From left to right, seven of the most important members of The Jagged Ruby: Andreya, Elizabeth, J.C. Sanlaurento (with Marcius the cat, both courtesy of @sunrisenfool), Saoirse, the current Pirate Queen Meredith, Theodore, and Tariq.
Though The Jagged Ruby has over 75 crew members total, these seven are the ones mentioned most in fics and talked about the most when referencing Meredith’s crew in general.
I was so so happy to get to work with my dear @miel-1411 again, this time on Meredith’s crew!!! Every step was such a joy and I am completely in love with how they all came out, they all look so beautiful! 💖 Thank you so much!!! 🥰🥰🥰
(I included the close ups of the couples because they are all making me so soft, plus an extra close up of Tariq under the cut because Tumblr wouldn’t let me arrange the images how I wanted to)
3k words. All of Julianus’ life has been about fulfilling social expectations. Not any more.
Note: This fic contains some time changes. They’re all separated but they’re not linear. This pieces art is the cover of the centennial edition of James Joyce’s ‘Portrait of the Artist As A Young Man’.
CW: Superficial discussions of unhealthy family dynamics.
The song for this piece is Expectations by Belle & Sebastian. Saoirse, Meredith and the Crew of The Jagged Ruby belongs to @apprenticealec.
Part 4 of Secrets Of An Ancient Moon series; you can read the rest of it here.
Dusk fell in the sky making the colours of the water change. Meredith whistled at Jules to get their attention, calling them aside. When they reached port again in four days, they’d reach Jules’ original destination, marking the end of their voyages in The Jagged Ruby. Julianus didn’t need Meredith to tell them this, they already knew: they had been counting the days obsessively, watching them slip by as they found a chance to speak to the Captain.
Meredith had found them first. It was now or never.
“Hopefully this,” Meredith said, raising the legal study Julianus had made for her a couple of months ago, “will help us with our Syd problem. I’m not going to pat you in the back, Sanlaurento, so just let me say this: you’ve got it in you, you’re a pain in my ass, I hope whoever opposes you in a court shit themselves. Now, leave.”
When Meredith looked back up, Jules was still there, looking at them with a frown and an intensity which the Captain had seen in them before, but never directed at them. Jules had been travelling with them for months. When they had manifested on the ship to become Meredith’s personal pest and unlikely legal advisor, the Quinquennial meeting was in the long term future still, they had time for it. Now, the meeting would happen in three months.
In all that time, Meredith had had time to watch them, even if they didn’t want to. She hated to admit it, but the asshole had guts. J.C. was clever, a fast learner, and seemed to know themselves well enough to anticipate their shortcomings. Analytical and strong-willed, in other circumstances they’d make an excellent addition to the crew.
They learnt the basics of sailing faster than Meredith had given them credit for, their basic knowledge of sword-fighting was getting honed by the week. They had never taken a shot against an actual person, but their aim had gotten notoriously better. Julianus got treats for the crew if you left them unsupervised, and somehow, always, found someone to help with legal advice, no matter were they were.
So yes, Meredith had seen that intensity before. She’d seen it when they put themselves between a vendor and a guard, suddenly carrying more presence and even a slight high-society touch to the way they conducted themselves. She’d seen it whenever they tried, again and again, to perfect something, never expecting to be handed anything. She’d seen it whenever they talked about Injustice, or the Sea Palace, or Freedom, or People.
It all shone through, even through the many flaws or annoyances Meredith saw in their character — anxious, irritable, high-horsed, mysterious for no damn reason.
“I said leave, why are you still here.”
“Meredith?”
The Captain raised an eyebrow. Sanlaurento never addressed her without an honorary.
“I didn’t remember us being friends— You smooch my quartermaster and…” Meredith stopped, a grimace overtaking her face. “This is about them, isn’t it. No, I’m not having a heart to heart about fucking Saoirse with you. Sanlaurento, I’m still your fucking Captain.”
“No, it’s not about Saoirse. It’s about me.”
“Right, because that’d make me care.”
J.C. frowned back at Meredith, trying to resist the urge to roll his eyes but failing to do so. “Even if they are a factor in my considerations. I’m well aware that if I talked to them, I could manage to see them anywhere and write to them even, given they write to Jacqui all the time.”
“If you’re going to talk anyway, at least do me the favour of going to the point, Sanlaurento.”
The sky was clear in the island of Sirenia, a cool late winter evening as Sanlaurento walked around a patio in a black, formal attire, with a green jacket with golden buttons.
“You’ll do great, stop worrying. You already did great in your dissertation.”
“But my dissertation was just me talking about International affairs.”
“One last viva, and you’ll be a lawyer.”
Julianus exhaled. “You’re right, one last viva. This ends today.”
“Did someone Come with you?”
“No.”
Their friend snorted. “You didn’t tell anyone about today, didn’t you?”
Feigning disinterest so the conversation could end, they looked over some handwritten diagrams.
“Do I have to apply to the Sea Palace? I know I said I wanted to, but I don’t know any more.”
“Of course, Cleo,” their mother said, “it’s the best academic institution around, you might have a chance. You lose nothing by trying”
“They were weird though, you know? Off. Like, they give me a bad feeling.”
Their mother no longer sounded patient when she spoke: “You’re going to have to let go of turning down opportunities at every chance you don’t like everyone in front of you, or everyone in front of you doesn’t automatically think you’re brilliant. Besides, you insisted, and this is a matter about your education, your safety and your future. You’re applying.”
Julianus tensed, curling their toes inside their shoes, trying to ball them like they would their hands. They couldn’t ball them into fists right now, that’d give them away. If they gave themselves away, their mother’s reaction would be worse. “It’s not— that’s not—”
In their 27 years, Julianus had been called a lot of things.
Weird by their classmates, dense by their parents. Unnecessarily complicated, dramatic, attention seeking, stupid. All of them also by their parents who said things in annoyance and in anger without measuring any reaction, nor waiting for any explanation. Stupid, perhaps, was the funniest.
They never called them Julianus, only ‘Cleo’, too, to the point their mother often said they made a mistake in choosing their first name.
Their Cleo was a lot of things but never what they themself said they were. ‘Intelligence’ was arrogance, ‘mistakes’ stupidity, or worse, something unforgivable; a lack of consideration for everyone around them and the marking of their mother in their failure to raise a child who wanted to do anything with her.
Too loud, too quiet, too stiff, too needy, too this, too that, too weird, too feminine, too masculine, too much.
Academic settings were different. One of the few places they had some control over themself. Yes, their classmates might’ve thought them closed off, weird and even a bit of a “lunatic” when they were growing up, but their classmates also knew they were passionate about defending what they loved, including their friends. A willing ear to listen, offering food, advice and comfort to whomever asked, without thinking too much about it. Quick to rile up but never one to deny help. Their teachers and professors always knew they tried, that they wanted to learn, that they wanted to go to further, deeper horizons.
Their own self, learning and what they could do with that education was their constant ongoing project. Their poems and stories, a constant conversation with the world. Not self-centredness, not absent-mindedness.
Only twice they had been told in academic settings that they weren’t enough. One was in the Sea Palace. The scholars called them an histrionic, low-pedigree charming but insubstantial kid, with poorly honed magic and more enthusiasm than capacity. Others worked better, others could sit still for longer, others had more steady grades — not the valleys of those subjects which did not interest them, with good but unremarkable grading, versus the stellar records of those subjects which obsessed them needlessly. A nice attempt, but a definitive rejection.
The other was in that last Viva Voce in Firent. It hadn’t gone terribly, they had passed, but with meagre first level honours in comparison to their full honours approved dissertation. They were expecting to do worse, that was true. They weren’t expecting to have three examiners who did not let them finish a single explanation, one even laughing at their face for asking for a question to be clarified.
“If you keep this way, I doubt you will have it in you to be a good jurisconsult,” one of them had said.
Julianus had looked at them with icy, saccharine sweetness, eyes like daggers and making apologies they didn’t mean as they took their diploma. They left the room thinking what did they know? What did any of these people know about Julianus Cleopatra, who wasn’t born with the Surname Sanlaurento, but had chosen it anyway? Nothing. They knew nothing.
Julianus had never been in many places they belonged.
The night was clear as The Ruby made its way through the waters in the night.
“What about you?”
“Yeah, Jay, tell us a story. All you do is work, kid. Grab a glass! Cut yourself some slack from those books, lest your vision becomes worse.”
Julianus couldn’t see why not. With a bright smile on their face, they grabbed a glass of beer, before joining the Crew that was lounging around on the deck, enjoying the night.
“Does it have to be something I’ve heard, or does it have to be an original?”
“Right! Saoirse did say you wrote.”
Julianus blinked. “Saoirse mentioned me?”
An echo of warm laughter rang between the crew. Someone patted their back. “You’ve got it bad for the Quartermaster, don’t you? But tell us your story.”
"My story?” They snorted. “Oh, you don’t want to listen to that.”
After taking a drink, they let their own play on words slide, and chose a story to tell. “You know how they say that those who are the most impertinent have the best chance. Well, this cabin boy risked it all for a venture in a ship from the northern seas, whose flag it was under was at war with an Empire. The cabin boy, well, we’ll call them boy, had been searching for a place to fulfil their ambitions, and saw in this ship the right chance. The kind of person who wished to be remarkable, and do what’s right
“So one day, the ship runs into an enemy ship. Goes the Captain and says: ‘If we fight them, this ship might be sunk and we might not live the night’. So goes the cabin boy, who had developed a fondness for this ship; the fondness one does when one loves a place, but the place does not love one back, and yet one clings to the nostalgia of the good things. The cabin boy did not realise this yet, so the cabin boy goes and says: ‘If I time it right, I could sink it.’
“Though often trifled with silencing commands, the cabin boy was intelligent and daring so the cabin boy repeated: ‘If I time it right I could sink it. Was this not why I trained all these years as a cabin boy?’
“The Captain said: ‘No, you are just a cabin boy’, but at the insistence of our protagonist, the Captain said: ‘If you destroy that ship, I will give you silver and likewise gold, here in this very sea, and I will give you my only daughter for you to marry, if you make a renowned Captain out of me—’”
The story was not a happy one. It was a story of betrayal and disappointed hopes. It finished with the cabin boy, who making himself one with the night, went to sink the enemy ship, under the very noses of the unsuspecting crew. Yet, when the cabin boy came back and demanded their acknowledgement, the Captain denied them. Though the cabin boy had no interest in claiming the bounty, the Captain had not expected them to live, but fearing the Cabin Boy would take the credit and disrupt the order of things, the Captain slew them, and the sea took them in.
Someone gasped with indignation. “And no one aided the cabin boy?”
“No.”
“Did the Captain kill them then?”
“That’s for you to decide.”
“So the cabin boy didn’t die? Or did they?”
“In a way. It’s less about physical death, though it can be about it.”
“Isn’t this the Raleigh story?”
“Of the Golden Vanity?” Said Sanlaurento with a smirk. “Perhaps, but everyone tells it differently.
“If you don’t make it as a law person, I say you become a writer.”
The last time Julianus Sanlaurento had seen their parents was when they sailed off to an apprenticeship. There had been no grand goodbyes, no heartfelt words. They had all fought around a week before, and J.C. was not yet forgiven. It was, perhaps, one of the biggest fights they had had with them, and the memory of it, along with the cold shoulder they were given would cling to them for some more time.
Nothing was worse than the hypocrisy, though. Or the pity. Too much to everyone around them, a brilliant child when they weren’t in the room.
Before they left, their father had pulled them aside to tell them they were brilliant, and that they were proud. Jules had wanted to say thank you, and just thank you, from the bottom of his heart, but they couldn’t, not after last week. Instead, they said:
“You always say that, until I’m brilliant in a way which neither of you like even if you still let me do it. You’ll hate this, but I don’t exist comfortably anywhere, and perhaps, I’ll never exist comfortably here.”
“That’s not our fault, Cleo.”
“It’s not about whose fault is it— it’s— you know what, Dad? Nevermind.”
Their only comfort was Maricus, whom they clung to at night when they were alone in their quarters, with only their things, their cat and an acceptance letter as they realised they were completely, and utterly alone. They were alone, that was true, but at least, they were themself and they had had enough.
Not wanting to try the Captain further after she dismissed them, Julianus retreated to the crew’s quarters. They sat against the wall nearest to their bed — if one could call a hammock a bed — picked up their notebook and began writing. They wanted to be left alone, so they buried their nose in their writing.
They didn’t expect seeing Saoirse when they looked up, leaning against a column as they watched them write.
“Raleigh again?”
“No, I’m leaving the fictional man rest for a minute or two.”
“Meredith told me you were staying.” At this, Jules stopped writing. “Said you were on permanent crew member probation until you defended your case and your position in Ethari. Then, if she didn’t change her mind, she’ll make you try as a permanent member of the crew, if you also haven’t changed your mind about it.”
Saoirse snorted. “If I was told I’d meet a human like you a year ago, I would’ve thought the person telling me such was drunk.”
Julianus raised an eyebrow at them, wanting to ask what that was supposed to mean, but Saoirse’s eyes were full of tenderness when they met them.
“Meredith also told me you asked. Did you because of me?”
“No,” Jules said as they closed their notebook, standing up to stretch their legs. “I don’t want to part from you, that’s true, I care… a lot about you, and I hope you care about me just the same. I don’t want to stop seeing you everyday, and I don’t want to stop kissing you everyday, and I don’t want to stop learning from and about you. I haven’t mastered the language yet, and there’s more of the Code to study, there’s so many things I haven’t done yet, but it’s not about you, it’s about me.”
Saoirse watched them as silence fell between them, Julianus’ dark eyes looking everywhere but at them. When they did look back at Saoirse's ice-blue ones, their eyes were clouded with tears. “This isn’t quite it, either, but do you know what’s like feeling you’re unwanted everywhere? Because who you are has a big red ‘wrong’ sign attached to it?
“I just don’t want to go. I see, I can see a future here, and I think I’ve been in enough places where I have been unwanted, or wanted wrong, for me to deserve to have a shot at the future I say I want to have. Not the future I was supposed to have by whomever thinks knows me better than I know me.”
Out of all the reactions Saoirse could’ve had, J.C. wasn’t expecting them to stop leaning on their column, and open their arms for them.
Their smile was just as tender as their eyes. “I know you enough to know that if I ask if you want a hug, you’ll say no, but in about five seconds you’ll change your mind.”
Jules’ half laughed, half sobbed. Unable to fight Saoirse’s logic they closed the distance between them, wrapping their arms around their waist, as they felt Saoirse’s arms sling under their arms to hold them close and safe between their arms. Like they were protecting them — from what? Neither of them knew; neither of them asked.
Instead, Jules was happy to bury their face against Saoirse’s chest, taking in the smell of them mixed with linen of their shirt. Saoirse’s cheek rested against the top of their head, only moving to plant a kiss there.
“Julie?” Saoirse said. “I know more about cages than you’d think.”
“I never said anything of—”
“You don’t have to say it for me to know. Before I was what I am now, I was in one, so to speak. Trapped, perhaps, is a better word. Cages all look different, but they all feel the same. There are no cages here, you deserve better than that.”
“I know, I know that now.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Only if you keep calling me ‘Julie’.”
“Were you never told not to make deals with strange Gods?”
As they spoke, Saoirse brushed their lips against theirs, themselves an offering for Julianus to chase. Chase them they did, pressing their lips against Saoirse’s over and over again.
“You’re not a strange God. Or rather, you’re not a stranger to me… You know? You don’t have to tell me what you were before, but I will say this: whomever decided to trap you, is or was a fucking coward.”
Saoirse laughed, the sound ringing around the room on its own accord. Soon enough, Jules found themself laughing too.
I wanted to write something very self-indulgent about my oldest OC ship, so I used a few prompts from the 50 Kissing Prompts and went to town.
Note: Andreya is a nonbinary lesbian who uses she/they/he pronouns. They/them is used primarily in this fic!
Prompts Used: 22. A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party. + 50. A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.
CW: Not a full lemon, but there is some chest fondling, a little bit spicy
Title: And Then She Kissed Me by St. Vincent
1.5k words
Life aboard the Jagged Ruby was never boring, to say the least, as there was always something to do for even the newest member of the crew. And though Andreya was appreciative of their position as the Pirate Queen’s top gunner and fighter (second only to Saoirse, of course) it meant that they had even more duties to attend to than the average crew member.
If they weren’t maintaining the ship’s cannons and overseeing the care of their other weapons, they were training the greener members of the crew, putting their years of training as a knight to use as they instructed the other crew members on their fighting stances and techniques. It left them little time for their mind to wander elsewhere until the sun started to drop in the sky, but when their mind could wander, it always found its way to one subject every time.
Elizabeth, Andreya’s girlfriend, amongst other things, was the first thing they thought about when they woke up and the last thing they thought about when they went to sleep, and the only thing their mind wanted to think about when it wasn’t otherwise occupied. But with her duties as Meredith’s sailing master keeping her almost as busy, their paths rarely crossed during the day.
Andreya supposed that was for the best, as Elizabeth always found ways to distract them—not that they were complaining, but Meredith surely would as she wanted their routes plotted before it got any later in the trading season.
Unable to go check on Elizabeth when they were able to call the training to an end, Andreya found themself wandering below decks to the dining hall and the kitchen, hoping to grab a bite of fruit or bread to eat before dinner. A cheerful voice calling out to them and someone throwing themself at them surprised Andreya from their thoughts.
“Drew!”
Andreya stumbled on the steps but held themself upright, feeling their cheeks warm as they recognized the body pressed against them as Elizabeth. “L-Liza, you almost pushed me over.”
“Oops.” Elizabeth giggled, kissing Andreya’s cheek. “Sorry, honey.” She didn’t sound very sorry, and as her arms snaked around Andreya’s middle, fingers teasing under their shirt, they were sure she had sought them out with an ulterior motive in mind.
The dining hall was still blessedly empty, though Andreya figured it wouldn’t be that way for long. That didn’t stop Elizabeth from continuing to kiss Andreya, her lips trailing down their jaw and neck. Any other time they would have melted into her touch, but the sounds of the crew above and below them were too active for them to relax, not when anyone could walk in behind them.
Andreya bit their lip, hands resting over Elizabeth’s to slow her down, but she refused. “Liza—"
Elizabeth shushed them, one hand sliding further up under Andreya’s shirt to cup their breast, and they jumped. “Elizabeth!”
She pouted, pulling her hands away, and stepped down the stairs to stand in front of Andreya. “No one’s here! And I’ve barely seen you all day. You didn’t even stop by to say hello while Meredith and I were working on the maps.”
“I didn’t think she’d appreciate me coming in there while you were busy.” Andreya said, reaching out to take Elizabeth’s hand in theirs. “I did miss you though.”
“Oh, well, that’s a relief.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes but smiled at them. “At least you missed me.”
“I always miss you.”
Elizabeth hummed, standing on her toes to reach up and kiss Andreya’s lips. “I know.”
Andreya squeezed Elizabeth’s hand as she pulled them down the stairs and around the corner into a more private area of the hall by the kitchen. Elizabeth pressed them against the wall and kissed them again, her hands creeping under their shirt again.
“Liza,” Andreya whined under their breath. “What if someone comes in?”
Elizabeth’s warm brown eyes sparkled mischievously. “There’s enough time to hear someone come down those stairs and fix you up before we’re caught.” When Andreya whimpered in response she took that as permission to keep going, her hands sliding up to fondle their breasts, pinching their nipples lightly between her fingertips. “If you keep quiet.”
She smiled when their hands came to rest on the curve of her ass, pulling her closer. They kissed her, mostly, she suspected, to hide the soft moans that threatened to spill out from their lips as she continued to touch them. Keeping her eyes open, she watched the blush spread across their face, the way their dark eyebrows knit together, little intricate signs she had learned over the many, many years they had spent together.
Elizabeth broke away from the kiss, causing Andreya to blink at her in confusion until she ducked her head and started to nip at their collarbone, leaving a mark behind. They gasped, biting their lip, hands squeezing her ass as she sucked at their skin. She was trying to be good, trying to keep her marks below where Andreya’s shirt normally sat, but she also selfishly loved it when they had a mark just a bit too high to hide, that she could look at throughout the day.
Andreya knew that, and they could feel when her lips traveled up that distance, biting where it was sure to be seen by others later. They moaned, then quickly caught themself, cheeks flaring a darker red. Elizabeth giggled, pulling back to meet their eyes.
“You make the prettiest sounds, honey.”
They shook their head, struggling to look at her out of embarrassment. “You’re teasing me on purpose.”
“Maybe. It’s just so easy.” When they gave her an exasperated look, Elizabeth laughed, pulling her hands out from under their shirt to hold their face as she kissed them. They hummed against her lips but kissed her back, one of their hands shifting from her ass to her chest, and she smiled into the kiss as they gently squeezed her breast.
Everything about them was gentle, and she had always adored that. Even when she would spend afternoons watching them train to protect her when they were both much younger, leaving their hands rough and calloused, the way they helped her unlace her dresses was only ever gentle. It made her want to give everything she could back to them, even if they wouldn’t ask for anything. To anyone else, it looked like Andreya was the one wrapped around Elizabeth’s finger, but while that was certainly true, Elizabeth was just as much at the mercy of whatever Andreya wanted, and she loved it.
She put one of her hands on their hip, teasing the band of their pants, and was about to dive past it when another voice behind them caused them both to jump in shock.
“I know you two aren’t fixing to make love in my kitchen.”
Marjorie, the ship’s cook, stood to their side, her hand on her hip and eyes narrowed. Andreya almost choked, and Elizabeth was almost concerned that they would melt through the floor from mortification.
“Marj—we—I-I’m sorry—”
“I know it wasn’t your fault—” Marjorie said, with a pointed glare at Elizabeth, who smiled cheekily. “But you should at least indulge her elsewhere.”
Andreya wished there was a port hole they could throw themself out of. “Right, yes. I, um—"
“We’re sorry, Marjie,” Elizabeth said, with her best pout. “We’ll get out of your hair.” She took Andreya’s hand in hers and started pulling them back up the stairs to the main deck. “See you later!”
She heard Marjorie’s loud sigh as they ran, but before she could say anything else, they were gone, walking along the deck. The sun was almost completely set, and the crew was getting ready to settle down for the evening, but it was still busy, people bustling past them to finish the last of their duties before dinner was called.
“Elizabeth!” At the sound of Meredith’s voice, both Andreya and Elizabeth turned, seeing her at the helm with Tariq. She said something to him before stepping down to the deck and walking over to them. “I need you to take a look at something Saoirse pointed out on the maps in my quarters.”
“Okay! Right now?”
Meredith nodded, blowing a strand of fiery hair out of her face. “I’d rather settle this tonight than have to look at it again tomorrow. My eyes are starting to cross looking at those damn things.” She glanced down at their joined hands and rolled her eyes. “I’ll be in my quarters, Elizabeth.”
She started to walk away, and Elizabeth called after her. “I’ll be right there!”
Andreya brought Elizabeth’s hand up to their lips and kissed the back of it. “I suppose I’ll see you at dinner, then?”
Sighing, Elizabeth nodded. “I’ll see you at dinner.” She stole a quick kiss and smiled, walking backwards. “I miss you already.”
Andreya’s nose wrinkled as they grinned, waving at her. “I know.”
Made flag designs for each ship—Meredith’s, Rodrigo’s, and Syd’s.
The Jagged Ruby
El Corazon Sangrante
Inuwashi
On the bottom right corner of each flag there is an extra design sewn in—the island system of Ethari.
I’ve mentioned that there are dozens of other pirate crews in the Arcana world (I’ll just only focus on my three) and that there is the Pirate Code for them to follow—however, you don't have to follow the code to be a pirate, obviously part of the allure of piracy is the lack of governing systems and no expectance to listen to authoritative figures.
Pirates that do follow the code are expected to have Ethari sewn into their flags as a way to identify ships that are under the code—for their own protection. Ships under the code are not allowed to attack each other, for example, Meredith couldn’t launch an attack on Rodrigo’s ship (or Syd’s). Any ship without this symbol on their flags are considered unprotected and safe for any crew to attack with no repercussions.
Whether or not a pirate ship without that symbol on their flag walks away alive after an attack depends entirely on the captain. Meredith and Syd never attack with the intention of killing an entire opposing crew, they usually have a set goal in mind, but Rodrigo does and will without hesitation.
cute asks - 15 for Meredith's crew! (Once again, as many or as few of them as you want)
You spoil me 🥺 thank you!!!
Cute OC Asks
15) What do you most relate to the OC? What image do you think of when you think of your OC?
Just doing a list of the first things I think of!
Meredith: Responsibility, leadership, old scars, blood dripping off sword blades, burning firewood, lone wolf, snow with fresh tracks in it, creaking wooden floorboards, red sky at night, bones picked clean, constellations behind clouds
(Yes this is picture of Anne Bonny but I latched onto it before I even knew the show existed and this is just the perfect vibes for Mere)
Saoirse: Solitude, wisdom, ancient libraries, ice clear enough to see to the bottom of the lake, still waters, neon blue, the full moon, cats eyes glowing in the dark, darkness so absolute you can’t see your hand in front of your face, the shadowy figures at the corner of your eyes that disappear when you look
The rest is under the cut!
Tariq: Versatility, maturity, open-minded, masala chai, round wire glasses, worn but strong ropes, reading by lamplight in a hammock, letters stained with coffee rings, burnt fingertips from holding matches too long
Marjorie: Injustice, vengeance, cold anger, blue veins showing on pale skin, blood red sky at morning, lost love, poems on yellowed paper written by feather quills, long dripping candle wax on bookshelves, new moon
Andreya: Loyalty, bravery, uncertainty, clanging metal, chain mail, grass green eyes, cuffed sleeves, hair tied back out of ones face, training until your clothes are dripping in sweat
Elizabeth: Curiosity, stubbornness, first to volunteer, warm sunny days with no clouds, fresh flowers, ink stains on hands and dresses, pearl earrings, manicured hands
Theodore: Knowledge seeker, pacifist, cracked leather on old books, ink smeared on cheeks, late nights spent reading until the sun rises, yearning, burning candles until they die, bandages on fingers
Bring it in for the last (named) pirate of my three crews!!!
Picrews: Left, Right
This is Marjorie (Marj, or Marjie for short), the head cook for Meredith’s crew
Been around for a while, like a while
Like suspiciously long
(She’s another vampire, but much much older than Lamprey)
She and her lover fell into the Strait of Sirens hundreds of years ago during a bad storm, Saoirse was only able to pull her from the waters, and her lover died
Was turned by another crew member in effort to save her, and they did, but Marjorie resented both that crew member and Saoirse for a long time
They’re on good terms now, it’s been a long time, but Marj still has all the scars from the sirens’ attacks
She doesn’t like to fight so much anymore, so she took over as head cook a few Queens ago, and she’s been pretty satisfied
Smokes a lot, drinks a lot, neither of them affect her so she sees no reason to stop
Yells more than Meredith does but mostly because the kitchen is always loud
Has a soft spot for Meredith though she doesn’t act like it — but if you offhandedly mention Mere being in a bad mood or something Marjorie will put in a little more effort into making something she likes for dinner
Saoirse takes full advantage of this (and she knows it, but just grumbles and does it anyway)
Don’t get in her way when she’s cooking or you may end up filleted
Wasn’t expecting to have this done so soon but here it is, another installment in Meredith’s love life — next will probably be her masquerade fic with Theodore.
In which, Theodore asks Meredith a question one night while drunk, and her answer surprises him, leading to a long overdue conversation about feelings.
Also including @sunrisenfool‘s J.C. Sanlaurento with the rest of the crew!
CW: Alcohol
Title: Rose-Colored Boy by Paramore
3.6k words
For as rough a life on the seas could be, the crew of the Ruby was far from unhappy. They had just recently finished a successful raid, and they were tired, but in high spirits, which only grew when Meredith gave the announcement of what she called a free night. There would be no curfew, no expectations—so long as nothing was broken—the crew was free to do as they pleased. They would even be able to sleep in a little in the morning.
Which usually meant drink, and in excess. As Meredith unlocked the storage of the ship’s alcohol, the crew cheered until she waved them off.
“I don’t want to hear a single one of you complaining about being hungover tomorrow, do you understand me?”
A chorus of “yes, sir” and “got it, captain,” rang out behind her as she started pulling bottles to hand off, and it wasn’t long before anyone who wanted a drink had one, the galley alive with everyone talking at once.
Most of the crew were heavy drinkers (none heavier than Marjorie, though she didn’t count since alcohol had no effect on her) but Theodore was not, and it did not take him long to feel the alcohol running through him, his head light and tongue loose. He wasn’t bothered by it, he was having a great time, laughing at the stories Tariq and Saoirse told, sitting at a table with his friends. But every once in a while, he found his gaze leaving them to follow Meredith as she walked around the galley, stopping to talk with each table. He wanted to call out to her but wasn’t sure if he could.
Julianus did it for him, waving at her from their spot next to Saoirse, the quartermaster’s arm around their waist. Meredith made a face, but still came over to their table, an eyebrow raised.
“If that hand moves any lower, Saoirse, I’m going to kill you.”
They just smiled serenely at her. “You can try.”
She rolled her eyes but sat down with them, at the opposite end of Theodore, who couldn’t take his eyes off her, though he was really trying.
He watched as she watched the rest of the group, her chin propped on her hand as Tariq launched into another story about when his aunt, Aria, was Queen. She even laughed, lightly, but it was still a laugh, and Theodore’s heart felt warm in his chest.
He wasn’t sure what happened, but at some point, Meredith started to look tired, and she stood from the table, waving them off to head out of the galley to the deck. Theo followed her with his eyes, wondering, not for the first time that day, or even that hour, what she was thinking about.
When he turned his attention back to the table around him, everyone, Saoirse, J.C., Andreya, Elizabeth, and Tariq were giving him similar, conspiring, looks.
Elizabeth nudged him, giving him a wink. “Why don’t you go check on her? Keep her company.”
Maybe another time he would have paused, asked if she was sure. But the alcohol dulled his common sense just enough for him to nod, stand up, and immediately go after Meredith, not paying any attention to the comments his friends made as he left.
He made his way up to the deck, though not without a bit of a struggle, the stairs working against him, but eventually he was breathing in the salty night air, and saw Meredith standing by the railing of the ship.
“Meredith!”
She looked up, and he walked over to her. “Theodore. What are you doing out here?”
“Just, you know, needed some fresh air.” When she raised an eyebrow, he continued. “And maybe I wanted to join you. Keep you company.”
“Keep me company,” she repeated.
“Yeah! Didn’t want you to be missing out on any of the fun.”
“You’re… really fucking drunk, aren’t you.”
“What?” Theodore leaned on the railing next to her, waving his hand dismissively. “No. I’ve never been sober-er in my life!” He paused; years of schooling erased from his mind. “Sober… more sober? Less drunk?”
Meredith gave him an exasperated look, one he was fairly used to seeing from her, but it seemed softer somehow. Everything about her seemed softer at night, under the stars. The sun’s harsh light gone, her face was relaxed, and he could see all of it, as she had abandoned her hat with her coat back below deck. As he stared at her, her hair moved in the breeze, still tied back, but loose around her face. He wanted to run his hands through it, but luckily, he wasn’t so far gone as to try.
Gods, you’re so beautiful, he thought.
When she flushed, pushing away from the railing, he realized his lips were looser than he thought. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, but she didn’t leave, still standing next to him.
Fighting against his own brain, eventually they fell into a relatively normal conversation about the events of the day, and the state of the rest of the crew below. He wasn’t sure when he had stepped close enough to brush against her as they spoke, and he wasn’t sure why she hadn’t moved away, but it sparked a burst of foreign confidence—over-confidence, he would say—that led him to ask:
“May I kiss you?”
Even in his drunken haze a part of him was screaming: what are you doing? But he didn’t move away, and kept his gaze on her face, on her lips. He expected her to yell at him or ignore him completely. To leave or send him away. She didn’t.
When he finally met her eyes, he was surprised by the forlorn look in them, something old and sad for reasons he didn’t know or understand.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because…” he remembered his hands and rested them on her arms, thumbs stroking the fabric of her white shirt. She didn’t break their stare, face unchanging. “Because I want to. I really want to. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re drunk out of your mind,” Meredith sighed. “I’ll get Saoirse to help you to your bunk.” She put a hand over his and made to pull away, but he turned his hand to hold hers instead.
“No, Meredith, maybe—maybe I am drunk, but I mean it. I always want to kiss you.” He squeezed her hand, pressing closer to her. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a really long time. Years, now. And—I mean, maybe more than that, but just a kiss would be good, if you also wanted it.”
She choked; eyes wide. “Years?”
Theo nodded, gesturing with his free hand around them. It was definitely the alcohol that made his words come so easily, but he meant every single one. “Ever since I joined, what, eight years ago now, I’ve always admired you. The, uh, wanting to kiss you part came a bit later, but not much. At first, I tried to ignore it, I really did, but I learned a long time ago that it hurts more to ignore how I feel, about anything, than to just give into it. I’ve never expected anything back, I don’t need it. But I do want it, just like I want to kiss you. Meredith, I—"
“Okay, okay, enough!” She groaned, her face red, not looking at him. “I get it, gods.”
Biting the inside of his cheek, Theodore waited. When he was younger, he never had to wait for anything, as spoiled as he was, and maybe it made him a little impatient in the day to day, but he found he didn’t always mind it. Not when it was Meredith he was waiting for.
She let go of his hand, but before he could fear that she was going to leave, her hand came to rest on his waist instead. Butterflies emerged inside him from just that touch, and he leaned into it, swaying on his feet just slightly. With a rough sigh she met his eyes again. “Fine. You can do it.”
He felt his heart skip. “Really?”
She laughed through her nose, looking him up and down. “It’s not like you’ll remember it anyway.”
Theo really, really hoped she would be wrong.
Slowly, he reached up to cup her face in his hands, and let his thumb stroke the scar over her cheek. Gaze never leaving his, Meredith waited, not making any attempt to stop his touches. Her grip on his waist tightened, and feeling her fingers press into his skin was the last push he needed to tilt his head up slightly to kiss her.
As his eyes slid closed, he felt himself melt into her, head light from more than just the alcohol he had consumed. Her lips were slightly chapped against his, and her cheeks were warm under his fingers. It was everything he had dreamed of, but better, because he wasn’t dreaming, at least he really hoped so. He was ready to pull away when he felt her kiss him back, just for a moment, and then her lips were gone, and he blinked his eyes open again.
A little out of breath, Theo felt his knees go weak when he realized Meredith was still looking at him, and when she licked her lips, a shiver went down his spine.
“Woah,” he murmured. He thought he would have more to say, but all words he had ever known, in all the languages he knew, had vanished. He could only look up at her, at the way the moon haloed around her head, and try to focus on not kissing her again, as much as he wanted to.
Though, as her eyes didn’t leave his face, his lips, he wondered if she wanted to kiss him again.
Just as he finally opened his mouth to ask, his words returning to him, they both heard someone coming up the stairs from the galley. Meredith let go of his waist, and stepped away, as Saoirse and Julianus appeared, both of their heads immediately snapping over to where Meredith and Theodore stood.
“I hope we didn’t interrupt anything,” Saoirse said, with a look on their face that Theo took to meant that they knew they had.
Meredith shook her head. “No. Theodore was about to head back to the galley.” Before he could argue against her, she started to walk past them all, towards her own quarters. “I’m heading to bed. Saoirse, don’t let anyone break anything.”
Saoirse watched her pass, sharing a look with J.C., who hid a grin behind their hand. “Got it. Good night, Meredith.”
Before Theo could even get another word out, Meredith was gone. He didn’t remember much of the rest of the night, he knew he ended up back at the table, and drank some more, but not much else. He woke up in his bunk with an awful headache, and the sounds of the rest of the crew moving around him, mind foggy.
“Well, good morning, your highness. Or should I say good afternoon, as you slept in longer than anyone else here.”
He blinked his eyes open to meet green ones, and almost jumped until he realized they were Andreya’s green, not Meredith’s. Next to them, J.C. stood with their arms crossed, a look similar to Saoirse’s from the night before on their face—for a moment, he wasn’t sure if they had picked it up from Saoirse or if it was the other way around.
“If you’re awake enough, would you mind sharing what exactly you and Meredith were doing on the deck last night?”
“Last night?” Theo struggled to remember; thoughts hazy. He pressed his fingers to his lips out of habit, but then the kiss came flooding back to him. Yet, he wasn’t convinced it had happened, as he had dreamed about doing exactly that hundreds of times. But… he could still feel her touch on his waist, and he hadn’t dreamed that before, so vividly.
The way he paused did not go unnoticed, and both J.C. and Andreya pressed closer.
“Did you kiss her?”
“I… No way. I mean, I feel like I remember something like that, but I’ve dreamed that before.” He looked between them. “There’s no way it actually happened… right?”
Drew shook her head. “I wouldn’t be so sure. She’s been a little distracted all day, you know.”
“What?”
J.C. hummed in agreement, both of them stepping back as he stood up, clutching at his head. “She even asked me to check on you—I almost thought she was going to do it herself.”
“Okay, now,” he sighed, stretching his arms over his head. “You’re just teasing me.”
“You would deserve it, for teasing me about Saoirse, but no, I’m not.”
Theo wasn’t really sure what to make of that. If anyone had asked him yesterday what Meredith thought of him, he would ask them why they assumed she thought of him at all. Or as anything more than the ship’s doctor, or someone who was too loud and happy all the time. He thought she was the most amazing person he had ever met, but for her to be concerned about him, it didn’t really make sense.
Almost as little sense as the fact that she had let him kiss her in the first place. Or that she had kissed him back.
Once he had splashed water on his face and eaten a little food that Marjorie had set aside for him, he helped the rest of the crew with what still had to be done around the ship, but he was always looking for Meredith. Maybe it was on purpose, but they almost never crossed paths. He would hear her voice and turn towards it, but she was always heading away from him, and he couldn’t pull himself away from the chore he was doing.
Finally, as the night began to wind down, he took it upon himself to approach her. He went straight to Saoirse, who let him know she was in her quarters, looking over some maps. When he hesitated, they put their hand on his back and pushed him gently towards her.
“I think you both need to talk,” they said, and he nodded, taking a deep breath and walking to Meredith’s quarters.
He knocked on the door first, and once he heard a distracted “come in,” walked inside. Meredith was sitting in the middle of her quarters, at her desk, papers laid across the entire thing, an ink pen in one hand, her forehead in the other. Her eyebrows were furrowed together, looking every bit just as intimidating as she always did, even without her coat and hat, both hung over the back of her chair.
“Meredith?”
“Hm?” She didn’t look up from her desk, grumbling under her breath.
He tried again, stepping closer, and as he came into her view, she finally tore her gaze away from the papers in front of her.
“What is it, Theodore?”
“I want… May we talk?”
She set her pen down, wiping her hand of ink, though he noticed there was a small spot of ink on her cheek. “We’re talking.”
“Right, um, I mean, I want to talk about something specific.”
Meredith looked him over, and her eyes caught on his hands, wringing nervously in front of him. “Okay.” She sat back. “Go ahead.”
He had thought nonstop about how he was going to approach the question he wanted to ask, maybe start with a story, a joke, or slowly build up to it, but what came out instead, his voice soft, was: “Did I ask to kiss you last night?”
“You remember.” Meredith sighed, but just nodded. “Yes.”
“And… you let me?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Her eyes flickered away from him, voice quieter than it had been. “I’m not sure.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said, before he could stop himself. She met his eyes again as he stepped closer to the desk. “Meredith, I know you don’t do anything without being sure of yourself, you always are.”
She shook her head. “This is… different.”
“What is this, what does that mean?”
“Ugh, I don’t—I’m not—Fuck.” Meredith groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I’m not good at this.”
“What is this,” he repeated, and she got up from her chair, walking around the desk to stand next to him.
“I…” She grit her teeth, glancing around them though they were alone in her quarters. “I don’t know. Okay? I don’t. Last night I was feeling kind of shitty, and I went outside to get some air. And then you showed up, and I thought… I thought I was just going to send you away, but I didn’t. Because it was nice, talking to you. I guess I could blame the alcohol for loosening your damn tongue, but it was nice. And I didn’t feel shitty anymore.”
Her cheeks were red, but she kept going, though still not looking directly at him. “Then, when you asked me, I… I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand why you would want to kiss me. And I didn’t understand why I wanted to say yes. Until I realized that… that wasn’t the first time you made me not feel like shit.”
Theo thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest. “Meredith,” he whispered.
“You’re always so… so much, but after a while I started to look for it, for you. I think… A part of me was hoping you would join me on the deck last night. A part of me that I didn’t really know existed until you were there, and I was… happy you were.”
“Meredith.”
Finally, she met his eyes. “What?”
“I thought you hated me.” When she stopped, shock clear on her face, he backtracked a little, holding his hands up. “Okay, maybe not hated, but I just, I didn’t think—it would have never crossed my mind in a hundred years that you would even think about me in a positive way, much less—” His voice caught in his throat. “Much less that you would think about me like I think about you.”
“I don’t know how you think, Theo.” She laughed through her nose. “Which drives me crazy, most of the time. But I don’t… I don’t hate you.”
He felt like he was holding his breath as he slowly reached out to take her hand in his. She glanced down but didn’t pull away. “I made you happy, last night?”
She nodded, once. “Not just last night, either.”
“Oh.” At a loss for words, for once, he squeezed her hand, saying the only thing left in his mind. “Meredith, may I kiss you, again?”
This time, without answering, she kissed him. And he kissed her back, eyes fluttering shut as her hands found his waist again, his hands on her shoulders.
He felt like he was drunk again, head light, dizzy with each pass of their lips, clinging to her like he would fall if she let go. He was falling, had fallen, already, really, and he had never been more at peace. When she pulled back this time, he stole one more kiss, delighted with the idea that he had managed to steal anything from the Pirate Queen, and as if she knew that, she laughed through her nose.
“Spoiled brat,” she murmured, pressing their foreheads together for a moment. He just smiled, catching his breath. Maybe he really was spoiled, spoiled by the gods for giving him this moment.
“Please…” she started, then stopped just as quickly, rolling her eyes. “I was going to ask you not to say anything to the rest of the crew, but I have no doubt that at least Saoirse has their ear to my fucking door—not that they’d need to be so close to hear—and whatever they know, Sanlaurento knows, so it’s likely the whole crew will find out whether you say anything or not.”
“Is that bad?”
Her cheeks darkened. “It’s not bad, I guess. I just know no one’s going to fucking shut up about it, and that may kill me—provided I don’t kill them first.”
He laughed at that and took a moment to brush the spot of ink off of her cheek with his thumb, wiping it on his dark pants. “I mean, I don’t have to leave yet, do I?”
“You finished all of the chores you had to do, especially after sleeping in so late?”
Maybe there was a little bit of liquid courage left in his bloodstream for him to reply cheekily: “Yes, ma’am, I finished them.”
“Do not call me that,” she said, her nose wrinkled. “But, no, you don’t have to leave. Maybe…” she glanced at the papers still on her desk. “Maybe you could help me.”
He gave her a bright grin, resting his forehead against hers again. “I’d love to.”
She let go of him, but stayed on the same side of the desk, turning her attention back to the maps she was studying. Elizabeth knew much more about maps than he did, and Meredith knew that, but she still wanted Theo to help her. It made his heart warm and soft in his chest, and he leaned over the desk with her, answering questions as she asked them, pointing to places he knew and routes they could take.
They each rested a hand on the desk as they talked, and if their smallest fingers laced together, neither of them commented on it, save to squeeze the other every once in a while. Eventually, they would have to leave Meredith’s quarters, and no doubt they would each be cornered with questions from their friends and the rest of the crew, but not yet, and Theo wanted to enjoy every second.
