#7days7sentences

[likeaspeedingarrow]

Day 1: Salt

The salt air teases your hair, my fingers trapped in its embrace. My eyes catch yours, the golden sand reflects back at me, teeth like pearls nibbling on the corner of the mouth that encases them and freckles dot your flushed cheeks at random intervals. The birds call out our song even as my lips find the tip of your nose, a gasp escapes you. Your hand finds the back of my neck teasing the bun my hair is swept up into. Everything feels so right. You call me your wonder woman, but my dear you have always been my Supergirl, together we stand. Frozen in time.

If you prefer to read on Ao3 this can be found here

Thanks for reading and thank you for the prompt @bluewonderer <3

[onepieceloverandwriter]

@bluewonderer Thank you for sharing this challenge! I was finally able to write something after months of struggle! I look forward to writing for the next 6 days😊 I will be posting what I write for this challenge on AO3❤️

Day 01: Salt

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[fictionalurl]

I'm a day behind, but I had a ton of brainstorming to do! That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it :P

Here's my challenge version: I'm trying to do both 7 sentence challenges at the same time. That will probably mean being a little loose with the prompts, but I think it's honestly kind of easier to have more than one prompt to think about at a time!

This is effectively a totally original fic, but the characters are (I guess?) slight AU versions of the characters from... a different one of my original works (see the thorn twist in your side). That one's not finished yet, though, so I guess that won't mean anything to you yet!

(also they're probably like 13 here. I couldn't figure out a way to get that very specifically into the exposition because, you know, 7 sentence original fic is kind of limiting :P)

---

1. road trip + salt

"I think this is sleet, actually," Carter says, cheerfully launching into a lengthy explanation of the differences between winter precipitation types and exactly how dangerous she thinks each ought to make a drive over a twisty mountain pass in a beat-up old station wagon. In the back seat, Shae folds her arms across her unsettled stomach, feet tucked underneath her, lulled by the rhythm of Carter's chatter-chatter-chatter interspersed with her dad's dutiful sounds of vague acknowledgement as he drives: "mhmm," "right," "'course, hun." 

It doesn't seem to her like it matters what this is, really—sleet, hail, freezing rain—because no matter what words you use to describe it, the result seems like it'll be the same: they're going to be crawling up and down the narrow lanes of state highway whatever-the-heck at what feels like fifteen miles an hour, the car's motor wheezing like an asthmatic, until they break down and freeze to death, or slide off the road and freeze to death, or... something else involving freezing to death (the possibilities really seem endless).

Shae had been nervous about her first ski trip—maybe she'd be terrible at it; maybe her friends would all leave her behind on the training slopes, laughing at her, and she'd have to just sit in the lodge and drink hot cocoa and sulk—but at this point a comfortable, stationary place to sit and not be carsick sounds like heaven, and she says a little thanks to whatever god might be listening when Carter finally gets a momentary bar of cell service and finds them a little log-cabin-hotel-thing just off the highway.

As they enter their room and knock the snow off their boots, Carter's dad says something about waking up and setting off as soon the trucks come through with with salt for the roads, but Shae has other things on her mind: insulation is not a strong point of rustic cabin construction, she discovers with growing horror, and she's soon tangling herself in the too-thin blanket of her double bed with all of her clothes on, trying not to shiver, insisting that she's—fine, really, honest—

"...Shae, silly, c'mere," Carter whispers, though, only a few moments after they turn out the lights, raising up a corner of her blanket.

And... god, is it ever so warm to curl up next to her, not touching but almost, just listening to the sleet-or-hail-or-freezing-rain-or-whatever drumming quietly on the roof.

[thychesters]

for @bluewonderer’s #7days7sentences challenge! today’s prompt was song ft. franky and luffy. | day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6

Among the personal belongings Franky brings with him—of all the nuts and bolts, gaudy button up shirts that smell of pitch and tar—there is an old guitar. It’s battered and worn, something well loved, if not simply well used, half out of tune half of the time and clearly been refurbished once, twice, or a dozen times. For a while it sits amongst the rest of he things, surrounded by bits and pieces of projects yet to be aside from a glimmer in his mind’s eye, and for a while he pays it little mind.

But then the captain comes clambering after him after dinner one night, belly full and hunger sated, and his cheek presses against the smooth expanse of the railing where Franky has busied himself with watching the stars slowly peek out as the sky bleeds from blues to purples.

Luffy mumbles something and Franky inclines his head with a raised eyebrow, to which Luffy clears his throat and asks around a burp: “Can you play a song—on your guitar?”

For a moment he stares, and then he laughs, big and loud, and his fingers twitch, full of synthetic nerves and the memories of Kokoro telling him to raise the neck a little higher and Iceburg telling him to stop messing up the chords.

“Only if you’re cool with the two I can remember off the top of my head, Captain,” he says, and in Luffy’s laugh he can hear the resonance of Tom’s.

[onepieceloverandwriter]

Day 6: Wine

@bluewonderer writing challenge!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48517282

[thychesters]

for @bluewonderer’s #7days7sentences challenge! today’s prompt was wine ft. robin and luffy. | day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5

The weather is calm and the seas fair, waves lapping at the hull with gentle crests, and the growing presence of gulls serves as an indication they’re nearing the next island.  Robin sits quietly, legs folded before her and comfortable, casting Luffy a wry glance over the top of her book and watching his lips twist as she turns the page. They’re due for a supply run, and she’s due for another book or two or three to add to her collection—meanwhile, he’s due for his next adventure.

Luffy huffs and drops himself into the shade cast by the umbrella left before Nami vacated her chair in favor of returning to her maps, and Robin carefully marks her place before setting her book beside the wine glass Sanji just filled in a whirlwind, smelling of spices and the promise of dinner.

“Is there something on your mind, Captain?” she asks as she leans forward to fold her arms over her knees; Luffy sucks on his teeth and sits back on his haunches. Her fingers curl into her jaw, bone digging into the heel of her palm as she smiles and asks, “Would you perhaps like to play a game?”

“That depends,” he comes back with immediately along a slip of teeth, “are you a sore loser?”

[onepieceloverandwriter]

Day 5: Thunder

@bluewonderer writing challenge!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[bluewonderer]

heat

For the 7days7sentences writing challenge I issued!

Prompt: heat Fandom: One Piece Character(s): Nami (plus some Zoro and Luffy)

The chill snakes into her blankets and settles into her skin until she’s gasping between dreaming and waking and dreaming again. She rolls in the covers like rolling in a current, feeling her own cold skin even as she dreams of all the notes she wants to add to a map she hasn’t even started. She’s awake enough to feel the wind and hear the nearby crash of waves, but she’s also running over the old wooden floors of Bell-mère’s house, running from a childhood nightmare only to freeze on the threshold, staring wide-eyed into the gaping dark void of a bedroom she no longer remembers—

Her eyes fly open as she chokes on panic, nails scraping into her shoulder as she tries to will the rush of blood in her head to shut up so she can hear where Arlong might be, if he’s seen her yet—

And then, between one blink and the next, she’s finally awake and knows that she’s away from Arlong (but still not free). She’s on a little island with two scrappy boats and two scrappier boys with a burnt-out fire and a full belly, the souring taste of the wine she stole coating her teeth, salty wind in her nose, and the promise of morning rain prickling at the nape of her neck—far off, but coming all the same. 

She looks to Luffy’s blanket—he didn’t seem to acknowledge the chill earlier in the night, but he’d been the one to build their fire big and roaring, insisting that they dance and sing and eat and drink around it like they were just kids sneaking away from their village—like they were pirates. But his spot is empty, his blankets gone, and she swallows back the he left me, they left me, did they take my money? that grips her throat. She hasn’t known them long but knows that they would never do that because they’re both kind of terrible at being pirates. 

(At least, they’re terrible for her definition of being pirates. As long as they’re sailing toward the horizon, Luffy seems to think that they’re doing pretty well for themselves.) 

But no, Zoro’s here—she finds him easily by following his snores. Squinting in the starlight, she finds Luffy curled up against Zoro’s side, his blanket wrapped around him. 

That lazy ass had woken up cold but hadn’t fixed the fire, leeching off of Zoro’s heat and leaving her to freeze. She shivers again and stands up, hesitating at how she doesn’t hesitate at stalking over with her own blankets. She crawls over the boys, uncaring about her knees and elbows waking them up as she burrows into their warmth. It doesn’t bother them, anyway—Luffy’s body gives in a way that’d be disconcertedly uncanny if it wasn’t so damn convenient. Zoro’s body—already so tough and strong despite the boyhood clinging to his gangly limbs and rounded cheeks—doesn’t give at all. 

The cold doesn’t leave her right away, but she sighs as their warmth seeps into her skin and pulls her easily back into sleepy depths. 

In her dream, she stands at Bell-mère’s door and stares at the yawning darkness, surprised to find herself unafraid. 

Note: yeeeaaahhh... this is more than seven sentences. But I found myself being late writing and posting because I kept struggling to find something to write with just seven sentences because I wanted THIS to be it. So. I figured it was better to write than not write at all??

Anyway! I love the Romance Dawn Trio! My babies!