#word count: 500 to 1k.

[nymfaia-archive]

“Cid.”

After all the time spent at his side, Alta did not need for him to speak or turn to face her to know she had his attention. It was in the shuffle of his boots, in the stall of his fingers against the touch screen ahead of him, head turning just enough to lend her an ear.

The Warrior of Light licked her lips, gazing upward. For a moment, she allowed herself to be distracted, if just to quell the uncertainty brewing in her stomach: schematics filled the screen in bright blue and white. Even the Echo was unable to translate engineering shorthand. The only thing that stuck out to her was the file’s name above it all, in a no-nonsense Eorzean font: BONANZA v1.3.

“I - …”

Alta stepped forward. Her eyes did not leave the projected blueprints. “You - … asked me if there was anything you … could do. For me. After Omega. -- and I … have a request.”

“A favor? From the Warrior of Light?”

The schematics abruptly disappeared with a swipe of his bare hand against the screen. Her words had taken him by surprise, the topic seemingly serious enough for the man to devote his full attention to her. Cid leaned back against the computers, crossing his arms as she decidedly avoided his gaze.

“Anything,” he promised. “You’ve done far too much for the Ironworks, and it’s high time you found something you wanted. What can I do for you, Alta?”

Silence lulled between them, confidence coming to her like waves to shore. She looked down from the blank screen to meet his gaze, drawing in a deep breath.

“I - … want a gunblade made.”

“Nero is usually the one engineering weapons,” he hummed, “he made your staff, after all. But you came to me… because you don’t want him to know, I take it?”

“Please.”

Cid couldn’t help the bark of laughter that bubbled forth, shaking his head. There was still a sense of unease on the au ra’s face, eyebrows knitted firmly and her face paint gently cracking from the movement. A weapon without Nero’s involvement… he had accommodated stanger requests from others. Accessing the man’s design files could be done, especially since Nero had chosen to lighten his coffers and flee. It would be trying to keep his nose out of why Garlond was constructing a gunblade that would prove difficult.

Well, Cid thought, if he wanted to know, he would have to make it back to the workshop.

“Easily done, my friend.” He turned back to his computer, fingers tapping away as he began the tedious task of delving through Nero’s haphazardly organized filing. “... However, I hope you are aware that nothing we construct here would rival Heirsbane. Baelsar’s weapon is one of a kind, and I doubt he would replace it for anything we could make.”

The silence was so abrupt between them that he could even hear Jessie shouting down the hall, and Biggs grumbling in return. He wondered, belatedly, if she had simply left already, faced with the truths he had gathered. But then she spoke from behind him.

“...It isn’t for him,” Alta replied. “It’s for me.”

And his office door closed behind her.

“That certainly changes things,” he mused aloud. The size of the weapon, for one; the fact that she was far more involved with the ex-legatus than he had ever theorized, for two. For but a moment, Cid stared up at the Scaevan schematics for a gunblade, one of the dozen different weapons he had conjured up, and tried to imagine the little Warrior of Light using one man’s designs as she fought alongside another.

If Nero wasn’t aghast by the concept of Cid building his designs in his absence, he would damn near destroy the thing himself if had even an inkling why it was being built.

No. He would make something new for her. Something from the parts left behind by Omega, perhaps…

.

Alta never knew she would miss the confines of her Rising Stones room. Her youth was spent on the Steppe, where nothing but the ground was hers to call home. The Hotgo shifted their tents as frequently as the moon turned in the sky, it seemed; where she rested her head at night meant little as long as she was among those she found comfort in.

Maybe she didn’t miss the space, she thought, but what it meant… but she was lying. She knew she was the moment she swung the door open and the scent of fresh laundry and parchment wafted out. The soft dolls of her companions sat in the window as she remembered; her desk had been dusted and cleaned, but multiple letters and little packages sat, delivered but untouched, on the surface.

She had mindlessly stood her stave up in the corner, turning to kick her sandals off, when a larger package caught her attention. It laid atop her bed, the weight of it digging into the blankets, not cased in paper packaging but a blackened metal case.

It was with a hint of trepidation that she approached. She recognized the Ironworks logo, raised and glossy on the lid, and fumbled with the latches. When it opened, Alta abruptly remembered why it was there in the first place.

In all her time on the First, her request had gone entirely forgotten, an unimportant relic of what felt like years ago. At one time, she had been hopeful to simply get to learn and grow, and now - …

A bittersweet twist came to her lips as she ran her fingers over the cold metal body of her new gunblade. Now she would have to learn and grow, if she were to be useful sooner rather than later. But for now, it could be later: Alta closed the lid, climbing onto her bed behind it and simply enjoying the familiarity of Tataru’s handmade quilt against her skin.

Or she had intended to. A slip of yellow paper caught her gaze, recently bent, as if it had fallen off the lid of her gunblade when she opened it. She pulled it toward her, a pit forming in her stomach at the sight of a certain engineer’s strict, square handwriting.

DON’T MENTION IT, CHAMPION.

Alta crumpled Nero’s note in her hand, giving it a halfhearted throw across the room, and buried her face into her pillow.

Some things she did not miss from her time away.

[superfluouskeys]

torn between setting a low goal or a high goal for camp nano 🤔

[queen-scribbles]

Me writing for a newish fandom where I’m still getting the hang of the lore: Struggles to hit 1k words, takes 1-2 weeks to get there

Me writing for a fandom I’ve been in for 10+ years and know the characters almost better than my irl friends/family: hahahaha this is almost 2k words and NOT DONE YET in 1-3 days, largely constrained by available writing time

[bklynsboys]

The Theory on Other Halves

pairing: spencer reid x reader summary: "there's an old buddhist saying, i once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making." genre: fluff word count: 1k author's notes: i wrote this because this particular line of spencer's is one of my absolute favorites! i think it's really beautiful how all of the people we love were meant to be in our lives since 500 years ago. and of course, as a fan of space & constellations, i had to insert it into this fic. enjoy <3

THE AIR HUNG HEAVY WITH THE AFTERMATH OF A PARTICULARLY BRUTAL CASE—TYPICAL FOR A DAY IN THE BAU. Dust specks danced in the pale slivers of moonlight filtering through the blinds. Hotch decided it'd be best to give the team a few hours to rest in the motel before heading back home. If it were up to you, you'd be back in your bed as soon as humanly possible, but rooming with the resident genius, Dr. Spencer Reid—the object of your unspoken affections—is an opportunity you wouldn't miss.

For months, the two of you have shared a silent dance of exchanged glances and shared interests. Your colleagues, particularly the girls whom you confided in, seemed to think it was mutual. Now, you sat across from each other on motel beds, a comfortable silence blanketing the room. You traced a thoughtful finger along the rim of your empty coffee cup.

"You have a constellation," he said softly, breaking the stillness.

Your gaze flicked to Spencer, then down to your arm where his hand had landed. A faint scattering of moles dotted the inside of your forearm, resembling a modicum of stars. A small smile tugged at your lips.

"Looks like Ursa Major," he mused, tracing the pattern with his finger. "Though perhaps a little worse for wear, and without the usual bright light, of course."

You chuckled, mirroring his action on your arm. There, nestled just below your elbow, was a crescent moon birthmark, a surprise you always enjoyed revealing.

"Here's another one," you offered.

He turned his hand, examining the crescent with a childlike curiosity. " It's beautiful," he said simply.

"Did you know," Spencer added softly, his voice barely a murmur, "that the ancient Greek saw Ursa Major as a bear?"

You tilted your head, surprised by the random fact. " A bear?"

A smile played on his lip. " Apparently, the constellation's asterism resembled the animal to them. Makes you wonder what they saw in the night sky that we don't."

"Well, my mom had a different take on that," you began, a fond memory surfacing. " She used to say my moon and stars meant I'd meet a space nerd someday who'd love these marks, and we'd be orbiting each other, kind of like the Earth and the sun. She was into soulmates, you see, and space."

The conversation flowed easily, a map of your bodies sketched through shared stories. You pointed to a jagged scar on your knee, the fading memory of you running around and ending up with a scrape on your knee. He, in turn, showed you the faint line on his palm, a souvenir from a particularly enthusiastic attempt at a science experiment as a child.

Your fingers trailed down the faint scar near his hairline, so faint one wouldn't notice it if they weren't looking at Spencer's face intently. "What's this from?" you asked gently.

Spencer chuckled. " You know, how I have really bad coordination?" He sighed. " I was lost in a book, I ran straight into a doorpost. My mom called me 'Crash' after that."

You squeezed his hand gently, a silent understanding passing between you. You knew how much Spencer cherished his mom, especially with her health declining. Sharing stories about her felt like a tender offering of his vulnerability.

He returned the gesture, his thumb tracing the faint outline of a mango-shaped birthmark on your back. " My mom swears it's from all the mangoes she craved while pregnant," you said with a laugh, remembering your childhood debates about the science behind birthmarks.

As the night wore on, your exploration became a conversation without words. You ended up curled up on one bed. You ran your fingers over the slight dip in his lower back, a lingering ache from a wrestling match between an unsub gone wrong. He skimmed his thumb across the freckle dusting your shoulder, a map of sun-drenched summer days.

There was no urgency, no pressure. Just a quiet appreciation for the way your bodies, like your minds, fit together, like puzzle pieces worn from being fitted together—entangled from experiences, both big and small. In the faint intimacy, you found a deeper connection, a comfort that transcended beyond just physical.

Suddenly, Spencer spoke, his voice soft. " Maybe your mom was right, you know."

"Right about what?" You murmured, head tilting at the man's question.

His gaze met yours, a thoughtful crease furrowing his brow. " About finding your soulmate," he said hesitantly. " There's an old Buddhist saying, I once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making."

A thoughtful hum escaped your lips. " That's beautiful, Spencer," you whispered.

He continued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "Plato once wrote humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces, but Zeus split us in half as a punishment for our pride, and we were destined to walk the Earth searching for our other half."

A soft blush crept up your neck. You hadn't expected such a personal turn in the conversation.

"Plato," you murmured, surprised." The one who wasn't a big fan of the soulmate idea, right?"

Spencer's lips curved into a small smile.

"True," he admitted. "But even a brilliant mind like his couldn't deny the undeniable pull we sometimes feel towards certain people. Maybe the Greeks weren't so far off . Maybe the stars, the constellations, these little imperfections on our skin... Maybe they all tell us a story of where we belong."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. You found yourself captivated by the way the moonlight glinted in his eyes.

"So," you finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper, "are you saying we're destined to be wandering halves searching for the other?"

Spencer shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "No," he said, his voice a smooth cadence. " Maybe... Maybe we already found each other."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken sentiments. The air crackled with a tension that both terrified and exhilarated you. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat to the quiet reverberation of the night. Curled beside him, Spencer's arm draped casually across you, its weight a comforting presence, you drifted off to sleep.

A faint smile touched Spencer's lips as he listened to your soft snores. "Good night," he whispered into the darkness.

[daycourtofficial]

Come back, be here

Azriel x reader

Summary: It’s the anniversary of your mating bond ceremony and despite his reassurances, Azriel is nowhere to be seen.

Author’s note: this is the end of my 1k celebration and ironically the first fic I finished for this week. I hope you guys enjoyed reading these fics as much as I enjoyed writing them

Word count: 2k

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Every second you sat in your kitchen felt like an eternity, the fabric of the dress you’re wearing growing heavier with each tick of the clock.

You had bought the clock for your mate for your mating anniversary years ago. A rare antique that you knew he would love - thousands of years old, and you got it for an absurdly low price due to the condition it was in.

You spent months with a restoration expert, cleaning the clock, repairing pieces as you dismantled it. It was a labor of love, one you thought Azriel was deserving of.

The months spent restoring it were nothing compared to the time you’ve been sitting here.

Now you sit, practically taunted by its song. Tonight was supposed to be about the two of you. Objectively five years in a mateship isn’t a long time, a blip in the lives of fae, and yet the both of you were looking forward to the evening.

Despite his intimidating demeanor, Azriel was meticulous about celebrating your anniversaries, oftentimes mentioning an event you didn’t realize he knew the date of. You imagined he had an internal index of the days you two spent together.

“I waited five hundred years to meet you,” he had told you when he wanted to take you out to celebrate the anniversary of your first date, “I want to remember everything we do together. I want to celebrate us every day that I can.”

His words were incredibly sweet, but sitting in the cold kitchen, the tempting aromas of the meal you made long gone, you wonder just how much of it was words.

He waited 500 years for you, and you waited several hours before packing up the dinner you had made for him, tears running down your face as you packaged it all up.

Perhaps his overeager celebration of anniversaries led to the intensity of the sting you feel deep in your chest.

The clock chimes twelve times - he’s four hours late and your anniversary is officially over. You have no indication from the bond what he’s doing, it’s golden hum having gone silent hours ago.

You blow out the candles littering the house, taking off the ridiculous party hat you were wearing and throwing it on the ground.

It feels silly, the brightly colored hat with a pompon on top. It’s bright demeanor heavily contrasting the loneliness you feel inside. You sigh, looking around the downstairs of your home, deciding to leave the rose petals you had scattered so perhaps he’ll feel at least a little guilty when he came home.

Whenever that would be.

Trudging up the stairs, each step growing heavier, you wonder what could have kept him away. Rhys certainly wouldn’t have asked him to go away - Azriel had mentioned earlier in the week he’d be unavailable for a few days to celebrate.

Besides, Rhys knew how anal Azriel was about your anniversaries, and Feyre would chew him out if he forced Azriel to do anything on a day as important as your mating ceremony anniversary.

He had left this morning, promising you he’d be home at 8 because he had some tasks to do. You knew he was going to help one of your neighbors with a fallen tree, something that had to be done as soon as possible.

You move silently, going through your nightly ritual, an early end to the night you didn’t see coming. You pull back the covers on your bed, slipping into its cold grasp, ready to cry yourself to sleep, when you hear the door open downstairs.

You can hear Azriel moving through the house, a swiftness to his step as you hear him climbing the stairs quickly, taking them two at a time.

You make your way to your shared bedroom door, that you had locked upon entering, and lean against it, unsure if you’re ready for his excuses.

He tries the handle, then begins knocking.

“Baby, baby please be awake.” He pauses for a moment, listening. “I’m so sorry, baby please I know you’re awake I can hear you breathing.”

One of his shadows snakes underneath your door, checking you over to see how you are. It lingers on your cheeks, tear tracks still fresh. The shadow doesn’t return to it’s master, instead opting to stay with you, providing you company.

“Please, baby, I lost track of time. I was working on a surprise for you and I fell asleep. Baby I’m-“

You push off the door and turn to crack open the door, taking in the sight of your mate. Despite your annoyance, the bond made it practically impossible to want to avoid him. Every piece of you begged to be near him, to open the door further letting him in.

“You were working on a surprise?” Your voice cracks from all the crying, and he doesn’t mention how his heart cracks in response.

He nods gently, his hair sticking up everywhere from his hands having ran through it, and likely also from the flight home.

You’re still upset, but the frost you feel starts thawing. You can make him grovel a bit, and you’re about to open the door more, when the smell hits you.

Elain.

He showed up late to your date for your mating anniversary with some lame excuse about falling asleep because he had spent the day with Elain.

Elain, who was mated to Lucien, but made her affections for your mate abundantly clear before your mateship. As far as you had known, Azriel had shut down her affections when the bond snapped for you both, but now you’re reconsidering everything that you know.

Had they been sneaking around? Is this the first time? Does Lucien know?

The questions swirl in your mind, and Azriel puts his foot in the door begore you can slam it on him, your emotions swirling inside of his chest.

“Baby-“

“You spent the day with Elain?” You spat, “you were late because of Elain? You reek of her, Az!”

You push against the door, trying to shut him out, but he doesn’t budge, he won’t pull his foot out of the way, no matter how much it hurts.

“Baby, no let me explain-“

You laugh, “what’s there to explain? You are covered in her scent.”

The tears start pouring again, and the shadow starts wiping them up, more of them coming through the door to console you.

He starts panicking. Things with Elain have been great the past few years - her distance from Azriel allowing any lingering feelings of lust or awkwardness to dissipate, allowing the two of them to have a cordial friendship. Despite this, he was aware of how insecure you were around her.

You could never grasp why he’d want to be with you when he could have been with her.

Panic laces his tone as he tells you, “baby, no, I went to Elain’s to bake you a cake! We’ve been working all week on a recipe for you!”

You stop pushing so hard against the door, your movements stilling. An invitation for him to continue talking, but to stay where he was and not try to come in further.

“We spent the day baking you a cake. I laid down on her couch, and you know how damning that thing is. Lucien was there all day. I fell asleep waiting for the cake to cool so I could frost it. They must have left because-“

He pauses, his words rushing from his mouth, afraid you’d shut him out before they made their way to you. “I-they had me promise not to tell anyone, but Elain’s pregnant and they left for an appointment with Madja. They got back not too long ago, waking me up. I came straight here, forgetting the cake and your gifts.”

You lift your eyes to look at him for the first time and you know he’s telling you the truth.

“Gifts? Plural?”

A laugh breaks out from him, your obvious attempt to diffuse the situation. He pushes his hair back with a hand, and you finally take in how messy it was. He clearly had rushed over here, if it’s wind-blown look was anything to go off of. “I got you these incredible books that I spent ages tracking down. I was in Day earlier this week to pick them up.”

You perk up at that, “but you hate going to Day alone because Helion begs you to-“

“Then I had to stop by the jeweler’s.”

You perk up at that, your love of jewelry rivaling Amren’s.

“The jeweler’s?”

He smiles faintly, hoping he’s slowly convincing you to let him in.

“I had Winston take part of one of my siphons to make you a necklace.”

You still at that.

“Your- your siphon?”

He smiles softly, “yeah, I’ve been talking with him for years on how to best remove a piece to make you a matching necklace.”

You narrow your eyes, “years?”

“Yes, my love. We’ve gone through probably dozens of unused syphons to figure out the best method, he finally figured it out a few months ago.”

His hand taps his chest, where one of his siphons usually sits.

“I had a bit chiseled off of the one that stays on my chest.”

Your resolve crumbles, seinging open the door and launching yourself into his arms. He holds you tightly, and the two of you just stand there, enjoying the embrace.

The clock chines downstairs, but this time it’s tune is one of love, not dread.

You smelled him again, and as prominent as Elain’s scent was, you also picked up strong hints of Lucien and a soft, delicate scent.

“So nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened. And nothing ever will happen.”

Your eyes are lined with tears, pulling back from him, you place your hands on his face, bringing his face level with yours.

“If anything did happen, or ever happens, I’ll skin you alive.”

“My love, I think if I were to ever do anything to break your heart, Nesta would put my heart on a platter.”

You giggle, and he hums out, “actually I’m not sure who’d get to me first - Cassian or Nesta.”

Your soft giggles soothe the erratic beating of Azriel’s heart, “Gwyn and Emerie might take a chunk out too.”

He pushes the strands of hair away from your face, guiding the two of you further into the toom so he can shut the door.

“Let’s assume that if I did anything to hurt you, there would be a long line of fae coming to hunt me down.”

He kisses you, quickly pecking your lips several times as he guided you backwards until your knees hit your bed.

“However I did leave my mate all alone on our anniversary.”

He crawls on top of you, kissing your neck as you close your eyes at the contact, “and I am very good at groveling.”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

accused (part two)

words: 1k

warnings: established relationship, accusations of stealing, protective!rafe (hes such a good boyfriend <3)

followed (part one) / accused (part two)

“hi.” you smile, cheeks slightly blushed.

“hello, beautiful.” rafe doesn't give you time to be nervous, pulling you into a hug.

you relax into his hold, taking a deep inhale and exhale as your cheek rests against his chest, remembering the solace you found in his arms when you needed it most.

“excited?” rafe asks.

“we are just getting ice cream together.” you giggle.

“yeah, sure.” rafe joins in your laughter, loving the way it sounds in his ears. “but it's an ice cream date.”

“does that mean you're gonna kiss me goodnight?” you look at the rapidly setting sun. 

“of course.” rafe loops your hands together, guiding you towards the line to order.

-- 6 months later --

“missed you.” you wrap your arms around rafes shoulders, pulling him down into a strong kiss.

“missed you too, baby.” rafe doesn't point out that it's only been a couple days, having to spend the weekend apart as you were out of town with your parents.

“what are your plans?” rafe asks, hands gently massaging up and down your back.

“hanging out with you all day-”

“and night.” rafe interrupts you, smirking.

“anyways, then shopping with the girls tomorrow. we might also go out for dinner.” you shrug.

“sounds fun.” rafe nods. “just staying on the island though, right?” rafe knows you usually like to go inland or up the coast to shop, but that's usually a longer planned trip.

“mhm. just gonna hit all those little boutiques.” you shake your head, “but i dont wanna talk about tomorrows plans.”

“what do you wanna talk about then, sweetheart?” rafe asks.

“don't wanna talk.” you admit shyly. “just wanna kiss you.”

rafe bends down, lifting you up with large hands under his thighs, rushing up the stairs. “we can definitely do that, baby.

--

“that looks so cute on you!” you squeal, grabbing your friend giannas hand and pulling her over to the mirror.

“i love it!” she gushes before checking the pricetag. “only $85, im absolutely buying it.”

“oh, girl that's a steal!” you nod. 

“it's not like you don't have rafes credit card.” tina rolls her eyes, but there's a smile on her face to convey she's not serious.

“he says to buy whatever i want, as long as i give him a fashion show when i get home.” you say as gianna heads back into the changing room to get back into her clothes.

you pull out your phone to text rafe an update as tina does the same to her boyfriend.

hey rafeyyy miss you! shopping is going so well 💕 I think we're gonna hit up like two or three more stores and then ill be home!

alright, princess. have fun. see you real soon ❤️

“can i take some of the dresses?” the voice makes you jump, not even realizing that the shop owner was standing in front of gianna, hand outstretched.

“uh, yeah.” she hands over two of the hangers. “im not getting these two.”

the owner makes a disgruntled face, looking over the other two dresses gianna is still holding. “where's the other dress?”

“what dress?” you interject.

“yeah, she only tried on four.” tina adds.

“well, i saw five go in. you'll have to empty your bag.”

gianna is only wearing a small purse, no way a dress would even fit inside of it, but that's not the point, it's the principle that counts.

“hell no!” you say. “check the security cameras if you want, but we aren't allowing you to search us.”

“really?” the shop keepers eyebrows rise, like she expected you to just bow your head since you're a group of younger girls. “i guess you'll just have to pay for the dress i saw go into the dressing room and didn't come out. its $500.”

you pull out your phone, furiously messaging rafe and sending him your location.

“you messed with the wrong person.” tina shakes her head.

“and here, i don't want these either.” gianna hands the owner the other two dresses, even the one she loved.

“yeah, we will never shop here again.” tina says.

“we don't need thieves like you, anyways!” she grabs the dresses. “just pay for the one you're trying to steal and get out!”

you're sure if she pulled this scam on other people that they'd just get sick of the arguing and pay up, but you're absolutely refusing to play into her little game.

you smile as you hear the door open then slam closed, turning to see rafe with an angry look on his face.

“thank god you're here, rafe. this lady is trying to say we're stealing from her but refuses to watch the security cameras.” you inform him.

“is that so?” rafe looks around the shop. 

“rafe…” the shop keeper mumbles, trying to figure out why she knows the name. “you're rafe cameron?”

“yeah.” he crosses his arms. “like cameron development cameron. you know, the ones who own this entire block? including your landlords?” rafe tsks, shaking his head side to side. “i wonder what my dad would say if he knew you were accosting his son's girlfriend.”

“im-im sorry. i think this is all a big misunderstanding.” the owner quickly quoted, rushing away back to the counter.

“gianna, tina, you girls okay?” rafe asks.

“yeah.” tina twirls her hair around her finger, making you give her a quick glare.

“all good, thanks rafe.” gianna nods.

“lets get you girls out of here.” rafe wraps his arm around your shoulder, leading you out of the shop. 

he presses a kiss to the top of your head once you're outside, leading you a couple steps away from your friends. “want to keep shopping? or are you done?”

“maybe…” you pout your lower lip out and look up at rafe. “maybe you could come with us to the next couple shops?”

rafe can't control the smile that stretches over his cheeks. “id be more than happy to, baby.”

you let out a little squeal, pressing your lips against his cheek. “i hate to say it, but thank god that guy followed me that day. cause i got the best boyfriend ever out of it.”

sfw taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

[byoldervine]

Writing Tip - What ‘Habit Over Motivation’ Actually Looks Like

We’ve all heard the writing advice that you can’t rely on motivation to get you through writing a book, sometimes you need to force yourself to do it and make a habit of it. And a lot of us will scoff at that or find it too restrictive or boring, it leaves us feeling like it’s a chore rather than a fun activity

As someone who only worked out what people actually mean by it recently, let me explain my take on it

You’re not always going to be inspired to write, you’re not always going to be motivated to write, but if you only write when you’re motivated it’s gonna take a crap ton of time - and writing anything to completion already takes donkey’s years as it is. Forming a habit is going to enable you to write consistently, and thus even unmotivated or uninspired progress is still made. Hence, sometimes you have to force yourself to write

But writing too much will make that habit impossible, or at least it becomes a chore and not a fun activity. You need to give yourself realistic goals to meet, even if it’s only something small. Write for ten minutes a day, write 500 words every week, any snail’s pace progress regardless of how insignificant it may seem. Something small enough that it doesn’t drain you but frequent enough that there’s still a habit being formed, there’s still consistency to it

I used to only write when I was inspired and motivated and could get myself to start writing, and even then the word count would be inconsistent. It could be weeks or even months between proper writing sessions. But now that I have a baseline for productivity, I have a baseline for consistent progress. And I’m only on 1K words a week! And if that doesn’t work, you can do less, or go by time spent writing if that’s a better metric for your writing style!

There’s no such thing as not enough progress when it comes to forming a consistent habit; if you can get at least one word per deadline (day, week, whatever) then that still counts as consistent progress

What everyone else seems to think of is “You must get this big amount of words written daily, think of it as eternal NaNoWriMo, if you miss even one day you’re a failure and you’ll never get the book done, SUFFER FOR YOUR ART!”

Just do what’s comfortable and it’ll be fine, no worries

[flokali]

𓂆 | Write for Gaza

. . . . .

𓄷 Note: As a member of the Palestinian diaspora, I feel like this is the least I could do to help my people back in our beloved homeland. After 76 years of silence from the world, please do not look away and do not keep quiet – you can make a difference, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Due to the nature of the blog, I ask that you be at least 18 years old before requesting or interacting.

You can use the following links to pick a fundraiser of your choice to donate to: palestinescharitycomissionassoc, palestinian-fundraising, Hussein’s Masterpost and GazaFunds.

𓄷 Rules:

i. Take the time to read the post carefully and decide if you wish to participate. Pick a fundraiser from the list and make a donation considering the prices mentioned below, you are tasked with calculating the donation cost and what it translates to. For requests, make sure to check if there are slots available as I will only be able to take a small number at a time.

ii. Once you have made a donation to a vetted fundraiser, take a screenshot and blur out any identifiable/private information. The screenshot will be necessary for verification.

iii. Reach out to me via ask or DM with the screenshot of your donation, you can specify what it is you want to either [Sponsor a WIP] or [Make a Request] – slots can be reserved for MaR for up to five business days, please tell me if you wish to remain anonymous or not.

iv. I am not making any money from this, the money is to be donated to a vetted fundraiser directly. I am not an intermediary but serve as an added bonus to donating.

v. Donations made to “Khaled and His Family” will be prioritised.

𓄷 Sponsor a WIP:

𓂃 $1 USD equals to 100-150 words; therefore, 500 words is $5 USD and so on.

𓂃 If you want to ask for smut to be added to a fic (all the included WIP have space for smut) , that’s an additional $10 USD and will be asked for only once; if the “Smut Fee” is paid, the word count will increase by default of 500-1000 words, additional words by the original donator will be added to the $10. If the SF has been paid, it will be noted in the post and won’t be required to be paid for the same WIP again.

[If the SF is paid and the donor wants 1.5k words added, they’ll have to add $5, making the total $15].

𓂃 All WIPs have a goal of a minimum of 3k words, the word count will be updated as well as an estimate for the final count – however, it may increase if necessary.

. . .

𓄷 Make a request:

𓂃 $1 USD equals to 100-150 words; therefore, 500 words is $5 USD and so on.

𓂃 For reactions: each additional character is $0.25 USD (¢25) maximum amount of characters is 6 ($1.25 USD). The first character is not charged.

[A request for three characters and 1k words would total $11 USD ; Example: “How would Kaeya, Diluc and Albedo react to a Reader who is cold?” + “1k words” *A request for a one shot does not have the “Additional Character Fee”]

— Available slots for requests: 1

More information down below;

𓄷 WIP

—#๋࣭. I love you, I Own you ; Part 3

Final part to the “ILYIOY” series, meant to tie up the story and finish telling what happens to Reader’s family, Reader herself, and Childe’s feelings about what he’s done.

Current word count: 600~ words • Estimated word count: 9k words

Sponsored:

—#๋࣭. Deus Vult ; Reworked (Part 1)

A complete rewriting and restructuring of my first fic on the blog, it’ll be longer and more thorough; after almost 2 years on the blog, if not more, I have mulled over the concept many times and wished to redo it and give it a proper setting.

Current word count: 500~ words • Estimated word count: 6-9k words

—#๋࣭. Love Virus

Boothill fic where a pesky USB with a “love code” gets mistakenly used on him, as the doctor/programmer in charge with overseeing this mess – you find yourself the target of his newfound affection.

Current word count: 1,700~ words • Estimated word count: 6k words

Sponsored:

—#๋࣭. 777

You’re one of the last remaining people of your species, now seen as a luxury to be passed around to the highest bidder. In a twist of fate, Aventurine finds himself with the key – or price – to your freedom, although he never fancied himself a hero he doesn’t mind the way you look at him as your saviour.

Current word count: 1200~ words • Estimated word count: 6k word.

Sponsored: NSFW paid + 1k (700 left) words — Remaining 4k~ words ; estimated.

𓄷 Make a Requests :

—#๋࣭. I will write: yandere, non/dub con, most kinks, death, cnc, gore, cheating, peggings, dom/sub, etc. We can discuss more through message but I’m not open to debating on anything that is specified below;

—#๋࣭. I won’t write: Underage characters, bodily fluids (mainly piss nd scat), cxc, necrophilia, beastiality, unhygienic, vore, ddlg, etc.

. . .

—#๋࣭. Fandoms: Genshin Impact, Star Rail, DoL, Spy x Family, Tears of Themis, Enstars, Love and Deepspace, Wuthering Heights, Twisted Wonderland, Persona 5, Fire Emblem 3 Houses, Ikemen Villains, Identity V, A Date with Death, Chainsaw Man, Haikyuu!!, and What in Hell is bad?

* I’ll also accept unique OC’s made just for the request that you will be able to request for again in the future.

[cozage]

FLUFF! SWEET! ADORABLE! Fem S/O x Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Ace, and Law hcs! Feeling lonely whenever their lover is busy, S/O sewed together a plushie version of her lover to keep her busy and confess secrets to her plushie like she was the one who are the last cake piece or something! And their lover has been feeling lonely bc S/O hasn’t been hanging with them that much!

A/N: :) this was so cute to make. I hope I had the right idea &lt;3

Characters: F! reader x Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Ace, Law

Cw: just some fluff for your soul :) maybe a few brief moments of angst/sadness, but it's all happy endings, alcohol/drunk mention in Ace’s

Total word count: 4k (about 600-1k for each person)

A Plushie Substitute

Zoro

You hadn’t seen Zoro in a few hours, which wasn’t uncommon. He had been training extra hard here recently, and that resulted in you seeing your boyfriend even less than you normally did. You tried not to be too upset with the circumstances; you knew Zoro’s dream was to become the greatest swordsman in the world, and you would never get in the way of that. So instead, you created a small green-headed plushie with only one eye to take his place when you needed him while he was busy. You whispered your crew gossip to him that you got from Nami, and humorously found that the plushie Zoro spoke about as much as the real Zoro when you relayed the ship drama to him.

--

Zoro had done 1,000 push ups, 500 crunches, and 200 dumbbell squats. He had trained in all of the sword handling positions with his three swords and with weighted barbells until he had perfected each stance. He had worked all morning and all afternoon without stopping, and now all he wanted to do was see you. He wanted to sit in silence while you chatted about your day and filled him in on everything he had missed while he was training. A piece of him had hoped you would come up and interrupt his workout at some point, even if you just quietly existed together, but you hadn’t. So he set off to find you. 

--

Zoro eyed around the ship, looking for you in your normal spots on the deck. “Oi, Nami,” he called to the navigator. “Do you know where y/n is?”

Nami glared at Zoro for a moment, and then rolled her eyes. “I saw her on the stern a few minutes ago, staring off into the sea. Might wanna check on her.”

He walked to the rear of the boat, keeping his eye out for you. He found you sitting on the railing staring out to sea, just like Nami said. You appeared to be mumbling softly to someone, but he didn’t see anyone around you who you could be talking to. 

As he approached, you could hear someone coming up behind you, and you stopped speaking to plushie Zoro and quickly tucked him safely away. 

Zoro came over, easily hoisting himself up over the railing to sit next to you. He wrapped his arm around you to hold your waist, and you leaned into him, resting your head against his muscular chest. He pulled you closer into him, chuckling softly. He always loved when you snuggled up into him, and you loved being so close to him in simple ways.

You remained quiet, enjoying the silence with him. He looked over at you curiously, waiting for you to start talking about your day like normal, but you didn’t speak up. Finally he decided to prompt you, wanting to hear your voice. “How was your day?”

“It was good! I hung out with Nami on the deck for a bit.” You attempt to keep your recap of the day brief, not wanting to bother him with all of the boring details. You had already gotten all of the chattiness and gossip out of your system by talking to his plushie replacement. 

Zoro waits for you to expand, but you don’t, and he starts to grow concerned over your lack of conversation. He thought about how he heard you earlier when he approached, talking and laughing to some unseen person. He squeezed you lightly in an attempt to comfort you, though he wasn’t sure what he was comforting you from. “You okay? Who were you chatting with earlier when I arrived?”

You blush. “I’m okay. I was just talking to…well, you.” You pause, and you see a confused look pass over Zoro’s face. You reluctantly pull out the plushie you’ve created and show your boyfriend. You expect him to laugh at you or make some kind of joke, but he just silently takes the plushie from your hand and examines it for a few minutes. 

“You made this?” He finally asks. You simply nod in response. 

“It looks just like me. It even has a little haramaki and a bandana like mine.” He pauses for a moment to kiss your temple. “This looks really great. But why did you make it?”

Your eyes stay fixed on the plushie. “I just didn’t want to interrupt your workouts, and I know you don’t care much for the drama that I usually tell you about. I created him to help with that. That way I can still tell someone and you don’t have to listen to all my annoying rambling and-”

“Your rambling is not annoying,” Zoro says, cutting you off. “I like your voice. And I like your presence.” He hands the plushie back to you. “Keep this guy of course, but you can always talk to me about anything you want to, and you’re always welcome in the crow’s nest when I’m training. Actually, you should come up tomorrow. I can use you for some new workouts I’d like to try.”

You laugh at that sentiment, but you don’t continue the conversation anymore. You all stay quiet for a while before the moss-haired man speaks up again. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

His cheeks are tinted as you look his way. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me. I’m not always a good talker, but I do always listen to you.”

“No, Zoro. It’s not that at all! I just…I just thought you weren’t interested, and I didn’t want to bother you with the silly stuff.”

“You can bother me now, if you’d like.”

And so you all sit on the railing, watching the sun sink into the sea. You talk, he listens, and all is right with the world. 

Luffy

It had been a long time since you had joined Luffy on an island adventure. He was always the type to run off and find trouble before the Sunny had even docked, whereas you preferred to take your time and do a check before you ventured to a new island. You didn’t mind the distance you two usually had on an island, but you did miss sharing an adventure with your boyfriend. Still, you refused to complain or stand in the way of his adventure, so you created a smaller version of him, working on as many small details as you could to make him as realistic as possible. And when you finished, you secured him onto your backpack, ready to set out on an adventure with a version of him. 

--

Luffy had been wandering around for several hours now, looking for something to do. There were small adventures he had found, like herding a farmer’s cattle and exploring some random caves. He even found giant holes in the ground with random artifacts and cool shining crystals, but he didn’t have much use for any of those things, and found it all relatively boring. This island was mostly safe, unfortunately for him, and now he just wanted to find you and try to explore more or head off to the next island.

--

“Oh, cool!” You hear Luffy behind you, rapidly approaching. You brace yourself just in time, and you feel the strawhat man crash into you from behind. His momentum sends you both tumbling into the dirt. 

“Luuuuufffffyyyy!” You’re now face down against the ground and Luffy is sitting on top of you, looking at your backpack with a deep interest. He seems to be completely unaware of the chaos his entrance just caused, or that you are struggling underneath him to get up. 

“Oh man, this is so cool! It’s like a mini-me! The straw hat and the scars and even the sandals! It’s perfect!” He bends down to meet your face and grins. “Hey, y/n! Who made this? I want one of you too!”

You sigh, giving up hope of getting up anytime soon, and answer his question. “I made it, Luffy.”

“No way! It looks amazing! I knew you could make stuff, but I had no idea you were this talented. Can you make me one of you too? So we can match!” His eyes glisten with hope as he’s turning the little doll over in his fingers, examining the details you managed to incorporate. 

“Sure, Luffy.” You’re being short with him, and he’s finally starting to notice. 

His eyes break away from the doll and finally look at you. “Hm? You okay? Do you need me to get up?”

“No, Luffy. It’s fine. I just made Mini-Luffy and clipped him onto my backpack so we could keep going on adventures together.”

“But we always go on adventures,” He questions. “We’re on one right now, aren’t we?”

“I know, but we’re usually split up during the whole thing. And I just, I don’t know…” You had promised yourself you wouldn’t get mad at Luffy for being a captain, for wanting adventure, but you realize now it really did hurt to be separated from him during important moments. “I don’t want to be left behind.”

Luffy gets off your back and stands, silently reaching out a hand to help you to your feet. He readjusts his hat to hide his face, and then takes your hand. “I’m sorry, y/n,” and you can hear the shame in his voice. “I won’t leave you ever again.”

You laugh at that, and you feel a little better now that you’ve gotten that fear off your chest. “Don’t be silly, Luffy.” You give him a peck on his cheek, right under his scar. “I’m not asking you to do that. Just maybe in the future when you slingshot to an island, take me with you every now and then, okay?”

He grins his classic, wide smile,and he nods. “Deal!”

Relief rushes through you, and you relax a bit. Now that you’ve talked to him about your worries, you want to know what his adventures have been on this island. “So, what did you find here? Anything interesting?”

He talks your ear off the whole way back to the ship, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. When you get back, you start working on a plushie look-alike of you for Luffy, and hand it to him a few days later. He loops it around his belt, grinning widely. “Now we’ll never be apart!”

When the next island appears, he slingshots away without you, but you choose to laugh at his hastiness to get to the island. It doesn’t bother you as much now, now that you’ve talked to him about it. But he quickly returns, wraps a rubber arm around you, and takes off again, laughing the whole way. “Almost forgot, but I’ll always come back for you!”

Sanji

Sanji had been gone for a while now, beckoned away again by your hungry captain. It had probably been the tenth time today that he had gotten up to make food for someone on the ship, but that was the duty that came along with the title of being the Sunny’s chef. You were normally pretty good about being on your own while Sanji had to work, but today you wanted to be around him. You went to your room to find some scrap cloth to piece together a Sanji stand-in for the time being.

--

The stove was still hot as Sanji cleaned up from Luffy’s eleventh meal of the day. He wasn’t sure if it was the calm ocean that made Luffy so restless and hungry, but Sanji was starting to get nervous about food rations. He never minded cooking for people of course, but it felt like he was spending more time cooking for his captain than he was spending time with you. He wanted nothing more than to run out to you and cover you in a shower of kisses to make up for lost time, but he knew he couldn’t leave the kitchen such a mess. While he cleaned up, he whipped up your favorite drink and snacks to bring out to you, excited to see your face again. 

--

Sanji strode towards you, thrilled to see you still sunning on the deck in your bathing suit. He had already taken Nami and Robin their own snacks, and left out other snacks for the boys if they got hungry. Hopefully that would give him a few hours of peace alone with you. 

“Y/N-swannnn,” he cooed to you as he approached, but stopped when he saw something in his seat. He looked at it curiously as he got closer, and he realized it was a small replica of himself.

His sudden silence prompted you to open one of your eyes, and you saw him looking at the doll you had put in his seat. “Oh…” you stutter, starting to sit up to explain.

“Y/N-swannnn! Did you make this?!?!” Sanji sets down your refreshments and picks up the doll, pausing briefly to give it a thorough examination. “It’s perfect!” he gushes. “You’ve created such a beautiful piece of work! It’s so-”

“It’s just for when you’re busy!” You rush to explain. “I missed having you around, that’s all.”

Sanji clutches the doll to his chest, and his eyes turn to hearts at your sentimentality. He rushes to you, finally embracing you after hours of being apart. He litters your faces with kisses, which causes you to erupt into a fit of giggles. Once he’s pampered you enough, he pulls you in for a hug, your plushie squeezed between the two of you. 

“Are you hungry, my love?” He pulls away from you, reaching back for the refreshments to serve you. He sneaks the plushie into his pocket while he displays the assortments of snacks and drinks for you to enjoy, which you happily oblige. 

The food is so perfect, you let out a soft moan in delight. “You always make the best food dear,” you praise. “I’ll never eat food from anyone else.”

“Only the best for my queen,” He says, kissing your forehead and taking a seat next to you. 

After a few minutes, you fell asleep surrounded by the smell of cigarette smoke. Sanji let you sleep, watching you endearingly until he was called away once again  to make dinner.

When you awoke a few hours later, you reached out for Sanji before opening your eyes, but only found air in his place. Your eyes peeked open, searching for him, but instead you found his plushie, along with a note that said “He’s only here until I get back ♥”

Ace

You had lost your fiery boyfriend once again. He was off, running amok with the group of  rowdy crew members on the new island. You had decided to stay on the ship, finishing up some minor projects instead of venturing out to the island. He was supposed to return before the sun set, but the moon was working its way through the night sky now, and you were too tired to stay up and wait for him longer. He had already missed your all’s afternoon nap, which made you skip it as well. You never slept well without him anyway. The next morning, he was still MIA, and you were painfully sleep deprived from missing a nap and not sleeping well. You put your crafting skills to work and created a smaller version of him, hoping that would help your sleeping problem temporarily. It ended up being successful, and you fell asleep easier than you expected, curling up with a small stuffed Ace in the absence of your normal sized one.

--

Ace had gotten hopelessly lost, both directionally and time wise. By the time he realized he was late getting back to the ship, he was too intoxicated to navigate back anyway, and opted to share a room with a bunch of his friends at the inn across the street. He slept horribly without you by his side, and as he shuffled back to the ship late the next morning, he prayed you’d be in the mood for an early nap along with him. 

--

Ace stumbled onto the ship, exhausted and hungover. His eyes raked over the deck, searching desperately for you. He didn’t go out with the boys often, and these days he always seemed to regret his adventures whenever they were included. He would’ve much rather been with you last night, and he hoped you’d forgive him for his last minute change of plans. 

He couldn’t find you on the deck, and he spent the next half an hour searching the ship for you, but he was unsuccessful. He finally gave up, returning to his room to nap with the hope that he would find you later.

He was shocked to find you curled up in his bed, already asleep. He’s even more surprised to see you holding a small stuffed animal, and a small tinge of jealousy rises up in him. You had told him before that you never needed a stuffed animal, since you had always had him to cuddle with at night. 

He climbed into bed next to you, brushing your hair back from your face and pressing his lips to your forehead. You stir, familiar with his touch, and your eyes lazily open to meet his. 

“Oh,” you smile, realizing Ace has finally returned back to you. “Hey, you.”

He smiles back to you, his worry melting away. “Hey you.”

You wipe the sleep from your eyes, and prop yourself up on your elbow. “How was your night?”

He fills you in on his evening briefly. “I wish I hadn’t been away for the whole night. I lost track of time. I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s alright.” You’re happy to hear that he missed you as well. Your fingers trail absentmindedly along his bare chest, not saying anything more about the matter. You had already forgotten about the Ace plushie you had created, but he was still staring at it in the dark room, trying to figure out what it was. 

He picked up the stuffed plushie between the two of you and examined it, quickly realizing that it was a replica of him. He caught your eye and held it up, smirking at you. “Miss me much?”

You gave a shy smile back to him, snatching the plushie from him quickly. “Maybe.” 

He gave you a soft peck on the lips, grinning at your timidness. “It looks cute. Not as cute as me, but cute. I like it.”

He pulls you against him, and you settle into his warm skin. “Shall we nap? Make up for lost time?”

You hum in agreement, already drifting off into sleep, comforted in the routine you all have returned to.

Law

Trafalgar Law had always been a surgeon first and a human being second. You knew that, and you knew how much being a surgeon with the Ope-Ope fruit meant to him. So, when you started dating and his study habits didn’t change, you tried to manage without him. You didn’t want to be too clingy, especially at the beginning. And you had always been good at sewing, so you just created a smaller version of the man you loved, so you could keep him around even when he was busy. Now, whenever you felt the urge to tell Law something throughout the day, you had someone to share it with even when he was occupied. 

-

Law stared at the ceiling fan that was lazily spinning in circles. He had been studying for hours, praying you would come in to distract him at some point. But you had started showing up less and less frequently now that the two of you were official. He wasn’t necessarily concerned about you getting cold feet; if something was wrong, he was certain you would talk to him rather than avoid him. Still, he missed you, your smile, the way you always ran into the room as if the most amazing thing in the world had just happened to you. These days, it felt like the only time he really saw you was during meals and island days. 

-

He found you in the common room, reading a book on the couch. He approached you quietly from behind, and as he bent down, he reached around and grabbed your book with his tattooed fingers as he rested his chin atop your head. 

You hummed pleasantly to his approach. “You’re out of your office early today.” You tilt your head up just enough to make contact with his golden eyes. 

“I needed a break.” He kissed your hair lightly and broke away from you, taking the book out of your hands and he stood back up. He closed it gently and sat it on the table behind him. He returned back to you again, this time reaching down to grab your now empty hands. “Do you want to make dinner with me?”

You had to tilt your head back further now to look him in the eye, and you saw him staring down at you with a smirk. 

That stupid smirk always made words more difficult than they were meant to be, and you take a second to find them all before you speak. “I didn’t think Bepo put you on the schedule for dinner this week, did he?”

His golden eyes pierce into yours, and you feel a blush enter your cheeks when he answers.“I was thinking just the two of us tonight. Pasta?”

-

You stir the sauce as Law begins to work on a side dish for the two of you. “Did anything interesting happen today?”

You hum back, trying to recall exactly what the crew got into today while your captain was locked away. “Oh! Clementine died. The crew gave him a burial at sea. It was very touching.”

You can hear Law stop whatever he was doing behind you. “Y/n-ya,” he starts slowly, gears turning in his head. “Who the hell is Clementine?”

You abandon the sauce momentarily to turn and face him. “You know, the fish Penguin caught the other day?”

“The fish?” His brows furrow at you, as if he’s trying to decide whether or not you’re playing a prank on him. “What fish?”

“The fish! The orange fish that Penguin caught and thought was too pretty to kill! I definitely told you about it.” He’s still staring at you with a confounded look spread across his face. 

“You definitely did not tell me about that.” The look on his face tells you that he’s being truthful, and you realize that you didn’t tell him. You told plushie Law about that day, not actual Law. You turn back to the saucepot, not wanting Law to see your face reddening over your mistake. “Oh, I must’ve been confused. Sorry.”

But your captain knows you well, and he walks over to you and wraps his arms around your waist. “Y/n-ya,” he speaks softly, his head now resting on your shoulder. “What are you hiding from me?”

Your blush deepens from pink to red, and you try your best to focus on the task in front of you. “Oh, uh, nothing.” You stutter over your words, not helping your case. 

“Y/n-yaaaa…” He presses his lips against your cheek for a long while. He always knows the best way to get you to cave to him, and you curse yourself for being so readable. 

“I just…” You pause for a moment, and he hums against your skin to urge you on. “I have this mini-you that I sometimes hang out with when you’re busy and tell stuff too. I guess I told Mini-Law about the fish…”

You feel Law pull away from you, examining your face. He’s trying to catch your eye, but you are intensely staring at the sauce in front of you.

“A mini-me?” He asks, confused. You finally look up at him, and you can see a twinge of sadness in his eye.  

“I just didn’t want to interrupt your studying!” You race to explain. “I know how important it is for you to be a surgeon and I didn’t want to get in the way-”

He pulls you close against his chest, stunning you into silence. You can feel his soft lips pressing into the crown of your head, and he inhales deeply against you. “You can always interrupt me to talk to me, no matter how small you think it is.” He pulls you back from him so he can look into your eyes again. “I’ve missed seeing you in my office. I’ve missed your stories and your voice. I want to hear everything, I want to know it all. So come bother me anytime, okay y/n-ya?”

“I promise.” He bends down to kiss you, and you find yourself smiling against his lips. You can smell the faint scent of tomato burning, but the two of you will figure that out later.

[nymfaia-archive]

“What did I tell you? One of them would be around n’ pick him clean.”

“More than he deserves.”

She watched one of the Elezen adjust his visor and spit, making eye contact with her, as if to issue a challenge. For several tense moments, they simply stood, before he scoffed and turned his back.

“Scavengers,” the other mumbled. And, as if they were stepping over a wayward plank of wood and not a person’s corpse, they strode off, leaving the Warrior of Light and a broken body in their wake.

In a city that was not hers, clad in a fur-lined coat sizes too big for her frame, Alta realized Ishgard was little different than anywhere else she had been. She had sought shelter in the one place no one could look for her, the gates keeping the monsters and beasts at bay. Not too many moons ago, she had wondered what kind of place held itself in such high regard that it would turn away all but those they deemed useful.

The kind of place that had monsters and beasts on the inside, too, she was swiftly learning.

With a hesitant step forward, wood dry rotted and creaking under her boots, Alta crouched down beside them. She was not sure what she could do to give them a proper burial: their corpse was clad in blackened mail and a heavy sword laid beside them.

There would be no way she could carry them. Not far enough to get them out of the city, anyroad, nor did she have the strength to dig through frozen earth to bury him as Eorzeans tended to do. 

It was then she caught a glimpse of a jewel, the sun shyly peeking out between the film of fog and glittering against the garnet. Alta reached out, fingertips ghosting over the stone.

She couldn’t bury them, she decided. But she could put their livelihood to rest. 

Alta pocketed the crystal, awkwardly hefting the greatsword up from where it laid, and made her journey to Central Coerthas with just the right place in mind.

With as much strength as she could muster, she dug the blade into the frozen dirt, breath puffing in the freezing air. The sun was setting: the Fortemps would be wondering where she had gone off to, if she even managed to make it back into the city proper by their dinner bell. Alta gripped the guard, leaning her weight into the waist-high weapon until it sunk a few more ilms into the ground.

She knew someone could come and steal the sword as soon as she turned her back. She also knew they could do the same with the heart-shaped stone, but she hoped the feral creatures that came out with the moon would deter them enough. Alta settled onto her knees; she pushed snow away from the sword, gently resting the glittering crystal into the well she had created.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “that - ... I couldn’t do more. For you.”

Alta hesitated. She brushed snow back over the gemstone, patting it down like one would tuck in a child, and rose from her kneeling. With one more moment of silence given, she turned away, absently brushing snow from her gloved fingers.

It was not until she was back in Ishgard that she put her hands in her pockets. Her woolen fingertips grazed something in her left, pulling forth a garnet-colored gem. She turned to look out over the Sea of Clouds, past the gate she had come in from and the dim light of dusk, seeking out a streak of blackened steel she had become so familiar with in the last few bells.

It was nowhere to be seen, the snow untouched, as if it had never existed.

As if they had never existed.

[lowkeyrobin]

TREVOR SPENGLER ; you make loving fun

summary ; you, Trevor's first proper non-toxic partner shows him true love, and how great it really is when you find your person

warnings ; language, mentions of making out, talk about toxic people/exes, verbal abuse, and emotional neglect

disclaimers ; Trevor is described as bisexual, reader is a garbage fan (green flag)

word count ; 1k

I'm working on reqs rn dw guys 🙏

masterlist

Trevor knew that the second he'd met you, he'd fallen head over heels.

The only thing he was worried about, after being reassured by both his mom and Pheobe, was how you'd treat him. His last ex was terrible to him, and by that point, he felt like he was an abuse magnet.

Thankfully, nothing was ever physical, he thanked whoever or whatever was looking over him for that, even fate itself.

Talking about past exes, his last ex-boyfriend first, he'd essentially treat him like shit and try to hide their relationship. He'd use him for pleasure and attention and then ignore him and act like he didn't know him. Trevor was always there for him, but he was never once available for Trevor. That shit ended quickly thanks to his mom convincing him to end things, plus moving away again made it easy.

His ex-girlfriend was slightly the same way.

For context, Trevor was never popular, but he wasn't ignored or bullied in school either. He was attractive enough to be boasted about, I guess, but he wasn't gathering hoards of girls to swoon over him either.

She used him as popularity points, as she was one of the half-popular girls who wanted brownie points for dating someone on a lower social level than herself. Trevor never saw it and had to deal with the consequences. The fighting, the way she'd scream and yell and argue with him over the simplest things. She treated him like a charity case.

So, he was fairly afraid to hurt himself again. He wanted to pursue you, he did. He was just fucking scared.

But, with enough pressure and reassurance from Pheobe, his mom, and new friend Lucky, he gathered the courage to ask you out. During that process, he rambled about how smitten he was for you and had to genuinely stop himself as he realized he'd never felt like this for anyone before. You weren't someone he just wanted to occasionally hold hands with and kiss. He wanted a genuine, healthy relationship with you. He wanted to be treated right, just this once.

But you, knowing about his past relationships, knew what he needed. And you were dedicated to showing him what actual loved looked like, what a real relationship felt like.

From dates at the roller-rink, to movie nights inside, you showed him that you could love him like how he needed to be loved. He needed to be shown that what he went through before wasn't normal and that you would never think to hurt him like people in his past did.

You made loving fun for him, he'd never smiled and had so much fun with someone, ever.

He loved making out with you in his new bedroom at the firehouse, and your soft kisses of reassurance when he was upset or stressed. He'd always find his stomach and lungs genuinely in pain from how much he laughed with you. He was infatuated with you, with holding your hand and caressing said hand with his thumb, with wrapping his arms around you to just hold you like that in silence.

His photos app is filled with pictures of you, over 500 through the past year. His lockscreen? A picture of you two at the county fair under dark blue neon lights.

He watches you sitting in the window, your body barely fitting onto the ledge. Thank God for bay windows, but christ, the people who made this building over 120 years ago needed some better architectural design here. What was the bay window for if not to sit in it?

He'd only woken up a bit ago, having been in the shower as you entered his room, awaiting his arrival. His family thankfully loved you, and would let you in no matter what.

"You look nice today," He comments, running a hand through his hair.

You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow. "Do I not usually look nice?"

"No, no, I mean, yeah! You always look nice!" He quickly sputters, "I-I like your shirt. Garbage, they're cool"

You lightly smile, reassured in his loyalty and kind-heartedness by his answer. "You're fine, Trev, I'm playing" You chuckle, "You've never even listened to Garbage"

You pull the sleeves of your undershirt down, feeling a cool wave hit your body like the wave of water at the beach. Your baggy jeans cover you perfectly as the sun peaks out from the clouds.

"You don't know that!" He exclaims, crossing his arms, "All your Spotify playlists are public, I can listen to whatever you are with a couple clicks"

"Okay, bud" You throw your hands up in a sarcastic annoyance. "Whatever you say, pal. I guess we gotta break u-" You quickly stop yourself, looking up at Trevor with slightly widened eyes. "Holy shit, I'm so sorry"

You quickly hop off the ledge of the window, your hands clenched into fists as you stand in front of him awkwardly, awaiting his reaction.

"I'm so sorry, that was uncalled for, I didn't mean to say that-"

"It's fine, Y/n/n" Trevor looks at you with a confused yet laid back expression. "Why are you apologizing?" He catches himself, finding the answer on his own, "Oh, well... it's not that big of a deal, it's okay" He shrugs, "It's fine"

"Sorry, uhm-"

Trevor quickly wraps you in a hug, resting his arms over your shoulders. "I love you, okay? I've never loved anyone so fun and amazing to me, joking about shit is fine"

You nod into his shoulder, "Sorry"

"It's okay" He chuckles, rubbing a hand over your back. "You're fine, it's alright"

"You're the fun one, by the way" You mumble.

"Hm?"

"You're the one who makes loving fun, Trev"

He silently smiles, his face flushing as he holds you a little tighter.

[dwaekkicidal]

Curly Hair Routine with Changbin

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Teaching Changbin how to take care of his curls. based off this post/request!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1k (how did i do this.. i thought it was like 500)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: none really :3 just fluff and mentioned that reader has longish, curly hair

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: i saw a few moots repost that prompt and i have curly hair (like 3A/3B?) that i've been learning to take care of the last few years so :3 thought this was cyuuute!!! also probably gonna write chris' later today/tomorrow! (my insomnia came back so.. we'll see when it gets done LMFAO)

@chaeryred (also @httpdwaekki cause hehe) i hope you guys like it >< thought it came off a little messy but i still think its pretty cute

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

"YAH! IT'S TOO COLD"

"SIT STILL! I JUST HAVE TO WASH IT OUT-"

"NO!!!! MOM!!! HEEEEEEELP-"

After wrestling your boyfriend like a cat taking a bath, you managed to wash the rest of the conditioner out of his hair and wrap his head up in a towel. You sent him to sit on the floor in the living room while you went to grab all your products from your bedroom. Once you returned, you were met with the biggest pout you've ever seen mixed with the nastiest side eye known to man. His head is almost completely wrapped up in a towel, minus the big circle where part of his face peeks out, and his arms are crossed sassily.

You couldn't help but smile and chuckle, shaking your head as you dropped the products and tools on the couch. You sit directly behind him, putting your legs on either side of his shoulders and leaning him into you. He shivers and your heart pangs a little, but you lean forward and wrap your arms around him and rub them soothingly. A quiet 'hmph!' comes from him and you laugh again.

"I'm sorry, baby. You said you wanted to do my hair routine just like me. And I always end it off with rinsing with cold water." Your fingers sneak into the hole in the towel and pull it back some, exposing his cheeks more as well as some of his wet hair. He makes the angry noise again and throws a small fit, turning away from you and tugging the towel back to its previous position in defiance.

You peck his cheek a few times and combine it with a mumbled apology. Then a small smile forms on his face and you start ruffing the towel, rubbing your hands back and forth and using it to poke fun at him while also starting to dry his hair off. Giggles erupt from the both of you as he drops the tough act and reacts to the ticklish feeling, his distinct giggle ringing through your ears in the best way possible.

Once you both have calmed down, and he's no longer feigning distress, you start to gently dry his hair. "I brought a mirror too." His hair is mostly dry and you grab your brush before realizing that Changbin's eyes have been glued to the show on TV. This was supposed to be a learning experience so you wanted him to watch, but it was also endearing to see him trust you so blindly that he resorts to iPad-baby tendencies.

"Are you gonna watch me do it so you can learn, or was this just an excuse for you to get pampered?" You tease, tilting his head back gently so he can look you in the eyes. He smiles apologetically and reaches for the mirror, "Sorry, Bunny. Got a little distracted hehe. I am your apprentice tonight! Teach away, Jagi." You smile widely and lean down again to place a kiss on his lips. One he reciprocates it before fixing his posture and placing the mirror in position.

He then lowers the television down and sits there patiently, allowing you to take him through the steps and using the mirror to peek at what your hands are doing. You start it off by showing him the products and explaining what they do and then tell him how you're supposed to use them, using a strand of his hair as an example.

Each step doesn't take long, thanks to the fact that he memorized the first few steps of your routine; the brushing and cream application. What you did explain was the styling techniques. He could have just left it as is and not done anything, or he could do what you do and finger-coil each strand.

He had seen how you slaved over your hair for over an hour each time you finger-coiled it and was dreading his experience to be similar to that. But thanks to how short his hair was compared to yours, it was a cakewalk. However, when he tried to coil one strand himself, his fingers did manage to get tangled in each other a few times... but you have to experience something to really learn from it! And the texture of the gel you used seemed to drive him crazy, but he got used to it eventually.

Then it was onto drying! You had brought out the diffuser attachment- or.. what Changbin called the "claws of death," for your hair dryer. He had seen you use it countless times before, but it looked like a jumbled mess of things from the outside and he never knew if there was a technique to it or if it was just random movements.

After teaching him the tips and tricks you used for extra volume and just how to diffuse his hair in general on a small section of his hair, you watched proudly as he dried the rest of his hair on his own with little to no problems. You did a dramatic reveal, wiggling your fingers and adding a "Tada~" when he looked into the mirror for the final time.

He stared for a while, eyes tracing the unfamiliar, defined curls on his head. They were pretty, and you have literally never seen his hair like that before. But what really made it worth it was his reaction. A big smile grew on his face and he turned to you, crawling up the couch to give you a big kiss. "Thank you, Bunny."

"Of course, baby. You look good like this." You smiled and admired your handiwork for a while until you remembered that today was supposed to be your wash day in the first place.

"Okay!! Time for me to wash my hair now." You peck him on the lips and playfully shove him onto the couch, running away after. The pitter-patter of his steps chases after you and he wraps his hands around you once the water is turned back on.

"Wait. I want to do it!" He smiles widely despite the unsure face you make. But he's your Binnie, so it's kind of hard not to cave in. You agree and resume the same position he had earlier, sitting on the tile with your neck resting on the edge and your head hovering over the big bowl of the tub. He steals another kiss before gathering your hair products and directing the water to your head.

"Don't worry, Bunny. I'm a professional at this~"

Taglist:

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha

@bubblerizz

[virescent-v]

Wine Breath

Summary: Gif-inspired "drabble" for @scorpsik A/N: Apparently, my "drabbles" are under 1k words and not closer to 500....... Warnings: None. :) Word count: 991

Emily woke up with a start, the sunlight filtering through the curtains blinding her. With old mascara-caked, dried contact eyes, she squints against the brightness. Her mouth is dry, her tongue fuzzy. A stale taste of alcohol and something else on her breath. 

Emily glanced around, immediately on alert. 

She didn’t recognize the room she was in. 

…and she was in her bra and underwear. 

Jumping out of the - rather comfortable - bed, Emily frantically looked around for anything resembling her own belongings. 

Finding black jeans and white button down that she remembered putting on yesterday, Emily hurriedly dressed before taking in her surroundings. The bed she was sleeping in was large, king sized, with a light colored duvet. The room itself was clean, but there weren’t any real personal effects. There were various artworks and sculptures around the room. 

Creeping around the perimeter of the room, her FBI training kicking in, she peers around the corner of one of the two doors in the room. 

A bathroom. Two toothbrushes on the counter, one still in the packaging and unused. 

Continuing around the room, she made her way to the other closed door, expecting that to be her exit. Opening the door slowly, quietly, she listens to see if she can hear any movement outside of the room. 

There seems to be no movement that she can hear, so she ventures out. She’s in an apartment that she now realizes she vaguely recognizes. 

Emily’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.” 

** 

Rushing into work, a little off-guard and definitely late, Emily runs straight into Penelope. 

“Uh, Emily. Stalking case. I texted you twenty-eight minutes ago.” 

Checking her phone, Emily grimaced. “Oh, you did. I’m sorry. Uh, just a little distracted,” Emily said, stuttering a little. 

“Because of the, uh, person in your office?” Penelope asked, pointing towards Emily’s office, a lone figure shadowed by the blinds. 

“There’s someone in my office?” Emily asked, turning towards where Penelope pointed. Shaking her head, she refocused on her friend in front of her. Emily sighed, “Wait, Penelope, listen.” 

Penelope startles at the tone of Emily’s voice, straightening up. “Yes, my fine furry friend?” 

Emily skirts her eyes around the office quickly, making sure there wasn’t anyone listening nearby. “I, uh, didn’t wake up in my bed last night.” 

Penelope’s eyes widened. Whispering, she said, “What do you mean not your bed?” 

Emily was immediately distracted by a shuffle of noise in her office, her eyebrows furrowing. Her head swiveled back and forth between Penelope and the window to her office. “I, uh. Hm. I woke up in her bed.” Emily started to frown, the noise in her office getting louder. She started to turn, as if to walk away. 

“Wait, Emily.” Penelope reached down into her bag, moving things around until she pulled out a small container. Turning back to Emily, with her hand outstretched. “Open. Ah,” as she places a mint on Emily’s tongue. “You’re gonna need that. You have wine breath.” Closing the container and shoving it back in her bag, Penelope yell-whispers, “We’ll talk about last night later, hot stuff.” 

Emily closes her mouth, happy to not have a dry, stale mouth anymore. She sighs and heads towards her office. 

** 

Emily crossed the threshold into her office, freezing. 

Shuffling paperwork on her desk, was you. 

“Hm, hi. I, uh,” Emily stammered, her eyes skittering around you, trying to get a read on you.. “I didn’t see you this morning.” 

You continued to shuffle paperwork around, smirking up at Emily. “Well, sleepyhead, you were out like a light and I wanted to get in early to get things sorted for the case,” you said, waving your hand around the papers. 

You walked around the desk, watching how antsy Emily seemed to be. Stepping close to her, within arms length, you say concerningly, “Em, are you okay?” 

Emily licked her lips, eyes trailing over your face. She nodded her head, which seemed to also nod her body along with the movement. “Yep, yep. Totally good. So fine. Good, really good.”  

You tilted your head. “Yeah, try that again but more convincingly,” you laughed. “Is it about last night?” 

Emily glanced back over her shoulder, through her open office door, before stepping a little closer to you. “Did we, uh…do anything?” 

You started laughing. Out-right, loud belly laughs. “Oh, you don’t remember, do you?” 

The question made Emily’s nerves grow. She started to shift on her feet, her lower lip caught between her teeth as a deep blush flamed on her cheeks. “I wish I remembered our first time…?” She trails off. 

Your laughing stops abruptly. “You think…we…together?” You insinuated, gesturing obscenely. 

Emily rubbed the back of her neck, looking away awkwardly. “Well, I woke up in a bed mostly naked. I figured something of the sort happened.”

You would’ve started laughing again if Emly didn’t look so…disappointed? 

You stepped forward  just a little, already in Emily’s personal space. You reached up slowly, tucking some of her hair back out of her face. “Em. You came over, got incredibly wine drunk. I put you to bed in my guest room. You stripped down to your bra and underwear before passing out.” You chuckled. “You didn’t even brush your teeth or take off of your makeup.” Playing with her hair a little, you blushed. “Trust me, if we’d done any of…that…I would be pissed that you’d forgotten.” 

Emily’s body relaxed. She cleared her throat as her hands found your hips, pulling you ever closer. “Well, then. Want to redo last night with a different ending?” She smirked, winking exaggeratedly at you. 

Another full body laugh burst out of you, as you wrapped your arms around Emily’s neck. “This time, maybe don’t finish a bottle of wine by yourself.” 

Emily shook her head. “Only water for me.” Her hands trailed lightly over your lower back, her fingers just creeping to the edge of your slacks. “I want to remember everything.” 

[23victoria]

"Mmm, it's something 'bout that feelin' you give me"

pairings: f1 grid x you

word count: 500

authors note: anon thank you so much for the request!! first time writing a blurb! hope it’s okay! wasn’t to detailed but hopefully you guys like it!! any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

wanna be tagged in my works?! CLICK HERE!

f1 masterlist 1k celebration

❥ He can’t help but talk about you to his friends, constantly sharing stories of your sweet moments and how much he adores you.

❥ Spontaneous dates are his specialty; whether it’s a surprise dinner at a fancy restaurant or a sudden getaway to a cozy cabin, he loves keeping you on your toes.

❥ He has a habit of checking your online shopping cart and buying everything in it, often adding extra surprises he knows you’ll love.

❥ Every week, a beautiful bouquet of flowers arrives at your doorstep, each one more extravagant than the last, accompanied by a heartfelt note.

❥ One of his love languages is all about acts of service and gift-giving; he constantly finds ways to make your life easier and more joyful.

❥ Surprise trips are a regular occurrence; one weekend you might be lounging on a tropical beach, the next exploring the streets of Paris.

❥ He showers you with thoughtful gifts, from custom-made jewelry to designer handbags, rings, necklaces and more.

❥ On your computer, he secretly looks at your wish list and makes sure you never have to wait for anything you want, adding items he knows will make you smile.

❥ He loves planning elaborate surprises, like a private dinner on a yacht with a live band or a day at the spa just for the two of you.

❥ Little acts of love fill your days, like finding your favorite snacks in the pantry or discovering a new book he picked out just for you.

❥ He arranges fun adventures, like a spontaneous road trip or a day spent at a theme park, always making sure you’re having the time of your life.

❥ You never know what surprise awaits you next; it could be tickets to a concert, a new piece of technology, phone, computer, or even a hand-written love letter hidden in your purse.

❥ He’s always thinking ahead, planning your next vacation or weekend getaway, ensuring you both have something exciting to look forward to.

❥ Acts of service are his way of showing love; from preparing your favorite meals to handling errands you dislike, he’s always finding ways to make your life easier.

❥ Spontaneous dates are a regular part of your life; whether it’s a quick trip to a new city or a romantic evening under the stars, he loves surprising you.

❥ He loves making memories with you, and every moment is filled with laughter, joy, and the warmth of his unwavering affection.

•☆.°. taglist .•☆.° : @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @Ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @yoncesgroove @tellybearryyyy @exotic-iris13 @magixpracticality @eoduuung @eternoangel @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @danieldaviddarren33 @flowerpetalk @xoscar3 @jimcarreyfann42 @demyackerman @oledoledoffen @poppyflower-22 @pear-1206 @revolutionsingingintherain

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[writingquestionsanswered]

Writing Isn't Flowing/Word Count Low

Anonymous asked: I saw people doing 10k words a day challenge on YouTube and it made me think about making my own writing sessions longer/more productive. Not 10k words, but something more sustainable for me. I have an outline, but I usually write about 500-800 words, rarely 1k, when the words start to feel heavy and I need to take a break. Sometimes the inspiration is there and the words flow, but more often than not I have this heavy feeling. I try not to focus on word count too much, but still think I'm writing too slow. Any tips on how to write more? 🌸

[Ask edited for length]

The first thing to look at is your outline, because people say "I have an outline" but their outline is, "Sarah wakes up and goes to school, she meets a cute guy, then later he asks her out. Then she gets in trouble in class and goes to detention. Then after school, there's a big fight. Sarah is late getting home and gets in trouble with her mom." That's not really an outline so much as a really general summary of events. An outline would be: Sarah wakes from a strange dream to the sound of her brothers arguing. After calming them down, she helps her dad get everyone fed then walks to school with her best friend Maria. Maria tells her about a cute boy she met at the library the previous evening... Outlines are more detailed so there's not as much guesswork to do when you sit down to write.

Consider your current situation, because sometimes the words aren't flowing for obvious reasons. Are you tired? Not feeling well? Distracted? Overwhelmed? Uncomfortable? Sometimes these things can be helped, like making sure you get more sleep and trying to minimize distractions, but you can't help it if you're not feeling well or if you have a lot on your mind. But, really taking the time to analyze your situation and see what you can help does make a difference.

Fill your creative well by consuming other stories (TV, movies, books, video games, etc.) and by doing creative exercises and things to help your creativity flow. Guide: Filling Your Creative Well

Try writing sprints. If you have a solid outline, a full creative well, and no obvious situational dampers to your writing, you might try doing writing sprints instead of sitting down for long writing sessions. You can experiment with how much time works best for you. Many people do 30-minute sprints, but you could do ten, fifteen, or twenty. Any number that works. So, you would choose the length, set a timer, and sit down to write until the timer goes off. When it does, you'll take a break. You might stretch for ten minutes, go for a short walk, put a load of laundry in, tidy up your room... then, you set the timer and go again. Breaking up your writing session into sprints can be a great way to keep yourself engaged and to minimize that sense of the words getting heavy.

Last but not least, if none of the above work, try reading through the relevant posts on my Motivation master list of posts.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Bucky isn't a fan of children roaming the streets in costumes and asking for candy. But it only takes one little boy to change his mind.

This is my Halloween contribution to the fandom and a shoutout to @jessybarnes, congrats on reaching 500 followers!

Word count: just over 1k

He had just gotten home. Bloodied and bruised. There hadn't been any time for him to change. In fact, he had barely stepped through his front door when his phone pinged with a notification from you.

Went to the store to grab more candy!

Bucky scowled. Halloween. He didn't have time to think about such mundane things as your favorite pagan holiday. Naturally, you felt otherwise and had taken the liberty of decorating his home for him.

It was lucky he lived in an apartment building. What was the likelihood that any kids would-

"Trick or Treat!" A chorus of voices accompanied a knock on the door.

His shoulders drooped in disappointment. Maybe he could ignore it?

"TRICK OR TREAT!" There was only one voice this time but louder than before.

Bucky was a patient man who knew multitudes of silence and stillness. He would be patient.

"Come on, Mister! I saw you go inside!" The voice of a little boy who was far less patient than he was.

A sigh escaped Bucky's lips. He was exhausted and didn't particularly want to deal with the emotional baggage that came with the way he expected a child would react to his appearance. He knew people still saw him as a monster, despite his pardon. He had no desire to see fear reflected in the eyes of innocence. But the pounding didn't stop.

He looked around wildly for something to give the expectant youth. His eyes finally landed on a bowl beside the door. There was one candy bar left inside.

Well, it was better than nothing. Bucky grabbed the bowl and wrenched open the door. An audible gasp stopped him in his tracks. He looked down to see an eight year old boy dressed as Captain America standing before him, mouth agape.

"Here kid, this is all I've got," he held out the candy bar to the frozen child.

Both Bucky and the boy stood facing each other for what felt like an eternity to Bucky. Neither of them moved and Bucky wondered if the boy's jaw could drop any further. His silence was making Bucky very uncomfortable.

"Look kid, just take this and go," he dropped the bar into the kid's pumpkin basket. As an afterthought he added, "you don't have to be scared."

"Are you an Avenger?" The boy whispered.

"Not exactly, kid."

"But you're friends with Captain America?"

Bucky was loath to answer this question, but he couldn't exactly deny that he and Sam were friends.

"I guess you can call us friends."

"Do you have superpowers?"

Bucky shrugged. He thought of superpowers belonging to heroes. He would never describe himself as one.

The kid smiled and continued talking despite Bucky’s nonverbal state. “My dad lives in Washington DC now.” 

“That’s nice?” Bucky felt the need to respond to the wide eyes which hadn’t left his face since he opened the door.

“I went to visit him over the summer. He doesn’t live with me and my mom anymore.”

Bucky didn’t miss the glaze of sadness which washed over his face, and he didn’t like how it made him feel.

“Did you like it there?” he asked the boy.

“Yeah! He took me to the Smithsonian.”

Bucky finally understood what the boy was telling him.

“I read about you.”

“Oh.” Bucky’s face fell. The kid had read about the Winter Soldier and his past. “Look, I’m not-”

“You’re my favorite!” The kid was positively beaming up at him.

“F-favorite?” Bucky stuttered, utterly baffled by the response he was receiving. “Favorite what?”

“Howling Commando!” He bobbed up and down with excitement. “You’re Steve Roger’s best friend!”

“Yeah,” Bucky’s face softened and he replied softly, saddened by the thought of his oldest friend. He missed Steve. He looked down at the child before him, his bright eyes and blonde hair. “What’s your name, kid?”

"Steve," he smiled. "My mom named me after Captain America because he saved her life when she was pregnant with me. Dad tells me what happened as a bedtime story on my birthday." The light behind his eyes dimmed with his last words. "He missed it this year."

"I'm sorry, pal."

"Next time I see him, I'm going to tell him I met an Avenger!"

"I bet he will be real impressed!" Bucky smiled, choosing not to correct little Steve.

"When I grow up, I wanna be just like you!"

"I don't think you want that," Bucky answered wistfully.

"You don't think I can be a hero?" Little Steve's face fell.

"Of course you can!" Bucky inwardly cursed his use of language. He knelt down in front of the boy and laid a hand on his shoulder. "But you know my friend, Sam Wilson? Captain America?"

Little Steve nodded solemnly.

"He's the guy you want to grow up to be. Got that?"

"Yes sir, Mr Bucky."

"But if you ever tell him I said that, you'll never get candy here again. Understood?" Bucky said sternly, dropping his last candy bar into the kid's pumpkin basket.

"I'd better get going or I'll miss out on the good candy. No offense, but you gotta get something better than this."

"Working on it, pal," Bucky smiled as you turned the corner, arms laden with several bags. He unburdened you and emptied the contents of one bag into Little Steve's small hands.

He delighted in the sight of the boy's bright eyes and toothy grin. "Thanks!" he cried, backing away with his sugary horde.

"Don't eat it all at once!" Bucky called after him. 

You stood to the side watching the way Bucky had spoken to the little boy, giving him a smug smile.

"What?" Bucky frowned.

"What was that about?" You pointed between Bucky and the spot where Little Steve had stood.

"Kids these days, no respect. We didn't have the luxury of being given this much sugar when I was a kid."

"Is that why you gave him half of what I just brought back?"

Bucky shrugged.

"Come on, let's go inside. The kids may think that blood is fake, but I know better!" You steered Bucky into the apartment. "And if you're good, you'll get a treat too!"

“Did I mention that dress looks incredible on you?" Bucky smirked, eyeing your rockabilly cap sleeve dress with its sweetheart neck and flared skirt. True to the Halloween spirit, it was covered in a pumpkin and ghost design.

You put your arms around his neck. “There will definitely be treats tonight,” you purred into his ear.