I don’t like Mondays: Steven Grant x fem! Reader blurb
Summary:after Steven’s awful Sunday he was convinced was a Friday, can you make his Monday just a little better?
Genre:fluff, meet cute, hints of romance.
Author’s note: I had ZERO (0) intention of writing for Steven Grant, yet after the week he’s had I simply wanted him to have a happy moment. Maybe I’ll never write him again -this was a very quick one- but here he is! Let me know what you think! (Obviously I don’t have lots of characterisation to lean on yet, but considering I wrote 15k for Dieter before seeing the canon… this isn’t the silliest thing I’ve attempted )
Warnings: LIGHT EP 1 SPOILERS. Follows on from his on-screen Sunday, but otherwise not canon-heavy on the Moon Knight side (more so on the gift shop side ). Allusions to canon-specific mental health (time skips, DID, sleeplessness, distress, questioning reality) but not the major theme. Donna is rude (shocker!). Swearing. Coupla digs at museums, soz.
Rating: teen, but my blog is 18+ please and thank you!
You march up to the counter in the gift shop, approaching the sad sack (affectionate) man behind the sales desk. He looks like an amalgamation of every moody indie Brit-pop frontman you had a crush on as a teenager - and you enjoy that about his aesthetic. His appearance is oddly comforting to you. Nostalgic.
He looks like he hasn’t slept since Jarvis Cocker was last in the charts either, judging by the heavy bags beneath his eyes, a few shades darker than his lightly-lined tan-brown skin.
Even as you approach the desk he looks as though he is struggling to stay awake; though he does perk up marginally as you sidle up and plant you palms flat on the counter.
“Hello! Are you in charge here?” you ask brightly, your tone full of enough energy that it seems to affront him, in his tired haze. Still, he does offer you an adorable half-arsed wave, which makes your heart involuntarily melt - especially as the motion jiggles the curls waffling delightfully across his forehead.
“Hiya. No. Chance would be a fine thing. That would be Donna.” His voice is softer than you would have expected. You quite enjoy that. It’s a gentle thing. Unobtrusive. Perfectly suited for a museum or a library, in fact. Ideal for intimate cafe conversations over text books and coffee.
His accent is different to what you may have conjured in your head too. A few degrees left of local. An unusual -though not unpleasant- twang which you can’t quite place.
“Great. Can I speak to her, please? To Donna?”
“Well. I wouldn’t recommend it.” His face crumples, brow and mouth collapsing with a weight, even as he attempts a soft breathy laugh. His manner is a little awkward, you note, -like he’s not entirely comfortable in his own skin- but endearingly so. Endearing enough that you glance down to his name tag, wishing to put a name to this new face.
