Shiver Me Timbers
The house was quiet. For once.
Sam and Jay were over at the restaurant which was, thankfully, booked up for the evening, and the other ghosts had decided tonight would be a prime night of people watching and food smelling. All of them made their way over, Trevor trailing behind, vanishing only after giving Hetty a wink and an eyebrow wiggle. Insufferable.
Which left Hetty alone. Well, almost alone.
Captain O’Malley stared into the fireplace, watching the fire as it began to dwindle, her usual devil-may-care smirk replaced with something more pensive. The last of the flames crackled causing a warm glow to flicker across the sharp edges of her jawline, casting a shadow over the faint scar that cut through her lip. Her low ponytail hung over one shoulder, the faded red ribbon woven into her curls like an afterthought.
“Yer awfully quiet tonight, love,” O’Malley drawled, her Irish accent curling around each word like smoke. “Almost like yer avoidin’ somethin’.”
“I am not avoiding you,” Hetty snapped, too quickly, cursing herself for revealing inner thoughts. “I simply have no interest in speaking with you at the present moment.”
O’Malley chuckled, turning from the fireplace and strolling toward her with an unbearable kind of ease. “Aye, of course. That’s why yer still here, eh? Instead a’ with the others?”
Hetty’s jaw clenched. “I remain because as lady of the house, it is my duty to ensure that any new ghosts on the property are properly… acclimated.”
“I see,” O’Malley said, stopping just in front of her. “And here I thought ye just might enjoy my company.”
Her voice was much softer now—still teasing, but there was something beneath it. Something genuine. Hetty hated how much she wanted to hear more of it.
She should leave. She needs to leave. But instead, her eyes remained locked on Jo—on the cut of her sharp jaw, the freckles that dusted her skin, the curve of her lips, as if she already knew every thought racing through Hetty’s mind.
“How long do you plan on tormenting me?” Hetty straightened, doing her best to look down on Jo, though the pirate was a bit taller.
O’Malley tilted her head, her smile softening just a little. “Depends, love. How long do ye plan on pretendin’ part of ya don’t want this?”
Hetty felt her heart stop. This—this was absurd. She had spent her entire life shoving away these feelings, burying anything outside the confines of what was expected. And yet here was this infuriating, intolerable, beautiful woman, threatening to unravel it all she had fought to lock away.
But perhaps Hetty had locked herself away long enough.
Before she could think better of it, she stepped forward, closing the small distance between them. For a breathless moment, she hovered—close enough to feel the warmth radiating from O’Malley’s skin, close enough to see the flicker of surprise in her aquamarine eyes.
Then, Hetty kissed her.
It wasn’t soft. Or delicate. Hetty poured every feeling of frustration—every second of buried desire—into the kiss, as if finally claiming something that had been taken from her for far too long.
O’Malley made a sound low in her throat, clearly caught off guard. But it didn’t take long for her to recover—her hands rising to Hetty’s corseted waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, and Hetty felt herself floating, not caring about anything but the warmth of the pirate against her, the taste of sea salt and mischief on her lips.
When she finally pulled back, breathless and shaking, there was no sign of Jo’s signature smirk. Instead, she just stared at Hetty— a mixture of surprise and adoration on her face.
“Well,” O’Malley said, voice low. “Didn’t expect that.”
Hetty swallowed hard, chest heaving. “Neither did I.”
For once, O’Malley didn’t tease. Instead, she reached up, brushing a loose curl behind Hetty’s ear, chuckling with surprising gentleness as ghost rules popped it right back into place. “Ya don’t have to fight this, ya know.”
And that, more than anything else, was what truly unraveled her.
“I don’t…” Hetty swallowed, her fortress crumbling faster than she could think of rebuilding it. “I don’t know how to do anything else.”
O’Malley smiled—soft. “Well lucky for us, we got all the time in the world.”
The silence stretched between them—thick and heavy. Her not-heart was still pounding from the kiss, her unnecessary breath unsteady as she tried to compose herself. But it was impossible with Jo’s hands still on her waist, looking at her like that.
O’Malley tilted her head, studying her carefully. “Ye know,” she said, her voice lower now, gentler, “I’d be lyin’ if I said I’ve not wanted this since the first moment I laid eyes on ye.”
Hetty let out a breathless laugh. “You are impossible.”
“Aye,” she said, pulling Hetty just a little closer. “But I think ye like the challenge.”
Hetty didn’t respond—not with words. Instead, she closed the distance between them again, her arms winding around Jo’s neck as she pulled her into another kiss. This time, it was slower—less an explosion, more an exploration. And God help her, she wanted to explore every inch.
O’Malley smiled softly against her lips, her hands tightening on Hetty’s waist, fingers curling in the fabric of her dress like she never wanted to let go. There was nothing polite or restrained about it—it was soft and warm and real, and it sent a flood of warmth through her.
When they finally broke apart, O’Malley rested her forehead against Hetty’s, her breath warm and uneven. “Ye keep kissin’ me like that, love,” she teased, “and I might start thinkin’ ye fancy me.”
Hetty huffed a breathless laugh despite herself. “You’re intolerable.”
“Ah love” O’Malley said, brushing her thumb lightly over Hetty’s lip, and it was so gentle—so unexpectedly sweet—that Hetty felt her chest tighten. “If I were truly that intolerable, ye wouldn’t be smilin’ right now.”
For once in her long, suffocating existence, she didn’t push away.
And when Hetty kissed her again, she didn’t even try to stop herself.