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Heyy I never send requests because honestly I can’t explain what I mean but can you do
*hard to sit here and be close to you, and not kiss you* from the fritz gerald sentence starter list with steven grant
I loveeeee the way you write him 🥰
THE WAY THINGS CHANGE
a/n: thank you so much darling! i've been off my writing game for awhile. but i was listening to the head and the heart last night and gained some much needed inspo for steven. only to find this perfect request sitting in my inbox yet to be answered. so i hope you enjoy this late response.
summary: memories of steven grant haunted you like a history you could not change. they were your dreams, nightmares, and wishes that never came true.
word count: 1.5k+
pairing: steven grant x reader
warnings: none, angst, my attempts at being a writer again, idk this is probably not very good so be warned.
The sky was set aflame as the minutes and seconds ticked by. Your mug filled with cheap wine sat on the edge of the roof, your hands clasped around it. You wondered if you imagined hard enough that maybe the liquid would burn hot. Would it turn to coffee? The same type you had with him. Would the sun fade to a soothing darkened sky, scattered with very few stars and even fewer wishes.
His smile was an object of permanence in your mind's eye. The quirk of his lips, the pink hue that fell into a pout of confusion. Even if it was just to show he was listening.
Although when it came to Steven, he always listened.
If you shut your eyes—imagined a night sky of infinity and constellations and stars not yet wished upon—you could see him. You could feel the way his curls twined around your fingers. The soft brown was somehow your favorite hair color now. You never knew you had one until him. They became a staple when you remembered him. The singular trait you latched onto when you could no longer trace the shape of his face, the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose.
“What’s your favorite thing about the night sky?” you asked on a whim. The coffee perked you up slightly. Bitter and grainy on your tongue but perfect nonetheless. It allowed you to stand there at least, to stay awake as his own mind fought against the exhaustion that no doubt riddled his bones.
He never complained though.
Never told you that he lived on barely enough; that his mind was a place of chaos he’d been privy to for quite some time. You saw him as much as you could, but sometimes time never seemed to work in your favor. Time seemed to be intent on keeping the two of you apart.
He smiled—bright enough to put a sunset to shame. “The moon.”
“Of course,” you huffed.
His life wasn’t a secret to you. Steven—ever the man to consider others emotions—made sure to be upfront with you. As much as he possibly could of course. But some secrets were simply not his to tell, not a history he could divulge. So he made up in whispered words of lands that existed centuries ago. In stories that bridged the gap between humanity and the past. He regaled you with the history he could speak aloud with the hope that it would be enough.
That you’d be okay with just that.
“Tell me yours love.”
Somehow breath turned nonexistent around Steven. Your default had become to live eternally without it. Not that you minded much. Breathing was no longer a necessity when you yearned for the sensation that came without it. The skipped beat of your heart, the warmth that spread through your stomach, and the love you felt spark along each nerve and each limb.
With Steven you felt like you existed on a different plane. Problems were nonexistent. Humanity became an afterthought, and the possibility of anything flourished like a flower at the start of spring. Bright and beautiful and full of endless potential.
You’d describe your relationship with Steven that way. A perfect replica of that actually, but every now and then life collided with your shining star, knocking away the wish before you could make it. Steven held your hope in his open and inviting palms, yet the thought of permanency with him…felt further away with each passing day. He couldn’t remain. He could barely stay for the moments spent awake together.
“The stars,” you whispered, casting your gaze out onto the sea of tiny shining sparks in the sky. An endless amount of them out in space, yet so few shone in the night sky.
“For the wishes?”
You smiled. “I guess so.”
Oblivious to you, he had moved closer, his leg centimeters away from brushing against yours. “What are you wishing for tonight?”
Could you tell him? Could you reveal that your mind—your heart—was set on him. After all this time it would always be him. Steven had sunk into your life as one would fall to the bottom of a river. Softly, smoothly, until your breath slipped free in a thousand tiny bubbles. Yet you held the option to come up for air; you had every choice layed out in front of you.
When it came to Steve though…sinking was the choice you’d make every time. You’d rather drown in his sweetness than live without it. A fact that you’d come to terms with months ago.
“You tell me,” you replied, your eyes meeting his. So full of life, so full of hope. It nearly broke your heart in two.
He smiled. “It’s not really a wish.”
“I don’t care.”
“It’s…uh…” He tapped his finger on his leg. A subtle beat of morse code, each letter spelled out before your very eyes. You caught the makings of an L and an O, but the echo of his cough dragged your attention away. “It’s hard.”
“What’s hard?” you breathed.
He cleared his throat, a hint of crimson spilling onto the tops of his cheeks. “Hard to sit here and be so close to you, and not kiss you.”
Your stomach swooped, breath escaping your lungs faster than you could suck it in. Yet you still held his gaze. You kept it like a closely guarded secret; dug your fingers and nails into its makeup hoping that some part would remain once this moment ended. Once you were alone again, yearning for him to return. That was the thing about Steven though. You never had to hold on so tight, because without knowing it, he was already embedded in your heart. He was a part of your DNA.
“It doesn’t have to be,” you said softly, leaning a bit closer. The heat of your mug seared into the skin of your palms, but you ignored it for favor of the burning ache that spread through your stomach. Until it wrapped tightly around your heart.
Like a vice you’d never be able to escape.
“No?”
You shook your head, leaned even closer, and watched his eyes flick down to your lips. “Guess you figured out my wish.”
He let out a breath, shaky and warm, and you nearly collapsed as it washed across your face. Perhaps he wanted to say more, or maybe you should have been the one to keep talking, but Steven was never one to keep you waiting. He yearned for you like the moon did the sun. An ongoing cycle of passing one another by, until nothing remained but your simple silly little wishes scattered across the sky.
He held onto each one with reverence. With the patience of a man who knew that your time together would come. You’d flourish together, pass across one another. Even if it was for a brief amount of time. Steven had always been your wish, your eclipse that was yet to come, yours in more ways than you could imagine.
Cupping your cheek, he tugged you close enough until his nose pressed to your skin, his shaky breath an indication that he felt just as nervous as you. That this small moment of time was anticipated with a fervor you’d never understand. His lips met yours, barely there at first, a soft brush of skin against skin. You felt hesitant, scared that he wouldn’t want more than this.
Until you heard him groan. Broken and long and absolutely withering. He tugged you closer, his lips slotting against yours rougher than before. And you felt the heat spill searingly into your chest, a soft moan bubbling to the surface to echo in the night air. He swallowed it with ease, his fingers lightly digging into your cheek, hand moving to press into your waist. You could still taste his nerves on your tongue, feel the way his body remained slightly tense, but with each touch of your skin to his he began to loosen.
He bloomed for you right there on that balcony with the moon as your only witness.
Hot tears slipped down your cheeks, the sunlight spilling back into your vision as you finally opened your eyes again. Sunset melted into dusk, the soft hues of blue and purple streaking across the sky. Until you could see the moon begin to rise in the east. A glimmer of the man that once held your heart in his.
The creak of the roof door echoed behind you. Probably another tenet coming to admire the view. You gathered your mug, wiped the flow of tears that refused to stop, and moved to give them the space. You’d seen enough of the moon for one night. There was no reason you had to stick around to pick out hopeless stars and lost dreams. That would remain in the past with the rest of your memories.
“What are you wishing for tonight love?”
The breath caught in your throat, eyes wide as you whirled around to face what you assumed would be a figment of your imagination—a cruel trick of your mind. Yet there he stood. Wearing different clothes, and holding a different demeanor, but you’d recognize him anywhere.
You smiled slightly, your fingers tightening around the mug. “You tell me.”
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Let's Get Out Of Here
Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: M •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •
Summary: You've met your Dad's best friend before.
🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜
A/N: This one was so difficult.
Warnings: Implied sexy times, Reader has a sort of family backstory, Reader's Dad had Reader very young, Reader has a good relationship with their Dad, Jake being a flirt, swearing, overuse of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!
Word Count: 776
“And this is Jake.”
Your smile freezes on your face as your Dad gestures to his aforementioned best friend. If it wasn’t for the grounding warmth of his hand on your arm you were sure you would have had an out of body experience.
Him.
Oh fuck.
How could it be him?
“Nice to finally meet you Jake.” You nod and shake his hand when he holds his out to you.
“Likewise.” His own smile is polite, tailored to a mask of neutrality that you can see through. He’s shitting himself just as much as you are.
Your Dad laughs, thankfully oblivious to the sudden tension in air. “I’m glad you two could finally meet.”
If it wasn’t for social norms you’d turn on your heels and just march right out of there. Maybe you could hide somewhere in the crowd.
Your Father and Step-Mother were renewing their vows, and were throwing an ‘engagement’ party of sorts.
They’d long ago moved out of the town you’d grown up in, as had you and sadly your new home was further away from them than you’d have liked. So you didn’t get to see them in person as much as you wanted to.
Jake had met your Dad about four years ago, the two becoming fast friends. From what your Dad had told you Jake travelled a lot, but when they did meet up they always got on like a house on fire. He was, as well, a little camera shy. Covering his face or ducking out of the way in group photos, so the most you’d ever seen of him was the arm of his leather jacket, a blurred cap, or the scruff of curls poking just into frame.
It had become a running joke that this ‘Jake’ was either imaginary, or a spy.
Your Dad had had you young, an accident that he always called ‘his greatest achievement’. Despite his youth and the barely sixteen years between you, he had been and was a wonderful father.
Someone calls your Dad’s name and he excuses himself quickly, darting off before you even have a chance to protest.
You look after him forlornly, your shoulders slumping.
Maybe running away wasn’t such a break of social norms.
“Hi.” Jake says softly, having taken a step closer.
You turn back to him. He’s shoved his hands in his pocket, looking down before giving you an uncertain smile.
You return the gesture.
“I’m so sorry-” You blurt out.
“I didn’t know you-” He starts at the same time.
You both laugh.
“What are the odds?” He says with a shrug.
“Well, I guess a fondness for you runs in the family?”
Jake pulls a face and you laugh.
“Don’t say that.” He grins.
You try and fail to hide your smile. “Sorry.”
He shakes his head. “Maybe… if I’d told you my name?”
“Well,” you shift your weight, relaxing a little. “I didn’t tell you mine either.”
“We were a little preoccupied.”
“Hmm.” You nod and close your eyes for a second to let the wave of embarrassment pass. “The first time yeah… but I think by the sixth we probably should have.”
He laughs again. It’s a musical sound, deep and rich. Calming in its certainty. “What did you save my number as?”
Heat burns a little under your skin. “Pretty guy.”
“Pretty guy?” His eyebrows raise, but not in upset, just surprise.
“Yeah, well,” you pull a face. “You’re pretty and a guy, so…”
He puffs his chest out a little, leaning a fraction closer. “You think I’m pretty.” He teases.
You give him a sincere look. “I think you’re beautiful.”
The honesty gives him pause for just a beat before he quickly recovers. “Says you.”
“Says me?”
“Yeah, says you. You’re stunning.” He lightly touches your forearm, his fingertips just ghosting over your skin.
You swallow, trying not to get lost in his eyes. “Shut up. What do you have me saved as then?”
He grins, not breaking eye contact for a moment before he pulls out his phone and shows you your contact information. There’s a single red heart emoji listed as your name.
“I didn’t take you as a romantic.” You tease.
He chuckles, leaning close and whispering in your ear. “Haven’t been treating you right then, have I?” He softly brushes the tip of his nose along your ear and you shiver. “Let me show you just how romantic I can be?”
He leans back just enough for you to see his expression, the question in his dark eyes as he nods his head towards the venue doors.
You grin. “Let’s get out of here.”
____________________________________________
Thank you for reading!
@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood
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me when the fictional male character is a bit of an awkward loser
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when you have this amazing story in your head and you see it and know it to be beautiful so you try to write it and it comes out just, wrong. Yeah.
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I noticed something about my writing style, not sure if anyone else can relate, but like:
“Insert hero talking here” he said, with a smile on his face “Hero continues talking”
And then I also be like:
“Insert villain talking here” his piercing voice echoed through the room, as he walked in closer and closer, that same toothy grin still stretching on his features, dripping with a sadistic thrill “Insert villain talking some more, probably like a whole freaking speech because I can’t make them shut up”
Yall know what I mean? It’s not like I’m playing favorites 😭
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sometimes you just gotta grab your character by the throat and have them say something ooc in order to progress the plot
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Me for most a chapter:
*Writing go brrr*
Me when finishing it:
*Old computer error noises or something idk*
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It's fun because it's real: the ideas I give are better structured than what I write in the documents to put together the story.
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Perfectionism is hell. Eveytime my sentences isnt the perfect line ever written my brain thinks i is the foulest thing on the earth. It only worsens when I see good writing by a writer who is probably thinking the same thing about their writing.
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Free Therapy for Writers?
Yeah, sometimes I do that and it's pleasing. Definitely a free therapy for many writers.
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