#Silent Mary crew

[fanficsbysenneres]

Chapter 18: Of Lieutenants and Losses

“You used to tell me that to face death was an honour. That standing with me on the deck of La María healed your losses…”

Lesaro snorted, but would not look at him.

“But that was a long time ago, no?” Salazar was rueful. “Yet I have not forgotten your words, that first day we sailed. You swore loyalty to me, Gui. You said that all the privileges of living in Seville were nothing compared to the privilege of sailing under your friend’s leadership –”

“Do not throw my words in my face!” Lesaro grimaced in disgust. “I am not that man anymore!”

Read from the beginning here.

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| ii. two| rough voice, gentle hands

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: smoking, blood, fire, mentions of nightmares, crying, treating wounds

↳ ❝ the battle of wanting to be a good person and the fire of revenge ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

Hobie felt as though he was suffocating. Sweat clung to him like a second skin against his flesh. Sleep eluded him every time he so desperately reached for it. The sway of the ship did not comfort him as it usually did. It did not lull him to sleep like being held in his mothers tender arms and rocked slowly into slumber. It did not hum in his ear the tune of his childhood and offer the respite of home.

He stared out of the window beside his bed. The moon was full and partly hidden behind pale clouds. It shone so softly on the calm waters and made it sparkle like silver under the light. His fingers traced imaginary shapes on his tummy to soothe the turbulent thoughts plaguing him. Closing his eyes was not an option. Closing his eyes meant being haunted by the sight of two pearls, white and glassy and dead. He wasn’t sure who they belonged to. You or his mother.

Anxiety ate away at Hobie. It carved pieces of his soul, whittled away at the contours of his being with the intent to leave nothing behind. He trembled as if he were cold but the thin film of sweat layering his body said otherwise. Nights like these were not uncommon. If he wasn’t having a nightmare about his mother, he couldn’t sleep at all. He wasn’t sure which he preferred, if any.

Hobie sat up and sat off of the side of his bed, running his hands down his face with a heavy sigh. He thought of you, of your weeping frame in that cage looking up at him with those haunting eyes. He thought of the way you looked at him, the way you lingered, the way you looked so much like his mother in a way— helpless.

Hobie gripped his sheets and looked out the window once more. It was stifling in his cabin. The air was thick and hot with humidity. He needed fresh air and maybe a cigar to soothe his nerves enough to find some peace in sleep. Ale would be nice, drink himself to sleep so even if he did have a nightmare he wouldn’t remember it. But everyone was asleep below deck and he didn’t want to stumble about in the dark, risking an angry, sleepy crew member cursing at him.

He got up and grabbed a lanturn. He took his time lighting it and placed it carefully on his desk. It cast just enough light to let Hobie look through his desk for a stray cigar he had in one of the drawers. Once he found it, he took the lantern and his cigar and grabbed the dagger he never went without before he left his cabin.

The deck was eerily silent. Every creak of the wood under his boots made him wince. The air was cool, the wind was salty, and the moon shone so brightly that the lantern was mostly unneeded. The Mary Jane swayed softly with the calm water that kissed and caressed her sides and kept everyone in her hull fast asleep except for her captain who made his way towards the side of the ship.

Hobie placed the lantern down on the ledge and took out his cigar. He leaned against the side of the ship, placing the end of the cigar in the small flame encased inside the lantern to light it before taking it between his full lips. He took a drag with the wind, embers burning away at the end. And as the smoke passed between his lips, he let go of the tightness in his shoulders and the knot in his stomach. The smoke was musky and rich and eased Hobie's nerves more than the comfort of any human other than his mother.

His mother, you, his mother, you. He couldn't close his eyes. Eyes, white eyes, pearls hanging off your hips, his mother's corpse, the tremble of your lips, the decaying of her jaw, half her skull exposed.

His fingers gripped the edge of the ship, lip curling. Hobie took another long drag of his cigar and held it in a tight grip between his lips. He shook his head and rubbed his face. Burying his face in the palms of his hands, he groaned loudly with frustration. This was a torture Hobie wished on no one.

Hobie sat there with his face in his hands for a long while, occasionally bringing his cigar to his lips to smoke from it. His head ached, his chest tightened, and he longed for a home that no longer belonged to him.

There was a splash in the water. Swiftly, Hobie took his hands from his face and looked over the side of the ship down into the dark waters below. It must have been a fish, nothing more. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars behind his lids and then white. Shakily, he took another drag from his cigar and let the smoke tumble from trembling lips.

Another splash. Hobie opened his eyes again and almost dropped his cigar into the water when he saw a head peeking up through the darkness just enough to reveal completely white eyes staring blankly at him.

It was you. Even in the darkness, he knew for certain it was you lurking in the waters, staring at him now with the same eyes that kept him from sleeping. He couldn't quite believe it was you and for a moment thought he was dreaming. This must have all been some elaborate scheme conjured up by his mind, set out to ruin his life and drive him into insanity.

He rubbed his eyes again, pinched his arm, and you were still there. You looked at him with an almost child-like wonder, your head breaching the water a little more to reveal the rest of your face. Water rolled down your cheeks like the tears had before, shimmering under the moonlight like little droplets of pearls.

Hobie looked towards the door that led below deck. It was still quiet. He almost wanted to retrieve Gwen to ensure his mind wasn't making fantasies, to ensure he wasn't dwindling into madness.

He looked back to you, his lip curling with distaste. “Wha’cha doin’ here?” 

You stared at him, your head tilted subtly to the side as you waded closer to the ship. Hobie sneered at you. “Are ya daft or sometin'? I let’cha go free. Get outta here.” He waved you off, attempted to shoo you away like one swats away a pest but you remained, moving ever closer to the ship.

You placed a clawed hand against the hull of the ship. Hobie watched in horror as you used your claws to grapple into the wood and climb your way up the side of the ship.

Hobie stumbled back, his hand retrieving his dagger as you climbed onto the ship and placed your feet aboard his deck. You glanced at his knife and trembled, whimpering softly.

Hobie had almost forgotten how ethereal you looked. Memory did your beauty no service. You were something handcrafted, something so meticulously designed it almost made him believe in a higher power. But he couldn’t let your deadly looks make him lose sight of what you really were. A danger.

“What do ya wan’?” He bared his teeth at you, fingers white-kuckling his dagger. His eyes were sharp with caution, shooting up and down your decorated body covered in pearls, seaweed, and shells. Your patches of scales almost twinkled with iridescent light. How could something so gorgeous be capable of such mass destruction and devastation? Nature was a cruel mistress.

“I let ya go. I coulda killed ya but I didn'. Ya gotta death wish or sometin’?”

You were clutching your shoulder; the one that had been injured before. You were shivering, looking so soft and vulnerable. It was clear you needed help. You had only wrapped up your shoulder with seaweed but it was bleeding through with the strenuous task you had just done.

You fell to your knees before him and looked up at him. You were tired and in pain. It would be easy to kill you now and be done with it. No one would know of his sin. You would plague him no longer. He would sleep well at night knowing you would never destroy anyone with your beauty again.

But how could he harm such a defenseless thing? If you wanted to kill him and his crew there were easier ways to do it. No– you were asking for help from him of all people. Maybe you figured that because he had helped you before he’d help you now when you needed it most.

Hobie should kill you. He knows he should. Your kind takes entire ships down indiscriminately, lure innocent people into the ocean to never be seen again or to wash up on shore days later with bleeding ears and whitened eyes. He had every reason in the world to kill you and let you rot out at sea like your victims.

But a softer part of him, the part who took in strays and gave them a home, asked him, ‘Is this who you really are? Killing someone that's so clearly asking for your help? Is that who you want to be?’ The battle of wanting to be a good person and the fire of revenge.

This was not right. Killing those in need of help would make him no better than the sirens he despised so much, no better than you and your kind. Hobie’s lip curled into a scowl. He would help you but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He’d be better than you, better than the whole lot of you. 

Hobie took his dagger and shoved it away into his belt at his hips. He raised his hands as if to surrender to you and got down low to show that he was no threat. You watched him slowly approach and something in your eyes told him you were scared. “Look, ‘m no’ gonna hur’cha.” His voice came off a bit abrasive though he tried to be gentle. You whimpered at him as he placed a hand on your shoulder, your lips pulling back to bare your teeth at him.

He backed away a bit. “You wan’ my help or no’?” He bit back at you. “You can go back t’where ya belong if no’.” His eyes were sharp and his lips were pressed, holding back a sneering frown. He made it clear. He did not need to help you, didn’t even want to in some sense. If you didn’t want it, he wouldn’t go out of his way to convince you to accept his help.

Your gaze shifted, you looked away for a moment. You were considering it. Finally, you yielded and stood, allowing Hobie to come close enough to touch you. Your skin was cool to the touch, water droplets clung to you, rolling down the dips and valleys of your body, your decency just barely hidden by coverings of seaweed.

His fingers slid over your skin, over the scales and fins of your forearm. You shivered, trembled so subtly under his warm touch. Your extra appendages were sensitive, his fingertips just barely grazed your fin. You almost tore your arm from his hold, but Hobie took your hand, taking a quick look at your webbed fingers carefully grabbing it. He stood before you, tossing his cigar over the side of the boat and into the water. You looked at him but he never seemed to look at you straight on. He’d catch quick glimpses of your gaze before letting his snap away elsewhere.

“Stay quiet.” Hobie’s voice was firm. “Do ya understand?” He grabbed the lantern from the ledge and held it up between the two of you to get a look at your face. You were pretty. Soft and delicate looking. He always expected sirens to look more…severe, more sharp and lethal-looking. The light reflected off of your eyes and made them glow gold. You nodded wordlessly.

Hobie guided you by your hand and led you below deck into the hold separate from where the rest of the crew slept. The dim fire from the lantern served as your only light in the darkness. It only illuminated the first few steps before you before the darkness swiftly rushed back in, biting at your heels.

He took you to where the few medical supplies they had were stored and brought up crates where you could sit with the lantern while he got bandages and a bottle of whiskey. Hobie placed the lantern down beside the two of you, it’s dim light glowing just enough that he could see your glittering frame.

“How’d ya get this anyway?” He grumbled, reaching out with tender fingers to carefully unwrap the seaweed you had haphazardly tied around the wound. “Harpoon or sometin'?�� You nodded slowly, fingers mindlessly twiddling with each other in your lap. Your eyes keenly watched him, traced the contours of his face. Hobie pretended like he didn't feel your gaze grazing his face.

Eyes flicking between your exposed wound—bloodied and irritated by the salt water—and your eyes, tracing the lines of his being with endless bounds of curiosity, he swallowed. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey. “Hold still. And don't bite.” Using his teeth, he popped open the cork of the bottle and poured the liquid inside over the wound.

You flinched away from him, fangs bared just for a moment at the sting. A low growl erupted from your chest somewhat instinctively.

“Growlin’ a’ me will get’cha nowhere.” He set the bottle down and grabbed the strip of cloth he was using as a bandage. Your lips formed into the smallest touch of a pout. You wiggled and writhed away from him. Hobie scoffed. “Gettin’ pouty won' get me either. Now stop movin’. Makin’ this much harder than it needs t’be.”

His voice was rough but his fingers were gentle. He traced over your skin with tender care– bandage in his hand– and began to wrap it tightly around your shoulder. He made you lift your arm a little so he could wrap it under the hinge of your arm. Hobie leaned in close. He was sure to focus his gaze on your wound though he could feel the burning gaze of your pearl eyes on him, lingering.

“Ya got a starin’ problem or sometin’?”

You did not grace him with a response. No shake or nod of your head. You simply stared. You did have a problem.

Hobie finished up wrapping your bandage with a quiet, “there”, and leaned away from you to hopefully get some space and breathe. You sat with your hands on your thighs, staring with wide, bright, white eyes. He was disturbed by you. Your vague allusion to human-ness made him uneasy, the way you stared made him uneasy, you made him uneasy.

“Leave. Ya got whatcha came fo’.”

You did not budge. You sat and stared with your head cocked to the side a little. You almost looked like a puppy, confused, eager, a bit ditzy.

Hobie almost wanted to be endeared. Instead he got annoyed. “Did ya no’ hear me? Go!” He pointed towards the hatch that led up to the deck. “Ya don' belong here ‘n ya know i’.” It was harsh, cutthroat, as if he had taken his dagger and jabbed it through your chest.

Hobie looked at you and could see the beginnings of tears glossing over your eyes. Your full, bottom lip trembled in a way all too familiar to him. Your tears reflecting in the light, tears like the pearls that hung off of your frame. Even if you couldn't sing, you were a siren in your own right. Your tears were your song and could lure even the toughest of sailors to their doom.

Curse you.

“Fine, fine, just– stop cryin’ would’ja? You can stay here fo’ the night but ya in the mornin’. Ya hear?” Rough voice.

You nod vigorously with understanding. You watched tearfully Hobie stand up with the lanturn and take your hand in his. Gentle hands. “Come on, we gotta hide ya. Don't wan’ my crew knowin’ ya here. Yer gonna give ‘em a fright.” He tugged and you stood, stumbling along behind him further below the ship into the hull.

Hobie took you to the room where they kept all the gunpowder and ale and moved a large barrel to the side so you could lay in the corner behind it. He looked around and found a sack of potatoes he summarily dumped out and tore apart so you could use it to cover yourself through the night.

“Don't leave this spot ‘til I come get ya in the mornin’. Understand?”

You nodded and grabbed the sack, looking at it in confusion. You slept underwater or on rocks. You’ve never used anything of the sort in your life. Hobie took it from you and made you lay down before draping it over you. “See, t’keep ya warm.”

Hobie moved the barrel back into place to hide you in case any of his crew came in to grab any ale in the morning. He’d come back for you as soon as day broke over the horizon before anyone woke up to usher you back off the ship and out to where you belong.

He was going to just walk away when something in him made him turn around and tell you, “good night”. Something soft and human. Something sympathetic and understanding.

And you purred a little tune along the same lines.

[nyc-looks]

Shanice, 28

“The head scarf is from Nappy Head Club, tie Thom Browne, button up Uniqlo, and the two layered pleated skirts are both thrifted. Uniqlo crew socks paired with Silent D Mary Janes. My closet is my playground, there's always something new to layer with another. I mean c'mon, who wants to be the same character everyday?”

Nov 26, 2022 ∙ Williamsburg

[bethanydelleman]

what do you think would have been the most personally tragic (plausible) outcomes for each of the heroines?

Catherine Morland - She was somehow forced to ride in John Thorpe's gig for a third time.

Now I'll be serious. I refuse to imagine my dear Catherine in a tragedy.

Marianne Dashwood - Willoughby seduces her and she ends up pregnant and ruined. I've written this, twice. Also, she could have died from her fever

Elinor Dashwood - Edward marries Lucy Steele, she ends up resigning herself to a prudent but loveless marriage or never leaves home, occasionally hearing through her family that Edward is completely miserable

Elizabeth Bennet - marries someone she doesn't really respect and becomes a female version of her father

Jane Bennet - never gets over Bingley, eventually settles for a loveless marriage and it kills her inside

Fanny Price - Edmund marries Mary Crawford and Fanny watches in silent agony as she destroys Edmund's (weak) moral core and he becomes an entirely different person. William's ship is lost and Fanny never hears from him again

Emma Woodhouse - kind of cheating since it's in the book: Mr. Knightley does fall in love with Harriet Smith and stops coming to Hartfield as often, leaving Emma loveless and lonely

Anne Elliot - Captain Wentworth marries Louisa Musgrove out of duty, he also realizes his love for Anne but sees no way out. Anne remains within his sphere through her connection to the Musgrove family, she is aware that he loves her but there is nothing either of them can do about it. After a few years and two children, Wentworth confesses and Anne is forced to remove herself to the house of a distant family member. She eventually marries and Wentworth takes on more and more risks as a naval officer, leading to his ship being destroyed and his entire crew dying. He survives and feels so guilty that he eventually hangs himself, leaving his disillusioned wife and kids to fend for themselves (don't worry, Louisa has a great family and a good fortune).

Lady Susan - Sir James refuses to die and escapes all of her attempts like a clueless cartoon character who cannot be killed. Her daughter is also widely reported to be more beautiful than her.

[ramblingoak]

The Repugnant

Chapter Two: Setting Sail

Read Chapter One / Check out amazing art by @foxybouquet HERE

Your father always warned you that you were too curious for your own good. After hearing rumors of the pirate ship The Repugnant in the area you snuck out of your father's villa to try and get a peek at the dreaded pirate and his crew of monsters. But what happens when Captain Mary Goore gets a peek of you first?

Mary Goore x Female Reader

Warnings: vampire!pirate!Mary Goore and special appearances by Copia and Terzo, vampire shenanigans, horror, violence, no one is dead but they're not exactly alive either so ye be warned, um canon accurate Terzo?, nsfw 18+only mdni, 2,500 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the banner, collage and dividers!)

Your blood was on fire.

Mary had spent a few moments licking over your pulse, chuckling at your continued pleas to let you go.  At the first touch of their fangs your knees went weak and Mary settled more firmly against you to keep you upright.  The pain was blinding, making your mouth open in a silent cry as it seemed to build and build.  You had never felt pain like this before, never felt anything like this before.  Your hands clawed at Mary’s back but it was no use.

You were going to die in this alley.

As soon as the thought crossed your mind Mary pulled away.  You couldn’t stop the whimper that left you as his fangs pulled out of your neck.  Despite his bite only going on for a handful of moments it felt odd not to have them there anymore.  Like you were empty almost.  The feeling scared you, your mind wandering to the stories your nanny had told you about those that fell under a vampire’s thrall.

“A thrall?!”  Mary’s head whipped up, their eyes brighter than any ruby you had ever seen and their smile wide and dripping with your blood.  “That’s adorable.  Do you wanna be my thrall, little starfish?”

“I don’t want to be your anything.”

“You say that now but I bet I’ll change your mi–shit!”

Mary doubled over when you jammed your knee into his crotch.  Their grip lessened enough that you were able to shove them down onto the mist covered ground and escape past them.  You stumbled across the uneven cobblestones, desperate to at least get to the street.  If you got there you’d have a better chance of getting away and hopefully either finding somewhere to hide or one of your father’s soldiers.  

As you reached the end of the alley the mist became thicker and nearly impossible to see through.  Mary shouted behind you and you dared a look back right as you reached the street.  The only thing you could see were his red eyes glaring at you from the mist and you knew that would be something that would haunt your dreams for years.  You gasped when your foot got caught on a stone and you stumbled, bracing yourself to land hard on the ground except the ground never came.

“Steady now, ragazza.”  

The heavily accented voice drifted over you as you tried to steady yourself in the man’s grip.  You looked up to thank him, expecting to see a soldier but your words froze in your throat.  

There was nothing there.

“Wh-what…”  You tried to pull away from whatever had a hold of you but the grip was firm and a chill began to creep up your arms.  “Let me go!”    

“Yeah, Copia,”  Another chill ran through you but this had more to do with the monster now standing at your back.  “Let go of my snack.”

“You were supposed to bring her to the ship, idiota.”

“I’m working on it.”  Mary wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you back against their chest.  “Just got a little sidetracked is all.  Did her daddy get the note?”

“Sì, Phantom left it on his front door.”  

The hold on your arms finally disappeared and you quickly wrapped them around your waist.  Behind you Mary laughed and you whimpered when you felt their breath on the wound they left on your neck.

“What’s the matter, starfish?  Never seen a ghost before?”  Your eyes searched the mist before you, trying to make sense of what was happening.  A ghost?  “You have to focus now.  Just watch.”

As Mary spoke the mist before you seemed to get thicker, swirling and concentrating until it began to resemble a figure.  Your eyes trailed up from the cobblestones, taking in the man that was seemingly appearing from nothing.  He was still not entirely there, the building behind him visible through his body.  The only things that seemed solid about him were his green and white eyes and right now they were focused on you.  

“Ciao, bella.”

“Hey!”  Mary slipped an arm around your waist and pulled you securely against their chest.  “None of that, she’s mine.”

“I just said hello!”

“Yeah but that’s how it always starts.”

The ghost, Copia, rolled his eyes but you could see a hint of a smirk on his face.   

“We need to go.”  Copia took a few steps back, his form briefly disappearing into the mist before he was visible again.  “Before the spell wears off preferably.”

“Where are you taking me?”  You tried to dig your heels in but Mary was too strong, easily pulling you along as they began to walk down the street.  Ahead of you Copia’s eyes appeared off and on but he seemed mostly concerned with if anyone was following you.  “Are you…can I go back home?”

“Nope!  Someplace even better.”

Fighting was useless so you let Mary pull you through the streets.  There was random shouting around but you never caught sight of anyone else.  Occasionally Copia would disappear completely only to come back with blood dripping from a very real looking sword in his hand.  So many questions were building up inside of you but you kept your mouth shut until you finally saw your destination.

The Repugnant.

“No!”  You shoved at Mary with all your might, kicking at him when they lifted you into the air.  “Let me go!”

“Sorry, starfish.  You’re stuck with us for a while.”  Mary grunted when your foot connected with their knee, letting go of you with a curse.  “Copia!  Take her!”

You quickly looked up from where you had fallen onto the street, your eyes immediately meeting those of the ghost.  The moon peeked through the clouds and you were able to make out more of his face.  Hair that was blowing wildly around his head despite no breeze around, sideburns and then a mustache perched over a smug grin.

“Mi dispiace, bella.  Captain’s orders.”  

All the fight left you then and you didn’t say a word when the strange cold hands lifted you up onto your feet.  There was no telling what they’d do to you if you kept fighting them.  At least for now it seemed they were trying to get something from your father so perhaps you were safe for the time being.  You turned your head to look at Mary, shivering when you saw their ruby gaze on you.  The bite throbbed under his stare and you couldn’t help but press one of your hands over the still bleeding wound.

Maybe safe wasn’t the best word to use.

Mary started stalking towards you, their eyes glued onto your neck.  You shivered when they reached a hand out to pull yours away from the bite wound.  Copia muttered something behind you and Mary jerked their head towards the ship.  Mary’s grip tightened on your hand as the ghost disappeared, leaving only cold air behind you.

“Are you going to behave, little starfish?”  When you nodded weakly Mary smiled and licked their lips.  “Good.  I’d hate to have to tie you up.”  Mary brought your hand close to their face, sniffing at your skin briefly.  To your horror they stuck their tongue out and lapped at the blood that had gotten on your hand.  “Has anyone ever told you how good you taste?”

“Please…I’m sure my father would pay anything you asked for to get me back.”

“Oh I’m counting on it.”  They laughed when you tried to tug your hand away, holding it even tighter.  “On second thought maybe I should tie you up.  Drink my fill of you while you can’t do anything about it.”

“No!”

“No?  You don’t like that idea?”  Mary grinned and yanked you against them, one hand slipping around your waist and resting low on your back.  “You’re right, it’ll be more fun to have you put up a fight.”

Their mouth descended on your neck again but instead of teeth you just felt the wet strokes of Mary’s tongue.  They lapped at your neck slowly, cleaning up the blood that was quickly drying in the night air.  You let yourself go limp against them, silent tears streaming down your face while they worked. 

What would become of you on Mary’s ship?  Was it full of more ghosts like Copia?  Or were there worse things on board, things that you’d only be able to imagine in your nightmares.  Would Mary drink from you again? 

Oh don’t worry, starfish.  I’ll be tasting you again.

You froze when Mary’s voice drifted through your head, looking at him in alarm when he straightened up to meet your eyes.  When you started shaking your head Mary just laughed before starting down the dock towards the ship, dragging you along behind them.  You couldn’t help but stare at the ship in awe as they tugged you towards it.  The tall black sails disappeared into the night sky but you could just make out the jolly roger flag billowing in the wind.  Mary stopped at the edge of the gangplank, a bright grin on their face while they reached up to cup your cheek.

“Soon you'll be begging for it.”

The deck of the ship was chaotic.

You found yourself hiding your face against Mary’s shoulder, scared to see what was around you.  There were shouts, snarls, growls…sounds that you had never even heard before.  You couldn’t even imagine what they might belong to.  It was almost a relief when you heard Copia’s voice.

“Are you putting her in your cabin?”

“No, she’ll be too distracting.”  Mary wrapped an arm around your shoulders and lifted your chin up with a single finger.  “She can stay with your brother.”

“Terzo isn’t going to like that.”

“Yeah?  Well Terzo is in no position to dictate what I do on my ship.”  The vampire poked the tip of your nose before addressing you.   “You don’t mind hanging out with Terzo, do ya starfish?”

“Wh-what is Terzo?”

“Ah, he’s mostly harmless.”  Mary tugged at your shoulder and started leading you towards the stairs that led into the ship’s belly.  “Honestly it’s probably the safest place on my ship.  Hard to say what the others might be tempted to do to you.”

“What are…”  You dared a look around you, freezing when your eyes landed on something that could only be described as a giant insect.  The creature cocked their head and blinked at you before a set of wings spread out behind them and they took off into the air.  “I think I’m going to faint.”

“Don’t worry, starfish.  They might be tempted but they know not to touch you.”  Mary continued to lead you through the inside of the ship, past various doors until they stopped before one at the end of the passageway.  “Only I get to do that.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Come on, we both know that’s not true.”  They began to move closer, crowding you back against the wall.  It was beginning to be overwhelming having them this close.  All you could think about was their tongue on your skin and their teeth in your neck.  Mary pushed their head up close, their lips grazing your cheek when they spoke.  “It sure feels like you enjoy it when I touch you.”

“That’s a lie!”

Mary easily blocked your knee and grabbed your hands when you tried to hit him.  You felt like crying when they spun you around to face the door to the cabin.

“There’s no use lying to me, I can already feel your emotions.”  They lowered their head and licked across the bite wound, their chest vibrating with laughter when you whimpered.  “Just imagine what I’ll be able to do when I get an even better taste.”

Mary had the cabin door open before you could think of an answer, shoving you inside roughly before slamming it closed.  You took a few tentative steps as your eyes adjusted to the dark room, nervously looking around for whoever or whatever Terzo was.  The small window barely let any moonlight in so you could just make out a bed, a dresser and a table with a couple chairs.  There were a few items on top of the dresser, one almost looked like a mannequin head but you were too scared to get any closer.  When your eyes finally adjusted to the dimness you were able to make out what looked to be a figure sitting in one of the chairs in the far corner.

“H-hello?”  You gripped your dress skirts in your hands to try to stop them from shaking.  “Terzo?”

“Buonasera, dolcezza.”  Your head jerked over to the dresser, startled when the voice seemed to come from there instead of the chair.  “Mi dispiace, I would have cleaned up if I had known I was going to have a guest.”

“I’m not a guest.”  It was hard to keep the venom from your voice but you couldn’t help it.  You looked back at the chair when the legs moved, one leg elegantly crossing over the other as you watched.  “I’m a prisoner.”

“Ah, so the Captain was successful then.  Bene, molto bene.”

“Yes, he kidnapped me.  Him and that ghost.”

“So you met mio fratello then?  Quite the sight isn’t he?”  Terzo laughed then and you nervously glanced towards the dresser top again.  “What you can see of him anyway.”

“Are you a ghost too?”

“Un fantasma?  Oh no dolcezza, I’m as solid as they come.”  

A horrible tingling sensation started crawling over your skin as you watched the figure in the chair straighten up.  There was something off about it but it was too dark to get a good look.  You couldn’t help but take a step back when they got up and began to walk towards the dresser.  The sparse moonlight caught the figure and when you finally realized what was wrong about them your jaw dropped.  

“You…you…”  

You couldn’t even get the words to leave your mouth as the horrific sight before you started to make sense.  No, not sense, nothing on this ship made any damned sense.  The sound of a match being struck filled the room and when you got a better look at Terzo as he lit some candles you stumbled back until you hit the door of the room.  The knob rattled uselessly in your hand, locked and unwilling to turn.

“Is everything ah, okie dokie, dolcezza?”  Terzo finished with the candles and then held the match out to the mannequin head.  You jumped when a face was briefly lit up in the light before the match flame was blown out.  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“How are you…”  Your vision started to swim as Terzo picked up the head, his head, casually holding it in his hands at his waist.  “But that’s your…”

“Sì, I’m afraid my head got separated from the rest of me.”  Terzo lifted his head up higher, close to where it should be on his neck.  “I’d almost rather be a ghost to be honest.  Or un mostro.  What do you think, dolcezza?” 

Terzo thrust his head your way then, his lips turned up in a bright grin.  You barely were able to make out his features before the room began to get dark again.  As your knees buckled and you fell to the floor you could have sworn you heard Mary’s voice in your head...

Sleep tight, starfish.

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[mrsalwayswrite]

What Words Can't Say - Chapter 5

a/n: hope the length makes up for the wait.

Warnings: swearing, unwanted physical contact, mild violence, Gale is a teddy bear

Words: 10k

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

July 1943

Dusk painted the sky in colorful hues when the mechanics finally packed away their tools. Tonight, the small crew decided to go out to the local pub to celebrate Simon's birthday, and everyone was eager to get started. The consensus was the guys would come collect Abby from her hut once they were cleaned up and ready to go. 

Abby would never admit out loud how fast she ran to her hut so she would have even a smidgen more of time. She raced the clock to take the fastest shower of her life and even then she could still feel stubborn spots of oil and grease on her. With the lack of time, she was forced to towel dry her hair as best as she could and then let it fall naturally down her back, so her straight brunette locks ended just past her shoulder blades. She giggled at the mental image of the shocked faces of some of the nurses who painstakingly and religiously used curlers in their hair. 

Slipping into the only dress she brought to England with her, a fond smile arose with the memories attached to the dress. It was a simple navy blue dress with white polka dots all over, the hem dancing about her knees. Her Aunt Hassel gifted the handmade dress to Abby when she arrived to live with them. The first of many gifts and ways that her aunt and uncle showed they were happy she moved in with them. A decision she would never regret. 

Lastly, Abby swiped on Ada's Victory Red lipstick she left on her nightstand, thinking Ada would not mind. More likely, Ada would fuss and want to help her get ready. All the other nurses were off at the Club or doing their assigned rounds, so Abby had the hut to herself. A rarity but especially helpful tonight when she did not want to answer any questions about why she was dressing up. 

Steeling herself, she took a glance in Ada's small compact and fought the immediate urge to wipe the lipstick off and crawl into bed, claiming illness. Warring thoughts and voices buzzed like bees inside her mind. Their sting, an almost palpable thing, as she fought to control her breathing. She could do this. There was no one she was dressing up for, just herself. This was supposed to be fun. It would be fun. No one was going to berate her. She trusted the men she was with. She had promised Ken she would go. 

Despite her own mental encouragement, she knew it would be so easy to crawl into bed. To hide the dress in the bottom of her footlocker again. To erase the lipstick. To tie her hair back up. To return to the feeling of safety. She could do it…

Before she surrendered to the urge, she stalked out of the hut with her black Mary Janes clicking on the hard floor. 

Dusk transformed into darkness by the time she stepped out. Taking several deep breaths, she stared up at the stars as if silently seeking strength. The cool night air slid around her legs, only protected by the nylons she wore. She relished the shiver it shot through her, displacing the heat generated from her turbulent mind and insecurities. 

Luckily the rest of the mechanics came around the corner only a couple minutes after she stepped out. 

“Did you dress up for me, love?” Simon teased, after a long whistle. 

“Only because it's your birthday.” 

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Ken slung an arm around her shoulders, smelling much better than he did previously, as they followed the rest of the crew. “You look nice.”

“Nice?” Winks snorted from Ken's other side. He peeked over at her through the gloom. “Abby looks beautiful.”

“Thanks, John.” She smiled at him, a flush on her cheeks from all the attention. 

Conversations ebbed and flowed amongst their small group as they made the walk through the airbase and onward to the village. A renewed liveliness danced around them, the laughter and teasing increased the further they walked from base. As if a heavy cloak was dropped at the gate leading onto the base and now they could celebrate unimpeded. A warmth filled Abby as she watched and listened to the men around her. This was what they all needed, a temporary release from the weight of their work and all it entailed. A reminder that they were all still young and alive. 

Well, most of the crew. 

Simon was the oldest, turning twenty-eight today. When he signed up, he initially wanted to be a P-51 pilot but as he progressed in the training, decided he liked working on the planes more than flying them and was transferred to ground crew. He left a wife and toddler back home in Michigan. However much he joked that he joined the war effort to get a break from the wife and toddler, no one commented on the way he carried a photo of them in his pocket at all times. 

John “Winks” Herrmann was from Connecticut and Ken's best friend. He was a sweet guy that felt like an honorary ‘Lemmons’ with how quickly Ken and his friendship blossomed into a brotherhood. He hardly ever said a negative word about anybody and was always willing to help out. He was a bit naive in certain ways but mostly because he was young and this was his first time away from home. 

The rest of their group contained: Allen “Al” Hendricks from Missouri, Cricket Cox from Alabama, Paul Wilson from New Hampshire and Lincoln “Dog-Face” Miller from Montana. 

Without any outside light due to the blackout, it was hard to truly tell what the pub looked like. From what she could tell, it reminded Abby of the stereotypical English pub - small and quaint and lively. The only problem was a lot more noise drifted from behind the door as they walked up to it than she expected. 

“I thought you said no one would be here.” Abby quietly asked Ken. 

“Maybe it's locals?”

But something in her gut told her that was not the case, and when they opened the door, light and noise spilling out to encase them and drag them into its confines, like a spider into its web…Abby knew she had made a mistake. 

A handful of locals were scattered throughout the pub, some old men talking and grumbling and several young women either on the dance floor or drinking with the soldiers, but the pub was swarmed with uniforms boasting those of the 100th Bomb Group and RAF. 

As if sensing her urge to abandon the night, Ken snaked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He put his mouth close to her ear to be heard over the noise. “It's fine. We'll find somewhere in the back.” 

She nodded mutely. 

Al found a table off to the side, snagging it as the locals headed out, most likely wanting to retain the use of their hearing due to the sheer volume echoing in the place. Abby found herself sandwiched between Ken and Simon in mismatched chairs, but instead of feeling claustrophobic, she felt she could breathe again. She was surrounded by people she trusted and they were out of the main view of people. Not that she was hiding, per se, but she was not here to show off. 

Lincoln and Al came back with the first round of beers and whiskey, and without a second thought, she took a generous swallow of the whiskey placed in front of her, hoping the alcohol would settle her nerves. She wanted to enjoy her time out, she really did. So she resolved to ignore those around them and try to focus on the men at her table. 

She could do this…

*****

“So there I was naked, and hidin’ in the hay pile, prayin’ to God ‘imself that her daddy couldn't see me.” Al told his story, much to the amusement of those around the table. “I waited about two damn hours for the man to leave. I swear, he was like a coon-dog, tryin’ to find me. Well, that damn hay is itchin’ me somethin’ terrible but I don't dare move, right? Who knows if he could see the hay shiftin’?”

“You said it was night. I doubt he'd see you.” Paul countered, leaning back in his chair, as he twirled a screwdriver around his fingers. He never went anywhere without some sort of tool on his person, claiming you never knew when something needed to be fixed. Abby thought it had more to do with superstitions but kept that to herself. 

Al ran a hand down his face. “I was seventeen! And terrified! That man could make even the devil himself shit his pants.”

“What were you doing messing with his daughter then?” Simon countered, ever the voice of wisdom.

“Swear to God, she's the prettiest thing you'll ever see! Even puts Rita Hayworth to shame!” Al placed a hand over his heart, his brown eyes twinkling merrily. 

“No!” 

“I don't believe you!”

“Don't you blaspheme about Rita!”

“Fine, fine.” Al smirked, leaning forward as if to share a secret with his companions. “She had the biggest breasts I’d ever seen and said I could touch them. What dumbass would say no? Not me.”

“There it is!” Simon laughed. 

Abby giggled, playing with a strand of her hair. She was feeling good. Two whiskeys sloshed in her system while she nursed her first beer of the night sitting before her. She was not drunk, she knew that feeling and did not like it, but gloriously tipsy and everything felt light and easy and she wanted to revel in the feeling. Laughter spilled from her lips and she could not remember the last time she had so much fun. 

“So, what happened? Did he catch you?” Ken asked from beside her, a flush on his cheeks betraying his own intoxication. 

Al wagged a thick finger. “No. No. The bastard didn't catch me that day. No. It was worse.” He leaned forward again, a forearm on the table and tapping his finger on the table to punctuate his words. “No, turns out I'm allergic to hay. Who knew? Broke out in goddamn hives that lasted for days. It was awful! Don't laugh at me!” 

But the group laughed anyway at the turn of events in the story. With the embarrassing and hilarious stories being shared, all focused on their group, it felt like they were in a world of their own. The talking and laughter of the others in the pub was only white noise, drifting in and out with the music playing. 

“Alright, whose turn for the next round? Huh?” Paul asked, scratching his thin black beard.  

“I'll go.” Abby said, pushing back her chair to stand up. A wave of vertigo smacked into her and she gripped onto Ken's shoulder to steady herself. 

“You good?” Ken questioned. 

With a smile on her face, she shook her head, dislodging the strange sensation. “Yeah, just been sitting too long, that's all.” She reached out and ruffled his hair, causing him to smack her hand away with a grimace and whine like when they were younger. 

“I'll come with you.” Lincoln said, his thick jowls and thin lips highlighted by the lights. “Gotta step outside for a minute anyway.” 

A new conversation started up around the table as the two skirted away and methodically weaved through those filling the small pub. Abby appreciated Lincoln leading the way, his wide shoulders and thick frame cleared an easy path for her to follow. 

She felt like a fairy, moving around the dancing crowd and seeing the twinkling lights. With a stupid giggle, she spun in a circle, making her dress fan out around her knees. Unfortunately, she bumped into a soldier, but before he could say anything, Lincoln grabbed her hand and dragged her the rest of the way to the bar counter. 

She leaned against the wooden counter, sticky form spilled alcohol and decorated with dents and circle stains from years of use. “Sorry.” She giggled again, tipping her head back to look at the much taller man. “I haven't walked in heels in some time.” At least, she thought it was the Mary Janes that caused her to momentarily lose her balance. 

“It's fine.” He smiled down at her, something indiscernible in his dark eyes. 

She blinked for a long moment, wondering if she was missing something. Why was he still smiling at her? Unsure, she went to brush her hair behind her ear and realized his hand was still in hers. 

Oh. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. Sorry. I just–” 

He chuckled as he pulled back his hand. “It's fine, Abby.” He glanced towards the door and then shuffled from foot to foot next to her. “Is it– I mean, I can stay–”

“Go.” She awkwardly pushed his shoulder, probably looking like a kitten bothering a German Shepherd. “I'll wait for you here.”

“Oh-okay. I won't be long.” He waited for a moment as if she would change her mind, but after she pushed him once again, he quickly stepped out of the pub. 

Turning her back towards the pub, she idly traced the circle stains on the wood. The bartender was helping a group of patrons further down and she did not mind waiting. 

Her thoughts drifted towards her departed companion. She disliked the nickname ‘Dog-Face’ for Lincoln but unfortunately it held merit. He was incredibly kind and humble but his countenance resembled that of a bulldog. To his credit, Lincoln rolled with the nickname. He was a good mechanic and a good friend. Ken had confessed to her early on that Lincoln had a crush on her, although he had never acted upon it and she had never witnessed it herself. She figured it was just boy gossip and Ken trying to tease her. 

As she glanced down the bar counter again, her attention was caught by Captain Dye and Lil, the two coyly flirting with one other. She had met Lil once when traveling into the village to pick up something from the small, local store they had. Abby was fairly certain she had heard rumors that Lil and Major Egan were seen together. The nurses had plenty of thoughts about Lil and some of the other local women, but maybe that was just rumors? 

“I dare say, it's quite a shame to see a beautiful woman standing alone at a bar. A true disgrace.”

Abby turned back, a wave of surprise coursing through her and dissipating some of the clouds in her brain, as she noted the man standing quite close to her. Upon hearing his British accent and seeing the uniform he wore, her mind quickly put together that he must be RAF. 

“Who said I'm alone?” 

He was handsome enough, she guessed. The slicked-back dark hair, the mustache and the cocky grin he wore most likely made many women swoon. But it was the way his gaze appraised her, like he knew he had already caught her without even having to try…that immediately erected her walls and sobered her further. 

He made a show of looking around her. “I do not see anyone or am I mistaken?”

“I'm just getting the next round for the group I came with.”

“Ah.” His grin widened and with a half step, crowded her against the counter. “I'm positive they won't mind waiting a little longer as we get to know each other.”

“No, thank you.” 

“No? May I at least have the honor of knowing your name, love?”

“I don't think that's necessary right now.” She hissed, one of her hands against his chest to keep him from moving closer. 

“I promise to be a perfect gentleman. What do you say, love?”

Yet his actions sang their own tune. 

While he spoke, his hand hovered on her lower back, an unwanted weight to pin her in place. She almost missed his last statement, a final plea for her attention because his hand crossed into turbulent waters and unknowingly released a storm. 

His back faced outward, a shield, a barrier, from the eyes of those in the pub. An illusion of privacy. For residing in that illusion, his hands chose to wander. The left was firmly placed on her lower back, while the right gripped the fabric of her dress covering her thigh. 

“Care to dance?” He breathed into her ear, alcohol wafting like a fog over her face. His hand though, slippery as eel, slipped under the hem of her dress and slid up her inner thigh.

“Get your hands off me.” She quietly snarled, grabbing his hand to cease its further exploration. 

She could feel his sigh against her cheek, that hot exhale of breath. More importantly, she felt his hand on her lower back drift downward…and she saw red. 

On instinct, she stomped the heel of her Mary Jane into the top of his leather shoe, and used her hand still against his chest to shove him hard. 

He hissed, teetering for a moment but catching his balance with a hand on the countertop. 

Slowly, she turned to face him after brushing the hem of her dress back into place, warily watching him for retaliation. She would rather not make a scene but if he came at her again, she had no problem with showing him her infamous right hook. 

Thankfully, he had a few brain cells that still worked. Anger burned in his eyes but he kept his lips closed. His gaze scanned over her with unrestrained disgust. With a shake of his head and a snort, he turned and walked away without a word. 

Her heart raced like an engine being pressed to the max. Placing her elbows on the counter she covered her eyes with her hands and she focused on steadying her breathing. An alcohol-induced fog skittered at the edges of her brain, shoved away by the ugly encounter but easing back in to soften her heightened emotions. 

A minute later, the barman finally made his way to her, apologies pouring off his tongue. She ordered and waited as he filled the new glasses, hoping she appeared confident. The encounter with the RAF pilot had left her shaken. She knew logically she was unhurt and had handled the situation as best as she could. Yet her gaze darted around, perceptions high to make sure no one else snuck up on her. Her hand repeatedly brushed at the thigh that he touched as if she could wipe away his stain on her skin. 

Lincoln reappeared as the barman loaded up the drinks onto a tray. Before he could move the tray to their table, Abby snatched one of the glasses of whiskey and tossed it back. She hissed, eyes smarting as the liquor burned down her throat. Leaving the empty glass on the counter, she led the way this time back to their table, purposefully ignoring Lincoln's quizzical glances at her. 

Back with the group, she tried to embrace the same lightness as before, that feeling of being wholly relaxed and having fun. The shot of whiskey and being back with the mechanics alleviated some of her jitters but she could not entirely erase the twitching nerves or how her gaze frequently swept the pub for that RAF pilot. A vine of resentment twisted around her heart for that pilot, how he ruined her freedom for his own amusement. It was a painful reminder that no matter where she was, she always had to be on guard. 

After she finally finished her warm beer, the clouds were back in her mind and her nerves had dissipated somewhat. At this point, sleep called to her as if from a distance and she was ready to beckon its approach. 

“Ken–” She said in a hush, her head leaning on his shoulder and his arm behind her back. 

“Yeah, me too.” Her cousin replied quietly. “Ready?”

At her nod, the two carefully got up. Ken spoke to those at the table. “I'm going to take Abby back. I'll see you fellas in the morning.”

The chorus of farewells echoed from those remaining. The two mechanics meandered through the crowded pub, dodging the patrons both drunk and mildly sober. Ken led the way, cutting through like a schooner through the waves. With all of her attention focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not being knocked into, she barely noted when Ken took a detour away from the door, her feet faithfully following him. 

“Kenny!” 

“Hey ya, Ken!” 

The familiar cheers for her cousin erupted from the large table in front of them. She briefly wondered how he knew the majors were sitting over here, tucked away in the corner like they had been. The question flitted away from her mind almost as quickly as it emerged. 

“Hey fellas. Just poppin’ over to wish you a good night.” Ken explained, unnecessarily waving like a kid on a playground. 

Abby attempted to cover a giggle with her hand, hiding behind her cousin's back. Was he drunk? He appeared steady enough standing there. She decided to poke his back to make sure. 

“No! Sit down!”

“Yeah, join us! Where's that extra chair?”

“It's here! Sit down!”

Ken shrugged his shoulders, swatting away her hand like a fly. “That's ‘right. Thank you though.”

He did not tip so Abby concluded he was not drunk but she decided to poke him again for good measure. 

“Ouch!” Ken squirmed, turning around to grab her hands to prevent any more pokes. Mischief danced along her veins, so she stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Hey, who's that with ya?” 

By this point, Abby was feeling all three glasses of the whiskey flowing through her veins and the beer she had been sipping on. She would be the first to admit she was a lightweight, not drinking often did that to a person. Plus with her slimmer stature, alcohol raced through her faster than a fart through a fan. 

Hearing Biddick's voice, she shifted to the side to look around Ken. Directly in front of her at the large wooden table was seated someone from the 100th she recognized but could not figure out his name but thought he was a navigator. Beside him was Major Veal, then Major Egan, Major Cleven, Lieutenant Biddick and Major Kidd, while across from them sat three other men in uniforms but she could not see their faces easily. 

“Hey, boys.” She smiled at the familiar officers. That very smile lighting up her face at the looks of momentary shock crossing the faces of the men she knew. 

“Holy shit! Slugger, is that you?” Egan almost spit out his drink, wiping away what dribbled down his chin. 

Biddick let out a wolf whistle. “Lookin’ good, Abby!” 

“Alright, you're going to embarrass her.” Ken waved off any more rowdy compliments, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side.  

“Now you gotta sit with us!” Egan demanded. “Hey, Bubbles, go tell Croz to get something for Kenny and Sluggar here!” 

“Yes, sir.” The man she couldn't put a name with -apparently Bubbles- got up next to them and held out his chair. “You can have my seat. I'll sit on the other side with Croz.”

“Thanks, Bubbles.” Ken said. He bumped her with his hip, directing her towards the vacated seat while he slid into the empty chair between Bubbles’ chair and the unknown men. 

Once she finally seated between Veal and Ken, she was finally able to discern the faces of the other men at the table. All three were clearly RAF, but when she locked eyes with the one in the middle, seeing the familiar sleazy smirk on his face and his rakish gaze, she wondered if she might end up resorting to violence tonight after all. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you never left the hardstands.” Veal teased Ken. 

“Just out celebrating, sir. We're not allowed to have whiskey at the hut or hardstands.”

“That sounds terrible.” Egan dramatically lamented, then leaned forward and pointed a finger at Ken. “We should fix that! Can't have good work go without rewards!” 

“No, Bucky.” Kidd glared.

“Come on, Jack!”

Abby smiled at the one sided argument Egan was trying to put up. Her gaze slid around the table to land on Gale, and to her shock, locked on her already were his baby blue eyes. Once their eyes connected, the corner of his mouth lifted and he sent a cheeky wink her way. A giggle bubbled up within her, spilling out even as she tried to suppress it with her hand. The sound seemed to unlock something within him for a genuine smile rolled across his face, eyes softening as he continued to stare at her. 

Seemingly continuing an interrupted conversation, the RAF pilot in the middle began speaking, throwing a proverbial wet blanket over the jovial group. “I admire you Americans, you're up there in broad daylight, seemingly oblivious to the downsides.”

“I…I don't understand what you're saying, Captain.” Kidd slowly said. 

“Nevermind, old boy. It's one for the higher ups.”

“It's a question of philosophies.” The RAF on the left continued the train of thought of his comrade, not even trying to hide his patronizing tone. “We bomb at night because it doesn't matter what we hit as long as it's German. Bombing during the day is suicide. I could foresee in the future, American strategy adjusting due to the unfortunate losses you'll no doubt continue to suffer. Maths.”

Abby squinted her eyes at the Brits, wondering what kind of churlish conversation took place prior to Ken and her arrival. Even with her sluggish thoughts, she could feel the strife floating in the air like a cheap perfume. 

Egan inhaled sharply, gaze narrowed at the men across the table from him. “Maths?”

“I mean, maybe if you bombed during the day, you'd hit your targets.” Biddick snarked. 

“And why the hell do you Brits add an ‘s’ to the end of math?” 

The cocky RAF smirked, slowing his tone like he was talking to a child. “Because there's more than one of them.”

Biddick mocked. “There's more than one of them.”

“I can see more than one of you too.” Egan raised his hand, seemingly illustrating his point. “I could knock all of you out.” Veal smacked his hand down but the major kept going. “Probably in one punch. In one punch.”

Thankfully, the arrival of alcohol distracted from the rising violence. 

“This outta wet your whistles, boys!” Crosby announced carrying a tray of drinks over. 

The drinks were quickly passed around, slid along the tabletop or handed to its owner. Abby noted how Crosby specifically handed Gale his ginger beer, a hint of reverence in his action. Yet Gale never took his gaze off the RAF pilots, accepting the drink without looking at the apparent admirer behind him. 

“Here ya go.” Bubbles’ voice snagged Abby's attention away as he placed a whiskey in front of Abby and one for Ken. “I wasn't sure what you wanted.”

“Thank you.” She murmured to the soft spoken man. 

He nodded, then retreated to the opposite side of the table. She witnessed them elbowing each other out of the way and being a nuisance to one another as they settled in their seats. 

“Ken…”

Her cousin looked down at her, “hmmm?”

“We need to go.”

“Hold on, another minute.” His attention turning back to the Brits, sucked into the turbulent conversation. 

With a sigh, she leaned her head on Ken's shoulder. Without looking, he twitched his shoulder, making her head move. Giggling, she smacked his arm but laid her head against him again. She could feel him scoot closer and settle his arm against the back of her chair, before taking a sip of his new whiskey.  

“How about a song?” The youngest of the RAF eagerly changed the subject, directing his particular question to Egan. “I hear you sing, Major.”

Those that knew the major either cheered or grimaced, depending on their opinions of John Egan's vocal talents. 

“Pick one. What's your favorite?” The young Brit encouraged. 

Egan grinned like he had won some kind of award. “Good idea!” Even though many around the table loudly disagreed with this assumption. 

To her hazy recollection Abby had never heard Major Egan sing, she almost opened her mouth to add encouragement when Biddick broke through the ruckus of voices. 

“Hey! You want to get Major excited? Baseball!” 

Egan pointed a finger at Biddick. “Specifically Yankees.” He clarified because apparently the distinction was important. His attention slid to his best friend by his side, a silly grin steadily growing as he gazed at him. “Oh my buddy, Buck, here, he thinks they're a waste of time, don't you?” 

Leaning forward to slip into Gale's space, Biddick added. “It's not just sports he doesn't follow. I mean, you don't follow anyone, do you?”

Gale nodded, allowing a pregnant pause as he bit into a toothpick before casually stating, “I follow you, Curt.” 

“And he would still find a way to show off!” Biddick chuckled, further leaning over Gale, now invested in this strange conversation. “For example, you remember Walla Walla. We had a visit from wing Cleven here, slow-timing Hollenbeck's engines. Just so they remembered who he was. He buzzed the Tower, all engines feathered. I–”

“No. Three, three engines–” Major Veal interrupted, holding up three fingers. “He still had one.”

Bubbles agreed. “I remember he called you ‘One Engine Cleven’.”

Biddick hushed the interruption. “Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey. I'm– I'm telling the story here, All right? It's my story. It's four engines. Next thing I see this fort sailing twenty-five feet over the runway. Yeah,” Biddick clicked his tongue, giving a dramatic pause, “silent as the grave.”

“Beautiful.” 

“Hmm.”

“Wanted to do that all my life.” Egan murmured, smiling at Gale. 

Those around the table collectively laughed or agreed, a comradery between those of the 100th and their experiences together. Gale shook his head, a hint of color on his cheeks from the attention. 

A barely heard laugh escaped Abby's lips as she watched Egan squeeze Gale's cheeks, further embarrassing the man. 

Kidd raised his whiskey. “I'll drink to that. No Engine Cleven.”

“No Engine Cleven. Here we go. Hear hear!” Those of the 100th tapped their drinks together, too caught up in their own merriment to see the side-eyes and mocking looks by the RAF pilots.  “And here's to Ken and Sluggar for being there to fix us up after!”

With the attention of them, Abby raised her head and grabbed her drink. After clinking her glass against those within reach, she took a sip and licked her lips. She stared at the amber liquid, wondering if she should be worried that it no longer burned when traveling down her throat. Maybe her body was used to it by now? For experimental reasons, she sipped again. What warmth filled her belly was dashed with an icy blast as her gaze locked with the RAF pilot-Byron she thought she heard his companion say. He raised his own glass to her, a mock salute, before taking a sip. Meanwhile his rakish gaze never left her. With a repressed shudder, she looked away and tossed the rest of her whiskey back. She could feel his hands on her again, even if it was only in her mind. 

As if summoned, her hazel eyes connected to the baby blues of Gale's. A slight furrow between his brows betrayed his relaxed posture. She saw his gaze shift to look at the Brits and then back at her. A question there but one she did not want to answer. Even if she tried, the words tangled on her tongue in knots. She leaned her head back against Ken's shoulder, lazily watching the lights around them. 

When Byron spoke up again, Abby wondered if the idiot liked confrontation, especially with his haunty, arrogant tone. “Would you have rather been a fighter pilot, major?” 

Egan snapped, clearly hearing the Brit's tone also. “Buck is a fighter pilot. A fighter pilot who happens to fly a bus.”

“And so are you, Bucky.” Bubbles added. 

Egan shook Bubbles’ hand. “And so are you.”

“So, let me get this straight.” The visibly confused younger RAF leaned forward, pointing a finger between the two majors across from him. “You're Buck and he's Bucky?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there a shortage of nicknames in the 100th?” Byron asked, causing laughter between himself and his two companions. 

Yet Egan's response instantly sobered the group, reminding everyone of the truth of war. 

“No. Just a shortage of crews.”

Bryon stated. “Hmm. Pity.”

Egan nodded along, head bouncing in a way that hinted at his lack of sobriety. “Pity. Pity. Yeah. Pity, pity, pity. What?”

“I said it's a pity.” The RAF explained. “You'd have more if you flew your missions at night.”

The underlying tension returned like a heavy cloud just above their heads. 

Abby watched, shocked the Brit would bring the topic back up again. When his gaze darted her way, everything clicked in her mind. Confrontation. The bastard liked the tension and arguments. She had hurt his ego or something else equally foolish and now he needed to feel…something. Her brain could not even fathom what at this point. Her hazy thoughts darted away like minnows in a pond, back and forth, but there was one she finally scooped up. Without a second thought to the legitimacy of it, she poured it out onto the table. 

“Ohhh I get it.” She sat up and tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing to see past the fog in her mind. “You're just taking the piss outta them cause you're mad I wouldn't let you stick your hand up my dress.”

Byron barely looked her way as he sneered. “With the way you've portrayed yourself, it's clear you have a deficient lack of taste and standards.”

What tension hung over the table immediately redoubled at the scathing remark. What once had been a brewing storm cloud now transformed into a hurricane. 

“Sonofabitch.” Ken muttered, starting to rise from his chair. 

Abby narrowed her eyes and glared at the smug bastard. Yet in the back of her mind, the stinging thoughts from earlier hovered, as if the Brit's comment had unknowingly opened the door for their return. Stinging thoughts of inadequacy, of never being good enough…

To her surprise, Major Egan was the first to speak, breaking the shocked silence. “Why'd you have to go and say something like that? Especially about Slugger.” 

“Well, perhaps I was getting bored of all the heavy petting going on at your end of the table.”

Egan squinted his eyes. “I don't even know what that means. What's that mean?”

Veal echoed beside him. “What does that mean?”

The two men continued to question, seemingly conversing with only each other as everyone else remained silent.  

“What's that mean?”

“I don't know.”

“What's that mean?”  Egan finally turned back to the Brits, a hard glint in his eyes. 

Byron grinned, as if enjoying every moment of this. “Let's make a bit of sport ourselves. How about it? For the lady's honor.”

To Abby's further surprise, Gale was the first to reply, eyes like steel as he stared down the RAF pilot. “I think that's an excellent idea.”

Biddick's quiet, “Oh, here we go,” was lost as Egan started to stand only to be roughly shoved back into his seat by Gale. 

“Abby.” Ken got her attention, his own focus jumping between the Brits and herself. She could clearly see his want to protect her honor himself but also his concern for her wellbeing. “We can leave if you want…you-we don't have to watch.”

“No…no. I want to.”

“Okay.”

The two mechanics followed the crowd spilling out onto the dark street in front of the pub, only the full moon and stars illuminating them. Somehow word about the fight must have circulated since more members of the 100th emerged from the pub, drinks in hand and drunken cheers on their lips. 

“What does RAF mean?” Biddick called out as he finally stepped outside. 

“Riffraff.” Someone answered, much to the other's amusement. 

Abby was mildly stunned when she saw Biddick taking his jacket off and shaking his arms out. She thought Gale was the one to pick up the verbal gauntlet but she must have missed something. Perhaps he only meant he thought a fight was a good idea, not that he would be throwing the punches. From what gossip she heard, Gale was not much of a fighter, typically having to break up fights instead. But she could have sworn there was something in his eyes when he voiced his agreement….

Not that it mattered now. 

Her feet guided her to the edge of the impromptu boxing ring. A part of her envied Biddick, the foolish wish to trade places with him so she could defend her own honor and punch the asshole. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest, forcing herself to remain on for sidelines. However wonderful the retribution would feel, she could not risk the discipline. Not again. 

“You alright there, Abby?”

Caught up in her own swirling thoughts and wishes, she had not realized she placed herself between her cousin and Gale, the major standing within arm's reach. She glanced at him, noting his gaze focused on her. Warmth flooded her cheeks that was certainly a delayed reaction to all the alcohol she consumed. “I'm fine.” 

Before Gale could comment or refute her statement, Egan slung an arm around his shoulder, tugging him close. “Now why does this sport interest you?”

“Boxing?”

“Mm-mmm.”

Gale fiddled with the toothpick still in his mouth. “Test of manhood.”

“That so?”

“About as true a measure of your will to fight as any, and it's man-to-man.”

“Oh, so you just don't like team sports? How'd you end up commander of a plane leading a squadron in a war, where you don't want to be on the losing side, and still not like team sports?” Bucky nudged Gale's cheek with his fist. 

“I just don't lose sleep over whether the pinstripes beat the polka dots.”

Abby giggled to herself at Gale's response. 

Egan sighed, clearly not as amused at his best friend's humor. “Right. Well, we're all just uniforms anyway. You know that?”

Gale did not reply, his attention focused as the boxing ring solidified. Spectators, made up almost entirely of 100th Bomb Group, stood in a circle exchanging bets or holding onto their pints as they drunkenly cheered Biddick on. 

Cracking his knuckles, Byron stepped forward but instead of looking at his opponent, his gaze landed on Abby. She stilled under his brazen gaze, shocked by the audacity of him. 

“Hey, Curt!” She called out, holding the Brit's gaze. 

“Yeah, Abby?”

“Kick his ass.”

Biddick barked a laugh. “Yes, ma'am!”

If looks could kill, she would have been cremated twice over and that still would not satisfy the RAF pilot. His gaze had turned glacial cold and the corners of his mouth lifted in a sneer. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the company around her and the knowledge that the bastard could not hurt her with so many of the 100th surrounding her. With a shit-eating grin, she continued to hold his gaze until he looked away with a huff and roll of his shoulders. 

“Ya heard the lady, sounds like I've gotta kick your ass!” Biddick taunted, bringing his fists up. 

Byron scoffed. “I'll try not to step on you.” 

Biddick and the RAF pilot began circling each other, sizing one another up while those around threw out jeers of their own. 

“Now, seems like you like to do your fighting at night, Byron.” Biddick taunted. 

The Brit threw a swing that Biddick easily dodged. A few cheers sounded and as the Brit prepared to take another swing, but Biddick made his move. He lashed out with his own well-timed shot, knocking his opponent immediately to the dirty cobblestones.  

“Oof. Must have felt that, right?” Curt gloated, standing above his downed opponent. “Guess who can hit their target at night!”

The other RAF pilots call for space, pushing away spectators and gathering up their unconscious captain.

“How'd I do, dollface?” Biddick asked as he slid over between Egan and Gale, earning pats on the back from those around him. 

“You did good, Biddick.”

He wagged his finger at her. “No, no. You called me ‘Curt’, don't start this again.”

She giggled, despite herself. “Thank you, Curt.”

“As my lady commands.” Curt snagged her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

She laughed at the comical scene along with those standing around. After he released her hand, Egan lifted the victorious pilot and swung him around to the cheers of the men. 

“Never mess with the Irish!” Curt yelled with his hands up in the air. 

“It's a pity!”

“Oh, what a shame!”

Abby giggled as the merriment wandered down the dark road, with Egan almost dropping Biddick as he stumbled on the uneven cobblestones. She reached over and wrapped her arm around Ken's then leaned her head against his shoulder. By now she could feel the effects of the whiskey further, that loose tipsy feeling now held an strong undercurrent of tiredness. Her eyelids slipped closed for a moment as she sighed. 

“This was fun.” She murmured to her cousin. 

But the drawl that answered was most certainly not that of her cousin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

Her eyes snapped open and she wheeled back, stumbling on the cobblestones. Only the fast hands of Gale reaching out to steady her saved her from the embarrassment of falling onto her backside. 

“I'm so sorry…I thought you were Ken.”

“It's alright. Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He slowly released her forearms, as if worried she would slip to the ground without his touch. Which truthfully was not an irrational notion. Hyper aware of her body and how the ground seemed to shift ever so slightly under her feet, she took a cautious step forward and then another, arms held out for balance.  

“I did it!” 

He chuckled, taking the two steps to stand by her. “That's real good, Abby. Can you make it back to base?”

“Ohhh.” She glanced around. “Where's Ken?”

“I'm not certain. I think he left with the group.”

She sighed, eyes still looking around like Ken would pop out of the shadows. “He was next to me I thought…and we were going to walk back together…now I'm here alone.”

“I'll walk you back.” 

“You don't have too, I'm sure you want to walk with your Bucky and the others.”

He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think they left me behind as well.”

She looked around their surroundings, truly realizing that the group was no longer in sight. Actually, no one was in sight. “Oh. Where did they go?” They could not have gotten far in this short of time, she figured, mostly likely hidden by the buildings further up the road.

“I would assume back to base.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.”

“Shall we?”

She nodded, happy she would not have to make the trek alone. At this point she was unsure if she would even know where to go. Her thoughts were fuzzy like little caterpillars inching along, without direction or reason. But pretty at least. 

After one last look at the dark exterior of the pub behind them, Abby fell into step beside Gale. A companionable silence drifted around them like the breeze. Her mind wandered with each step, admiring the stars to dodging the potholes to eyeing the landscape on either side of the road they walked. Memories of the time at the pub glided through occasionally, bringing a smile to her face. She hoped they could go out again soon. 

While her mind wandered, her body remained alert to the man beside her; whose hand barely caressed her lower back when she misstepped, whose hand tentatively held her forearm when they maneuvered around a pothole, whose body radiated a warmth that was addicting…

Time was an abstract thought, all that mattered was the current moment…and at the current moment, her feet hurt. With each step she took, it was becoming harder and harder to stay steady. The cobblestones kept gripping onto her Mary Janes like vines trying to wrap around her feet and yank her down. The heels pinched and rubbed along her feet, having been unused for so long, what calluses she once had softened. 

“Ugh.” She stopped, unable to take it any longer. Reaching a hand over to grip Gale's arm and steady herself, she started on the buckles. 

“Are you hurt?” 

She barely heard his question as she mumbled under breath about stupid shoes and uneven roads. Finally, with a triumphant grin, she held up both shoes in her free hand. “Ta da! Now my feet are safe!”

He shook his head. “You'll tear your feet up without shoes on this road.”

She waved away his concern. “It's fine. I did it all the time as a child.”

“Abby–”

Giggling, she hugged his arm against her body and gazed up at him. “Please, Gale? Please?” 

He stared down at her. The surrounding darkness shielding some of their features, masking their expressions. After a long moment, he murmured a quiet ‘shit’ followed by a slightly louder, “alright, Abby.”

She giggled, nuzzling into his arm for a brief moment, closing her eyes to allow her brain to stop suddenly spinning. 

“You alright there?” He softly asked. 

“Hmmm…my head hurts.”

“Yeah? Do you need to go to medical?”

She shook her head, face still pressed against his arm. “Just need to sleep.”

“Alright, let's get you back to base.”

They started walking again, Gale leading the way down the dark road. Her arms still contained his arm, like a ship's mast to cling to during a storm, her head sometimes bumping against his shoulder. Her heels dangled from her hand, tapping against her thigh with each step. 

A soothing warmth rolled off of him in waves, skating across her skin and drawing her in. A small rational part of her screamed that her actions were unbecoming and inappropriate, an echo of her mother from far away. Yet that small voice was drowned out by the alcohol blazing through her veins and the chill of the night air, forcing her body to seek warmth where it could. 

Her hazy mind recalled the pub, the angry pilot and the fight outside. The flickering lights of the inside. Blonde hair and blue eyes staring at her from across the table. Those soft blues burning when he stood up to fight the RAF pilot…

“Thank you.”

“Mmm?”

“For…for standing up for me against that bastard.” Abby explained. “He wasn't nice.”

“Did he hurt you?” 

She stumbled, more from the frostiness of his tone than the actual road, but quickly righted herself. “No, but he finally got the message when I stomped on his foot with my heel.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. “I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Sluggar.”

“He was an asshole.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“An assy-asshole. A big one.”

He chuckled quietly.  

They walked further down the road with only the moon and starlight to guide their step and the distant sound of their companions up ahead, talking loudly in the otherwise quiet countryside. 

Abby tripped, pitching forward and almost dragging her companion down with her, if he had not wrapped both arms around her. 

“Why's the road moving?” She giggled, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against his chest. “I almost dropped my heels…I like these heels!” 

“Hey, you with me, Abby?” 

She ignored Gale's question as she looked down to the offender beneath her bare feet. “Stop moving! You'll hurt my heels!” 

“Christ…” He sighed. “Hold onto your shoes.”

“Why?”

“I'm gonna carry you.”

She owlishly blinked up at him. “Why?”

“You can't walk.”

“...I can't?”

He snorted while shaking his head, mumbling under his breath but all she caught was something vaguely resembling ‘adorable’, still too caught up in why she could not walk. Which made no sense. Her feet were still on the ground…even if the ground rolled like waves and she was a ship being tossed about.  She had been walking. Why was she not walking now? 

“Climb onto my back.” He commanded, keeping a hold of her hands as he turned to crouch in front of her. 

“I can walk…”

He groaned, tugging on her hands to draw them around his neck. “Darling, you're killin’ me. Climb on.”

“Okay, okay.” She tried to gracefully hug his back, but what grace she possessed disappeared about the same time the road was no longer stationary. A flop more described her accession onto his back. Her mind was vaguely aware that she was in a dress and the inappropriateness of the situation. But it was dark and she was tired…

Once her hands were secure around his neck, heels still dangling from her fingers, he slipped his arms under her legs. With a grunt, he stood. The motion caused Abby to burrow her face against the side of his neck. 

“You alright?” His voice rumbled out of him, soaking into her chest as she was pressed against his back.

“Hmmm…you smell nice. Better than Ken.”

He snorted. “Thank you.”

It was now with her feet exposed to the cool night air she could feel the sting of the air against the bottom of her feet. “My feet hurt again.”

“I figured. You kept stumbling and whimpering. I don't think you realized.”

“Oh. I think…I think I'm a little drunk?”

“Perhaps a little.”

The rocking of Gale's gait was making her stomach roll, so she stuck her forehead against his neck, trying to focus on his warmth and his musky cologne. “I don't know why. I only had a few shots of whiskey.”

“Mmm.”

“You know…I bet you're a good dancer.” She was unsure in the muddied pond of her thoughts where that one came from or why it slipped off her tongue so easily. 

“I don't dance often.”

“Why? That's terrible. I bet you're wonderful.”

He shrugged his shoulders, stride never wavering. “Doesn't appeal to me much, I guess.”

“Well, I'll take you dancing. It'll be fun! Maybe under the stars. They're always so pretty.” 

He hummed after a moment. “Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Okay!” She squeezed his neck as she giggled. “Don't go dancing without me! It'll be fun! I mean–I guess unless you find someone really pretty who wants to dance. Then it makes sense. But you should dance. You'd be wonderful.”

“I don't think you need to worry about that, darling.” 

“But there's so many pretty nurses on base…and those radio operators! They're all so pretty…and they like to dance.” She tried to make him understand. It truly was silly he did not dance. 

“Yeah, but I'm not interested in any of them.” The words coated in his raspy drawl floated around her head, something in them trying to catch her notice like little beacons. But their lights went out before her muddled brain could understand. 

“That's terrible for them. A lot of them have a crush on you.”

“Mmm.”

“Don't tell Major Egan. He'll be jealous.”

Gale gave a bark of laughter. “Your secret is safe with me.”

She pressed her forehead back against his neck. His warmth and the repetitive feeling of his breathing against her chest was lulling her to sleep. “I love the stars. No matter where you are, they're always beautiful.” The thought rolled off her tongue unprovoked, even as her eyelids drifted shut. 

“Buck?!”

The loud shout startled her from the inviting blanket of sleep wrapping around her. She blinked for a moment but allowed her eyes to close once again, face still against Gale's neck. 

“Yeah, John. It's me.” Gale called back. 

Two sets of footsteps approached, disrupting the quiet English night. 

“Any chance that's Abby with you?” Kidd asked. 

“Yeah, I've got her.”

“Good.” Kidd stated, falling into step with Gale on his left. “Ken was looking for her. I told him I figured she was walking with you, but apparently not walking.”

“She hurt her feet.” Gale explained softly. 

Egan loudly scoffed from Gale's right side.“Uh huh. That's the excuse you're going with?”

“Bucky–” 

“I'm just saying–”

Kidd interrupted, genuine concern in his voice. “Does she need to go to medical?”

“I'm fine, sir.” Abby sleepily slurred, her words muffled since she refused to move her face from its current position. “Can you tell the other one to stop being a damn loud asshat or I'll kick his ass.”

Gale chuckled, the vibrations going through her chest making her almost purr like a cat. If she snuggled closer to him, hoping to prolong the sensation, no one needed to know. 

“Slugger has a mouth on her!” Egan laughed, poking her arm. 

She grunted at the annoying sensation, hoping the major took the wordless reprimand or she would definitely kick his ass. After a nap. 

“Only when drunk it seems.” Gale answered his best friend.

“I'm not drunk…just a little drunk.” She mumbled. 

“My apologies. Just a little.” Gale softly replied, leaning his head against hers for a brief moment. She sighed at the contact, something loosening in her chest at the sensation although she was too drunk to put it into words. 

“Did you see that swing Curt made! I bet even Dimaggio can't swing like that!” Egan exclaimed. With his volume and enthusiasm, Abby might have noticed his own drunken state if she was sober. “I'm surprised you didn't want to take a swing at him yourself, Slugger.”

“ ‘m not allowed.”

Silence hung heavy over the group for several moments as the men tried to process her muffled response. It was Egan who asked the looming question first. 

“Not allowed? What's that mean?”

She sighed, turning her head to face Egan so he could understand her better. “After last time, Huglin told me he'd kick me off the airbase if I hit anyone else. Said it was unbecoming or something.”

The shocked silence lasted for all of three seconds before Egan exploded like a firecracker. 

“That sonofabitch! I knew I disliked him before but…Jesus Christ! Jack, did you know about this?”

“No.”

“I can't believe–” 

“John, he's gone.” Gale spoke up, trying to soothe his friend's righteous temper. “Nothing to do about it now.” 

“Thank God! I can't believe he's would–”

The tirade of Egan became background noise when Gale turned his head slightly towards her. “Abby.” Slowly she turned her face back towards him. A spark shot through her as his lips skimmed her forehead, while his whisper sunk like a seed planted into fruitful soil. “Next time something like this happens, you give me a nod. I'll take care of him for you.”

“Like tonight? That RAF prick?”

“Yeah. Like tonight…but I'll knock his teeth in instead of Curt doing it.”

She giggled. “I wanna see that.”

The rising and falling of voices up ahead like waves called her attention, guessing it was the group that abandoned them at the pub. She could see they had entered the airbase, although she did not remember her and Gale passing by the gate. Sleep danced around her mind like fireflies, tempting and teasing but she knew she would not be able to catch them yet. 

“I can probably walk now.”

“Are you sure?” Gale questioned without breaking stride. 

She hummed. “I'll be fine. It's not too far from here.”

Gale stopped walking, but instead of setting her down right away, he hesitated. His grip on her thighs twitched, tightening fractionally as if reluctant to let go. With a sharp release of breath, he finally helped her slide down. The warmth and strength of his hands continued to hold her upright as she found her balance back on the hard-packed ground. With her heels in one hand, the other hand ran down her dress, attempting to smooth any wrinkles and to confirm she was in no way indecent. Alcohol was freely skipping through her veins but not enough for her to forget her modesty. Or what was left of it after riding piggyback on Major Gale Cleven…

“Good?” He softly asked, hovering over her like a guardian angel. 

She nodded with faux confidence, standing upright and attempting to brush her hair over her shoulder. Mindful of the lack of space between them, she raised her gaze to meet his, wanting to thank him for helping her. Something he certainly did not have to do. Even though it was dark, she could feel those baby blue eyes earnestly staring down at her. His warm hands still loosely rested just above her elbows, maintaining their connection. 

“Abby?”

Unconsciously, she found herself tipping closer towards him, drawn back into his aura, his presence, that lean, toned body that was safe. It would be so easy to press her head against his chest, to wrap her arms around him and just dive into to the abyss of sleep summoning her. 

“Thank you.” She murmured, closing her eyes and doing just that. Her forehead landed on his breastbone, an initial sting but quickly ignored. Why did he smell so good? 

“You're welcome, darling.” 

His whisper barely floated on the breeze, words she almost missed if she had not felt them in her chest. 

“Mmm…I wanna sleep with you.”

Gale choked. His chest rumbled and sputtered like he was trying desperately to catch his breath, making Abby's head jostle uncomfortably. Something she did not like as she was oh so close to giving into sleep again. 

A sharp bark of laughter sounded nearby but that was irrelevant to Abby at the moment. 

“You're so warm…ugh, I'm so sleepy. Why does alcohol make me sleepy? I don't like it.” 

“Let's get you to bed.” Gale finally said, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“M'kay…”

Gale led her a few steps, her feet shuffling along. 

“KEN! SHE'S WITH US!” Major Egan shouted loudly. 

Less than a minute later, she could hear her cousin approach, an frantic undertone beneath his words. “Abigail Lemmons! Where'd you go? Shit! Is she hurt?” He directed that last question towards Gale. 

“Go away.” 

“She's fine, just drunk. The road was too rough on her feet.”

They answered at the same time, although her response might have been less words and more of a grunt. 

“Thank heavens.” Ken exhaled in relief, running his hand through his messy curls. “My family would have killed me if something happened to her.”

Ken reached out, attempting to take her hand. “Come on, let's get you back.”

“Nooo…” She swatted his hand away. 

“Abby.”

She swatted at him again, an irrational irritation bubbling up as he disturbed her almost sleep. “Go away, I'm sleeping with Gale.”

She missed the mixture of reactions of those who overheard her declaration, too focused on burrowing closer to the comfy warmth of the man holding her. God, she just needed to sleep! 

“For fuck's sake, Abigail!” Ken half groaned, half swore. 

Suddenly, Simon was there standing beside Ken. “Hey, Abby, I've got you. Let's get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep with the major tomorrow.”

Even as she felt her body being transferred from Gale's lithe form to Simon's muscular body, her mind refused to accept this and fought back with excuses. 

“Nooo…we're going dancin’ tomorrow. He's a good dancer.”

Simon chuckled, hauling her into his broad chest and carrying her bridal style. “I'm sure he is.”

“Wait…wait! Abigail?” Egan stumbled over, throwing his arm around his best friend's shoulders. “That's her real name?” 

“Yeah.”

“Where'd you think ‘Abby’ came from?”

The dark-haired major threw his head back laughing uproariously, “it's perfect!”

“You're drunk.” Gale tried, unsuccessfully, to corral his friend.

“What's perfect?” Ken asked. 

“Abigail! You get it? Abigail!” Egan drunkenly explained with all his sober confidence. “She's meant to have some 'Gale' inside her. Now all Buck has to do is make his move and stick–” 

But Egan did not get to finish explaining his epiphany as his best friend suddenly and viciously slapped a hand over Egan's mouth and pulled him into a headlock, growling something into his ear. 

“Goddamn children.” Kidd sighed from nearby. 

Abby blinked slowly, hearing the words but her fuzzy brain was unable to string it together to form a coherent thought. “I don't get it.”

“Don't worry about it. Let's get you to bed.” Simon chuckled. 

Ken called out, “night, majors!”

Abby glanced over, wanting to say her own goodbyes but with the way that Gale was attempting to suffocate Egan while Kidd watched on with his arms crossed, she guessed they were busy. 

She barely remembered Simon carrying her to her hut, only the night's cold nipping at her bare skin, and the muffled conversation between Ken, Simon and Winks. How she managed to get into bed will always be a mystery to her, somehow she must have been aware enough to fall onto her cot and not just curl up on the floor. Although in the morning she would wake up still in her dress with a hangover and a lot of explaining to do for those intrusive, inquisitive nurses she bunked with. 

All she did know as she drifted off, that night was the first time she had fallen asleep with a smile on her face in a long time. 

[daremna]

sources:

1. The Inferno, Canto 24, Gustave Dore 2. Nathaniel Orion G.K. 3. Supervert, Necrophilia Variations 4. Cassandra Clare, Dark Artifices 5. Death and the Maiden, Takato Yamamoto 6. William Shakespeare, As You Like It 7. @thatantisocialbitch 8. The Silent Voice (1989), Alfred Lord 9. author unknown 10. (the playwrights will write your names in the darkness of the sky) 11. Émile Jean Horace Vernet, The Angel of Death (1852) 12. A Midsummer Night's Dream (1937) 13. Margaret Atwood, Alias Grace 14. Eliza Crewe, Crushed 15. Yoshitaka Amano, The Endless Desire 16. Maram Rimawi 17. Farouq Jwaideh 18. Mary Shelley, Mathilda 19. Włodzimierz Błocki, Kiss of Death (1902) 20. Psalm 139:8 21. Jason Chan, Fall 22. Asmita Sengupta 23. Frederick Seidel, The Last Poem in the Book 23. Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid 24. Anne Bachelier 25. Konstantin Makovsky, Demon and Tamara

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 23

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader 

A/N: I just want to start by thanking everyone for all the love on this story so far. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. This chapter is a little heavier (as is the story going forward, but I'll include potential triggers for each chapter as relevant), so please read the TW below and only read on if you feel comfortable doing so.

Potential Trigger Warnings: none

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next few weeks pass by in a whirlwind. Jensen successfully persuades a New York-based production company to hire Mamma Jo’s to cater for their set. Each order is massive, requiring everyone to work a little later to cover the enhanced workload but it provides a steady income that almost entirely covers the rent, even with the added fuel costs for deliveries and the increased salaries. He asks me to officially take on the management position, this time with a pay rise. The added workload makes it harder to keep up with my studies, but the pay rise allows me to comfortably cover my bills for the apartment and help Anna so it’s worth it.

My contact with Jensen falls back to sporadic texts when I’m on break or on the subway but he constantly reassures me that he understands and is busy himself, while also slipping in warnings to look after myself and not burn myself out.

Before I know it, it’s opening night for Grease. I get to the theatre early for final rehearsals, hair, makeup and wardrobe fittings. My first costume consists of a simple white shirt, flowing green skirt and pumps, completed with a cream cardigan. Being in the ensemble, Alyson and I do each other’s makeup, a simple base with a touch of sparkle. I complete the look by styling my hair into a retro pinup bun. My job is just to fit in with the other ladies in the scene, but there’s no harm in trying to look my best. 

The wardrobe and hair and makeup department give us a once over, spraying obnoxious amounts of setting spray and hairspray over us as they give us the seal of approval to wait in the wings. We find a tiny crack in the curtains and peak through with excitement and trepidation as we watch the seats fill. While it’s not the largest theatre in New York, it’s by far the biggest I’ve ever performed in. Up until tonight my biggest performance was in a tiny production of Macbeth that I did as part of an assessment for a Performance and Skills class last year in the college’s teaching theatre with just a few other students and professors for an audience. The jump from an approximate 30-top audience to upwards of 1,000 has me sweating. I look over my shoulder and notice that Alyson is fairing no better. I reach for her hand and squeeze, and all of a sudden I’m glad I’m not the lead. As the lights dim and the overture starts playing, I feel a surge of adrenaline course through my veins.

The crowd falls silent as the leads, Mary and Jake, take to the stage fully in character laughing and giggling as ocean sounds fill the theatre. Despite my raging nerves, I just enjoy their performance from the wing. As the lighting changes and the crew seamlessly transform the beach into Rydell High I squeeze Alyson’s hand tighter. Once I hear the school lunch bell trill, us and the rest of the enemble enter the stage and perch on the lunch table and pretend to laugh and talk as the pink ladies and Sandy fill the table front and centre. 

The first act passes in a blur of music, dance, and dialogue. Every step, every word, every note is executed with precision, my heart pounding in time with the rhythm of the performance. As the final notes of the first act fade away and everyone clears the stage back to the dressing room for the intermission, I can't help but feel a sense of pride wash over me. Eventhough I know no one was focusing on me or likely even noticed me in the background, it’s such an accomplishment to just be up on that stage. I know from previous experience in the audience  and my classes that every role is essential, even the background actors and ensemble. The show wouldn’t be the same without them. So, I plan to give it my best every time I walk on that stage to help the leads shine and just enjoy every second. Now that I’ve got a real taste, I know there’s no going back.

After the show, as I’m walking out of the big theatre doors along with a couple of other cast and crew members someone tackles me into a hug. It doesn’t take me more than a second to hug back with a giant smile. 

“Stella! You made it!”

“There’s no way I’d miss my best friend’s first show on broadway!” 

I notice Nick and Anna standing off to the side with a massive bouquet of roses and we move out of the walkway. “Thank you all for coming! It means so much to know you were in the crowd.”

“We’ll always be there to cheer you on,” Stella replies happily and then nods at the bouquet. Nick holds out and I take it graciously, breathing in the intoxicatingly beautiful aroma. 

“You didn’t have to do this. Just being here is enough.”

“Uh, we didn’t actually. We’re just the messengers.” She pulls out a card from the side furthest from me and holds it out.

I don’t open it straight away. I know there’s only two options of who would send something so extravagant for my debut, but I already spoke to option one before the show and they apologised for not being able to make it to the debut, but promised that they would fly out during the week. So, knowing exactly who’s name is on that card, I slip it into my bag without opening it. 

Stella doesn’t question me. She knows I am working through everything at my own pace. “I could really go for a burger right about now,” she says to change the subject.

“I definitely worked up an appetite,” I agree.

So, the four of us walk to a nearby burger joint, order and then get a booth in the back. Once we sit down I place the flowers on my lap as Stella and Nick take the seat opposite Anna and me 

“Did he say anything?” I ask Stella.

“He just asked me to pick up the bouquet and get it to you. It was all already paid for and the card was already in it. I said that he had to fight his own battles. He promised he would.” She then quietly adds, “I may have also mentioned something about castrating him if he ever hurts you again…”

“Stella!”

“What? You’ve been hurt too many times before. But I’m here now. And I’m not scared of a fake monster hunter. Plus, us girls need to stick together.” She winks at Anna and she laughs – it’s a beautiful sound that we’re only just getting to hear.

Nick pats Stella’s knee and says, “She’s a force. But you’ve helped us so much. It’s now our turn to return the favor.” He looks at Stella with a knowing smile.

She looks at him and then back at me. “I think you should read the card.”

“You read it?”

“No, but I just think you should read it.”

As I pull it out of my bag the waitress comes over with our drinks and burgers. I take a sip of my soda before opening the card.

Hey Darlin’, You were amazing up there! You truly are a star! I hope this is the first of many times I get to see you shine. - J

I look up at Stella confused and she just says, “Take the back exit.” I look down at my untouched meal. “We’ve got it. Go!”

Still in shock, I grab the bouquet and my bag and sneak out the back door. I look around and see a black Range Rover parked to one side of the alley. The windows are dark so I can’t see in. I cautiously walk up to it and then the back passenger door pops open. “Jensen?” I call out softly, still unsure.

He slides to the edge of the seat and swings his legs out the door. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Me? What are you doing here?”

“I know things between us are still complicated. But I couldn’t miss your debut.” He offers his hand but doesn’t step closer. He waits for me to make the decision.

I hesitantly step forward and take his hand. “This doesn’t-”

“I know. But, I’ve gotta be back in Vancouver by morning. My flight leaves in a couple of hours, so, can we just…”

I nod and let him lead me into the car, out of the cold night air. “Hey Clif,” I say once I get in. 

“I think I’m gonna take a lap. I’ll be back in a bit, Boss. Nice to see you again, Y/N.” He steps out of the car and disappears down the alley. 

“I can’t believe you came. And these,” I hold up the oversized bouquet, “It’s too much.”

“I know you’re not the lead, but it’s a big deal. I was gonna get the flowers regardless, but seeing how happy you were up there. Even in the background, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You have a long career ahead of you and I just hope you’ll let me cheer you on from the sidelines, and maybe one day, front row when you’re the lead.”

“I’ve watched enough performances to know how important the ensemble is. I get to make the lead look good. And if I can do that, then maybe one day someone will be just as passionate about doing the same for me. Up on that stage…It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced and I never wanted the show to end.”

“You keep performing like you did tonight and it may never have to. This is just the beginning for you. I know it.” I notice his eyes flick down to my lips but I tun to look through the front windscreen.

“When did you fly in?”

“Last night. But I didn’t want to throw you off before your big night. And I swear I don’t have a big ego, I was just concerned that if you knew I was here you might get stressed and overthink things. And I just wanted you to go out there and give it your all. Exactly like you did.”

“Thank you.” I let myself relax a little and lean back against the cool leather seat as I look back over at him.

He lets out a breathy chuckle and nods. “Yeah…I may kinda suck at playing it cool. But then again I did coerce your best friend into letting me play at her wedding and then used her again to orchestrate tonight, so…”

“You really should leave poor Stella out of this. You’re taking advantage of her love for Dean.” I shake my head with a smile. “No one’s ever gone to so much trouble for me. My parents didn’t even make it tonight…”

“I’m sure they wanted to-”

“Yeah, they called and they’re coming later in the week. Their reasons were sound. It’s just…”

“You’re not used to being put first? I may’ve said a lot of dumb shit in the past, but of everything I’ve said, I did mean one thing with all my heart…I’m gonna prove that you’re my number one. I don’t expect you to believe it right away. But one day you will. I don’t care how long it takes or how much work I need to put in.”

“Jensen…” I smile at him and then teasingly ask, “How much have you had to drink?”

“Just a glass of wine during the show. I’m sober enough.”

I lean over and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for tonight. For coming, for being honest, for everything.”

“Much like your broadway career, this is just the beginning.” He puts his hand on my cheek softly to guide me to meet his eyes. “I know I’ve got a lot of walls to break through and a lot to prove and make up for. And I hope you hold me accountable for all of it. Give me a high bar. I want to be who you deserve, not someone else that you settle for.”

I nod. “Okay…But, what if I don’t know how?”

“I have a feeling you’re learning. You’re starting to realise your worth. But, really, just follow your heart and your gut. You know your fears and what you don’t like.” His eyes flick back to my lips and this time I don’t turn away. Instead I give him a small nod. He leans in and kisses me softly, his lips are soft and warm against mine. I close my eyes, savoring the moment, feeling a rush of emotions swirling inside me. When he pulls back, I can see the sincerity in his gaze, the vulnerability that he's allowing me to see. “I'll be patient, Y/N. I'll wait for you. Just promise me one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“That you won't give up on us before we even have a chance to begin. I know I let you down but-”

I smile, feeling the weight of his words but also the hope that they carry, and I cut him off by pecking his lips softly. “I promise,” I say softly, “But you have to promise to talk to me too. We can’t have a repeat of that night. Especially when it all could have been so easily avoided.”

He nods, “I promise.” He pecks my lips again and then pulls me close to snuggle up in his arms. “We don’t have long and you’ve been so busy. I want to know everything.”

“Jens-”

“No arguments. We don’t have time, just talk. I just want to be close to you and listen to you. Tell me anything.”

As I tell him about the changes at the cafe, my long hours, my upcoming exams and the relentless rehearsal schedule which will now turn into daily shows, he hugs me close. He peppers soft kisses over my head and slowly drifts down to my neck as he offers intermittent hums of agreement or approval. I try not focus on his smile or hot breath against my skin and just keep talking instead.

When I stop talking he pulls away. “Was that okay? Not too much?” I shake my head. “You let me touch you when you’re talking. You’re comfortable, relaxed. Even on those first nights…I love you like that.” He pulls away abruptly when he realises what he said.

I pull him back for a quick peck. “I know what you mean. It’s okay.”

He nods. As he leans in to kiss me again, we’re startled by the front door opening. I pull back abruptly and stare at Clif. “Sorry to interrupt. I gave you as long as I could. We have to get to the airport.”

Jensen looks down at his watch, “Shit, already?”

I gather up the bouquet and my bag that dropped on the floor preparing to get out but Jensen grabs my arm. “We’ll drop you off on the way.” I go to unzip my bag to get my phone but he stops me, “They know. They’ve probably already gone home.” He takes his hand off mine, “But she’s your friend, if you want to check that’s fine.”

“It’s late, Nick would’ve forced her to sleep by now.” I see his slightly worried look at my choice of words and add, “Not in a bad way. She’d stay up all night and then sleep in and be grumpy at work. He does it for her own good. No one could truly make Stella do anything she doesn’t want to do or that she doesn’t know is in her best interests. She’s a force.”

“Yeah…She definitely seems like it,” Jensen says as Clif starts the engine. We both put our seat belts on as he pulls out of the alley. 

“Don’t worry, she won’t actually castrate you…unless you hurt me again…”

“Well, good thing I don’t plan on ever doing that again. But uh, thinking of work…Please tell me you don’t have an early start…”

“I’m used to it. Plus, I’d gladly trade a few hours sleep for the time we had tonight. I truly didn’t expect it. But what about you? It’ll be morning by the time you get back, especially with the time difference.”

“I have a late shoot tomorrow. So, don’t worry about me.” He smirks, “Actually…Maybe you can worry about me a little when I’m out there freezing my ass off in the middle of the night.”

Before long, Clif pulls up in front of my building. I don’t bother correcting them and telling them that I’ve been staying at Stella’s house. I don’t want them to go further out of their way for me, plus it would be nice to spend a night in my own bed. I undo my seatbelt and look over at Jensen with a smile. I put my free hand on the handle, but before I pull it open I turn and kiss his cheek again. “Text me when you get back? You came all the way out here for me, I want to know when you get back safe.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” I nod and jump out quickly before I hesitate any longer and make him miss his flight, or make Clif feel awkward. I stand on the sidewalk and wait until the car disappears into the distant traffic before making my way into the building.

As I step out of the cold night air, I can still feel the lingering warmth of Jensen’s touch on my cheek and his lips on mine. It brings a smile to my face as I kick off my heels and place the bouquet of roses in a vase of water on the kitchen counter. The events of the evening replay in my mind like scenes from a movie, each moment etched into my memory.

My phone buzzes with a text message, and I eagerly pick it up to see a message from Jensen: 

Thank you for an amazing night Sleep well, beautiful

I can’t help but blush at his words, feeling a rush of emotions flooding back.

Settling onto the couch, I let out a contented sigh and close my eyes, allowing myself to relive the evening once more. Despite the uncertainties and challenges ahead, there is a glimmer of hope blooming in my heart. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something real and beautiful.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27, @n-o-p-e-never, @deansimpalababy,

@winchesterwild78, @kr804573, @chriszgirl92, @smoothdogsgirl

@speakinvain, @deans-baby-momma, @1967winchesterimpala

@lmg14, @superrey

[raina-at]

Mouse

In celebration of this fandom and how much fun I'm having right now, with the May prompts and the fic club, have a bonus ficlet set in my theatre universe . (Another one of my AUs ticked off the list) (short premise for those not familiar: John is a stage manager and Sherlock is an actor. Mary, Molly and Sally are all part of John's crew.)

This is especially for @totallysilvergirl and the members of the Johnlock fic club. You all know why.

Warning, mention of an accidental animal death.

Also, this is loosely based on a true story.

-------

“What on Earth are you doing?”

“Be quiet,” Molly shushes Sherlock as she drags him through the stage door into the green room area.

“Oh thank god.” John sighs in relief as he sees Sherlock enter the room. “Save me from this madness.”

“Sit back down, Watson, this is all your fault after all!” Mary snaps. She’s pregnant again and the glare she gives him is filled with the homicidal rage of the permanently uncomfortable.

John sits back down and sighs. “Okay, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Molly pushes Sherlock into a chair. “You be quiet now, we’ll be done in five minutes.”

Molly sits on Mary’s other side on the floor and takes Sally’s hand, completing the circle.

Mary gestures to Molly. “Do you have the object?”

Molly produces the live mousetrap and puts it in the middle of the pentagram Mary has drawn on the floor. 

“I hate to repeat myself, but what the actual fuck are you doing?” Sherlock asks, watching them with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. 

They all turn their heads in surprise, because they all know how rarely Sherlock swears. 

“We’re doing an exorcism,” Molly explains. “John killed a mouse and now we’re haunted.”

“I didn’t, I repeat, DID NOT kill a mouse!” John very nearly yells, sick and tired of this argument. 

“You left the live trap open over a bank holiday weekend,” Mary growls. “The bloody mouse sprung it, died of thirst in it, and ever since we’ve had one accident after another. First my fucking brand new moving head blew on its second night, then Molly twisted her ankle, and yesterday you were nearly hit by a stage wall.”

“So did I understand this correctly? You, rational, adult, competent professionals, had a few easily explained accidents and then came to the inevitable conclusion that you’re being haunted by the angry spirit of a common house mouse?” Sherlock asks, steepling his hands under his chin. 

“Duh,” Molly mutters, rolling her eyes. 

“Anything to say, genius?” Mary asks, glaring at Sherlock in a way that makes John hope that Sherlock will consider the words that come out of his mouth next very, very carefully.

“You need sage,” Sherlock says after a moment of silent contemplation. “And candles.”

“You’re not fucking serious!” John stares at Sherlock as if he’s grown a second head, which would frankly have surprised John just a tiny bit more than the current development. “You’re superstitious? Since when?”

“All actors are superstitious,” Sherlock says, ducking into the tiny theatre kitchen. “It’s the better safe than sorry principle.” He comes back with mixed herb salt and some tealights. “This should do nicely. Budge over.” 

He sits between Sally and Molly and takes their hands.

“This must be what going mad feels like,” John mutters, but he takes Mary’s and Sally’s hands and completes the circle.

Mary shushes him and lights the candles. Then she shakes a bit of the salt over the live trap. She turns to John and gestures to the trap. “Now apologise.”

“But I—”

“I said,” Mary says with a smile sharper than a battleax. “Apologise.”

John clears his throat. “Um.” The thing is, he is sorry. He never meant to cause an animal’s death, even indirectly. They only ever use live traps for a reason. But he feels slightly ridiculous all the same. 

He knows this is necessary, though. Theatres are places where legends and superstitions and rituals live for generations. Case in point, no theatre person in their right mind would ever refer to the Scottish play by its actual name. Case in point, you never say good luck backstage. This is no different, he knows this.

Of course the knowledge doesn’t stop him from feeling completely ridiculous as he says, “I’m sorry, mouse spirit. I didn’t mean for you to die. Please forgive us and stop haunting our theatre. We’re really sorry.”

He puts a piece of cheese into the trap, and every member of his crew follows suit. Sherlock contributes another sprinkle of the herbal salt, and then Mary, in lieu of setting the trap on fire, which would trigger the smoke alarm, bashes it in with a cricket bat. It’s horribly loud, but the trap is unusable afterwards.

“Be at peace, little mouse,” Molly whispers, and John can see the tears in her eyes.

They all share a long look over the mouse trap, and then they burst out laughing.

“You’re all insane,” Sherlock says, but he’s laughing as well, and there’s a lot of affection in his voice.

“Yup,” John answers, still giggling a bit. This is my crew, he thinks. Dangerously foul-tempered, certifiably insane, scarily silly at times. And I couldn’t love them more for it. He looks at Sherlock, who’s watching him with sparkling eyes and so much unguarded affection, and he smiles. “And you fit right in.”

----

Tags under the cut as usual.

@calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @catlock-holmes @peanitbear @meetinginsamarra @friday411 @inevitably-johnlocked

[birgittesilverbae]

teaser: a day of clouds and darkness

a the martian au

//

"Commander, she's gone," Lilith says.

"I can't leave her!" Beatrice ducks her head against the blowing wind, keeps pushing onwards in the direction of the Hab, sweeping her feet wide as she goes. She can't give up on her, she won't give up on her–

"Bea, you need to–" Camila starts.

"She'd look for us!"

Mary's voice breaks through. "Beatrice, if the MAV goes over, we're all fucked."

"Commander," Yasmine chimes in, "you need to get to the ship."

"Negative. I will not leave a man behind."

"Beatrice," Mary snaps, "I'm a fucking fantastic pilot, but if you're not aboard in the next two minutes, I'm not gonna be able to save us."

"She's gone, Bea," Lilith adds, more softly than Beatrice has ever heard her speak. "Ava's gone." 

Beatrice clears her throat. "Villaumbrosia, I'm transferring command of the Ares 3 mission over to you, effective immediately."

"Commander–"

"Protect your crew, Commander. Zhang out." Beatrice chins her comms channel closed, steels her spine, and keeps moving forward.

//

Beatrice is restless as she waits for the storm to die down. She circles the Hab, tidies up the detritus left behind in the wake of the mass exodus, stores away equipment, wipes down surfaces. The wind whistles across the Hab canvas, an eerie sound, mournful and wailing, and Beatrice tries desperately to focus on that, on cataloguing the last batch of soil samples they'd brought in earlier, on tallying up the food stores, on anything but what the next task will be once the planet grows silent.

She fails. Image after image of Ava's body flashes through her mind as she flips through the food packets. Face shield shattered, cheeks frosted over. Gash torn across the front of her suit, blood spilling out just as vibrant as the regolith, crystallising into ice pellets in an instant. At the base of the MAV platform, so near to safety, scorched by the engine burn of the MAV's ascent. 

The clunk doesn't register immediately. She jots down her tally of egg packets, then goes still, thoughts screeching to a halt, as the airlock's atmospheric regulator cycles into action.

A clunk. The airlock cycling.

A clunk. 

The airlock cycling.

Beatrice's heart climbs into her throat. She sprints across the Hab, presses herself against the door, shields her eyes with her hand as she peers through the porthole.

Nothing. No one. No Ava. Just the hum of the airlock equalising. A crossed wire, maybe. Some interference from the storm. Beatrice slumps forwards against the airlock, her breath shaky in her throat, and swallows down a sob.

She rests there until her breathing steadies, until she thinks maybe she can stand on her own. She pushes herself back fully upright, scans the Hab, trying to form a plan of attack, to lay out next steps.

The airlock cycles open behind her. 

She digs her fingernails into her palms and takes a deep breath. A crossed wire, maybe. Some interference from the storm.

But then there's a rustle of fabric. The thud of hard plastic against metal. A raspy inhalation. A groan.

Beatrice turns degree by slow, agonising degree.

A suited figure lies slumped halfway through the inner airlock. An arm reaches up, fumbles at seals, pries their helmet free.

Ava tips her head back, groaning at the motion, and gives Beatrice a crooked upside-down grin. 

"Hey, Bea. What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Crewmate: Death The Kid

“HOW DARE THESE INSIPID BRAIN-DEAD IMPOSTERS RUIN MY PERFECTLY EVEN NUMBER OF CREWMATES!?!?!?”

For some reason, the rest of the crew isn’t all that confident in him 

He wonders why?

But as the son of the infamous captain—Death, he will not let these imposters go unpunished 

He can’t forgive the danger they pose to his favorite person and his rise to stardom

Oh…yeah…and…the crew too…he’ll save them too

He doesn’t know why he’s so interested in you

You're not symmetrical in the slightest

You’re not perfect in any way he’ll say as he blushes and scoffs

When you're not wearing your suit none of your undergarments match he knows he checked

He doesn’t know why he replays your actions on the security cameras for hours on end

Or why he demands all your tasks be shifted to his sectre

But you’re just so aggravating

you keep wandering away from his watchful eye

Of course, he’d end up falling in love with an absolute dolt

Well, all this means is that he has to root out the imposter even sooner by any means necessary:

The child of the infamous Captain of Death was having quite a dilemma. In secret, he was able to patch communications with the Innersloth headquarters where his father was stationed and he was finally able to report the anomaly of the imposter. 

“Hmmm I see and in the meantime you’ve been ejecting those you suspect?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, those we’ve voted to eject have confirmed to be humans, meaning the imposters continue to murder the crew.”

“Perhaps they have plans to invade the entire station…this is an incident of highest alert! You must find the imposter! Who do you suspect as I’m sure you’ve kept keen observation on all of them?” 

Golden eyes drifted from the monitor to the wall of cameras, currently all on a single crewmate. 

“Aye, I was hoping to completely clean the Skeld of all possible imposters or any that may be infected.”

“...All of them? That’s quite a…bold decision….are you sure there is no one other than yourself that can be cleared of suspicion? What about your bodyguards?”

“No everyone has proved to be a possible threat…all for one.”

Death tilted his head at the flutter of pink that seemed to come over his son's face. Clapping his hands together and closing his smiling eyes(?).

“Ah-! I see! There is a crewmate you can most definitely confirm that they are not the imposter?”

“YES! I’ve sent their blood tests and a sample of their blood. ALL OF WHICH WERE TAKEN CONSENSUALLY.” 

A speculative eyebrow raised at the loud proclamation but the renowned captain shrugged as he continued to rifle through the evidence delivered to him. While he wasn’t fond of the idea, he’d sooner lose the dwindling crew of the Skeld than compromise the entire Innersloth headquarters. 

“Alright then! I’m giving you my biiiig stamp of approval!” With a smile and his iconic thumbs up, he only got his son’s deadpan response. With a nervous cough, he put on a serious face–one that lived up to his name.

“Now, how do you plan to clean the ship of the imposter waste?”

Kid silently preened at the word to which he responded with a grim gleeful smile. 

“The old fashion way will do. I promise to return the Skeld in its pristine condition. All I ask is that you prepare the families for the atrocious state that the imposter left the bodies in.”

__________________________________________________________

You patted your hysterical crewmate on the back as you silenced the crackling your snack’s packaging would have made. 

“H-hey, it’ll be okay…uh…miss?”

“Marie!” 

“Right it’ll be okay Marie.”

Somehow the name made her burst into another bout of tears as she moved to cry on your shoulder. You continued to pat her back completely lost on how to console the woman so clearly having a breakdown. 

And at an almost perfect time, the airlock of the sliding door hissed as it opened, letting the perfect distraction make his way into the room. 

“Oh hey, Cap’n Kid? What’s up?”

He seemed to twitch with annoyance, you wondered if it was the nickname you used for him. The murderous golden glare on the blonde crewmate on your shoulder said otherwise. Nonetheless he seemed to shake that off before standing straight.

“Agent (Y/n), you need to come with me!”

“Uhh,” You looked to Marie,” right now?”

He gritted his teeth, “Yes. Right. Now.”

He turned and began walking in the speedy way that he usually did; spurring you to follow him. As caring as you could be you disconnected the teary-faced Marie as you assured her you’d be back soon before running to catch up to the symmetry-obsessed captain. 

“So Cap where we headed?”

“Somewhere.”

“Somewhere?”

“Yes. Somewhere.”

He undid his glove putting his thumbs on the pristine smooth surface of the untouched screen. Which unlocked a series of vault-like doors that led deeper than any part of the Skeld. He did this a few more times walking confidently down these mile-long stretches of hallways to lead to a pod. 

“Uhm Kid, what is this place?”

“...”

He didn’t speak, instead, he opened the doors to the pod and stepped aside as he waited for you to hesitantly enter. You were half expecting to find some horrible torture chamber but instead were pleased to find a place mirroring your own room surrounded by the collection of your favorite space-friendly food. 

“Wow look at all this–”

Slam *Click*

“W-what?!” 

You turned to the door to see your captain smiling widely in the window of this pod. 

“By entering the Captain’s pod you have contractually agreed to be rescued from the Skeld and have thus become one of the sole survivors of the imposter’s massacre.” 

You stood up quickly preparing to bang against the glass only to stop at the haze of dizziness that took over you with a colored smoke through an unknown spout. It was a very short time before you attempted to go to the bed only to crumple asleep against the foot of the bed; leaving you entirely helpless as the pod smoke cleared and the pod door slid open. 

Kid entered giving a wistful sigh of euphoria before scooping you up and laying you haphazardly across the bed.

“Perfectly imperfect,” he moaned, wiping the drool from his mouth. Pulling out his gloves, he dawned them with symmetrical grandeur.

“Now, it’s time I begin the purge of all the imposters!”

[wanderingmoonmen]

Hi! I just wanted to come here and gush about how much I love your half doomed and semi sweet series real quick! I binged it all in two days and you guys have done such a good work on it. I honestly think the first installment is probably one of my favorite pieces of fanfic ever just due to how great the mix of character interaction and action is within the fic. I also just adore how Mary is handled with James and how he realizes that Mary wouldn’t say a lot of the stuff his hallucinations are saying but also it’s still overwhelming and hurts despite this! I’ve also been enjoying the lot more day to day ness of the sequel fic too, where issues still come up but it’s also not, running from monsters all the time (unless those monsters are silent hill remnants/bad thoughts, sorry James!).

I don’t know if it’s ever detailed anywhere, but what exactly inspired you to write the sequel fic if you don’t mind me asking?

aaaaa this has been sitting in my inbox for a bit because I saw the nice words and it makes me melt into a puddle and I want to take time to properly answer your question. Thank you ❤️

I ended up writing way too much in my answer so the tldr; I have way too many thoughts and ideas and with @fly-rye 's encouragement and participation we're now in a place where there's a whole timeline and already drafted events still out there to do.

My ramblings and more detailed explanation under the cut

I think in the preface to Promise, or somewhere, I've said that literally all of this started as a joke. I'm also going to keep to my guns of coming up with it back in 2018 (albeit a joke that I kept to myself lmao). I had sort of kept my 'joke' meeting in some sort of filing cabinet in my mind. And honestly if @fly-rye wasn't a super cool and amazing friend and didn't indulge my bullshit we wouldn't be here (also I'm pretty sure that DBD audio of Leon sounding very......... y'know affected it too. I also started a playthrough of RE4 on Oculus at the same time. Also also this literally started I swear a couple months before remakes were formally announced.) ANYWAY this isn't an answer to your question, I just like rambling.

Now that sort of plays into what inspired the sequel, I think I am a 'too many thoughts head full' type of person and just have too much to say sometimes (and perhaps also too much imagination). I also like trying to explain things so the in-fiction lore makes sense (like... extensively thinking about how to actually for real explain how James got to Spain or What Is The Scientific Explanation For Silent Hill etc etc. I just like to make things Work in my head, idk how to explain it).

When Promise turned into a project, there was more serious thought into how their relationship worked and how to explain Leon's character changes in future media. Then it was a thought of 'how could things be better for the both of them?' Or 'what if they were allowed to heal and grow as people' and whatever else that can be narratively satisfying about seeing hurt people finding each other and helping each other.

Then that turns into 'let's put that thing into a situation.'

Which, of course, there are A Lot Of Situations considering Leon has... 4 movies and 1 game he's in after RE4.

There's also the interest of exploring the mechanics of Silent Hill and exploring how SH3/SH4 can become entangled with the mess.

There's then the flip side of the domestic life and living as """""normal"""""" people.

So to fill the gaps between Situations we've brainstormed a Lot of timeline stuff and certain relationship beats that should occur (yknow like their gay wedding, spoilers). I'm also trying to show how James integrates with the rest of the RE crew and with Harry and Heather.

So... Basically I've thought... a lot about how to make their ship and this universe integrate into all the canon events and have some random drafts for it (of course much credit goes to @fly-rye to a) indulging me b) getting sucked into this c) being super supportive d) brainstorming the Situations with me) because there's just so much potential!!

Now, this is kinda where I get stuck and why there hasn't been more posted, if you're wondering

I like to be thorough and in my head I think I need to explain and show character development in detail because, again, in my head, I think it'll then be viewed as 'bad' or idk, 'not well written' or 'not making sense' (as if any of this makes sense). So I feel like I need to show how these relationships develop so it's more convincing or whatever. I think about how some media is panned or criticized for bad relationship writing, ie 'we've been best friends for 10 years and he really helped me out, right bob?" Like who says that.

So in starting PE I wanted to try and thoroughly and logically explain how we get to the current point.

Obviously this is also literally fanfic and [insert meme here] it's my AU and I can do what I want [just tell you This Is How It Is]

But... I'm not great at writing fluff or character interaction stuff just for the sole purpose of development. I thrive on hurt/comfort and angst stuff (if that wasn't obvious) whereas trying to come up with story beats for a beach trip or something is much more difficult for me. So I've struggled to move forward because it's just not my forte and it takes practice and patience...

Unfortunately, I can be rather impatient.

It's really annoying when you're trying to be thorough! So even when I've got a plan, I just get annoyed with my writing because I just wanna get to the good stuff!!! Why can't I write this out faster!!!! I need to beam my thoughts into a document!!!

I keep on feeling like I'm making empty promises, but I do really wanna keep writing and posting. I am trying and I think about sitting down and writing a lot, but between all those other hangups and not having time, I just haven't.

I know a lot of this isn't exactly what you asked, but I hope it answers your question and then some. Thank you again for reaching out it means a lot to hear from readers!!!

[kazoosandfannypacks]

do you have any ouat headcannons that you haven't been able to share but want to? angsty? Fluffy? even fav characters fav food?

*searches "headcanon" in dms with my bestie and compiles a list*

Will Scarlet and Aladdin were roommates in Storybrooke at some point. Not "oh my gosh, they were roommates" but actually "two broke theives splitting rent on an apartment" roommates.

Anytime Killian has to pick up pads or tampons for Emma he also buys her chocolate.

The doorknob on Emma's house gets replaced with a door handle because it's more hook accesible.

There was a holiday in the Enchanted Forest called "King's Day" which was supposed to be a day to celebrate the king. Hook and his crew would always celebrate by committing crimes (which I briefly touched on in my Christmas fic) but Killian decides to bring the tradition to Storybrooke, taking the day off from sheriffing to commit as many "crimes" as possible, with Emma chasing him around Storybrooke trying to stop him from committing as many crimes as possible.

Killian hates the sound of ticking clocks and can't figure out why, so Emma buys him a digital watch and he becomes obsessed with the silent timepiece.

In 200 years, there's no way Killian's never slipped up and accidentally called David "love." Like I'm sure it's happened at least once, and definitely after Killian and Emma get married. They're both super embarassed but Emma and Mary Margaret think it's the funniest thing ever.

Emma went through a pirate phase as a kid.

Idk how firmly I subscribe to this headcanon, but when Zelena tried to drown Killian in season 3, it actually did kill him, and Emma actually used True Love's Kiss there to bring him back.

Evil Snow in the Heroes and Villains universe killed Stealthy in that timeline- which adds even more depth to her killing Doc and saying "now there's six. want me to make it five?"

Killian is a language nerd. He still remembered ancient languages he learned in the navy a couple centuries later, and that doesn't happen unless you practice, and he wouldn't do that unless he wanted to.

[sidenote on above: the reason he refers to the runes Regina draws in s5 as "squiggly lines" is because they don't actually spell out anything; they're just random letters {I know, I've translated them} so Regina really has just reduced the runes to just being "squiggly lines.]"

Gold refused to trade for Killian's dabloons, using the excuse that "I spin straw into gold, why would I need these?" (but really it was just to be petty.) As soon as Gold left Storybrooke in season 4 and Belle took over the pawn shop again, Killian immediatley threw 87 dabloons on the counter and was like "can I please trade these in for money?"

Killian Jones eventually becomes a Jonas Brothers fan

A lot of Emma's cursed NYC memories in S3 were actual memories Regina had of raising Henry.

and uh, i think that's all i got for now! thanks for asking!

[mrsportgas]

Ghost Ridders Cap.4

#Summary: Eight years ago, you were taken against your Will to Mary Goise to become the new slave of Saint Roswald, or rather, to living a hell on earth. One day, while you go with  him on a visit to a New World´s  island in the New World, but a familiar face appears. This creates the perfect opportunity for you to escape, join the Whitebeard Pirates, and discover more about your past, your abilities, and who you really are. All  while you try to endure your new crewmate, Portgas D. Ace, who is incredibly annoying... or perhaps incredibly irresistible? You haven't decided yet.

This story is based in the world of One Piece, with the same characters and timeline. Of course, this story is fiction created by me. Some of the timelines, names, and characters might be the same, also some names, characters, stories, or even personalities may be altered. The story is happening pre-time skip, while strawhats are in sabondy for the first time.

The first chapter is an introduction to the current story, which begins with Ace as your central romance. (This romance may shift to other characters as the story progresses, but don't worry, there's still plenty of Ace to come.) The story is written in first person. Female gender, Y/N, but feel free to change the gender, name, or anything else that makes you more comfortable.♡

Feel free to interact, likes and comments are very welcome!!!!!!! this hepl me keep writing!!! Suggestions and constructive criticism are also appreciated. Images are for more inspiration!!!!!

Previous Chapter.

The bartender's smile faltered slightly, a flash of something unreadable passing through his eyes. His overly enthusiastic demeanor shifted to something more reserved, perhaps even slightly annoyed. "Of course," he said, forcing a chuckle as he turned away to attend to other customers.

Ace stood there for a moment, watching the bartender’s retreating figure before finally turning his gaze back to me.

"What was that about?" I asked, gesturing to the empty glass in his hand. "I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

"Great! To be honest i had enough. I'm going back to the ship," I sighed.

"Fine, I'll go with you. Just in case that guy decides to come back," Ace declared.

"I can go alone, Ace. I don't need a babysitter," I replied clearly annoyed as I got up from the chair.

As I reached the exit, I saw out of the corner of my eye how the bartender smiled at my presence. He was kind of cute.

-------------------------------------------------------------

I was walking through the lively streets of the city, heading toward the ship, when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned, ready to fight if necessary. Ace, with his characteristic cocky smile, was looking at me from behind.

"Get lost, Ace," I said as I continued on my way.

"I can't let anything happen to Marco's cute little sister," he responded as he approached me. "Besides, you're the one who crossed my path. I was just heading to the ship to... get something."

I rolled my eyes and kept walking. We both remained silent until we reached my cabin. I was about to open the door, but Ace was still behind me.

"What's wrong? Do you want to sleep with Marco?" I asked Ace as he looked at me with a smile on his face—he was drunk. "Maybe you two can sleep together, in the same bed and everything. I'm sure he'd love the idea."

Ace placed an arm on the doorframe, right next to my face, and getting closer than I’d like (though I really did like it), he said, "You can stay in your room with Marco and his snoring... or you can come with me. You won't regret it." He said while caressing my cheek with his other hand.

I have to admit, Ace's proposal was too tempting, but I didn't want to complicate things. I had just joined this crew, and I didn't want things to get awkward because of one night.

"Maybe another time," I responded as I opened the door and walk in as fast as i could to escape the situation.

Ace's hands grabbed my waist from both sides. His large, strong hands held my entire body. "My room is at the end of the hallway. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. You... can come whenever you want," he whispered in my ear, just loud enough for me to hear. "Well, I'm heading back to the bar," he continued as if nothing had happened. "The party will fall apart without me." And with that he desapeared.

I entered the room, still in shock from everything that had just happened—the party, the bartender, a smiling Deuce, and Ace...

Marco lay peacefully snoring on the other side of the room.

"So, in the end, it really is Marco, me and his snoring..." I thought to myself.

I fell asleep surprisingly quickly, my dreams filled with all the events of that night. Suddenly, I woke up. Noises and voices could be heard in the distance until silence once again reigned in the rooms.

"ACE!!!" A moan echoed through the hallway.

Was it my imagination? No. The moans, coming from a voice that was unfamiliar to me, continued.

Ugh, had Ace brought someone back? After everything he had said to me? I couldn't believe it. It was just another one of his games. But, to be honest, I'd rather listen to Marco's snoring than someone screaming Ace's name.

--------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up the next morning, remembering what had happened, and my stomach twisted.

I got dressed and headed to the dining hall. Most of the crew was there, eating and talking about the previous night. Among the crowd, I spotted Ace with Marco, Tatch, and... next to him, a blonde girl I had never seen before. At that moment, I started connecting all the dots. He probably went back to the bar and brought someone along, one of the many who were more than ready and willing to go with him to the ends of the earth.

As I approached the dining area, I could feel my heart sinking. The sight of Ace laughing and chatting with the blonde girl felt like a punch to the gut. It was silly, I told myself. I had no claim on him, and it wasn't like he had promised me anything. Still, the way he had spoken to me last night, the way his hands had lingered on my waist, had made me believe, even for just a moment, that I was special to him.

I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts as I entered the room. The din of the crew's chatter filled the air, but my focus was squarely on Ace. He hadn't noticed me yet, too engrossed in his conversation. I hesitated, unsure if I should approach or just slip away unnoticed. Before I could make a decision, Marco spotted me and waved me over.

"Morning," Marco greeted with a warm smile, oblivious to the turmoil inside me. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," I lied, forcing a smile. My eyes flickered to Ace, who was now looking directly at me. There was something unreadable in his gaze, a flicker of recognition, perhaps even guilt, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Join us," Marco offered, pulling out a chair next to him. I hesitated for a moment, but refusing would have seemed odd, so I took a seat, trying to ignore the blonde sitting across from me.

"So, did you enjoy the party last night?" Tatch asked, leaning forward with a grin.

"Yeah, it was... interesting," I replied, my tone more flat than I'd intended. I could feel Ace's eyes on me, but I refused to meet his gaze. Instead, I focused on the plate in front of me, pushing around the food with my fork.

"Interesting, huh?" Marco chuckled, but his eyes narrowed slightly as if sensing something was off. He was always perceptive, too much for his own good.

"Yeah, you know how these things are," I replied with a shrug, trying to play it cool. I was about to take a bite when I heard a laugh, bright and carefree, coming from the blonde. She leaned closer to Ace, touching his arm as she spoke, and I felt my stomach twist again.

I finished breakfast as quickly as I could, eager to escape the dining hall. I got up and said my goodbyes, feeling the curious eyes of my crewmates on me, and headed to the library. If I wanted to be a good doctor, I had better start studying.

When I arrived at the library, I found Deuce sitting at one of the tables, reading a book. "Didn't expect to see anyone in the library," he said without looking up from his book.

"Someone once told me this was a good place if you don’t want to talk to anyone... or if you wanted to hide..." We exchanged a knowing smile.

I spent the day in the library, talking with Deuce about medicine, sharing books, and exchanging small tips. Marco even stopped by for a few hours, giving us a lesson on how to use certain plants to treat deep wounds.

The sun was just about to set on the horizon. Kotatsu and I were cuddled by the window, watching the sunset when someone gently touched my shoulder.

"Y/n..." Izou's voice pulled me out of my trance.

I turned around, greeting him with a big smile.

"A guy came by looking for you..." Izou's calm but intrigued tone surprised me; there was a hint of uncertainty in his gaze.

"Who?" I asked, surprised.

"Tall, blonde... says you met yesterday at the bar..." he said thoughtfully. "I told him to wait on the deck until you got there."

"Alright, I'll change and go." I wasn't too convinced about seeing that guy again; there was something about him that didn't sit right with me. Plus, in my situation, I couldn't trust anyone, but maybe this was a good way to show Ace that I didn't care about what he had done and that I could move on.

---------------------------------------------------------

Ace was leaning against the ship's railing, staring out at the horizon with the sea breeze tousling his hair. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the previous night over and over again. He could still feel the warmth of your hips under his hands and the frustration of letting you go. But despite his words and actions, Ace wasn’t the type to push someone, especially not you, Marco's sister.

The sound of footsteps on the deck pulled him from his thoughts. In the distance, he saw Izou walking toward him with his usual carefree demeanor, but there was something in Izou's expression that caught Ace's attention. As Izou approached, he gestured toward the other end of the deck, where the bartender from the previous night was waiting, clearly uncomfortable under the curious stares of some of the crew.

"He says he's here to see Y/n. That they met last night," Izou explained, his tone laced with distrust.

Ace felt a knot form in his stomach. He didn’t like the sound of this. "I’ll handle it," Ace said, straightening up. As he walked toward the intruder, he sensed the familiar presence of Deuce following him. "Don’t do anything stupid, Ace."

The blonde looked up as they approached, his posture tense despite his attempt to appear relaxed. Ace noticed Deuce's eyes fixed on the man with his usual cold, analytical gaze.

"What are you doing here?" Ace asked, his voice sounding harsher than he intended.

The blonde smirked. "I just came to see if she wanted to hang out, since we got interrupted last night. Clearly, she wanted to keep talking to me."

Ace let out a dry laugh. "Oh, really? Funny, she didn’t mention anything about that."

The man looked confused for a moment, but then quickly regained his composure, trying to maintain his confidence. "Maybe she forgot to mention it. I left her a note saying I'd come to see her today."

Ace felt his patience slipping. He took a step forward, but before he could do anything, Deuce grabbed his arm. "You should leave. I don’t think she wants to see you," Deuce said, trying to defuse the situation.

At that precise moment, a voice interrupted the heated conversation from behind them. "Deuce?… Ace? What’s going on here?" Deuce and Ace froze at the sound of my voice.

"Nothing, this guy was just leaving," Deuce responded.

I stepped in front of them and walked toward the bartender. "I heard you were looking for me. We should go somewhere… quieter."

I walked across the deck toward the gangplank leading to the port, with the bartender following behind me.

"My name’s Pete, by the way," the guy said as soon as we stepped onto the port.

"I’m Y/n."

"Your friends are… charming," he said with irony.

"They’re just concerned… I think."

We walked through the port until we reached a small hill with a lookout point. Pete and I sat down, and for most the night, we talked about everything and nothing. The conversation flowed so naturally that it felt like I’d known him all my life. Of course, I had to invent my entire life story. There came a point in the night where I felt like I might be able to trust him, but something deep inside me told me not to. Besides, my thoughts kept returning to Ace.

Under the intense light of the crescent moon, Pete suddenly lunged at me, trying to kiss me. But almost instinctively, I dodged him. The truth was that even though I liked him, I couldn’t stop thinking about Ace.

Seeing my reaction, Pete leaned in close to my ear. "What’s wrong, don’t you want to?" he asked, grabbing my hands with one of his.

The sound of a chain made me go on high alert. I pulled away from Pete just enough to see that he was holding a huge chain in his other hand. The guy's face twisted into a malicious grin as he tightened his grip on my hands and tried to wrap the chain around them.

I quickly yanked my hands free with force, kicking him in the stomach, which made him release me so I could escape.

"I didn’t think it’d be this easy to catch you. You know... you should listen to your friends more often," he said as he pulled out a large whip.

I quickly turned around, ready to run, when the large rope coiled around my neck. Sea Stone. The damn chain was made of Sea Stone.

He yanked the chain back, causing me to fall to the ground, and then struck my back with the whip. It was hard to breathe, and the strong lash had left me trembling on the ground. "Who are you?" I managed to stammer.

"CP-0," he replied coldly.

Damn it, I couldn’t let them capture me, not now. I had to fight, do whatever it took; I’d rather die than go back to Mary Geoise.

I got up as quickly as I could, considering the Sea Stone chain was draining my energy. I ran towards the guy to make the chain less taut so I could remove it. He hadn’t expected this, and not understanding why I was running in his direction, he froze. I took advantage of this and reached for my neck, trying to untie the chain. In response, he lashed out at my hands again.

For long minutes, the guy swung his whip wherever my body moved, and I tried to dodge it—sometimes successfully, sometimes not. Seeing this, he threw the whip aside and proceeded to do the same with the chain. The guy's strength surprised me as I saw how he lifted the chain with moderate ease while trying to strike me with it. Since the chain was heavier and longer, each movement he made with it was slow but devastating if it hit me. Exhaustion was starting to take its toll on me; it was becoming harder and harder to dodge the blows, and the Sea-Prism Stone chain was still draining my energy. But desperation and the will to survive kept me moving.

As I dodged another attack, I saw an opportunity. The chain had hit the ground with such force that it created a small dent, but more importantly, it exposed an end of the chain that had not yet been lifted. If I could grab that end, maybe I could gain some advantage.

With a cry of effort, I lunged for the chain, grabbing the loose end tightly. Pete, surprised by my action, tried to regain control, but before he could, I wrapped the end of the chain around a nearby post. The weight of the chain did the rest, pulling Pete sharply to one side and throwing him off balance.

I took advantage of his confusion to run, though I could barely stay on my feet. The pain in my back and hands was unbearable, but I knew stopping wasn’t an option. I couldn’t let him catch me again.

"You can’t run, Y/n! CP-0 always gets what it wants!" Pete shouted, trying to free himself from the chain, but I was already focused on finding a way out.

I knew I couldn’t go back to the ship directly; Pete could catch up to me before I got there. Instead, I decided to run toward a group of nearby buildings, hoping to lose him in the narrow streets and alleys. My breathing was erratic, and every step felt like a challenge, but adrenaline and fear pushed me forward.

I entered one of the alleys and hid behind some barrels, trying to catch my breath and calm my furious heartbeat. I heard Pete's footsteps approaching, and I held my breath. I knew that if he found me now, it would be over.

"Do you really think you can hide from me?" His voice echoed through the streets, and the sound of the chain dragging on the ground sent a chill down my spine.

If I could distract him long enough, I might be able to get back to the ship and warn the others. I needed to make noise in one direction and then slip away in the other. I looked around and saw a pile of small stones near the barrels. It was a risky plan, but I had no other choice.

With as much stealth as I could muster, I grabbed a few stones and threw them toward the other end of the alley. The noise made Pete spin sharply toward the sound, giving me the chance to slip away in the opposite direction. I delivered a solid punch that knocked him to the ground.

I ran again, ignoring the pain in my body, and managed to reach another street before Pete could react. I felt a surge of relief, but I knew I wasn’t safe yet. I had to get back to the ship, I had to warn the others about CP-0.

The deck of the Moby Dick was silent. Most of the crew was asleep. I made it to the hallway, where I stumbled and fell to the ground, making a loud noise.

"Y/N?" Izou came out of his room. "What happened?"

Because of the commotion and our voices, a few other commanders came out of their rooms. Among them was Ace, who was furious at the scene.

"I knew it. It was that stupid bartender, wasn’t it?" he said, walking down the hallway toward the exit.

"Let's get her to the infirmary. Jozu, wake up Marco," Izou said quickly. "Ace… where are you going now?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I´m going to kill him."

Vista made a move, triying to stop him, while the others tell him to wait, to think clearly....but he kept going and disappeared into the dark.

"He's with CP-0; he came to capture me," I managed to say with my last breath.

"Let him go… maybe it's for the best. As soon as Ace returns, we leave; this will give us an advantage to disappear before they alert anyone else," I heard Izou say before I passed out.

I woke up with a start. Nightmares had haunted me all night. Pete… Saint Roswaald, and everything I had experienced until now, had played out step by step in my dreams. I woke up dazed in the infirmary bed, not really knowing where I was. I felt helpless and alone, very alone.

Staggering, I dragged myself to my room, hoping to find Marco there, but when I opened the door, the room was empty.

"He’s with Pops." A voice came from behind. Ace.

I turned around, and the look of terror and tears on my face made his expression change completely to tenderness.

"I… uh… I need to find him," I managed to stammer.

"I think you need to sleep."

Ace had traces of blood and scratches on his face. Then the image of Pete flashed back into my mind and I could feel my eyes starting to get wet.

"I don’t think that guy will bother you again, besides, we’re already at sea—it’ll be hard for them to find us." He was getting closer and closer to me.

My heart was racing more and more—Pete, CP-0… everything was spinning in my head, and a ringing began to fill my ears.

"Y/N?… Y/N!!!" Ace repeated as I fainted.

Flashes came to my mind as Ace was carrying me in his arms. When I opened them once more, I was in a bed, in a room I had never seen before, though it was very similar to mine, only with a huge bed. I sat up a bit, and I heard a small groan. Ace was sleeping soundly on one side of the bed, next to me, though leaving enough space so that our bodies would never have to touch. My stomach fluttered, full of butterflies and nervousness at Ace’s presence. Though I wasn’t sure how I had ended up there, I decided to close my eyes and rest.

----- TO BE CONTINUED-------------

Slow Burn!!!!!

NEXT CHAPTER

[ramblingoak]

The Repugnant

Chapter One: Little Starfish

Check out amazing art by @foxybouquet HERE / Chapter Two is HERE

Your father always warned you that you were too curious for your own good. After hearing rumors of the pirate ship The Repugnant in the area you snuck out of your father's villa to try and get a peek at the dreaded pirate and his crew of monsters. But what happens when Captain Mary Goore gets a peek of you first?

Mary Goore x Female Reader

Warnings: vampire!pirate!Mary Goore, vampire shenanigans, horror, violence, no one is dead but they're not exactly alive either...this will make sense later, some suggestive moments but nothing too spicy yet, Copia, Terzo and the ghouls will be showing up soon too, nsfw 18+ mdni, 1,800 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the banner and the collage and thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

“Don’t leave the house at night.”

That was the one rule your father had always insisted you abide by.  Of course there were plenty of others, especially as you had gotten older and more rebellious.  But staying inside of the safety of your family’s villa when night fell was always the most important rule and it was the one you had always obeyed.  ‘Strange creatures run amok in the night Miss’ was what your nanny would whisper to you while tucking you into bed each night, ‘Best to stay indoors and let the guards handle things’.

In retrospect you probably should have listened to her.

You tried to stick to the shadows around your home as much as possible while you crept along the perimeter.  The guards always stuck to the same routes and after years of watching them from your bedroom window you knew exactly when and where they’d be.  But tonight the moon was full and bright leaving very few places to hide.  You could not get caught, not when tonight was the best chance you had to see a man you had dreamed about since you were a child.

Pirates were common in the waters around the island you called home.  Occasionally they’d come into port and enjoy the various taverns close to the docks.  The island was a popular spot to restock ships for both merchants, soldiers and pirates alike.  For the most part everyone kept to themselves and rarely did any fights occur.  The silent agreement the groups had with each other made it easier for you to go into town and hear all sorts of stories of life on the sea.

One story in particular had always been your favorite though, a story of a man so dangerous that even the most skilled pirate crew hardly dared say their name.  For years you thought it to be a tall tale, a story that just became more and more fantastical as it was told.  The descriptions of the ship itself, The Repugnant, made it seem like some sort of vessel that came straight from hell.  Black wood, black sails and it was always surrounded by a deadly mist, it sailed the sea without rival.  But it was The Repugnant’s crew that people feared the most.

They weren’t men or women, but monsters.  Creatures that even the darkest imagination couldn’t conjure.  The rumor was that they were all cursed, that years ago they had crossed paths with a warlock and been doomed to roam the seas for an eternity, undead and wicked.  Everyone had different ideas as to what the crew had been turned into.  You’d heard everything from ghosts to zombies to sirens and then monsters you had never even heard of before.  The only one of the crew that everyone could agree on was the captain.

It was said that Captain Mary Goore was a vampire.

Even the word ‘vampire’ sent a shiver down your spine.  As a child it scared you to think of someone drinking your blood, of draining you dry and leaving you for dead.  However as you grew older it seemed to stir something else in you.  Your nanny was always one to stoke your imagination and had often snuck you books about creatures of the night.  You would pore over them while you were supposed to be asleep, reading over and over again about their lore.

When you’d finally fall asleep it was always to dream about a dark clad figure meeting you in the dark.  Their cold hands caressing you in ways no one else had before.  Dark promises whispered into your skin that would stoke all sorts of desires within you.  More than once you had woken up from such a dream with a gasp on your lips and sweat cooling on your skin.  And more and more it wasn’t just a gasp on your lips but a name…

All of this led you to where you were now, rushing through the woods that separated your home from the town near the sea.  You had put on your plainest dress to hopefully blend in a little more.  All you wanted was a peek, just one glance of the man that had been in your dreams for years now.  You wanted to see the shock of dark hair on his head, you wanted to see the bright red of his eyes…you wanted to see Captain Goore in the flesh.

As soon as you had overheard the guards talk about a sighting of The Repugnant it had been all you had thought about.  Each night since you had stayed up for hours watching the water for any sign of the ship.  It was tonight, after most everyone in the house had gone to bed, that you had seen the mist in the distance.  Watched as it grew thicker and closer.  When the moon had broken away from the clouds briefly there was no mistaking what was sailing towards the docks.

Your feet stumbled as you hit the cobblestones that led into town.  The mist had drifted along the paths from the water and for the first time you felt a little thrill of fear go through you.  It was getting harder and harder to see where you were going.  Despite growing up here and knowing the town like the back of your hand the mist was confusing you.  At first you thought you were hearing other townsfolk talking as they wandered around you but the whispers were becoming darker and rougher.

They were becoming far less human sounding.

You ducked into the alley by the Moon Bay Tavern, leaning against the wall to try and collect yourself.  The realization of the situation you were in was starting to dawn on you.  All you could see in your mind was your father’s face as he called you a ‘foolish girl’.  He had been lamenting more and more that your head was too far into the clouds and you would soon need to come back down to earth.  You had ignored him like usual but over the last month even your nanny was saying the same sort of thing.

Your clothes were becoming finer, your posture was being corrected and even your hobbies were being commented on.  It was like they were trying to mold you into a completely different person.  Someone that you had no desire to be.  The same night you had overheard the guards mention The Repugnant being seen was also the same night your father had stated he would need to find you a husband soon.  The idea of being handed off to someone like you were a piece of furniture was revolting and you wanted no part of it.

So it was with all those thoughts swirling in your head that you had begun to cling to the idea of Mary more and more.  It was just a fantasy and now that you were down here surrounded by who knows what, the stupidity of your plan was apparent.  You pushed away from the wall with a groan and turned back towards the way you came.

A foolish girl indeed.

“Hey little starfish, what are you doing out so late?”

It seemed like your blood had instantly turned to ice water from the voice drifting up from behind you.  The sounds of boots on the cobblestones grew closer, far too close but you couldn’t seem to convince your limbs to move.  You were frozen in place because deep down you knew who the voice belonged to.  Gathering all the courage you could muster you turned and found yourself face to face with the man you had dreamed of meeting but now dreaded to see.

They were dressed mostly in black save for a red sash around their waist that had various weapons hanging from it.  A large three point hat was perched on their head and it cast a shadow over their face.  It did nothing to obscure those eyes though, two piercing red eyes stared right at you like they could see straight into your soul.  Above you the moon finally was able to peek through the clouds and a blue swath of light hit the man, no the vampire, in front of you.

They were far more handsome than you had ever dreamed of.

“Cat got your tongue?”  They grinned at you widely, showing off their fangs.  “Come on now, you gotta say something.”

“I’m uh…I’m…”  You shook your head, taking a deep breath and trying to calm your breathing.  “I’m just leaving.  From work.”

“Oh yeah?”  Mary took a few steps closer, their eyes roaming up and down your body.  “And where is that?”

“Um, the t-tavern.”  You pointed a finger to the building, wincing at how badly your hand was shaking.  “But my shift is over so I’ll be heading home now.”

You had barely managed to turn away before Mary’s hand was on your arm.  The coldness of their skin quickly seeped through the fabric of your dress and you gasped, trying to tug your arm away without success.

“Now, now.  What’s the rush?”  Mary tugged you to the side and started backing you up against the wall, barely leaving any room between you.  “You know starfish, it’s kinda funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“I’ve been in there for a bit, looking for something good to eat.  But I didn’t see you at all.  Wonder why that is?”

“I work in the kitchen.”

“The kitchen?  A pretty thing like you?”  Mary clicked their tongue while shaking their head.  “No, no you’d definitely be out in the tavern serving drinks.”

“Well you’re wrong.”  You took a quick breath and held your head up high, finding the tiniest bit of courage to meet those red eyes.  “Now let me go.”

Mary’s eyes seemed to darken a bit and you had to look away.  Slowly you could feel them leaning in closer and closer until their nose touched your jawline.  You couldn’t hold in your gasp when they ran it along your skin, inhaling deeply as they did so.  When they were done they stayed close, moving their lips to rest against your ear.

“Doesn’t smell like you work in the kitchen.  In fact it smells like you don’t belong here at all.”  He laughed when you tried to pull away, not letting you move even an inch.  “To me it smells like you belong on that hill above town.  In a house your daddy built.”

“Let me go!”

Mary growled when you tried to pull away again and the sound seemed to reverberate through your body.  With a snarl they shoved you roughly back against the wall, your head hitting the stone painfully.  

“Sorry little starfish, I won’t be letting you go.  Remember when I said I was looking for something good to eat?”  Mary reached up to grab their hat, tossing it down on the ground.  Their black hair fell across their face and they quickly brushed it away all while smiling down at you. Your eyes fell to those fangs and you were unable to look away.  “I think I found it.”

Read Chapter Two: Setting Sail

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[beanghostprincess]

Usopp and Nami being synced up. Nami is more irritated and quick(er) to anger. while usopp is more emotional and low mood his negative personality really shines through during his time of the month.

Nami would usually spend time with Robin she's the only one on the ship she can tolerate at that time. She would steal one of the guys shirts to wear she's not in the mood to put an outfit together or wear something revealing. She took Franky's old Hawaiian shirt. it has drinks and cocktails all over it everyone calls it the bloody Mary shirt because when she wears it, everyone knows she's on her period and she shouldn't be messed with.

Usopp is in bed mostly when his monthly nightmare starts. He's fatigued, bloated and doesn't feel like doing anything unless he has to. wearing an oversized shirt that Used to belong to jinbe but out of kindness it's now his (usopp accidentally bleached it during wash day and he let him keep it) He usually self isolates staying in the cabin. If he's not up by 11am they know why. He usually ignores everyone except for sanji, she (t4t of course) climbs in bed with him and holds him. Lightly rubbing circles on his abdomen humming softly. She puts on a kettle of hot tea and refills it regularly for them. She also yells at Brooke if he tries to take some. She didn't make it for him! She made it for her darling Nami and precious usopp!

They both prefer to eat by themselves Nami in her office and Usopp in his work shop. When they are together it's in the garden (sanji makes him go outside for some sunlight and fresh air can't stay in bed all day) and they usually don't talk to each other they just sit together stuffing in solidarity. You'd think they share products but they don't Nami wears cups it's the most convenient while usopp sticks to pads only. Nami tried to convince him to use tampons at least but he just doesn't like them. When they have to fight they're always checking each other for leaks and will give each other pain killers if they run out. Nami is very open about her period she never had a problem discussing and all the guys on the boat are comfortable with the topic. ( "Ain't no shame when it comes to mother nature"-Franky) usopp on the other hand with a mixture of dysphoria and his fist experience being bad he doesn't bring it up. He refuses to talk about it, mentions it, or acknowledges it when it's happening. He doesn't call it a disease anymore like he used to when he was little (you will still die in 7 days if it is brought up tho that still stands ) but a stomach ache.

Robin and Zoro are synced up but they're just fine. You wouldn't even know they were on their period unless you ask. While Nami and Usopp go through hell zoro and Robin are just chilling. fuck them honestly

This is extremely real and I relate to this on a personal level because I'm the worst when I go through my period. It's a mix of being extremely irritated, sad, or horny, and these two idiots are a menace when they're on that time of the month. I love the whole thing about Sanji staying with Usopp and holding him,, It's just so soft. Sanji would be the most caring lover,, This reminds me I have to finish that fic about Usopp on his period I fucking hate having to work-

And Nami is pretty much like me when I'm on my period except that my cramps are probably a lot worse, but I absolutely love her rage being multiplied because it makes so much sense. And her wearing cups is just so in character and accurate-

Btw I agree the whole crew is extremely open-minded about these things and they don't give a single fuck about them talking about this freely. It's my fav thing ever because that's just how it should always be. Everywhere. And I'm sure they'd all support each other a lot <3

The thing I don't agree on, though, is Robin. Because I'm 100% sure Zoro doesn't even know when he's on his period but I headcanon Robin as somebody with the worst period cramps ever but trying to go through it silently to not worry anybody. It'll pass eventually. But Franky is just the most caring boyfriend when it comes to this and she lets herself be more vulnerable around him. I guess I just find it sweet that she needs a bit of comfort too <3