket before standing. The place was pretty slow today, not a field trip in sight.
Truth was; A little extra money wouldn’t hurt. Of course, you had your art, your studio that had been operating in lower Manhattan for the better part of a year now. It was doing well, well enough for you to fund the three-dollar admission fee to hold yourself up here. It was what some would call procrastination, but you deemed it a way to get out of the building.
“What is it about Egypt anyway? Plenty of other things to see here. Like space. I wouldn’t judge you for watching the light show every day but this” He gestured vaguely to the room “nothing is interesting about a bunch of decaying old bodies and sand. A shit ton of sand.”
“Egyptian deities are cool as fuck, Tommy.” You deadpanned “They represent not only power, but things in the everyday world like the sun, and the moon. 1500 of them, dude. Every single abstract concept you can come up with in your brain is represented by a deity.”
“Wow,” He drew out the word, his crystal eyes widening, cupping the back of his neck. “I never knew how much of a big fucking nerd you were. What plague did you plagiarize that from?”
You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him. Instead, you settled for a muted growl before glancing at your watch. It was hard to keep track of the day when you really focused on your sketches. Dinner, you were going to be late to dinner if you didn’t’ get on the subway now.
With a mock salute, you made your way out of the museum, giving a half-hearted goodbye to the receptionist and exiting onto the large stone steps. The spring air replaced the stale scent of the Egyptian exhibit. A quiet rain fell from the sky- the lights of passing taxis and buses reflected from the damp world.
You can’t be late for this dinner.
“Can you alter time and get me there faster?” You mumbled, shoving your hands into your pockets as you made your way down the steps. “Yeah, didn't think so. If you don’t have any constructive solutions, I could do without the mocking.”
You need to learn better time management.
Getting scolded by an ancient Bird God wasn’t on your list of things to do today. You had made a mistake by gassing him up too much back there. Khonsu lurked in most reflections, including the wet sidewalk. He rarely interfered, but the scheduled dinners made him nervous, an anxiety that you could feel up the center of your spine.
You wouldn’t be late.
Manifestation was a good part of how you got where you were today, and despite the strong stench of sweat and smoke in the overly crowded car of the subway, you knew that you wouldn’t’ miss your dinner with your aunt. So, help you, if you did. So, help Khonsu more.
Nervously, you glanced at your watch and shoved your way through some disgruntled New Yorkers that mumbled profanities under their breath. They’d get over it, you knew they would. Your family, however, had a harder time forgiving you. It was only three blocks, three blocks that you would have to sprint in order to get to.
I don’t know why you sit through these things. We don’t need them. I can get us everything we want.
“Shut up,” You mumbled, panting under your breath. His voice was all-encompassing, and a little bit bored. The only reason you continued to attend these family get togethers was because it annoyed him. Bothered him that you still cared. You mothers roast chicken sealed the deal too.
By the time you made it to the all too fancy lobby of the apartment building, you had a stitch in your side and a coat of sweat against your skin that instantly made you regret being a little late in exchange for general hygiene.
“Y/N, you’re cutting it close.” Bennet gave you a tight smile, reaching out his white gloved hand and opened the gold-plated door. You shot him a tender look and nodded before gulping in a breath of air.
There was thankfully a bathroom in the back corner of the lobby. It was fancier than your own apartment, with lavender smelling soaps and towels that were warmed to perfection. Mumbling profanities under your breath, you stripped your backpack, and your coat before grabbing a towel, and loading it with soap.
You worked hard to scrub the sweat and charcoal from your collarbone and then you moved to under your arms, scrubbing hard until the only thing you could smell was a floral sweetness.
It was then that you noticed you weren’t alone in the bathroom. The granite stall door behind you opened, and you froze in your movements. This woman- this woman was stunning enough for words to get caught in the web of your throat.
Her auburn hair was styled into waves, rolling over her shoulders, a black blouse hugging her curves. The bright bulbs above the sinks reflected brutally in her forest green stare. It seemed to pierce you, regard you as she made no effort to disguise the way it lingered. Your stomach felt hot.
“Am I interrupting something?” She asked, taking a few steps towards the furthest sink. She flicked on the water and pumped a few globs of soap into her palm. You awkwardly, lowered your arm, throwing the wad of towels into a basket.
“Ah, no” you cleared your throat “public… restroom”
Okay, you could do this, talking to a pretty woman wasn’t anything new. You did it on a daily basis when you ran into one of the actual tour guides at the museum. Of course, you spouted off about Egyptian lore and barely took a breath between words- but it was considered talking.
This time, though, you swallowed hard and grabbed your jacket, your bag, and fumbled your way out of the bathroom before she even had a chance to dry her hands. Another deep breath, another mortifying moment before you’d have to worm your way through an uncomfortable family dinner.
Just as the doors to the elevator closed, the stranger from the bathroom slipped into the small space. You nudged yourself into the corner, offering the beautiful woman up a timid smile. “Going up?”
Of course, she’s going up. Where else would she be going?
Fucking bird brain loved to watch you squirm. You wished this was one of the moments where the God of the Moon found a different use for his time instead of following his avatar around. There had to be something else to preoccupy him other than your horrible rapt sheet of talking to women.
“Penthouse, please.”
You hit the button and it lit up a stale blue. Khonsu watched you from the plated mirrors that encircled the elevator. If he could have a shit-eating grin, he would. Instead, he just regarded you from his unnatural height. You had practice ignoring him.
“Small world, me too.”
“Really?” She lifted an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I mean” You shoved your hands into your jean pockets “after awhile it doesn’t benefit you to dress up for this kind of thing. Not that you look bad. You look very nice I just…should stop talking now.”
“Huh,” She smiled at you then, a soft gesture that nearly eased all the tension in the elevator. Nearly. Khonsu had flickered out entirely. You couldn’t feel his looming presence anymore. The higher the floor the lighter you felt. He wouldn’t accompany you here, he had his own agenda.
When you glanced up, the woman’s eyes were on you again, trying to figure out how someone like you had gotten invited to the meal of the cities most famed art curator. You still held your jacket, your bag in white-knuckled hands. But still, you offered up your own smile in return.
The elevator lurched to a stop. A separate keypad lit up and you reached for your keyring before buzzing both of you in. The entryway was large and sterile, a mix of cherry red wood, stainless steel and elegance. The penthouse had two floors that overlooked the city, it’s flashing lights, it’s large windows.
You could smell the Italian that wafted from the kitchen. It was usually served family style, in large basins filled with marinara and pasta. Your stomach clenched at the thought of food, having half-heartedly eaten a bagel from a bodega this morning.
At least you weren’t the only one that had strolled in late. When your mother rounded the edge of the stairs, she had a disapproving look on her face that was soon schooled into something that was semi acceptable for company that wasn’t family.
“Darling, you’re running late.” She moved close and placed a kiss against your cheek “I see you’ve met Miss Rushman, our new chief of security, or so we hope.”
“My apologies, I hit a particularly bad patch of traffic. I hope Aunt Dina isn’t too displeased.”
She waved you off “Nonsense. A nice bottle of wine and all will be forgiven. Let me take both of your coats.”
A nice bottle of wine was enough to reduce you to ramen noodles for the rest of the month, but you would never admit that to your family. That would be a fate worse than death. You took your mother up on her offer, passing her your coat in succession to the woman next to you.
Your family, namely your aunt and her husband, supplied the museums with all of their greatest exhibits, including the Egyptian one that you spent so much time in, sketching the same things over and over again until you got the shading right, got the shapes and the colors and the way the light shifted around the items throughout the year.
When you were young, you’d accompany her around the world, clutching your tiny passport and taking in the wonders of the trade conventions she would go to, the dig sites and castles that had been reclaimed by nature.
She could barely stand to make eye contact with you now, and part of you didn’t’ blame her for that. Being invited to their family dinners had been your mother’s idea, she prodded and poked at her sister until the woman agreed. Though, showing up late never boded well.
You blew out a small breath and made your way to the kitchen, trying to shake off the nerves that buzzed through you. A beautiful woman wasn’t going to knock you off your game. You had a dignity to uphold, though half the people here had seen you stumble through dance lessons as a kid.
There was a platter of different meats and cheeses set out on the kitchen island, a few bottles of chilled red wine. You reached for the wine wrack and pulled down two glasses, free of smudges. “You can’t get through one of these without a little bit of a buzz, Miss Rushman.”
“Natalie, please.” She stood across the island from you, watching carefully as you popped the cork and filled both glasses generously with alcohol.
“I’m Y/N,”
She took the drink that you had offered, taking a few generous gulps. You smiled into your own glass, the sour scent. It hit the back of your throat and the edges of your jaw but quickly cooled your nerves. You’d have to get some food into you fast, a spare cracker or fancy cheese that you couldn’t pronounce.
“Don’t take this the wrong way. I certainly wouldn’t want to offend the family that has offered me such a generous position,”
“I don’t look like I belong here.” You finished her thought process with a swallow of wine.
She chuckled, a sweet sound. “No, you don’t.”
“I get that a lot, don’t worry. As far as they’re concerned, I’m not supposed to be here.” You frowned and shoved a cracker into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Head of security, huh?”
“Not yet, I think this is supposed to convince me.” she sighed, leaning against the counter. You directed your attention to the flashing time on the oven behind her. Her blouse dipped low, eyes scanning you. More than anything, you fought the urge to look respectfully. “Best behavior and all”
When your aunt walked into the kitchen, you couldn’t quell the way your pulse picked up against the inside of your wrist. Instead, you straightened up and adjusted your collar as if you weren’t still wearing a t-shirt, slightly damp with the idea of lavender.
Natalie righted herself as well, pulling her shoulders back and taking in your aunt much like she had regarded you earlier, this time her stare was less honeyed and more tactical. The woman carried a certain elegance to her; Deep golden eyes, and long blonde hair that was died a lighter beige at the roots.
“Miss Rushman, I’m so pleased you could make it.” She took the woman’s hand in her perfectly manicured one. “I see you’ve met my niece. Don’t let her change your mind about accepting the position.”
You rolled your eyes and finished off your glass of wine. It was better not to argue with her, seeing as you had already stirred the pot with your tardiness. This was fine, everything was fine. You just had to breathe through it.
“Actually, she’s been perfectly charming.” Natalie said, shooting you a smile “We had a great conversation on the way up. She convinced me to take the position.”
The drink you had just downed threatened to make a second appearance as you choked on air, swallowing hard to stifle your shock. If standing there nervously sweating was enough to push a woman like this into accepting a position at the company, you weren’t aware of it.
“Y/N did?” Your Uncle Chip placed his hand on the small of Dina’s back. He was nursing a scotch that he would gingerly sip until the fire died down as well as the conversation. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to have you on the team, Miss Rushman, but our Y/N? She tends to be-“
“Right here,” You spoke up.
He chuckled “Socially awkward. Passionate about certain things.”
Fuck. You really did need to count your blessings. If Khonsu wasn’t here, that was enough for you for the time being. You seemed to trade hands from the God to the family that would rather shun you.
“Passion is good,” Natalie said, “Do I smell spaghetti?”
Aunt Dina clapped her hands together and let out an excited noise before leading the way to the dining room. Chip grasped at the tray of food that you handed over to him. You palmed your glass and a small wicker basket of rolls to busy yourself.
“Thank you, Miss Rushman.” You whispered to her as you made your way to the dining room, swearing that she fought back a shiver. She gave you a pointed look “Natalie.”
You couldn’t help but feel a heat bloom against your abdomen, despite being wedged between your Aunt Dina and your own mother. You’d rather be back the museum, or home, or doing anything but this. But Natalie seemed to ease that in the slightest, as she met your eyes across the table.
I don’t know, I personally feel like Bruce would used more unorthodox methods such as gaslighting, making reader question reality and their identity and psychological damage mixed with drugs to disoriented or go similar with wonder women contingency plan like virtual-reality simulation.
Whatever works lol, tbh maybe bruce has like different plans specifically for mk!reader with how unorthodox they are.
"We will use plan 21Z."
"What happened to 1A through 20Z?"
"Those didn't work."
But anyway, question here, if bruce tries to gaslight mk!reader wouldnt he have to try to do that with all the personalities that mk!reader has? Cause I don't think it would work on all of them if he only gaslights 1, right? Or am I overthinking this lmao. But then again, if bruce relied on drugs then I guess it would just affect them all anyway.
Hold up, what do you mean by lobotomy? How would that play out? Would it be alternative route to the story?
Once upon a time I and the anons that visited my blog talked about lobotomy because I had mentioned it in passing about a surgery I had.
Low n behold, we incorporated it in the batfam
How it got mixed in was someone mentioning how in one of batman's plans, he lobotomized jason so to speak. And that he could do the same for moon knight reader to stop/fix them
Basically batman would perform lobotomy on mk!reader to "get rid of" of mk!reader's DID. I think we also talked about the possibility of batman believing that "khonshu" was just a figment of mk!reader's imagination and what not.
Tbh, I havent considered it being an alternate route. Mainly because I havent gotten that far 👀
