#barbossa2319.asks

[levi-supreme]

👀

Hello dear!! Thank you for entertaining me heh. So this year, I posted a very EXTREMELY indulgent selfship birthday smut with Levi, and I wanted to explore the same idea but with a different approach, so I'm writing a Levi x fem!reader version to be posted on my birthday next year!!

The fic is nsfw but I'm sharing the sfw part hehe. Also, the fic is of course inspired by my selfship version, but it is also going to be different too!

Your birthday dinner was splendid and you even had a birthday cake given to you free of charge from the restaurant. The manager also gave you and Levi two 10% discount coupons and hoped that you would patronise again. You were extremely pleased with their service too, and you knew you and Levi would definitely return again. 

Once you both finished eating, Levi ushered you out of the restaurant and you both walked back to his car. You were excited to know where Levi will bring you to after dinner. However, you recognised that the route Levi took was back to the hotel and you felt your heart sink. 

“W-we’re going back already? But it’s still early,” you pouted, disappointed that the night was ending so quickly. Levi held your hand while his other was on the steering wheel. 

“Your present is in the room, brat.” Levi chuckled, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. Hearing that, you felt slightly happier. Maybe Levi is surprising me with something, you thought to yourself.

End of year WIP meme ask game!

[sharkbait77]

Frankie’s Favorite Day (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Rating: E/NSFW

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY Oral (f rec), language, Frankie being Frankie

W/C: No clue, written in the drafts!

A/N: Heh so... This ficlet was inspired by this amazing post here & idk man Frankie is just really hyped about this day 😂 ty to my baby @frankie-catfish-morales for approving & hyping me tf up!

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @barbossa2319 @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @ezrasbirdie @danniburgh @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @meesterblack @amandalovess @hunterofartem1s @pedro4ever @mishasminion360 @wardenparker @librariantothejedi @fan-of-encouragement @javierpinme @writeforfandoms

Masterlist || Taglist

June 24th. It's not his birthday, it's not your anniversary, it's not some big fight night for Benny. And yet, he keeps it marked on the calendar, multiple circles drawn over the date on the paper.

"Frankie, what's so special about tomorrow? Is it the day you grew your first pubic hair, or what?" You snort.

"No, that's not until September," he replies seriously, then you both laugh.

"But really, baby, what's the 24th? Am I forgetting something?"

"You'll see, honey. You'll see," he looks at you with a mischievous grin on his face and your eyebrows crinkle with intrigue at his response.

* * * *

You'll see.

Boy, was he right.

He's a man unhinged this morning; his sudden attack had caught you off guard while you were just sitting there in the living room, catching up on all of your socials like usual. He emerged from the bedroom, padded his way to you and snatched your phone right out of your hand. When you looked up at him in confusion, his eyes were dark and he was licking his lips hungrily. It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Frankie baby... What are you up to?" You asked knowingly.

He said nothing as he grabbed your thighs from where they were resting on the cushion and you let out a squeak as he bent down to kiss you, open mouthed and passionate while he removed your sleep shorts.

You wondered what exactly changed from last night to this morning. Maybe he had another dirty dream and just felt like fucking this morning. Which, of course you wouldn't complain about.

But now, here he is, your legs spread wide open for him on the couch, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs. Your hands are glued to his hair while his tongue works masterfully at your clit as he pulls another orgasm from you with no intention of stopping.

"Fuck – Frankie, honey," you whine with desperation as the oversensitivity hits your body and makes you twitch under him.

He uses the flat of his tongue to lick up from your entrance and drinks everything you have to give him and he moans in delight. He slows down slightly, his dark brown orbs staring into yours and he smirks.

"Frankie, are you gonna fuck me already?" You plead, cunt throbbing as you anticipate the stretch of him inside you.

"Not yet, baby," he says huskily, his hot breath hitting your sensitive, wet folds and your thighs twitch.

Oh, how he wants to. His throbbing cock beneath his boxers is weeping, practically begging to be inside you. He will later, but for now, he'll enjoy his favorite day just like this. Then later at the dinner table, and later in the shower.

You roll your head to rest on the back of the couch as he dives in again, throwing your legs over his shoulders and he grabs your hips, keeping you in place. Your moans, whines, whimpers of his name is honeyed music in his ears, a soundtrack he will never tire of hearing. He doesn't need a special day to savor you like this, but he'd be damned if he didn't use it as the perfect excuse to eat you out from sunup to sundown.

After yet another orgasm, you have to practically pry his face away from your pussy and he cocks an eyebrow at you.

"Baby, I can't anymore, please fuck me."

"Uh uh," he protests, giving a little kitten lick to your folds.

"Wha– why?" You whine, like a brat not getting what they want.

"Because, today's just for this," he smiles and kisses the inside of your thigh, juices from his ministrations transferring to your skin.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's National Pussy Eating Day, baby. My favorite day of the year," he smirks.

Once the realization hits, you throw your heavy head back against the couch and laugh. He had done this last year too and never said why. You were in the beginning stages of your sexual relationship and you just figured he had a thing for eating you out. You didn't bother to ask, but now it all makes sense.

He laughs along with you for a moment, kneeling up from the floor with a light groan and he kisses your lips, the taste of you still lingering. He separates from your mouth to kiss your neck and quickly nibbles your earlobe before strutting away to the kitchen.

"W-wait, where are you going?" You ask, now fully invested in celebrating this day with him.

"Getting you some water," he says as he opens the fridge door. "You better stay hydrated 'cause we're doing this all day."

[loridrabbles]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a head canon we’re the reader does in the clones arms? Thank you! P. S love your writing 😊

So this isn't a Headcanon list but I thought this request paired well with "#3 with Kix?" From @barbossa2319

   "No no no no no." Kix thought to himself as he boarded the transport that would he taking him and his brothers off Geonosis. He had gotten him and his wife's preset "get home now. I'm in labor" message on his communicator. Luckily when he recieved it, the 501st was heading home instead of in the middle of battle.

     "Can we board this thing any slower?" He asked, getting a little agitated. Rex was the only one who knew about the relationship. From Kix's irritability, he figured out what was going on. He placed his hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile and nod.

     "You'll be to her in time." He said quietly. It didn't do much to settle his nerves, come on his wife was having a baby, but it made him take a deep breath and practice patience.

     Kix sprinted down the halls of the medical facility, trying to find the right delivery room.

     "5115....5114...5112 here it is!" He said to himself. He went to open the door, but was stopped by a nurse.

     "Sir,  you can't be in here!" She said.

     "That's my wife."

     "She is in an unstable condition. The doctor needs space to work, now you have to wait outside." She said as he tried to push past her.

     "No. I have to see her! I have to be there I can't miss this."

     "The baby has already delivered, but Miss (L/n)'s life is at risk. I can't let you in."

     "Let me see my wife!" He raised his voice. The doctor called for the nurse to let him in and gave her a solemn stare she had seen all too often in situations like this.

     "Please. Stay on the left side of the bed." She said changing her tone and letting Kix into the room. "Pat her forehead with a cool cloth if you'd like."

     He saw (y/n) in the bed, hooked up to monitors and all kinds of machines. She was pale and covered in a cold sweat, her eyelids half closed. Though she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, she looked horrible.

     "My love, I'm here." He said taking her hand in both of his. He brought it to his lips and kissed it softly, looking at her face for some kind of sign that she knew he was there. The faintest smile formed on her lips.

     "Kix." She croaked out, her voice still sweet to his ears.

     "I'm here, love, I'm here." He said picking up the cloth to wipe her sweaty face clean. "I'm sorry I missed it. I'm so sorry."

     "It's ok. It was a relatively easy birth up until now."

     "Shes right." The nurse said. "She only had to push 3 or 4 times. She took it like a champ." She smiled and took her other hand. "But she has a retained placenta and its causing severe bleeding that we're having trouble stopping."

     "Are you in any pain?" He asked, caressing her cheek.

     "Not at all. I'm just so tired." She said. For a few minutes, they talked quietly as he continued to wipe her face to keep her cool. She took at deep breath and got an funny look in her eye.

     "Kix." She called.

     "Yes, love."

     "I love you so much." She said.

     "I love you too. More than anything."

     "Kix." She said, more solemnly.

     "No. You're going to be ok." He insisted. 

     "Come here." She said holding out her arms. The doctors around them were yelling and stumbling over eachother as they hugged. He planted a kiss on her lips and caressed her cheek.

     "You're going to be ok. Stay with me. No no.  Stay with me, love, please." He begged her as her eyes faded and her skin turned paler. "No..." He breathed, noticing her heartrate monitor had stopped pulsing. He had lost so many of his brothers before, but this was different. This brought tears to his eyes.

     "Sir." Another nurse stood behind him with a small bundle of blankets in her arms. "Would you like to meet your son?" She asked. He took the baby into his arms and the tears dripping down his face turned to streams.

     He had never held a baby before and the tiny little human in his arms was his. He looked just like (y/n) but he had his nose and plump lips. He wanted nothing more than to protect this child from anything the galaxy threw at them. The world stopped, when he looked into his baby's eyes for the first time.

[levi-supreme]

Hi Rei!!!! 🤡 and ⏳from the writer emoji asks!

Hiii my dear!!!!!! Thank you for sending me something too!! I'm answering this below the cut as well because I'm long winded hehe.

Fanfic writer emoji ask!

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

Haha I answered this previously over here, but I do have another answer for you!

I think this particular paragraph/scene from In Control (Levi x fem!reader, nsfw) was pretty funny imo:

“I feel like having something creamy today, you?” Looking at Levi, you slowly moved one hand up his quads and gently squeezed his inner thigh. Once, twice, thrice, you massaged his thigh until his hand went to grab your wrist.

This drabble is something I really treasure too, because it was the first time people requested for a sequel for my writing and I gladly obliged and wrote an unintended sequel 😂

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

OH MAN I have no proper answer for this haha. It really depends on my inspiration, the amount of time I have, and my focus 💀

For example, I wrote the sequel to In Control titled Letting Go (Levi x fem!reader, nsfw) in just one day because I was so highly motivated by the love In Control received, and I wanted to deliver it fast.

I wrote Levi's Valentine pretty quick as well, even though it was my first attempt in a multi-chaptered fic. I guess I completed this really fast because I was really motivated, and I planned for the fic to be posted weekly on Valentine's Day till White Day, so I really wanted to stick to schedule and deliver this sweet fluffy piece!!

I also wrote majority of my requests from my Thirsty Thursday: A 100 Different Kisses really quick too!! I think it was because I was home for the lunar new year holidays and had a lot of free time, plus I was very motivated and had lots of inspiration from the cute prompts too!! I managed to post most of the requests on the same day it was sent to me, and I'm so proud of myself for doing so haha.

ON THE OTHER HAND. I took so effing long to write Ten (Levi x fem!reader, nsfw, dark content) partly because it was something that was totally out of my comfort zone, and it was hard for me to write too. I'm still a little meh about this piece, but nonetheless, I'm glad I managed to write something out of my comfort zone and challenge myself!

I also took pretty long writing Levi's birthday fic for his birthday in 2021 titled Happy Birthday Levi (Levi x fem!reader, nsfw) because it contained kinks that I wasn't familiar with HAHA.

My goal for 2023 really is to, uh, try and write more consistently lol... but then again, I'll always somehow have random bursts of inspiration, so... we shall see how well I manage this year 🤭

[levi-supreme]

Hi there, 12 & 43 from the fic writer questions!!!

Hi!!! Sorry I took a while XD but thank you for sending me these questions!!!

12: Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

Hmmmm.... tbh I don't think there has been any changes to what I like and dislike XD hahahaha. I still enjoy reading what I love, and I still avoid what I don't enjoy lol.

43: If you take/write prompts: what’s your favorite prompt fic that you’ve written?

Hehe the only time I took prompts was for Thirsty Thursday: A 100 different kisses, and I really had a lot of fun writing them!! I'm glad many people liked the kiss drabbles too <33 the master list can be found here!!

Some of my personal favourites are as follow:

Levi

11: A kiss that says “we’re late for work, but let’s be later” (Levi x gender neutral!reader; SFW, fluff. Established relationship (Levi and reader are married).

94: Untying your lover’s tie, using it to pull your lover into a kiss (Levi x fem!reader; SFW, fluff. Established relationship (Levi and reader are married). Levi and reader also have a daughter).

Eren

75: Standing on your tippy toes, frustrated you can’t reach your lover’s lips (Eren x fem!reader; SFW, fluff. Height isn’t specified but reader is a lot shorter than Eren).

Questions for fic writers

[levi-supreme]

Rei's Event: Happy Birthday Levi 2022

Yes, I am back with this event again!!! Last year's Happy Birthday Levi was such a success, and I knew I had to do it again this year!

Similar to last year's format, one Levi-related post will be made per day starting from 25 November, and ending on his birthday on 25 December, like an advent calendar!

The theme for this event would be ‘Sweet like Sugar’. Unlike last year, this year's event will be strictly sfw only! Fics, artwork, headcanons, drabbles, moodboards, anything featuring Levi is welcomed! You can also do reader inserts, self-inserts/self-ship, anything! You can do more than one work too!

The tag I’ll be using for this event is #rei’s event: happy birthday Levi 2022. So if you do not want to get spammed, you may block this tag!

Status: CLOSED (0/31 slots available)

Rules:

1. Anyone 16 and above can join in this event! You don't have to be following me to join in.

2. I welcome any sort of work as long as Levi is the main character. Levi x reader, Levi x character, Levi x oc, Levi x you etc are all welcomed!

3. This is a SFW-only fluff event. Angst is allowed as long as it's hurt/comfort, or there's a happy ending. Likewise, suggestive themes are okay as long as it is still fluffy with no form of smut involved. Please be reminded again that no (major) character death, no dark content, and no nsfw will be allowed.

4. The first few posts should be ready by 25 November. If you are unable to finish before then, let me know so that I can delay your post to a later date.

How to join:

1. Send me an ask or a dm to let me know what content you will be doing for Levi. Let me know which date you want to post your creation by checking the list of available dates below the cut. Multiple posts are allowed!

2. If your preferred date is taken, I will let you know ASAP and you can choose another date accordingly.

3. Reblog this post once I’ve added you to the master list to acknowledge your participation.

4. Let me know early if you are unable to meet the dateline too!

5. Tag me (@levi-supreme) in your finished work and remember to mention it’s for Rei’s ‘Happy Birthday Levi’ event! Remember to also use my event tag #rei’s event: happy birthday Levi 2022!

Thank you for the support, and let’s all celebrate Levi’s birthday together again this year ❤

The master list for this event can be found here!

D-30 | 25 November // @levi-supreme // selfship fic (Levi x Rei) // posting on @reikoackerman

D-29 | 26 November // @postwarlevi // fic (Levi x fem!reader feat. 104th cadets)

D-28 | 27 November // @levi-supreme // drabble (Levi x gender neutral!reader)

D-27 | 28 November // @levi-supreme // selfship art (Levi and Rei)

D-26 | 29 November // @postwarlevi // fic (Levi x gender neutral!reader)

D-25 | 30 November // @youre-ackermine // drabble (Levi x fem!Hange)

D-24 | 01 December // @sparkywrites25 // fic (Levi x Petra)

D-23 | 02 December // @levi-supreme // moodboard (statistics professor Levi)

D-22 | 03 December // @levi-supreme // selfship post (Levi and I's four kids) // posting on @reikoackerman

D-21 | 04 December// @barbossa2319 // drabble (Levi x gender neutral!reader)

D-20 | 05 December // @jayteacups // fic (Levi x gender neutral!reader)

D-19 | 06 December // @postwarlevi // fic (Levi x fem!reader)

D-18 | 07 December // @levi-supreme // drabble (Levi x gender neutral!reader)

D-17 | 08 December // @postwarlevi // fic (Levi x fem!reader feat. 104th cadets)

D-16 | 09 December // @barbossa2319 // drabble (Levi x gender neutral!reader)

D-15 | 10 December // @sparkywrites25 // fic (fem!Levi x Petra)

D-14 | 11 December // @levi-supreme // fic (Levi x fem!reader)

D-13 | 12 December // @mootheskinnycowsblog // fic (Levi x fem!reader)

D-12 | 13 December // @we-are-so-close // fic (Levi x reader)

D-11 | 14 December // @jayteacups // drabble (Levi x gender neutral!reader)

D-10 | 15 December // @jayteacups // drabble (Levi x fem!reader)

D-9 | 16 December // @sparkywrites25 // fic (Levi x fem!reader)

D-8 | 17 December // @nelapanela94 // fic (Levi x fem!reader)

D-7 | 18 December // @ack3rlady // art (Levi)

D-6 | 19 December // @youre-ackermine // moodboard (Levi)

D-5 | 20 December // @barbossa2319 // fic (Levi x fem!reader)

D-4 | 21 December // @nneuwiller // fic (Levi x Mikasa)

D-3 | 22 December // @mootheskinnycowsblog // art (Levi)

D-2 | 23 December // @starstruckkittensweets // fic (Levi x fem!OC)

D-1 | 24 December // @sparkywrites25 // fic (Levi x fem!reader)

D-day | 25 December // @levi-supreme // selfship fic (Levi x Rei feat. our four kids) // posting on @reikoackerman

[sharkbait77]

I’m Your One and Only (Frankie Morales x gn!Reader)

Rating: M

Warnings: Breakup, heartache, allusions to PTSD, angst, mention of le seggs, lmk if I missed any pls

W/C: 1k

A/N: I guess I felt like being in pain today! This is probably shit, but I got inspired by the song "I Told You So" by Randy Travis. That damn heartbreaking country song & I don't even like country all that much. Title taken from song.

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @barbossa2319 @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @ezrasbirdie @danniburgh @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @meesterblack @amandalovess @hunterofartem1s @pedro4ever @mishasminion360

He should call.

No. He shouldn't.

Did you want him to?

No. Don't call.

He's the one that broke it off with you. He thought he was doing you a favor. You were spending too many days and nights trying to fix him. When he had his nightmares, you knew not to touch him and to let it pass on its own. When he would gain consciousness, he would hear the gentle, tired lilt of your voice pulling him back to reality. To you.

He saw the bags and dark circles form under your eyes through the weeks, saw the eye cream that you've never needed before hidden in the drawer. You knew you weren't getting enough sleep. Knew how tiring it was being with him. Why didn't you just break up with him instead?

He wants to talk to you. Tell you he was stupid. That the only reason his nightmares started fading was because of you. Because you loved him enough to stay with him, even through the hellish nights. Do you still love him?

He wants to go home. To your little one bedroom apartment that you shared, where the lights would go out whenever the winds were too strong. You loved when it happened; loved building forts and using flashlights to cast indiscernible shadow puppets on the sheet hanging above your heads. You loved making love in the middle of the floor, tender and slow and sweet, pouring every last drop of affection you had right into his mouth. Laughing and talking in the afterglow.

He should call. What would you tell him? Probably exactly what he's already been telling himself. That he shouldn't have let you go and he was stupid for breaking up with you when all you were trying to do was help him. Save him. Love him.

Were you seeing someone new already? Of course you were; how can anyone pass up the opportunity to be with you? Someone else is probably greedily soaking in the beauty of you. They probably treat you great, he hopes, but can they love you as deeply as him? Hold you as tight as he did when it was your turn to break down?

He broke your heart that day. He saw it shatter in your glassy, red eyes as you begged him for a good enough reason. All he could give you was that you 'just weren't compatible together'. Which was so far from the truth; if possible, he thought you were his soulmate. Still thinks so, but he felt unworthy of you. The pureness of you. He was a chain around your ankles and you needed to be free to grow.

He can hear you say it. 'I told you so'. He wonders if you could ever be cruel to him. If you had the ability to direct that to him. Do you hate him now? He wouldn't blame you if you did, and a part of him wishes you do so he could be at ease knowing you weren't in pain, that he could carry the brunt of it. As long as you weren't hurting. He wonders if you've been waiting for him to call.

Should he call?

No.

You call him.

You ask him how he's doing, how the nights have been. Not in an insensitive way, though. He can hear the love and care in your voice, but he doesn't catch the slight tremble lying underneath, hiding the sob you want to release.

You ask to see him, under the guise that he needs to pick up some things he left behind, but in reality, you need to physically see him and make sure he's doing fine, like he claims he is. You can hear in his voice that he isn't. You've always been able to read him.

When he comes over, his shoulders are drooping, his back hunched over slightly, the bill of his ball cap hiding his eyes from your gaze, but he has a small smile on his face, no meaning behind it. He's trying to make it look like he's okay.

You ask him to come inside and he takes one step forward, letting the door close before standing right in front of it, not wanting to invade your space. It still feels like home, like you, but he doesn't belong here anymore. He can't look at you; he knows if he does, he'll just fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness. Beg for you to take him back. But you would probably just laugh in his face.

You ask him to sit, bring him some water and ask if he's hungry. You know he always is. You still love him, still want to take care of him, even if he doesn't want you anymore. He declines any refreshments, his voice low and raspy. He's twitching in his seat like he's ready to jump up and run out at any moment.

"Frankie?"

The frailty in your voice is what finally makes him look at you. Your eyes are even darker now than when you were together. You looked as broken as he felt. The tears that were welling in your eyes were enough for his to form their own, teetering dangerously close to his lower lash lines.

"Why?"

If possible, his heart shatters even more as he watches you, crying as you ask him that one worded question, desperation thick in your plea. His tears fall now onto his denim jeans, making the fabric darken where they pool in his lap. It's the final plunge of the knife in his beaten chest. Why?

"I… I don't know. I don't know."

It's all he manages to say before the sobs plow through his body and you're reaching for him, knocking the ball cap off his stupid head. You knew why he did it, you knew he was only trying to protect you. You understood, but he didn't need to do this alone.

Not alone. Never alone.

He falls into your arms, his face buried into your warm chest as you whisper those words into his curly, brown hair, both of you a messy pile of sobs and sniffles. He feels like home to you. It feels like it'll be alright again. The shuddering cries of relief you release tell him that you missed him too. You were waiting for him. You wanted him home. You want him.

[sharkbait77]

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter One: The Season Begins

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Despondency, depressive undertones, death of a parent, grief, unsolicited advances, age old sexism, strained parent relationship, nosy neighbors, food, lmk if I missed any pls!

W/C: 3.2k

A/N: And here we go! The first chapter! Welcome & thank you for tuning in, it means the world, truly! As I mentioned before, this story may not be the best for some, so please heed the warnings & proceed with caution. The sadness will not consistently be in each chapter, that much I promise, but we have to get through it right away so we can understand our dear Reader’s mindset as of right now. NO EZRA YET, SORRY! And like I said before, this is probably not totally historically accurate, so take everything with a grain of salt pleeease. Other than that, enjoy!

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @barbossa2319 @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @ezrasbirdie @danniburgh @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @meesterblack @amandalovess @hunterofartem1s @pedro4ever @mishasminion360

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Chapter Two

~APRIL FIFTEENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Your eyes flutter open on instinct as the sun rises against the pale blue of the sky, its ochre rays peering from behind the grassy hills and across the wheat fields while waking the birds. They start their day with a song, shaking their feathers and stretching their wings as they merrily fly through the air in search of their morning meal. The hens that found solace in their coops from the stark chill of night chatter amongst themselves as they roam around their pen and the lone rooster releases its shrill call, a signal for the day to begin. Beat you again, you think.

The sun rises a little higher now, the bright of day in full effect as it fills your room with its intense luminosity. You lie in bed a moment longer, watching the dust mites float through the air and dance in front of your nose with each exhale of breath you release. Signs of life all around you, from the dew drops that formed on your window in the early morning to the muscles within your very skin twitching as you climb out of bed. Every little thing teasing and taunting you of significance, of meaning just on the horizon, yet so far out of your reach.

This is your life. Each and every morning, day, and night is as repetitive as the last. Wake up before the rooster crows and stare into the minute cracks rippling through the ceiling, envious of the pollen that manages to escape through and longing for you to shrink microscopic enough to hide away as well. Fill your basin with cold water you had gathered the night before to wash yourself quickly before your father wakes. Clothe yourself in your underdress, long sleeved, blue work dress layered on top with the sleeves rolled up, an apron cinched at your waist, and dirty and worn, black boots laced up tight enough to prevent you from minding the ache they feel as the day progresses.

You look at your reflection in the hazy mirror as you braid your hair; the drabness of the glass only accentuates exactly how you perceive yourself. The girl staring back at you was but a shell of the one you knew before. Before, when you still had ambitions that would have led you far from this town. To a place you could live anew. Now, just an empty being as one day fades into the next. Eyes that no longer gleam, hair that no longer shines, skin that no longer glows.

You had given up long ago of any hope and dream of something more, surrendering to the bleakness and repetitiveness of this life when your mother passed. A promise on her death bed to help care for your father any way he needs. And this is what he needs. You, here on the farm, helping tend to the chickens and the cows and the small shop he owned in town. The one your mother ran that was unceremoniously thrust onto your lap. The organ within your chest beats solely to pump the blood through your veins and keep you breathing, if only for the promise you made to your mother.

You fasten the gold chain around your neck, a locket with a faded photograph of your mother hidden within hanging to your breast. You tuck it into your blouse to keep her close to your heart and head down the ladder, stepping lightly as to not awaken Pa any earlier than necessary. Your Pa, an old man now with hair white as snow, only having turned the shade since Ma left.

Wrinkles crease deeper into his skin and the bags under his eyes droop slightly to his cheeks now on his once chiseled face. His strength has dwindled within the last year, and with no other siblings to share the burden of the farm, you knew you could not leave your Pa to deal with it by himself. So your own dreams and goals were swiftly thrown into the dirt to be rained on and turned to mush, impossible to be picked up again.

As you finish grounding the coffee beans and throw them into the pot of already boiling water resting on the range, Pa begins to stir and soon after wakes up, the aroma of caffeine acting as his own signal to wake. Leaving the house to give your father privacy to dress, you head to the hen coop to gather a few eggs for breakfast.

You take a deep breath of the crisp morning air, the smell of apple trees at the front of the house, then the smell of grass with fresh dew, to the smell of hay and chicken feed as you get closer to the pen they are corralled in. As you head back into the house, Pa is already seated at the small, round table with his tin of coffee.

“Good morning, Pa,” you greet softly.

“Good morning daughter. Thank you for the coffee.”

“Grace to our health, Pa,” you say, as you always do when he gives you his thanks.

Financially, you and Pa were well off enough; you still couldn’t afford luxuries like sugar, but you were able to live comfortably with only the necessities and the occasional new pair of boots. You were grateful to have the farm and the shop, both reliable sources of income for your small family, and you were blessed that Pa was still able to work the fields, but you know as time passes and his joints weaken, you would then need to take over the labor. There was truly no path for you to leave this life.

The older women around town had begun to whisper about you, not necessarily trying to keep their gossip from reaching your ears. They were just as bad as the hens that cluck around their pen all day. A never ending chatter of you being stuck in the house or the farm or the shop, working as an old maid for the rest of your life.

You’re still fairly young, just over two decades of life in you; sure, the girls you once played in the streams with as children were all married women now and on their third, fourth, fifth child, but you didn’t feel the desire to find a husband just to bend to the simple mold of life this society has cast. If you were to still have any control of your life, it would, at the least, be that.

You crack the eggs into the beaten and tired pan over the range, letting them cook to completion before removing and plating them, along with a roll of bread and the butter you had just churned the day prior. You walk over to Pa and place his portion down before working on your own. Pa sends up a quick prayer and starts to eat. His prayers turned to letters to Ma, but he never failed to speak them before every meal or before bed, sometimes even when a sudden abundance of eggs were laid or vegetables had sprouted during the night.

“The season is nigh for corn and potatoes,” Pa mumbles and you feel your heart sink to your feet.

You had forgotten about the season, when Ma and Pa would work the fields together endlessly, sweating through their work attire to be washed every evening. You still feel the creak in your elbows to this day. It is the busiest season, bringing in the most coinage for the year, but now that it was only you two, you worry about juggling between the shop and the farm.

“Pa, how will we manage?” You voice your concern. Pa takes a deep breath.

“You will hang a notice in the shop when you go today,” he says matter of factly. “Ask Mr. Williams if you are able to hang one on his window at the post as well.”

“And what shall it say?”

“‘Seasonal laborer wanted – will provide lodging with pay’.”

“Where will he stay?” You inquire.

“The barn; we will provide him blankets and he will be free to use our wash basins when needed and we will offer him meals.”

“It will be a lot of money expended, Pa; will we be all right?” You ask as you sit at the table with your plate and coffee tin.

“We will make do, daughter,” he says, the finality in his voice signaling for this conversation to cease. “We will not be able to pay handsomely or feed him much, but we require the extra hand if we are to pass the season.”

“Yes, Pa.”

You lower your head and eat your eggs in silence. You don’t pray anymore, not necessarily feeling the need since your Ma was taken, as well as your aspirations. Pa finishes his coffee, leaving the dishes in the wash basin and grabbing his hat, walking outside into the fields to begin preparations for the season. You sigh; the tears that have long hidden in your ducts refuse to spill out to bless you with relief.

The last time you properly cried was for Ma; every day you feel them there, the pressure building in the corners of your eyes, but nothing ever falls. A mind trick, you suppose, to force you to focus on the more important things. You don’t have the time to spare to release them; your mind and body are now slaves to the farm and the shop.

After your breakfast, you walk to the wash basin with your dishes, hand pumping the water from the pipe just off the side and using the homemade lye soap you learned to make from your mother. Once the dishes are washed, dried, and put away, you walk over to the black safe in the corner of the room, turning the dial to its correct numbers and pulling out the metal lockbox from the inside.

It carried within it the sales ledger for the shop and the velvet bag for the coins. Pa empties the bag every day as he looks over the ledger, placing the coins into another metal box that only he has the key to. He gives you coin anytime you ask, as long as it is needed for the shop or food for the house and, occasionally, on special days.

You pick it up and take it with you to the front door, pulling your bonnet and fabric bag from the hook they hung on. You stick the lockbox inside your bag, as well as the key assigned to it, and head outside. Pa is already far into the fields, hacking away at the dirt and smoothing it out for the new growth. You don’t bother saying goodbye; he knows where you’ll be. Where you’ll always be.

Living alone with Pa became quite challenging, you were disheartened to learn. You’ve always had a loving bond with him since you were a child; maybe he expected the same from you as he did from Ma, but he still managed to make his lessons on the farm enjoyable, doting upon you as any loving father would. Now? The anguish you both have felt since losing the feathery soft and caring love of your mother strained the relationship between you two.

What was once a thick belt of leather that connected you now pulled further and further apart until it became as frail as rubber, threatening to snap at a moment’s notice. You love your Pa; of course you do, and you know he loves you too. If only you could grieve together.

Upon entering the town, the people are going about their normal routines. The baker stacking the fresh loaves of bread in his window, the shoe shiners along the streets working tediously on men’s boots, the hens clucking – the older women gossiping away passionately about whomever they desire. As long as it isn’t you today.

You reach the shop, key in hand as you unlock the brass keyhole and turn the knob, the small bell dinging above you as you enter. You flip the sign in the window from the side that reads ‘Closed’ to the side that reads ‘Open’ and you pull back the shut curtains, allowing the light of day to flow into the small room.

Heading back to behind the counter, you remove the lockbox from your bag and set it on the shelf underneath in its usual resting place. You barely have a moment to remove your bonnet when the bell dings and you look up to greet the person who has walked in. Wonderful.

“Hello, my sweet,” the man husks and you find it difficult to choke back the bile rising in your throat.

“Hello Silas,” you say flatly. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“Darlin’, you know exactly how you may be of service to me.”

Silas Taylor, a boorish man of thirty-eight years, has desperately been attempting to attract your affection for the past two years. He had the decency to respect you and Pa after your mother passed, halting his advances for all of one week. Considering his age, he did not show any signs of maturing, both in his looks and his brain. One might even label him handsome, were he not such a crude and overbearing personality.

Ma and Pa had bid you to consider his proposal, but in time came to understand he was not the best man you could have as a husband. Pa despises Silas, has even told him so to his face, yet it did not cause Silas to stray from pursuing you. Disrespectful, despicable, a generally awful person, Silas is.

Why he had you locked on to his sights, you weren’t sure. You never gave him the opportunity to court; staying cordial as to not make an outright enemy of him, yes, but never once have you made it apparent you enjoyed his attention. Nevertheless, he continued.

“Silas, please. I must ask you to leave my shop if you are not interested in a purchase,” you implore, hoping he will understand your position and take his leave.

“But, little one, I am very interested in a purchase. What must I do to make you my wife?” He grins, as charming as the manure out in the fields. In a flash, your vision goes red as you replay his statement in your mind.

“I am not for sale, Silas. That is the most offensive remark you have said to me yet,” you declare harshly, the acidic bile in your stomach turning into a burning rage.

“There must be something that can be done, my sweet. You name it; the most lavish jewels and dresses your pretty, little mind can dream of,” he presses on with a smile only found on masks to scare the children with.

‘Pretty’ and ‘little’, amongst his unwelcome endearments, are the words to send your mind into a downward spiral to declarations that you’d rather not say unless you were alone, lest he take offense and decide to wreak havoc on you and Pa. You put your foot down and grab his arm roughly, pulling him with you to the front door. He only laughs at the scene unfolding, rather pleased with himself that he’s ruffled your feathers so.

“Silas, I am no longer asking. Please leave,” you say as plainly as you can, doing your best to keep the tremble of anger out of your voice.

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles satirically. “Until our next meeting, my love.”

He pulls your hand to his lips, his strength surpassing yours and his thick, wiry mustache rubs harshly against the tender skin of your hand. You furl your lip and flare your nostrils, unable to contain the look of disgust on your face as he glares at you perversely with his black eyes. You tug your hand away and the bristly hair under his villainous nose scrapes you with the motion.

You stand with your jaw clenched and hands balled up in tight fists at your sides, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palm as you watch him walk away, leaving puffs of dirt trailing behind with each cocksure step he takes. If you were to only be allowed one person to despise in your lifetime, it would be Silas Taylor.

“Dear, are you well?”

A gentle, aged voice calls out to you from behind. You whip around quickly, your skirts twirling as you face the elderly woman that has hailed you.

“Mrs. Williams,” you greet, willing your fury from the unpleasant interaction to rest for the time being.

“Was that Silas Taylor you were speaking with?” She asks.

“Yes,” you exhale. “Yes, it was.”

“He’s a quite handsome lad, dear. It is known all over town how you have bewitched him. Why do you not accept his proposal?”

Adelaide Williams; the sweetest among the hens, but still a hen nonetheless. You sigh deeply to yourself, deciding not to engage in the conversation with the one woman who treats you with any shred of respect and kindness, even if her ideals still match those with the others in town.

“Mrs. Williams, while I have you in my presence, may I ask a favor?” You appeal.

“Why, of course, my dear!” She smiles, all thoughts of your personal affairs exiting her imagination.

“Do you suppose it would be alright to leave a notice at the post office? We are asking for help on the farm for the season.”

“Yes, dear, it’s quite alright,” she smiles, her wrinkly skin creasing along her cheeks and eyes.

“Thank you; will you wait a moment while I draft it?”

She nods and follows you inside the shop, slow in her old age. You quickly grab a sheet of paper and a fountain pen, inscribing the words your Pa informed you to write in large enough letters.

“I imagine this season will be most difficult without your mother. I am so very sorry, dear,” Mrs. Williams says as you write and your hand quakes slightly at her comment. “How have you and your father been managing?” Cluck, cluck, cluck.

“Not without difficulty, Mrs. Williams, but we manage nonetheless,” you say courteously, not wanting to relay any information that could be the next piece of news to travel through the grapevine. You finish the notice and hand it to her.

“Shall I direct him here or to the farm?” She inquires as she reads the note, perhaps looking for anything contradicting what you already stated would be written.

“The farm, more suitably, so he can speak directly to my father,” you reply. “Many thanks to you and Mr. Williams,” you end with a sweet smile.

“No thanks are required, my dear. Anything to help you and your father. Your mother was a wonderful being. I was proud to have known her.”

Another quake. You nod politely, letting her hold your forearm as you walk to the front door. The bell dings as it opens and you watch her while she walks down the wooden pathway to the post office. Once you’re sure she’s well on her way, you turn back inside and draft another notice for the shop window before you begin arranging the merchandise for the day, taking inventory of goods that are depleting, and checking order forms belonging to families around town for produce off your farm.

A most provincial and forlorn life, indeed, that you will have to bear until the end of your time here on Earth.

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Chapter Two