#Natasha Romanoff x Moonknight!Reader

[witchthewriter]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

(slightly different to the one bed trope - you’re already in a sort of established relationship. And this is the very first time you’re sharing a bed as a couple). 

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

a/n: tell me what you think about adding in the character photos, do we like it or not?? Because I can’t decide...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ    

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿  

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢

・You know his sly smile? Yeah... he did that ... a lot. 

・It wasn’t that he had somehow tricked you into staying over. No, no, if anything you imposed yourself onto him. 

・But his smug smile never left his lips, not for one goddamn second. 

・It made you weak at the knees, but your relationship had been built on this love/hate, back and forth, bantery thing. Where you sometimes pretend to ignore the others advances; but you both know you want each other so goddamn badly

・His sultry voice is like a siren’s song, you couldn’t help but go along with whatever he had to say. It was one of the things he loved to tease you about. Which drove you insane. 

・On certain days you’re able to ignore it, or give him a bit of his own medicine. But sometimes you just want so desperately to be near Loki

・There’s something about him that just makes you feel so many things at once. Annoyance, desire, anger, excitement. 

・For most people, it just stopped at annoyance and anger. But for you ... because Loki loved you, yes, loved you, he let you see a side to himself that no other ever had. 

・And when you said you were sleeping at his place because yours was compromised, he was elated. 

・Did he clean up his house, deep clean everything and change the bed sheets? Yes. 

・Surprise surprise, his bedroom was in black and green with hints of gold. His bed king size (obviously)

・By the time you got to Loki’s place it was dark outside, and he made you dinner. Trying your best not to scoff it down, you could feel the tension radiating off of him 

・Even though you weren’t tired, you followed Loki into the bedroom just because he wanted you to fall asleep beside him 

・As if he could tell you weren’t tired, he started to hum. A tune from his childhood that his mother would sing to him at night when he couldn’t sleep

・You rolled over onto his chest, your leg covering his. 

・The soft thump of his heartbeat made it so easy to relax. Loki’s hand slowly ran up and down your back, while the other held your own. 

・Loki is a night owl rather than a morning bird, so the next morning - he was very grumpy

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚

・So excited about it. She couldn’t wait to watch movies with you in bed, all cuddled up and cosy

・Wanda changed the sheets and pillow cases (even going out to buy new ones - in your favourite colour) and got a few extra pillows to make it cosier 

・Of course the majority of this was done using magic so it didn’t tire her out by the time you came over 

・Excited! Excited! Excited! 

・She wants to show you the room as soon as you walk in but doesn’t want to make a big deal of it at the same time?

・When you finally make it to the bedroom, you’re both a bit shy as to who slept on which side. 

     “On the count of three, we’ll say whichever side we want. Okay?” 

・You nodded and turns out you both wanted the other side. So it was easy sorted

・You both couldn’t stop talking, it was like a proper sleepover. And whenever you wanted a snack, Wanda would make it appear right before your eyes (perks of having a magical s/o)

・Her hands are constantly running through or over your hair

・Even though you’ve been in a relationship for a few months, she suddenly becomes very self-conscious and blushes at nearly everything you say 

・Likes when you initiate affection, especially hand holding or kissing

・The tv is on all night because you both fall asleep watching your favourite shows 

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

・Awkward about it!!!

・Hasn’t been able to sleep in a bed for a long time. Usually he lays in his loungeroom, on the floor, the wall against his back. 

・Since you came along, he’s been staying on the lounge, feeling a bit more at ease whenever you’re near 

・When it was the first time for a proper sleepover, Bucky was ... so ... unsure of what to do. 

・He didn’t know if you wanted to sleep on the left or right, so he said you can pick

・He was fine with whatever decision you made. Bucky just wanted you to be comfortable

・And because Bucky isn’t used to the company at his place - he usually just shows up at yours. Because there’s something about your place; it warms him, makes him feel bright

・So when you get into Bucky’s barely used bed, he took off his arm and felt ... so vulnerable 

     “Hey, it’s okay,” you whispered in the dark, almost knowing what Bucky was thinking. 

・You fall asleep facing each other, your hand on his cheek, and his on your waist. 

・You didn’t know how long it took for either of you to fall asleep. But for Bucky... it was very quick. Something that hadn’t happened in ... well, since the 1940s. 

𝐍𝐚𝐭

・Outwardly confident, inside she was so sensitive about this 

・It’s the vulnerability for her. She doesn’t let people get this close, and yet here you are. In her home, seeing the real Nat. 

・She honestly didn’t think your relationship would go this far. But somehow you got past her defenses. YOU made her feel safe. Which was a nice change - and something that didn’t happen very often

・She was always the person who saved others, who was the one to protect. And now, to feel protected, it was an amazing sensation. 

・But it did take a long time for her to let you into her home. And then sleepovers would happen but rarely. Now they became more frequent - but she always took the couch. 

・You never challenged her on it, knowing that it was a big move to sleep in the same bed as someone. 

・Because as she explained before, she would have one night stands; but never at her place. 

・It would be a breach of security and put the other person at risk

・But having you here meant you had great power yourself, and no one wanted to fuck with you 

・So, finally. After all this time, she agreed to let you into her room, into her bed. Nothing sexual, only to sleep. 

・You let her make the moves, because you didn’t want to push her in any way possible. 

・But she led you upstairs and opened the door to a simple yet stylish room. A mixture of deep colours; maroon, emerald, deep blue. It had a royal essence to it. 

・And you walked in, admiring everything. Because a person’s room shows a person’s soul. 

・For a moment she just stood in the doorway, just admiring you. Nat was so overwhelmed with love

・When you were both ready for bed she turned off all the lights and got into bed

・You were automatically the big spoon

・Wrapping your arms around her, she let herself be cuddled. Which was also very new. 

・Cuddling was something that was foreign to Nat. Not having it in her childhood, or teenage years ... or adulthood. 

・She felt both overwhelming happiness and sadness for her younger self. And for one moment, she shed a tear

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞

・Very much the gentleman everyone thinks he is

・Even though you had been in a relationship, and for quite a while, it was the first time you guys were ready to share the bed (he wanted to take the relationship slow. He called it, ‘going steady’)

・Even after all this time together, he still insisited that he can sleep on the couch

   “Steve, we’re in a relationship. I think it’s okay if we sleep in the same bed.” 

“I just don’t want to make you feel pressured, or uncomfortable.” 

    “Do you think I would ever let someone make me feel pressured, or uncomfortable?” 

・One look at you - from anyone - and their answer would be a firm ‘no.’ There was a reason you were a high risk on every countries radar. 

・Who thought Steve liked the badass type?

・But when it came to him...well, Steve was your weak spot. 

・So, when you agreed to go steady, a lot of people were shocked. (Not Nat though, she knew you two were made for each other.) 

   “Okay, you got a point,” Steve replied, looking at you from across the couch. 

・Movie nights were a regular thing with you two. And this one was long awaited - you finally got to show him your favourite movie of all time. 

・When your eyes started to droop, and Steve couldn’t stop yawning, he took your hand and walked you to his bedroom. 

・It was immaculate. Everything was in its place, nothing was out of order, not even the pencils on his desk. He was the complete opposite to you. And yet, somehow you two worked. 

・After taking a shower (he let you go first and while he was in the bathroom, you couldn’t help but take a look around his room) 

・Steve came out with only a pair of pajama pants...no shirt. And you nearly gasped. Of course you had seen him without a shirt on plenty of times, but usually there was other people around 

・But now ... it was just you and him.

     “Ready to ... go to bed?” Steve said with a soft smile. 

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤

・A lot of ‘umming,’ and ‘ahhing,’ and moving things out of the way.

・He didn’t expect you to sleep over, but you were too tired to go home, so you asked if you could stay

・Frank was ecstatic, and offered to sleep on the couch (he just couldn’t wait to have someone else in the house. To make food for someone else; especially breakfast)

・You huffed a laugh and shook your head

   “Are we not ... you know ... together?” 

“Ha, yes, yes we are,” he replied gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

・He knew this moment had to come, but he just didn’t know when. Frank did want to take the relationship slow, and you both agreed to do just that. 

・So at four months in, you thought it would be okay to have your first ... sleepover 

   “Here,” Frank had disappeared from the loungeroom for a few minutes, and you were wondering where the hell he had gone. 

・But he came back with a shirt and a pair of pajama pants

・Your neck felt red as you realised they were his clothes, but your heart fluttered because...once again he was thinking about you. That’s all Frank seemed to do - was think about you and what you needed

・Once you were both ready for bed (brushing your teeth & having a shower etc)

・He walked you into his room, where he had already made it spotless and pulled back the covers; waiting for you. 

   “I wasn’t sure which side you wanted, hell you can sleep in the middle if you want,” he chuckled and gave you a half-smile

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭

・100% more awkward than Bucky

・You know all about his background, Marc and Konshu. So you aren’t afraid or taken aback when you see the ring of sand around his bed

・Although he doesn’t need to tape the door shut anymore

・And he said that if he does leave, then he’ll leave a note

・You’ve slept over a few times, but he’s always taken the couch in the other room

・But you thought this would be another step in your relationship and he agreed (you’re really transparent with each other. If you’re not comfortable with something, said person feels safe to say what is on their heart)

・The way each of you acted was so sweet. 

・He was tentative, gentle, even asking if you need a cup of tea or a hot water bottle. He really sees you as the best thing in his life, and he treats you with so much love. 

・When you both got settled; the silence felt defening. 

・But when Steven went to talk, you shushed him.

      “It’s okay not to talk, don’t feel like you have to.” 

・He nodded and you could only see because of the light coming in from the windows

・You rolled over and backed against Steven. He turned and nuzzled into your back, wrapping his arms around you. 

・Within 10 minutes you were asleep and within 20 so was Steven. 

・And when he woke up the next day ... he was in the exact same position

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫

・It was you who wanted to take your relationship a bit slower - not wanting to be another person that Thor kept for a short period of time before he had other things to do 

・But your relationship started strong and remained strong; to the surprise of both Thor and yourself 

・He’s very proud to call you his. You’re a brilliant person, and he thinks that you make him better

・So, he’s very ... proud that he gets to sleep beside you. 

・ When you entered his chambers, he ran and jumped on the bed, beckoning you to do the same 

・It creaks and for a second you’re scared it was going to break

・It wouldn’t be the first time that Thor had broken something 

・TAKES UP THE MAJORITY OF THE BED

・Lays side by side with you, like an excited kid on his first sleepover

・Asks you all these random questions and you’re so taken aback but go along with it 

    “Do you ever think about your destiny and why you were put on earth?” “Have you farted in public and blamed it on someone else?” “How many books have you read?” 

・And ends up being a blanket stealer; not meaning to though, he just moves around a lot in his sleep. So, he gets tangled in the blankets. 

・SNORES SNORES SNORES. You ended up asking if he had a medical condition... 

・Wants to cuddle with you but the next morning you woke up unable to breath because Thor was completely on top of you 

・Thor falls asleep very easily, and it takes a lot for him to wake up. But he is an early bird, unless he’s been drinking 

[upon-a-starry-night]

Ficmas!

A/n: I've never done a Ficmas before so it might be a bit different then what you're used to. I've used multiple characters for some of the prompts so they might have the same intro but I promise their outcomes will be different

~~~

🎄Prompt 1: You need a bit of help getting your Christmas tree into your apartment so you ask your neighbor for help

★Spencer Reid

★Natasha Romanoff

★MoonKnight

🎄Prompt 2: Fake dating at a Christmas party...with your boss

★Kylo Ren

🎄Prompt 3: Mistletoe

★Connor(Dbh)

~~~

I still need some more prompt ideas so if you guys have any let me know please!! ~ Starry

[thisisarcanereverie]

May i request a Yandere Moonknight System with a reader who’s like visiting London on work or something and they meet one of the boys. over their stay they get close as the boys show them around London and they sort of ignore the fact reader eventually has to leave untill they tell the boys they’re leaving the next day and they snap and take reader. Idk if that makes sense. 🤍

Cutting Ties (Dark! Moon Knight x Reader)

A/N: This is Part 1 of a 3 Part fic. This is also a dark fic so please DNI Minors and others. (I got a little carried away with this idea Anon so thank you for the suggestion)

Now if you can interact or want to, please do! Like, reblog, reply!

DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS: kidnapping, angst (like a ridiculous amount of it), light cursing, I've never been to London or England in general so I'm going based off of what I've seen, English is my first language I just suck at it. I do not own the picture above but i DO own the header below, it's something that I made. I might make a few others idk. Enjoy!

Summary: You're a former Widow on the run, only in London for a year you meet Steven Grant, a goofy gift shoppist. But is there more that meets the eye?

You weren’t sure what it was about London, maybe it was the almost constant cloud looming over the city-or perhaps it was the way you barely understood what the people around you were saying- but you didn’t get what all the hype was about. Yes, it was beautiful if you put a filter over it looking at it through a tourist’s perspective. However, looking past all the buzz and touristy wonder, it was just like every other city- gray, busy, and foul smelling–filled to the brim with more people than it could possibly provide for. The only difference was the currency and the fact that everyone sounded like they came out of either Downtown Abbey or Derby Girls. 

You sighed as you reminded yourself that you were only going to be stuck here for another year, until this identity expired, then you got to go somewhere else, maybe somewhere warm and remote. Though you doubt it, that’s the thing about being on the run–you don’t get to choose where you go. You’ve been running close to 8 years now, almost a decade. Ever since Natasha Romanoff sent the Red Room hurdling from the sky and freed every Widow in the process, including you. How you got here exactly was a very long story, with parts you would rather not relive. 

You looked out the window of the bus, filled with thoughts of nothing but warm places with lots of sun and color with next to no people around. You could probably stay there longer than usual, hell maybe forever if you were careful. You could feel a small smile gracing your features as you thought of a nice, quaint home; decorated with plants, a nice kitchen to practice cooking in–oh and a sunroom that doubled as a greenhouse of sorts. You started making a list of flowers you would like to grow when you felt a sudden, foreign weight on your shoulder. You turned your head away from the silver light of the window towards the dark mess of curls next to you. You recognize him almost immediately, you don’t know his name but he always got off at that museum you’ve been meaning to visit, he always looked so tired with dark almost bruise like circles under his eyes; his dark hair almost in a permanent state of unkempt. You looked at his face a bit longer before your eyes trailed to his hands, his knuckles were white with how harshly he was gripping his bag and sweat was starting to form on his brow. A nightmare. You got those as well. 

As gently as you could you shook him, it didn’t take much until he bolted upright and took a few very sharp breaths. You could see his eyes dart erratically in fear before finally settling on you, you couldn’t help but remark on the lovely shade of brown his eyes were. A moment or two passed by before his eyes met the ground and his cheeks flushed. 

“I’m so sorry” he hurriedly apologized, eyes still trained on the ground, “didn’t realize I nodded off there.” 

“It’s quite alright,” you assured smiling gently at him, “if you don’t mind me asking but do you suffer from nightmares often?” his eyes went from the ground back at you, “I don’t mean to pry it’s just that I’ve seen you a few times on here and you always look exhausted.” 

“Yeah um,” he cleared his throat, “I, uh, I would guess so– not that I can’t tell the difference– it’s just complicated to explain–not that I wouldn’t tell you if I could, it’s just the best way I can explain it and I probably sound like such a knob.” You hold in a slight chuckle as his cheeks flush even more. 

“I don’t think so,” you say, “I get those kinds of dreams often as well. The ones you feel like they belong to someone else…but not at the same time, I guess it really is difficult to explain out loud.” you hold out your hand and introduce yourself as the man beside you hesitantly accepts it. 

“Steven Grant.” 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

That was almost a year ago, after introducing yourselves you gave him your number (which he called not even an hour after he got off the bus). At first you would just meet up for tea but tea quickly became more intimate. You would call each other during the nights that were the hardest to sleep or to dream. You would tell him about your hope to live somewhere remote one day, in a place full of sunshine and color and he would be silent and listen. It wasn’t long until he confided in you about his condition, and you met Marc Spector and Jake Lockely respectively. 

You weren’t sure why but when Marc appeared he seemed familiar, for a moment you wondered if you had met him at some point but you were sure that you would’ve remembered. The Red Room forced you to have a good memory after all. 

Jake on the other hand was completely different from Steven and Marc, where Steven was shy and Marc stiff, Jake was suave. He had kissed your hand and said dirty things to you in spanish, to which you surprised him by replying fluently and dirtier. 

After some time you grew comfortable with Marc and Jake and went on dates with them as well. For a while you were happy, first time ever since coming to London. You were practically living in Steven’s small flat and you spent your days living as a normal person would. You pretended not to notice the weird things, like them leaving in the middle of the night or the strange looks they would sometimes get looking at absolutely nothing. You never pried or judged, it wasn’t like you aired out all the skeletons in your closet either. You never told them your real name (or at least the name the Red Room gave you) or where you came from or basically anything of substance at all about your past. You didn’t want to, it wasn’t like you didn’t trust them, but you feared what would happen if you did tell them. Tell them your real name, that you used to be a Black Widow and killed people. That the reason why you hated the color red was because it reminded you of the Red Room and the blood that stained your hands, how your nightmares were memories and that ghosts that haunted you refused to die. 

Somewhere along the way you started to forget that this life you were living with your job and your boys wouldn’t last forever. That sooner or later reality creeps in and brutally murders the fantasy you have created and as you hold the almost expired passport in your hand you remember the cold truth. That you never should’ve gotten involved, that you slipped and got attached and worst of all..you’d gotten someone else attached as well. Without you knowing the year you had left in London was almost up, in less than two months you will be off again to a new corner of the world with a new name and a new life. 

Deep down though you knew, knew that you couldn’t not go. Choosing to remain this person you’ve created with her perfectly normal job with her perfectly normal life with her not so normal–but still perfect–boyfriend was never an option. Too many people want you, for various reasons from recruitment to revenge for what you did as a Widow; and those people would stop at nothing to get to you, even if that meant hurting someone you’ve loved. 

You’re doing this, for them, you had to leave. There was no other option, and it was better to break it off now rather than leaving in the middle of the night. You fought the urge to be selfish, to keep living this life with them until you board your one way flight. So with a deep breath you stuffed your passport back into its folder in the drawer you owned and grabbed your trench coat and umbrella. You did not let a single tear fall as you hauled a cab to take you to the familiar route to their flat. You tried not to think at all, you knew if thought for a little too long you would talk yourself out of this. You knew this would probably be easier over text, you wouldn’t need to tell those big brown eyes goodbye and see them fill with tears or hate. It would be so easy…but you couldn’t. You knew that if you didn’t end it in person Steven, Marc, or Jake would show up at your door and wouldn’t leave until you did what you were doing right now. Telling them in person that it was over. 

You didn’t waste time when the cab stopped in front of his building, you told the driver to wait and that you would be back down in just a few moments. Your heels clacked against the wet pavement towards the door which a kind, elderly neighbor of Steven’s you’ve gotten to know opened the door for you to which you smiled and thanked him. Every move you made was robotic, you weren’t even thinking you were just on auto pilot. Hoping that they wouldn’t be able to tell the slight shake in your hand or how stiff you were. You reminded yourself that you were doing this for them, and for you as well. 

You entered the lift and pressed the button for their floor, the fluorescent light flickers a few times and the hum and rattle of the wires lifting the metal box do nothing to quiet the thrumming of your heart. Seconds pass by like hours before finally the sliding doors reveal the dimly lit hallway. One you’ve walked through dozens of times by now looks more like death row. You let not one tear drop as you walked, you couldn’t–you couldn’t let those doubting thoughts and happy memories pass through your head as you knocked on his door. Hearing a shuffling and the clattering of dishes before you hear them walk to the door. You could tell by the slight difference in gait that Steven was fronting and it hurt. You had hoped silently that it wouldn’t be him, your sweet Steven, with his unkempt curls and goofy grin. One who read you facts about Egyptian mythology and ancient history during stormy nights, who woke you from nightmares and held you gently like you were the most precious thing to ever exist. The sleepy man on the bus who laid his head on your shoulder and slept, who called you not even an hour after giving him your number. Please not him. 

He opened the door and sure enough it was Steven. 

“There you are love,” He said, a wide smile adorning his face as he ushered you in, “Me and the boys were wondering where you were,” he kissed your cheek and took your coat, “dinners almost ready if you need to wash up.” You stood there motionless, unsure of what to do. This wasn’t the first time you’ve cut ties with someone that you’ve cared for. However this was different, he was different. Steven, Marc, and Jake were probably the first people you’ve ever loved. You would do anything for them, anything, as long as they lived and were content and happy. 

Even if it meant hurting them. 

Even if it meant you could only watch from afar. 

You took in a deep breath, willed your heart to stop beating before speaking. 

“Steven.” He stopped immediately, you never called him by his name, only ever called him your sweetheart, or baby, or whatever other nickname came into mind but never his name. He turned away from the little stovetop and looked at you. You willed your voice to not falter as you continued, “we all need to talk.” 

“Oh god,” Steven whispered, “how bad?” 

“We need to talk,” You said not answering, “please.” 

Wordlessly Steven turned the stove off as he made his way to you, you held up your hand when he was only a few steps away. 

“Are they present?” You asked. 

“They weren’t before but now they are,” He said, eyes furrowing in worry, “we’re starting to get a little worried love what’s going on?”  

“I,” you start before swallowing the lump that has suddenly formed in your throat, “I’ve gotten a call from the main office, they’re relocating me in a few months to help on a different classified project.” 

“Oh,” Steven said with confusion written all over his face, “where?” 

“That’s classified.” You said, nails biting into your palm to stop yourself from getting emotional. 

“When will you be back?” 

Silence fills the room, you bite back the urge to say anything that would give him hope. After a few seconds you see his eyes widen as he looks at the mirror beside you. 

“No,” he said to the mirror, “no, no she’s not,” he turns to you with tears pricking his dark eyes making them shine, “love, tell them that you’re not-” 

“I am,” you say, careful to keep a cold tone despite the urge to cry, “I’m not coming back. It’s a permanent relocation.” 

“But you can still come to visit,” he says hurriedly, tears still pricking his eyes as he runs a hand through his hair, “we-we, we can um, we can face-call or um, or we can text and call and we can make this work, I know we can make this work love.” you opened your mouth to say something when he cut you off, a few tears leaking through and leaving wet streaks down his cheek, “or you could tell them no, tell them that you refuse the offer!” 

“I can’t say no,” you said gently. 

“Yes you can,” Steven said, his large hands gripping your shoulders, “you can tell them no.” 

“I can’t Steven,” you tell him, “I’ll lose my job if I do and I can’t.” 

“Then we can face call,” he says, his hands now cradling your face, leaving small kisses on your face that feel like knives in your heart, “we can make this work.” 

“We can’t,” you said as you gently pry his hands from your face, you reach into your pocket and grab the spare key he gave you after a month into your relationship and put it in his hand. “I’m sorry.” 

“Wait,” Steven says silently, his head hung, his crying seemingly subsided “can you please stay, stay with me, be with me until you go.” 

A moment of silence happens, for a moment you reconsider, but then you kiss his lips. Salt and vegan chocolate stain your tongue until you pull back, resting your forehead against his momentarily. You imagine what life you could’ve had with them, one full of good days and bad days. You’d adopt a cat with him, you would laugh as he declared the cat his mortal enemy for looking at Gus for a moment too long. You’d save up together and buy a nice cottage in the countryside, maybe you’d get married, maybe you wouldn’t. But you could imagine what it would be like to grow old with him, when your hair would turn white and gray, when your skin would start to sag and he would still be there to tell you you’re as beautiful as the day he met you on that small bus all those years ago. It’s a nice life, one you know you would be more than content with. 

But you know it’s not a life you can have. 

“Goodbye.” 

With that you left, closing the door behind you and walking to the lift. Walking away from the life you knew you could never live, not without constantly looking over your shoulders. You knew secrets always have ways of coming to the light, so even if you did stay how long would it be until he discovered yours. How long until he has a gun to his head and a target on his back? No, this was the choice, this was the only option. You made the right call, while you may not get to live that life; he still could. He’ll find someone else, someone to love and who will hopefully love him as much. 

The doors slid closed and the wires hummed and groaned as they lifted you back down where the cab was waiting. You decided to walk and paid the cab for their time. You knew with the heels you were wearing you would regret it later but you didn’t care, you needed some time to think. You walked through the lit streets, you watched as people laughed and a few occasionally public criers. You stopped and waved at the living statue man that Steven introduced to you before walking on. This was a path that you and the boys would walk sometimes, they didn’t like going out much and neither did you, but the exercise did you good. You checked your phone to see how much time you had left before you had to board your flight. It seemed like you had enough time to go home, grab your duffle and carry on before the cab you called before you left arrived. 

“Excuse me miss,” You turned to see a little girl no older than ten addressing you. She was a small thing, with dark curls and even darker eyes, she dressed as a white gown with a flower crown. “Do you care for some flowers?” You remember briefly seeing similarly dressed kids in the plaza not too far away, you gathered that maybe she had wandered away from the group unnoticed. 

“You know what,” You kneeled down to her height, “I would love some flowers, but first let’s get you back to your group alright?” the girl looked around as if she’s realizing she’s not where she’s supposed to be, for a moment you’re worried about her crying as you see tears start forming in her eyes. You take the hand not holding onto the small basket of flower seeds gently, “don’t cry little one, we’ll get you back to your group all safe and sound.” You see her nod as she holds your hand in her tiny one as you lead her back to the brightly lit plaza just a few buildings away. She points to two women frantically looking and calling out a name. You let her hand go and watch as she runs towards who you assume are her mothers. 

“Oh my stars,” you hear the taller woman breathe out in relief, “where did you run off too?” 

“I-I went to go give flowers.” You heard the little girl sniffle before she pointed at you, “she helped me.” You gave a small awkward smile and wave before the smaller woman gave you a hug. 

“Thank you so much,” She said before letting you go. “We were talking with the play director for one mo and the next-”

“No need,” you said, “she’s a sweet kid, adventurous too apparently.”

“You have no idea.” the mother sighed as she looked at the now giggling child in her wife's arms, “Angie loves to get into trouble.” you see her smile before returning her gaze back to you, “anyways thank you again.” 

“No problem,” you say before turning your eyes towards Angie and her taller mother, “it was nice to meet you, and you too Angie–listen to your mum’s.” you went to walk away before you felt a soft tug on your sleeve. You looked down to see Angie holding up a packet of flower seeds to you. 

“Here’s your flower miss,” Angie said sweetly, tears long gone, “thank you for helping me find my mum’s.” you gently take the packet of seeds from her and smile,

 “you’re welcome, good luck with your play.” You said as you waved her goodbye as she went to take her place next to the various other children in similar attire. You stood there a moment longer, watching this small family you’ve encountered. All you’ve ever known of family was what the Red Room told you of. Your birth certificate was destroyed along with every other Widow’s, even then you doubt that your parents still walked the earth. Dreykov wasn’t one to leave loose ends. 

You walked away from the plaza then, away from the brightly lit place and back onto dimly lit streets making your way past the few passersby and back to your building where a single duffle bag and carry on waited for you. 

You had been brave the entire day, you had not let a single tear drop but once the door to your flat closed behind you all the resolve you had crumbled. You slid down the door as tears profusely fell down your cheeks leaving hot traces behind. You couldn’t hold back the sobs that had threatened to come out earlier. Your fingers shakily trace your lips as you hold onto the last kiss you shared with him. Your hand then went to your chest and clutched the material of your shirt as a sharp, throbbing pain in your chest grew. Every part of you was screaming, all for different things. There was physical pain like the ache in your feet and the pain in your chest, but the emotional pain–that was the worst of it. This was the kind of pain that teetered between hell and heaven.

So this was it. 

This was heartbreak. 

You don’t know how long you stayed there–teetering–but you knew you couldn’t be long. Soon you would have to pick yourself up, bite through every step as though it didn’t feel like you were walking on glass, grab that duffle and carry on, and leave. You let out a bitter smile as you remember that fateful day you met your boys, how you were planning on what flowers to plant in that dream home of yours. You reached into your pocket and grabbed that small bag of flower seeds. 

Purple Hyacinth. 

Sorrow

You laughed at the irony. 

How fitting. 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“What do you mean my flight is canceled?” 

“Just what I mean ma’am, the weather report-” 

“It’s bloody London, has there ever been a clear sunny sky in London?” 

“No..bu-” 

“Alright,” you sigh, pinching the bridge between your brows, “I’m not trying to be difficult, I know you’re just doing your job, are there any flights cleared to take off?” You see the person type a few buttons on their keyboard and a few clicks of the mouse before looking back at you with false sympathy. 

“I’m sorry ma’am all the ones cleared already took off.” 

Shit, that leaves you with two options: going back to the flat or staying at the airport until morning…with a sigh you grab your bags and get ready to grab a late taxi back to your place. At least there you could shower and cry in private. First thing tomorrow morning you’ll get on the next plane to, you look at your ticket again Cincinnati, Ohio. At least you won’t stay there, your inside guy did you a solid and got you away from people. You’ll be in a small property big enough for one in a small town. It wasn’t ideal but at least you were away from the city stench. You’ll have to drive to places this time instead of hailing a cab, but you didn’t mind. All in all, it was an ok set up, much more preferable than your previous arrangement. 

You tried to hail a cab for ten minutes, everyone that passed was either already paid or just didn’t see you. Eventually you thought you were going to have to bite the bullet and sleep on the uncomfortable airport lounges when a cab finally pulled up. You thanked god as you put your luggage in the trunk and got into the backseat. 

“Where to miss?” the man asked, you didn’t even look at him as you replied. Instead watching the water drip steadily down the window pane. 

“Too bad for the weather eh?” This driver asked in a thick cockney accent. 

“Yeah I guess,” you replied, “though I guess it fits.” silence passes before he replies. 

“Tough day issit?” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” you said, closing your eyes, “it just doesn’t end.” 

“Know what that’s like,” he replies, “I had a share of bad days myself.” 

“Oh yeah?” You responded. 

“Like today,” You hear him respond, “I burned my hand while making dinner for me and my girlfriend, we’ve been going on for a year or so by now. She is the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen, inside and out. Anyways the day only gets worse from there, she comes about half an hour early to dinner without warning. I knock my poor toe on the way to the door to let her in; hurt like anything. So I open the door, she’s as  radiant as ever, only she’s got this sad look in her eyes, something I’ve never seen before. Turns out, she’s been lying to me… she said her job was taking her away and that she wouldn’t be able to be with us anymore.” a sinking feeling settled into your stomach, “we begged, we pleaded but no. She was adamant, and then she left, without another word. Isn’t that cruel?” You open your eyes to look into the rearview mirror, a chill went through your body as your eyes met a familiar dark pair. “Isn’t it mi carissima?” the accent drops into the deep spanish accent. You’re about to open the door when you feel a pinch on the side of your neck, and slowly the world blurred and then faded into nothing.

(Here's Part 2)

[justice-maul]

Character/Scenarios Kink List

Featuring: Dom and/or Top Reader w/ Random Fandoms

Summary: A new little fun game for my followers and new comers to play with me, you can request anything from this list with the rules down below but aren’t obligated to as I will still write them regardless

Author Note: there will be some overused characters and actors because this list is of my personal favorites to write about, I change this list quite a bit according to my taste so keep that in mind

Rules for requesting are down below and the links/list are under the keep reading

Kink/character list:

Jealous Sex ft.

Thigh Riding ft. Bucky (The Winter Soldier)

Premature Ejaculation ft. Clark Kent (Superman)

Facefucking ft.

Accidental Stimulation ft. Steve Rogers

Aphrodisiac/Sex Pollen ft. Jason Todd (Redhood DC)

Discreet sex ft. Bruce Wayne

Size Difference ft.

Toys ft.

Begging ft.

Kitchen Sex ft. Tony Stark x Avengers amab!Reader

Shower Sex ft. Pietro Maximoff

Caught Masturabting ft. Bucky (The Winter Soldier)

Overstimulation ft. Geralt (The Witcher Netflix)

Praise Kink ft.

Uniform Sex ft.

Scent/Smell Kink ft.

Boss/Power Play ft. Natasha Romanoff

Hate sex ft.

Cockwarming ft.

Face Sitting ft. Marc Spector

Spit kink ft.

Breeding ft. Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

Tit Job/ Pec Job ft. Diavolo (Obey Me)

Frottage ft. Jake Lockey (Moonknight)

Hero/Villain ft.

At Work Sex ft.

One Piece of Clothing ft.

Bent Over ft.

Drunk Sex ft.

Requests:

All of my existing blog rules must be followed here too, please be respectful and read these

You can add anything to it along with the kink and you may add scenarios and/or prompts even a plot,

Send me the number of your desire and a character if there isn't already one on it and I’ll write it next whether it be a headcanon or a fic

I can turn down a request, I have that right as a person

If a number is crossed out and says: currently writing, DO NOT REQUEST IT

The characters and kink will not be changed if you make a request on which one you want me to write

Alternative universe’s are welcome

I won’t do mommy/daddy/mistress/master labels, pregnant reader or character, having a child together,

I will not do cock cages or rings, pet play, monster sex, snowballing, vomit, poop, feet, pee, sneeze, vore, or gore. There will be no kink-shaming either. other than that I’m open-minded.

I will write it in a random order and you can request in a random order

You can add another character but can’t change an existing one

Be respectful of the kinks and do not shame others for theirs

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

I posted 8,295 times in 2022

49 posts created (1%)

8,246 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@hyrulealchemist

@meanie-miss-farron

@kram6496

@luminous-faerie

I tagged 6,152 of my posts in 2022

Only 26% of my posts had no tags

#marvel - 4,326 posts

#wanda maximoff - 3,117 posts

#elizabeth olsen - 913 posts

#natasha romanoff - 708 posts

#me - 409 posts

#kate bishop - 399 posts

#yelena belova - 346 posts

#text post - 156 posts

#moonknight - 132 posts

#lol - 127 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#btw i'm gonna queue each part since i'm trying to clear it and its mostly series so it will help since i'm doing onepost a day from my queue

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Impersonating Yelena: "Kate Bishop" :D

And pizza dog :) woop this cheered me up after a bad annoying ending to my shift tonight, its funny that the amazon exclusive one was supposed to arrive ages ago but god.delayed, this one came on time

14 notes - Posted February 11, 2022

#4

Wish me luck peeps I'm about about watch ingrid goes west...im..scared lol

I'm expecting this to be cringy but I'm doing this for elizabeth and to bloody see what Taylor is all about..but I expect I'm gonna be this for most of the film

See the full post

15 notes - Posted April 27, 2022

#3

Me having a discussion with one of the guys I'm at mcm comic con bit and talking about how I call wanda daddy/mommy and he was like...

16 notes - Posted May 27, 2022

#2

HOW ARE WE FUCKING FEELING RIGHT NOW WANDA GIRLS!!!!!

Cause this is me right now (I made this use and it has always been this way lol)

23 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I think ppl who read wanda/elizabeth x reader smut fics will agree...if @themidnightcrimson and @cthulhus-curse did a collab...we wouldn't fucking survive what these two could come up with.. the smut would be the stuff of legends!!!

See the full post

332 notes - Posted May 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[falselve]

multifandom thingz

In addition to writing about several fandoms and/or people that are part of those fandoms, there will be a number of other things/people I will NOT be writing about.   

fandoms: stranger things, harry potter, marauders, marvel

━━━━ ̥◌୭˚➶. ˚✧˖° ͎ list below (smut involded) :

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩ (! ALLOWED): if not on this list, just submit and ask me if it's okay, I will either deny or go through with it.

stranger things (steve harrington, eddie munson, robin buckley, nancy wheeler, chrissy chunningham)

harry potter (harry james potter, hermione granger, ron weasley, luna lovegood, ginny weasley, theodore nott,)

Daisy jones and the six

marauders: (basically all of them, they are so hot)

marvel (moonknight, bucky barnes, steve rogers, wanda maxamoff, natasha romanoff, daredevil, sam wilson, etc)

peaky blinders (tommy shelby)

American horror story (any Evan peters character)

smut based: mild smut, heavy smut, bondage, knife, (basically anything normal)

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩ ! (NOT ALLOWED): don't think about it

stranger things (billy hargrove, jason carver)

harry potter (draco malfoy, pansy parkinson, dumbledore, voldemort, snape, basically mostly none of the death eaters/people everyone dislikes)

marauders (snape)

marvel (anyone, but the ones I don't want to/am uncomfy about)

smut based: no minors, non-con, characters that actors passed away, no irl people, large age gaps, pedophilla, ddlg + more

━━━━━━━ ➶ 𓆉｡˚ ✧ ���‧₊˚. ━━━━

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩ ! DISCLAIMERS: I will mostly be writing (X readers) unless further notice. This is just for fun, so if I do not get to everything; I am so sorry.

[unholyhelbig]

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

Masterlist | Request a Prompt | Join my Taglist

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.”  

[unholyhelbig]

Crescent 9/? | 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: Airplanes, angst, and really bad grammar

[A/N: Hm, long time no see. I really miss writing for Natty.]

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Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight

The flight from New York to Cairo took ten hours and 30 minutes, most of which you spent in the bathroom at the back of the plane. It was cramped and smelled hot. You filled your lungs with the scent of orange cleaner and the specific type of rot that Khonsu carried like a burden. He cursed under his breath, head dipped, the ceiling too short.

“Can you please just accept the fact that she actually wants to help us?” You asked in a hushed voice.

The flight attendants had informed you all that it was the middle of the night, though it was hard to tell this high up in the clouds. The lights were lowered, and businessmen began a soft cacophony of snores. Natasha kept her sunglasses on despite the darkness. Hangover, she said. It was easy to recognize an ex-avenger, though and you understood that.

Dina wasn’t on your flight, and neither was Chip. It was a small blessing. The last thing you needed was to get detained by the in-flight agent before the wheels even touched Egyptian soil. For right now you had to settle with the idea that they were behind you instead of ahead of you, but you feared the latter.

She is an Avenger. They have a god complex. Must always do good.

“She was an Avenger. She gave Dina a fake scarab. Doesn’t that serve in our favor? Come on, Khonsu, your favorite game is using people until they’re not useful anymore.”

You struggled to appeal to his good side if he had one. There was no telling what he would have you do the second he had what he wanted. If he would leave you, your wounds bloodied and hands quivering. It was selfish, you knew, wanting to hold onto Natasha for as long as you could.

There was a small knock at the door.

“Occupied,” you said, louder than your ears were used to. “Either way, you’re getting to the tomb. This is what you wanted, right? Sit back and enjoy this lovely 10-hour flight.”

 I have better things to do.

“Right, yes, do those.”

“Y/n?”

Natasha’s voice flitted through the small crack under the door. You gave Khonsu a smart smile. He let out a rumbling sigh. If you could see his eyes through the soulless sockets of his crumbling skull, you guessed they would be rolling. He dissipated into a cloud of sand. You flicked the door unlocked and were quickly pushed back, Natasha joining you.

You breathed her in, the small of your back pushed into the counter. “Oh, ouch”

“Hi,” She smiled.

“Hi”

“Were you in a business meeting?”

“I wouldn’t’ call it business. Certainly not pleasure. I mean, there’s only so much fun to be had when you’re in-flight. Especially in the bathroom.”

Natasha narrowed her green eyes at you. There was a heat that pooled in your cheeks. She was close and you were conscious of her warmth, her lavender scent, the devilish look in her stare. She swiftly gripped your hips and lifted you onto the counter, standing between your legs. That certainly freed up some space.

“Are we alone right now?” She asked.

“There is an entire group of people right outside of this door.”

“Not what I meant.”

Her lips grazed against your pulse point, breath warm. Goosebumps rose on your skin. You chuckled, wrapping your ankles around her waist and pulling her close. Natasha trailed soft kisses down the side of your neck, to your collarbone.

“The mile-high club, really, Nat?”

“Oh, are you opposed to it?” her words vibrated into your skin. “Because I can stop.”

“No, don’t.”

Natasha looked at you tenderly, then, both of her hands on your cheeks. They were warm compared to the cold cabin air. She had moved her head to a 45-degree tilt, the smallest of smiles against her lips. There was a vulnerability there, and you both knew it, despite the small, cramped bathroom. You wanted her to lean forward, you wanted her to touch you and that ache radiated into a craving to return the favor.

Instead, she leaned forward and kissed the tip of your nose with a deep chuckle that you could feel in her chest. “I’m afraid they’ll come looking for us if they know we’re missing. We shouldn’t get air marshalled above the North Atlantic.”

You groaned into the soft spot in the crook of her neck “Can’t you pull some Avenger bullshit to get us out of it?”

“Ex Avenger, Malen'kaya Luna”

Admittedly, when you got a spare moment, you googled the easy Russian that slipped her tongue. She had been asleep next to you, curled under your sheets as the dull glow from your phone was kept low enough not to wake her. Little Moon. It warmed your heart, squeezed it like her hand on your knee now.

You leaned forward and kissed her again. Natasha hummed into your mouth, fingers ghosting over the back of your neck. Oh, how you wished you had stumbled upon the woman in front of you in any other circumstance. No moon gods, no secret temples. And certainly, no evil aunts.

Natasha begrudgingly led you back to your seats at the center of the plane. The flight attendant raised both of his eyebrows at you before realization clouded his expression and the tips of his ears turned a cotton candy pink. Nat placed her hand on the inside of your thigh protectively, chills moving across your spine.

“We need to come up with a plan for when we get to Cairo.”

“Truthfully, I was just going to follow your lead.” You said, giving your best pout. Natasha narrowed her eyes at you. “Fine, yes, fine. I actually have a map.”

“A map?”

You pulled your backpack from under the seat. Apologizing to the man next to you who grunted, pulling himself closer to the window in annoyance. You produced the sketch book that you took to the museum every day.

The lights on the plane dimmed automatically as you flew through the night. You could hear the muffled sounds of in-flight movies humming through the issued headphones. Two kids in front of you were playing a game on a switch, quietly chittering to themselves. A flight attendant walked through the aisle and offered out sleep masks. The man to your left took it gratefully.

“The coffin of Lady Madja was brought in by Chip a year ago. It was a great find, in-tact and the art across the outside was still readable.” You whispered, flipping through the pages that you had scribbled on. “It took a long time to decipher, but the hieroglyphics tell a story about the Valley of Kings, and where to find it. But it’s not something easily translated. It took me months.”

You finally got the page that you wanted, each drawing had been analyzed, highlighted and deciphered. There were charcoal smudges and the crossing out of things you didn’t quite understand. Natasha’s eyes lit up.

“The scarab is important, sure. It’s like a key that unlocks the tomb. But it’s equally important to know how to get there. The mask had clearer instructions carved into it. Dina just didn’t realize that it was right under her nose the entire time. She didn’t’ look hard enough.” You pressed your finger at the green highlighted numbers at the bottom of the page. “These are the coordinates. They lead us straight into the desert.”

However, Natasha wasn’t looking at the notebook, she was staring directly at you. Her breath was warm against your cheek. You ran the pads of your fingers nervously over the indentation in the paper, giving her the smallest, brightest of smiles.

“You’re incredible, you know that, right?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would.” You felt your cheeks warm up with a rush of blood. Even in the dim lights, it was nearly impossible to get anything past Natasha. You went to flip the book closed, but instead, she put her fingers in between the pages. “Y/n, what’s that?”

“This?”

You couldn’t very well hide it now. By no means did you classify yourself as a top-of-the-line artist. Sure, you had the studio, but most of your stuff was abstract, curated like you had been taught to do. But you did sketch diligently.

Some of your sketches were of Natasha. Namely from the trip the two of you had taken. During the long comfortable stretches of quiet on the road, you had captured her profile as she drove. The curve of her jaw, the way stray pieces of hair had fallen from her baseball cap. There was admiration there, infatuation flourished every line drawn.

“A half-baked hobby.” You watched as she furrowed her brow and looked up at you like you had just said something blasphemous. “You’re impossible to capture, you know that, right?”

“How so?”

You swallowed the dryness in your mouth. “Everything is subjective, but your beauty is concrete. There is always room for interpretation, for improvement. You, Natasha, are infinite in your words, in your actions, in your complexion. Charcoal and paper cannot even begin to encapsulate.”

Natasha let out a shuttered breath that tickled your collarbone. She moved forward, she kissed you slowly, careful and quiet. You pulled all of her in, smoothing your thumb against the edge of her jaw. You wouldn’t stop drawing her anytime soon, or at least attempting to do so.

By the time you landed in Cairo, your neck was aching. Natasha had dozed off against your shoulder, and you were careful when laying your head on top of hers. She had to be roused when it was your turn to exit the plane. She had an adorable, sleep ridden pout on her face that you resisted kissing away.

The heat in Cairo hit you both and slowed your movements. It was balmy, the sun warmed your skin and your cheeks. You hadn’t been in Egypt for a long time. Your last visit was under the boney wing of Khonsu, a small meeting between the God’s and their avatars.

Sure, you had gotten a chance to see the sites, but part of you knew that Khonsu was receiving a slap on the wrist for his less desirable habits. You had gotten the chance to see a few things, and make some friends.

“Layla is going to meet us inside.”

“You’re sure we can trust her?”

Out of all the avatars that you’d met over the years, Layla El-Faouly was the most trustworthy, as was her master, Taweret. You’d only met the Goddess of Woman and Children once, but she could level Khonsu with a single pointed stare. You’d seen it during the meetings, had stifled a smile that Layla wasn’t too keen on hiding.

You had shot her a message before boarding the plane, and she waited in the dusty Egyptian heat. She leaned against an old dark-red Nissan that rested among the hustle and bustle of families picking up friends, and workers making deliveries. Natasha shifted rigidly as the woman pushed herself off the side of the car.

“Y/n,” Layla grabbed your free hand and pulled you into a warm hug. She smelled like freshly turned soil, metallic and alluring. She moved back, keeping her hands on your arms “Ugh, it’s so good to see you. We have so much to discuss.”

You laughed, taking her in. It was always nice to see other avatars, but especially her. You’d both been thrown into this life at the same time, living in the city and talking over stale bodega coffee. The memory blocks were the worst, eventually fading away into nothing but the cold feeling of always being watched by your master, doing their bidding.

Taweret had a softer hand, you both admitted, but you had grown used to the way Khonsu had done things, even if he kept you in the dark for most of his plans. Natasha had gotten further than you thought she would. Rather- Khonsu had allowed you to usher her towards the endgame.

“I’m being a dick,” Layla put her hand out “I’m Layla.”

“Natasha,”

“Romanoff, right? I’ve seen a few press conferences. You’re very impressive.”

The Russian spy tentatively reached out and returned the handshake. She was guarded like any agent would be. There was a heat to her cheeks, almost as if the sun had already likened them to ripe strawberries.

She led the two of you to a nearby café and the shade that the awnings offered instantly quelled the heat. Layla ordered them drinks without looking at the menu, and you were frankly thankful for that. The words blurred, and while most of them were in English, you still knew that you would butcher the pronunciation regardless.

“Alright, so, give me the rundown. What does Khonsu have you chomping at the bit for?”

You scoffed “Chomping at the… I think I’m being very level-headed.”

“No such thing, not with you.” She took a long sip of her drink “While Taweret doesn’t have an explicit say on who I associate with you are not her favorite.”

“Oh, ouch. I thought we bonded!”

“Was that before or after you lifted a shabtis from the Smithsonian?”  

Natasha eyed you “You what?”

Suddenly you were interested in the drink in front of you, humming into the cup as you gulped down the cold liquid. Layla laughed. “My point is, Khonsu blurs the line between ethical use of immortality, don’t you think? If you contacted the Black Widow and me, then you’re in some deep shit.”

“We are in deep shit.” Natasha said, her hand finding your knee in a domestic act of familiarity. “And need to get to the Valley of the Kings as soon as possible.”

“The Valley of Kings? That’s a little further than most tourists go. It’s a good forty miles of nothing but sand and heat. A team of archaeologists have been digging out there for years now, searching for a key. But I can get you out there.”

She leaned back on the chair, sizing the both of you up. “You have the key, don’t you?”

“We’re not the only ones that do.” Natasha kicked you under the table, a small warning tap, nothing that you wouldn’t gain feeling back in after a few minutes. “Ow! Okay. No, Layla. We don’t have the key. We would like to go sightseeing.”

You smiled sweetly at the both of them. The heat was starting to get to you. It didn’t’ seem to be bothering Natasha or Layla. They rolled their eyes at you, almost in unison that made you swell with an odd bit of pride.

“I don’t want anything to do with what’s inside of the Valley of Kings, trust me. It’s a construction zone at this point. But there are rumors. And in good conscience, I can’t help you unless I’m certain that what you’re doing won’t add fuel to the fire.”

Layla was staring at Natasha when she spoke, shifting her weight on the metal chair. How wasn’t it burning a hole through the fabric of her pants?

“I have no reason not to trust you. You’re a literal Avenger going after Avenger level threats. But Y/n…”

“I’m in the room.”

Natasha put a domestic hand on your shoulder, effectively shutting you up. It was such a tender gesture, one that you had seen your parents do, and even your aunt when Chip took too much liberty with the conversation. For now, you were content to sit and listen.

“I assure you, Layla, I will do everything in my power to keep things in order. I may not be associated with Nick Fury and his practices anymore, but my goal remains the same. Protect the general public and if Khonsu pushes further than he should then I will not hesitate to push back to a certain degree.”

There was a hard swallow. You were suddenly reminded of the press conferences the Black Widow had to take part in. There were flashing cameras and microphones shoved into her face. She had to smile and assure the world that its fate wasn’t detrimental.

“Okay,” Layla shrugged non-committedly “I’ll take you both out there. But y/n, don’t think for a second I won’t call upon Taweret the second you step out of line.”

You nodded, keeping quiet, as promised. The journey ahead would be long, and undeniably hot, and while you didn’t’ want to question Layla’s power and skill, you knew that with the promise of resolution within your grasp, Khonsu would only grow stronger. You’d sit and behave, drinking down the last of your water and instantly regretting the decision to do so.

There was no doubt in your mind that the rest of the gods had caught wind of Khonsu being back in Egypt. While you had entrusted Layla, there was still a lingering feeling of fear that you would be stopped by something stronger than one God with a warrior. There were hundreds, and you were simply one.

Natasha hummed quietly “I can’t let you do that. Y/n leaves with her life.” 

“I can’t promise you that. Most God’s are selfish, they pick avatars based on their brokenness. They mend them and use them, but at the end of the day, they discard them. And we let this happen simply because we crave that second chance.”

You scooted forward, letting your elbows rest on the metal of the table. It scorched your skin. Your heart clenched at Natasha’s obvious worry for you. It was cruel- bringing her here, just to watch your potential demise. But you couldn’t do this without her.

“You knew this?” Natasha asks, and her voice is filled with a certain type of regret and sorrow. “That you had no full control of the God that governs you?”

“There… was a 50/50 shot that things would go wrong, and that still stands. I’ve been loyal to Khonsu for years now. Part of me wants to believe he’d be benevolent and spare me.”

“And the other part? The part that leads you to the Valley of Kings in the first place?”

You swallowed the dryness in your throat, fingers twitching with anticipation to reach out and comfort the woman in front of you. Her green eyes were dilated, and her lips were pursed with contemplation. She had every right to turn around and get on the next flight back to the States.

“That part is fucked.”

[unholyhelbig]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Thank you for thinking of me! 💕I'll stick with the Marvel fics I'm fond of because I bet most of you are around for that, and not the huge library of Pitch Perfect fanfiction that I've written over the years.

1.) The Sun Also Rises (Kate Bishop x Reader) - I'm not fantastic at angst, I like action and avoiding feelings. So this was a challenge for me, but I ended up loving it.

2.) Magnetic (Kate Bishop x Reader)- This one doesn't get a lot of traffic, but I've never fully written a soul mate AU before so it was fun to get into.

3.) Crescent (MoonKnight!Reader x Natasha Romanoff)- Guilty pleasure fic that I'll be wrapping up shortly. Literally cannot get enough of Reader and Nat's dynamic in this one.

4.) Old Flames (An Oversight Oneshot)- Beefy scary Nat. Need I say more?

5.) I'll Be Home for Christmas (Kate Bishop x Reader)- Holiday fluff that's pretty much a hallmark flick.

[unholyhelbig]

Crescent 8/? | 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: Not so subtle Violence, throat injury, trauma, and also really bad grammar.

[A/N: Sorry about the delay, folks. I got Ronance brain rot.]

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Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

You were quickly deemed to be a non-threat by the Black Widows standards, and it wasn’t quite the morale booster you were hoping for. Though, standing in the shower under scalding water did something to wake up your bones, making you forget about the thinly veiled insult to your capability.

The feeling of her lips against yours still seemed like a dream, a mirage that’s brought on by the heat of a dessert. You swallowed a couple breaths of steam, the glass walls fogging up enough for your steadying handprints to drip like freshly drawn blood. Non-threats got to go to their own apartments to talk to their bird-God masters about a game plan. Non-threats still had to wear the bracelets of blue that didn’t dampen your powers as much as you’d hoped.  

Khonsu sat on the toilet and regarded it as a throne. He had picked up one of the magazines you’d situated for reading material, using his boney fingers to flip the page and huff at whatever gossip he found interesting, much like Yelena.

He had called you a worm for the first three months of your partnership. It wasn’t until you took a lashing from a group of Russian men in maroon tracksuits that you had gained his respect. There was no ability to fight back, but he seemed impressed by your tendency to get back up. You spit blood onto the sidewalk, clenched broken ribs, and took another fist to the face. Over and over again until he put a stop to it. He thought you to fight, to wield the weapons you were given.

You cannot be in love with her.

“I didn’t say that.” You pressed your forehead against the cool tile, closing your eyes against the scalding stream of water. “I said I want to see where it goes. I can’t do that if you command me to kill her.”

You’ve never questioned my authority before. It’s interesting.

“I’ve never gotten a chance like this before.”

And you hadn’t. Not really. There were girlfriends in high school, but everything was so new. You’d met Taylor French in debate club and figured out what all the puns regarding her name were about. You’d lost your virginity next to a tackle box in Jackson Simmons pickup truck. None of those felt like anything. Not like this simple kiss had.

You turned off the stream of water and took the red towel that he passed to you through the cracked glass, goosebumps where the cold water hit you. “I don’t see what killing Natasha will accomplish. Dina has the scarab. She’ll lead us to the tomb.”

A test of loyalty. I need to make sure you regard me, as always. Especially after that stunt she pulled, inhibiting our connection.

You stepped into the foggy bathroom “I’ll regard you. I regard you. Have you ever been infatuated with anyone?”

Khonsu furrowed his bony brow at the magazine in his hands and was quiet for a long moment. You walked to the sink with caution, worried that you had overstepped a boundary. But then again, he was sitting with you while you showered. There was something vulnerable about that that almost friends shared.

No.

The answer was simple and so softly spoken that you nearly didn’t’ hear it over the sound of your own heart pounding in your chest. He flickered out then, the magazine falling to the steam-soaked bathmat, pages curling in moisture.

You were still wracked with exhaustion and settled on taking the subway to your aunt’s penthouse. You had been summoned by a short text that dropped to the pit of your stomach. Your mother and her effortless way of cushioning the blow were in Jersey for a girl’s weekend.

There was no specificity to the text, nor was this the usual night you gathered for dinner. By the time the elevator reached the top of the stairs, you could taste metal. The scent of merlot and burning chestnut logs hit the back of your throat. You suppressed a cough. Instead, rounding the corner tentatively, like a child.

Chip spotted you first and smiled warmly at you with his general easiness. Dina was standing at the mantel place, one sip of bourbon souring in her glass. Her green eyes flashed towards you. Even as she lingered in her own home, she wore statement jewelry and crocodile print pants.

“I trust you’re feeling better.” She said.

“Much, thank you.” You swallowed the thick taste in your mouth. “Natalie got the scarab to you?”

Her eyes hardened. With a guttural scream, she hurled the crystal glass into the wall behind you. It shattered into a million pieces, the noise was loud, shards and alcohol sprayed against your arms. You’d instinctively covered your stare, lowering your arms wildly.

Your voice broke “What the hell?”

“The scarab. Where is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“She’s given me a fake.” Dina rushed towards you, grasping at your collar feverishly. You shoved her hands away and took a giant step back, putting your hands out as if calming a wild animal. “It was a damned good fake, but not good enough to fool me.”

“My sweet, maybe we should take a lenient approach?” Chip took a long gulp of his own drink, rising a grey eyebrow.

“I’ve been lenient enough.”

Dina turned and picked up the iron fire poker from the flames. The tip glowed a sharp orange, pulsing like a living breathing thing. She closed the distance between the both of you, her fake nails pushing into your shoulder.

Now would be a fantastic time for Natasha to magically show up with the little fob that unlocked your bracelets. You’d been diligent about hiding your secret from your family, from Dina. But desperate times made you well, desperate. The tip of the heated poker was hovering above a weak spot on your throat.

“I don’t think you understand what fire you’re playing with here, Y/n.” She spits, breath acrid “Tell me where Natalie and the Scarab are.”

You let out a wet laugh “I don’t know where your damned scarab is.”

When the edge of the metal hit your skin, it hissed. You let out a scream as she pushed in, the scent of burnt flesh filling your lungs. Chip stood from his seat and Dina’s eyes flashed a moment of regret at her own actions before she pulled back. You gulped in air.

“So much is on the line. If you think I’m above killing you to get what I want, you’re mistaken.”

“Is that any way to treat family?”

“Family?” She went slack as if the word had stung her “Family? You’re kidding! There is not a single part of me that considers you anything more than a… than a worm.”

When you swallowed back the sour taste in your mouth, your skin hit the burning edge of the fire poker once more. This time, you didn’t flinch. You expected the pain, some part of you even welcomed it. It gave the tears in your eyes a direction, like a bad play.

“If you kill me,” You rasped “Then you’ll never get what you want. You’ll rot in a cell. Is that worth it?”

Dina blinked at you. She was angry, at first, she was seething. But then the realization of what she had done seeped into her bones, and made her shoulders drop. You pushed her away and pressed your hand to the bloodied burn on the side of your neck. Chip was there with a dishtowel soaked in cold water. You shoved that away too, taking a few steps back.

“I’ll find her.” Dina let the metal rod fall with a clang. “I’ve used the last of my mercy with you, Y/n.”

“Search the desert until you strike gold.” Your voice hard. It hurt to talk. “Die trying, for all I care.”

You waited until you were past Bennet the doorman to let your tears fall. There were cameras in the elevator and the lobby. All of which Dina and Chip had access to. Each conversation you’d had with her in the past few years made you feel like a child again. Scolded and corrected, and so very afraid of what she would do next.

It felt suffocating, wearing these bracelets, the constant back and forth between feelings. It was all overwhelming- scary. You did the only thing you could think of on your way home as a slough of cold rain fell from the sky. You called Natasha.

To your surprise, she wasted no time getting to your apartment. The two of you lived in the same neighborhood, right by the art gallery that had been collecting dust for the past two weeks as you played your aunt’s game.

You swallowed two cups of whiskey without ice, the warm flavor burning your stomach. By the time she knocked on the door, you had worked yourself up to a nice buzz, forgetting the burn against your throat, wishing you could forget the woman who had given it to you.

Natasha let out a disapproving grunt, clad in a pair of sweatpants and a black shirt. Her hair was still damp from the rain, the scent of lavender filling your lungs

“malen'kaya luna” she said, her voice low as she pushed her way into your apartment. “What have you done?”

You sighed into her touch; her fingers cold against the side of your face. It was soothing, your cheeks inflamed. You were suddenly self-conscious. Why had you called her? There was a kiss shared, and a lot of flirtatious banter but this felt more intimate somehow. She was in your apartment. You had been crying. You had no one else to call.

The rain was falling hard now. The billboard from across the street was enough to illuminate the whole apartment. Sheeted water made you feel like you were in a fishbowl. The sound matched up with your heartbeat.

Natasha leads you to the sofa, and you obediently allowed her to do so. “First Aid kit?”

“I don’t have one.”

“What do you mean you don’t have one?”

She knelt in front of you between your legs. One hand was on your thigh. The other was on the upholstery. Your throat throbbed. Your head throbbed. You hadn’t been sure about blood loss, but you knew there was some. Your collar was sticking to your warm skin.

“Haven’t gotten hurt for a long time.” Your eyes hardened. Your fingers subconsciously moving to your neck. Natasha grasped them before they made contact. She squeezed hard. “Dina.”

“Dina did this?”

You didn’t answer, instead, you swallowed the metal taste in your mouth. Natasha stood, patted her pockets, and grabbed the small fob. You kept your stare on the way the water reflected on the dark hardwood floor. When the cuffs fell from your wrists, you didn’t’ register it at first. Not until the wound against your throat had healed. It didn’t’ take long. It never did.

You had been back in the hospital room for a moment- hooked up to machines. Watching yourself struggle to breathe. Your chest barely rose and barely fell. Machines beeped in time with the world moving on from the rich kid taking a slug to the stomach, to the shoulder. Brain swelling and fractured everything.

“Hey,” Natasha had her hand on your cheek again, and was kneeling in front of you. “I know that look. I get that look. Come back to me, alright? You’re going to be fine. You’ve healed up well. Can you tell me what happened?”

Despite the leveled stare she gave you, you stood and made your way back over to the cabinet of liquor. You poured two glasses of whiskey. Handing her one. Your own fingers clasped around the crystal. If you didn’t have that hold, they’d be trembling. You hated how it dulled your senses, how it had probably dulled Dina’s too.

“You told me you used to collect fireflies.”

Natasha nodded. The billboard changed to its next ad, a blinding purple light. The rain skewed it, and shaded her stoic features still etched with worry. She took a swallow of whiskey.

“Dina and I used to collect moths. She believed that the moth symbolized change. That when you die one would carry you into your next life. The pattern and size of your moth depend on the life you lead.”

Natasha put her hand on the small of your back, her touch warm, steadying. She was holding you up better than your feet. You watched as water dripped in sheets against the windows.

“When I got attacked, I screamed for hours before I realized that no one could hear me, that everything was in my head. That I just had to be patient, had to listen and wait for them to realize that the only thing they could do for me would be to practice mercy. To shut off the machines.

“My mother was too stubborn, and my aunt… my aunt would sit by my bedside every day and beg for me to gain consciousness. I could feel her squeezing my hand, could hear her through her tears. She wanted me to wake, but only for a moment. She whispered about a moth never showing to take me to the next life if she was suffering in this one because of my… my weakness.”

You hadn’t realized that you were crying until Nat’s cold touch wiped the tears from your cheeks. She held your face; let you fall into the crook of her neck and sob. She didn’t’ say anything, instead, she listened to the way the rain fell.

Exhaustion plagued your body with each passing minute, each cycle of advertisements on the lit billboard across the way. Any reservations about showing Natasha your home, your bedroom, were washed away in the gutters with the rain.

Over the years, you had built a wall around the soft parts of yourself. The one thing you could control was how much information you gave, what you kept, and who you were. There was no explanation of why Natasha made you feel so safe. She was the enemy; a trained assassin with a dripping ledger who fought against your endgame.

Yet, as she lay down and open her arms up for an embrace you didn’t know you craved so strongly, you couldn’t see any of that. You breathed in her earthy, water-worn scent. You listened to her heartbeat which was stronger than yours. You fisted the fabric of her shirt, nose flush against her neck. She rubbed small circles against your back.

“You have a moth, malen'kaya luna.” Natasha spoke so softly. If your ear hadn’t been pressed to her throat, the words would have been lost in the falling rain. “This happened for a reason. Maybe it just wasn’t your time to release it from its strawberry-scented jar yet.”

For the first time in a long time, you drifted into a comfortable sleep, one where your shoulder didn’t’ ache, where the nightmares didn’t rush through your mind. There was simply nothing but the sweet scent of summer berries and Natasha Romanoff.

Taglist 🌙: @littlebluestone @bxrbiewrites @almaperegrinespipe @justyourwritter69 @maddess @jasminebelding @fayhar @i-need-somebody-else @sapphic-girl @pianogirl2121 @strangegardentaco @ohmy-godyes @kacka84 @143bc @lenam07 @tforjtap @iwishforausername @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @honeymoonbbie

[unholyhelbig]

Crescent 7/? | 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: Handcuffs, The Red Room, and horrible grammar

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

Masterlist | Request a Prompt | Join my Taglist

When you woke in the hospital after your accident, the first thing you noticed was the tugging of an IV shoved into the vein on your hand. You’d never had good veins, never hydrated enough for the physician to get you on the first stick. Even then, blood was hard to withdraw. Yet, in the alleyway, it had been easy. So simple to color the walls with red.

The doctors called you a miracle, waking from a coma after nearly a month in the same bed. There were flashes of consciousness, little moments of clarity when you could have sworn you heard your mother's voice through the roaring shouts of something strange- something large and birdlike that claimed the ability to save you from yourself.

And then your aunt, who had a call stronger than your mother. It was something shrill and filled with malice. It seemed to cut through everything like a knife against wet clay. Even then, you knew she was angry, a tube forced down your throat and a monitor beeping like a metronome.

When you woke now, there was a warmth to the air, the scent of pumpkin. Cotton candy pink light flitted through a propped window and sheer white curtains. You were fuzzy, your arm aching something fierce, fingers going numb on both hands. Maybe you’d prefer the Iv.

There was a buzzing, a ringing in your ears. You struggled to find your place, remembering things in pieces; like Natasha’s soft pink lips, the scent of her breath- the fact that she had electrocuted you with what felt like a thousand volts of ‘fuck you’.

“Is she dead?” a soft whispered voice made your eyes flutter.

“No. She is still breathing. People who breathe are not dead.” A thick Russian voice responded. You could feel their presence but couldn’t’ bring yourself to open your eyes again, the light was too bright. “I do not know what Natasha sees in this one. She goes for the strong, silent, type and she does not seem like either.”

You groaned then, trying to shift. There was metal around both of your wrists. Okay- that was enough to pull you out of whatever pain-filled daze you were in. Hitting the brink of death had been easy, painless because of the morphine and your own self-reliance. This, on the other hand, thrummed through every inch of your body like a bad hangover.

Your stare went straight to the bottom of a sink. Someone had looped a pair of industrial handcuffs around your wrists and through the gap under the porcelain basin and the pipe. They were larger cuffs, rimmed in a glowing, pulsating blue. You drew in a sharp breath, hitting your forehead against the tiled wall behind you.

You swore “Son of a Bitch,”

“Most definitely not either.” The second voice reiterated the dizzying statement. You flinched and turned your head to the opposite side and met the curious eyes of two women that you had never seen before. They lingered in the stilted doorway; arms crossed. Neither of them reacted to your stony glare.

“She must be something special if Nat broke her sacred shield rules for her.” The brunette said.

“She can hear you,”

Your voice was scratchy, barely above a whisper. The blonde looked unphased, but her companion seemed to cower a bit at her own statement. Neither of them took their eyes of off you. Uncomfortable was an understatement.

“Ah, zaika, I think you’ve embarrassed the prisoner.”

A startlingly familiar sound filled the air, Natasha clearing her throat. Your head was pounding, screaming at you, really. Your shoulders were enveloped in stiff pain, back throbbing. It had been years since you spent the night on a tiled bathroom floor. Usually, it involved more alcohol and the purging of it.

Part of you was relieved that she was here, wherever here was. The two women grumpily pulled themselves from the doorframe at one stony look from the redhead. They wandered into the hallway, mumbling something about breakfast, which truly didn’t sound like a horrible idea.

A small black cat weaved between Natasha’s feet, rumbling in contentment at her presence. Neon green eyes blinked at you. Your shoulders relaxed a tad. You were a sucker for animals, and this one was tiny, unbelievably adorable.

“You feeling okay?” Natasha finally asked, pushing the sleeves of her grey sweater to her elbows. You glared at her. It was an odd time to start caring about your well-being. “Don’t pout. I’m doing you a favor here.”

“If locking me in a bathroom is considered a favor, I’d hate to see your disservice.”

Instead of answering you, she walked to the sink, flicking on the faucet. You flinched as the metal of the cuffs vibrated against the pipe. She filled a small mug with cold water and squatted down next to you.

“It would be easy for me to get out of these.”

“Want to give it a shot?”

There was something daring in her eyes. You frowned and tried to gather your thoughts. Over the years, you’d grown used to simply willing the suit to do as you wish. But the hugging sensation didn’t’ appear this time. Neither did the burst of strength that usually came with it. You opened you pulled at the restraints.

“Magnetic destabilizing handcuffs.” She smirked at you. “We weren’t sure if it would work on the gods, but if Strange can be reigned in with them, there’s a good chance you could too.”

She guided her fingers to your jaw, goosebumps rising against your skin. Simply, she instructed you to drink. You hadn’t realized how thirsty you were until you could see the bottom of the mug. You were obedient, tired, and hazy in your post-electrocuted state.

“Good girl. Now, here is how this is going to go. I have a meeting with your aunt today. She wants the scarab. I’m going to give it to her. You had the right idea, letting her lead us to where we need to be.”

“That’s all well and good, Natty, but do I have to be here during your little exhibition? We could do this together, you know?”

“Do you know why Khonsu wants to get there?”

You clenched your jaw and swallowed the remaining taste of the water on your tongue. She could read you well, could read anyone well with talents like hers. You were simply his avatar, and from your experience, avatars weren’t at liberty to know anything their masters did not want them to.

“I complete his will.” You gritted.

“Which is precisely the problem, y/n.” She stood and replaced the mug, moving her hands against her pants to dry them. “Yelena and Kate will keep an eye on you while I’m gone. Your aunt and mother think that you’ve gotten some sort of bug on the trip.”  

“Ironic.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, pulling a small fob from her pocket. She hit a switch on the front. The two cuffs broke apart at the center. You let out a hiss of pain as your rigid muscles got a much-needed break.

In a moment of renewed defiance, you moved to sweep your arm at her feet. That’s what Khonsu would have wanted, after all, for you to escape and get these things off, restoring your link. Besides, part of you wanted to get the woman back for the ungodly amount of electricity she had sent through you.

She brought her knee into your abdomen. You let go of the breath that you held, and she hit the button again. The two halves of the cuffs slammed back together with apt force. You let out a grunt, turning on your back from the strength of the hit.

“Magnetic, remember?”

“Yeah. I remember.”

It was worth a shot, anyway. Natasha grasped the center of the cuffs with her brute strength and pulled you to your feet. There wasn’t much choice in the matter, after all. She pulled you down the hallway, the small creature trotting behind both of you like this was a common practice. For all you knew, it was.

The living area was quaint, decorated in muted colors. There was a soft leather couch, a small coffee table, and television that was surrounded by aged books. There was tasteful art on the walls. The blonde woman flipped through a magazine, leaning against the breakfast bar. The brunette was shoving a mouthful of cereal into her mouth, tipping her spoon at the two of you as she chewed thoughtfully.

This was what was in charge of watching you? God, this might be easier than you thought. Natasha pulled you forward by your hands, shoving you into one of the barstools. She rested her hands on your shoulder. One of the girls offered you a bite of cereal, milk dripping into the bowl.

“Yelena is a widow,” The woman behind you seemed to decipher your line of thinking.

“It is true. Unlike my sister, I will not hesitate.”

“Noted,” You rasped.

Whatever they had shackled around your wrists had some serious firepower. You had taken the superhuman healing for granted for way too long. Your throat stung and your skin was buzzing with mortality. It was stupid, this headache was stupid and so were these cuffs. You couldn’t help the creaking glare you leveled Natasha with, even if she had squeezed your shoulder with an heir of lovingness on her way out the door.

Yelena let out a labored sigh and flipped the page of her magazine to another moment in pop culture. Boring. The scent of freshly printed paper made your stomach churn so you focused your gaze on the woman who must be Kate. Her chewing slowed. You lifted an eyebrow at her.

“What can you do?”

“For starters, I engineered that tech that took you out.” She shot back. “And I’m an expert marksman. I’m Hawkeye.”

“I thought Hawkeye was a dude. That guy your father or something?”

Yelena let out a barking laugh and Kate’s cheeks reddened. Lover, maybe, though she seemed too young for that. All of you did; sitting in a small, warm kitchen together. There was a strange amount of violence in your life, starting with the moment you were gunned down. Your shoulder ached, and your heart did too.

Kate swallowed a gulp of milk from her bowl “No. He’s my mentor.”

You nodded and let the subject die in the air, much like your patience. Natasha’s plan was going to work. There wasn’t much to it, really. It gave Dina an excuse to not see you. After all, she was determined that you were going to fail, and you had, miserably.

She couldn’t keep you here forever, could she? Though part of you had to admit, looking at a small piece of Natasha’s life, her real life, was thrilling. You could imagine yourself ordering take-out here, because neither of you could cook, curled up on her sofa with the small black cat. In another world, you would have met Natasha’s sister over a drink, and not over restraints. In the real world, she shut her magazine and studied you as any widow would.

“Natasha said that you are a vigilante,” Yelena said.

“Not a vigilante. I serve a God. Whatever he wants, I do.” You said.

“Ah, so like, Charlie Manson.” Kate said.

“No, it’s not like that.” You frowned and made a nervous tug at your restraints. It wouldn't do anything, the metal dug further into your wrists with its stinging edge. Still, but made you feel like you were doing something, not just sitting here with the scent of sugary cereal in your lungs. “I owe him a debt. He saved my life.”

“The Red Room saved my life. Natasha’s too. They gave us food, shelter, what we thought was love.” Yelena gave Kate a tender look, one of gratitude, and maybe something more. It felt like you were witnessing something you shouldn't. Her stare turned hard again “They also brainwashed us and manipulated us to kill. They trained us into assassins with a dripping ledger for a debt owed.”

You repeated weakly, mind tired “It’s not like that.”

Yelena didn’t’ push after that. She let out a deep sigh and turned the page of her magazine to another dump of tabloids. Aliens spotted in Kansas; the large crop circles were a bunch of drunk teenagers. An amusement part that combusted was the fault of a chewed electrical wire.  

Kate had granted you with a blanket and another cup of water before redirecting you to the sofa as if you had a common cold. She explained that she and Yelena had been catching up on all the classic films she could think of. Yelena hated Back to the Future, but cried at Sixteen Candles- laughed at Heather's.

You had been in worse situations. This almost felt normal, like you had just ordered takeout and popped in a VHS tape. But sometimes the cuffs tugged, and your exhaustion flared. By the time they settled on Titanic, your eyes felt heavy, and you gave in to sleep, breathing in the soft lavender scent that clung to Natasha’s blankets. The small black cat curled behind your legs; your breath lined up.

Yelena had fallen asleep against Kate’s chest when you awoke. The end credits of the movie scrolled at a molasses pace. Your throat was sore, the small animal purring against the crook of your arm. You didn’t remember the cat moving, nor did you recall drifting into unconsciousness. Maybe you did need rest, after all.

“They’re fantastic at this guarding thing, huh?”

You drew in a sharp and cold breath, eyes darting to Natasha. She was leaning against the back of the sofa. A fond smile on her face as she looked at her sister and the archer. The blonde's fingers knit through Kate’s shirt, holding it as an anchor.

“I like your cat,”

“Liho likes you, it seems.”

Her deep green eyes flicked in your direction. Goosebumps rose against your skin, blush moving to your cheeks. This was Natasha, you realized. She was being vulnerable with you, as you had been with her. Allowing you into her home, to meet her sister. Superpowered handcuffs or not, this was her being lenient.

“I hate to admit it, but you had the right idea, letting your aunt lead us to the tomb. I’ve been trained in the best methods of tracking, recovering.” She frowned, moving her hand over the folded fabric of the couch “But ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics are out of my scope.”

You pulled yourself into a sitting position, careful not to disturb the small cat. She shifted easily onto your lap with nothing more than a little huff and the twitch of a pink nose. Natasha looked at you tentatively and sat on the other end of the couch. You could smell her again, the floral odor of detergent and warmth. It relaxed you.

Her knee was folded under her, touching yours. She reached over and scratched Liho under the chin. The cat let out a small mew of appreciation. It brought a smile to your face.

“You could have turned me over the SHIELD. You didn’t. Why?”

“They tend to react impulsively upon things they do not understand. And they certainly would not understand you. I don’t understand you.” She frowned, pulling her hand back into her lap. “But I think I want to.”

There were reserves, of course, there were. Her breath was warm against your collarbone. You had both inadvertently leaned in. There was coffee and mint on her exhale. You had buzzed the last time you’d inched this close. First figuratively, and then literally. But here, you were restrained, compliant. Too exhausted to make awkward sarcastic jokes. You wanted to drown in this moment.

She closed the distance between, nose cold against your cheek. Her taste was thinly sweet, the kiss tender and careful. Your fingers twitched, eager to weave into her mane of red hair, the cuffs preventing you from pulling her closer. Her own hand moved up to cup your jaw. You sighed into her mouth, content.

Natasha whimpered when you pulled away, a quiet sound. It shot something right to your core. You drew in a deep breath and smiled. That was something you could do all day if your lungs hadn’t been screaming for air. Even then, you considered it a good way to go.

“Thank you for not knocking me unconscious that time.” You spoke.

She laughed, shaking her head. There was a comfortable stillness to the air, an electric charge that had fizzled into longing. Yelena grumbled into the small of Kate’s neck, the sound muffled. Kate continued to snore softly in tune to Liho, still in your lap.

“Do you think you can let me out of these things?” You asked, putting on your best puppy dog look, hoping it would melt the mighty widow. “I promise I won’t go all Avatar on you, I’ll even wear them as fancy glowing bracelets.”  

She narrowed her eyes at you. There was no way you could stack up against two widows and an archer. Natasha must have read your mind because she produced the small magnetic fob and unlatched the cuffs, your shoulders relaxed, and the familiar ache that always plagued the one throbbed feverishly.

It gave you enough lead way to ghost your fingertips against her cheek, the warmth of her skin under yours. You had been wanting to do that for a long time, feel the way her features settled into a frown or a warm sunny smile. Natasha was beautiful and dangerous, and that gave you a spike of adrenaline.

You kissed Natasha again, fingers fisting her collar. It was urgent this time, like the thought of breathing her in was keeping you alive. But then again, it wasn’t.

You think toys from the Avengers box of tricks will keep me at bay? Get rid of her.

He was.

Taglist (Let me know if I forgot you!): @143bc @fayhar @almaperegrinespipe @justyourwritter69 @maddess @bxrbiewrites @jasminebelding @i-need-somebody-else @sapphic-girl @pianogirl2121 @strangegardentaco @ohmy-godyes @littlebluestone @kacka84 @lenam07 @tforjtap @iwishforausername @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @honeymoonbbie

[unholyhelbig]

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

Main Masterlist | Ao3 | Request a Prompt

Join my Taglist

Oneshots:

MoonVista: When Natasha has a floral related emergency, who better than a florist to help?

Little Accidents: Natasha is asked to watch Lila and some hospital visits are unavoidable.

Hallway Meetings: After a mugging, your neighbor finds you in the hallway and patches you up.

Spin Cycle [18+]-Reader is working the overnight shift at the laundromat when a mysterious stranger comes in with motives that are clear from the start.

Hail Hydra- Reader is sent into the Framework, an alternate world where her biggest regret is remedied. What happens when she realizes that this might be a better reality?

You Had One Job

When Natasha and reader are sent on a surveillance mission, tensions are high and mistakes are made.

[Part One | Part Two]

Play Me a Memory

Reader is a pianist at a bar in the streets of Berlin. Natasha is deep undercover and tells herself she's not going to create ties here, but she can't help noticing you.

[Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven]

Crescent [MoonKnight!Reader x Natasha]

Natasha is sent to infiltrate a prestigious art family in New York, that is hunting for an ancient and dangerous tomb. She's prepared for everything- everything except for Khonsu's avatar.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve

The Oversight [Mafia Boss AU] [Completed]

When reader takes a loan from Natasha Romanoff and is unable to pay her back, she's offered a deal in exchange for her services.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

The Oversight Oneshots

Work Life Balance- When Reader gets injured during a job, she begins to worry about how her Mafia boss girlfriend will respond.

The Carpool Lane- You get caught up while running an errand for Natasha and aren't able to pick your daughter up from school. You ask Natasha to do it and she has to grapple with some big feelings.

Old Flames- When reader has an unexpected run-in with an old flame and things go less than well, Natasha takes things into her own hands.

Little Marksman- Natasha's mother makes an impromtu visit to the United States, sending Natasha and Yelena into a sprial about how their mother will react to their partners.

We Have Your Daughter- When Veronica is taken from a friends house in the middle of the night, it's clear that reader and Natasha will stop at nothing to get her back and get revenge.

Dig Your Own Shallow Grave- Kate Bishop is known as the ex-heiress that was welcomed into Natasha's fold long before you. You learn pieces about her everyday, but never the full story. Not until today.

Rose Colored Glasses- Reader gets word that Natasha is hurt and rushes home to assess the situation.

The Sword and the Stone- Reader and Natasha get into a heated argument when Reader starts to doubt her true purpose in Natasha's life.

Chyornaya Redka- With Reader is away on a job and Ronnie comes down with a nasty cold, it's up to Natasha to come to the rescue.

[unholyhelbig]

Want to see something specific? You can request it here.

Want to be a part of my tag list? I'll notify you when I post a fic!

Kate Bishop x Reader

I'll be Home for Christmas [Five Parts]

The Best Medicine is Honesty [Oneshot]

The Bishop Girl [Part One | Part Two | Part Three]

A Favor for Clint [Part One | Part Two]

Royal Pain [Oneshot]

En Garde! Kate Bishop [Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five]

I don’t Bite [Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Moonvista [Oneshot]

You Had One Job [Part One | Part Two]

Play Me a Memory [Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven]

Crescent: Moonknight!reader x Natasha Romanoff

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

-> I have an Instagram editing account as well. While it's not fanfiction, it is a huge passion of mine where I edit all of these wonderful humans. Check it out!

-> Promise this is the last thing: I also used to write a lot of Pitch Perfect fanfiction. It's right here if you want to read that too.

[unholyhelbig]

No because I really want to write Natasha Romanoff x MoonKnight!Reader

[snowberriies]

:(( i want marvel cuddles

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

(slightly different to the one bed trope - you’re already in a sort of established relationship. And this is the very first time you’re sharing a bed as a couple). 

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: tell me what you think about adding in the character photos, do we like it or not?? Because I can’t decide…

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

Keep reading

[unholyhelbig]

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.

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