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bokutoslittlebird · 4 years ago

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Awakened

Alpha!Osamu x reader x Alpha!Atsumu

Author’s note : Fantasy AU based on two pieces of fan art of the twins as fox yōkai, but I hope it’s to your liking! ; their names are never directly said to reader-chan, so their names are what they call each other.

Warnings: bullying (brief, not from the twins), naive and innocent reader, knotting, double penetration, backshot, face fucking/blowjob, dubcon/noncon, blood, biting and licking, cunnilingus, creampie

There’s a legend that runs deep in the roots of your village, one that’s told to many and encourages children to stay away from the forest. It was proven effective — no child dared to enter the forest, holding onto that fear into their adult years. The legend revolves around two mischievous fox spirits that would always be in competition. They always had someone who would win, but then a terribly evil spirit came upon the clearing they played in, forcing the two spirits to push differences aside and fight off the evil spirit that entered the territory. It was a combined effort, the two spirits realizing they worked better when they worked together. It taught children that sometimes it was better to ask for help; however, it also taught children that they couldn’t go into the forest. The spirits resides in the forest, protecting the village from evil spirits as a combined task and if anyone dared trespass in their forest, then destruction would come to the village.

It was a legend some teenagers dared to challenge, entering the forest and coming out, saying “nothing bad happened to them!” but then their luck would turn sour sometimes. It always put things in perspective, seeing them suddenly fall into a mud puddle after entering the forest, or having their pants suddenly fall. It made people laugh, but it really made you feel like the forest was alive and watching. You never dared to go near the forest. At least, not until your pride was at stake.

“Go get a stupid stick, [Y/N]!” Jocelyn sneered, her eyes narrowed. Her arms were crossed and she was tired to repeating herself. You were dared to go into the forest, get a stick to bring back for proof, and you would no longer be a coward. It was simple in words, but not so simple in action. You feared the bad things that happened after people entered the forest, but you were considered a coward for those beliefs. “You’re just a big, dumb baby!”

“No I’m not!” You shouted back, puffing your cheeks. You let out a heavy breath and turned to the brown and green image of the forest. They wouldn’t be able to see you enter the forest, but they just needed a stick as proof. Sucking up the courage to go, your legs moved towards the foliage. You could hear the other girls’ jeers as your pace slowed, the forest closer than you had ever dared to let it. The forest itself looked peaceful, but the legend of the spirits scared you, halting your footsteps. Instead of going in, you were going to pick up a stick on the outskirts, but there was no stick. Nothing but grass lay before you, the shadows of the trees outlining what was the forest and what was not. There was a stick you could see, the light seeping through the leaves illuminating it as if you were on a quest to get — well, you kind of were.

Sucking up any inhibitions you had, you entered the forest. Picking up the stick, you noticed a lack of any other stick lying in the fallen leaves. Clutching the stick to your chest, you turn to go when you find a small piece of cloth, hidden in the leaves. You pick it up, looking at the designs and feeling how soft and silky it was. It was a robe that your ancestors adorned, but the fabric told you it was either brand new or kept in pristine condition. With it in your hands, you found yourself turning to flee once again. The howling of the wind sent your legs running out of the forest and up the hill, as fast as you could. If you had listened closer, you would have heard the howl of a beast as you fled.

Deeper into the forest, a pair of eyes watched as you obtained the stick and plucked the ceremonial robe from the earth he presented to you. When you chose it and fled, he smiled. His eyes turned from your retreating figure and moved to leap from the tree he perched himself on. As his body was that of a grey fox, he was much better at hiding than if he was in his more human form. Transitioning between into his human form, he smiles once more, a finger on his chin.

“What to offer her next, I wonder?” He ponders aloud, with only the wind around to hear him and carry his voice.

Your lungs are burning as you arrive back at the little picnic you were attending, the girls giggling as you finally come back. “Did ya see a ghost or somethin’?” Akira asks. You’re heaving as you present the stick, perfectly in tact and big enough to feed a fire. Everyone’s cheers are perceived as mocking to you, as you move on. The picnic is no longer something you want to attend, instead preferring to take a bath and sleep. With your worries placed on the forest and the spirits within, you find yourself wondering if you’ll be able to sleep or shall an entity come and judge you for trespassing.

The next day, you find your gaze drawn to the forest, as if it calls you down. Ignoring the calls are hard, you legs involuntarily moving as you think. On the edge of the forest, you see inside to find a small temari ball. It looks as if a young child once played with it, as you get closer to the object. Looking around the forest, you expect to see a child lost or crying, but you find nothing. With the lack of an owner, you decide to leave the ball. Turning to leave, you reprimand yourself for entering the forest again.

The sound of leaves rustling has you swiveling around, almost falling over when you realize the temari is following you. Moving back, it continues to follow you. A quick glance around proves that no one else is around, so you pick up the temari. As you did yesterday, you flew out of the forest and hope you didn’t take a malevolent being’s toy.

Another pair of eyes watch as you flee, his temari offering close to your chest. A wickedly mischievous grin spreads upon his lips, his form emerging from the shadows where he was hidden. With sharp canines peeking from his smile, warm brown eyes look to the path you had just taken. “I’m glad she likes her present. I can’t wait for what tomorrow will bring,” he chuckles, moving further into the forest. With each step he takes, a thick fog permeates the forest floor, providing a barrier past the stream.

You don’t know what it is. The growing urge to enter the forest gets stronger as the day continues on, the urge barely quenched upon nightfall. Even in your bed chambers, you find yourself looking through your open window, into the forest. Mist seeps from the greenery, an ominous feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. A howl from the forest startles you, eyes finding the gaze reflecting back at you. As you hold the gaze, feeling yourself rooted in place, another set of eyes joins. You shut the window, deciding to never go back to the forest.

When morning comes, the feeling of needing to go to the forest is even stronger. Feeling ill from the image of last night, you decide to stay home for the day. When a knock comes to your door, you assume it to be the milk delivery. Upon opening the door, your eyes widen at the two boys on your doorstep.

“Can you go get my ball?” The first one says, a bright smile on his face. The one currently sniffling nods in agreement. They look like twins, not that you’d recognize them.

“I didn’t mean to kick it so hard, please don’t tell my dad!” He cries out, holding onto his brother. You smile warmly at him, getting to eye level. Running your hand through his hair, his sniffles lessen.

“I won’t tell anyone, you’re fine. I’ll be right back,” you smile at him, wiping his tears. You shut the door, telling them to stay put as you go searching for the ball. As you look around, you become confused. Where is the ball? Moving further along your backyard, you hear a hushed whisper from the forest, wide eyes turning to sound. With an apology already on your lips, you turn to enter your house when you find yourself unable to move. As if an invisible barrier prevents you from progressing towards your house — which seems proven true as you inch towards the forest and suddenly cannot go back to where you were. With the unsettling pit in your stomach, you enter the forest once more.

Entering, you find the mist from before still evident, yet it parts for you. Curiosity sets in as you are further urged into the forest, stopping as you hear water trickling. A stream lays in front of you, waters more calm than your heart beat. You inhale, deciding to risk it as you wade through the stream. The water seeps into your shoes, the bottom of your dress becoming saturated. Progressing further into the mist, now a heavy fog, you find a large temple inside. It’s stable and perfectly standing, as if it isn’t centuries old. The two erected statues tell you the temple belongs to the spirits of the legend, finding a chill run through your blood as you realize your situation. Before you step foot onto the stairs, you turn to leave but are halted.

“Where do you think yer goin’?” A rough voice speaks. You whip around to see a tall, but handsome man. The hair is a dark grey color, eyes to match. What stuns you is the pair of grey fox ears, a tail that matches in color swishing behind him. His clothes remind you of the robe you found amongst the leaves.

“I-I’m terribly sorry, really!” You begin to plea, pulling on your wrist. “I-I didn’t mean to- to trespass!”

“What’d’ya mean? This is your home, y’know?” He seems genuinely confused, another stun to your body as his words settle. Home? This temple? Before you can refute him, another voice joins in.

“Ah, ‘Samu, I told ya humans are different. They don’t know the offering ritual, but I made sure to get our offerings. Our silly little human forgot about them,” he chuckles, looking at you. With the robe you found on one arm, the temari in his hand. “This was my offering, you know,” he gestures to the ball. “A precious item to me, it is. I’m glad you took care of it and cleaned it up. What a perfect little wife you’ll make,” his grin makes his words more sinister than they originally were. Fear spikes through your veins, your limbs suddenly shaking as you feel your legs give out. The one dubbed ‘Samu catches you, holding you bridal style as you find yourself hesitant to hold onto his robes.

“‘Tsumu, y’know I’m not watching humans like you do. That’s weird,” he cringes, nose scrunching up in disgust. ‘Tsumu seemed to get ticked off at that, growling. Only then did you notice how animal-like the both of them were, sporting fox ears and a tail to match. While ‘Samu had dark grey, ‘Tsumu spotted a saturated yellow hair color and slightly lighter ears and tail. So caught up in the view, you didn’t notice that the brothers has started walking, heading towards the temple.

“W-Wait, I can’t go with you! I’m— I’m not who you’re looking for!” Sputtering out the first things to pop into your mind, the two don’t stop.

“Of course yer who we’re looking for! You’re meant for us, meant to know your place with us. After all, why else would enter our domain, smelling so delicious as you do?”

“Smell— what?”

“‘Tsumu, stop bein’ cryptic. He’s saying you entered the forest during your heat cycle,”

“Well, ovulation in humans. Apparently, they’re not like us special spirits,”

“You’re ready for us, we can smell it. You’ll be the perfect mate for us to breed,” although ‘Samu seemed uninterested, you could feel how his chest seemed to heave as he inhaled deeply. The growling accompanying his final word sent slick between your folds as you held onto him close, afraid of falling.

Arriving at the top of the temple, you saw a cot that has been lain out, the soft cushioning big enough for the three of you. The sight of it had your brain going into overdrive, panicking as you attempted to leave ‘Samu’s arms. He complied, but his hands stayed firmly on your hips. “Time to get dressed,”

Before you could ask for an explanation, your clothes were practically torn off of you. Blood spilled onto your ripped dress, your side burning from where the claws caught you. The shreds fell to the temple floor, your hands flying to cover the exposed skin. While one hand covered the area between your legs, your arm held your breasts close to your chest. ‘Samu clicked his tongue, easily removing your hands from your body while ‘Tsumu slid on the robe, his claws lightly grazing your skin. He didn’t hide the fact he was admiring the view, either, his dark eyes gazing over each inch of skin you presented to him. Once the robe was on, you were released from ‘Samu’s hold, left to cover yourself up with the fabric. You’d deny it aloud, but the robe fit you perfectly.

“You’re gorgeous,” ‘Tsumu growled, shedding his own robe. Your hands came in front of you, hoping to somehow deter him when ‘Samu brought you backwards, to the cot presented. ‘Tsumu wasn’t far behind, dropping to his knees while you lay against the cot. It was softer than expected, more plush than it looks. ‘Samu had stripped of his own clothes, his robe hanging loosely on him by the ribbon around his waist. ‘Tsumu was different, his robe open and letting you see every inch of skin, but his arms still through the sleeves as if he was cold.

“I don’t—“ you began, your words interrupted by ‘Samu’s lips on yours, his tongue brushing against your closed lips as he deepened the kiss. ‘Tsumu’s touches had begun to litter your thighs, spreading your legs as he inhaled deeply. A finger touching your entrance had you jumping, only to be held firmly down by ‘Samu’s hands.

“You’re so wet, it’s hard to hold back,” ‘Tsumu growls out, his tongue lapping at your folds. You squirm and make a noise of displeasure, but ‘Samu is there to keep your focus on his lips and kisses. The more he kisses you, the hotter your body gets and the more you feel your resistance melt away. ‘Tsumu has his face between your thighs, licking and sucking on your clit, claws digging into the skin. It has you clenching around nothing, the hot pleasure from his tongue and burning sensation on your thighs. It isn’t until he removes himself from between your legs do you feel relaxed and at ease, as if your body is jelly. Your resistance is no more, a small whine coming from you when ‘Samu and ‘Tsumu remove themselves to admire their handiwork.

It’s a sudden change, the relaxing touches and breathless kisses are gone, replaced by the feverish touches of both men as they paw and scratch at your skin, ‘Samu’s teeth sinking into hot skin and lapping at the blood while ‘Tsumu presses less destructive kisses to your neck. With the air much too hot for your liking, a breathless moan leaves your lips when ‘Tsumu pulls your head back by your hair, spitting into your mouth and then kissing you. With his tongue tracing your teeth and his growls being swallowed up by your mouth, you’re oblivious to ‘Samu. With his cock in one hand, he kneads your thigh with his other hand as he rubs along your folds.

“‘Tsumu, move off,” ‘Samu growls, pushing the fox spirit off of you, his large frame colliding with the wooden planks of the temple. You find yourself on your hands and knees, ass in the air while the robe is promptly stripped off of you, lain underneath you. ‘Samu licks his lips, lining himself up with you entrance while ‘Tsumu gets his balance back. The first press in has you screaming, but it isn’t just because he’s big. His thickness is something you never expected, but with his calloused hands on your hips, bringing you back into his hips with no regards to adjusting you. A guttural groan comes from ‘Samu, head thrown back as he basks in the pleasure of being buried in your cunt. ‘Tsumu is now back to you, his hard cock in front of your face.

With another rough thrust, one that has you practically bouncing off ‘Samu’s cock, ‘Tsumu has you wrapping your lips around his. You can’t take it all in, that’d be impossible. With a pair of hands on your hips, you’re brought to ‘Samu while the pair of hands tangled in your hair pulls you towards ‘Tsumu. Lips pressed firmly against ‘Tsumu’s cock as your tongue runs under the length, running over the bulging veins and ridges you find. Your eyes are screwed shut, unable to stay open while ‘Samu splits you on his cock, somehow forcing himself deeper and deeper inside of you. It isn’t until you’re finally bouncing flush against him do you feel something strange on his cock. It’s only then do you open your eyes, looking at ‘Tsumu’s cock that has a large bulb at the base of it, growing in size the more you suck on him. Hollowing out you cheeks has ‘Tsumu groaning, claws digging into your scalp as he forces himself down your throat. He doesn’t force the bulb in your throat, thankfully, but he does coat your throat in his cum.

“Your mouth is fucking hot, little human. It’s like you were made to take us,” he breathes out, panting. You’re coughing, feeling Samu’s thrusts speed up as he brings you close to him, but he pulls out at the last moment to spill all over your back.

“With our scent on you, you’ll be stuck by our side until you pass,” ‘Samu is in a similar situation, chest heaving as you’re flipped over. You’re then placed on ‘Tsumu’s lap, his cock rubbing between your folds as he grinds into you. “But we’ll take you together first,”

“So no hard feelings, right ‘Samu?”

“Right, ‘Tsumu,” the agree, Tsumu’s cock rubbing into you and then prodding at your drooling cunt. He slips the tip in, the feeling similar to ‘Samu’s thick cock. Speaking of ‘Samu, he’s quick to stick his own tip back in, stretching you out farther then you expected. A silent scream comes from you as tears spill down your cheeks, both of them thrusting into you as your cunt burns.

Split open on their cocks, you’re helpless. Nails digging into ‘Samu’s shoulders as his hands once more find themselves on your hips. ‘Tsumu’s hands are keeping your legs spread, the view of you sucking in both their cocks on display as they thrusts in tandem. When one pulls out, the other thrusts in and vice versa. The rhythm they set is one that works, their lips finding opposite sides on your neck to kiss and lick, teeth grazing the skin. You feel a buildup of your own orgasm as they plow into you, your walls squeezing them as they pick up the pace. Their rhythm gets sloppy, short growls from each as their bulbs start to grow again.

When ‘Tsumu sinks his teeth into you, your scream is one of pleasure as you reach your high, coating both of their cocks a milky white cream, the liquid falling to their base and dripping down. ‘Samu sinks his teeth into your skin on the opposite side as they both push into your tight cunt, a scream and shiver running through you as the do, their bulbs inflating inside to stretch you even more.

You’re completely stuck, their cocks inside you as they lap at your wounds. It’s only when you squirm do they start talking. “You’ll get used to it,”

“After all we have a week,”

“You’ll be able to take our knots with no problem,”

“All your holes will be used to taking us,”

Their words don’t ease you concern, but the fact that once they leave your warm cunt, they’re still hard and readying you for round two. The heat encompassing your body refuses to leave, their skin as sweaty and hot as yours. With their relentless stamina and obsession with pumping all their seed into you, you’re positive you’ll get pregnant.

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pink-chevalier · 2 years ago

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Unlike her sisters, Cassia takes the time to unpack her things and fold them because she doesn't want to worry about it. There's also the fact that Cassia's not that excited to see Aspen. Jocelyn was the one sending her messages every day, commenting on the photos, and telling her that Aspen's been acting pretty weird since the vacation started. Let's be honest, Aspen was acting odd even before Cassia left; he didn't want to spend any time with them, and in the art club, he would be all bored. It was weird for Jocelyn and Cassia; they didn't know what to do with him, and it would get Cassia's blood boiling when she saw Aspen acting all friendly around Randell. She was going to confront Aspen about this when meeting them at the park, the three friends are supposed to get ice cream together, but Cassia only sees Jocelyn hanging out by the monkey bars.

Cassia: *smiles* I can't believe your mom let you dye your hair!

Jocelyn: *giggles* Correction! She let me bleach it. I wanted to do it because it makes me look more like dad, and I was right.

Cassia: I love it. Do you think Aspen’s going to show up?

Jocelyn: *sighs* I don't want to be mean or anything, but I don't think he's coming at all.

Cassia: Seriously?

Jocelyn: *nods* Yeah, we were supposed to hangout over the vacation, but Aspen would always cancel or say that he forgot, but then he'll be with Randell. That's why I was texting you so much! By the way, I'm sorry if I was annoying you.

Cassia: *shakes head* Nah, I didn't mind. But why didn't you tell me he was doing that?

Jocelyn: I didn't want to ruin your vacation, Cass. Besides, what were you going to do anyway? You're on a tropical island?

Cassia: *shrugs* I could've summoned a ghost with my dad to bully Aspen or something.

<<< >>>

#simblr #sims 4 #s4 #ts4 #ts4 legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #s4 legacy #S4 Legacy Challenge #s4 Knight Family #ts4 Knight Family #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 legacy challenge #sims 4 knight #Sims 4 Knight family

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years ago

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Oh my god! Please extend on the htgawm au or cast tsc characters as htgawm charcters.

I can already see Alastair as Connor, Thomas as Oliver, Grace as Michaela and obviously Charles as Aiden (even though he isn't that important, that conversation between Michaela and Connor is too iconic to not include him). Because of this, we will also get a Grace and Alastair dynamic which will be interesting to see.

I am kinda confused on the other characters. I can kind of see Maryse and Robert as Annalise and Sam, but then it makes Robert's canon development seem futile so I don't wanna do that. Also, now that I think about it, just because Maryse and Robert have the whole cheating arc, doesn't really make them similar to Annalise and Sam.

So, please help with the characters. You can choose characters from any timeline. It would be interesting to the character dynamic since characters from tmi and tda have never met characters from tid and tlh and Its interesting to imagine how they would get along and what their friendship would be like.

(P.S: I am sorry if I'm getting too excited, but htgawm is one of my all time favorite shows and tsc is one of my favorite book series, so I am getting very pumped up)

Okay this took me way too long to figure out cause htgatwm character dynamics are messy af. I couldn't put all the characters from different trilogies together. But how about this?

What if we make Annalise...Jocelyn?

The tmi gang kills 'Valentine/Sam' without knowing he is a piece of shit.

Clary can be Bonnie and Frank can be Sebastian (big ew - the plot needs to change but I feel like the dynamics work. The two of them being closest to Jocelyn/Annalise

Jace can be Asher. Checks out.

Izzy can be Laurel. Yes????

I would love to see Maia as Michaela. The power this two women hold oof.

Also, Luke is Nate!!! IT WORKS.

I think Magnus and Alec work perfectly as Connor and Oliver. They are both soft ships and must be protected at all costs. Also we know Magnus saves the gang's ass all the time just like Oliver.

why the fuck is this actually coming together imma stop now bye

Edit - just realised I forgot fucking Wes lmao. SIMON? I GUESS? CAUSE CANONICALLY DIES?

#tsc #tmi gang #tsc x htgawm #tsc prompts

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billyhargroveinaponytail · 3 years ago

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A Broken Boy and A Camaro: "We both know the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man got you all worked up."

"You're obviously not from here.." I glanced up from my cigarette to meet her eyes. There stood a dark haired girl which her eyes matched perfectly with. She dressed in dark colors and flannels, her jeans had spots of oil and grease displayed across them. High school in California every girl looked the same, they wore the least amount of clothes possible and always smelt like whatever gut wrenching perfume was trending at that time.

This girl was absolutely nothing like them, she wasn't dressed up to impress everyone, she wore what was comfortable and still looked absolutely gorgeous doing it. She stood very confident when talking to me and even the girls around her were blushing for her. Her hands stayed clutched around her crossbody strap and while I spent all this time staring and studying her, her eyes remained on my vehicle I stood leaned against.

"You'd be correct." I reached out my hand to shake hers, pulling my cigarette from my mouth and pushing the smoke towards the sky. "I'm Billy, my little sister and I just moved here." I repositioned myself on the car's trunk and glanced behind her at the girls huddled behind their friend. She even stood out from her friend group, they were all in white washed jeans and jeans jackets to match with brightly colored stripped shirts underneath, that the scrunchies holding up their hair matched.

"Well welcome to Hawkins, Billy. I'm Jo!" She shook my hand in return, moving her eyes right back to my vehicle staring down the wheels and across the bumper. The sound of the school bell ringing across the parking lot brought me from my daze.

"Nice to meet you, Jo. I'll see you around." I watched her walk inside the building her group trailing behind her. She stood tall over all of them and glanced back in my direction before disappearing from sight.

---------

"Do you understand what I am saying?" Neil, my father spoke to me in a harsh voice. He's always been tough on me, I often questioned if he even loved me by how harsh he spoke to me and how he treated me. My mom was always the sweet, loving one, she would be proud of me owning my own mechanic shop. I miss my mom a lot more than I talk about, my father treats her like she's dead but, I know she did what was best for herself by leaving my abusive father but I think she forgot about her damaged son and started a new life elsewhere.

"Yes, I hear you." I scoffed under my breath, shoving more food into my mouth. Susan always made large exquisite meals like every day was thanksgiving. There was usually only four of us eating but once in a while Jocelyn from next door would join us. She was very sweet, she made sure to compliment Susan on everything she made and thanked Neil repeatedly for allowing her to come over.

Max wasn't allowed many friends over but Neil and Jocelyn's dad got along so he trusted Jocelyn to be a good influence around Max. He was hoping she'd get Max into girly things and away from the gaming and skateboarding. Jocelyn wasn't much help though, I could hear them talking through the walls late at night and they spent hours talking about boys and playing video games.

"My sister's back home from college now, I think she dropped out or maybe they kicked her out. I'm not completely sure but she's back!" I focused in on what Jocelyn was saying, realizing it had a few years since I had seen Jo, I assumed she had married her boyfriend Travis by now, but I am curious how she's been.

"I'm sorry to hear that!" Susan spoke quietly, patting Jocelyn's thigh. "I'm sure it's just a bump in the road for her, your sister's very smart." Susan looked to Neil waiting for his response, but he continued to look at his plate picking at the last remaining crumbs.

After I finished eating I removed myself from the table and rinsed my plate in the sink. Jocelyn and Max handed over their plates and I rinsed theirs as well.

"How's your sister and her boyfriend, uh, Travis?" I questioned, acting like I had forget his name but in honesty I hadn't forgot him at all. Travis was a good guy he seemed to really like Jo but it was obvious he wasn't her type. Travis was introverted and kept to himself. It killed me to see them together, a fire grew in my stomach whenever they kissed.

We were a few months away from graduating and Travis had announced to us that him and Jo had started dating and it left me shocked I had never thought she would date someone like him but they always say expect the unexpected.

"They broke up." Jocelyn spoke with a mouth filled with chocolate chip cookies. She didn't explain any further so Jo probably hadn't told her anymore than that.

"That sucks, he was cute and I liked his hair." Max sighed, pouring herself another glass of milk and crushing up the empty gallon jug and throwing it away. Max hadn't ever had a boyfriend that I've known of, she had a crush on the Lucas kid at school but I knew the instant that my father would find out about that he would be furious. Let's be honest, Neil was defiantly racist and no matter how Max felt he would absolutely refuse their relationship, let alone her ever talking to him.

"Ew!" Jocelyn made a disgusted face, sticking her tongue out. "He was annoying, he used to flick my nose all the time!" Jocelyn shook her head in disagreement.

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

"Dammit!"

The sound of a metal clanging against the concrete brought my attention around the old rusted up vehicle that sat in the middle of the neighbor's garage. I had spent many nights over here sitting in lawn chairs looking up at the stars with Jo.

We would talk about family, school and where we could see ourselves in the next few years. Jo would always talk about owning her restaurant. It would be the perfect fit for her, she was so hardworking and such a people person.

It was in this garage that Jo had kissed me for the first time. We had been drinking a lot, Jo was helping me change the oil on my car and she was telling how much she enjoyed spending time with me and working on the cars with me. I stood up and wiped the remaining oil onto the bandana hanging from my back pocket, when she quickly leaned forward placing a hand on either side of my face before pulling me towards her planting a soft and gentle kiss on me. We had kissed for a few minutes before I felt her stiffen against me and blurting out an apology. I didn't reply I only kissed her back in response. The smell of oil and fuel smelt so good on her, being around her was just hypnotizing.

Every time I had changed someone's oil in the shop I had thought about her and that moment, but being in this garage again brought back all those memories and had my entire body aching for her.

"Hey Jo you alright over there?" I leaned against the garage door entrance and gave her a soft smile. I could tell she was stressed, her brows were furrowed and she looked lost in thought, I leaned down picking up the dropped wrench placing it back onto the work bench.

"Billy? Billy Hargrove? Hawkin's heart throb is talking to me?" She placed her hands to her cheeks, faking a shocked look. Jo use to tell me about all of her friends drooling over me in high school, her friends even came over every weekend during the summer and sat in the garage pretending to help her but stood around watching me cut grass, which I obviously did shirtless.

Shut up," I laughed shaking my head, "Jocelyn said you were home now so I thought I'd come say hello and welcome you back. I see you still have this old piece of shit on wheels, you ready to sell it yet?" I raised a brow slapping the hood. Jo brought this car home 4 days after her grandfather passed it was rusted completely and she spent all summer sanding it down and cleaning out the interior, she loved this car and the memories it brought her. She had her mind set on getting it running again and in perfect condition, why? I had no idea but she was determined.

"Thanks for the welcome back, where's my big welcome home sign? Hell, no I'm not ready to sell this thing, sooner or later I'm going to get it up and running!" She shoved my shoulder moving me away from the old mustang's trunk. We had made out on this trunk shortly before her and Travis started dating, I always knew Jo wanted something more with me but I was too busy being stupid and thinking I need to play around with all the high school bimbos before settling down. Just before our family's big forth of July party we worked some in the garage and one thing led to another and we were making out on the trunk of her car, her hands clawed at my back while I leaned us back against the car pressing myself against her completely.

We were moving and grinding deeply against each other. I knew things were moving along quickly but I stopped them before they could go too far. We were both breathing deeply, trying to catch our breathes. Again, she began apologizing profusely. She had nothing to apologize about, I wanted her just the same or even more but I was nothing but a piece of shit and she deserved better than me.

I placed my hands up in a surrender motion, fighting back my laughs. "I apologize there's no welcome home sign, I promise to have that ready next time. And I'm sorry for harming your garbage-" I stopped myself clearing my throat and then beginning again. "Harming your 'antique' " I made air quotes around the word.

"That's right! She's an antique!" She crossed her arms, attempting to act insulted by my comments. We have had many rough nights with this vehicle and she has called it many colorful names but she loved this car and would never part with it.

"How about that gorgeous Camaro of yours? You keeping her cleaned up nice for me?" She winked, wrapping her flannel around her waist and leaning into the passenger window to grab out her tool box.

It had taken me a while to finally let her drive my car, she was constantly begging me to let her drive it the pool or the convenient store but I always refused, until the night of her 20th birthday. We had gone to eat and then the drive ins, she had sat in my passenger seat eagerly watching the movie, I couldn't even remember what we were watching I just remember how excited she got over the action scenes.

Right after the movie had ended I had finally decided to give in and let her drive, she was so excited she almost drug me from my seat and yanked the keys from my hands. She was surprisingly a really talented driver.

"She's spotless and waiting for you to take her for another ride!" I lit up a cigarette, offering it over to her after taking a long drag. She took the cigarette and I watched her lips sensually wrap around the tip taking in a deep drag herself.

"Do you remember the first time you let me drive it?" She handed the cigarette back in my direction, then moving over to the hood and opening it up. Her grandfather taught her everything she knew about working on vehicles. She told me he use to tell her to never rely on a man. He taught her how to change her own tires, change her own oil and every other need for owning a vehicle. He didn't want her to ever depend on anyone for anything, I wonder what he would have thought about Travis? She always acted so weak and timid around him.

"Of course I do. It was the night of your birthday, we had a great night that night didn't we?" I leaned over the motor watching her tinker around inside. She blew my mind how talented she was, I always thought she would have joined me in the mechanic shop.

Old man Sampson owned the shop since he was 18 years old, his father had given it to him and when I was 18 I had started working there after school. I absolutely hated being home and did everything I could to stay away from Neil so, I spent all my time in the shop working on anything I could get my hands on. Sampson saw how hard I worked and how much I loved the shop so when he got sick he wrote up his will leaving the shop to me.

I renamed the shop in his honor after he passed and I was proud to say business was doing really well and I was eager to take Jo there and show her around.

She nodded, glancing up to me, then returning to the motor. "It was a great night, we fell asleep on the couch in the garage watching Ghostbusters together."

I had tried so hard to get Jo to let me throw her a party for her 22nd birthday but she insisted on it just being the two of us. She wanted dinner, a drive in movie and then to just hang out and that's exactly what we did. I bought her a tool box with all brand new pieces inside for her to use in the garage and she was so excited about it, she gave me a tight hug and thanked me multiple times for it.

After returning to her house from the drive ins we sat on the couch in the garage together watching the first Ghostbusters movie, we originally sat on opposite ends but once I noticed her shivering I motioned for her to move closer. She placed herself between my legs and laid against my chest, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. Every fiber in my body wanted to pin her down on this couch and cover her in kisses, I was craving her taste.

I adjusted myself multiple times that night, trying to make my erection less noticeable. I swore she could feel it and I swore she was even pressing against it more and trying to turn me on, I continued to fight it though.

About an hour into the movie she had fallen asleep, my left leg and arm had both fallen asleep too but I was in such bliss having her laid against me there was no way I would be moving. It was roughly 7 in the morning when I woke up and realized she was no longer laying with me, she was coming down the stairs as I stood from the couch stretching. She greeted me with a plate of pancakes and the sweetest morning smile.

"Is that the night you go a boner on me?" She looked up again smirking, then moving over to the work bench. Her words caught me completely off guard, I began choking on my cigarette. I had assumed she forgot about that or maybe didn't know at all.

"Oh um," I stuttered, trying to catch my breath. "Yeah, I don't know about that, maybe."

She continued smirking, knowing we both knew exactly what she was talking about.

"We both know the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man got you all worked up. So speaking of boners, are there any pretty ladies in your life, Hargrove?" She opened the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers handing one in my direction.

I had the occasion hookup but nothing like I had in high school, I had actually calmed down within the last few years. Tiffany worked at the local bar as a waitress and whenever I found myself a wasted mess she was occasionally fun to bring home but she was a talker and I had absolutely no interest in listening to her talk. My father was always trying to set me up with a guy he worked with's niece but she was a hardcore lesbian and everyone knew it, I think her uncle was just trying to turn her down a different road and that wasn't happening here.

I laughed at her 'boner' comment, before shaking my head. "No, nothing too serious. What about you? How's Travis?" I didn't want to bring up that I asked Jocelyn early about them and that I already knew they were separated.

"I'm not surprised, I don't think you could ever do 'serious', and for Travis we broke up a few weeks ago. We really didn't see eye to eye."

The 'serious' comment hurt but it was so true, Jo had such a good way of putting things and I knew what she meant by 'couldn't see eye to eye'. Travis was boring, he never wanted to go places and see things. Jo wanted to go and explore the world she had talked about it any chance she got.

The first week Jo and Travis started dating, it was Halloween and our buddy Tommy was throwing a party. I was shirtless and had just worn a leather jacket and my fingerless gloves but Travis and Jo were dressed like Goose and Maverick from Top Gun. Jo had on a skin tight green jumpsuit the shorts ending right by her ass, leaving a small amount to hang out the bottom. Her top was very low cut and her breast were spilling from it, under the shorts she wore black fishnet tights and she looked mouth watering. I complimented her at least 5 times that night but Travis did nothing but embarrass her.

Travis said she went over board, he wanted her to wear a similar outfit to his, a green baggy jumpsuit) but Jo was confident in her body and liked dressing to show it. Travis was constantly covering her and asking her to 'be more modest'.

I wanted to take her home and strip her down to nothing but those incredible fishnets and screw her ever loving brains out. I fucked my own hand that entire night after the party thinking of her body riding me.

"I'm sorry to hear that," That's a lie.

"You're better off anyway." I picked up a few pieces of garbage off her bench and threw them in the trash.

I wish I could tell her how much I missed her while she was gone and the nights, I spent lying awake in bed thinking of her. I closed the bar down many nights trying to drink away the reoccurring thoughts in my head, she was just so intoxicating.

**CHECK OUT THIS STORY ON WATTPAD**

https://www.wattpad.com/story/307499530-a-broken-boy-and-a-camaro?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=anythingwitha_j&wp_originator=lQ7WbOZHXISOYtp%2BVs3cfnSSAezAuHqasrQC80BYNjNBOO5HDZRafUb9b7AcqL78QqfJPrTx35X6aaXDFnyimiAygKgX%2B1soFP3025WCdfA9a5SYCaj2uFDt09BKqwzJ

#strangerthings #billyhargrove #hargrove #strangerthings4 #wattpad #steveharrington

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cant-think-of-anything · 4 years ago

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Okay this gave me such a hard time to post, the app threw a fit when I tried to put it in the ask box, Clary kept disappearing so hopefully all of them stay

Clary - orange (not like her hair, more like water colors when you add a bit of water)

Jace - Gold (mentioned way too much about him to be anything else)

Izzy - bright red

Simon - blue that's not really dark or light, if you imagine a blue hoodie it would be something like this

Magnus - peacock colors (he's too colorful to be just one)

Sebastian - a bright purple

Alec - watery blue or light gray

Max lightwood bane - navy blue (yeah)

Rafael lightwood bane - the kind of orange you would see in a kindergarten room

Maia - dark magenta

Lily - electric blue

Raphael - I can't choose between red or brown

Jocelyn - like a worn out couch tan (haha sorry)

Tessa - like a light mauve

Will - blue, his eyes are mentioned an ABSURD amount like way too much for me to even have space to think of something else

Jem - the color of sun coming through the curtains

Charlotte - biscuit brown (is that even a color)

Henry - red (like his hair)

Gabriel - dark grayish blue but almost gray (like storm clouds)

Sophie- dark purple, like a jewel tone

Gideon - a light tan

Cecily - dark blue but with like a satiny sheen (is that how you spell it)

Jessamine - ivory

Mina - light pink (she's so cute dnskdnkams)

Emma - Sandy yellow

Julian - dark green , almost black

Mark- light sky blue (I love him I literally forgot he existed though oops)

Kieran- blue like his hair

Cristina- a darker pink but still vibrant

Dru - blood red

Ty - gray, similar to Gabriel but lighter than that

Kit- if you open your windows at sunrise that's him, the color and the feeling

Helen - a cream color (like ice cream)

Aline - wine red

James- ooh like a smoky dark gray that's almost see through, yeah for the shadow realm and all but it also gets that whole "mask" thing

Cordelia- GOLDEN HOUR COLOR IT'S PERFECT

Matthew - bright orange

Christopher - lavender and light green

Thomas - olive green but any earthy tones work well

Kamala - royal purple for sure

Grace - silver she's so silver

Eugenia- like a dark salmon or a bright yellow because of the one outfit

Barbara - a darkish brown but not like too dark (like a potato sack color? That sounds bad sorry Barbara)

Oscar the dog - gold (deserved more page time, underrated character smh)

Church - grayyy

Anna - literally couldn't think of anything

Jesse - forest green

Lucie - sky blue just works for her

Belial- (idk if I spelled that right) like when people say sickly pale skin, that's the color (ew)

Lilith - like a mom pink ( I can't even give an explanation)

Alastair - (yes I saved my favorite for last) burgandy, dark red, wine red, just any deep red suits him really well

If the explanations make no sense they were written on like two hours of sleep if I missed someone you like ask me and I will attempt to answer @immortal-enemies

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harryandmolly · 5 years ago

Text

fear and loathing in mandeville canyon *2*

summary: Shawn & Lilly, derailed, detoured, but maybe not destroyed

warnings: language, going going but not quite gone

wc: 3.2k

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He forgot about how pink she is.

It sounds so stupid, even in his head. Of course she’s kind of pink. She’s pale and gingery. It’s just jarring to see her skin like this again, glowing in the kitchen in the dappled morning sunlight.

He announces himself with a clearing of his throat and peels his interested gaze away from the way her rosy toes bounce to an invisible beat against the kitchen floor. She looks over her shoulder.

More pink.

“Morning,” he grunts, edging around the other side of the counter to head for the fridge.

“Hi.”

Her voice is soft and a little rough. He forces himself not to look at her. He busies himself instead with digging an apple out of the fruit drawer.

“How’s the room?” he asks, a safe entrance point.

“Oh, it’s good. It’s nice.”

He aches. They’re so awkward. He doesn’t know what he was expecting. He tried to steel himself for this, he knew they couldn’t just fall back into what they were before. But how do you prepare for the awkwardness of being strangers with your best friend?

“Good. Cool. Yeah, I thought the balcony would be good. I mean, y’know, for yoga.”

She nods, then looks back down at the pan of eggs she’s cooking. She’s swirling her spatula, cooking them over a very low heat like Gordon Ramsey. He’s never watched her cook eggs before. When they were together, they usually Postmated breakfast. He doesn’t really know why.

She looks tired, despite his assumption that she slept from early last night until just now. She looks as tired as he feels, having gotten around the four hours that’s become all but normal to him recently. He has too much going on in his head to expect any restorative sleep. There aren’t enough waking hours in the day, so his body made more.

Lilly looks up at him so suddenly he stops, mouth open, the apple hovering near his lips, unmoving. He feels his heart stutter in his chest.

Her eyes drop. She swallows and seems to refocus on her breakfast. Shawn tries not to feel disappointed. After all, he disappointed her first.

“I’ll be around outside if you need me,” he offers, hoping to god he doesn’t look like a kicked puppy as he wanders off, watching her gaze remain steady on the eggs like he didn’t say anything at all.

Shawn slips the phone back into his pocket. It’s not doing him any good right now. He’s not sure what is. He glances down at his guitar disdainfully, then back up to squint through the afternoon sun at the winding gardens.

He’s been outside almost all day. A part of him wonders if he’s subconsciously surrendering the space to her, in case she really doesn’t want him in it. A bigger part of him thinks he just doesn’t want her to hear this shit he’s working on.

Every time he thinks of a lyric and decides to sing it out loud, he almost convulses with disgust. Nothing sounds right or feels right. He likes the melody -- loves it, actually. He hasn’t written anything worth a damn in the last few weeks, and possibly before, and this had him hoping he was getting back on track with his album. But now he’s stuck. Beyond stuck. He’s exhausted and stressed enough to half-believe he’s lost any songwriting talent he ever had.

He wonders what Lilly’s doing. He’s afraid to check. He doesn’t want to hover or annoy her. His stomach turns at the idea of her disliking him any more than she already does. The truth is, he craves her company more than anything else about her. He misses plucking at a guitar at one end of a couch with her feet in his lap while she wrote on her laptop. He even misses FaceTime sessions when they were mostly silent, getting other shit done, but just wanted, needed to be with each other.

He wets his lips and slouches against the teak garden bench, sighing heavily as his mind races through a harried, scattered version of a summation of the last nine months. He can’t believe he let everything get so fucked up. Shawn picks at a loose thread on his gym shorts and wonders if there’s any chance at all that she might miss being around him, too.

He lifts the guitar back into his lap after a too-long self pity session. He clears his throat and shifts to get comfortable. As he does, he senses something that makes him look over his shoulder, just in time to catch the flutter of a curtain closing from one of the living rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows that face the backyard.

He turns back to the guitar.

Shawn heads inside around dinner time. He can feel the heat settling in his shoulders and the bridge of skin across his nose and he knows he should’ve been wearing sunscreen. He also knows that nine months ago, Lilly would’ve ripped him a new one if he came back to her sunburnt, so he’s a little masochistically curious to see her reaction.

She’s in the kitchen again, almost exactly where he left her. Her hair is piled up in a bun that’s been picked at and hastily rebuilt all day. At some point she changed into a new pair of leggings and a workout tank. She looks like an Instagram ad for trendy healthy living in this kitchen. He allows himself half a smile.

He props the guitar up against the window seat and edges toward her like she’s a feral cat. Her eyes lift from the wide blonde-wooded butcher’s block that lives beside the sink. They narrow almost imperceptibly at the sight of him, all red and sweaty, he’s sure, and then drop back down to the box of Kraft mac and cheese she’s pouring into a boiling pot.

He’s gonna live on that look for days.

“Hey,” he grunts, realizing his voice is a little hoarse from abusing it all day, “How was your day?”

Shawn really hasn’t been inside at all. Or eaten basically anything. Or had any water. Unfortunately that’s not off-brand for him lately. But it means he hasn’t seen her since 9am.

He missed her.

She lifts and drops a shoulder, stirring the noodles so they don’t clump like he always used to forget to do. “It was fine.”

Shawn waits. She doesn’t owe him any more, but he hopes for it anyway.

She glances up at him. “Do you want half of this?”

He swears his growling empty stomach flops down onto his shoes. A combination of misplaced politeness and knee-jerk negative reaction to dairy drilled into him by Cez and Jocelyne have him shaking his head before he can think about it.

“That’s ok, I shouldn’t.”

Lilly snorts and Shawn goes stiff.

“Oh shut up and just take it.”

His chest deflates as he blinks, startled. He nods and nearly stumbles up to the bar to sit while she prepares it.

It takes him a strangely long time to notice that she’s playing music on her phone. He tilts his head and identifies it as a deep cut from Heavier Things by John Mayer. He wonders if he goes a little pinker.

She adds extra butter and shredded cheddar to the macaroni. He tries not to consider what eating this much shitty processed cheese for the first time in months will do to his body. He’s grateful that his bathroom is a whole house away from hers.

Lilly prepares their bowls in silence, holding up her trusty Old Bay seasoning as an offering that he politely refuses with a timid smile. If he’s not delusional from low blood sugar and dehydration, she smiles a little bit too.

Lilly rounds the counter to sit beside him at the bar. The whole right side of his body tingles in response to her closeness. His heart rate lifts, his fingers reach for his spoon to stir faster, needing something to do. And then just before she sits, her phone rings.

She checks the caller and looks up at him semi-apologetically.

“Sorry, it’s my mom.”

Lilly wanders away, phone to her ear, bowl in her hand.

Shawn drags his spoon through the cheese sauce she got so remarkably smooth. He eats every bite. It might be the best mac and cheese he’s ever had.

The master bedroom is located at the end of a long hallway that creaks and crackles charmingly with the age of the house. Shawn doesn’t really notice it when he’s walking from one end of it to the other, but he does when it’s her.

He’s feeling sorry for himself, his new not-favorite pastime, staring at his phone in partial darkness in the wide open sitting room adjacent to his bedroom. The sun set ten minutes ago, the world outside is blue. The white carpet below his bare, dirty feet is kind of blue too. His guitar sits in the corner, shunned and untouched.

The footsteps feel like a phantom sensation at first, but he doesn’t have long enough to think about it before she walks around the corner into the room. She doesn’t hesitate, she doesn’t slow down.

She’s in a heavy oversized sweater and sleep shorts holding a bottle of red and two glasses. She lifts an eyebrow and shrugs. Shawn wants to cry.

He nods at her and sits up, hoping he looks more welcoming than despondent. He tries a smile. She chuckles and sits at his feet, cross-legged, and opens the screw top bottle.

“Please stop looking at me like I might slap you at any moment.”

Shawn clicks his tongue nervously. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

She ignores his comment and passes up his glass by the stem. He’s careful to take it by the bowl despite how badly he wants to touch her fingers. She sits back with her own and looks up at him steadily for the first time since she got here.

“Cheers. We’re lucky. Really lucky.”

Shawn matches the way she raises her glass, then he drinks, raking a hand through his sticky hair.

She’s right, of course. He realizes he hasn’t thought about it much since he got back to LA. Getting to her and then getting her safe was his singular focus, which as he thinks about it now, is extraordinary privilege. He feels gross all of a sudden for how little consideration he’s given everything, everyone else.

Another failing to choke down.

“Are you ok?”

Shawn blinks. He looks down at her. She’s staring up at him, head tilted like a cocker spaniel, glass sitting between her fingers. He looks at them instead of her face.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

Another lie to choke down.

Lilly takes a big sip. “You look like you’re doing the self-flagellation thing.”

“What self-flagellation thing?”

He doesn’t know if it’s more bullishness or true curiosity driving him to ask.

“You’ve got this look on your face like you’re recreating the “Stitches” video in your own head.”

It startles him into laughing. She doesn’t laugh with him.

“I don’t know. I feel like I should be ok. I don’t have a reason not to be.”

She seems to consider him for a few moments. She takes another sip. Shawn looks down. His glass is empty. Lilly notices and refills it.

“Not like I do, you mean?”

That feeling in Shawn’s chest that first showed up when he confronted her at her house is back. It’s like a tiny pebble is clogging an artery, or something. Everything feels a little stuck and he’s not even mad because he probably deserves it.

He exhales a shaky breath and brings his hand through his hair again. “I dunno.”

This second wishy-washy answer isn’t what she wanted. She hardens. “I want you to know, I want you to understand that I was fine. I am fine. I do appreciate the rescue but I didn’t need… closure.”

The pebble fucking grows.

“Closure?” he nearly chokes.

“That feels like the only sane reason you insisted on coming to see me.”

It’s pointed. Her pretty gunmetal blue eyes are solid. Her lips have gone tight around the corners. It’s a clear warning.

His eyes drift shut in a heavy blink. He takes another sip.

“I feel like… for as often as I’ve thought about talking to you about this, I should know what I want to say. But I still don’t.”

Lilly sighs and drains her glass, refilling it. “Keep drinking, you’ll figure it out.”

Shawn looks down at his and finishes it. Lilly refills it.

He studies the way her legs fold beneath her, and the white casts of stretch marks visible against her inner thighs, the ones he used to trace with his tongue, nose, fingers. He recognizes the sweater she’s wearing. It’s so big it pools around her wrists even where she’s rolled it up. She got it in college at Goodwill for $5. It used to be her favorite piece of clothing. He wonders if it’s been replaced.

With a lurch of his already sensitive stomach, he wonders if he has, too.

“Have you dated anyone?”

Her nose wrinkles distastefully and he sees the misstep he’s made too late, like a pile of dogshit.

“Seriously?”

“Sorry, sorry. Fuck. You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s not my business.”

She raises her eyes to the ceiling and shakes her head. He feels thoroughly chastised. He thinks maybe she’ll just get up and walk away. He dreads that and craves the punishment of it in equal measure.

“It’s not that.”

His brow furrows. She can still surprise him.

“What is it?” he whispers.

Her nose twitches. “I just… I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want anyone else.”

He goes so warm all over, a sensation he distantly remembers but is sure he doesn’t deserve.

After a moment, Shawn climbs down from his chair and takes the bottle, filling his glass. He sits in front of her. It’s not six feet away, it’s not even close. He’ll move if she asks.

“I thought I had to know why. It was the thing that had me a heartbeat away from calling you a dozen times. I thought if you could just tell me why you loved her more, I could get over it faster,” she muses.

Shawn holds his breath while she speaks to her dwindling glass.

“But more than that I wanted to hold onto my pride. I wanted my last words to you to be those, what I said before you left that night. That won, I guess.”

She’s quiet for almost a minute.

“Do you remember what I said?” she asks.

He says “yes” quietly and doesn’t add that those moments are seared indelibly in his memory -- her face, her breath, her tone, every word exactly as she delivered them. It’s the stuff of his regular nightmares.

She huffs and smiles, but it’s dark. “It didn’t even work. I never got to hate you, even as badly as I wanted to. I think I’ve loved you too much to ever hate you.”

Shawn’s head feels light from the booze and the lack of oxygen he’s allowing it from refusing to breathe.

“I thought it was a curse, maybe. Especially because for a while I couldn’t even look at pictures of you with her. I’d get all panicked and distracted, even in public. But lately, like in the last… I dunno, three months? It got a lot easier. I don’t know why. There never seemed to be a trigger for healing, but it felt like it started finally after waiting around for it forever. And now we’re here and I don’t know what kind of mark this will leave.”

She’s speaking easily, matter-of-factly, but he thinks he knows her well enough to feel what’s beneath it. He could always tell exactly how she was feeling, even when she didn’t want him to.

Shawn clears his throat twice before attempting to speak, but his voice still sounds broken and shredded. “There was so much I wanted to say to you after I left. But… the biggest thing, the thing that bothered me the most, the part I fucking hated, is that you wondered if I felt like I was settling with you, that I was waiting around for her consciously when I was with you. I… I never felt that way. I wanted you. I was so crazy about you. I really fucking loved you.”

The past tense hurts to say out loud, like he’s spitting glass. Lying to her disgusts him, but he thinks it’s the first unselfish thing he’s done in months. She doesn’t want to hear that he still loves her. Even if he thinks he always will. It’s not the time. So he swallows it.

She looks interested, convinced maybe. She finishes her glass and pours herself more, topping up his glass with the rest of the bottle.

“I had myself convinced I didn’t need to hear that.”

A flare of unfamiliar pride glimmers in his chest. He did something good. He said something that helped. Maybe he’s not as miserable a bastard as he thought.

“It’s true,” he assures her, feeling bleary from the wine but absolutely certain.

“I think I knew,” she admits, stretching out her legs so her feet sit beside him. He forces himself not to look at her soft, shapely thighs, “Because… it was really good for a while.”

But she’s always surprising him. Out of seemingly nowhere, Lilly’s chin wobbles. She claps a hand over her mouth to cover a harsh, sobbing inhale. Shawn’s blood runs cold.

“Lilly,” he breathes, blinking quickly, “Lilly, I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes go sort of green when she cries. Shawn hates that he knows that. He wishes he knew everything about her but that.

Without thinking, without breathing, without another word, Shawn leans forward and gets as far as brushing his lips across hers before she springs back and stares at him like he’s just screamed in her face.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh god,” Shawn spews, “Oh god, fuck, I’m sorry. Oh fuck, I’m so sorry. Lil, fuck, shit, I didn’t-- oh god--”

As he garbles his way through apologies, Lilly leaps to her feet and leaves without another word. Shawn lurches in her direction like he wants to catch her but doesn’t fully commit. He hears himself continuing to mumble hopelessly until her quick footsteps are too far away to hear the creaking protests of the old house.

Shawn lets his body drop to the carpet beside the empty wine bottle. He releases a shaky breath and lifts the heels of his hands to his eyes, pressing in when the tears come. He doesn’t know why he’s crying. He shouldn’t be allowed. He should be forced to keep this feeling bottled up, to live with it -- live with knowing he made her uncomfortable. He forced himself on her. He kissed her when she didn’t want him to. There should be no relief from that.

But it only makes him cry harder.

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I can only hope you’ve been inundated with these links the last few days, but just in case you haven’t, here they are. Please visit them and give what you can, be it time, consideration, or money. Let’s affect some fucking change, shall we?

Minnesota Freedom Fund

George Floyd’s Family’s GoFundMe

Color of Change Petition

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Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @shawnsmusical @paigeasourous @tell-me-when-ur-ready @softmendesss @searchingunderthestars @buggy-blogs @mendesficsxbombay @siennarossi @lostinshawnsmemory @umbreakablesoul @sleepybesson @shawnsheaven @shaawnie @shawn-youth @graysonmendes

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes drabble #shawn mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fluff

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syms-things-5 · 5 years ago

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Seven

Previous Chapter HERE

Warning: Some language

Chapter Seven

Curled up on the sofa next to Shan with the bottle of red Noah had left was where Sarah found herself later that same evening, not entirely of her own doing. She’d changed into her sweatpants and her old university hoodie for comfort as soon as she’d arrived back but she still found it hard to relax.

Earlier, after they’d left the gallery, they had continued walking to the restaurant Jocelyn had scouted for them based upon a magazine review she’d read in Home & Country. They had managed to keep their awkwardness to a minimum so no one could tell but Chris soon felt the need to make an excuse and leave. Just before they arrived at the restaurant, he turned to thank Noah and Jocelyn for a nice afternoon and left them to it claiming his producer had emailed some last-minute script amendments he needed to be clued up on. Thankfully, he was a good enough actor that they didn’t suspect anything was amiss. He kissed Jocelyn on the cheek and patted Noah on the back of his shoulder but pretty much ignored Sarah as he walked off back in the direction of his own apartment, head down to avoid the rain. The three of them continued but Sarah had lost her appetite by that point so they called it a night after having a drink at the bar next door.

She texted Chris on the way home to tell him her folks had said it was nice to see him. She had no real reason to tell him that of course but it seemed like the thing to do. That was now over an hour ago and Chris still hadn’t responded. Anyone else would have assumed, logically, that he simply hadn’t seen it yet, or he had been in the process of replying but got distracted with something else, but she knew differently. She found herself anxious at the best of times but not so much concerned with what other people thought of her, if they thought anything at all, or whether she had annoyed anyone. The Evans clan were the exception to that rule. They knew her better than almost anyone. She figured, should she ever wind up missing, that she would be one of those people about whom others would give very banal police statements such as “she was quiet” or “she kept herself to herself” or “actually, now you mention it, she does look a little bit like a female Cillian Murphy.” She almost certainly would not have a candle-light vigil held for her in a park, which was a sobering thought.

“This guy’s a dick.” spoke Shan, mouth full of cookie dough, snapping Sarah out of her head for a second. “He’s stolen another designer’s idea but the judges haven’t figured it out yet.”

Sarah tried quickly to catch up with what was happening on the TV screen. “Is he gonna get away with it? Will they get told, or...?”

“Yeh, the producers will say something. They’re just ramping it up for the drama.”

Sarah loved how into Reality TV Shanna was. Don’t count her out of a quiz team; she knows everything there is to know about Project Runway and could put anyone to shame with her intricate knowledge of Kim Kardashian’s romantic life. Possibly even more so than Kim herself. It was both strangely impressive and kind of scary at the same time, and was possible also the reason why Chris never invited her to parties in L.A.

“So, who is going to win again? Is there a frontrunner yet?”

“We’ve only had three episodes but Jody, definitely. She’s soooo cool. I’m following her on Instagram and she designed these flares that I’m gonna buy if they ever go on sale.” Shan pulled out her phone and started scrolling through the app to find them.

Sarah poured herself another glass of wine and waiting to be blown away by Shan’s ever-changing fashion sense. She wished she was confident with clothes and colour as Shanna had grown to be. She was never afraid to experiment with what she wore, often clashing but somehow always pulling it off. Confidence is key, she would say if you asked her for advice. You can wear absolutely anything you like if you act like you don’t give a shit. In stark contrast, if you managed to find something that wasn’t beige or mauve in Sarah’s closet, it would be a miracle. Actually, if you managed to find anything in her closet that was younger than five years old would be a rarer find than a double rainbow. “Autumnal” is how she would describe it. “Dull as fuck” would be Audrey’s response.

“Oh, Chris wants to know if we’re bringing anyone to his party next week. Matt needs numbers. Do you think Audrey will fancy coming?” Shan offered without looking up from her phone. “Actuallt, stupid question.”

“Actually, no, I don’t think so. I think it’s hers and Michael’s anniversary. She mentioned they were thinking of driving up to the coast.” She took a sip from her glass. “Did he just ask you that?”

“Yeh. Well, like ten minutes ago but I forgot to say anything.” Shan was still scrolling through her phone to find the photograph and couldn’t see the dejection cross Sarah’s face.

“Here they are. Look. Funky or what?” Shan excitedly waved her phone in Sarah’s direction so she could only make out a swirl of blue and purple. They were definitely flares, though. Ideal for a themes costume party but probably everyday wear for someone as ballsy as Shanna. “I reckon these with my black platforms and that red angora sweater of yours.” Maybe Sarah’s wardrobe was of some appeal after all.

“Yeh, I could see you in those for sure.” Sarah smiled. “But that sweater is the only decent thing I could wear on a date that isn’t part of my day to day stuff so you need to be careful with it.”

“Aww you saving it for Greg?” Shan winked.

“Hardly.” Sarah tried to find the energy to eye roll back at her but she was too bothered by the confirmation that Chris was almost certainly absolutely definitely ignoring her.

“Shan? I think I’ve done something stupid and I’m not sure what to do.”

Shan looked taken aback for a moment before just plain confused. “Sarah, you don’t do ‘stupid’. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fixable.” she leaned forward a little, moving closer to Sarah on the armchair next to the couch. “You know, it sounds odd but I had this feeling something was going on. You’ve been a little distracted lately. What is it?”

Now it was Sarah’s turn to hope Shanna wouldn’t be mad at her. “You know I contacted the agency? About Charlotte? Well, they’ve put me in touch with her and things have moved on a little bit since and now we’re sort of talking to each other. We’re thinking of meeting up soon.”

Shanna’s eyes grew wider in surprise. She’d known about Sarah’s response to the agency’s request and had made her feelings approximately clear some time before, but the actual talking part was new information.

“We’ve been texting a bit.” Sarah continued with some trepidation. “She gave them her number to pass on to me. She’s thinking of coming to Boston soon, maybe to have a drink or something. What do you think?”

Shan looked at Sarah without blinking for a moment. She didn’t know what to think. “Wow, you have her number? And she has yours? Obviously, sorry. That was a dumb thing to ask. OK. Well, I guess that’s that then.” Shanna placed her phone down on the coffee table in front of her and readjusted her position on the couch so she was facing Sarah more now.

Sarah rubbed the back of her neck. “Chris thinks I’m being stupid.”

“Oh, Chris thinks everyone is stupid if they don’t think the exact same way he does.” Shanna exaggerated her eye roll causing Sarah to chuckled. “Have you heard him talk about Giants fans?!”

“He is right, though, isn’t he? It’s a risk. I mean, she didn’t want to know before so what’s changed now?”

“A lot of things could have changed, Sarah. I guess you’ll find out soon enough.” Shanna responded. “When do you think you guys’ll meet?”

“She’s gonna let me know. She has to travel to Boston so I guess it depends on her journey.” Sarah shrugged, noting Shanna’s scepticism. “I’m sure she’ll contact me.”

“Yes, of course she will.” Shanna briefly paused. “Where is she from?”

“Raleigh, North Carolina. She wasn’t born there, I don’t think. Moved for work. I’m guessing she’s from Michigan originally but I don’t really know that for sure.”

Shanna nodded along, taking in everything Sarah was telling her and trying not to appear cynical. Having been on the end of something similar some years earlier, she appreciated how comforting the support was even if she herself knew it to be forged somehow. She knew the last thing Sarah would need right now was to be told she was being foolish, and she made a mental note to elbow her stupid brother in his ribcage the next time she saw him.

“I was going to tell them this weekend but I bottled it. After everything Chris said, I just figured maybe they would think I didn’t appreciate them enough. I just can’t put that on them. Not now. Not until I’ve at least met her.” Sarah rubbed both hands down her face. She didn’t know what to do and had kind of hoped that Shanna would magically make everything better.

“From everything I know of Joss and Noah, I really don’t think they would ever stop you from seeing her.” Shan nudged Sarah’s foot with her own, trying to get her attention back. “You can’t expect them to be over the moon aout it but they would at least understand your choosing to do so. And despite Chris’s opinion, that’s what this is. Your choosing. You have control over this and if you say so, well, then...that’s all that matters.”

Sarah smiled softly at Shanna, glad she’d taken the plunge and finally told her what was going on. Her shoulders felt a little lighter after removing some of the weight.

“But I can’t promise we’ll be OK. We’ll worry about you until she gives us reason not to.” Shanna leaned back on the couch, wine now in hand, and curled her feet back under herself. “Tough shit.”

Sarah watched as a smile slowly spread across Shanna’s face, her eyes full of sympathy. “You have to face it. We love you very much and if she dares even cross you? Just once? We’ll burn her house down.”

“OK.” Sarah nodded, wiping her eyes of the tears that had started forming in the corners. “OK, deal.”

Nothing had really changed in the days that followed. Sarah had the impression Chris was continuing to ignore her, with only short, clipped phrases padding out any conversation they might have had by accident. She was also pretty sure he and Lisa had both been talking to Shanna about it when he thought she couldn’t hear him, casually enquiring about her plans to meet. At several times, she caught the ends of hushed conversations and experience the odd awkward moment where everything would freeze as soon as she’d walk into the room. If they had been hoping to alleviate any concern, they were failing. Shanna was also a terrible liar at the best of times but to her credit, Sarah had heard her give Chris an earful for what he’d said to her following their visit to the McCurry exhibition and he had promised to offer Sarah an apology but that had yet to materialise, not that she cared much. Shanna had also decided not to give away any details of their impending meeting and for that, she’d be eternally grateful.

“So,” Audrey said, leaning on the desk where Sarah had set up camp to catch up on some patient admin. “You’re really going to see her, huh? How will you know it’s her?”

“How do you mean?” Sarah looked up briefly from the papers in front of her, a crease forming on her brow. She was fed up of people’s judgements.

“Will she be carrying a white newspaper and some roses, or has she sent you a photograph of herself so you know who to look out for?”

No sarcasm intended, Audrey was serious and she was right. That was a really good question. Crap. She hadn’t given much thought to asking Charlotte what she looked like and the photograph from twenty-nine years ago of a young curly-haired brunette with wide, tired eyes might not be the most entirely accurate depiction to work off. She could be a full-time blonde right now, and she had no idea how tall or slim she might be. In a strange way, being caught up in the unnerving anticipation of finally meeting her birth mother, she must have simply assumed they would bear a passing resemblance to one another. That their eyes would meet across a room and they would know instantly who the other person was. Maybe they would hug first and conversation would flow naturally from there and it would be like, where have you been all my life?

One thing Lisa had offered by way of advice was to tell Sarah to stop putting unrealistic expectations on herself. She told her she didn’t want her to be disappointed but it was almost too late for that now. She couldn’t help but get a little carried away the more she thought about the infinite possibilities and the closer their arranged date crept up on her, the more agitated she became.

Work had been something of a welcome distraction. A chance to ground herself in reality as opposed to daydreaming all the what-ifs she might have before the weekend arrived. She’d even allowed herself to flirt a little bit with Greg, not too much but certainly enough to garner Audrey’s amusement and surprise.

“I’m just saying. It’s worth asking for some kind of idea of what she plans to wear, or maybe you should tell her something about yourself?” Audrey suggested. “I’ve always thought you would look amazing with rose gold hair and that would give you a perfect way to stand out.”

“I’m not gonna dye my hair. Remember what happened last time? That charity thing? I had to replace all of my towels.” They both laughed at the memory but something had clearly struck a chord somewhere inside her and Sarah pondered it for a second. “You’re right, though. I haven’t really thought much beyond the day itself.” Sarah looked back down at the work in front of her, all of it suddenly losing focus. “Tell you the truth, I have no idea what I’m going to say to her.”

“Yes, you are quite awkward at the best of times, aren’t you?”

Sarah eyed Audrey for a second unsure of what to say before catching the smirk on her face. She threw a roll-up memo note at her face.

“What do you think you’ll say to her?” Audrey asked, more seriously now.

Sarah took a deep break and leaned back in her chair. Truthfully, she had been losing sleep over this very subject, swinging between general chit-chat you would have with a long-lost pal you’d just added on Facebook, and calling her every name under the sun. She figured the fairest most useful thing would be somewhere between the two.

“I have no idea. Every time I think I have a hold on the situation, some other thought pops into my head and it’s like I’m back at zero again.” She threw the pen she’d been holding on to the table and looked at Audrey. Audrey’s face was full of something akin to worry.

“If you like, I could always call you, like on a date? If everything is OK, you can ignore it. If not, it could be your get-out clause?” Audrey offered. If Sarah had asked, Audrey would have probably staked the place out and sat next to them all night, and only partly because she was nosier than she would admit.

“I love you, Audrey.”

Audrey playfully rolled her eyes. “OK, I get it. This is something you have to do yourself. Just know the offer still stands, OK?” Sarah nodded gratefully. “I’m off in ten and I don’t think I’ll see you again before, so...take care. Let me know how it goes, yeh?”

She grabbed Sarah’s shoulder in a tight grip before walking out of the room, leaving Sarah to her mountain of paperwork and another three hours of shift before she could head home and try to get some sleep.

Sarah waited a second before pulling her phone out of her pocket. The last messages she had sent over the past day or two had all been to Charlotte; all of them casual enough but she’d answered every single one of them. Relief washed over her momentarily as she considered how to approach the awkward subject of not having a clue what her biological mother looked like. Then again, this whole situation was awkward. It was awkward as hell, so she just went for it.

Sarah 9.02pm: Just a thought. Who should I look out for this Friday?

Mercifully, she didn’t have to wait long for a response. The feeling she had was almost pleasant and it caught her off guard.

Charlotte 9.09pm: Oh my word, I didn’t think!! I’ll be in a red dress. Boots. Honestly I only have one nice outfit ;)

She allowed herself to smile for a second at her reply, taking a moment to think about what she was doing. If she could meet Charlotte for an hour, nothing too pressured, she could easily grab a cab to Chris’ place afterwards and still be there before 9pm. No one would notice.

Sarah 9.12pm: No problem. I’ll look out for you. Still OK for 7.30?

Charlotte 9.14pm: Absolutely! Looking forward to it x

#chris evans #chris fic #evans fic #Clear The Area #Sarah Bernette #chris evans x original female character #Syms Writing

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sweet-xoxo-thatcares · 4 years ago

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Coraline, I miss you.

You know what's funny,

This is the first time, in a long time,

Where I actually didn't cry by the end of our story.

Like I was shocked for a moment, like:

"Why do I feel ok?"

"Why am I not angry or sad?"

"Or ready to toss myself out of a window?"

It’s because we've already died once. I've accepted this death.

My soul has felt like this, twice maybe nearly three times....ok maybe 16 if you’re including childhood. Heartbreak don't phase me no more. It’s required when falling in love with someone like you. Someone who has ripped through people so many times as the same had been done to you as a child.

But Jesus rose again each time.

He has gotten me through every hell hole with you.

I shall fear no evil.

No longer do I fear the love in my heart for you either.

I dont have to do anything. I dont have to say anything.

I can just be here, chilling, living my life, as I should.

Helping myself to a pack of gummy worms

That I forgot was on the floor.

And there’s nothing you can do about it.

Im not choosing to be bitter.

Im not choosing to be scared that my ex lovers might kidnap me, kill me, or break my heart again in the future.

(I might have these thoughts in the back of my head...)

But for what? Because of the past?

I know who they are and I know my God.

"God is bigger than the boogie man"

He will protect me from Peter Pan, Captain Hook, and his crew of theives.

Im not crying in pain anymore.

My wounds are sealed.

It’s finally been done.

Even though im still in love with you, yet left me with none in return.

I know you still burn a secret torch for me.

And you’ll probably be the last to know as you still say to yourself “its just lust”

But i did the same thing, holding myself back because I thought it was just lust and look at where it got me.

Stuck playing with you, and sipping vodka at pity parties whenever you or she called it quits.

And I'll probably be there once they realizes how to escape from the prism of prisons that they (one person; my ftm) had forced themselves into to survive their childhood:

1st- their insecurity and battle of mind

2nd- their complex view on sex, marriage, and commitment

And finally 3rd; childhood trauma.

Jay you gotta heal from your mother and your father's wounds that they gave you. Emotionally and physically.

Because the scars that you bare now, can pass on to your children if you don't grieve properly.

Showing emotion is not weak. Yes, you are going to be vulnerable. But it takes strength to show where your wounds are to somebody that you trust.

I'm sorry I lied about my involvement with Calvin to try and make you feel jealous. We're just work buddies, nothing more. It was to get back at you for making me feel jealous on purpose in Franken----, I had a feeling that you were doing it for attention from me and her, because you wanted to see how I would react. So instead, that day (and the day at the target/mall) I gave you the cold shoulder and ignored you every time you attempted to get a reaction out of me. Because I knew you were being sly and sadistic to me, you felt a dry spell between us and wanted to know if I was being mischievous or did I actually stop being interested in you?

I know its confusing, because by this point usually you would say something argumentative like "well, how do you know all that?"

And then I would say, "Clearly, its simple. I know you. Jay-Jaiden-Jocelyn. Because clearly you operate on entirely different plane of view than I. You think like 3-4 different people at a time, and that my friend sounds exhausting.

That repepetive pounding in your head is from, your father still infiltrating your mind. The one who abused you the most.

I saw this that night we got into it at your apartment. You got in my face, poked me in my chest as you said "Now you have to make the asshole."

You made the energy in the room feel cold. And I knew it wasn't you.

It was your father. You became your father's energy. You replicated that.

Because your body remembers.

You, Jay, might not remember.

But the other people in line for your spot in your mind do,

Remembers all too well. They keep your secrets safe within you.

Once the council figured out that I knew,

they got scared and tormented me for it.

Na, knows it too.

She's playing mind games on you.

But you can't see it physically.

I couldn't see it either at first.

Until I got home everytime and reflected back at what happened

In reverse.

Everything is inverted.

This whole time I thought it was you that was evil.

But its really been her.

She's been using your mind against you.

All because of cheating on her with other people over the years. It hurt her deeply. She grew numb, cold, and distant. That’s why she wants another. Because you were always looking outside from her to seek pleasure and attention.

She used to be serving, and submissive to you, but now she’s outsmarted you. She knows that you will always play outside, so she gave you a leash. Thus, a leash for herself to gift you, so she could seek her benefits elsewhere too.

She said she always felt like she needed to take care of someone or something to feel better. I think you’re still in delusion about everything staying together with her.

She said she was gonna ask me to move in with y'all! Of course I was next to have a leash. I was her next project to take care of.

I needed to get out of there. Before she had me hip to her bosom just like you.

A girl with mommy issues.

I was next on her guest list.

She knows the key is to my heart. And the only way to get instant access is my...... “peaches.” SHE WANTED EXCLUSIVE ACCESS TO MA’ PEACHES!

OF COURSE I RANN!

And I’m glad I did. Cause’ then you and I would have been stuck on that boat for awhile. Like her two light skinned boyfriend/girlfriends.

I know it sounds like I have commitment issues, but tbh she was way too controlling of a girlfriend to begin with. And I see why, but still...

I know it might take awhile before you actually find this.

But please know, my intention was to help you.

But at least I found out before its too late.

That I can't.

You can't save someone who doesn’t see anything wrong with their environment. I can see you’re both hurting, but I have to let you both learn what's been going on on your own.

Only you can break down the walls that your mind built yourself within.

That damn rabbit hole. I didn’t want you to fall in.

But I can see now that you already did.

And I accept that I’ve lost you. My best friend.

But you’ll come back when you are ready.

But I can't say that I’ll be the same person by the time you come back.

Because we always do.

I love them, and thats it, thats the end of it.

And I finally know its alright to feel peace

After I’ve already done all that I could.

What happened. Happened. And its up to me now to carry my own weight and pack my saddlebag for my next adventure

-✈️You’re looking at your new Flight Attendant.

P.S. I’m earning my badges as I go. And Tumblr, I’m just venting while my therapist is on my vacation and I’m waiting to come out to my parents until I move to have a decent, stable home in New York or Connecticut somewhere...wherever...damn...imma be 25 next year wtf

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heatherrosebabcock · 4 years ago

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“One day, we’ll share a drink to forget these times.”

A friend said this to me, three months into the Covid-19 pandemic. 2020 has been a year with all the grace of a chainsaw; a year that most of us would like to forget.

However during this bleak time of loss and lockdowns, when the days piled up like pizza coupons in a letterbox and every morning felt like getting ready for a trip to the airport, there was one bright light for me and that was the release of my debut historical novel Filthy Sugar.

I’ve never been a “milestone” kind of person; my life missing the diplomas, weddings and babies that others use to bookmark their journeys. Filthy Sugar was to be my milestone: a tangible symbol of the twenty-plus years that I have spent working on my craft.

Writers worry about everything and in the year leading up to the release of Filthy Sugar, I was no exception. I worried about the editing process - would I lose a favorite scene or character? - I worried about typos. I’ve always harbored an admittedly silly belief that if I worry about something long and hard enough then the worry won’t come true and everything will be okay. Well, the one thing I forgot to worry about was my book coming out during a world-wide pandemic.

Sorry, guys.

But Filthy Sugar did make its way into the world, thanks to my wonderful publisher Inanna Publications and amazing Editor-in-Chief Luciana Ricciutelli.

Of course, it was launched very differently than expected; due to the circumstances, there would be no wine and cheese in-person party, no book signings, no library readings and no tour. This brick and mortar girl had to catch up with the times, PDQ. My dear friend Liz Worth hosted a virtual speakeasy for Filthy Sugar over Zoom, complete with a 1930′s inspired performance by Neil T. on the ukulele. It was a blast and I was delighted at how it felt like a “real” party - the bonus being that I didn’t have to take the subway home afterwards! Inanna also held a very successful and well attended virtual launch with myself and three other talented Inanna authors. Oh, and I finally upgraded my phone and joined Instagram, which I’ve found is a fun way to reach potential readers. Val Fullard’s gorgeous cover art for Filthy Sugar has inspired some lovely Instagram posts from readers!

Unless you’re a big name or have lots of media connections, book reviews are hard to come by. I am extremely thankful for the great reviews that Filthy Sugar has received from Hollywood Genes, TOpoet.ca, M.H. Callway, and The Historical Novel Society. Top Bookstagram account @bookalong also gave Filthy Sugar a glowing review. Cate McKim of Life With More Cowbell has been very supportive of my book, as has The South Etobicoke News. The wonderful All Lit Up has shown Filthy Sugar much love, choosing it as one of the twelve books that made an impact on them in the past year. I thank everyone here for their support.

Writing kept me calm during this pandemic: my essay on why I feel that Jean Harlow is an important feminist icon was published on the Inanna website and I kept up with my blog Meet Me at the Soda Fountain where my post on 1930′s lingerie received the greatest number of views for me this year.

Thanks to my Editor-in-Chief, Luciana Ricciutelli, Filthy Sugar was nominated for a Goldie and was also made into an audiobook.

Working on Filthy Sugar with Luciana was a wonderful experience: she was so kind, supportive and encouraging, as well as extremely patient with this first time author! She encouraged her authors to follow our dreams and to always dream bigger. Like so many in the Canlit community, I was heartbroken to hear of her passing on December 14th, 2020. Canlit has lost its brightest light. In an interview with Jocelyn Cullity in July, Luciana said:

“I would tell women writers to never give up - write every single day- and know that their voice is not just important, but indispensable in our struggle for a better world for all.”

Thank you Luciana.

#Canlit #debut novel #pandemic life #historical fiction #audiobooks #new fiction #2020 books #writing in a pandemic #Luciana Ricciutelli #Inanna Publications #author life

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likesomekindofcheese · 5 years ago

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Songbird of Jamestown- Chapter Four (Samuel Castell x fem! Reader)

Word Count: 10 K. As the Germans and Austrians say...das ist thick. You may need a snack or water.

Paring: Samuel Castell x fem! Reader

Summary: It is 1619-1620, you have arrived on a boat to the English colony of Jamestown as the company’s plans to send maids to make wives. You hope for a new life and perhaps marriage despite your friend's struggles. Then you cross paths with the colony recorder, he’s kind, shares your interests, intelligent, handsome...and engaged.

Taglist: @blamerogertaylor , @yourlocalmusicalprostitute, @bluesfortheredj (sempai), and @theworksgaga @theoneandonlyeclecticepileptic @rubystarflight @theoneandonlyeclecticepilepic @queenlover05 @themficsilike @joemazzhello

Warnings: A little swearing, references to abuse and prostitution, but none, only drama and angst and a few fluffy moments.

“Who knows, not England once was like, a wilderness and savage place. Until government and use of men that government that wildness did deface? And so Virginia may, in time, be made like England now. Where long loved peace and plenty both, sits smiling on her brow”- Anon, London’s Lottery, 1612

Speaking to strangers was sometimes a circle of hell to you. The sight of the governor’s wife on the streets of the town stuck you with a slight terror knowing your intention.

Although it was an overcast afternoon, it was balmy. There was silent sunlight that made you squint. You took note she was heading home and followed her at a polite distance. She chatted with almost everyone jovially as you waited in the back. From her hair, put up and decorated with small pearls to her dark blue dress with a rather large skirt, she appeared regal.

Finally, she reached her home. A whole garden filled with vegetables lined the side, but the green did not make the house look any friendlier. It loomed over you and its door was like a beast’s mouth.

Mercy said she needed work. But what would she think of you begging her for money? Your mouth went dry and your brain urged you to flee.

But as you drew your sights lower, you saw her eyes kept going down. She was holding the hand of her little daughter, with curly brown hair and full, rosy cheeks. The girl was skipping across the dirt, half-tugging her mother, babbling away about her new baby brother. The Lady looked down on her and even swung her arms, much to the girl’s squeals.

Someone like that would not curse you away.

Taking a deep breath, you started walking before your thoughts would stop you.

“Lady Yeardley, may I request your presence briefly?” you asked.

She nodded politely and sent the tiny girl back home. Breathing in, your hands pressed but fiddling with each other, you spoke how you heard she had the need and you were experienced. You made your offer as a maidservant briefly.

“I cannot hire you,” the Lady Yeardley said.

“Oh…I’m ver-very sorry…” you whimpered; you look down on the ground to your shoes. “Mercy said you were, uh, were available and I’m…I’m running out of food. And money. I-I have to work.”

“It is not that I doubt your abilities, not at all. You’re experienced, even. You would make a lovely maid. There are only two reasons. One, we were all told not to treat the new women here like servants, and second…”

Breathing in, her brown bun dotted with little pearls seemed to shake. Then she stepped a little closer to you. You stepped forward. Her voice was lower.

“I saw you walking the other day in the company of Master Castell unaccompanied. Are you employed by him?” she asked.

Though the way she pronounced her words seemed sharp, her brown eyes still looked soft.

“No, I…I am not” you answered.

“And you know he is to be married soon?”

“I do.”

“Then were your intentions honorable?”

Behind you, you jumped as you heard a few goats being led off through the streets, bleating. A farmer whistled and swatted a long stick to keep them in line.

“If not, you do understand that adultery on this colony is punished by hanging” Lady Yeardley warned

Legs shaking, you couldn’t grasp at what to say other than a polite sputter of “Yes, Lady Yeardley.”

Death for a few flowers?

“Dear maiden, don’t be afraid. I mean no harm. I do not mean to frighten you. Only to protect you. I remember you on the boat. I’ve even heard your voice as you do your chores. Your presence is a good one here if you ask me. So, you need to know of any possible danger. Any frivolity here can be fatal in the wrong hands. So, tell me, in all honesty before someone else does, where were you going and what happened?” she interrogated.

You held your hands, clasping them together to squeeze them for some comfort.

“Your secret will be safe with me, I won’t report you” she assured, walking forward and opening her hands for you to take.

Looking her in the eye, you grasped your palms to hers and began “Lady Yeardley, that day I walked with S-“

You also bit back the thought of his first name, Samuel. That name you would silently whisper to yourself at night before you went to sleep. But you shook your head and corrected yourself.

“With Master Castell, yes, we were walking, but nothing dishonorable had happened. I swear to you, he was…” you continued.

You felt short of breath. Lies were impossible for you. And remembering Henry’s threats, illegal here. The Lady leaned to you and nodded patiently.

Taking a deep breath in, you began to recount that idyllic, almost secret, yet innocent hour.

Or that was about to come out of your mouth when Jocelyn swung by, practically butting in her hatted head like a horned goat butting a bale of hay.

“Why, Miss Y/L/N, I need to speak with you at once. Mistress, whatever are you speaking of with her?” she queried. Her voice was dripping as smooth as honey.

“Mistress Woodbyrg, you know that this girl was seen in public walking with your fiancée unaccompanied and has confessed to it?” Lady Yeardley asked.

You felt your teeth grit. How on earth would Jocelyn react to this? Would they find Samuel and then ask him what happened? Would you be sent to the stocks? Jailed? Worse?

“Why yes. I do know!” she said.

You felt your stomach dropped at how cheery she sounded.

Hanging it was.

“As a surprise wedding present, he decided to gift me with Miss Y/L/N to be my maid until we’re married!” she informed. A bright smile appeared on her so large, it could touch her earrings.

She told a bloody lie to the governor’s wife! She could get hanged in an instant if it’s proven!

“What about Mercy?” you blurted.

You remember seeing the little servant girl scurrying behind Jocelyn all the time, hopping across the dry sections of the mud like a rabbit or hanging on to Jocelyn’s or Samuels cloak to prevent dirt, though her own was caked at the seams. Though lately there was a slight red mark on Mercy’s cheek.

“Oh, she’s going to mainly work in Castell’s house to lighten her load. Another wedding gift,” Jocelyn coolly answered.

“But she’s asking me to be my maid!” Lady Yeardley responded, looking between you two.

Her brows furrowed in confusion and her nose went up. Yet you noticed how Jocelyn’s shoulders relaxed and her calm smile was still.

“Well, you know Miss Y/L/N is a silly fool and forgets so much, is it not? She even forgot her interview!” she chirruped.

She walked over to you and laced one white sleeved arm around yours, her pastel pink sleeve felt like ice compared to the hands of the governor’s wife.

“He only wanted to be sure it was a surprise. But I just figured it out, dear man!”

There was a stiffness in her eyes that dared your refusal by the pain of death. What if this was a trap?

But what choice did you have? If you said no, then it meant denying this was the reason you were in public with Samuel and there was only one other reason that Lady Yeardley would decide it was. A reason that would cost you dearly to confess in public with the woman he was promised to. Lady Yeardley might be able to keep a secret safe, but you weren’t sure if Jocelyn could.

“I…well…yes, I had forgotten. I’m your maid now. Do forgive me, Lady Yeardley, I am a foolish girl. I only wanted to be sure of my options” you agreed.

“I promise you, we’ll be like sisters” Jocelyn assured, looking at you with a wrinkled nose.

“Very good! Best of luck with your future here, Miss Y/L/N. I give you my blessing,” Lady Yeardley praised, oblivious to how you were feeling the color drain from your face.

Suddenly from the house, an infant began wailing.

“Excuse me,” she acknowledged before turning the door shut.

Jocelyn half-dragged your arm, to point to where she was staying until marriage (“The Pierces, good friends of Master Castell”), she then detailed each minute of her routine at a rapid pace. From which berry she preferred to eat to what songs she would prefer you to sing if she wanted to hear them to how her pillow should be fluffed before she laid down to sleep.

Head spinning, you counted each task on your finger of what was expected. Secretly, you longed for paper, ink, and quill just to draw out each chore.

Even more, a knowledge of how to write each chore and request. Not silly drawings. Real words in real sentences, like the very rich and educated people in London.

Glancing back at Jocelyn discussing matters of payment in her pastel pink gown and mint green cape, you bet a family that could dress their daughter like that could teach her to write.

You snapped back at the sound of Jocelyn’s smooth, low voice repeating the time you were to be there.

“Don’t be late. And…Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes?”

“There’s dirt on your face.” She reprimanded with a smirk.

It was a quiet supper later. Though you gave your reports of being a maid, Alice only smiled. She barely touched her bread. Then she excused herself and sat on your shared bed. Quiet tears were falling down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, it’s just…I was remembering Henry and…I just…I can still feel him on me, no matter what I do.”

“I understand, Alice” you soothed.

There was a loud knock on the door.

Jumping, You and Alice looked at each other with large, worried eyes. Her breaths were suddenly shorter, and her hands were shaking. Neither of you budged. You tried to look over where on earth you could hide Alice at a moment’s notice.

“Alice? Y/N?” an Irish tinted voice lilted. “Ya should bloody know me!”

You both Released your held breath. Walking over, you opened the door to see Verity’s slightly dirty, but stunning face.

“Verity! Oh, Verity! How good to see you!” Alice chimed, immediately going to embrace her.

Verity accepted the hug and squeezed her arm. A bit of cool night air rushed into your house.

“Verity, shouldn’t you be at the tavern?” you ask.

“I needed to leave fer a bit! ‘Sides, Y/N, I hadn’a seen ya fer a few days” she greeted.

She swaggered in, taking in the flowers and even picking up and sniffing a few. Her pale skin was glowing in the orange candlelight and her magnificent mane of copper hair seemed to glow too. Verity always seemed as bold, untamed, and free as her hair.

But her smile looked strained.

“Come, sit! It seems we haven’t talked in a year! I know you’re married to the tavern keeper now… How is your husband?” you asked, motioning her to sit on a chair at the table.

Verity and Alice looked at each other wide-eyed.

Recalling that day you left the ship, you recalled Verity’s husband did not collect her and how hurried and confused her brow grew as she stepped into town to find him. She seemed to shrink amid the relieved faces of happy women glad to find land and in some cases, spouses.

Verity walked over and plopped herself heavily onto the chair with a groan.

“Me husband? He’s piss drunk right now, what ‘e is. No diff’rent than any other night” she complained.

Getting up at once to the nearest clean plate, you offered her Alice’s bread, some goat milk, and some berries. Verity chewed on the food in silence. Then she began gulping down the milk so much that a bit fell onto her bodice and she wiped the remnants with her hand.

“Ye got anythin’ stronger?” she asked, looking at the white milky bits on her arm.

“No, not at all. There was a little ale I bought but…but it just vanished. Must’ve lost it somewhere” You explained.

Glancing at where the food and church rations were kept against the other wall in cabinets and a pot over a small hearth. Verity leaned over and shot up her eyebrows in surprise.

“It…doesn’a look much.”

Blinking away tears she popped another berry into her mouth as if it could give her the peace of mind a drink might.

“D’you know ‘e tried to whore me off me first week ‘ere, Y/N?” she confessed.

“No!” you gasped.

“’e’s a bloody scoundrel. ‘E even cheated so it wouldn’a happen. But still…And I…I thought maybe it could work, but I’m…I’m jus’ worried. What will ‘appen to me? E’ll jus’ drink and gamble and waste ‘is life away. How’m I gonna live?”

She grabbed a piece of bread, ripped it with ferocity, and then bit into it hard.

“Alice, did you know?” you whisper.

As she nodded, your blood went cold.

You felt your jaw clench at the thought. Nearly prostituted by her husband on a bet. A husband who couldn’t keep his head straight without getting drunk. Cheating? Gambling? This wasn’t what Verity deserved.

And you didn’t even need to recall Alice’s situation. At least while she was free, she could stay here, and it was illegal for Henry to enter. But not for long. Once she was married, she may as well be a sheep to his slaughter.

What could you do for Verity?

There was one thing…but it wasn’t much.

Without speaking, you left the table and kept your distance, listening as the two began to speak worriedly about how little their lives seemed to compare to the promises of the Virginia Company.

“A free land? Bah! Not worth it with men the likes of these! And Y/N’s free, but the company’s gonna insist she marry soon to pay everythin’ off! 150 dammed pounds of tobacco is too bloody much!” Verity ranted.

She turned over her shoulder to look at you and pointed, her brows lowered in worry.

“The time’s gonna come fer yer freedom and maidenhead whether ya ready fer it or not!”

She finished the berries by cupping them into her hand and pouring them into her mouth. You cringed at the thought of giving your freedom and maidenhead to someone like Henry Sharrow.

Looking over to your bed, you snuck your hand to the place under your mattress to your little leather pouch. Verity tilted her head.

Pulling the strings apart, you counted fifteen coins. You plucked out five.

“Verity, here, have some of this,” you said.

You press a few coins into her hand and cover her fingers over her palm with yours.

“But…That’s really her husbands!” Alice warned.

“He doesn’t have to know” you explain. “Verity, you can get yourself something to help you out, in any way. Food. Clothes. Shelter even. Anything to make your life bearable.”

Verity shrugged with a foxlike grin as she took off her shoe and hid the coins.

“I barely spoke with ye and ye already givin’ me yer earned coin!” she scoffed. “I’m just a low thief, I’m not worthy.”

“You’re smarter and braver than most ladies I know! You’re more than worthy! And you need this more than me. I’m working now, I’ll earn more.” you insisted.

Alice walked in, her eyes growing big.

“Y/N, are you sure about this? We’re already running out. And your eggs- this morning I’ve been counting and…we’ve only two eggs- someone’s been taking things from us!” she fretted.

She pointed to where the egg basket was kept and showed that indeed there were only two small eggs.

You shook away the thought of giving the money back and brushed Alice off.

“No, Verity, you deserve it. I don’t have much, but I could give you all I have if I could. Just know if you need help, come to me immediately and I will try to help. I have a house and money that’s my own. Alice has the Sharrows. But what do you have?”

Verity smiles brightly. No hint of slight sadness this time. She walks up to you and pats your back proudly.

“I ‘eard about what you said to Henry. Wish I could’a been there to see it meself. ‘E deserves worse, the bastard. Yer a kind woman to do that, Y/N,” she said.

“You met the blacksmith here? He said kindness kills people.” You recalled, thinking back to that morning not long ago.

Glancing at the window, you noticed a new set of primroses were there. The blacksmith sure was insistent!

“But ye did save me, and I could’ve killed me ‘usband. So that’s a life saved!” she joked before she said her goodbyes, opened the door and left.

After she closed the door, you sat back down, your pouch in your hands, and sighed. It felt dangerously lighter.

“I’m so nervous I wonder if I could sleep,” You confess.

“Oh, Y/N, you have no reason to be. I’ve been with Jocelyn on that ship, remember? She has her kind moments, you’ll see.” She said, placing a light hand on your shoulder.

Heavy rainfall lulled you both to heavy sleep.

The sky was blush pink, refreshed from the rain, as you dashed in that morning to the house. It was hard enough ducking the mud and animal dung on the streets while still tying your apron behind you. Recognizing the house where Jocelyn was staying twenty paces away, you froze.

The ground in front of it was covered in mud. A large pig laid down cooling himself in it. There was a butcher nearby salting his wares on an open table. They were bloody. And some blood seeped to the mud.

Seeing no dry place to hop across, you sucked in a breath and hurriedly stepped through the mud right to the front door and knocked.

The housewife answered. She was pale, very tall, green-eyed with a ginger bun, and was bedecked with dark red finery and lacy white gloves. You backed away a little.

“Oh, hello. Mister Pierce is away. Who...who are you?” the woman asked, frowning.

“I’m the new maid for Jocelyn, Mercy has been given a break” you explained shyly/

She stepped aside, gesturing you to walk in.

Looking around, it was an open room and very wooden. Wood floors. Wood walls. Sunlight flooded in as the only light. A desk stood in the middle of it and across from the entrance. It held two large, brass candlesticks and was littered with paper and ink. There were a few chairs and stools. Two windows were placed high up on opposite walls, but they were grimy. Candles were attached high up on wicks, unlit. As plain as your shelter.

“Excuse me, mistress…”

“Pierce. Mistress Pierce.” The lady answered, with a polite curtsy.

Curtsying back, you babbled “I’m Y/N Y/LN, and my mistress says she always needs me to greet her and then to eat in the morning.”

“Well, the kitchen’s there” Mistress Pierce pointed out to the left.

You scurried into a small kitchen separated only by a long, white curtain nailed from the ceiling. In the middle was a table with a basket where six eggs waiting to be cracked for breakfast. Sunlight drifted in, still gentle from the morning. But that and the fireplace made it stuffy. The whole place smelled of the oatmeal that was bubbling over the fire nearby.

“Where is she sleeping?” you ask.

Mistress Pierce points to some stairs nearby and ducking your head as thanks, you rushed up. And knocked on the door.

“Enter.”

Creaking quietly, your eyes scatter, finding the bed to your immediate right. You then stepped forward and curtsied.

It was a dark room. The window on the wall to your right had its shutters closed. It was all completely wooden from the walls to the beams and brown. There was even a table with a red cloth and a large chest on top. There were even a few places on the wall where there were candles. Two more desks you noticed were on either side of the bed.

Jocelyn was in her nightgown, her blond hair dripping in ringlets over her shoulders on her large, dark wooden bed with the biggest green, velvet, canopy curtains you have ever seen. Her lap and legs were covered by a large, pink blanket and white sheets. She crossed her long, white sleeves.

“I’ve been awake for an hour, where is my breakfast?” she demanded.

“It is…uhm…coming right up.”

Stepping downstairs, you tried to concentrate on what berries she liked to eat in the morning as to not mix them up. Returning with a bowl of oatmeal and some blueberries in a cup, you walked up holding the plate, trying to smile lightly.

But the stubborn frown on Jocelyn’s graceful face remained.

“You’re too slow…” she cursed.

Frowns were growing on your face as well. Folding your hands and looking down, you decided it was better to bring up what she would ask about now rather than later.

“Mistress Woodbyrg…I assure you, as you know, I did walk with Master Castell. And I am aware you are engaged to him. But I swear to you, he was chaperoning me so I could gather a few flowers just outside the fort for Alice Kett. It was his idea, not mine. He kept his distance as I picked and made sure I returned safely. He was only worried about me going out alone. He is a gentleman, as you know. Nothing improper happened. And…you can even ask him if you would like. He will give you the same answer” you confessed slowly.

Your heart raced as you looked up into Jocelyn’s stare.

She shrugged and nodded.

“Fine by me. I want this cleaned up. Now. I despise this room” she snapped.

Rushing down, ignoring how your legs were sore already, you grabbed a broom and some water and a cloth. Then you hurried back and at once got to work.

You began to sweep out dirt on the floor in silence. Sometimes Jocelyn looked down at the food before her, and sometimes at you. Placing the broom against the wall, you stood on your tiptoes to reach to open the shutters and let in light. It had a view of the dirtiest, brownest part of the colony.

“I…can gather flowers for you…

Jocelyn’s eyes stabbed into you.

“… with Alice. As a gift of thanks for your generous em-employment…would m-make the p-place brighter,” you added with a panic.

“Hopefully the flowers won’t be as ugly as you are, Miss Y/L/N. And next time, wipe your skirt and shoes before you come in,” she said.

I could take that mud and throw it at you right now.

But you threw the thought away. If one was locked in the lion’s den, then it was better not to provoke the lions and wait for an angel to shut their mouths.

She set aside her dishes on the desk at her right and wiped the crumbs and a few stray berries off the blankets.

“Sweep them,” she told you right as you dipped the cloth into the water.

Nodding, you gathered your broom and swept them off, you had barely put them away when you heard Jocelyn say something.

“Y/N…there is a dress over there in that chest that needs mending. The floors can wait.” She declared, pointing to a huge chest on the wall across from her bed.

You got up and walked over, seeing how it was filled with little bronze knobs scattered all over for decoration. Opening it, you saw a stunningly beautiful gown. Far prettier than anything you owned. It was golden with a bejeweled bodice and lace all around the collar of the neck. Checking it, there were only a few minor tears. It seemed to beam more with the drifting light.

Maybe it cost as much as half of your belongings. Looking up, Jocelyn tossed her curls from her shoulders and looked right into your eyes.

You placed it carefully in your arms, took the closest chair, took out the needle and thread you kept in your apron pocket and began to mend the tears in the skirt.

Recalling Alice’s words, you mumbled out “It will look beautiful on-”

“Better than it would on you. That will be my wedding dress.” Jocelyn interrupted with a smile.

Feeling fire in your eyes, a couple of tears betrayed you. You didn’t even dare to look up to see if Jocelyn would react to your reaction. You just breathed slowly and kept mending.

Perhaps this was a trap indeed. Was she dangling the fine things she had in front of you? Or even her marriage? If she tempted or tricked you to steal It and you somehow managed, like everyone thought maids did, it would be seconds away from the stocks.

At least one good thing will come from this marriage, I won’t have to work for you any longer…

“Do you know why my wedding was delayed?” Jocelyn queried, walking over to the window with a pink blanket draped over her shoulders.

“No,” you answer.

You turn the dress over, looking for any other tears.

“There was a sudden business venture he had to take up! He had to reassess the records for errors and adjust his work for the new influx of women and land! He has to work even at night!” She huffed.

You heard as the butcher outside began to slice something wet and thick open.

“This is the whole reason I am here! But, if I must wait, I will wait.” she sighed.

Keeping quiet, you inspect the dress once more before folding it delicately and placing it back into the chest.

“Make the bed for me, I need it neat. I don’t want it to be as rumpled as your dress” she barked.

I’m supposed to scrub the floors next, you little…

You focus your best on the action of turning it over, folding and unfolding the sheets, and every physical sensation. Just to get out of your thoughts.

Scrubbing the floors had to wait. She insisted you style her hair next, giving you exact instructions and attacking you with glares and a chide if you got a certain curl twisted wrong. After pulling her cream stays and tying them, dressing her in her pastel petticoats and skirts, and adding a blue hat with a small feather, she gave a curt nod.

Jocelyn insisted you walk with her to church, carrying her cloak up and back. Despite the minister’s droning, you felt curious and even surprised eyes look at how close you had to sit next to her. You even noted Samuel’s eyes looking at you and blinking rapidly. Your white coif seemed very humble next to Jocelyn’s feathered hat atop her head.

You both headed back to the house, her cloak raised as high as you could carry while your skirt got more mud.

Jocelyn blabbered a list of chores that made your head spin. The floor was not mentioned.

And then you ran to complete each one. Every press of water, every sweep, and every work of needle or knead of bread. By the time of the sunset, you had presented her with dinner in the kitchen. She sat down to eat, and you finally dragged your feet upstairs, and got the cloth in the water bucket to scrub the floors.

You first heard the loud growling of your stomach as you scrubbed fervently. Turning around, you heard a bit of wood creaking under someone’s feet.

“I’m not hungry. Undress me.”

You took off her hat and cloak and placed them back in their chests. Then you unlaced her stays and removed each skirt, petticoat, shoe (which, to your silent frustration, was muddy), and stocking, then you draped a clean smock over her head.

Jocelyn smirked at the sound of your stomach as she pushed her arms through the sleeves.

“Do you see the end of the desk to the left? There’s some food, water, and your money in the pouch.” You are dismissed for today,” she said.

Looking at the end of that desk, there was a white and blue jug of water, oatmeal in a bag, two apples, and two gold coins in a small pouch.

It was the water jug that sored the muscles of your arms where it lay, but you walked hurriedly at night. You were nervous if any local men would feel bolder at night. You set your eyes straight on the path to where home was, not daring to wander elsewhere.

Except you smelt tobacco and impulsively looked to your left.

But you did pass Samuel briefly, smoking a pipe next to Yeardley outside in the evening air, he gave you the kindest smile you had seen all day and bowed gallantly. You curtsied back, barely bending your knees, and then quickened your pace away.

Ugly…dirty…slow…

Alice woke up in the middle of the night to your sobs, as quiet as you tried to make them. But they came out before you could limit their strength, as well as the whimpers from your mouth. You had curled in a fetal position away from where she was lying next to you.

His image, Jocelyn’s words, and your reality were too clear.

“Y/N, what’s the matter?” she asked.

You didn’t turn to face her. Too many nights you were the one hearing her cry and trying to comfort her. You were the one awoken from her screams of a nightmare about Henry and had to shake her awake.

“I can’t tell you it’s…it’s ugly and dangerous, I…I think I’m committing a crime. But I…I can’t tell you!” you stammer through your hot tears.

And you knew if Jocelyn and Alice were on good terms, it was another ally for your friend, no matter what they did to you. Another person who could help Alice with her approaching marriage.

“Don’t be silly, you can tell me!” Alice vowed; she laid a warm hand on your shoulder.

“It involves someone you know. Someone you like.”

“Who is it?”

Turning around to face her drooping eyebrows and half-open lids, you shook your head.

“Let’s wait a month, and then I’ll tell you,” you promise.

She soothed your hair until your tears ended and you could sleep.

But by the time you woke up, Alice was gone.

She didn’t return the next day either.

Waking up by the third day your arms ached to even put your shoes on your feet. Glancing over at the egg basket, you counted one egg. Yesterday morning there were four thanks to your payment and you ate none.

Sighing at the thought of another exhausting day, you grabbed a bite of bread and an apple to eat on your walk and opened the door to go out.

Alice was immediately in front of you, her hair was out loose and blown from wind, her face was flushed.

“Oh, Y/N! Y/N! Have you heard? The whole town is talking! Henry’s dead!”

Head spinning, you took a few steps back and caught yourself.

“No…this is a joke!” you denied, shaking your head.

“It’s not! Henry’s dead!” Alice replied, her eyes widening and smile growing.

Glancing around, it seemed no one who was about town seemed to care much of what you both were speaking. Still, it was better to be careful.

“When…when did you learn this?” you ask.

“This morning, I rushed from the Sharrow’s to tell you…and…” she kept rambling, you could tell she was keeping from bursting into bits from her excitement.

“How did he die?” you hiss, interrupting.

“There was a fire on the boat he was sleeping on” she explained, getting the drift and leaning her head closer.

“It was so full of tobacco and gunpowder it caught fire. He didn’t jump out and swim. And it was a nasty fire, nothing remained!”

Almost not believing it, you just took her hand. In Alice’s eyes, there was a hint of wicked glee in their shine. But then it slowly faded, and her frown returned. Her eyes went to the ground, down below where the monster now seemed to be.

“I’m glad he’s dead” she spat.

You squeezed her hand.

“Me too. Alice, I need to go. Soon. Jocelyn hates it when I’m late,” You explained.

“Wait, I need your key for a bit.” Alice insisted.

“What for?”

You clenched your teeth in fear of what venom Jocelyn would release for another morning lacking punctuality by her terms.

“I’m taking my things. I’m going to live with the Sharrows.” She explained.

“What! Why?”

“Y/N, I…I owe them a debt. They are the reason I’m here. They have a farm and new land and need my help. And they’re…other than Henry, they’re my family now. They’re all the kindest people you’ve ever met. You’ve protected me from Henry best you could when they couldn’t but now that he’s dead…I’m free. I don’t need to hide. I can go out and do as I please now.”

She leaned over and her voice dropped to a half-whisper.

“I can even be with Silas, too. I think I may even love him.”

Handing her a spare key, you give her a quick hug before you hurry out to town.

“I’ll miss you, Alice. If you ever need help, if you have nightmares or anything about…you know what, run to me. Or Verity.” You wish as you release her.

Before you run, you see Alice embracing the key to her breast and waving at you.

Rushing inside, you give your curtsy, then scramble to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

You noticed the egg basket on the table. There were three more eggs than there was yesterday.

Swallowing your anger and breathing in deep with that thought, you worked up a little smile and walked up with the bowl of oatmeal to greet your mistress.

Jocelyn however, noted your entrance and breakfast with a scowl and a bit of “pig” as you gave her the oatmeal.

“I’m tired of oatmeal. Y/N, I need you to start gathering eggs for tomorrows breakfast, so it won’t be late again, and be sure to sweep up any dust in this room, I want it spotless! And oh, the laundry!” she listed.

She flounced over to a large woven basket where it was filled with her lovely dresses.

“You need to do laundry every day now. First off, go to the river and wash them. Every. Last. inch.”

“I…I will.” You answered.

“If I find a speck of dirt you will have to wash it again. Go to the river. I accept river water for washing, not the dirty well water. It’s illegal, anyhow. If I see any dirt, or see you washing it with well water, I’ll send you to the stocks, don’t think I won’t” she threatened.

Blinking away, you felt your arms groan from how heavy the basket was.

“Go, you idiot!”

Hurrying out, balancing with both arms and pushing the basket on your hip, you made your way to the river from a dirt path on the east of the fort. It was not a long distance. You could see that the wooden walls were only half a mile behind you.

Hearing the bubbling water and a few feminine giggles, you saw the river with several other women also washing. It was a clear, grassy area near the water and there were large trees and bushes around you. It seemed the land right before the river dipped into a small hill that would plummet some unlucky person. You sat by a secure area where you could easily reach in with your hands, pulled out the brush and soap, gathered the first green skirt you saw, and got to work.

Scrubbing and washing every elaborate layer of clothes ached your eyes and made your hands rough and red. Checking the large skirts for anything flawed felt like you were cleaning the sail of a ship. There were so many clothes, the basket tipped over and let them tumble out every time you set it up.

Some ladies turned up their heads and noticed how large your load looked compared to theirs. Some gave you worried looks before turning their heads down. You were so focused, it seemed none would converse with you. When you did notice someone next to you, you felt your pulse quicken and your mouth dry again from nerves of what to say. Once you did think of some topic, your silent “companion” had left.

Most women had left when you only scrubbed down four items, mentally marking what needed to be hanged. Sighing, dreading the thought of Jocelyn’s sour face and next insulting nickname, you turned to your pile to take the fifth item, setting up the fallen basket.

There was a lump moving around under a white petticoat. Jumping, you hesitantly opened it. A little brown face full of fur popped out from beneath. You cried with surprise, backing off.

But the animal that crawled out of the clothes and on top of the basket. It sniffed and kneaded the fabric. It looked like a weasel. It had a huge, soft black nose with whiskers and two black eyes amid a white face lining against its brown fur. Grooming its face with its paws, it then settled its soft, webbed feet over the silks and began to wiggle itself out of the basket.

It turned out to be longer and plumper than any weasel you have ever seen! Was it even a weasel? Who knew what the creatures of Virginia ate or could do? Even a small snake killed Eurydice.

The plump weasel made its way to the edge of the basket, letting it fall with the finery tumbling out. You waited for the creature to strike, backing away slowly as one did with bears.

But it stood around, sniffing the clothes and chittering. If it did eat humans, it seemed relatively uninterested in you. While plump, it was still small next to you.

Suddenly there were some footsteps behind you. They seemed heavy and short, perhaps that of a bear or maybe even some wicked rascal. Your skin crawled at the sound.

It was getting closer.

There was a large stick close by your feet. Calmly as manageable, you picked it up and swung it around from behind you.

Thwap!

“Stay back from me!” you yelled. Then you reached down, grabbed the dirt, and tossed it with all your strength.

Samuel flinched, though he was ten paces away as your stick swatted the air in his direction and ducked in time for the dirt to fly flat to the ground before it could hit him.

“Y/N! Y/N! I yield!” he cried, hands up in defeat.

“Master Cas…Samuel! What on earth is going on? You scared me!” you apologized, dropping your stick to the ground at once.

“I wanted to go on a ride in my boat to think and then I saw you…what are you doing here?”

“I was doing laundry and…this…this thing! It popped in the clothes pile!” you explained, pointing at the weasel.

It walked around, sniffing the more of the clothes that toppled out with it.

“Why is it I always catch you when you’re working on clothes?” he joked lightly.

“…You’re right!”

Giving in to the indulgence of laughter, you felt a smile grow on you for the first time in days.

“It doesn’t look dangerous! But…is it dangerous?” you asked.

You walked behind Samuel, using him as a shield.

He laughed a little.

“Y/N, that’s an otter! And I promise you, it’s not dangerous at all. It has more reason to fear you instead…” he explained.

It waddled closer to the river and stared up at you. You now noticed the gentleness of its black eyes, the softness of its fur, and how fast it was breathing in its big, black nose.

“Oh, I am so sorry dear fellow. You…surprised me��I didn’t mean to scare you” you cooed out, charmed instantly by its innocent face.

The otter looked at you, eyes shining, and then hopped into the river. You watched as it swirled and turned, showing the white mark on its belly. It floated peacefully away before dipping down and heading off.

“You strike well, at least! But is anyone here?” He looked out, eyes glistening a bit, but lids half-lowered.

“No, it seems every woman has done her laundry and left.” You sighed, looking after the clothes and putting them back into the basket.

“I’m a maid for-I’m a maid now. Just for a little while. I have so much to do and I wasn’t given a list to remember them all,” you said.

“Y/N, you could make a list.”

Turning a bit red, you looked down in shame.

“I can read, as you know, just not…write. Most of the women here can’t either. I just have to count on my fingers,” You confessed.

It felt horrid to explain this to a man who probably not only already knew this, but whose own purpose in the whole of the colony was to write.

“Well, you can always learn, if you’d like.” He offered; he even crouched a little to meet your eyes.

“Really? How?”

“You can try copying words from books but…where is the stick, ah! There!”

He stopped low, letting his long arms reach for the stick by your feet. You retreated your feet, suddenly aware of how close he was.

“If you have time, let’s start with the alphabet.” he began.

He showed you how to trace letters in the dirt, which you copied with another stick. His own were curved and clean, yours had shaken as you traced it. You kept repeating the shape and sound.

“X…Y…and Z?” you asked, checking his for where the lines pointed.

“Yes, that is how you do it!” he praised, observing the letters.

“Will you be here tomorrow at this time?” he asked.

That was the light of your servitude. Washing and the break from washing. When there were other women around, they made little bits of chatter with him or you. It was company enough to ensure it was not dishonorable or unaccompanied.

“Well, Master Castell, what is the matter ‘ere?” Verity asked the next day, leaning a small basket on her hip.

“Nothing, Miss Y/L/N is learning how to write a little,” he answered with a bright smile that matched yours.

“See Verity!” you cheered, “I can write all except for Q!” as you took your stick and drew smaller versions of the alphabet.

Verity leaned down, then looked at you both, and gave a half-grin.

It was a whole week of meeting amid heavy washing with a few minutes with Samuel to learn to write. On the fourth day, he began showing up with a quill, ink, paper, pen, and books.

“Miss Y/L/N, now you start writing words. Here is the word ‘you’” he began, holding a piece of paper against a book before you and writing the word on it slowly.

“And here is the word ‘me’…can you try that? We’ll start with simple words” he explained, passing the quill to your hand.

“y…o…u… and me looks simple, m…e…” you mumbled as you carefully copied his writing.

Then you double-checked each word and looked up to him, and he nodded his approval.

He showed you how simple words formed, even with the silent letters. By the sixth day, he showed you how to write simple sentences. He showed you how books often had corners or blank pages in the back to scribble on. Then in the evening, amidst eating whatever you had earned, you traced the letters and words you remembered and in your book on your finger.

On your books, you could write on them to practice miming the movements. It felt comforting without Alice’s presence in the evening.

On the sixth day, you were using a collection of plays and copying down larger, flowery words. You pointed and asked how to write the words “murdered”, “remembrance,” “madness,” “beauty,” “vision”, and “avenge.” It all seemed fantastical compared to the practical sight before you of half of the townswomen washing. Once you had pointed to the word “nymph,” you suddenly recalled something.

“I just remembered. I have your copy of The Faerie Queene, would you like it back?” you ask.

“I’ve no use for it but…yes, I do. Do…do you need your copy of The Metamorphoses?” he added.

He reached a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat.

“I’ve no dire need for it yet, so you may return it when you’re ready,” you said.

He was quiet for a moment. You looked down at the yellow paper and began to write the word “nymph.” Then he shot up his answer once you had written the stem of “h.”

“It’ll be ready in about…about five days. It’s a long book, and I’ve been busy, so forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Samuel.”

By the seventh day, you were using his copy of Paradise Lost in the back to practice writing the word “garden.” Both of you were sitting on the ground as you used his pen to put the last curve on the “n.” Once you looked up with an accomplished smile, you saw Samuel’s face had gotten dark and his brows were furrowed.

A cool breeze drifted by. Looking around, you and he noticed how there was no one else around. His posture stooped.

“I…I have told no one else than Jocelyn of this but...I have been asked to be a spy.” He confided.

“A spy!” you whispered; the thrill of a new skill forgotten.

“The governor asked me. I had to agree. Then Farlow, my employer, began to ask questions. He said that he wanted me to spy for him on the governor!”

“Goodness, you’re about to be everyone’s spy.”

Your hand curled over the paper, watching as the letters of “garden” were drying.

“I panicked. Then I said I refused to be a spy to Farlow. He then said I had to be his spy, or he would send me back to England.”

You felt a gasp escape you.

“Could he do that?”

“He could. I didn’t know what to do, so I asked Jocelyn for guidance…”

“What did she say?” you ask.

A little gust forces a cloud out of the way. It makes the sun spread its rays on the water, glittering as fine as any sapphire.

“Her idea was to give Farlow a fake tip, ruining his reputation.” He reported flatly.

“Even if it is Farlow, isn’t that a little cruel?”

Setting the book and paper aside, you looked right at him. You noticed how your breath was lighter seeing his angular, striking face.

“I refused. Y/N, I couldn’t do it. But she says I must do it. She says I must spy on both for the other! You see…somehow…she has her heart set on…”

He paused a little. He then released a held breath through his nose and whispered into your ear, careful of any possible listeners even in the bushes.

“On making me governor of Virginia…”

Your blood ran a little cold.

“How would that work? I mean, how does one become the governor of Virginia?” you asked with that same quietness.

Any hunger from your job was replaced with nerves of how close you noticed he was moving to you. You caught yourself leaning away but made yourself meet him a little closer. Bidding your legs to be still and not run off, you planted your weight firm on the earth and took note of each word.

“The governor is usually elected or chosen by the king. Or the last governor dies or retires.”

“Do you want to be the governor?” you asked.

He hesitantly nodded.

“Sometimes. The idea of it. I thought if I got people to love me. If I could help others and this colony…then I could be voted in. That’s how everything’s decided now. People here have the chance here to have a voice, and I could help them all. But then I see the reality. Spying? Lying? Ruining reputations? Y/N, is the title worth such deeds?”

The trees rustled.

“I have even seen people die here to get power. And not just from being executed.” He adds on.

He turned, looking at the water. Then he huffed in frustration. You took your arms and hugged your stomach. A bit of sunshine fell on your back, warming you.

“Then you don’t have to do it. Tell them all no.” You offered.

His head bolted around, and his jaw was a little slack.

“But…I…” he began to stutter a little.

“Well, what do you want, Samuel? Other than being the governor?” you questioned.

“I…I just want a simple life in this colony. A home, Safety. I…I want to be a father someday. A good one. I want to live here. Where it’s beautiful and I have a purpose and everything’s new.” he said.

He shrugged once he noticed your small smile.

“Well, I can’t have children. Jocelyn doesn’t want any. Or at least for now” he corrected himself.

Thinking over this, you folded your hands in your lap. The redness from all the work was starting to show and you could feel how rough they had gotten. It was nothing like the large, white, smooth hands he had.

“Then, at least, you should go to Jocelyn and tell her that it’s not safe to play this game and to let it go. And you can tell Farlow you would rather be back in England then spy if you’re feeling brave. He may have been just scaring you into it,” you suggested.

He looked right at you and then you looked down into your lap, your cheeks were hot.

“Samuel I…I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t budge into your business.” You apologized.

Backing away a little, you noticed how close you were leaning to him, nearly to his face. It may have miscommunicated something.

“Don’t worry yourself, I gave you my business!” he said.

“You will respect her wishes about children, right?”

“Why of course!”

“If you respect her wishes, why shouldn’t she respect your wish for a simple life? A marriage is supposed to have compromises, even a friendship needs compromises.”

“Well…it’s a little silly- we aren’t even married yet! Are you sure?”

A cloud moved over the sun.

“Absolutely. Then say you will not be a spy, you won’t ruin anyone’s reputation, and that you will not become governor of Virginia by those actions. It will be hard but…something can be figured out…you can find a way to compromise. You should tell her it’s not safe. People have died. You don’t have to do anything that threatens your life…” you reasoned.

He nodded and his face grew lighter. It was as if the sun out on the water was now shining from inside of him.

“I’ll tell her when I see her later today. Thank you, so much, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome.”

Your hands twitched a little and your mouth went dry. Then he turned to look at the white, blue, and yellow gowns toppled over near the basket.

He got up from sitting and then turned to see you from below. He noticed your blue skirt still blooming around you.

“May I help you up?” he offered.

You gave a little nod with your eyes wide.

He reached out his hands and, though pulling back a little at first, you reached for them with a light grip. You noticed the stains of ink on his knuckles and fingernails. But they were warm, smooth. They were soft, too, almost like gloves rather than skin except for the very fingertips. Strength pulsed beneath that softness from what you could feel. Feeling the tightening of his arms to help pull you up, you were lifted to standing.

He held your own hands still for only a few seconds. You could feel his pulse.

There were birdsong and a flutter of wings from the tree above you. A cloud moved away, and it became sunny again and the river gurgled in approval.

Once he released a little bit, you willed yourself to pull your hands away, retreating demurely to your stomach while he lowered his. Yet inside you were buzzing slightly from that small sample of his skin.

“Do you need me to escort you home, Y/N?” he asked politely.

The tight lips of the local women haunted the back of your mind again from the flower picking day. And Lady Yeardley’s warning.

“Sadly, no. Besides, I don’t want to keep your lady waiting for her clothes…”

“Oh, I forgot. Y/N…I apologize for any inconvenience.” He said with something that could only be described as sadness before he walked back to the colony.

The next afternoon, Jocelyn said all her clothes were clean. There would be no laundry to do today.

Instead, she had given you a list of shopping that needed to be done as she spent her hours in the Boarding House and that could not be managed at once! As you walked out, reading the foodstuffs, you took note of how pressed and small her handwriting looked. Something she must have practiced as a child.

But as soon as you entered the heart of town, bustling with dogs trotting by and men and women scuttling around, some smoke from a near fire for cooking cleared up with wind. You saw Alice amid it. She wore a blue dress with a pink shawl draped over her shoulders, holding a basket.

She noticed you and walked over. Her large eyes looked blank.

“I…I can’t marry Silas” she confided in you.

“What!? Why?”

“They’re in debt because of Henry paying for me and…he can’t, he can’t afford me. At least not now. We have to pay them back” she mourned. There was a crack in her voice.

A hundred and fifty bushels of tobacco to purchase a wife was not cheap. And the Sharrow’s were not rich.

“Alice, follow me” you implore.

She nodded as you went back to your house and gestured her to follow you inside. You slipped your hand beneath your bed to pull out your pouch. It now felt a little heavier.

“Alice, here, take this.” You order, handing the pouch to her.

“What? No, I couldn’t!” Alice begged.

“Don’t take all of it, just some of it!”

Alice chewed on her lip as she opened the mouth of the pouch and glanced in. She immediately closed it and handed it back to you.

“Y/N, it’s your money!”

“And it’s your future! And I want you to be happy- you can save it up and pay for the debt and marry who you want! I’ve seen you suffer enough here. More than anyone on earth deserves. But this! This is what you deserve!” you insist.

You open the pouch and pour out all the gold coins you had saved and earned.

Hesitating, she finally takes half of what you have.

“You will come to me every day when you can…” you direct sternly.

“Y/N…”

“And I’m going to give you half of what I earned. And don’t you dare refuse it. I’ll find the Sharrows farm and throw it in the window if I must!”

“You’re already giving some to Verity” Alice reminded you.

She even looked back at the door, in case Verity’s small, curly-headed figure would magically appear through.

“Someone among us has to stay a spinster. If no one even in Jamestown wants to marry me, I may as well make your lives here bearable.”

“Oh, Y/N, that’s not true! Someone will come along…”

Feeling your feet curl under your shoes, a forbidden thought of Samuel’s smiling face and his blue eyes flashed by.

You shook your head.

“I…I don’t…It doesn’t even matter. Just take it and save it.” You finish.

Tears welled up on Alice’s face.

“Y/N, I don’t know how I could bear it here without you. When you’re ready, tell me about what’s troubling you. I want to help you too.” she said.

“Please wait, then I’ll tell everything” you begged before walking back to town to shop.

And at once you both left, laboring even when evening came.

Downstairs, Jocelyn entered her thankfully temporary home. Master and Mistress Pierce were sitting by the fireplace, chatting.

Eyes away.

Walking over to where your water jug was, her eyes narrowed on it. Tonight, it would be half of your total payment. She bent over so her cloak would hide her hands, lest her hosts turn around.

From her reticule she retrieved the bottle she swiped from the doctors. She poured some into the jug and buried it back in her reticule Taking a deep breath, she set the jug her right hand with a pouch with your payment in her left.

Looking out upstairs into the window, you noticed the sun had dipped down and a dark blue blanketed the small roofs of the colony. Finishing a last good scrub of that always dirty floor, you noticed as Jocelyn walked upstairs and opened the door. She was decked in a light green cloak, complimenting her pink dress and green hat. She looked like a pastry amidst this brown. Shiny pearls bedecked her bodice and ears.

“Have you supped, Mistress Woodbyrg?” you asked.

You stood up on your knees, placing the washcloth in both of your hands.

“Yes, with Governor Yeardley. He’s about to be the groomsman…It will be the most beautiful wedding. There will be more flowers than one could count!” she answered.

Her eyes scanned over the floor and you almost flinched, feeling some insult threaten to bubble. But none came. Her eyes returned to you, shining.

“I’m happy for you, Jocelyn. It will be lovely” you complimented graciously.

Though envy bubbled in your head at the image, it was safer to offer the olive branch. You still always remembered Alice’s words. She has her kind moments, you’ll see. It’s what Alice would have wanted you to do. Or what she would have done.

“Y/N, I have your pay here, it’s a little smaller than normal.”

She handed over the water jug in one hand and a pouch of gold in her other hand.

No more morsels to steal from my roof, then? You thought bitterly.

Muttering a tired thanks, you pocketed the payment in your apron and took the water jug.

“Do you need accompaniment?” she asked softly.

A little taken aback, you looked up. Her face appeared warm. Despite whom it was, it seemed better than just heading back at night alone.

“Why, yes. I, uh, I would” you answered.

“Mercy’s afraid of the dark, it makes her tremble…does it do to you?”

“A little.”

You lit a lamp downstairs, handed it to Jocelyn to hold, and both of you headed outside. The sun was in the last stage of setting and a deeper blue blanketed all over the town. Once your house was in sight, it was getting darker and the blue over the town was fading to black.

When you reached your home, you heard Jocelyn clear her throat and turned around.

“May I come in? I…I need a bit of water. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“Why, of course,” you said.

Balancing the heavy jug currently in your grip, you dug in your pocket for your keys and opened the door.

Once you had settled the jug down on the table and scurried to light candles in the hut, you could feel Jocelyn’s eyes pouring over the lack of any grandeur of your small house. But once your last candle was lit, her eyes shone.

She stepped around, staring. Not in apathy. But from how her head gently perched and her lips parted, it seemed to be curiosity. She gently touched the petals of a wilted wildflower and eyed an unclean dish. She peeped over to the corner window and noticed a slab of pink sticking out.

“Oh, those primroses! They keep appearing each morning! It’s James, I bet. He probably doesn’t know Alice is on that farm yet set on marrying Silas, poor man! He’s in love and won’t confess it” you jested.

You leaned out and admired how the flowers glowed against the reflected candlelight and soft starlight above.

“Aren’t they lovely?” you said happily.

After a slight pause, she turned her head to meet yours, a little smile placed on her ivory face.

“Very” Jocelyn replied. Her voice sounded a little hoarse.

You brought out what was Alice’s cup and poured a generous amount of water in. After you handed it, Jocelyn nodded in thanks and drank, her eyes down. Then you poured in only a little. You didn’t want to appear greedy in front of her. Even if she was starting to soften to you.

You took a sip.

“It’s sweet.”

“The water from east of the river is very sweet. Thought you would like it.” Jocelyn commented.

She was smiling larger now, her lips were soft and shining.

“Do you need anything else? You’re a guest” you asked.

“No, I…I need to go home.”

“Alone? And not without me undressing you?”

“I’m too tired. And I’m a fast walker. No need to fret. I have this lamp.”

“Oh, well, good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Jocelyn finished as she shut the door behind her.

You turned over to get your dinner and practice your writing. But as you reached on the table for one of your books, a sudden sensation hit you. You were dizzy, nauseous and your legs were shaking. Blinking quickly, seconds passed, and it wouldn’t go away. When you tried to pick up the book, it shook in your hands and tumbled down on the floor.

It was getting stronger. Your legs were failing you and you grabbed onto the table for support, pulling up.

A memory of what was said on the ship hit you. What Jocelyn did. And how.

You pulled yourself on the table, as if climbing, and grabbed the spare cup Jocelyn was given.

There was only a small lip mark on the edge of the cup. The water was intact. You clutched your throat and shook harder than you could control.

Breathing hard, you rushed to race out the door. Screams flew out of you.

“Help me! Someone, please! Anyone! Help Me!” you bellowed with all of your strength.

It wasn’t much. Only two steps outside and your legs gave out and everything went black.

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