#turn fic

Hey, y'all! In case ya missed it, I updated two new chapters to my multichap Abby/Andre fic, "See Me." Sofia Wylie is fancast here as my OC, Minty from Chapter Five.

The Alchemy and Dragons AmRev fantasy novel is still alive, but John/Abby has me in a chokehold. I have so much lesson planning to do for the next couple of days because I should be taking a little trip to Canada. Simcoe Country, whooooo! I'll keep ya posted, friends.

Chapter Four- Abby and John cross a threshold, but she retreats.

Join or Die: a Turn AMC Fanfic

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Speaking of pity, Selah pitied Miss Smith for whatever cruel mother had bade her to dress as she did now. The achingly atrocious yellow she donned and the equally yellow finger-pleated ruff choker felt as though her maid despised her. The ruffles and ribbons in her hair were overwhelming, and thankfully, the four of them sat in silence. It was clear Susannah was itching to say something, but Hannah would poke her with her embroidery needle every time it looked as though she might finally speak. Selah did not mind the silence, getting lost in the Aeneid’s pages once more with his tea and saucer resting upon his knee.

“Tell me, Miss Smith,” Hannah’s sweet voice broke the silence as she pulled the thread through the handkerchief in her hoop, “Do you play any instruments?”

“Oh, no,” she said, “I find musical instruments to be the most horrible of sounds. All that plucking.”

“Again, why must you say such things to me?” she thought, and tried answering back with her eyes. “Damn you. What a terrible, unbearable man you are, John Graves Simcoe. Damn you, damn you,” Holloway cursed internally, as he let go of her chin, took her hand and brought it alarmingly close to his lips. The tentative gesture served as another stark reminder of his danger to her: while she could try and put up as many barriers and lines of defense as she could think of, she hadn’t figured out a way to stop him if he had already decided that he was hers. And he had; Holloway could see it in the eyes she found herself transfixed by.

Rating: General audiences. The whole fic itself will be Explicit.

Relationship: John Graves Simcoe/Original Female Character

Word Count for chapter 6: 6.3k words

Slight! Out of context spoilers ahead, but I came up with/wrote this in preparation for *gestures to ongoing events* and actually like it, so I hope you all enjoy:

“Miss Walker,” Benjamin began— he waited until the Headquarters' door shut, and they were out of Washington’s domain. He looked back, once, and then he lowered his head slightly, as if she was more than just three inches shorter than him. "I have something I must ask you."

Elizabeth blinked. “Major, you’ve already apologized, I cannot imagine what else you need to say to earn my forgiveness-“

“It’s not that,” he said. Another glance. “The soldiers were dragoons, weren’t they?”

“Yes,” she answered. Yesterday’s knots returned, tied in her chest with stronger rope, cold hands. Do not cry. Do not make it worse. She looked at the ground. “They were. Their helmets had skulls on them, Major. It- it was as if they were staring at me.” She swallowed. “I’m sorry, I- I am still frightened.” Washington was right: she needed to go home, rest in her own bed, and let dreams vanish the thoughts of soldiers and smoke and blood. Even now, she wondered how close they were, if they remembered her face, her voice, her body…

The British men had touched her, gotten so close to defiling her, yet she would stay in a ballroom for years if it meant she'd never again have to see the evil in their eyes, inhale the smoke from their guns and feel their cold steel on her skin. What was a kiss compared to the gaping hole left by a bayonet?

"I know," Benjamin said. All too gentle-- God, he looked like he was going to be sick, and regret overtaking his features, jaw clenched, pity reflected in his blue eyes. Do not pity me, she thought. But it was all she wanted yesterday. Pity. "If you wish to stop after today-"

"I said I will not." Will, not wish, not want. Will.

"Then we shall send extra protection," he said. "Men hiding in the woods-- your Pennsylvania riflemen, if they're available. I'd prefer my own men, though. It's a shame Seymour and his fellows went to Trenton."

"Do not worry. Captain Tilghman has good aim, and I trust him." Maybe you'll have your own solution. She'd write a letter to her father's steward, his contact in Lancaster--

"It's for my own sake, too, Miss Walker." He looked at her, "Until I am able to protect you myself."

She was so tired, nerves so tight, she chuckled. "And when will that be, Major?"

"When we meet the British in battle, and I cut down every dragoon I see."

Oh, Good Lord.

A promise she knew he'd keep. She saw it in his expression, his eyes focused, sharp like the saber at his hip.

"You will not be thinking of me, then," she said, her voice hushed.

He smirked. "I disagree. I have a great memory."

The door opened behind them, boots on the stone steps. "Tallmadge!" Hamilton shouted, "The General isn’t done with you!"

Tilghman brushed past him, adjusting his cape. "And he wants me to escort you home, Miss Walker!"

"Go on," she told Benjamin.

"Miss Walker."

And then, like the night at the Tavern, before they truly knew each other, before she got a taste of the world around her, he bowed his head, took her hand in his, and kissed it.

She watched him disappear into Headquarters' frantic trap.

An apology, a threat, and a promise.

The very last chapter of my Ben’s-love-letter-to-Anna fic ‘My Dearest, My Anna” is up on AO3 - “Epilogue II″. It introduces a new character and adds an interesting twist to the effects this letter has caused and will cause...

Thanking my beta @meretriciouslyloquacious for her valuable help - and thank you for everyone who read, enjoyed, liked and/or commented! 🥰

A Big Fat Mood™️: Giving Ben and John Andre all the fluff and TLC 💞 in the world

Ha-ha, thanks for sharing! And yes, one must know the characters from 'Turn' to truly appreciate it - and Ben here made me cackle for sure... Thanks, Nonny! 😆