Request: could you please do what would dating my sweet baby steven grant would include please if not it’s okay! i love you hope you’re doing good!
Of my goodness my lovely of course!!
If you enjoy, please do let me know!! I’ve been really anxious about posting my work recently, so every kind comment really does help <3
Warning, slight NSFW content!
(I do not own Moon Knight or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @marveledits.)
☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°
Steven Grant, first and foremost, is a worry wart. I mean, a MASSIVE worry wart. Poor man was lying cradling his knees on the museum’s bathroom floor before he even had a chance to build up the nerve to ask you, his colleague, out for some bread or pizza or something.
The poor man, he nearly passed out when he came scrambling out from the bathroom after lunch and back to the gift shop desk. The sweat was pretty much dripping off his skin, and his mouth kept floundering as he ran and skidded to a stop in front of where you were scanning the new box of scorpion jellies.
‘Hiy/n-I think you’re really beautiful-and I’ve liked you for aslongasIcanremember- do you wanna maybe get some bread?’
You weren’t sure whether to start blushing as you placed the scanner down, or jump over the desk and hold your hands out for him with how much he was wobbling back and forth on his feet. As you step round towards him, the poor boi is wringing his hands so tightly they fear they might snap off. So you do the only thing you can think of and grab them, lips twitching at the way his eyes widen and you can hear the breath hitch in his throat.
He’s watching the way your lips move, eyes brimming with tears and close to crying as you tell him ‘you’d love to go to dinner with him, are you free tonight?’. He finds he can only nod fervently, the grin that brightens his face so colossal and overwhelming he starts hyperventilating. You have to sit with him, tucked knee to tuck knee under the desk for a while, hiding from your boss and cradling his shaking hands on your knees. Every so often while you’re talking his forehead accidently bumps against yours, and he breaks out into a fit of nervous giggles.
I feel like your first kiss would be on the museum steps a few weeks after dating. It had been a lovely evening of eating chimichangas and sharing an ice cream on the stone fountain by his living statue friend. He had extended his arm to you, and you gripped the soft rumples of his jacket happily as the two of you wandered back to the bus stop by the museum square. The two of you had a few minutes to spare before your buses arrived at the terminal, so he gladly agreed when you asked if he’d like to just sit for a while and watch the sunset.
You can find him inching closer and closer every so often on the cold marble step next to you, stopping so often as if terrified that you’ll finally come to your senses and reject his presence. Eventually, he’s sort of half sitting with his fists resting uncomfortably on his knees, and half scrunched over you. But his presence is always so soft, so calm, so comforting, as he peers up at you with those wonderous eyes. His attention is always on you. Always. Just looking at you with this almost timeless intensity. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, to want to spend his whole life ensnared by the most superlunary being he’s ever met. It feels like burning, the fire flickering in his eyes as he gazes at you betraying how much love cripples him on the inside, and yet he’s still smiling that gentle smile. As if he’s just always been waiting for you, and suddenly everything makes sense.
This line is hilarious and so in character, I can just imagine Steven asking it in his quiet, flustered voice god–
And it all just comes naturally after that, as if destiny had just been waiting for it’s perfect moment to draw him down in supplication to your shrine.
He’s so giddy he feels like’s vibrating, about to burst into a thousand rays of beaming moonshine, every single loving drop aimed at you.
Easy, Shakespeare. These lines are just *chefs kiss* They’re so wonderfully romantic and emotion evoking. I want them tattooed on my arm I stg
His arm is constantly around your waist, giggling into the side of your neck, holding hands CONSTANTLY, wrapping you into his coat with him etc.
I’m literally melting. Thanks for gifting me with the image of being wrapped up in a coat with Oscar Isaac, it will now be living in my mind rent free
He usually ends up being the small spoon, tucking his knees up to his chest and nuzzling his back against you.
I’ll be Steven’s big spoon any day of the week, just let me hold him and tell him everything will be okay :’)
What you’ve been waiting for (Steven Grant x Reader Smut)
Summary:Layla sends you to help Steven gear up before you go down in the tomb. Cue an angsty confession, an awkward kiss and other firsts you wish you had a lot more time for.
A/n: The beginning of this turned into self-indulgent angst after ep 5. But here’s a little something to take a break from sobbing.
***
You find Steven in one of the tents, bickering with the reflective surface of a table.
“Yeah, I know I’m bloody not alone. I’ve got Layla and y/n now. They’ve got my back.”
“He’s right.”
Steven nearly startles at the sound of your voice, but smiles when he sees it’s you.
“Trouble with the man in the mirror?” you ask sympathetically.
“Just the usual,” he dismisses. He notices the harness you’re carrying. “That for me?”
“Layla’s still looking for supplies. I’m supposed to get you geared up.”
To descend into a bloody death trap.
You push the thought away like you have been doing all night as he gives a quick nod.
“Oh, yeah, sure. Go ahead,” he leaves his bag on the table and comes to you, a bit unsure what to do next.
So are you, to be honest. You’re always a bit unsure what to do when it comes to him, especially when he’s looking at you with those big, brown eyes full of trust. It always makes your stomach flutter, and you’ve wondered more than once how come it’s not written plainly on your face in capital letters that you’re losing a new bit of your heart to him every time he comes close.
You give him a tight-lipped smile that you’re sure looks more nervous than you intend to, again, and fumble with the harness to figure out where everything is supposed to go. Once you do, you get on your knees so he can get his feet through the right loops.
And find yourself face to face with his crotch, the outline of him faintly visible through the fabric of his white jeans.
