#richard macon x oc

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

ABBOTTS' ANGELS MASTERLIST

listed chronologically - to be updated as I write more!

'The Seraphim' - Crew Introduction

AO3

-> friends - the crew enjoy a night out after a long day of training.

-> red. - kit and bucky spend their first night together, but it becomes clear they're not quite after the same thing.

-> waiting - as sylvie laments her lack of young love, her sorrows are dashed when she meets ken lemmons.

-> kinship - bucky finds his expectations dashed in the aftermath of his night with kit.

-> charm - douglass attempts to help maisie come out of her shell.

-> cowboy like me - dawn and hambone's friendship is brought into question when he scores a date with someone else

-> tape - when faced with a dire situation, thea is forced to accept that she can't fix things as easily as she used to.

-> a doorbell sounding in the middle of the night - when bucky shows up drunk outside kit's hut, she is forced to confront the reality of both the war and her feelings for him .

-> injured - after kit is wounded on a mission, she begins to question bucky's attachment to her, and wonders why it is so hard for her to understand his affection.

-> the end is near - dawn awakens in the aftermath of the plane crash to find everything has changed

-> raw - marty faces the harsh reality of what it may take to survive stalag luft iii.

-> sick to my skin - kit and bucky are reunited in stalag luft, but nothing will ever be the same as it was .

-> a perfect shame - kit contemplates her sanity.

-> undress - macon is surprised to learn that his fellow prisoner yara katz is more than the sullen facade she appears to be.

-> uncharted - yara struggles to consider the possibilities for her future when faced with a proposition from macon.

[juniperss]

Violet ‘Vi’ Foster x Richard Macon

“When I'm all alone

And I close my eyes

That's when I'll see your face again

And when you're gone

You know that I'll be waiting when you're gone.”

What happens when a plane mechanic from New York working at Thorpe Abbot falls in love with a Lieutenant from the Tuskegee Airmen? Well, we’ll have to see I suppose…..

[rosies-riveters]

Ema help I was listening to ‘when you’re home’ from the in the heights movie and now I have MADDDDDD OC (mainly Violet) x Richard Macon feelings😭🤧 - @juniperss

🙈🙈🙈 is it terrible that I STILL haven’t seen that movie? When I should, because I love everything Lin-Manuel Miranda puts out.

I don’t think I’ve read anything with Richard in it yet; he & Violet seem like such a cute pair! The song sounds very appropriate to them 😊

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

FOOD FOR THE WORMS ; A MASTERS OF THE AIR COLLECTION

A series of one-shots following the women of The Seraphim, the first all-female flight crew to grace Thorpe Abbotts. Through love, heartbreak, and unimaginable hardship, the bond forged between crewmates is the only thing holding them together when war threatens to tear everything apart.

ABBOTTS' ANGELS ARE NOW ON AO3!

This series is organised chronologically, and will be updated regularly whenever new pieces are published to Tumblr

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

UNDRESS FOR YARA PLEEEAAAASE

POETTTT YOU KNOW I GOTTA REPRESENT OUR GIRL!!!! here's some yara x macon POW camp goodness to keep us going <3 ONE WORD PROMPTS warnings: injury description

-> undress

The mattress beneath his back felt as hard as a board as Macon lay still, staring up at the bottom of the bunk above. Those wooden slats that slotted across the bedframe had been his constant companion in the four days since he'd arrived here at the Stalag, the pain in his neck sending a bolt of fear through him whenever he turned his head too far in either direction. Sure, the doctors had looked him over, - given him what help they were willing to offer - but Richard didn't know enough about the nature of a broken neck to risk anything that could cause further damage. And so, he'd scarcely gotten up from this bed since the moment he'd lay down, frightened to move until he was sure something was healing.

During the day, the men and women that crowded this room departed, taking advantage of the Stalag's poor excuse for summer and wandering loop after loop around the barren camp, simply glad to breathe air that wasn't contaminated with the smell of so many bodies crammed into narrow bunks. Every few hours, Daniels or Jefferson would poke their head around the door - make sure he was alright, bring him some terrible, tasteless food, or crack a joke to keep his spirits up. Macon was used to the rest of their fellow inhabitants remaining entirely absent in the daylight hours, so it caught him by surprise when two of the women wandered in, taking a seat at the small table in the middle of the room.

Marty Jarlsson. He remembered her - he wasn't sure he'd ever seen a woman quite like her, so tall and so broad. And then, trailing closely behind, came Yara Katz. On her, he had nothing. There was something strikingly elusive about the woman, a silent, looming presence as she hovered in the corner every evening. He'd seen her speak to the other women, but they stood close and talked in hushed tones - he didn't even know what her voice sounded like.

Without turning his head, he could watch the pair through the corner of his eye, stretching his vision as far to the side as it could go. Yara shrugged off her jacket, a frayed tear visible across the back of the sweater she wore underneath. Reaching up over her head, she pulled off the sweater next, sitting now in nothing but a bra and the layers of bandages that had been unprofessionally wrapped around her shoulder. Macon felt heat suddenly rush to his face, blinking rapidly for a moment as if it would purge the image from his mind, and announcing to the silence "I can leave if you want."

Yara scoffed slightly. "Seriously? No - I'm not letting you screw up your neck for the rest of your life for the sake of my modesty."

They were the first words she'd ever spoken to him - hell, the first words he'd ever heard from her period. Her voice was deeper than he'd imagined - smooth and self-assured, easy to listen to. He caught himself wishing she wouldn't stop.

"Yes, ma'am," Richard uttered, fixing his gaze back on the top bunk as a means of respect. A moment of silence passed, but then she suddenly let out a sharp hiss of pain, and before he could remember what he was looking away from his gaze had snapped towards her, staring as Marty peeled away the last layer of bandage.

Across her right shoulder blade ran two gashes - jagged, red tears through smooth, olive skin. Yara had her dog tag between her teeth, biting down on the metal, eyes screwed shut in pain as Jarlsson began to quietly clean the wounds. Hanging from the same loop as her tag, dangling against her chin, was a Star of David, clearly handmade from a twisted scrap of wire. Macon sucked in a breath. Suddenly her silence made sense.

Marty dabbed with gentle diligence at the cuts, Yara's expression contorting in silent agony every time her crewmate made contact with the sensitive flesh. The room was small, and although she wasn't quite close enough for him to see properly, she remained within arm's reach. Without thinking, he reached out the next time she winced, palm pressed flat against her knee. For a moment, Richard felt her tense, and he considered pulling away, but when Jarlsson began to apply new bandages, wrapping dry linen tight against tender skin, Yara took his hand, squeezing as she sucked in a long, shaking breath.

"Ok, you're good" Marty affirmed, skimming a kind hand against the bare skin of Yara's lower back. She sniffed sharply, nodding as the Norwegian rose to stand and packed away what little medical supplies they had been afforded by the camp's doctor.

"Alright. I'll be out in a sec," Yara spoke, lifting herself out of the chair as she seized her sweater, staring at the tear for a moment before pulling it back over her head, tugging it down until the bandages were once more hidden from sight. Macon had returned his gaze to the bunk above, dutifully pretending not to hear or see anything as Marty left the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall outside until everything fell quiet once more.

"... Your neck's broken, right? That's why you don't move it?" There came that voice again, smooth like honey with the slightest hint of a lisp, so barely perceptible that he wouldn't have noticed it at all had he not been concentrating so hard. The vague imperfection made the prospect of talking back seem suddenly easier.

"That's right. First couple days I couldn't move it at all without passin' out," Richard replied. The scraping of a chair against the floor sounded, and suddenly he could see her, droplets of sweat formed on her forehead as she positioned her seat right beside the edge of the bed, firmly in his line of sight. Yara sat down with a sigh, hands clasped together in her lap.

"... What happened to your shoulder?" He asked slowly, cautiously, as if treading shallow water in search of a drop-off. She poked a finger beneath the neckline of her sweater, rubbing along the edge of the bandage.

"Guard dog slipped the leash about a week ago, before you arrived. Lucky it wasn't worse - you should've seen how the others went at it," Yara chuckled slightly. "Kit and Gale had it by the neck." The mental image almost made him laugh - the even-tempered Cleven and scrawny Lieutenant McKenzie taking it upon themselves.

He liked her smile. Until today he'd never seen her wear anything but a scowl, but even the smallest of smiles seemed to change her entire face, the hardness in her eyes dissipating. Richard couldn't quite fathom how he'd never noticed her before, with all those hours he'd spent in this room with her already. She spent every night in the bunk opposite his, lying on her side to face the wall as if she could somehow forget where she was if she didn't look around. If only he could've met her in better circumstances.

"... You got a cigarette?" He asked after a moment of prolonged silence.

Yara reached for her coat, scrounging around in the pockets. Pausing, she let out a huff of amusement. "Last one," She declared, retrieving a single, slightly bent cigarette.

"Oh, well, I couldn't-"

"Nah, I don't mind," She shrugged, stealing a match from the box hidden beneath the floorboards below DeMarco's bed. They pilfered from one another with such ease here that it would have been impossible for everyone not to have known. Yara struck the match, holding the flame to the end of the cigarette. As smoke began to waft from its end, she reached out, her palm brushing against his chin as she held it to his lips. Macon inhaled, sucking in the smoke as he lifted his own hand to take it from her, their fingertips brushing against each other's in a movement so minuscule and yet big enough to send that heat rising to his face once more.

Yara smirked slightly. He realised he hadn't pulled his gaze away from her face since the moment she'd produced that cigarette, a tiny act of selflessness that was like a holy miracle in a place like this. With a faint sigh, she stood up from her seat, placing the battered metal dish they used as an ashtray on the chair beside him. "I'll... see you later," She stated.

"You gotta go?"

"Yeah."

He could tell she wasn't going to offer any further explanation. "Alright. See you later."

She seized her coat, pulling it on over her shoulders. Even in August, it was cold here - he shuddered to think of the conditions the others had suffered in the months before his arrival. She could cross a room without ever making a sound - no rustle of fabric or creak of a footstep - as if she'd never entered at all. Even before she'd left, Macon missed her presence, feeling her absence the moment she turned away from him.

"Thank you," Yara paused in the doorway, speaking one last time.

His brow furrowed slightly. "For what?"

She shrugged. "Holding my hand."

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Yara Katz and Richard Macon

All the fear and the fire / Of the end of the world / Happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl / Happens great, happens sweet / Happily, I'm unfazed here, too

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

please enjoy some Yara x Macon in these trying times <3 set during the march in part 9 because i love making people suffer tagging: @latibvles @karasnonsense99

-> uncharted

How long had they been marching? Days? Weeks? In the late winter darkness, it became harder to tell what was day and what was night, harder to draw the line between one day and the next. They existed in some state outside of time, some seam in reality where it didn't matter, where the only thing that did was the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other. Yara's feet had been begging for release for hours, rubbed raw beneath hard leather, every step its own private agony.

Settling in the brick factory for the night had seemed a godsend, huddled together on the floor, the warmth of the furnaces practically a luxury. Stepping inside, the men had made a rush for the glowing embers, gloved hands held out as they jostled for position. She had elbowed her way through, facing less pushback than the other men around her - even after all these months, there were still concessions to be made, liberties she could take knowing that the mere fact of her gender would help her get away with it. These men knew the Seraphim girls were tough as nails - they'd seen it themselves. But no one wanted to be the guy who told the women they couldn't shoulder in next to the furnace.

And yet the exhaustion of the march had taken so much out of their wretched group that the struggle for warmth had only seemed to last minutes before everyone found their places on the floor, unable to sustain any sort of labour even if it promised precious warmth. Yara propped herself up against one of the shelving units, the corner of the wood digging against her spine, but not quite uncomfortable enough to warrant the exertion of moving even a few inches. She wanted to kick off her boots, but she wasn't confident that they'd still be waiting for her in the morning if she did. Everything was so sacred out here that nothing was - nothing could be put down if one didn't want to see it stolen, tucked away into another prisoner's pocket before one could even blink.

Maisie had tucked in beside her, their bodies pressed tightly against each other to keep warm. "Y'know, next week it will've been exactly one year since we went down," She whispered.

Yara blinked. It had been a while since she'd had any sense at all of what date it was. She hadn't realised it had been that long. "... Really?"

"Mhm."

"You been keeping count?"

"Yeah."

"... Huh."

There was so much unspoken between them, so much implied by that simple fact. It wasn't the Seraphim crash that mattered, not really.

One year since they'd last seen Sylvie. Angel. Sadie.

One year since Thea had died.

She pondered this for a long moment, but when she turned to speak to Maisie once more, the radio operator was already long gone, fast asleep against Yara's shoulder, snoring softly into the fabric of her coat collar. Letting out a huff, she folded her arms tightly across her chest, waiting for sleep to come for her too. Then growing steadily irritated when it didn't.

The sudden nudge of a steel-toed boot against her leg made her flinch, shoulders tensing as her gaze darted upwards. Macon sat opposite her, sandwiched between Daniels and Jefferson's sleeping figures, unable to move anything but his legs for fear of waking them, the pair leaning against both arms. "Shit. Sorry," He whispered, her chest slowing its rapid rise and fall as she recognised him in the darkness. "I didn't mean to scare you."

She'd almost denied it. But he had scared her, the feel of his boot against her too similar to that of the guards, impossible to tell the difference in the dark - at least not fast enough to stall the panic in her chest.

"Can't sleep?" She asked, freezing for a second as Maisie squirmed slightly, lowering her voice to avoid her stirring. Richard shook his head slightly, taking a deep breath.

"First couple months we were here, me and the fellas kept talkin' about how we were gonna escape. S'all we talked about for weeks."

"Well, when you manage it, send a postcard," Yara smirked picking at the fraying wool in her glove. He cracked a grin, a flash of teeth through parted lips.

"You never thought about it?" Macon asked. It happened to everyone sooner or later - everyone convinced themselves they could be the one, the person to break out and make it home free. Sometimes it wore off, sometimes it didn't - She watched Kit and Bucky all the time, huddled together in secret conversation, and she knew exactly what they were planning. Yara had given up so quickly that she wasn't sure she'd ever truly believed it in the first place. She didn't need to run for the guards to find an excuse to kill her.

"Nah. I'm waiting it out and goin' home to my sisters."

He was smiling again. "You didn't tell me you had sisters."

"Twins. Maya and Leda - they'll be nearly nineteen now."

Nodding along, Richard shrugged. "Well. When I get back, I'm gonna go to-"

"To your twenty-three acres of loblolly pine, yeah, I know," Yara grinned.

"Point seven."

"Huh?"

"Twenty-three point seven acres," He pointed out. She laughed then, raising a hand over her mouth as she suddenly became conscious of the noise, careful not to wake anyone around them.

A true smile was a rare sight around here.

Hers made him dizzy.

"You should come," Richard nodded.

Her brow raised slightly. "Me?"

"Yeah, you," The corner of his mouth rose in a smile, another flash of teeth. "You think these other assholes are invited? Build you a house - hell, I'll build you a dozen, we got room."

"Shut up," Yara chuckled, shaking her head. "You're sleep-deprived."

He shrugged, as if daring her to argue. "Feel pretty awake."

Her shoulders tensed. She didn't want to think about it - what it could mean if he wasn't kidding, what life could promise beyond the four walls of this frozen factory. She didn't want to think about it, because letting herself think about it meant giving space to hope, letting it permeate the walls she put up around herself. Yara Katz had decided to stop caring about anything but cold, hard survival a long time ago. She cared about enough people here already - too many - she didn't have space to care much for herself as well.

And what would it mean if she let herself admit that perhaps, just maybe, she was glad to have met Richard Macon, the man sitting across from her, staring at her like she was the sun? Did it mean she was glad to be here? Did it mean she was glad for the crash? For everything they'd gone through? For Thea's death? How could she appreciate the one good thing that had come out of all this without disregarding all of the bad?

Yara sucked in a deep breath, rubbing uncomfortably at her wrist as Maisie moved against her again.

"... Ask me again when we're free."

Macon nodded, slow and understanding, pressing his lips into a thin line. "Ok."

Her eyes narrowed, staring at him for a moment. "And stop smirking."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are."

He looked down at his lap, letting out a huff of amusement. "Damn, Katz. You know I'll wait for you."

She shrugged, folding her arms across her chest as she slumped slightly against the shelves, readjusting her body to a more comfortable position. "Yeah, I figured."