#no man is an island of red thread

[respectthepetty]

Red Thread of Fate

We all know Oh No! Here Comes Trouble was tied together by a thin red thread of fate, and we saw this from the beginning

to the very end.

But what about all the various ways we saw it in between? There were the obvious red threads showing how everything was connected,

but what about all the subtle ways, like when people's phones reflected red as the plane fell in the sky.

Or how the grandfather and father wore red around their necks the day of the accident.

Because that thin red burning paper floated through the scene only to break apart and kick start this entire adventure.

And each time a new case emerged, it showed up in red.

And even though Yiyong wanted to live a calm life in the blue, the red would always find its way in.

Until finally, he would have to accept his destiny each time and surrender to the red.

Because the thin red line of fate actually started with his grandfather running from his destiny.

And he tried for years to ignore it even though the red was still there.

So his avoidance began to weave others into the story.

Which forced blue boy Yiyong to deal with the red destiny his grandfather refused to confront because his friends wouldn't let him ignore it.

Since these people were always destined to be apart of his story.

Because the red always showed up to signify when someone was tied to the larger story.

So when Yiyong was in trouble, that red thread could appear

And lead his friends to him since they were all connected.

Since that was the real red thread of fate that the grandfather gave up on. The thread is meant to connect people, but instead, the grandfather closed himself off, unlike Yiyong. So when Yiyong looked like his destiny would be the same as his grandfather

And when it felt like the cycle seemed to come to a close

Yiyong friends rushed to helped him

And all those red threads of fate that blue boy Yiyong had helped piece together became one to stitch Yiyong back to life.

[jarofstyles]

Miss jars!!! Can you do something about Harry seeing you interact w kids and he’s weirdly quiet when they leave and she thinks something’s wrong but he really is just thinking about wanting one of their own hehe

Oh yes yes yes.

Check out our Patreon

—-

Harry was oddly quiet on the way home.

It wasn’t like he was upset, per say, because when he was it was something she could click immediately. His jaw wasn’t clenched, his hands weren’t gripping the wheel until his knuckles were white, he wasn’t controlling his breathing. Yes, his brow was slightly furrowed and he was lost in his head, but that wasn’t abnormal.

The man was always in his head thinking of his next projects, his work, his family- her. She was leaning towards that, considering he hadn’t even noticed her gaze on him yet. Big Yellow Taxi was playing and there wasn’t much to react to except the subconscious tapping at the wheel in beat to the song.

“H?” She asked as they approached a red light so she didn’t startle him. His eyes blinked a few times before he turned to look at her, the little smile on his face before she could even realize it. Okay- definitely not mad at her.

“What’s up, dove?” His tone was light as he gave her his attention for the first time in the drive.

“Are you alright?” Y/N kept her tone soft, not wanting to irritated anything if there was something wrong. “You’re just being quiet, is all. You’re usually more chirpy after we see your family.”

That was an understatement. Harry was usually giggly and in the best mood after they left his mum’s house, kissing on her and bringing her home. Sometimes they danced in the kitchen because the good mood was that infectious. It wasn’t normal for him to be so reserved and quiet after a gathering and it made her wonder what or who was on his mind.

“Oh, I’m great. Trust me.” He assured her, dropping his hand to her thigh for a squeeze. “Nothing is wrong at all. I’m just thinking about something.”

Y/N gave him a look, but let it go for now. There pulling onto their street so she kept quiet about it and put her hand on top of his, threading their fingers together before bringing it to her lips to kiss the back of it. She could see the dimple in his cheek from the action before he took their joined hands and returned the gesture, moving it back to her lap when he pulled into the garage.

The silence was comfortable as they went inside, Y/N knowing better than to get her own door as Harry opened it for her. She followed him inside, the leftover cake his mum sent with them in her hand to put into the fridge- but as soon as they got into the kitchen it was taken from her hand and his palms gripped her face, bringing their mouths together.

Harry stole her breath as he kissed her fully. It wasn’t sloppy or messy, not like the ones he did before things were about to turn into bedroom time, but like he needed to do it. Like he was feeling the urge so fully that he was keeping her lips glued to his, a weak sigh leaving her nose as she melted into his grip. What brought it on? She had no clue. But she wasn’t going to question it.

“I was thinkin’ about how good you were with the kids today.” His little cousins and his niece and nephew. She had spent a lot of time with them today, playing and entertaining them whilst Harry caught up with family. Y/N loved them, it was no chore, but she had no idea he’d been laying so close attention.

“Oh?” She asked breathlessly, knees a little weak from the kiss allowing him to push her back into the kitchen island.

“Mhm. It was…” he shook his head. “Saw you as a mum. Imagined what it would be like when you were runnin’ after our own little ones. How good you’d be with ‘em. You’d make such a good mumma, my love.” And- oh. She felt him against her stomach, a gasp leaving her lips. He shook his head again, catching her lips in another kiss- albeit shorter and a little heavier. “And I was thinking about how soon you’d let me do it to you. Make you a proper mumma. Had me thinking about starting soon so we can have our own little family together. Cause… god, it made me crazy.” The groan was loud as he rested his forehead against hers.

“There’s nothing sexier than seeing you act like that. I dunno why it makes me feel so worked up, but I had to stop myself from taking us home early and begging you to let me give you a baby on the way home. I was bein’ quiet because I knew if I spoke, that’s what would come out of my mouth. And I’d rather us be home for a discussion like that.”

Y/N was shocked by his admission, but also slightly not. The man had been hinting at it slightly and while she had been weighing in if it was the right time or not- she had been waiting for a sign. A clear one. This seemed to be as good of one as any.

“Well.. let’s talk about it then.” She replied, swallowing the arousal he had set off in her throat. “Cause as much as I want to say fuck it and take my clothes off… we need to have a discussion first.”

“Of course.” He nodded eagerly. “But it’s not a no, yeah?” The hope in his eyes made her laugh out loud, cupping his face for another kiss. The man was shameless, it seemed.

“It’s not a no, H. But let me put the cake away first before we plan a family, yeah?”

[softxsuki]

Happy new year!! I hope your holiday season was amazing!!

If it’s no harm (you can ignore this if need!) could I request sanji, law or ace surprising the reader for their birthday? Thou has aged today and was wondering if that was okay:]

(Also I really love your work it’s very edible)

Sanji, Law, and Ace Surprise Reader For Their Birthday

| Pairings: Sanji x Gn!Reader, Law x Gn!Reader, Ace x Gn!Reader | Genre: Fluff | Post-Type: Headcanons | Word Count: 460 |

Warnings: none :)

Note: Happy New Year! I had a pretty great holiday, and so far I'm on track with everything I need to do. I hope you had a great holiday season! But I hope you had a great birthday (it's probably already past January 2 where you are, but Happy Birthday anyway!) It's not much, but I hope you enjoy it <3

Sanji:

It’s a given that Sanji is always affectionate and attentive towards you

But now that it’s your birthday, that affection multiplies

He spends all day in the kitchen cooking up your favorite foods and sweet treats, making sure Luffy doesn’t sneak any bites of food

It’s your special day, so you get first choice on everything

His surprise for you aside from his huge feast, is breakfast in bed

You’re truly treated like royalty from the moment you wake up, and that won’t end until the day is over

Works his butt off to ensure you have a great birthday

After cleaning up later at night, he’d spend some quality time with you, showering you in all the gifts he bought for you from some of the islands the crew stopped at on their journey

Law:

Omg this man is so shy

He wanted to so something special after learning it was your birthday, but he chooses to act like he doesn’t know it’s your birthday, so he can plan everything out and have it be a huge surprise later on

Law insists on doing everything himself, as he claims it would make it more special, so the rest of the crew is tasked with keeping you occupied so you don’t ruin your surprise

When the time comes for them to lead you to the designated area Law was using, he’s just standing there with a red face

He’s not used to this, he’s a tough looking guy on the outside, but he has a huge heart (so fitting for mr doctor over here lol)

But it’s all worth it to see the look of surprise on your face when you see everything he planned–he’s relieved 

Ace:

Ace’s surprise for you is a bit different form the guys above

He doesn't cook food for you or decorate a space for a celebration for you and the crew

But he decides he wants to make something for you, a hand threaded bracelet; one for you and one for him to match

Yet he struggles with his large thick fingers, and it ends up taking him a majority of the day to finish, but he’s happy with it

On the day of your birthday as the Whitebeard pirate wish you a happy birthday, eating the food that was prepared as everyone sings in celebration having a good time, Ace pulls you aside

He’s a little embarrassed that it isn’t much, but I just feel like handmade gifts mean so much more than buying something for someone because you know he took the time and effort to do that for you

Probably even tries and sneak you away from the rowdy bunch on deck so he can spend some quality time with you alone

Posted: 1/2/2024

[deathmetalunicorn1]

can i ask for some headcannons or maybe like a oneshot of strawhats or the whitebeard pirates with a fem crew mate whos a drider???

drider:

something similar to that design and like she would fight with webs using them to crontol people like doffy does with his strings js on a lesser scale! also really tall pretty pls🙏💋

HAVE A NICE DAY/NIGHT/WTV🫶🫶

Originally I was going to do the Straw Hats but remembered that Sanji and Nami are scared of spiders lol.

And the moment I saw this request I could only think of one drider/Arachne!! Rachnera!!

-Whitebeard’s crew was full of dangerous and well-known fighters and members, both with Devil Fruit abilities and ones with natural abilities- making for a melting pot of a very dangerous combination against their enemies.

-You were no exception, after Whitebeard found you many years ago on the deserted island you called your home, and while at first many of your new crew mates were terrified of you, seeing a drider or an Arachne as some called you by- they grew used to you and your shenanigans.

-That being said, you always got to have your fun when new crew mates joined the crew, you loved teasing others, seeing others looking half terrified half aroused by you- as you were quite stunning, and you used that to your advantage~~

-Ace was the newest member and when you scaled down your thin wire, descending upon him from above, his scream made you grin as he turned white in shock, fainting on the spot before the whole ship burst into laughter.

-When Ace popped back up, he went to yell at you before you turned and he froze, he couldn’t yell at a lady~~

-You quickly saw this and approached, your clawed hand coming to cup his face, cooing softly at him, “Ooh~ a chivalrous man- even to a monster such as myself~ I think we need to keep you~” Ace was so flustered by your words and being so close that you couldn’t help but lick your lips in delight- you loved shy boys the most- they were so fun to pick on.

-You learned that Ace was dangerous, just as any of the rest of you were, with his fire abilities, as fire was one of the few things that could severe your threads, which were like iron, as you couldn’t handle extreme heat well.

-Ace was careful around you, not wanting you to get burnt, which always led to you pulling him into your arms, hugging him close while he was red faced, trying to get away from you- flustered by your affections.

-Ace knew that you were strong, as you could take down whole marine ships on your own, just using your dangerous threads, but you were also quite intimidating when you wanted to be.

-When you were on an island, getting supplies alongside Marco, Ace, and Thatch, someone threw a stone at you, which you caught easily as they called out a monster. Other villagers looked scared of you as well, as they had never seem someone like you before, but as you grabbed his man’s face, your eyes turning red as you bared your fangs, threatening him, he quickly fainted, and you dropped him while your ‘brothers’ were defending you.

-You always told them you didn’t need it, as you were used to it- you were used to others being scared of you, something that upset your brothers when you told them this.

-You froze when a child ran over, hugging one of your legs and instantly you were surrounded by other children, as you all came to realize the man you took care of was someone who recently arrived and was threatening this little village with violence, and you just saved them.

-Ace couldn’t hide the shit-eating grin on his face, seeing you looking away with a shy blush on your face, as you were shy with praise like this from others, especially kids.

-When Whitebeard got back to the ship he couldn’t help but laugh, seeing the three men wrapped in your silk in cocoons, only their heads visible, upside down while everyone else was laughing at them while you were up in the crow’s nest, pouting lightly from embarrassment.

-You were a unique member of a unique crew, but they all treated you like family, they were protective of you, and you were protective of them, but if they pissed you off, they were put into timeout like those three- you had a reputation after all!

[confessedlyfannish]

Six Years Ago

Part 1

Part 2

Jon wakes slowly, warm and clean and strong for the first time in weeks. His stomach growls and he wants food, craves a thick juicy cheeseburger instead of feeling nauseous at the thought of it. Breathing comes easy instead of the slow rattle that was making its way through his chest, though the straps going around his face and the back of his head are itchy and the air itself is chilly, a strange icy patch around his mouth and nose amidst what feels like the best heated blanket in the world.

Strong arms shift around him, and the relief is so palpable tears of it form in his eyes as he slides them open, ready not to waste another minute of not seeing Superman, because Dad's found him—

Instead he sees a slight smile, inhuman in the jag of the canines and green eyes that glow in the vast abyss of space.

"Hey there, hey—" the man is saying, white hair drifting around his face, and he's saying other things but Jon is still looking for his Dad, his Dad was here wasn't he, those were his Dad's arms—

Except they weren't. They're this man, this alien's arms, one around his back and the other under his knees, cradling him in the flames of Earth's sun, and he was there, in the lab.

One moment Jon had been hiding from the robot that had been hunting him for days, taunting him as he dodged booby traps and ate leaves that made him sick. He'd grown weaker and dirtier even as Damian's voice in his head urged him to fight, to stay alive, and he'd fallen asleep to a violet sky and the ghost of his mother's hand on his forehead, cool against his warm brow.

He'd awoken inside of a tube, a concave shape of a person, holding his eyes open long enough to see the man peering at him as if he was an exhibit. Don't tap the glass. Or do. Jon wouldn't bite. He couldn't remember how.

And now he is here, threads of plasma tickling his skin, feeling better than he has in days. Behind the man is Earth. Home. Jon is only 93 million miles from home.

He can make it. He will make it.

He stares at the man keeping him from his home, his family, and the tickle in his eyes turns to fire in a matter of blinks. Red light hits the alien straight in the chest and with a shout, he releases Jon.

Jon wastes no time, flying in the direction of Earth. He'd struggle with this, all of this, but adrenaline sharpens his abilities. The mask strapped over his mouth and nose provide oxygen from the pack taped to his chest. He wants nothing more than to rip it off but he leaves it be.

His focus is singular, the apartment in Metropolis. He can feel his Mom's arms around him already. He's formulating what he will say to his Dad, how he will explain about Jor-El. He is worried they won't believe him. Ashamed of what he committed to and then ran away from. He told his Mom to go. He said he would be fine.

He doesn't want to think about the floating island, or talk about it, and he decides he won't. He is a runaway, a failed Superson, but he is not the boy on the floating island. He didn't shiver from fever, tearing at his cape to bandage the wounds from the robot's green metal claws. He did not scream in fear when a trick arrow carved a path down his cheek. He did not give up, covered in bush and counting his ribs like a messed up lullaby.

His Dad can make the trip to the Sun in ten seconds. Jon thinks he flies even faster, and later he will think that is the reason he doesn't notice the Watchtower is missing.

But he does notice Metropolis is gone. Instead of the Daily Planet's gleaming golden globe, he lands in a marsh. Herons fly up and away, squawking in startled choir as he touches down, water lapping up to his knees. He looks to his left but there's nothing but tourists on a floating wooden path in the far distance, taking photos of geese as they weave trails through the water that was supposed to be home.

He looks to his right, and the man from space is there, floating above the water.

Jon flies to Kansas.

By the time the man catches up with him, Jon is curled up in his grandparent's corn field, except it isn't their corn field. He digs a hand into the ground and brings up light, loose soil that tastes like citrus, acidic and unbalanced in a way Ma Kent would never let stand (and he lets it fall from his palm with a shudder, reminded of the mud on the alien island he'd eaten, before the nausea had set in but long after pride had fled). The barn at the far end of the field has a blue door, not red.

"Dad," Jon mumbles into the ground. "Dad."

Feet lightly touch down, but this time Jon knows they aren't his father's.

The man has no heartbeat, nor breath. Even the silver robot softly whirred. But the man is silent as he touches down beside Jon, who will not go back to the tube.

Survive, Damian's voice demands. Jon closes his eyes to the world, this utterly wrong world, and he flies.

Part Four

[bidisastersanji]

"Zoro gets lost because he uses his red string of fate like a compass- and that's why Sanji always finds him" was one of the first things I posted and now it's real! I got three chapters and here's the first part below the cut. Click here to read it on AO3 if you prefer. each part is around 1.5k words. edit: part 2 here, part 3 here

Zoro has always been a simple man; one of actions over words and of tangible things over what he considers trivial. It’s therefore not surprising that, in a world where certain people are bound by fate, each in their own unique way- some rumoured to share markings on their skin, some with changing eye colours, or even some who feel phantom pains from across the sea- in such a spectacular world, Zoro doesn’t really linger on the red piece of thread tied to his pinky finger. 

The red thread hasn’t ever really been a question in his mind, it just was.  

As far back as he could remember, it’s just been there, infinitely stretching Northwards, unmoving and unseen by others. Subconsciously, he taught himself to use it as a compass to navigate his home island, Shimotsuki. He never had to remember to take it with him, and it reliably was always stretching in the same direction, which was perfectly convenient with the function he’d ascribed it. His odd way of getting around easily became second nature, a habit so deeply ingrained that he barely gave a second thought to the bright cord on his hand. 

--- 

He’s about eight years old when things change. 

The first day Zoro gets lost, he thinks he might’ve missed one of the steps he memorised, jaw tight with repressed irritation at being reprimanded for his lateness to practice. 

The second time he gets lost he’s in the forest, thick trees towering over him in all directions, and when the sun starts to lower in the sky, frustration bubbles up in his chest, tight and sour, stinging his eyes, threatening to spill out as he struggles to find his way back to the dojo. They must’ve cut down some trees or something, he scoffs to himself. 

The third time he gets lost, he’s pretty certain that someone must be playing a prank on him and moved the garden shed from its usual spot. There’s no other reasonable explanation -short of the shed growing legs- seeing as he’s such a natural at getting around. 

From then on, Zoro learns to accept that he lives in a world where people mysteriously move landmarks, buildings and roads around all the time. He tries not to take it too personally, being the target of all these pranks, but he does resent the time he wastes when getting around, as its precious time he could’ve been using to be training. Training to finally beat Kuina. 

It takes him weeks to realise that maybe the string on his hand isn’t pointing in the same direction anymore. 

Once he does notice, he notes that it periodically moves around- sometimes a bit, sometimes a lot, always right when he starts getting used to it damnit and no his sense of direction is just fine thank you. After the first couple of students at the dojo get their asses handed to them for teasing him about it, adults and children alike learn not to poke fun at the glaring, directionally challenged green-haired boy, no matter how often nor absurdly he gets turn around.  

The only person that Zoro reveals his little secret to is Kuina.  

He’s eleven, still a head or two shorter than her, and they’re taking a little break from sparring, sharing some homemade onigiri her mom made her. They’re sat in a tree’s shade, a pleasant breeze cooling their overheated skin, and she asks him about his infamously atrocious spatial navigation. He denies it at first, ears heating up in embarrassment, but after a couple more bites he decides if anyone were to know, it would have to be her. His friend. His only best friend. 

The young Zoro reveals that he’s not really sure why he gets lost in the first place- he's always relied on the thread- not landmarks or maps, as he’s now learned others do- to tell up from down, but one day it just moved. His north star moved, and has kept on moving these past three years, and he still doesn’t know why, just that it’s a real bother. 

“Your... thread?” 

“Yeah.” he eagerly stuffs his mouth with more onigiri. 

Her eyebrow raises quizzically. “I don’t know what you mean by that.” 

Zoro gestures to his pinky with a tilt of his chin and a wiggle of his finger. “You know. My red string. On my pinky.” 

“Zoro, I really don’t. I don’t see anything...” She furrows her brow, thoughtful. “But mom did give me ‘the talk’ last week- maybe this has to do with your soulmate!” Sensing a certain disinterest from her junior, she goes on. “Based on the examples I’ve heard about; I’d say it’s likely that the piece of string on your finger leads to your other half.” 

Zoro shrugs lazily. “Sounds like a drag, couldn’t this just be like, my inner compass or somethin’?” 

Her eyes crinkle at that, a grin splitting her face from ear-to-ear. “What inner compass, moron? You always get lost. And aren’t you the least bit interested in the person on the other end?” She pokes him in the chest. 

“Not really, no.” Zoro tries to brush off the taunt, lips pursed and palming his neck in a nervous tick. 

“Ok, think about it this way,” Kuina calls for his attention, “Somewhere out there, on this wide, wide sea- or a faraway island, I guess, there’s someone meant for you. Your person. Your equal. Isn’t that the least bit exciting?” 

The young boy’s scowl shifts into something softer, a pout. “I... guess?” He sighs. “I honestly don’t know- all I care about is becoming the best. Right now, Kuina, you’re my goal, you’re who I’m looking to. I don’t really care about this stranger, or fate, or anything like that. I’m gonna make my own destiny.” 

Her shoulders shake as she laughs. “Why am I not surprised- Zoro, all you think about are swords and fighting. You’re hopeless. I kind of worry for whoever’s stuck with you-” 

“Hey!” his nostrils flare with indignation. “They’re lucky to have me as a soulmate! I’m gonna be so strong- the strongest- and,” he slows down, realising she’d tricked him into caring, just a tiny bit, “a-and they’ll be the happiest soulmate ever ‘cause I’ll protect them.” 

She hums in agreement, amused. “And you’ll cherish them, right?” 

“Y-yeah...whatever.” he stands up abruptly, eager to change the topic and get back to training. “But my priority is to be the greatest swordsman- and don’t you forget it! I’ll beat you tomorrow for sure!” 

- 

After Kuina’s death, thoughts of soulmates and red threads rarely ever cross his mind. 

At her funeral, he briefly wonders what’ll become of her soulmate, if she even had one, but it just brings bile to his throat. They’d never even met her- why did they even matter. They were the ones mourning her, the ones robbed of their beloved friend, daughter, rival- they were the ones left behind with a Kuina shaped hole in their chests. The bitter burn distracts from the heavy emptiness he can’t shake off, the cold wetness of grief seeping into his skin. He wholeheartedly leans into the fury, grateful for a target, a temporarily outlet for the howling tempest of emotions caused by the loss of his best friend. 

Zoro’s world zeroes in on becoming the best. Pushing himself to the limit. Sparring, training. Constant practice and meditation. After Kuina’s death, there’s no student at the dojo for him to look up to, no ever-progressing goalpost he can set as a target. If he stays, he’ll continue being a big fish in a little pond.  

Zoro leaves. 

He sails the East Blue, seeking stronger and stronger opponents, cashing in bounties to get by. The Demon of the East Blue, they start calling him. But he’s still the same boy who gets lost, the ghost of a red thread distracting his steps and getting him turned around as he travels from island to island. His odd navigating system is as familiar and mechanical as the way his muscles move when he uses his swords, so ingrained he rarely registers that he’s eyeing the thin, tightly corded rope in his peripheral vision. 

Arms tied back with a much thicker, tangible rope, body sore, throat parched and delirious from the burning sun, Zoro doesn’t have much to do in Shell Town’s military yard. For the first time in years, he lets himself contemplate the implications of what Kuina had explained to him- the implications of having a person out there meant for him. He wonders if they’ll ever meet- it seems unlikely if he died here. Which he won’t, of course. Because he’s going to be the world’s greatest swordsman, and not even death will keep him away from achieving his dream. Then- only then, will he maybe think of looking for whoever was stuck with him, he decides. It’ll be his decision. 

For now, he’ll just keep following whatever path he feels will lead him to greatness. 

And what an odd path he stumbles into. Zoro joins a pirate crew. He makes friends. They get into heaps of trouble, fighting the marines, a crazy clown, a creepy butler... Zoro is happy to test his mettle, to feel challenged once again, the rush of battle pulsing through his veins like the sweetest nectar, the comforting weight of his blades grasped in his hands and mouth. 

- 

It’s been a couple of days since they left Syrup village now, and from her spot on Merry’s bridge, Nami has been giving him weird looks. 

“Did you hit your head?” 

He huffs, miffed at being bothered during his nap. “No. Why’re you asking?” 

“You haven’t been getting lost as much lately.” she smirks when she adds, “And I’ve seen you get lost on a smaller ship than this, once.” 

His eyes roll. Fucking witch. “Dunno what you mean, my sense of direction is great.” 

“And Luffy’s a great swimmer.” 

They glare at each other for a moment. Sensing she won’t get any more info from the swordsman, Nami turns away first and sighing, returns her full attention to manning the ship’s helm. 

Truth is, the thread had barely moved since they left Usopp’s home island, always pointing in the direction the Merry was sailing- not that Zoro had noticed. This rare situation enabled him to get the hang of the ship’s layout relatively well, and he’d been enjoying how easy it’d become to move around, even though he chalked it up to personal atunement to the Straw hats’ already beloved ship. 

A few hours before they get to the Baratie, he thinks it’s a funny coincidence that the thread is pointing in the direction the Merry is going. 

[goszixx]

I’m sorry

Note: Honestly I had so many ideas that I didn’t want to write :( but! My friend gave me this idea and I think I wrote it alright.

Warning: male masturbation, blindfold, hair pulling, overstimulated, needy Yuta needs reader, horny Yuta. 

Shaky hands slid across his skin. They lowered, rubbing down creamy flesh and the dips of his chest. He felt as if he was on fire. Warm and sweaty, blush flushing his cheeks as his pants became tighter.

Yuta didn’t think he could get so riled up from a photo. But you were so beautiful, wearing such a tight dress that hugged your chest so nice, showing just enough to keep his mind racing. “I’m so-r-ry.” The raven babbled, drool leaking from his chin. He could barely touch himself without picturing your hand again.

You were out with your friends at a classy bar. The outing was to celebrate your close friend’s birthday. You warned Yuta he’d be alone in your apartment for a while but he thought he could handle himself. Truth is, the raven has been pent up recently. With constant tasks nipping at his heels, Yuta has been very busy as of late.

Besides a water down make out session in the kitchen and small pecks on the lips on his way to work. The poor man hasn’t had any action. He was desperate. Desperate for your touch and apple red lips. They were so soft on him, kissing him, sucking him.

A groan left Yuta’s lips as his hand patted the crotch of his dress pants. His legs wobbled as his frame leaned on the kitchen island. His palm settled on the buldge, pressing lightly and hissing from the discomfort. The sharp prick of his teeth settled on his chapped lips. Wet, his tongue glided across them. He continued chewing, debating on wether or not he should go through with it.

Added pressure had Yuta falling to his knees. His pant’s squeezed around his erection in the most agitating way that he just had to unzip them. The raven swallowed hard from the wet spot growing on his panties. It was driving him insane. The embarrassment, the pleasure, the pain.

Embarrassment of coming undone in the most depriving way. His body half covered on the kitchen floor. He was so weak he could barely make it from the enterance of the walk way. But how could he? With the burning feeling of his cock pulsing in his pant’s, his hot hands desperately touching himself.

Crimson bloomed on his pale face as he thought about something you mentioned earlier.

“A lack of a sensation can make your body sensitive.”

The words rang, causing Yuta’s head to throb. His fingers worked on his tie, eyes large and slightly teary. He tied the clothing over his eyes and ears, making his hair fall messily over the band. Weirdly enough, it helped with the embarrassment leaking from his cock.

“I’m so-rry.” He repeated, teeth leaving his lips to break into a moan as his back slumped against the counter. His fingers played with his nipples, his free hand roughly pulling down his underwear. A few strokes down his cock had him choking. His calloused hands had him hissing as heat enveloped his cock. “So pre-tty~”

“I could say the same about you, Yuta.” In a lustful whisper you spoke, fingers impatiently threaded into his hair. Your velvet covered hands soothed his scalp. You could feel him jump from your words. His embarrassment skyrocketing. With the jump came something even more pathetic. Yuta came on the spot, cum staining his white button up.

He scrambled as cum continued to ooze from his cock. “H-Hone-y I~” He tried pulling off the tie from his face but froze from the grip on his hair. Yuta whimpered, more blush highlighting his gorgeous skin.

Somehow, he could feel your eyes on him, watching him and judging him. It made his erection twitch alive. A comical scoff left your enchanting lips. “Do you need some help? You came once but that doesn’t seem to be enough.”

A clothed finger poked at Yuta’s tip. Swirling around the head before swiping over the slit. The babbling raven couldn’t help but drool. “Yuta, your getting my gloves dirty.” You stated, dipping down on your knees. Watching his legs jerk from the little physical attention you gave him, made a small smirk bloom on your painted lips. “These cost a fortune, how will you ever pay for these?”

“I-I-“ He tried to start but his mind was racing. His nails scraped against the floor boards, pleasure overwhelming his body. “I’ll buy you a… new pair… I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” Yuta tried to reason between his pants.

You couldn’t help but smile at the response, giving the raven a small kiss . Your lips lingered on his. One hand guiding his head by your hair, the other started to pump his weeping erection. Yuta kissed you feverishly. His tongue was sloppy as his mind tried focusing on not thrusting into your hand. “There you go Yuta. Now can you be a good boy for me and cum on my hand?”

The words traced the pale skin of the man’s neck as your lips trailed down his exposed body slowly. Yuta’s eyes were squeezed shut, his body felt burnt alive yet limp. “Just came… honey I…”

He was lost. Lost in what to focus on and what to do besides melt into your hands and kisses. “I know, but try.” You cooed. Yuta nodded wearily before thrusting into your hand to his content.

He wanted to come for you so badly it was painful. He’d do just about anything to please you.

[senditcolton]

I've Got the Good Side of Things

Recording their favorite show on the DVR because you know they’ll be in a little late tonight and miss it. And them being somewhat surprised that you didn’t watch it without them.

part of my Valentine's Day prompts requested by anon | word count: 0.8k | warnings: none!

The group chat you had with your friends was muted on Monday at 8pm sharp. A quick text, a small explanation, and then your phone was set to do not disturb.

Normally, you would be right there in that text thread, shooting off multiple messages, probably using too many capital letters, exclamation points, and rose emojis. That was the norm when you watched The Bachelor and when it came to the “Women Tell All” … the drama was increased by a thousand and so were the reactions they brought.

However, Mat was away on a long road trip and wouldn’t be able to watch it with you.

He told you before he left that he didn’t mind if you watched it without him – after all, you’ve watched previous episodes alone because consistent Monday nights off weren’t in the cards when Mat had to report to UBS Arena or hop on a plane more often than not.

But you knew that his favorite thing to do was sit on the couch next to you and watch the drama that came when a group of thirty-two women competed for the attention of one man. Which is why, in your mind, you absolutely could not watch the Women Tell All without him.

So, the group chat was muted and instead of Joey attempting to find love on your screen, the New York Islanders were attempting to get pucks into the Dallas Stars net. The small red light on your DVR indicated that The Bachelor was being recorded, ready to be watched when Mat came back home.

The game ends with an Islanders victory but you wait until that red light disappears before texting Mat.

‘Great game!’ you message him, adding blue and orange heart emojis at the end for good measure. It isn’t long until Mat replies.

‘Thanks babe. How was The Bachelor?’

‘Pretty entertaining,’ you type. Your response was a slight lie. You were sure that it was entertaining as hell but you didn’t have any proof to back up your statements. Thankfully, Mat didn’t ask for proof.

‘Can’t wait to watch it when I get back.’

You smile to yourself, looking around the apartment as you think forward four days. The image of you curled up into Mat’s side, a hefty glass of wine each appears easily in your mind but it is shortly followed by a different image. You look around, planning out the idea that had filled your mind.  

Why not make a night it?

~ four days later ~

It took time and effort but you were ready. Plates were filled with Mat’s favorite home-cooked meal and glasses were filled with red wine, waiting on the coffee table to be consumed. The Bachelor on the television, paused on the title card, and a frankly ridiculous number of roses were scattered around your apartment.

It is silly how giddy you are, standing near your front door and bouncing on the balls of your feet as you wait for Mat to arrive. He texted you, asking if it was still alright if he came over that evening and you couldn’t say yes fast enough. You couldn’t wait to see his face – both in general and to see his reaction to your crazy plan.

A knock echoes around the room and the sound hadn’t even dissipated before you’re swinging the door open, coming face to face with Mat. You watch as his crooked smile appears and he wastes no time sweeping you into a hug.

“I missed you,” he mumbles against your shoulder.

“I missed you too.” You pull away from him and hold your arms out. “Welcome back!” you say, watching as Mat gazes around the space, taking in the state of your studio apartment.

“What’s all this?” he asks, bewildered, his eyes returning to yours.

“I lied to you. I didn’t watch The Bachelor on Monday because I wanted to watch it with you,” you explain.

“You didn’t watch it?”

Your reply is a small nod of your head.

“You made my favorite meal and decorated the apartment just so we could watch it together?”

Another nod.

“And you blew off your friends group chat? Even when I told you it was okay to watch it without me?”

You nod again, although the action this time is a little timid, a sliver of doubt blooming in your chest at his cascade of questions. Was it too much? Was it too weird? The nerves remain until that stupidly infectious smile spreads across his face.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Jesus, don’t scare me like that, Mat!” you exclaim, swatting his chest, a laugh falling from both of you.

“I figured I’d get us in the mood. Create some drama, y’know?” he explains, grabbing your hand as he makes his way to couch with you in tow. You settle down next to him, picking up your wine and the remote before curling into his side.

“I think that this episode will have enough drama without your help,” you chirp, pressing play and hearing applause from the studio audience resonate from the speakers. Mat’s arm comes around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him in order to press a small kiss into your hair.

[skelepen]

Hideduo Wedding Thoughts

The PoaR server was talking about it, so now I'm putting all my thoughts here. Have to get them out of the brain. Feel free to steal these.

Pre-Wedding

To mirror Pac asking Ramon for his blessing to date Fit, I think Fit would ask Richas' blessing to marry him. Unaware that Pac also has plans to propose. They accidentally do the proposal at the same time

Pac asking Mike to be his Best Man is a no brainier. Of course his platonic soulmate is going to be his Best Man, and Mike will come in a stunning dress because if there's something that man enjoys, it's wearing a statement outfit

For Fit, it's harder. It's a choice between Phil and Tubbo. As much as Tubbo gives him and Pac shit, Tubbo's been there through it all. And Phil and Fit have known each other for so long, it feels wrong to leave him out of the party. Despite Fit's better judgement, he asks Phil to officiate, and Tubbo as his Best Man. Tubbo makes a big fuss about it for a bit before agreeing

Etoiles basically begs to be security again. And Fit can't help but still be a bit wary of his Best Man so he readily accepts

Richas and Ramon are Flower Girl and Ring Bear respectively. Richas is excited for the excuse to throw things at Islanders and not get yelled at for it. Ramon takes Ring Bear VERY seriously. Doesn't let ANYONE near the rings until he gets them to his dads

Leo is the photographer for the wedding!

Radio Egg does make a spectacular return

Wedding Design

The rings are different pieces of metal threaded together to look like vines and thorns. Pac's gemstone is a Tiger's Eye. Fit's is a Sapphire

The flower arrangements are of course a huge emphasis on roses, but there's small blue, and white flowers included too

Colors for the wedding are mainly jewel tones, heavy red emphasis

Pac wears a suit designed by Lullah

Fit wears a dress. It's white and amazing and designed by Sunny. It's a pivotal moment for Fit's character because it would be hard to fight in. It would take complete vulnerability, a dismissal of any and all lessons from 2b2t, and a complete trust in everyone at the event, especially Pac. But he does it, his excuse is for Sunny, but…Fit is rarely the type to describe himself as handsome, let alone beautiful, but he feels beautiful when Pac looks at him

Ceremony

Fit's vows are rambly and stumbled through (Phil and Tubbo tease him hard abt it later) and Pac's is quick because he wants to make Fit laugh

When they're told they can kiss, Pac dips Fit into the kiss. Fit takes a sharp breath when he realizes what's happening. Rarely is he treated like something precious. Something to hold and yet. Here he is. It's the best kiss he's ever had, and he hopes Pac can continue to top it

Tubbo does try a couple of things, but Etoiles and Bagi are quick to shut it down. And Tubbo does get a talking to from Sunny

The first dance is scary, but Pac takes the lead and it's like they're the only two on the dancefloor

Ramon and Richas join in very quickly mid first dance to dance with their pais

Tina makes it her MISSION to catch the bouquet and goddammit she does. Tackles people for that thing

[liquid-luck-00]

Red Binding 1

Maribat March Day 1: Origins

@maribat-calendar-events @maribatserver

Next

Trigger for implied neglect, blood, and violence towards a minor

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette was, what most would consider a normal, happy, child. But that was far from the truth.

She was ten when she finally noticed something was off.

Her parents as much as she loved them and they said that they loved her. Never made time for her. Never asked more than how was her day, so she would ramble about anything and everything. She never had a curfew and her parents never seemed to worry. That's when the bullying began.

She was eleven when she recognized that the bakery was the top priority and not her.

Her school life was in shambles. Her friendships were strung by a thread, with even a whisper from Chloé, they would abandon her.

So when a small box appeared in her room, at the age of twelve, and from it a small red creature asked her to leave with them she agreed. They talked for hours, extending for days (a bit over a week in total), before she was truly good and ready to leave Paris. They spoke about their lives (existence in Tikki’s case), the powers and responsibilities that would be placed upon Marinette, but most of that time they enjoyed one another’s presence.

The creature listened to her, actually listened to what she had to say, gave her a choice, so she agreed to follow the creature.

In the middle of the night she packed a small bag and stood in the center of her room. "Are you ready, Marinette?" The creature, Tikki they called themselves, chirped. "As much as I can be." She looked the creature in the eyes and everything spun. It felt as if she was floating, or not, as she slammed onto the stone floor.

When she stood up, she dusted herself off and looked around. She was in a well kept garden, the air was thin, but the moon was bright over head.

"ལགས་སོ། ཁྱེད་རང་ཕེབས་བྱུང་།" A voice startled her as she jumped from the sound.

"Who are you?" She questioned. "Where am I?"

The man was still, he didn't seem to hear her, or maybe he didn't understand.

"ང་དང་མཉམ་དུ་ཤོག" The man turned and walked into a building that looked like some sort of temple. She stood there staring where the man used to be before he turned back. His even strides carried him right to her. "ངས་རང་ཉིད་ལ་བསྐྱར་ཟློས་མི་བྱེད།" The man's tone surprised her, she jumped to her feet, following him at a brisk pace.

Lanterns lit the walls of the hall, no doors or even windows could be seen. The two of them walked in silence for what seemed a half hour, but she couldn't tell. She tried to remember the path, but there were too many turns and steps to remember.

They stopped at an ornate circular red door, that was roughly twelve meters in diameter. Golden knots were carved expertly into the wood.

He stepped aside as if she was supposed to do something, but she didn't know what. So Marinette stepped forward and placed a hand on a golden vein.

A flash of golden light erupted from where her hand touched the wood, as it swung open on silent hinges.

She had turned away, in an attempt to shield her eyes.

"Welcome, child." A voice from inside was warm and she stepped forward.

She wanted to say something but thought better. Yes she understood this new voice, but the man before she still has no idea what he said. She just followed him and he led her here.

"Do not fear to speak child." The voice came from everywhere, echoing through the large cavern. What looked like an island garden sat in the middle. A giant oak tree with flowers blooming in complete darkness sat at this center. Chimes rang thought the branches without any wind.

"Who are you?" She finally asked, voice small, as she looked around. "Where am I?"

Chimes rang almost resembling laughter. "I am known as the supreme. As to where you are, you are with the Order of Miraculii, my child of creation."

"Order? Creation? Where is Tikki?" She started rambling questions in the hopes of at least one being answered.

"All will be answered in time." Chimes once again filled the cavern.

"སུའུ་晗་ང་ཚོའི་ན་གཞོན་སྲུང་མཁན་ལ་བཀའ་སློབ་གནང་རོགས།"

"ཁྱོད་ཀྱིས་བཀའ་གསུང་གནང་བ་བཞིན་དུ་ངའི་བླ་ན་མེད་" The man spoke with a bow, before placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her out of the cavern.

He led her to a room that was somewhere deep in the temple, at least she assumes it is. The room was simple, a four poster bed sat against the far wall. A desk was set next to it with a bookshelf that was carved into the wall above it. A dresser was next to the door, and a thick rug was spread underfoot.

"Tikki."

"Yes." The little god appeared in front of her with a poof.

"What’s going to happen now?"

"There is a lot for you to learn, but for now rest. The morning will come soon."

•••

Jason didn’t know why he left that night.

Scratch that he knew exactly why.

Bruce and Dick were arguing again, and no matter where he was at the manor he still heard them. But it wasn’t them it was Cathrine and Willis fighting for the uptenth time. So he did what he always did, he snuck out.

He was running roof tops trying and failing to get the voices out of his head. The weather was starting to change and a sludge of rain and snow fell around him. If only…

He shot out to grapple to the next building but with the semi frozen and slick exteriors the hook slipped. He began to free fall, as the line retracted, and everything was quiet. He heard his heart flutter then a sharp click. The line was back and he shot it again, this time it landed. He was yanked and thrown into a graceful arc before landing on another roof.

He stood in the middle of the high rise roof. Completely soaked but he didn’t care, he just wanted to stay in this quiet for a little while longer. He sneezed, breaking him from his stupor, sure the suit helped keep him relatively dry, but it didn’t do much for the cold, less still for his head that was completely out to the elements.

He kicked a few rocks that were strewn in the roof in an attempt to warm up, but stopped when some sort of metal glinted underfoot.

He reached down and found a ring, and when his fingers wrapped around the metal a flash of green illuminated the rooftop.

"Finally!" A nasally voice echoed around him. "I thought you were never going to notice it."

"Who are you?" He half whispered half yelped. "Show yourself." He reached for a batarang.

"No need kitten." A tiny cat like creature floated up to his eye level. "Names Plagg, and you are?"

He didn’t answer, he’ll he didn’t know if this was real or if he might actually be asleep. He gripped the batarang, feeling as it sliced through his glove straight to his hand.

"Not asleep." He whispered to himself. "So what are you?" He attempted to poke the creature with his finger, but it easily evaded him. It took hold of the ring and dropped it on to his finger.

"I am a kwamii, specifically of chaos and destruction." They puffed their chest, watching as the ring emanated a soft glow before it stopped. "And you are my kitten."

"I’m not your anything." He didn’t want to be involved with magic, it only seemed to cause problems, if the reports Bruce had was anything. "It started with that ring, right?"

"Yes an…" He didn’t let him finish speaking, he tried to pull the ring off, but it was gone.

"What did you do?" His attention snapped to the supposed god, or whatever it was.

It was about to say something when his vision started to blur. Something heavy slammed into his head. He felt himself starting to crumple forward, laughter ringing behind him.

When he woke up, Jason was tied and laying face first in a dingy old storeroom or maybe a warehouse. There wasn’t much light except for three industrial lights towards the center of the room. And under the furthest one was the silhouette of a person.

"Is the birdie awake?" The voice was tinged with laughter, it sent chills down his spine. He knows who that voice belongs to.

I’m sorry.

"Let’s have some fun now!" Joker came into his view and then he noticed the item in his hand, but he couldn’t stop him. The crowbar swung down and it connected with his upper arm. He was thrown into a box to his right. The next hit was to his stomach, as he coughed up blood.

I’m sorry. He heard again, but Joker didn’t react to it. So he knows Plagg is in his mind.

Stop apologizing and talk. He thought, and he did.

Plagg told him a story. He tuned out best he could, but it was difficult whenever he would be thrown around. It even felt like Plagg was holding his breath at times, waiting for his attention to continue.

"Well it’s been fun, Boy Blunder, but you should go to bed. Don’t forget to brush your teeth and say hello to the Big Bad Bat." He left him there in a heap on the floor, a ringing his ears silenced everything except for Plagg.

"Come on, get up! Please!" He saw Plagg flying in frantic circles over a box.

"There is a bomb, and…" Plagg placed two paws on his forehead before flying back, to where the bomb must be. "You will live, Kitten, I swear it."

A flash of green and black rolled over him, yet the blast of air did however destroy the building they were in. But he saw Plagg fly back to him. He felt him curl into his hair, his purring rhythmic, as he began to loose consciousness.

"What a waste." He felt someone turn him over. Changing the path of the blood on his face to stream into his mouth. It tasted like iron, and dirt, and it burned his throat. "I will see you when you awaken."

His world went black, Plagg’s put was a constant rumble. The next time he opened his eyes it was dark, Plagg was on his chest staring at him, his green eyes glowing in the dark.

Steady breaths kitten. Plagg’s voice echoed in his mind, as he tried to explain what was happening. You’re in a coffin.

"How!?" He began to panic, but Plagg began purring which calmed him.

You need to stay calm, you can get out. Focus my power.

I don’t know how. He thought, not risking wasting the little air he had.

The ring on your finger is a focus for power. Do you feel the space my presence takes up within your mind?

He searched concentrating on Plagg’s voice and presence in his mind. Yes.

Good. Now pull that towards the ring. He pulled at it but there was a resistance, like a rubber band being stretched too far.

Slowly. He made the connection and his palm glowed with a faint black and green light. Now touch the area in front of you.

He did and as soon as he did the rubber band snapped back. But a hole big enough for him to pass though was above him, along with a foot of dirt above it. He was tired but he tried again. It was harder this time, but he managed. He touched the top of the dome, but only a few inches disappeared this time. He was about to try again when Plagg stopped him.

Don’t kid! You’re exhausted. Channeling magic requires energy along with training it, like any other muscle. We have to dig the rest of the way.

Fine. He huffed.

The ground was wet and soft from all the rain. But he knew if he didn’t hurry that would be an obstacle. It was starting to freeze. That’s how he knew he was getting close to the surface. Plagg had been moving the dirt into the casket, allowing him to stand. Yet he flew up to him this time with a broken piece of wood, and he knew just what he needed it for. He finally broke through the surface and pulled himself up. He laid back, legs still in the hole, but he stared at the cloudy sky, taking giant gulps of air.

"I knew you could do it, Kitten." Plagg stiffened and his hackles rose before disappearing. Guard yourself.

What do you mean?

"You were quicker than I thought." A feminine voice carried through the cemetery. He stiffened, knowing what Plagg was warning him of. "Now let us be off."

Someone grabbed him and he tried to fight them, but he was exhausted and they weren’t.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist:

@jennifer-rose123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @joydone07 @mizzy-pop @starling218 @crystalqueertea

[ekat-fandom-blog]

Don't Mix

Danny was super excited. He was going to meet his favorite vigilante today. He'd met so many other heroes - even his favorite, Martian Manhunter - but now he was going to meet the anti-hero vigilante Red Hood. He was practically vibrating on the kitchen island in mount justice from how excited he was.

"D-1 Red Hood" the announcement rang loud enough for Danny to catch it with his enhanced hearing.

Bolting up, Danny raced to the zeta entrance to meet the newly arrived vigilante. He stopped and stared at the man. He was taller than he'd expected. A thread of trepidation started nagging at him at the back of his mind.

"Hi! I'm Phantom! It's really cool to meet you!" Danny said cheerfully, floating over to shake his hands. The feeling got stronger the closer he got to the other until it was practically a roaring screech to get away.

"Hey," Red Hood replied, shaking Danny's hand.

Then, all Danny could see and feel changed from what was happening to how he'd died and come back to life. It felt worse than he remembered. The full force of electricity and two dimensions ripping a hole in both Danny and the dimensions while simultaneously stitching back together wrong. He didn't know how long it would take for the portal to spit him back out.

~

Jason, meanwhile, was going through something similar. He was drowning in bright toxic green, struggling to escape. It burned. It was going to re-kill him if he didn't get out quick enough. He couldn't breathe

~

Dick was just stepping out of the zeta beam when he heard two screams in front of him. He took quick stock of his surroundings before determining that there wasn't anyone bleeding. There were just two screaming boys to deal with and no idea what the problem was.

Dick rushed to separate them and asked, "What's wrong? What happened? Are you two ok?"

They stopped screaming and started taking labored breaths, shuffling away from each other.

What in the world happened before he got there?

~

Note: The idea here is that ecto and lazarus water doesn't mix very well and react very violently when forced into contact. Lazarus water isn't ecto in any form, they just do not like each other. Like how hydrogen peroxide and bleach don't like each other. What happened above is that that explosive reaction caused them to relive the moment the ecto and lazarus fused with them.

Fun question to take away from the angst I might have just caused: What would happen if you took this idea and turned it into a fun science experiment for any number of our lovely mad scientists? (Whether it's just experimenting with samples of ecto and lazarus water or human experimentation is up to you.)

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Eight

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: None.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

It's the last day the crew will be spending on the island, and the men have left you in the bar while they load the supplies onto the ship. You don't mind, as you're mending some of their torn clothes while chatting with Cerise, the woman who owns the bar. Cerise is well-informed about the Red Haired Pirates. At least, that's what you surmise from her familiarity and jokes with the crew. The Red Force has stopped on this island before, and their faces are well known in these parts.

Setting Yasopp’s now-mended sash aside, you move on to Lucky’s favorite striped shirt. He owns many striped shirts, as you’ve discovered doing the laundry, but how he’s chosen this one as his favorite is beyond you. Perhaps it’s because of the stain at the bottom; none of his other shirts have a stain like it. Or perhaps it's the most worn in and feels nice against his skin. You can’t figure it out, no matter how long you ponder the topic, and simply deduce it to be a male thing. Or perhaps a pirate thing?

“Certainly not in my repertoire,” you softly say, reaching for a thread color in the set you’ve been provided that best matches the stripes. Lucky Roux is fortunate that his shirt has ripped at the edge of one of the stripes; you can easily hide the repair with your skill set. At least your mother’s intensive needlework lessons are finally coming in handy. There’s something therapeutic about repairing clothing, far more so than mindlessly stitching on a circle loom in some fancy design that will never see the light of day. You like feeling useful around the ship; it makes you feel less guilty about being there in the first place. “I told them I only needed passage, not a place to live on board their ship.”

“Oh, they’d never give passage to a woman in distress and then just drop her off at the nearest port,” Cerise comments, walking over while drying her hands with a towel. “I’ve known those boys for twenty-some-odd years. Shanks isn’t letting you go free because he knows you still need help.”

You pause in your mending, lowering your hands to your lap while contemplating her words. She has a point. Shanks is an honorable man and wouldn’t just ditch you the moment he’d completed what you had asked of him. He hadn’t even wanted to take your pendant as payment! Yes, he took you on board and kept you with him and his crew for three weeks without asking for a single thing.

“I feel like I can take care of myself,” you state, your eyebrows pinching ever so slightly. “I am not well-versed in living by myself, but I am not an invalid nor am I entirely naive to how our world works. All I needed from them was safe passage off Kuri Island, nothing more.”

“You are under the assumption that you have to do everything yourself, Aria,” Cerise wisely informs you, observing you sitting regally on a barstool. Your posture stands out and clearly marks you as someone who doesn’t belong in her bar. “Do you want some advice from an old woman who’s seen a thing or two?”

“I would be honored,” you reply, giving her your full attention. If anything, you know that Cerise’s words are both law and religion to be heeded by everyone in Ingles. When she speaks, you listen.

“The Red Haired Pirates are pirates at heart. The sea is their calling, and they will never be tied down by anything or anyone.” Cerise starts in a frank tone. “They’re fully capable of taking care of themselves, cleaning up after their messes, and mending their own clothing.” Her chin nods to the shirt in your lap. “The only reason why they’re letting you clean up and take care of them is because they want you to feel comfortable on the ship, and if that means you’re doing their laundry and mending their clothes, so be it.”

“They’re… letting me…?” you repeat, trying to control your tone and voice so you don’t show off how upset you are to know this. You want to pull your weight on the ship! Not do things because they let you!! Cerise can see the way your eyes flash in anger and teeth grind together. You’re quite good at controlling your emotions, but she has decades of experience reading people. Leaning against the bar, she pats your hand gripping your water glass.

“Don’t take that the wrong way, missy. They might be pirates, but they are gentlemen, and no woman is going to be cleaning up after them because it’s a societal expectation.” You purse your lips and breathe out through your nose, reigning in your temper.

“I’m essentially freeloading aboard their ship, eating and drinking their supplies, using their facilities and bed… and the only reason why I think I’m pulling some of my weight is because they are allowing me to do so?” Your face is painfully hot and your mind is seething. It’s not quite betrayal material to you, but your heart is very much injured by this knowledge. Is there anything in your life that you are doing because you want to and not because someone else is allowing you to do it?

“Now don’t be getting upset that the gentlemen want to be gentlemen,” Cerise tutts at you sternly. “Besides, it won’t do to have you jump right into an independent life. You’ll get overwhelmed and get yourself into trouble. Sea Lord knows you’ve got the beauty for it. They’re easing you into your new life in a responsible way. You’re lucky to have encountered as honorable men as they are.”

“I just wanted to be treated like every other person,” you say dejectedly, dropping your head into your hand and pushing your nails into your scalp. Cerise hums at you and goes back to cutting up slices of lime and lemon for the night rush.

“Oh dear, they are,” she states. “They treat everyone with the respect that is expected and earned. It is nothing personal to you and your situation. Let them help you, and sneak in things to help them. Just don’t get caught.” You eye the older woman at her last comment.

“Are you telling me to sneak behind their backs?” Cerise shrugs and waves her paring knife around.

“They’re men, not always the brightest in situations and can be too stupid to take care of themselves at times.” You can agree with that statement. You watched Hongo argue with Lucky Roux over a cut he’d gotten trying to juggle knives. It took three days before the cook finally relented to putting a simple bandage on it so it didn’t get infected. “It’s also our job as women to mother them, make them remember that they aren’t invincible, and that having someone take care of them is just as rewarding as it is for them to take care of us. Give and take, girl, no one has to do everything by themselves.”

“You have a point, but the most I can do is sew.” Your sewing skills are actually pretty well-honed… but where does sewing have a place on a ship besides mending clothing? “I don’t even know how to cook.”

“Well, that’s a place to start: learning to feed yourself,” Cerise muses, eyes flickering to the faded oak clock hanging above the bar. It’s seen its fair share of drunk bar fights and revelry. It even weathered being knocked off the wall a time or two. “Tell you what, Aria,” Cerise starts, head tilted to the side in contemplation. “Dinner rush isn’t for another two hours. You come back with me and I’ll put you through my mother’s ringer.”

“Your mother’s ringer?” you repeat in confusion.

“Aye, culinary boot camp.”

Tears stream down your face, welling from your eyes and dripping down your cheeks as you struggle to continue with your lesson. But your eyes sting so bad! You’re fairly certain at this point that what Cerise has you doing could be utilized for torture, not cooking purposes. Who knew simply cutting this root vegetable would cause so much pain and tears?

“Ow,” you weakly mutter, rubbing your watery eye for the thousandth time with the back of your hand. Even with your eyes watering so heavily that it looks like you have been sobbing, you are still persistent in finishing cutting up the onions Cerise has planted in front of you and ordered you to chop.

They all have to be cut a certain way, she told you, showing you the basic knife skill with the first onion of your lesson. It didn’t look hard, and you actually felt comfortable holding the knife, that is until the sting in your eyes bloomed and the tears came. Oh, how it burned, and oh, the look Cerise gave you when you paused in your chopping. A strict teacher she is.

“The faster you cut, the quicker the tears will leave,” she told you, standing across the table from you and chopping vegetable after vegetable without so much as a stutter. You are in awe at how fast she can chop vegetables, barely even glancing at the produce she is cutting. On the bar menu tonight is an Ingles town soup made from vegetables and lamb, the staple meat on the island. According to the bar mistress, a large batch is made, and once it is gone, it is gone.

It is quite the popular soup among the regulars, meaning the bar is going to be packed and the drinks flowing. So you continue cutting these damn onions until you have no tears left in your body, and then continue cutting. She might be teaching you how to cook, but you are eager to contribute and pull your weight for once… and that apparently means cutting an endless amount of onions. You’ll get good at cutting onions by the end of this at least.

Additionally, you can learn to wield a blade by learning how to cook, so you wouldn’t be entirely defenseless before you learn how to defend yourself. It’s not exactly a sword, but a knife is better than a hairpin. Blinking several more tears away from your eyes, you focus back on the onion you are currently chopping. Chop. Peel. Slice. You have to constantly remind yourself to focus on where your blade is going. The three nicks you have on your fingers are proof of that.

Shifting your grip on the knife, you finish chopping the onion and gather the slices to drop into the large bowl next to you. Grabbing the next onion, because Cerise happily dumped another basket of onions next to you, you repeat the same process as you had before.

“Not to be rude, but how is this teaching me how to cook?” you ask, tilting your head to the side as you peel the halved onion in front of you. Cerise chuckles at your words and lifts a large bowl full of cut vegetables to dump it in an even larger pot.

“Chopping vegetables is a large part of cooking easy meals on ships,” Cerise explains. “Get you comfortable with knives, and that’s one hurdle that won’t hold you back. Prepping ingredients is also a good idea. It keeps your kitchen clean and saves time. I’ve got a soup and stew book I’ll give you. I taught you everything you need to know to cook the recipes in the book earlier, and I’m sure that by watching Lucky Roux, you can pick up more skills.”

“Well, I think I can manage to cook scrambled eggs,” you admit, wondering how many eggs you have cracked by now. At least you’ve gotten good at doing that. “Lucky lets me crack the eggs in the morning before Shanks is up, sometimes lets me cook the precooked breakfast sausage. I burned myself on the cooktop once, and he forbade me from going within three paces of it for a week after that.”

“Aye, told you the men were protective. You just have to be firm with them and they’ll eventually see reason,” Cerise says while lighting the giant stove beneath the equally giant pot. The kitchen is soon filled with the soft crackles of vegetables sautéing. While the older woman fusses over the cooking vegetables, you finally cut up the rest of the onions without further incident, much to the relief of your fingers and eyes. You carry the bowl of onions over the large pot and drop the sliced onions into the pot to be cooked as well.

“So, I understand everything you’ve taught me about soups and stews, and you’re going to give me a few books to read… but seasoning is a large part of cooking, and I don’t even know what half the spices are in Lucky’s cabinet.” Your nose wrinkles at the picture of Lucky’s spice cabinet. He keeps it meticulously organized and alphabetized. That’s helpful when learning, but it doesn’t help you in using such spices. “Do I just taste them raw and see what goes well flavor-wise?”

“If you like bad flavor,” she answers dryly before turning to face you. “In your case, I’d suggest following recipes and noting what spices are in them to develop the flavor profile. Then, when you are comfortable, you can start dabbling. Like, mint goes well with artichoke, and cumin with chicken. It’s about what you like. What did you like to eat growing up?” Your brain freezes for a moment.

Freedom of food choice is still a novel idea to you. You don’t know what you like or dislike because your mother fed you what she decided. You have a few food items that you positively loathe due to your mother, but you’ve never had the luxury of deciding to eat or not eat something based on flavor and like alone.

“I… don’t really know,” you admit with a soft shrug of your shoulders. “My mother controlled my diet until I left three weeks ago. I don’t have many memories of foods that I enjoyed eating. It was mostly out of necessity.” Cerise hums in understanding and pauses to think. She has a basic understanding of your situation thanks to a quick word from Shanks. Hongo is trying to ease your stomach into new foods so you don’t get sick like you did the first week on board the Red Force. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have small bites here and there.

“I’d suggest that you try bites of food from different dishes to see what you like and don’t like then, Aria. Not big bites, mind you, sneaky ones so you don’t get Shanks or Hongo on the up and up… but just enough to taste.” That’s actually a good idea. Nodding your head in agreement, you smile, pleased that you have a plan for once. You feel better about staying on the Red Force now. The idea of leaning on the men for help is still difficult for you, but learning to cook puts wind back in your sails.

Date Published: 1/20/24

Last Edit: 7/29/24

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[wangxianficrecs]

The Winner Takes It All by YilingSani

The Winner Takes It All

by YilingSani (@yiling-sani)

M, 46k, Wangxian

Summary: "Wei Ying doesn't know why he ended up on this exact island. All he knows is that he's scared, alone and hungry. And with a child." ----- 18 years later Wei Yuan has grown into a proper young man, helping his Baba to run the hotel on the island. On the week of his wedding, Wei Yuan comes across Wei Ying's diary and decides to invite the man mentioned in it to the island, unaware of the consequences it will bring. Kay's comments: I never knew that I needed a MDZS Mamma Mia AU until I started reading this story. I have never even watched Mamma Mia (I know, shame on me, what kind of gay even am I), but I was so hooked on this story. So hooked in fact, that I read it first as it was published as a thread fic and then once again once it updated on AO3 and I could still hardly wait for the updates. The drama, the heartbreak, the angst, the found family! All of it was such a delight. The angst hit especially hard in this story and for the longest time, as a reader, you're wondering whether you even want Wei Ying and Lan Zhan to get back together again, but it all works out in the end without being a magical fix-it. Highly recommended. Excerpt: Granny Wen extends a hand to brush away a strand from the young man's face, but the moment her fingers touch his forehead, she feels the heat coming from the boy. He's running a fever. It would be inhuman to leave the boy to fate, so Granny Wen nudges him awake. Once the silver eyes open, they immediately fill with fear, and the boy draws deep into the corner, looking like a frightened deer. "It's alright," the woman speaks softly. "I won't hurt you." The silver eyes are puffy and red-rimmed - it's clear that the young man has cried himself to sleep. "It's alright," Granny Wen repeats. "You’re safe. I’m Granny Wen. What's your name?" "W-Wei Ying," the boy's voice is hoarse, his throat dry as a dessert. "Are you from the mainland?" she asks the next question, and the boy nods. She notices how the boy's hands are placed protectively on his belly and she frowns. "How old are you?" "Seventeen." Seventeen.

pov alternating, modern setting, modern no powers, mpreg, single parent wei wuxian, inspired by mamma mia!, one night stands, first time, unplanned pregnancy, traumatic childbirth, post-traumatic stress disorder, ptsd, illnesses, chronic illness, teen pregnancy, panic attacks, angst with a happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, families of choice, no jiang cheng & wei wuxian reconciliation, background character death

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[fredmundo]

below the break is the first chapter of my oshamir fic. i don't know if it's any good. i've been too depressed to edit and work on it since the news so here it is.

any feedback, comments, interaction, whatever would be so appreciated and loved. i think i just need to post this here, in a space that loved this series along with me to hopefully inspire me to write the other 8 chapters i plotted lol

please forgive any errors but feel free to send corrections to my inbox

so yeah, untitled oshamir fic ch. 1

Osha thought there would be a heaviness to her steps when she walked onto the Stranger’s ship. This ship was to carry her away from Mae, away from her home. It was to bring her to the island and a galaxy of unknowns. 

Osha had always hated the unknown, hated feeling unsure in her place growing up on Brendok, never quite feeling herself or like she belonged to herself. The feeling of unease never unfurled from her chest while she was at the academy. So she dreaded its arrival now on this ship, with the dangerous man.

But it never came. 

Osha had chosen this, freely. That grip on her chest never tightened when she thought about the Stranger and her agreement to train with him.

There was no fear burrowed in her heart but there was guilt and anger as they pulled away from the ground and entered the atmosphere.

Brendok was irrevocably stained once again. Stained with blood and the sour taste of hate.

Osha clicked on the com that she had earlier turned off. “What do I call you?” There was a twinge to her voice that she hated. She didn’t want to care that she had killed Sol, broken his heart with her mind. She wanted freedom. 

“Qimir. You may call me Qimir.” There was a crackle and pop sound in the comms that Osha made a mental note to look into when they returned to the island.

“Not Master?” The vitriol leaked into her words. She didn’t want to call him Master, didn’t want to be owned in such a way, under his power and control.

“Qimir will be fine.” It sounded like he was smiling.

“Okay. Qimir.” Osha tested the word, how it felt against her lips, on her tongue. “Where are we going?”

“Back to the planet. We will rest. Then we will train.”

That’s it? That’s all the information he was giving her? Frustration bled into her. 

Brzzt. Osha shut the comms off again. 

The waves crashed against the walkway, soaking stone beneath her boots. She hadn’t waited for the Stranger– Qimir. The weight of her choices suddenly felt like too much. 

She stared out at the sea, the violent waters that crashed against cliff sides and shores. She wanted to believe that she had only just opened her soul to these negative feelings, the anger and fear and desire, but she knew that was a lie.

Osha was born with this in her. 

Beneath the Bunta tree had always felt like a place of solace, of freedom, where Osha could be without prying eyes and expectation. The yellow leaves hung like curtains, swaying in the breeze. A blue and red Brendoki Flutterby flew in front of her. It seemed to dance on the wind with a freedom that Osha could only dream about.

Today was to be her and Mae’s Ascension. Mae couldn’t wait, she burned with the desire to be a witch and to be just as Mother Korril and Mama had hoped. Osha knew she didn’t want to be a witch, and didn't want to be constrained to a set of rules that felt like a hand around her throat.

She wanted what that flutterby had. And she hated the creature at that moment.

Osha reached out, pulling on the thread, and held that tiny creature still. It was at her mercy. What she willed, would be. 

But she didn’t want to deprive another creature its freedom like her was to be. She released her hold on the flutterby.

The sound of boots on the wet stone approaching her roused Osha from her memories.

Qimir slowly approached Osha where she stood at the edge of the water. While the planet was small, the island more so, Qimir knew he would feel drawn to her power on the biggest planet in the galaxy. 

He would feel her across the galaxy. She had quickly become intertwined in his being; the thread of the force tying them together.

Qimir stood near Osha now. Not as close as he wished to be but as close as he dared without any indication from her that his proximity was welcomed. When their eyes finally met, the thread that bound them together tugs him closer. He cannot help but be drawn into her orbit. 

He stepped closer until they were almost shoulder to shoulder. He reached out slowly, careful, and he dared to touch her. Qimir wrapped his hand, that monstrous thing that killed her friends and former teachers, that would kill again, around her own and the lightsaber she earned from Sol. His thumb dragged across her soft skin. 

Both their eyes turned to look out at the horizon, the sun above and the sea below them. The thread taut between them.

He had known. Known that she didn’t need his words or guidance at that moment. Known that what she needed was to be seen and accepted.

Osha knew that he could see her, could see that warring her spirit between who she had been told to be her entire life and who she was choosing to be.

So he didn’t say a word, just looked at her. He never looked away from her. As soon as he had seen her, dressed as Mae, coming into that damned apothecary, Qimir knew he wasn’t going to look away. He could feel a kinship in her through the force. He could feel her power. 

“KRIFF!” Osha roared in frustration from where she laid. The soft grass of the plateau they were training on had concealed a stone that now dug into her shoulder.

“Your stance is good but you are fighting too much like a jedi, too controlled.” His easy voice, buttery, normally would be welcomed but with her back jabbed by a rock, his voice felt grating.

Growling out, “aren’t you supposed to be fixing that?”

They’d been training every day for the last few weeks, since returning to this planet, Osha did not know the name of it, it wasn’t charted as far as the Republic was aware. Every day, Osha wound up on her back, having failed to best Qimir. Though, her stamina was returning and the feeling of a weapon, even if it was just a wooden staff, had stopped feeling foreign to her.

“Getting rather angry, Osha.” He draws out the sounds of her name, pulling at her seams with that elongated second syllable. He clicked his tongue, tutting at her for her rage. He knew the more he picked at her, the angrier she would get. He wanted her to unleash herself from the cage she insisted on putting herself in.

The sound of his tongue clicking, as if he disapproved of her emotional outburst, brought only more anger to the surface. Osha shoved up from the earth, picked up that sparring staff. Her grip was a vice, knuckles white, as she took her stance. Normally, this is where Sol would’ve scolded her, told her to cool her mind of the fire that burned her now. 

But Qimir liked the fire, asked for her to burn him, too.

“O-sha,” the insolent man continued to tease her. Goading her into striking him.

Moving fast, Osha closed the distance between them, striking out with anger, something she was told to never do. She let it fuel her strikes against Qimir. He moved easily to block her but she was also able to block the counterstrike he threw at her. 

“Good, Osha.” His voice had lost that teasing lilt and was now filled with pride. He stepped back, signaling to her to pause in her attacks. “But you need to be–” She struck at him again, feeling a rush of exhilaration at his barely having blocked the blow in time.

“Unpredictable?” She continued to strike, moving to control the momentum of the fight, pushing him in the direction she wanted, toward the plateau’s edge. 

Of course, he determined her goal. With whatever strength he’d buried, he quickly turned the tides against Osha. He kept her on her back foot, pushing her back across the plateau. 

With a strong final series of moves, Qimir hooked his own staff around hers and twisted, and Osha’s staff was ripped from her grip. But he didn’t stop at disarming her, with another move he brought the staff behind her left knee pulled. Her stance now wider than comfortable, unbalanced, he easily took her feet out from under her and Osha’s back met the hard earth again.

Another rock found its home in her spine. “Kriff! Gods! You nerf-herder, bastard!” Osha cursed up at Qimir, who was laughing.

“Quite the mouth on you. Not very Jedi of you.” The tease was back in his voice. He laughed lightly, there was affection for Osha that she was unused to.

“I worked on starships for 6 years. Cursing is a job requirement.” She reached under her and grabbed the offending rock and threw it at him. He of course, dodged it, a smile still plastered on his handsome face.

Yes, in her own thoughts, at least, Osha could admit that Qimir was beautiful. With a jawline that sharp it would be hard to believe that he could look soft, that his eyes could be anything but filled with anger. But now, they were bright with subtle crinkles, sunlight bouncing off his perfect tanned skin. 

“That was much better.” He turned that perfect smile in her direction, offered her a hand.

“I still ended up on my back.” Osha didn’t feel like it had been all that better of a showing. Her back was definitely going to show bruises. 

“Yes,” he righted her onto her feet. While he dropped her hand, he didn’t move to step away from her. His right hand lifted and pulled grass from her locks. “But you fought without restraint. You ignored whatever combat rules the Jedi pretend exist.” His eyes move around her face and head, checking that she is free of earth, before locking with her eyes. 

He still hasn’t moved back.

Qimir knew he should step away from her. She often sought out space, having grown comfortable with isolation after her years as a mechnic, but he couldn’t bring himself to just yet. Staring into her dark brown eyes that Qimir could swear contained stars with how bright they shined after a bit of praise slipped across her skin. Or when she felt powerful and strong. 

Qimir found himself waiting for these moments of closeness with Osha, moments where she wasn’t so guarded. 

But he wouldn’t push, wouldn’t risk her abandoning him. He could’ve handled Mae leaving him, there was never this level of connection. He had seen her anger and thought there was more to her but he now knew that he was simply waiting for Osha. Whatever depth he had seen in Mae was just Osha, through the force and the way they’d been made. 

But she is still just looking at him. 

He still doesn’t move away. The hand that had been clearing grass from her hair now bravely moves to cup her cheek. His thumb lightly brushed across her cheekbone and soft, brown skin. 

If he could live in this moment, he would. “You should never cage yourself, Osha. The Jedi saw your power and were afraid of it and did everything they could to erase entire parts of you. But you shouldn’t continue their work. You deserve freedom.”

Her heart raced, breath pumped into her body and he spoke. It was like Qimir could look through her, into her. He understood her and he encouraged her.

You deserve freedom. That was all Osha has ever longed for. Since beneath the Bunta tree, to the academy, to working as a mechnic, and now in this moment. Osha craved freedom.

“We should wash. And I would like to check your injuries from today.” Osha nodded at him and finally took a step back from him. 

He gathered the staffs and his bag that seemed to go with him everywhere. He moved toward the path down, toward the beach and tide pools. 

“Qimir,” Osha called and he paused and turned. “I do want freedom. I don’t want to be,” Osha mulled over the word he had used. Caged. Had the Jedi really done that to her? Put her into a box and locked her away? Had Sol? She felt the word drop out, the sentence she had meant to finish. 

He smiled at her but it was almost sad like he could see that she was struggling with the realization that she had been hurt by the Jedi. “Come on, Osha.” She could almost feel him saying, save that for another day.

Osha followed him, lengthening her strides to catch up and walked next to him.

The water of the pools was cool but not cold and it felt like heaven against her skin. Qimir had entered the pool first, swimming straight ahead and never looking back toward Osha, giving her privacy to undress.

Qimir didn’t need privacy. He liked to feel her eyes on him while she desperately tried to not let her gaze linger. 

Now the water lapped at her back, the skin warmer with injury was now cooled and it took most of Osha’s concentration not to moan at the relief. Osha worked through her routine now, letting her focus shift from the man in the water to herself. Dunking herself under the water, wetting her hair and working what was left of her soapstone through her hair and across her body. Ensuring a thick, even coat of soap across her hair, she dunked under the cool waters once again and shook her hair, spreading out like a jellyfish’s tentacles, floating through the water.

Osha always thought of her mother when she washed her hair, and remembered the peaceful moments of her childhood when her mother had taught her how to care for her hair. Mother had always shown her that pride and care of oneself wasn’t a bad thing but a beautiful thing. Since having left the Jedi, Osha had been trying to relearn this and relearn how to value herself. At the academy, they teach you to lose yourself, not to take pleasure in small acts of self gratitude and expression. 

They don’t do this to be evil though it is sometimes still the case. They discourage any affection to your life before the academy and for Osha that meant losing a thread to her mother and herself. 

Now, here in this water, hair washed, as Osha floated in the water, she let herself feel connected to her mother in a way she hadn’t felt for sometime. 

Osha missed her mother more than ever now. She missed her mother’s soft hands when they would plait her hair just so to match with Mae. She missed her mother’s encouraging voice as she would walk Osha and Mae through their training. She would give anything to hear her voice again, soft and silky with a touch of smoke.

Her final moments with her mother had been bittersweet. But she was grateful to have gotten to be wrapped in her arms one last time.

Before she was killed.

“Osha,” Qimir’s voice skimmed across the water, “are you okay?” The sound of water sloshing as he slowly made his way over to where Osha swam.

Osha nodded, turned to face him, not knowing tears coating her face until she locked onto his eyes. His brow scrunched in concern and his mouth opened slightly at the sight of pain. “I’m alright. Just thinking about my mother.”

He still swam closer. “Tell me about her.”

This pulled at something in Osha. She’d never been encouraged to speak about her. Sometimes, while at the academy, she had been afraid that she would forget her mother entirely.

But here was this man, deadly and full of emotion, everything the Jedi had warned against, and yet, he met her with a kindness she hadn’t expected.

So she does. She tells Qimir about her mother, everything she can think of from how she looked and walked, to the power she could command, to sneaky trips out for spice creams and how much she wishes she wasn’t dead so that Osha could tell her that she was right.

And Qimir listens. Floating there in the water, getting wrinkled for how long he lets Osha ramble, and he laughs with her at happy stories, and lets Osha work through her pain at the hard moments when her voice lodges in her throat.

When they finally climbed out of the pool, the sun rose just past its apex in the sky. They’ve only just reached the cave but Osha doesn’t get settled like they usually do. Normally, Osha will rest or write, like she did when she was a child, and Qimir will craft cortosis armor. But today, Osha drops her training equipment and trades them for tools.

With the tools, Osha turned to head out to the ship, wanting to get to work before the path became obscured under the waves.

Qimir noticed that Osha wasn’t taking her usual spot on the mat and opening her journal.

A spike of fear erupted in his chest, “where are you going?” Qimir wouldn’t stop her from leaving him, wouldn’t deny her freedom of choice. But Gods, he was afraid to lose her, afraid to be alone. He followed her out the cave but not down the path.

“I noticed a popping sound in the ship’s communications that I wanted to fix.” She didn’t fully turn around, just through the reasoning back at him over her shoulder.

Oh. That was a relief to Qimir. Slightly embarrassed that his immediate thought was that he was being abandoned, betrayed.

“Fixing the communications systems,” he gave a breathy laugh, “I would’ve thought that you’d be sick of the sound of my voice by now.” He smiled, remembering her cheeky muting of him during their first passage to Brendok.

“Yes, well,” she was shouting back at him, having turned as she still made her way down the path toward the ship, “who says I’m not?” She smiled brightly at him. Turned and continued on her way.

She hadn’t brought anything with her except her tools. Not even her saber. She wasn’t going to leave him, at least not today. Qimir let himself be soothed by the thought. He returned to the desk where he worked to forge her a gauntlet of cortosis.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 3

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: None I think

Bull-headed

The wild, red hair that sprouted from the man's head unmistakably belonged to Eustass Kid. Orange eyes aflame with rage glared at you as the man snatched the goggles you had discarded from the ground and placed them on his head. It was all coming together in your head. Of course you didn't recognize Killer. His face was normally hidden behind a shield of blue and white. The thing you had initially identified as a stupid looking colander was what remained of Killer's mask. It, along with Kid's goggles, must have been ripped from the two men in the tumultuous sea. 

You took a step back to put some distance between you and he. This wasn't the first time you had met these two particular pirates. The first time had been a very long time ago, when they were just starting out as pirates and you were just a cadet. For a moment you were nervous that he might recognize you, though with the right half of your face being disfigured since then, it was unlikely. In that brief meeting years ago, you had the upper hand. Sizing him up now though... If you were at your best, you still weren't sure you could take him. He was much smaller the last time you saw him. Well, as small as one Eustass Kid could be. Currently though, he was back up on his feet at his full height of 6'9" and he had a murderous aura about him, which snapped you to the present.

"Wait," you had your hands up in the universal gesture for 'I mean no harm' and I'm stalling for time.  "Without me, he'll die," you said, nodding your head in the direction of the Kid Pirates' first mate. It was sort of a lie. The truth was that he would probably be fine as long as he didn't get an infection and someone sewed him up soon. 

Kid looked at his crewmate and looked back to you. He looked like he was contemplating how true that really was. 

You continued, "I was going to get my first-aid kit when you..." There was a dull ache in your neck. "...pretty rudely attacked me for no reason."

Kid's lip curled. "FI-. Fine." He winced as his voice cracked. Kid massaged his Adam's apple and cleared his throat. "But if he dies, then you die." You could tell he kept his voice low to avoid another crack, but his demeanor didn't change. 

Turning, you wondered if he would use this opportunity to attack you again, but he must have believed you because you weren't being tackled or choked out. You could feel his smirk burning into your back, though, as you went to fetch your things. Wish I still had seastone bullets. What use is an emergency gun if the threat is a magnetic son of a bitch? It was your turn to glare. With narrowed eyes, you gave the middle finger in Mini's general direction. "Thanks for helping, you ass," you muttered. Some twigs snapped in response. 

It only took a minute to grab the things you needed and within 15 minutes you were back. The Red Menace was sitting next to Killer, cross-legged, with a jar tipped back into his mouth. Y/C/E flicked to the other empty jars on the ground next to him and your temper flared. "HEY! What in the hell do you think you're doing, helping yourself to my food?" For just a second, he looked like a boy who got caught with his hands in the cookie jar. 

A look of guilt flashed across his face before it was replaced with a scowl. "I was fucking hungry." 

Tossing your things to the ground next to Killer, you flopped down with a huff. "Yeah well. You better get used to it." Orange eyes watched you intently as you took out some sinew and a needle made from a tiny rib bones. Expertly, you threaded your needle and decided to start on the leg wound. It was still nice and clean under the cloth from earlier. You repositioned the flesh to properly plan your stitches. It was a little jagged, but it wouldn't be difficult. Plenty of time had passed on the island, you had your fair share of injuries with only yourself to fix them. Probably good thing he's out because this is gonna hurt a little. With deft hands, you worked at closing the gash. Your eyes flicked between what you were doing and Kid. His knuckles were white and he was craning his neck to watch what you were doing. "Can you do something other than hover? Something productive?" His scowl deepened at that so you were taking it as a "no". He wasn't making you nervous. Actually he was kind of annoying you. You finished stitching Killer's leg within the next few minutes and bit the excess off. Examining the finished product, you nodded, satisfied. 

A deep sigh left the captain across from you. Was he holding his breath? Is he really that worried? That's actually... Not what you expected. Cute even. Cute wasn't the right word. Refreshing, that even the ruthless Captain Kid seemed to care this much over his partner. For the first time, you noticed that along with the empty food jars, Kid had grabbed his first mate's broken mask too.

You shifted over to move behind Killer's head, gently lifting it to be propped up on your crossed legs and trying to sort through the blond mane to map the entirety of the laceration. God there's so much hair. "I think I might have to cut some of it away." You were talking to yourself, but you felt the giant next to you bristle.

"ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT." 

"I am right next to you. You don't have to yell." If your hands weren't occupied separating Killer's hair, you might have thrown them. You looked him up and down, with a scowl to match his own. "Seriously, go make yourself useful. Find something to eat, since you ruined my dinner." Naturally, your voice had authority in it. You did used to have a crew of your own after all. 

Kid must have picked up on it. "Oh? You know who I am and you still think you can give me an order?" His head was cocked to the side. 

You got your needle ready again, only briefly considering stabbing him, before starting to mend Killer's head. So he wants to play this game...  You planning on being nice and helping him, helping them both, by showing him what he could and could not eat. You weren't going to waste precious calories arguing. "Sorry... you're right." You sighed. "I'll finish up here and leave you to it." This island was lush, no doubt, but it took you a long time to figure out which things you could eat without shitting yourself silly the next day. It'll build character to let Eustass Kid struggle. You ignored him until you were done with the last stitches. "All set." 

You stood up and brushed yourself off. "I'll find you later so I can check on him. I don't need you hunting me down because his wounds got infected." You gathered your things into the sled that was still waiting from your excursion this morning. "Not to give you an order or anything, but you can put his clothes back on. I cleaned them." The wet clothes that Kid had been in earlier had long since dried with a thin, salty crust. 

"WHATEVER."

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Next

Since this story is based on my OC, here she is so you can have an idea of what reader's scars look like.

AO3 link

[murdocksdaughter]

the thread of the black and green

wedding tears - the prologue

warnings: mentions of death by child birth, mentions of grief word count: 512

Rhaenyra’s hand clenched in fury and humiliation, her best friend, Alicent, out of all people her father could marry. Why was he even remarrying? Did her mother even mean anything? The memory of her voice was still clear as day in her mind, at times Rhaenrya thought she still could hear her laugh bouncing off the walls. Tears pricked at her eyes, the stinging feeling turning into a burning sensation quickly. 

Her chest ignited, this is not how she imagined the wedding day of her best friend would unfold. It should be a joyous day, Rhaenyra thought she should feel joyous. But the nagging feel of dread filled her and caused her throat to close. Not only did she feel betrayed by her father, but she was losing Alicent. 

A tear slipped down her cheek as she watched her father cover Alicent's shoulders in the cape of the house Targaryen. She looked gorgeous in her white gown, the red lining so vibrant and the intricate detailing representing dragon wings on her shoulders complimented her. Rhaenyra bit the inside of her check remembering how she was tasked in helping Alicent into the dress. 

As both her father and Alicent rose from their knees, hand in hand. As they both descended down the steps of the sept. As the crowd cheered and hollered in celebration for the union of the King and his new Queen of the seven kingdoms. The realm's new sovereign mother, Alicent, image of poise and perfection. Rhaenyra missed her already. 

Her childhood was a lonely one, living with no one to share it with.The bond between her and Alicent felt sacred. Her island of peace from the world that surrounded her. As her mother Aemma lost child after child, only ever seen as a machine to create an heir. As Father struggled to control her roguish Uncle Daemon. And now that Rhaenyra is heir to the throne and woman, she was not keen on sharing either fates of her parents. 

Perhaps she could run to the island, Dragonstone, live away in isolation there until eventually she is forced to marry a man of her Father’s choosing, well more like The Hand’s choosing. Rhaenyra did love her father but she knew he was weak willed and more often than not political decisions were made by Otto Hightower. Ironically now the Queen’s father. 

Rhaenyra waved solemnly at the crowd of adoring subjects. As they screamed her name, the given name by the people. The Realm’s Delight. 

Usually she felt joy to hear it, knowing she was loved by the people she one day ruled. However today nothing sparked her interest. As her carriage followed behind that of her father and Alicent’s. More tears trickled down her face. They were painless, this cry was an effortless one. She in her procession carriage was far enough away from the crowds they could not tell their beloved princess had tears rolling down her soft features. And Rhaenyra was thankful for it. 

It was the only real thing she was thankful for today.