𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

still cant believe taylor used to throw chairs on tour. lets bring that back

i’m an introvert until someone starts talking about the moon or my favorite books.

I could fix him. I could make him worse. Good for you. I could gently take the weapon out of his shaking, blood-soaked hand and hold him until he finally believes that he doesn't have to be defined by all the ways the world has hurt him. Then we could ruin the lives of everyone who has ever treated him like he's a monster who doesn't deserve love.

“I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we’re both unhappy, and we both suffer.”

— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Idiot

I would have liked to see this in the movie😂

Dating Steven Grant Would Include...

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.

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sometimes do you ever just want to

― Claude Monet

[text ID: I must have flowers, always, and always.]

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