#I JUST WANNA WRITE

[ast3ryne]

Go the Distance

Request: #9 & #17 on the post on my prof @thesurroundingbeauty

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

Warnings: None tbh (but if there should be lmk)

Word Count: 1714

Summary: Regardless of how much you like Steven Grant, it seems like he just can’t stay put, and the one thing you hate almost as much as infidelity is inconsistency.

A/N: I’ve actually quite missed writing, sorry if it’s kinda boring I did find myself drawing this out a tad bit, also unedited asf

Steven Grant, public nuisance to some, clumsy and unreliable to others, but above all, your boyfriend…for now. Don’t get it wrong, Steven is a sweetheart, the sweetest even, but he’s inconsistent. Not just that he doesn’t text all the time, or doesn’t keep up the same energy and attitude with you inconsistent (that’s dealable, that’s every guy you’ve been with so far), no he literally disappears for days, weeks even, at a time. Not a word to you, his job doesn’t seem to notice, or when they do they don’t care all that much, it’s like Steven Grant just…poofs into thin air at least twice a month.

You’ve tried to get him to explain, for any reassurance so your head isn’t rife with thoughts of a secret family, a wife he’s hiding, something to justify it, but Steven acts like he was never gone to begin with. As though you imagined him seemingly going missing every time you guys find your footing again.

Which led you to today, you demanded he take you back to his flat, something he’s always insisted against after dates, and opting to stay with you instead.

“It’s quite a mess, you know.” He’d muttered as he slowly pushed open the door to his flat, and had he been anyone else but Steven maybe that would’ve been surprising, but you pretty much expected that from him at this point.

You both stepped inside, him a bit more fidgety than usual, but then again the usual was pretty damn fidgety anyways. You’d grown to love those little things about Steven, which is perhaps why instead of dumping him, like you planned, you delayed it even more.

Carefully, you stepped into the room, taking in the decor, if it could be called that. It’s more like his obsession with the history spilled into even this aspect of his life, walls of books, everywhere, above his bed, to the far right end, hell even the middle of the room was separated by a bookshelf, which perfectly framed the vibrant blue aquamarine in the middle of it, it was the most color in the space actually, so naturally you gravitated toward it, Steven mirroring your movements and landing on the opposite side of the tank.

“What’s its name?” You finally say, breaking the silence that felt like it was holding the both of you hostage, and Steven himself seemed relieved at that because he immediately piped up.

“Gus, he’s rather anomalous actually. He’s grown back that-” he gestured to your side, “-fin back a few days ago. Though that shouldn’t be possible, considering he was born that way.”

You almost respond, wanting to ask what exactly he means by that, but he presses his hand to the glass, the fish swimming up quite happily and blowing bubbles at him. Steven. You find yourself thinking that with him a lot, just his name, and his beautiful face popping in your head to follow.

“What about all of those, the statues and stuff.” You ask, moreso to keep from the drawn out silences again, but much to your delight Steven’s face lights up, right away he moves on from the fish tank and rounds to your side, grabbing your hand and pulling you both into the nook you presume he does most of his work in, because the book stacks are even messier than others. Papers skewed about, some with handwriting that could only be Steven’s with how borderline illegible it is, but somehow still clearly meant to be cursive. Steven.

“This…is where I do most of my work, all of my research, general inquiry and delving, it’s my little hobbit hole so-to-speak,” he starts, moving a stack out of the way as he pulls out the desk chair, “and of course, most of it revolves around egyptian mythology, as confusing and slightly convoluted as that can be.

You see her,” he asks as he picks up a small figurine, thought it’s more of a statement, “this is the goddess, Tefnut, who’s pretty much the goddess of water, in simple terms and-”

You don’t understand much after that actually, and while that may have to do with the fact that you know next to nothing about Egyptian mythology, it’s more likely because you’re distracted. He moves back and forth through the small space, his eyes alight as he went through the gods in the Ennead and their stories, though if he asked you to recite any of it back to him…well you’d be talking about different topics entirely.

You were far more interested in the way his messy dark hair flopped with every excited movement, or how his eyes flit between you and his work, making sure you were still listening, or how everytime he paused to catch his breath, his pupils dilated all over again at the sight of you.

It softened you, as much as someone who doesn’t really want to let go can be softened that is, but he is still inconsistent. You turned to the rest of the room, your eyes glossing over the bed, and then doubling back at the restraints on the support beams, oh.

Steven’s still rambling, though he kinda lost you the second he tried to explain the afterlife process, so you place a hand on his shoulder, gently, but pretty firmly guiding both of you over to his bed, pushing him down so he’s sat with you standing over him.

“Steven, I need you to be honest, very honest with me…is there someone else?” Actually, that’s not what you were going to say, but that question bubbled to the surface, and it just seemed much more important than…well if he was a part of an organized crime group.

He stared at you, but not so much at you, more through you, like he was paying attention to you, but listening to something else…except the room is quiet.

“Steven?” you repeat, hoping to snap him out or something.

“Y/N…” he starts, sighing as he takes his hands in his, handling you with the care you’ve grown to appreciate so much, like you’re one of his fragile artifacts, “I’m not seeing anyone but you…and I’m not interested in it either.”

Your brows furrow, as reassuring as that is, that explains nothing.

“Then explain-“ you pull your hands away, picking up the leg restraint nearby instead “-explain that. And the constant disappearing, I mean for goodness sake Steven whenever it feels like we’re doing good for longer than a week you just-you disappear!” Your voice raises at that last part, the built up frustration surfacing as you finally have the chance to question him.

Again, he stared up at you, through you, his mind elsewhere.

The two of you stay like that for several beats, in the silence, your mind racing while was his miles ahead, or behind, you truly can’t tell with this man.

Finally, he takes your hands back into his, gripping them like you’ll disappear the second he lets go, he sighs, closes his eyes, nods, shakes it, and nods again, before opening them.

“I sleep walk, that’s why I have those restraints. And I know, believe me I know how insane this is going to sound, but it’s dangerous, not just for me but for everyone else,” not once does he break eye contact with you, which is so unlike Steven who sputters when you hold his gaze a few seconds too long, “I go to sleep, and wake up miles from home, with no idea how I’ve found myself there, no clue what I did when I was ‘asleep’, just the knowing something is so so wrong.”

He shakes his head, closing his eyes for a couple of beats before continuing, “I don’t- can’t trust myself Y/N. My life constantly feels like it’s falling apart around me, I spend days at a time trying to piece together what happened, how I could’ve gotten away from myself, the only constant in my life right now is..well you. And I’ve gone and mucked this up too.”

You’ve never seen Steven like this, so sure of what he’s saying, and this being the context that allows you to see this side is, well, frightening. He isn’t partaking in infidelity and half-truths, he’s dealing with whatever this insanity is. And it’s taking a toll on him, as sure as he is about what he’s saying, his brows are scrunched, trying to gauge your reaction, his hands, steady as they are, are sweating profusely at the moment, he’s even chewing the inside of his bottom lip.

You close your eyes, soaking everything in, and then sit beside him, never pulling your hands away.

“If the only thing I have to worry about is your body taking you against your will,” You start, your own nervousness seeping into your voice at your words, as if that’s not a wildly concerning statement to begin with, “then all I ask…is that you don’t go anywhere I can’t follow you.”

At that, Steven’s eyes widen, maybe in surprise that you’re not telling him to see a ward, or simply because that’s the last thing he expected to hear, it’s certainly the last thing you expected to say today.

“Y/N…I…that’s-“ his grip on your hand tightens even more, like a warning, but he certainly wasn’t warning you. “-so you still want to be with me?”

“Yes, Steven.”

“Sleepwalking, eccentricities and all?”

“Yes Steven.”

“Truly are you sure? I understand if you’re just being nic-“

“I’m absolutely certain Steven.”

“Even though I really am quite a mes-“

You shake your head pulling your hands away, and for a second his face falls, like that action alone was you saying no despite everything you’ve said , so you grab his face, pulling him in so your lips meet before he can spiel any more doubt. He tenses first, and then melts, letting his hands meet your wrists, holding you firm, yet again, like you’re bound to disappear if he lets go.

Neither of you pull away, so you sit in silence, a much more comfortable silence, as your foreheads are pressed together, Steven’s dark doe eyes staring at you like you are the most precious artifact in this room, if not all of London.

[nevaronn]

yumichika covers his neck because ikkaku leaves too many bites and hickeys on it to be shown in public its true ikkaku told me himself

[ilkkawhat]

[roseshewrites]

If anyone would understand, I feel like it'd be you guys!! Y'ALL, MY FRIEND BOUGHT ME A WORD PROCESSOR !!!

I cannot express my levels of excitement as I promptly began an organizing process for my in progress Hazbin fics. What the fuck. Omg.

And just because I've started such a huge chronological project seeing it this way feels MUCH, MUCH MORE ACHIEVABLE.

1. The Devil's Forked Path - Alastor's childhood

2. An Emerald Piece Of You - Alastor's adulthood/romantic side story/explanation as to who owns his soul

3. A Neon Piece Of You - Alastor's pre-seven year absence era

4. A Golden Piece Of You - pure enemies to lovers RadioApple with a plot twist

5. A Golden Piece Of You Part II - Conclusion to all

Guys. Guys.

This journey is so huge. I'm trying to get out of my writers block so bad. Pray for my soul (or lack thereof), I need good energy (and a lot of devilish energy too), to get through this 🥸 what have I started? What have I done?

Hazbin Hotel has taken over my life.

I'm healing my religious trauma AND getting to heal my inner child with obsolete tech she's always wanted?! DONE. I'M DONE. Life is good and I'm a burning Alastor obsessed trash fire.

[leo-a-nb]

I really wanna write a fanfic but i English isn't my first language and i have no idea how to not make it cringy. I've written fanfic before, sure. But it was in Portuguese and i was in 8th grade. So, like, i don't know what to do. I have that need for writing a fanfic but i know that i can't 😭😭

[love-the-running]

Born to write gay fanfiction, forced to work 40 hours a week 😔

[tacticalkevlar]

I don’t usually do these, but starter call. Specify muse or get whoever I want to toss at you.

[ranger-kellyn]

can i PLEASE get my creative drive back ;~;

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

the characters want me to write about them being horny but unfortunately i have Things To Do

[redux-iterum]

hope you feel better soon!

Thank you! I'm about 90% back to normal now, I'm just extremely drained and low on energy. Which is very annoying because I wanna work on stuff but Lynx keeps telling me to rest and unfortunately she's right most of the time so I've just been laying around like

[give-bucky-his-boyfriend-back]

Born to write a gay dystopian novel, forced to work my 9-5 boring job

[smallraindrops-blog]

Not me researching which greek gods i need to make a sacrifice to get rid of this cursed writer block.

[fadagaski]

Why is writing so hard? Like, the reward of labour well-spent, sure, but why is it SO hard?

[roseshewrites]

As promised, a Female!Alastor (we're calling her Alice)/Female!Reader. I tried my utmost to fit every theme you requested into my story.

NSFW~

You had gotten into it deep. Like, the way Alice would look at you sometimes; that calculated stare, red and gleaming, the sight of her pointed and gray face loomed in the darkness of her radio station like a coined moon. How she *walked*, as if her slim hips swayed to silent music, her cane tapping with her feet on the soft carpet.

Ho, boy. 

Established friendship, you reminded yourself. 

Difficult to do when Alice was so vehemently friendly with you; and she didn't, not often, and not with very many people. This made you feel special, but also a little sad. Female friends were hard to come by for you, so shoving down your own concerns about *the stupidest of bisexual crushes* was the least you could do for her. 

And tonight was, by far, the girliest of nights Alice had allowed you to loop her into. She was normally so busy that her time spent radio broadcasting, hotel proprieting and otherwise not so secretively demolishing whole raw venison kept her out of your loop.

And this was the first time in literally *weeks* she had finally agreed to let you paint her nails; provided you also sharpened them as well. 

Not to be outdone by a slight pitter patter of the heart, you swallowed your giddiness and hefted your box of makeup and nail polish up to the top floor to her room; behind the door, a soft jazz beat echoed lightly.

"Have you killed the cheshire cat?" She eyed your pink fuzzy slippers amusedly. 

"Har-har-" you said, rolling your eyes and shoulder shoving her lightly on your way in. "Keep that up, I'll paint your talons pink and not red." 

"You wouldn't dare," her resulting grin reminiscent of the aforementioned cat; slightly mad, ever so hinting of the dark. 

Alice was what you liked to call 'at least half a French fry short of a happy meal.' 

You sat crosslegged on her bed while she messed with the dials of her old-fashioned radio. Alice had long ago abandoned her red suit jacket. Her hair, which was normally swept up into a simple braid or up-do, tumbled down her back. Her hair was thick, and so close to being wavy that it was nearly curly, but not quite. She had let you braid it, once, shortly after you both became friends. 

"Were you gonna go smoke?", you asked, noticing her long thin cigarette holder placed beside her radio. 

"I was, but you are here now. It can wait," Alice wandered to the tub of goodies on her bed, "Don't you have any..muted, or darker colors?" 

"God, you're so edgy," you smirked, shuffling through the tub. "Here. Red, for an edgy princess." 

"Call me a princess one more time. I dare you," Alice warned, with no real vigor, and only a small delicious smile. 

"Kinky. But I think I can take that dare. Also, hold out your hand, it's time to get you ready for the nail polish."

"Is that so?" Alice's crimson eyes flashed amusedly, settling next to you. 

You got a scent of her; she smoked outside, but the scent followed, and clung to her clothing and hair. Soft, smoky vanilla, a hint of cherry. Alice had a rich tapestry of small vices like that. 

Your face flushed a tad to your ears as you forced the proximity heat away and attempted to focus instead on holding her hand and filing down her cuticles.

"Mhm, that is so. Yup." 

"I don't think so. And I think if you called me a princess again, that you couldn't handle what followed." 

Her voice was a warming purr that scent chills down your spine. 

"Oh. Well. That's not entirely necessary," you excercised caution too little too late; you could tell. The thrill of the hunt and/or manipulation was glinting in Alice's eyes. "Oh! Sorry!" You drew back your hand, realized you had nicked her finger a bit too hard with the file. 

"Another dare for you," she examined her slightly wounded finger, "Either stop pretending you're not bold at all, or admit that you are somewhat of a cannibal, yourself." 

"You know me. I'm bold as holy hell." 

"Really?" 

You were having trouble controlling yourself. The wine and rich scent from just that tiny bit of blood on her finger.. You were more than just a tiny bit of a cannibal, you were one of the vampiric ones and come to think of it you hadn't had a bite to eat (or drink) all day. 

"Yeah," you breathed, leaning in, "I am bold. Princess," you whispered. 

You were normally the type to let other women make the first move, truthfully, but the way Alice was staring at you right now was undoing you. She was smiling like she did when she'd gotten her way; the cat who got the cream. 

"You have no idea how long I waited for you to admit that," she offered you her finger. 

Oh, gods. 

You touched that tiny droplet on her thumb, tasting it to your lips. Somehow or another, Alice also made her way to your lips, tasting of richness and her own tangy and beautiful blood, and her sweet scent that caressed chills all down your body. 

You wanted to crush her lips with yours and also just push her right down onto her own bed right then, but somehow you pulled apart from her long enough to murmur against her lips, "You kinda like being called that, don't you? Princess?" 

That simple thing seemed to thrill her, for the breath she loosed against your mouth, hot and quick. 

She did seem to like it a lot, actually, you marveled, letting her pin you down, your arms above your head. She kissed your neck and growled softly. All tense and coiled body language, her soft breasts pressing against yours as you pulled her close with your knees.

"You were waiting for me to make the first move," you whispered, "All this time?" 

"I wanted you to want me," she murmured against your neck, nibbling the skin there, making you shiver happily. "Whenever you did, that is when I'd accept it." 

She settled between your legs, making you moan and rock from the clothed friction, her slender fingers entwined into yours. 

"You'll do what I want then," you said, "Yeah?" 

"Yes, darling." 

"Oh-Criminy-" 

You surrendered yourself to her right then and there, or was she really just submitting to your unspoken desires? 

Alice allowed you to loose her suspenders and unbutton the collar at her throat, while you took your sweet time admiring the slender grace underneath. How even her collarbones were an art piece to the small swell of her breasts below them. You couldn't resist nibbling on one of her perked nipples and your core throbbed at how she moaned for you. 

She unbuttoned your jeans when you ground needily against her hand, chuckling softly at your eagerness. 

And her hands were so skilled. You were naked very soon underneath her as her tongue played yours like a violin. Her skin smelled just like her clothing, and you were in both heaven and hell for it. All smoky, and vanilla, and rich just like her dark mind and all her little tapestries of vices. 

"Oh God, Alice, more please-" 

"Whatever you like, my darling," she nibbled your ear with her sharp teeth. She obeyed you instantly and slid another slender finger into your wetness, curling upward and moving slowly as you panted against her neck. "Will you come for me?" 

"If you could m-make it last forever that'd be fantastic-" you gasped, still unable to stop yourself from arching at the sound of her voice, the pressure of her hands and fingers and all of her gentle and warm movements that followed. 

You clutched at her neck, saying something absolutely unintelligible as the pleasure crashed across your body in waves. 

True to your previous request, she didn't let you come down from that high entirely and moved her fingers slowly with your pleasure so that it all coasted again into another more intense crescendo. 

It was a double, or a triple, or something like that- you nearly lost count. She didn't stop until you whimpered that you were getting overstimulated no matter how you wanted it to continue. 

When you had collapsed together after that you just laid on her chest and softly caressed the other breast you weren't currently pressed to. 

"Alice," you said suddenly. 

"Mm, what?" 

"We never did paint your nails," you giggled, all flushed from your activities. 

You knew what she was going to say next, though. 

"That can wait," she murmured in her soft radio voice. 

[jeannieiscool]

I genuinely NEED someone to yap about my Supernatural OC to. I have a hyperfixation on it right now and I feel like I'm gonna die if I don't talk basically about myself if I was in Supernatural. (Which is pathetic, really) I just want to talk and write and draw and just feel like I'm gonna die if I don't write something because I have such amazing fanfic ideas in my head I can't stop, help.

[bisheepart]

Me; I should work on my fic Also me: *long suffering writer's block*