#moon knight x male reader

pairing: steven grant x male reader

req: no | wc: 545

a/n: guess i’m getting back to writing

“Is that my jumper?” 

Steven looks down at himself, pulling the jumper he’s currently wearing by the neckline as if to look inside it. He frowns only for a moment before looking back up and giving you an innocent answer, “No…”

It was rather unconvincing, what with the way he analyzed himself longer than a second. You raise a brow, “Really? I was sure one of mine had gone missing straight from the cabinet.”

“Very sure.” He says.

His answers are short, you notice, and he’s avoiding your eye contact.

“Ah, a jumper-thief must be on the rise, then.” You remark while looking away from him. You stare at him through your peripheral, though, and you can see him fighting the urge to laugh. “Hmm…” You hum as you fake-ponder, “That jumper doeslook an awful lot like the one I wore a couple days ago. Are you sure it isn’t mine?”

“I’m not a jumper-thief, love.” He can’t help but snicker. “How dare you accuse me?”

“Apologies…” You drag out the ‘i’, “I mean, it wouldn’t be bad if it was mine, ya know? I actually think it’d be rather cute, Steven.”

Steven considers it for a second. He stares down at the jumper again, weighing his options, then replies, “What if it wasyours..?”

“I wouldn’t be mad.” You offer him a smile, “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“No, no, I mean..” You can see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he visibly gulps, “What…What would you do? Action-wise. Like, would you-” He fumbles with his words, mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish.

“Would I what, Steven?” You ask, even though you know what comes next.

“Would you kiss me?”

You admire him in his flustered state for a second. His head is tilted down a bit, eyes wide awake and hopeful, lips slightly pursed as if puckered up for the kiss they knowis about to come, eyebrows raised expectantly, and fingers fidgeting together. Even if his lips were sure of it, the rest of him certainly wasn’t, so you took that to your advantage.

“I think that’s going too far for a jumper-thief.” You shake your head, ”Too merciful, you know?”

“Really?” Steven bites his lip, “I-I dunno. I think it’s justthe right response.”

You chuckle, “Is it?”

“Yeah,” He nods, “I think so.” His eyes are not on yours yet, but they’re not shy, far from it. They’re on your lips, hard focused on them, even.

“Think you might be right, then.” You say, just to test his focus. His eyes don’t stray.

“Yeah?” He asks, breathlessly.

“Yeah.” You affirm.

“Then I stole your jumper.” Steven finally admits. He doesn’t wait for you to answer, instead, his fingers tangle themselves in the hair at the back of your head and with them he brings you in towards him.

His lips find refuge in yours, and as bold as the pull was, the kiss is rather shy and sweet. It describes him perfectly: shy, sweet, and nervous… and lovely. Steven was lovely.

When you part, he can’t help but grin. “I’m a jumper thief, huh?”

His eyes follow your fingers as they tug at yourjumper’s bottom hem playfully, as if entranced by you. “Suppose you are.”

pairing: steven grant x tour guide m reader

req: no | wc: 1.5k | pre-ep 1

summary:You wonder sometimes how it feels to be held. You wondered other times how it feels to be held by him.

a/n: i need to use this prompt again i don’t feel like i wrote it quite as i wanted to before.

You wonder sometimes how it feels to be held, to be surethat he who holds you cares for you. To feel the skinship of their arms against your body, even if, in this imaginary situation, you’re both clothed. To sway under Khonsu’s moon, Sah’s stars, and the influence of Hathor’s sweet love. To feel loved.

You wondered other times how it feels to be held by him, the giftshopist. His name, Steven Grant, you barely even knew; and you didn’t even learn it from him at first. You were too shy to ask him yourself. Instead, you’d resorted to learning it from Donna, the mean boss with a snark tongue for you, and an even snarker one for the man you were asking about. Needless to say, she had not painted her impression of him in a nice light, though it wasn’t a nice art piece either.

Regardless, you were dumbly entranced by him. You often took to observing him at his spot at the gift shop counter as he rearranged an unorganized pen rack—which garnered many close calls for his attention, that’s for sure. It was a good thing your tours started and ended near the gift shop.

There was a place against hiscounter where you leaned when you waited between tours, a nice space you could take discreet glances from. At some point, however, you had become nothing like discreet, and he’d taken notice of how much time you spent there.

You stare at him, and he begins to turn, so you busy yourself with your phone again. You should really just ask him out already. Donna was starting to notice the staring and you didn’t want to have “the talk”.

Though it seemed your boss wasn’t the only person noticing your stares.

“Hey.”

You snap your head towards him and only catch on after turning. You hope he doesn’t notice your urgency. “Hey..”

“I’m Steven,” (You knew that already) “I work the gift shop. You’re the new tour guide, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes I am.” You’d only been working for about a week. It was a little strange how long it took for introductions to take place. “I’m (y/n).”

“Nice to meet you, (y/n)!” He cheerfully replies. “Do you lead the standard tour?”

You quirk your head, “What is it that you mean? There’s only one type.”

“Oh, well, I mean…” He shakes his head, suddenly turning shy, “Do you say the same things Dylan does? The usual Pyramid of Giza exposition, some sputtering about the siblings Osiris, Isis, etc…”

“Oh! I don’t, actually. I improvise most of the time.” 

“You do?” Steven’s eyebrows raise high in a comical stare of surprise.

“Yeah. I, uh, studied Egyptology in college, and while “tour guide” wasn’t exactly my ideal job, I can still use what I’ve learned to my advantage.” You clasp your hands together and smile at him, hoping it subtly hides the nervous fiddling of your fingers.

There was a sparkle in Steven’s eye now. You suppose he’s not talked with someone this interested in Egyptology in a while now, if at all. Donna certainly didn’t seem the type. “Did you find any God in particular interesting?”

Each one was interesting in their own ways, but staring into Steven’s eyes now, engaging in a realconversation that you’d dotingly imagined for some time, there was one answer. “Hathor.”

“Which representation?” He follows smoothly.

“Love.”

Steven rambles on about her, Hathor, particularly her love aspect; not noticing how he’s not quite letting you speak–not that you mind–nor your obvious sheep’s eyes. For someone talking about the Goddess of Love, he was not aware of the foolish amour forming that very moment.

It was only about a few weeks later when you were fed up, not at him, not at the job, but at yourself. There was only so much patience to go around, and you were running out of it. This was a crush, that’s for sure, and it felt insufferable to even see him nowadays. You had to at least try.

So you did. You asked him out.

He accepted.

God, you were ecstatic. You were so foolish for waiting this long, but you were ecstatic!

Wait. Did he know this was a date? Oh Gods. Did you ask him out as if on a date? Did you specify this was a date?

You were meeting over tea and biscuits. That was a usual “friends” kind of thing, too.

Perhaps you’d simply forgotten. Perhaps you did-

“(y/n), hey.” Steven greets you with a deep inhale, snapping you out of your thoughts. “How are you?”

“I’m good… how about you? You seem,” You pause, gesturing at him vaguely, “breathless, as if you ran over here. Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes.” He quickly replies, taking a seat in front of you. “I’m alright, perfectly fine.” Subtly, he hopes, he wipes the sweat off his brow. He was not quite as discreet as he wished to be, but you weren’t one to point that out.

You stare at him uneasily and he gives in. “Okay, I slept in a little. Before I knew it, I was only thirty minutes away from our meeting time, and-” He checks the time, “Would you look at that, I ended up being late!”

“It’s quite alright, Steven.” You chuckle, which eases him a little. “I was deathly afraid of being late too.” You admit, “That’s why I showed up early.”

“Right…” Steven smiled bashfully, his gaze drifting down. “Not that our date didn’t mean anything to me! I didn’t sleep in because I was careless- I’m not that! I’m not careless at all! If anything, I’m care-full. I just don’t have such a good track record with sleeping, and-”

Date. It was a date, and he knew that. “It’s alright, Steven.” You laugh, not at him, but at yourself. Of course, even if you were a fool for him, you wouldn’t be foolish enough to forget to mention it. “I swear.”

Steven nods slowly. “Right, yeah.”

If you didn’t know it already, Steven had practically just admitted that he was nervous. God, he was awfully nervous. He’s always been a nervous guy, that’s for sure; simply more so when you asked him out, and even more so today. You always made him more nervous, with your rolled up button up sleeves and colorful dress pants, bashful smile, eyes showing your full attention on him even as he rambled…even if you didn’t differ from that today.

Man, he was crushing on you hard.

Eventually, the time came when you didn’t have to wonder anymore. When the nights became sleepless, filled only with your love for each other.

Under Khonsu’s moonlight that seeped through the cracks of the cheap window blinds, he held you. Under Sah’s stars that twinkled in the sky just as his own eyes did, he held you. And, under a sweet, sweet love that you prayed your thanks to Hathor for every night, he held you.

And you held him.

Steven was never one for eye contact, it made him even more nervous, but your eyes were an exception. He could stare at them forever if he was allowed; if Khonsu and Thoth stopped time just for you.

It was a particularly cold night, and even if the heating of his apartment truthfully sucked, you were both warm. Steven felt your warmth as if it were his own, as if his bare arms were nothing but a vessel for the hot warmth yours brought. Even in your light pj’s, you were nothing but warm.

Steven knew he was in love, and he knew you were too. It was the feeling of being held; being held with care. He was by no means fragile, yet you held him tenderly just the same. It was the slight sway of your bodies moving along with the music produced by the press of your lips together, like it was your lips that was everything the world consisted of. It was your eyes, intent on him and his own; the dark lakes that reflected the night sky and the stars upon clear nights.

You kiss him again, and he hums against this one. There’s a smile to it too, he’s sure you can feel it against your lips. There’s always a smile when you’re involved.

“You look happy tonight, Steven.”

“Of course I am. You’re with me.”

You snicker bashfully, “I could say the same thing about you, handsome.”

Steven flushes, flustered. He’d never be able to get used to your compliments. He distracts himself by stealing another kiss from your lips, then continues with the confidence from that, “Say it.”

“Well,” You start with a smirk, “I feel like I’ve walked out of the gift shop with the clerk as my gift. Couldn’t help myself, y’see?”

He laughs out loud at the weird metaphor and your goofy smile and your playing it off as if it were a real line; and it interrupts your sway.

“What?” You laugh, as if not knowing the absurdity of your words, “What is it?”

“Oh, shut up!” He exclaims half-heartedly, “You know what you said.”

“But I didn’t! Explain it to me, dear.” You bring him into a sway again, fighting the urge to spin him like the ballroom dances. “I’ll listen, like I always do.”

“Okay, okay. You’ll be laughing at the end of it, though, and you’ll have no choice but to admit it.”

“Will I?”

“Yeah!”

He didn’t need to daydream anymore, and neither did you.