#if I wanted to get real angsty with it I could say that verse 1 is Buck in this scene | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

guqin-and-flute · 3 years ago

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Are You Here to Stop Me? --Ch. 6 [Peony to Lotus!Verse, Yaoli]

[So, someone commented last chapter ‘I hope we get a breather soon!’ And I was like ‘you know? That’s a great idea.’ So it’s only super lightly angsty at the beginning, easily fixed and the rest is just A-Yuan being delightful. 👐 You’re welcome. Also, it’s been a couple days since WWX’s chapter, A-Yuan doesn’t have a great sense of time, as a child, so I wanted to make it clear that it’s been about a week since the Wen arrived.]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [First post in Peony to Lotus Verse]

[Ao3 Series]

A-Yuan was lost.

He was at the market near Lotus Pier for the first time and he had been staying close to Xian-gege, just like he said he should, holding his hand or pulling on his belt or wrapped around his leg. It was a hot and sunny day, the air all soupy. They trotted around for a little bit, looking at the different things people were selling; sometimes it was clothes or umbrellas, inside stores or out on carts or tables. It was loud and colorful and it smelled like food and people and sometimes like animal poop that made him wrinkle his nose. Xian-gege had been chatting at him, talking about the places he used to go when he was around A-Yuan’s age with his Shijie and Clan Leader Jiang. It had been fun, even if he was getting all sweaty from the sun. It had always been a lot cooler up in the mountains! He missed them a lot and hoped that they could go back soon. Or maybe they could grow mountains here? That would be nice! He liked the people at Lotus Pier, and all the people left from Dafan Mountain were here, now, so all they were missing was actually just the mountains. Maybe then it would be a new home?

When they had stopped in the nice shade of a cart tent and tree to talk to some man Xian-gege knew who hadn’t been selling anything interesting--pots or something--A-Yuan had spotted a toad. (Spotted a spotted toad! A-Yuan had giggled to himself.)

It was dark and big and polkadot and sitting right by the side of the road and everything. It had golden, bulgy eyes and it’s white throat had been wiggling, just watching the people go by. It was kinda cute, in an ugly sort of way and he had wanted to pick it up. But when he had let go of Xian-gege’s belt to bounce over, it had hopped down further into the grass. So he had followed it just a couple steps and it hopped again, closer to the tree. Suddenly, A-Yuan had a thought--that maybe the toad had a little house in the tree, and if he didn’t catch it soon, he would miss his chance totally. So he waddled behind it all bent over, hands out as it scrambled and jumped and flopped away in the grass.

Finally, he managed to pounce, grabbing its weird, cold and lumpy body in his hands that were careful not to squish too hard--but he thought that maybe he did anyway because it right away peed all over him, which was super gross and kind of funny.

When he turned around and tramped back up, he saw that Xian-gege had moved just a bit down the road, dark robes swishing as he turned this way and that, probably looking for him. So he trotted after with his prize through the crowd, grinning, until he raised it up to shove up at Xian-gege because it would be funny and he would probably say something hilarious and make a funny face. “Gege, look!”

But when he had turned around, it wasn’t him; it was some stranger in dark brown instead of black like he thought, squinting down at him and making a gross-out face. “What?”

A-Yuan had taken the toad back real quick, tucking it back to his chest, eyes big and bulgy, just like the toad. All of a sudden, the market sun hadn’t felt just hot anymore, but like the brightest light was shining right on him, like everyone was looking right at him. When he looked around, there were no pots sellers or Xian-gege’s or people he knew anywhere. Just him and his toad, next to a loud food stand he had never seen before in the middle of the forest of grownup legs and butts. When he turned around, he saw that even the man he thought had been Xian-gege had left him behind.

Alone.

So now, he swallowed hard because it felt like some of the dry dust rising from the stone street was all over his tongue, making his tummy squirm like the toads kicking legs.He kind of knew why it had peed when a weird stranger had picked it up and he felt really, really bad for teasing it cause it must be so scared. Scooting to the side of the road, he put it back down watched it scramble hop away as he wiped his toad-pee hands on the grass, then his robes as he looked around, trying to listen for Xian-gege’s loud, happy voice complaining about how much things cost or calling his name. But everyone’s accent here sounded like Xian-gege and it was so so loud, he couldn’t hear anything but strangers talking about people he didn’t know and things he didn’t understand. And what he did understand wasn’t helpful at all, like the guy yelling about youtiao or the lady calling into the street about her perfume bags.

He didn’t know this big town, yet, not like Dafan Mountain where he had known everyone and everyone had known him. Back when he had walked with his mama and dad and sister around to the auntie’s shops and he had gotten sweets. They had only been here in Lotus Pier, like, a little bit of days. And Auntie Wen Qing had told him to be careful and not tell anyone that he was Wen. Could they tell? Did he look like a Wen? He hugged himself super tight and stared into the crowd, his tummy rolling and rolling in knots. He really wanted his mama, right now. She was dead, but he still wanted her more than anything.

“Didi? Are you alright?”

A stranger lady in a pretty pink robe stopped right next to him and bent down but he didn’t know her and he didn’t want her, he wanted his mama or Xian-gege or Auntie Wen Qing or Grandma Wen or someone he knew, so he clamped his mouth shut tight and hurried off down the road, away from her. He was starting to wish that he had kept the toad. He felt super tiny and all alone, even if there were people everywhere. Maybe having the toad to take care of would have made him feel braver.

And then, right when the scared was starting to bubble up into tears in his eyes and he couldn’t see so well, he spotted purple at the end of the road. Purple like Lotus Pier people. Purple like Clan Leader Jiang wore. Right now, he would take grumpy, kinda scary Clan Leader Jiang over weird, super scary strangers. So he blinked his tears away and ran as fast as he could, weaving in and out of grown up legs, not daring to yell in case he had some sort of Wen voice, hoping that the purple didn’t disappear into the crowd like Xian-gege had.

The tips of his shoes were a little too long and they kept catching on the edges of some stones as he ran, and he almost fell twice. When he followed the purple robe right around the corner, he saw that it wasn’t actually Clan Leader Jiang, but Auntie Jiang Yanli’s husband, Jin-something-guy. A-Yuan hadn’t gotten to talk or play much with him since they’d all been here, yet, but that didn’t matter to A-Yuan! He’d finally found someone he knew! Without slowing down, he rammed straight into the grownup’s leg and held on like one of those burrs that got stuck to his robes when he went for a walk in the forest. An, “Ah!” came from above him as the man twisted around to see what had hit him from behind.

“Gege!” A-Yuan gasped, sweaty face buried in his smooth purple robes as he tried to get his breath back in the sticky air. “Gege, I am lost!”

“I don’t--A-Yuan?” the Jin Guy sounded super surprised. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Being lost!” A-Yuan peeled his face back and stared up at him.

“Goodness. Well, not anymore, luckily,” he replied, eyebrows raised, a gentle hand coming down and patting A-Yuan on the back of his head, behind his ponytail. “Who or where did you get lost from, A-Yuan? Here, let’s find a place to sit. You look like you’ve been working hard.”

Taking his hand, the Jin Guy led him back down the road a bit to a bench in the shade of a huge tree with a really wide leaf hat that covered half of the shops and carts near it. A-Yuan super appreciated this because he had been working hard and he was all gooey from sweat. When they both sat, the Jin Guy reached into one lapel, pulling out and flicking open a pretty black and gold fan in one move with a fwwwp. Then, he started puffing air at A-Yuan’s face, which felt really nice. When he grabbed for it, the Jin Guy smiled and let him take it and flap it all around--everywhere but his face.

Wow…fans were harder to work than they looked. Kicking his feet back and forth in the air, he gave it back so the Jin Guy could make it work right, remembering to say a “Thank you,” like Grandma Wen always told him to.

“Mn,” The Jin Guy replied and started fanning A-Yuan’s face again. “Who were you out here with, A-Yuan? Don’t tell me you’ve wandered all the way from the Pier itself?”

Leaning his face even more into the breeze and closing his eyes, A-Yuan answered, “No, I’m inna market with Xian-gege. But then he lefted! I turned around with the toad and he had just lefted!”

“The toad,” the Jin Guy repeated, in a friendy, smiling voice. “I see. Well, why don’t we let Xian-gege know where you are, hm?”

Laying the fan on his lap, he reached back into his lapel and pulled out a strip of paper with some writing on it and held it between his first two fingers. Slowly, the paper started glowing and curling and shrinking. A-Yuan felt his mouth drop open. This was the coolest paper he had ever seen! It started getting see-through, like little bugs were eating holes in it, until the Jin Guy turned his hand over, palm up. In the middle sat a sparkling, golden, glowing, see-through, magic butterfly, gently wiggling its wings back and forth. “WHOA-WUH!!”

A grandma passing by looked down at them with a frown because he shouted, but next to him, the Jin Guy just huffed out a laugh through his nose instead of telling him to calm down. “I take it you like it?”

“Yeah!!”

“Well, this butterfly can carry messages of your voice and go where I send it.”

A-Yuan clambered up so he stood up on the bench and grabbed onto the Jin Guy’s shoulders for balance, peering closer at the magical little thing. “That’s the coolest magic ever.”

“Mm, it is very handy.” The Jin Guy let him grab onto him and lifted the butterfly a little higher so it was closer to A-Yuan’s face. “Go ahead, I’m going to send it to Xian-gege so he can find us.”

So…the butterfly would repeat his voice? Suddenly, shyness raised up inside his throat at the idea. It felt like everyone on the street was watching him again and he felt kind of silly and goofy. So he squirmed around, ducking his head before leaning further onto the Jin Guy and smushing his face into his shoulder. “Grmmrmrrgrmgrmrmr,” he mumbled.

He was squirming around on his feet so much that the Jin Guy raised his arm up to steady him, chuckling. “What was that?”

“Grrmmrgrrmrrmmrmrr.”

“You’re going to have to talk into the butterfly, A-Yuan,” the Jin Guy said, voice still laughing a bit.

Picking up his face, A-Yuan squeezed his eyes shut and half yelled, half laughed in the direction of the butterfly, “Come and get me, Xian-gegeee!”

When he looked over to see how he did, the Jin Guy nodded and patted A-Yuan’s back where his hand was. “Yes,” he said dryly into the butterfly, “Come and get him, Xian-gege.” Then, he tilted his hand and the butterfly fluttered, flapping about in the air.

A-Yuan got so excited that he hopped down from the bench onto the grass and reached up with his hands. It circled around his head, making him giggle, and then slowly, with just a flap or two, wobbled around the back of the bench, leaving a trail of gold sparkles. A-Yuan scrambled after it. For a few minutes, he followed it, around and around the bench, laughing and hopping his way after it and trying to jump up to touch it. But he kept his fingers gentle and open, in case he did actually bump it. He didn’t want to squish it for real or anything. The Jin Guy just watched him from where he sat on the bench, leaning back a little on his arms, a small smile on his face. Then, he called A-Yuan back and lifted him back up to sit on the bench, the butterfly suddenly floating up high and fast, flapping away above the buildings.

A-Yuan was panting again from his running around, so the Jin Guy started fanning him again. “That was the coolest!” A-Yuan exclaimed, grabbing onto the Jin Guy’s purple and gold sleeve as it wiggled around from his fanning. “Can you make it change colors?”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it! Hmm. Perhaps. Not with any of the talismans I’ve already made, unfortunately. What color would you like it to be?”

“Gold is cool! It was just a wonder. Maybe…blue? Or red?”

“An interesting choice! I shall have to consider it. Feeling better?”

“Oh yeah!”

“Are you hungry?”

A-Yuan tilted his head really far to the side, thinking, then nodded really big, once. “Umm…a-yeah pro’lly.”

The Jin Guy looked around at the stalls near them, thoughtfully. At least some of them looked like food people with hissing and crackling things in woks and ovens. “Hmm. Let’s get you something when Xian-gege shows up, how does that sound?”

“Yeah! You’re a nice gege. What’s your name again? I forgotted.”

The Jin Guy looked back at him with eyes crinkled up and little dips in his cheeks when he smiled big. “My name is Jin Guangyao.”

“Oh! Can I call you Yao-gege?”

Just as he was nodding, they both heard a big shout from down the street in a familiar voice; “A-YUAN!”

Xian-gege was shouldering through the crowd, following the sparkly golden butterfly that flitted over people’s heads. He was breathing all deep and hard, his hair looking a little crazy. The butterfly floated over and perched on A-Yuan’s nose, making him squeeze his eyes shut automatically. When he peeked them open again, little sparkles were fading in front of his face. Before he got time to be sad, Xian-gege skidded to a stop in front of the bench and grabbed up A-Yuan in his hands, squeezing him tight to him in a hug. “Where on earth did you go, you little brat?! I turn around and you’re gone? What did I tell you before we left! I ought to hang you by your ankles from this tree! I ought to throw you in the lake! Tell him, Yao-ge!”

From still sitting on the bench, Yao-gege raised an eyebrow at Xian-gege, but didn’t tell A-Yuan anything. A-Yuan began giggling from all the threats and wobbling around, flopping in Xian-gege’s grip, ‘cause it was kinda funny, now that he had found people again and wasn’t lost anymore. “You lefted! I just saw a toad.”

“A toad?” Xian-gege demanded, taking a break from shaking A-Yuan around to rest him on his hip.

“It was big! I picked it up to show you, but you lefted!”

“Well, where is this toad?”

“I let it go, I felt bad.”

When he took both their hands and towed them back up the street he had run down to Yao-gege--it really seemed much shorter and not as wide, now--it wasn’t there anymore. “A shame,” Xian-gege said, putting his hands on his hips, staring around into the grass. “It sounded marvelous.”

“It was,” A-Yuan said confidently, even though he wasn’t sure what that meant. “It peed on me.”

Yao-gege covered a snort with his hand and then cleared his throat. “Perhaps we can find you somewhere to wash your hands.”

“Okay. I don't like being lost,” A-Yuan added, glancing between both of them, in case they got the wrong idea. Being lost was no fun at all.

Xian-gege scoffed. “I can't think of anyone who does.” A-Yuan nodded at this, satisfied.

“We'll be more careful, next time,” Yao-gege added, looking over at Xian-gege with both his eyebrows raised, this time and a thin smile. “Won’t we?”

Xian-gege huffed out a breath, but knelt down and tugged at the bottom of A-Yuan’s robes, straightening out where they were kinda bunchy at his belt. “Both of us will, eh, A-Yuan? No more getting lost in the market nonsense, right? Did you thank your Jin-gege for rescuing you?”

A-Yuan couldn’t remember if he had, so he turned and stuck himself to Yao-gege’s thigh again, grinning up at him. “Thank you, gege, for rescuing me!”

Again, Yao-gege patted his head, just like he did the first time he had grabbed onto him, smiling all crinkly again. “You’re welcome, A-Yuan. I’m just glad you weren’t lost for very long. How about that food?”

The rest of the market trip was a bunch of fun! After Yao-gege bought him and Xian-gege some refreshing mung bean soup to cool off and some youtiao, he wandered with them, always holding one of their hands and sometimes holding both, walking between them. A couple of times, Xian-gege convinced Yao-gege to swing A-Yuan high up into the air between them, and A-Yuan shrieked and laughed the whole time, legs kicking like he could kick a hole in the sky. They even looked at a little cart that was rolling by that sold toys, and Yao-gege let him pick out 3 things. A-Yuan chose a little fan made of flat bamboo, a cute folded butterfly on a stick, and a wooden sword, just like the one that Clan Leader Jiang and other grownup cultivators walked around with.

This made him pause and eye his gege’s hands. They didn’t carry swords with them. “Are you cultivators?” he asked, leaning forward to look at them both, one hand holding Yao-gege’s and the other clutching his new toys.

“Yes, we are. Why do you ask?” Yao-gege tilted his head down at him as they walked away from the stand and back into the loud, hot crowd.

“‘Cause you don’t carry swords.”

Xian-gege said nothing, but Yao-gege just answered, lightly, “Do either of your gugu’s carry swords? Si-shu?”

Hmm. He thought about Auntie Wen Qing and Auntie Jiang Yanli and Fourth Uncle. No, they didn’t. Actually, none of the other Wen did. “Okay!” he answered brightly, then added; “You can hold mine, if you want to.”

“That’s very kind of you, A-Yuan. I think we’ll let you have your turn first, since it’s so new.”

That made a lot of sense to A-Yuan.

As they walked, people would call out to the grownups--especially Xian-gege, but some of them knew Yao-gege, too--and they kept stopping to talk to people. Sometimes, they smiled at A-Yuan, too, and asked him his name and offered him little bits of food, so A-Yuan got to eat some sort of meatballs on a stick, then sticky candied fruit, then buns, and then a little bit of the fish on a stick that Xian-gege got himself. By the time Yao-gege was buying something at a weird and smelly shop that had so many drawers and jars behind the counter, A-Yuan was so full that he could barely even walk anymore.

He had been quiet, playing with his toys through the last couple of the stores they went through, the grownups talking about and looking at and buying grownup things. A-Yuan was trying to be patient. But they had been here for so long and his feet hurt and his tummy hurt ‘cause it was so full and it was hot and he didn’t wanna walk anymore and he was bored. “Can we go home?” he whined.

“Tired?” Xian-gege grinned from so tall up above him, leaning against the wall as they waited. “You promised to be my market buddy today.”

“Yeah, but that was a lot before my feet hurted so much. I’m tired. I wanna go home.”

Xian-gege clicked his tongue but reached down and swung him up onto his hip. Then, he strolled up to Yao-gege as he turned back from the counter, tucking his magic, bigger inside bag back onto his belt. “Is some of that for you? You’ve been going pretty hard yourself.”

Yao-gege smiled and shook his head. “No more than you have. Will you finally let our good doctor look after you, then?”

Rolling his eyes, Xian-gege hefted A-Yuan up higher. “Look, if she was that worried, she’d have already tied me up and stabbed me with her needles. I’m fine. Got everything? You know you could send a servant here to pick up at least this. It’s a prescription, anyone can hand it over.”

Leading the way back out into the noisy street and hot, hot sunlight, Yao-gege shook his head, making it spark off his shiny silver guan. “I would rather be thorough and sure. One…never knows.”

“Hmm.” Xian-gege’s easy, teasing smile suddenly left his face, and he glanced up and down the street, as if he didn’t care much. But his eyes were sharp. “This is true.” Then, all of a sudden, he lifted A-Yuan up and plopped him down on Yao-gege’s shoulders without warning either of them. “Here, he’s so warm, he’s like a little hot stone. Eugh.”

For a second, all A-Yuan could do was cling to Yao-gege’s head with a squeak, trying to keep a hold of all of his toys and not fall off at the same time. Yao-gege made an annoyed tongue click, swaying to a stop and raising his hands to grab A-Yuan’s knee and side to keep him steady. Then, he turned and looked at Xian-gege, who was grinning and turning away already, announcing, “Back home we go!”

Sighing, Yao-gege wiggled his shoulders a few times until A-Yuan sat without anything poking him uncomfortably or feeling like he was going to fall off and wrapped his hands around A-Yuan’s ankles. “Comfortable?” he asked, his voice vibrating up like tickles from his shoulders under A-Yuan’s legs.

“Yeah! It’s so tall up here!”

With a short hum-laugh, Yao-gege patted A-Yuan’s foot and set off after Xian-gege. “Make sure to hang on, please, I don’t want you to fall.”

It was still bright and hot, but up higher, closer to the bright blue sky, it was a little more breezy. And he didn’t get nearly as hot when he wasn’t walking. Yao-gege’s walking was nice and even, not like the bumpy and scary horseback ride he had taken to get here. A-Yuan shivered at the memory. He never wanted to go on a horse again.

The wind actually almost took his butterfly away, so he tucked its stick carefully into the bun that stuck up through Yao-gege’s guan, pushing it through so it would be safe. He was leaning around trying to tuck the sword into his belt when Yao-gege asked underneath him, voice patient and amused. “And just what are you doing to my hair?”

“Butterfly! It almost flew away.” Now that his hands were free, he could practice with his new fan, so he did, trying to flap it on him and Yao-gege so they would both be cool.

“Ah, I see.”

“Wow, Yao-gege, I love your accessory,” Xian-gege grinned, slowing his steps on the dirt path down so he could walk next to them.

“Thank you,” Yao-gege said in a totally different voice, now, all flat and annoyed. Xian-gege only laughed and poked at A-Yuan’s side, making him laugh, too.

“Wuxian, you shouldn’t harass him--”

“Oh, he thinks it’s funny!”

Yao-gege just heaved a sigh and shook his head, making it turn this way and that under A-Yuan’s hands. It got a little quieter the further they got from the town, but there were still people and houses everywhere. As they passed, a lot of them nodded and smiled, waved or said a ‘hello’. Only a few people ignored them and only, like, 3 gave them weird, dirty looks. Soon, A-Yuan could smell the lake, green and wet and fresh and just a little gross in the so hot day. Maybe he and Fourth Uncle could go swimming again! His tummy gave a little twinge. Maybe later he and Fourth Uncle could go swimming. Right now, he just wanted to sit somewhere.

They walked a little bit more, both his gege’s chatting together about things he didn’t pay attention to when he started to be able to see the tops of the Lotus Pier buildings over the houses and trees. He liked Lotus Pier. A-Yuan had never seen a house so big. Auntie Wen Qing said it wasn’t really a house--but people lived there, didn’t they? What else could it be? It was like a big house made of smaller houses inside a big wall. Maybe a village? He hadn’t seen all of it because he wasn’t allowed, but he played around some of it with his Wen Aunties and Uncles and Xian-gege.

He had been afraid of Xian-gege when he first saw him again--he remembered when he had come gotten them all from that cold, dirty place, he had been so shouty and scary and tall. And then they had all been riding horses for days and days and days, so he hadn’t gotten any time to know him. But then, he had played with A-Yuan and dunked him in the lake until he coughed up the water, and made silly voices and so he was his Xian-gege now. Maybe he had been having a bad day when he had first met him?

Anyway, Lotus Pier was different from Dafan Mountain, and the place they had just run away from a couple days ago. Here, he could take baths and swim and eat whenever he wanted, and he had his own soft bed in Auntie Wen Qing’s room! Lotus Pier was nice and warm, with lots of water and flowers everywhere. He still missed Dafan Mountain, though, almost as much as he missed his mama and papa and sister. He missed the tall, tall trees and the fort he had made behind his house and how big everything was. You could see for so long, like you were on top of the world! Here, the sky seemed a little smaller, all flat with trees up everywhere.

They were starting to change colors, the trees--he sort of remembered they did that, a long time ago, but wasn’t expecting it to happen again here. He thought that was a mountain thing, but maybe it was just a tree thing. When he found a couple of the leaves on the ground, were so bright, the yellows and oranges and reds. But when he brought them back to the nice smelling room he shared with Auntie, he found them all brown and crumbly the next day. He was so sad that he cried. But one of the nice servants heard him talking and showed him how to press flowers and coat them in wax so they stayed colorful forever. A-Yuan thought that was so cool and had started a collection under his bed of them.

A lot of the Jiangs he saw were nice, like the servant lady who showed him the leaf trick. Some of them ignored him when he said ‘hello!’ There were only a few kids that he had seen and they didn’t talk to him, much, watching him around corners and running away giggling when he asked them to play. Maybe they were just super busy, like all the other Jiang people here.

As they walked along the long, white wall and got to the pretty carved lotus doors, he asked Yao-gege, interestedly, “Are we going to go see Jiang-gugu?” They were married, after all.

Yao-gege glanced up at where A-Yuan was peering down over the top of his head and smiled. “I was going to drop off her medicine and stay if she was awake, yes. Would you like to see her if she feels well enough?”

“Yeah!”

Auntie Jiang Yanli had been really nice on the ride to Lotus Pier and when he saw her again for the first time, yesterday, sitting in a comfy chair with a back in the shade with her maid-girl. She had been really tired and sick all the times that he had talked to her, but she was always nice and asked him about the sort of things he liked to do, so he liked the chats they had had. They hadn’t played, yet, but hopefully they could soon! He could let her hold his new butterfly.

Xian-gege said that he had to get back to work and left them after poking A-Yuan’s sides a few more times until he laughed so hard he almost fell off. Because he was still up there on Yao-gege’s shoulders, A-Yuan had to duck going through a pretty set of doors into a warm, comfy looking sitting room, then again going into a dimmer bedroom that had him blinking green and red haze from his eyes from the sunlight outside. It definitely smelled nice in here, like pretty flower incense. When he could see better, he could see it looked nice, too. Auntie Jiang Yanli smiled up at them from where she was tucked into a bed with tall posts on all four corners and floaty white cloth draped between them, tucked up out of the way. Auntie Wen Qing frowned from where she was sitting on the side of it with her doctor’s box closed up next to her. “A-Yao, A-Yuan, hello,” Auntie Jiang Yanli murmured as Yao-gege lifted A-Yuan from his shoulders and set him down in front of Auntie Wen Qing. “I love your hair ornament,” she added to Yao-gege with a sleepy grin.

He huffed a laugh through his nose with a smile back and slid the butterfly on a stick free from his hair. “It belongs to A-Yuan,” he let her know as he handed it to her to look at and went around the bed to go sit on the other side.

A-Yuan clambered up into Auntie Wen Qing’s lap, flapping her with the fan--he was getting really good at it. “I got lost!” he announced.

Auntie Wen Qing frowned deeper and looked sharply over at Yao-gege. “What happened to Wei Wuxian?”

“There was a little mix up, but from what I gather, he was only lost for a few minutes before he saw me down the road and came running. We met up with Wuxian later and walked back together,” Yao-gege smiled all calm at her, petting a hand down Auntie Jiang Yanli’s hair. “Here, they had all of it,” he added and unwound his magic bag from his belt, offering it out to Auntie Wen Qing, who took it.

“Yao-gege saved me! He sent a butterfly and Xian-gege came running!”

Auntie Wen Qing looked like she didn’t know what she thought about this story and wrapped her hand around his to stop it from flapping in her face. “No more, please. A-Yuan, if you’re ever lost, you need to stay right where you are, so we can find you again. Never go wandering off, especially with a stranger.”

“Yao-gege’s not a stranger.”

“I mean in the future. Just ever.” She sighed. “Perhaps it’s best if you stay in Lotus Pier. Trips to the market….” she trailed off, face worried and thoughtful looking. Then, when he wiggled, said, “A-Yuan, if you’re going to stay, you mustn’t move around a lot, alright? Jiang-gugu isn’t feeling well.”

Obediently, A-Yuan was careful when he clambered onto the light blue blankets on the bed from her lap so he didn’t upset the box of doctor things next to her. “But the market was super fun!”

Yao-gege smiled from where he sat next to Auntie Jiang Yanli, but put a finger to his own lips and tapped, so A-Yuan sucked his lips into his mouth and didn’t say anything else. “I’m glad it all worked out alright,” Auntie Jiang Yanli said, all tired and quiet, even though she smiled at him. “Here, A-Yuan.” Leaning up a bit, she gave back his butterfly.

Yao-gege scooted over to her and stroked her hair, murmuring, “It got worse again?”

She nodded and snuggled up a little closer to his side. “Tired. Mostly.” She coughed behind her hand, deep in her chest. “I was doing well this morning and started fading just a little while ago. Qing-mei wanted to check me again.”

“I’m still concerned about how slippery your pulse is,” Auntie Wen Qing said as she unlocked her box and tucked the bag Yao-gege had given her into a little slot, laying a few things out on the bed.

Yao-gege tucked himself behind Auntie Jiang Yanli and helped her heave herself up from the pillow, a little floppy, like she was too tired to sit up. When Auntie Wen Qing took her pulse, it was quiet enough in the room to hear the frogs croaking and the birds twittering outside the closed window screens. A-Yuan knew better than to be loud when someone was doctoring, so he just sat and fanned his butterfly in silence.

“What could that mean?” Yao-gege asked, quietly. “The slippery pulse.”

Auntie Wen Qing flicked her eyes to him and pressed her lips together before looking back at Auntie Jiang Yanli, who smiled weakly. “A-Yao is allowed to hear all about my diagnosis. There’s no question I mind being asked in front of him.” She nuzzled into his shoulder. “He is an uncommon husband.”

Auntie Wen Qing tilted her head, then, and answered, “There are a few things it could mean but I want to run a few more tests before I’m sure.”

Then she did other things, stuff with looking close at her eyes and Auntie Jiang Yanli sticking out her tongue and stuff, but A-Yuan didn’t pay much attention, even when they started chatting. He let his mind sort of wander away, around Lotus Pier and other toys he might get next time in the market. Where was Xian-gege working? Maybe A-Yuan could go ask to swim with him, soon. His tummy was already feeling better now that he wasn’t so totally too hot outside, plus it was cool and nice smelling in here. Auntie Jiang Yanli said something about pickles and A-Yuan wrinkled his nose. He didn’t like pickles. He flapped his fan harder and his butterfly spun a little, when he held the stick lightly.

“You had talked about them yesterday, as well.” Auntie Wen Qing said, slowly.

“Mmn,” Auntie Jiang Yanli nodded. “I’ve been wanting them. Does that mean something?”

Dancing the butterfly around in front of him, A-Yuan wondered if he should paint it red or blue. Both? That would be cool.

“...What day of your cycle is this?”

A-Yuan didn’t know what that meant, but when he looked up at the silence, Auntie Jiang Yanli and Yao-gege went really still at the same time, their eyes getting wide. “I’m…it’s always been…rather irregular,” she finally answered, faintly, hand going up to press over her tummy.

A-Yuan felt like all the grownups had forgotten all about him sitting quietly on the end of the bed, all eyes on Aunt Wen Qing, her eyes on Aunt Yanli. “If you had to estimate,” she said, firmly.

“Ah…” Auntie Jiang Yanli turned with her still big eyes to look at Yao-gege, who was starting to look like he had been hit over the head with something really heavy, still staring at Auntie Wen Qing. His hand was squeezing Auntie Jiang Yanli’s other hand, down on her lap. “Maybe…somewhere in week…4?” Even though she looked really startled and tired, a smile was slowly starting to spread across her mouth.

Well, A-Yuan was wrong, because Auntie Wen Qing turned to him from across the bed and smiled a little, raising her eyebrows. “A-Yuan, why don’t you go find popo or si-shu. You can tell them all about your adventures.”

Aww, but he had wanted to tell his aunties about his adventures. Oh well. They probably had grownup things to talk about and he wasn’t all that interested anyway. As he slid off the bed and waved behind him, he brightened up. Maybe they could go swimming! At this happy thought, he started skipping.

#Outsider perspective with kids is so fun cause you're like 'Important plot moment' and they're like 'this is boring what's for dinner?'#peony to lotus #yaoli #my stuff #my fic #Anyway ENJOY cause we're back to some angst next chapter :D #Not totally horrible it's actually starting to wind down and even out but it's gonna be EVENTFUL

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holified · 2 years ago

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1. When are you usually online? My working schedule has been so awfully overwhelming that the only free time I have is on the weekends, but sometimes I’m so exhausted I cannot even write anything, although I’m often lurking here on Saturday and Sundays nights.

2. What verses are you involved in outside of this page? I have a blog for Sakura Haruno, so every once in a while you can catch me there, but it usually depends on whether my friends there are online or not. As for my verses here, I most use my “alive” verse, and I have recently been able to use my Yu Yu Hakusho verse thanks to some amazing new friends! I also have a special verse in which Kikyo and Kagome are sisters with my beloved Rarity, and a Sesskik verse that I absolutely love.

3. What is your biggest RP pet peeve? I’m a pretty laid back person, so it’s hard to anger me (or so I believe). But I suppose I could say my biggest pet peeves are when people try to pressure me into writing/doing something or when people start drama over small things. I have seen so many people arguing over stuff that’s just... so stupid! Dunno, I’m just too tired to deal with people right now.

4. Are you drawn to specific types of muses? Hmmm, maybe I am? I think it has changed over time, but I LOVE an angsty/misunderstood character. Powerful, complex women that are often mistreated by their writers bring out my fire to write. I need to like and find the character interesting to write it. Oh! And I don’t write male characters, dunno, I just don’t feel comfortable, I’ve had blogs for male characters before but they were always short-lived.

5. Are there recurring themes in your writing that people might not notice? I don’t know, maybe? I LOVE shipping threads, like, omg I’m a hopeless romantic and all the romantic love I don’t have in real life I seek in my writing. But I also love an adventure and I LOVE angst so... I’m not sure which theme could be considered “common” in my writing.

6. What are your favorite RP trends? Hmmm... I think the return of big icons, some time ago it was SUPER cool to have tini tiny icons that were overly saturated and were just a blur of colors that was impossible to decipher. I never understood this trend tbh, to me icons provide a visual reference to your character’s expression, the scene or to focus on a particular aspect of your character’s face/body language, so those impossible-to-understand icons were absurd! Anyway, but enough complaining about old trends! I think the new aesthetic trends are pretty great!

7. What is your process for starting a new story with someone? Good question, I usually just IM them or we start writing and go with the flow. I like this organic kind of writing, where ideas pop up and you move along with them. Planning is great, and having a general idea of where the thread will go is amazing, but discovering HOW it will get there is so... rewarding!

8. How do you feel about duplicates? I’m incredibly insecure, so I avoid duplicates not to compare myself and end up abandoning the blog for thinking I’m not good enough :|

9. How long have you been involved in roleplaying? Oh my, here is where you discover I’m a dinosaur on Tumblr. I’ve been writing on tumblr for around 10 years, and I’ve never written outside of this website, I think I wouldn’t be able to roleplay outside of tumblr at this point.

10. Is there a muse or verse you wish you could write in, but haven’t? Oh, quite a few! But alas, I have no time to write the muses and verses I do have, imagine writing new ones! But one day I want to make a couple more blogs for one or two muses I’d like to give a try!

tagged: @thuganomxcs — thanks so much! ♥♥

tagging: literally anyone who sees this!

#┈ ┊ To learn through suffering; to thrive in chaos || ( musings ).#┈ ┊ Out of shrine || ( ooc ).#I love these! Thanks so much!#I feel like a famous person being interviewed hahahah

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ravipanikkar · 4 years ago

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This is a list of my favorite Buddie fic, they’re in no particular order and I’ll add as I found new one. I’ll post only finished fic, the ones I’ll read over and over, with a little summary by me and a couple of tags. Hope you like them as i did!

One shot

Live in Me, Jerusalem [AO3] by @matan4il [ AO3 | Tumblr ]

3,175 words 1/1 chapter

established Buddie | nsfw | Jewish!Buck | Catholic!Eddie

This is just a little snippet of a world in which Buck and Eddie are a couple and Buck is Jewish, with all the heaviness of the hate he received as a kid. There are 4 part of the series, each one focusing on a part of Buck and Eddie's relationship but with a strong focus on religion. This one in particular is about a specific part of Buck life as a Jew and how he opens it to Eddie. And they have sex, yes.

I love every fic by matan4il, and this one is easily my favorite.

Gentleman Callers [AO3] by lesbianettes/ @milkymarjan [ AO3 | Tumblr ]

10,487 words 1/1 chapter

british!Buck | nsfw | there's some plot

This one is really nsfw. Eddie's feeling pretty lonely in LA after the move and calls a sex line, where he meets Evan. Yes, here Buck as an English accent and this is a good 50% of the reasons i love this fic!

Yes, there's sex here too, mostly phone sex and I have to admit it's very well written!

Other notable work from lesbianettes it's Curves and Edges.

Oh Captain (My Captain), Our Fearful Trip is Done [AO3] by @princessfbi [ AO3 | Tumblr ]

22,873 words 1/1 chapter

established Buddie | hostage situation | angst and hurt

What would happen if a band of bud guys enter the station? And then kidnap Bobby and Buck? What if Buck is so tired and sick that he can't almost stay awake? Ever wondered how the firefam would do if they have to watch Buck being hurt? Then this fic is for you!

It's extremely realistic in the most adrenalinic scenes and even in the sweet one ( I love my dad!Bobby, okay?).

I'd love to add some other works from Princessfbi but not only i can't choose, i just added more to my list!

Frequent Flyer [AO3] by red_to_black / @redtooblack [ AO3 | Tumblr ]

13,464 words 1/1 chapter

Buck is not a firefighter | still unlucky as always | a nsfw scene but not buddie

Buck is still trying to find his way so he changes job like every day, almost, but his bad luck keeps following him. And every time he, or someone for him, has to call 911 here comes the firefam, with Eddie. In this fic there are a lot of different scenes with Buck in needs of help, not always for himself and one time he's naked, that are amazingly thought and written, with the best firefam.

I, Hildy is another of my favorite fic by red_to_black

an unplanned proclamation [AO3] by autumnchills/ @lovebuck [ AO3 | Tumblr ]

1,909 words 1/1 chapter

coming out story | loving firefam | technically not buddie

This is really easy to describe: Buck comes out to the firefam. But there's so much more! How he feels, the anxiety, the fear and the love! It feels like a rollercoaster in the best way possible. Highly recommend to every LGBTQ+ people that need something good.

This is the only fic I read from autumnchills, so as soon as I catch up I'll add something here

Multi chapters

maybe one day i'll fly next to you [AO3] by spinningincircles/ @tylerhunklin [ AO3 | Tumblr ]

35,914 words 8/8 chapters

Skating AU | nsfw

Buck and Eddie are world famous figure skaters and they hate each other. Okay, not for long but the progression of their relationship is sweet and lovely and yes angsty but aren't we here for that?

This fic is one of my favorite AU, the firefam is so close and strong as ever, especially the Buckley siblings. I loved loved Buck and his feeling for the sport, for his own worth. Definitely a good read!

I love spinningincircles dabbles series, lots of one shot that i have yet to finish because i don't want to or i'll have to wait for more!

Oh, well. [AO3] by @justapoet [ AO3 | Tumblr ]

19,091 words 4/4 chapters

Poet!Buck | hospital | suicide thoughts

Buck finds a way to cope with his life and it's writing poems in his little notebook. And he is really really good at it! The poem not the coping so much 'cause we know (or should I say the good writer is justapoet technically?). But he never shows them to anyone, until Eddie and Maddie find them, all of them, especially the last one.

For Buck is like having his heart in their hands, and they are the best hands that could handle it, right?

This fic is sweet, and hard, the poems are so heavy with all Buck feels. I loved the "And?" at the end (you'll get way) because in that single word i felt everything.

justapoet wrote only another buddie fic and it's I adjust the spring for you to follow me with your eyes which everyone should read right now!

Series (technically not completed but readable as one shots)

White House AU [AO3] by buddiebuddie/ @buddie-buddie [ AO3 | Tumblr ]

191,910 words 15 works (but one is like 30 chapters and going)

White House AU | no firefighters | nsfw

It’s an ongoing AU with Buck as the President of USA and Eddie as his bodyguard, and so much more! The firefam is there, Maddie and Chris too.

I love politics and this fic is the perfect mix to one of my favorite OTP ever and the White House universe.

The Tremor 'verse [AO3] by Nibbles84/ @eddie-diaz-buckley [ AO3 | Tumblr ]

22,365 words 6 works

Established Buddie | NavySEAL!Buck | chronic illness | nsfw

It this AU Buck and Eddie are married, the first is an ex SEAL and the second is the firefighter, but Buck as also a chronic illness. It’s not an easy series of fic, is hard and heavy with real life problem for the both of them, but the love, the sweetness and the support they have for each other is astonishing!

the outsider's pov, navy seal!buck au that got out of hand [AO3] by coupe_de_foudre/ @a-beautiful-struggle-of-life [ AO3 | Tumblr ]

8,339 words 6 works

Established Buddie | NavySEAL!Buck | external POV

This series is about a well established Buddie, even married in some, and there’s also Shannon! But it’s from an external point of view, 5 from Ana and one from Abuela. This series as everything, not much angst but I’m not complaining, from the sweetest Christopher ever to Buck and Shannon relationship.

- other to come -

#fic rec #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #ao3 buddie #buddie #911 fic #firefam #sorry for all the tags but i wanted to do a list for a long time #i couldn't find 2 authors on tumblr i'd love some help #if you don't want the tag or else just dm me and i'll fix it right away!#this is just my love and appreciation for all the writers of the fandom even the one i didn't put here #i read all this fic at least twice #and if you see a spelling error or other mistake just dm me cause english is hard!#mine

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lovee-infected · 4 years ago

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hi geo ~!! (◠‿◠✿)

so i haven’t really done this before, but i have some theories involving twisted wonderland and i’d like to share with you and everyone else here !

➺ i theorize that dire crowley might be a decscendant of diaval; the raven from sleeping beauty, maleficent’s loyal pet.

➺ dire crowley has a very eccentric air and he can be irresponsible, manipulative. i theorize that he knows the leaders were going to overblot and he just lets it happen/leave it for yuu to deal with. (possibly a mastermind or he’s just very dense and doesn’t pay attention to it all.)

➺ lilia mentions that he used to be a war commander? if that’s what i heard correctly. if that’s the case, and malleus/silver are orphans. there could’ve been a possible war between the faeries and humans. both of their parents have died and lilia covers this from silver. he may have also been around when maleficent was in power.

silver may not be aware of this, and they placed a sort of sleeping curse on him (unknown) but i theorize this and that it links together somehow. this could also be a reason why sebek dislikes silver and is degrading towards every human he meets.

➺ i theorize that idia carries a lot of guilt and regret over his younger brother, ortho. either he or someone else in his family (possibly hades himself) had jealous envy over ortho, similar to how the movie hercules went.

➺ i theorize that idia and ortho are the children of hades OR they are just related somehow, because they are a spitting image. if that’s the case, they might be immortal, possibly gods or even a demigod...

➺ it’s still hard to tell who might overblot in the diasmonia dorm or why. it could be malleus, i’ve read theories that it’s lilia. that something terrible happens to silver or even Yuu and they are sent over the edge because of this. either way i feel this chapter will be the darkest..and the most tragic/saddest one.

www I'm glad you decided to drop by babe!! And when it's a theory discussion it's always a YES for me~

1) There's a chance of Crowley being partly inspired by Maleficent's crow! I'd say the crow reference is very strong because it resembles two of the very important characters within the Disney's villains verse at the same time: Maleficent's crow and Evil Queen's crow. BUT- after nearly two months of investigation and trying to figure out what Crowley might be up to, I'd say he's mainly twisted from Evil Queen's crow!

The thing with Crowley is we still can't tell if he's the villain of this story or not, at some point all of our theories saying how much of an evil mastermind he is might turn out to be wrong! But, his aura is mysterious enough for us to know that 1) He is up to something important & 2) He is not as stupid as he pretends to be.

2)Yup! It's confirmed that Lilia used to be a general back in the war as he's still one of the strongest magicians of the valley of thorns.

Regarding the war, there still isn't much we know about it but I'm like 99 percent sure that Lilia adopted/ found Silver during or a while after the war was over. That also makes a perfect sense since we need explanation for both: why Lilia adopted Silver and why he wishes for nothing more than he wishes for peace!

Can't wait to learn more about this infamous war in chapter 7...

3) Honestly whenever I try to theorize either Diasomnia or Ignihyde's backgrounds I end up having mental breakdowns- Seems like it's indirectly confirmed that the Ortho we know and see in the story is nothing but a robot, not a half human. Seems like the real Ortho is already... you know.

Actually I think Ortho resemblances Hercules's incompleteness; Hercules lost his immortality, while Ortho lost his life.

Idia also happens to come from a rich yet infamous family that almost everyone knows about them, so even Idia is not much less than a celebrity but on the cursed side of fame-

4) Diasomnia's literally the household of pain, the angsty potential with this dorm is scarily high and even Malleus's birthday SSR story was more of a reason to cry rather than a happy chance to get to know him. I know that Twst's just teasing us with Dia 'cause they want to keep the best parts for the very end...Diasomnia's plot is more like a room filled with dynamite that can explode at any second- no wonder why they chose Diasomnia's chapter to be the very last one of dormitory stories...

#answered #kisngdom #twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #Silver #sebek zigvolt #dire crowley #idia shroud #ortho shroud #tw/death

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river--glass · 5 years ago

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Reylo Fic Recs Long Ass Fics pt 2: Alternate Universe

Someone asked for fic recs 100K or over, so here they are. See Pt. 1 for Canon Verse or Alternate Canon Verse fics. (I haven’t read all of these- my personal comments are in bold)

Equilibrium by AttackoftheDarkCurses & thebuildingsnotonfire. (modern, E, 479K)

When Rey works up the nerve to ask Grand Master Luke Skywalker to train her, she makes friends and finds something deep and wonderful in the martial art known as Taekwondo.

She never thought the choice would change her life.

Alternatively, a (long) story of love, family, and Martial Arts.

The Heartbreak Prince by diasterisms. (Harry Potter, E, WIP)

I swore I would never read Harry Potter AU’s or Works In Progress, but for this fic I broke both rules. This is, pun not intended, so magical in every way. It has me SHOOK and if somehow you haven’t heard of it yet, do yourself a favor and check it out!

In Living Memory by SpaceWaffleHouseTM. (multiple times, E, 221K)

Ben and Rey are rendered immortal after being struck by lightning at the precise same moment, and keep running into one another as the centuries drag on. Waffle’s stories are all amaaaaazing and you need to read ALL of them.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot by SageMcMae. (modern, E, 214k)

MMA fighter, Kylo Ren is suspended from the league and sentenced to community service at his uncle’s martial arts academy. There he meets Rey Niima, a recent graduate with a natural ability and incredible potential.

Soul Searching by OptimisticBeth. (AU, Modern, E, 205K)

A Soulmates AU in which Ben is horrified to find out he’s soulmates with his 16 year old student, ten years his junior. (no underage shenanigans) This fic fucked me up. The world building is so stunning. The story is rich with love and fluff, but oh the angst. Soooo much angst and emotional anguish and two people who are trying their best but just can't communicate for shit. The overall story is so beautiful and worth every heartbreaking moment. A happy ending WILL come!

Satan Wears a Rolex by AquaWolfGirl. (Modern, E, 205K)A Devil Wears Prada AU. Unfinished, but it’s fascinating and it ends well where it is.

Hiraeth by Ferasha. (1990′s, E, 204K)

An absolute angst and pain train of a historical war fic. This is not a comfort fic. It will fuck you up. But if you’re into that, the way they’ve woven canon plot in with the Yugoslav Wars is a masterpiece. It’s dark and gritty and will make you feel things.

Le Fin Du Fin by QueenOfCarrotFlowers @leofgyth. (Victorian, E, 196K) A Crimson Peak AU!!! This writer has never let me down.

A Proposal by Any Other Name by Lucidlucy. (Modern, E, 188) A Leap Year AU.

Salt in the Blood by Hagen. (9th century, E, 169K) Featuring pre-Norman invasion Ireland, selkies, love of the sea, and mythical creatures.

The Great Big No by dietplainlite. (1990′s, E, 165K)

Kylo Ren is third generation rock royalty, a reigning brat prince starting to feel the burn of the fame he reached for with both hands. Rey is an aspiring singer on the verge of a big break, provided her A&R guy still has a job by the time she reaches LA. Their paths have crossed briefly, disappointingly, before. What happens when they collide?

The Trail Bride by SecretReyloTrash. (AU, Wild West, E, 160K)

Rey Niima finds herself in a perilous situation when her husband dies at the start of their journey West. From the few bachelors on the trail in her party; she attaches herself to the best of her options- mysterious Banker Ben Solo. A really interesting, amazing piece. Lots of introspection, and a heart wrenchingly real look into abuse and recovery. I emotionally digested for days.

The Sacred Texts by Eskayrobot & Poaxath. (Modern, E, 159K)

Doing the Unstuck by slipgoingunder. (Modern, E, 158K) A When Harry Met Sally AU.

The Mating Service by AlbaStarGazer. (Modern A/B/O, E, 146K)

If Rey had known how quickly she would find her biological mate and alpha through the world wide mating service, 'Match,' she might have considered signing up years ago.

Unravel Me by UnderTheCancerMoon. (Modern, E, 145K)

Rey and Ben push and pull their way through their 20's, experiencing the love, success, loss, and challenges that make life rich.

Fire Away by Daisyflo. (Modern, E, 141K)

The Witch in the Wood by HarpiaHarpyja @thisgarbagepicker & Inmyownidiom. (Fantasy, E, 138K)

I cannot say enough good things about this fic. It’s serving you knight Kylo and witch Rey and so so many good feelings. Sure there’s some angst and dark magic and some struggles but mostly this is a lovely Ghibli-esque story about two people living in a treehouse and talking to animals and having a really good life! Everything HarpiaHarpyja writes is magic.

Snow Without Winter by neonheartbeat. (Renaissance, E, 138K)

If you’re into serious historical fics (this once features catholicism and Rome in 1492) this is for you.

Lemon-hot Summer by IshaRen & pr3tty_g1rl5. (Modern, E, 130K).

In which Ben is the horniest virgin alive and Rey is bored and looking for something (or someone) to do.

Stranger Than Fiction by daxcat79. (Modern, E, 127K). Grumpy writer Ben and sunshine muse Rey.

Like Red But Not Quite by @kylotrashforever. (Modern, E, 126K) KTF is a god-tier reylo writer and you need to do yourself a favor and go read everything they have ever written.

Dark Water by LinearA. (1950′s, E, 125K)

The North Shore by @strawberrycupcakehuckleberrypie. (Modern, E, 125K)

Notting Hill vibes. Actor Ben meets shop owner Rey, and both their lives are changed instantly. It’s mostly about them both being smitten and starting a really good life together!! Lovely!

Stars In My Pockets (Wear Daisies In My Hair) by LostInQueue. (Modern, E, 125K). A Reylogan fic.

we could plant a house, we could build a tree by like_a_dove. (Modern, E, 124K).

An absolute classic. It’s about growing pains and growing feelings - the transition from childhood into adulthood and all the messy bits in between. God, it will hurt you. Badly. But it’ll be so, so worth it.

go i know not whither and fetch i know not what by voicedimplosives. (1990′s, E, 118K)

Russian Mafia AU!! A truly beautiful piece of work. Great plot,great smut, great Bendemption arc. It’s an emotional rollercoaster that’s fully worth the ride.

Souviens-toi de moi by Maniable. (Modern/historical, E, 117K)

Disconnect by Weatherbug02. (Modern, E, 115K)

Candyleg by 5cents. (1950′s, E, 115K)

The girl was too young, but old enough to have a hustler’s-eye view of her own bleak future. The boys were paying her to do a snow job on a candyleg, but she was beginning to love her work and love Solo, and she decided to stick with him till death did them part...

Baby, It’s Just Biology by polkadotdotdot. (Modern A/B/O, E, 112K)

Only If You Want To by Violetwilson. (Modern, M, 111K)

Personal security expert (and occasional under-the-table hitman) Kylo Ren has a strong feeling about the cute dive bar waitress with the strange bruises and the vicious wit. She's either a victim or the weirdest criminal he's ever met. Possibly both.

Ileenium Manor by WaterlilyRose. (AU, victorian, E, 109K)

Leia’s maid Rey instantly hates Lord Ben when he comes to take over the household. She can’t hate him for too long as he starts to pursue her. If you’re in the mood for a sweet but angsty Lord/Maid fic, this is for you.

Kohelet 3:16 (Call Me A Cab) by LinearA. (Modern, E, 108K)

Ruby Woo Red by HeartSabers. (Modern, E, 107K) Featuring makeup artist Rey and TV star Kylo.

Sixth Year by witheyesclosed. (Harry Potter, M, 107K)

The one where Ravenclaw Rey gets paired with Slytherin Ben in Potions and ohmygod he’s hot now

Lockjaw by bitterbones. (zombie apocalypse, M, 106K)

A Song of Trash and Fire: Ben and Rey Make a Porno by HarpiaHarpyja & sunshineflying. (Modern, E, 106K)

With the help of rich Unca Wanwo, flagrant misuse of Ben's creative writing degree, and copious amounts of coffee, Ben and Rey put together the porno of the century, starring themselves and their friends . . . with interesting results.

The Hypnotist by Pandora_Spocks. (Modern, E, 104K)

From a galaxy far, far away, soulmates Ben and Rey have been reincarnated on Earth to resolve their karma. Dr. Ben Solo is a charismatic hypnotist to whom present day Reychelle Lumen has been referred to for help with her nightmares.

Score by SpaceWaffleHouseTM. (Modern, E, 104K)

Ben's friends convince him to take the Rice Purity Test, but when he and Rey are revealed to have the highest scores of their friends, they quickly form a pact to beat Poe's out by the end of the semester. I loved this! Its so so sweet and funny and all from Ben’s POV. Sweet, sweet pining Ben.

The World Shifts (And I Am Better Here) by lachesisgrimm. (Fantasy, E, 102K)

Once upon a time there was a beggar girl whose parents sold her to a thief, and she was very unhappy.--In which prophecy is used with malicious intent, and the universe exerts itself to correct the problem.

for @scarletvizhlovers

#reylo fic recs #reylo fic rec #reylo fanfiction #rey/ben solo fanfics #reylo

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todaydreambelieversfic · 4 years ago

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Author Spotlight: Coffeegleek Day 3

Author : @coffeegleek

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

At least a few revisions. Then multiple editing passes, and even with my spouse as my proofreader for the past 25+ years, and doing more editing passes before posting to AO3, I still find annoying little typos, sometimes large ones.

If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

There was a crack fic I stopped writing years ago. It was a self-challenge during one of those tumblr trope challenges. I was trying to combine all of the tropes into the same fic as they were announced. It got zero traction though so I gave up. I'd love to go back and complete it, make it better. I had the whole thing outlined too.

What do you look for in a beta?

My spouse. We've been together for decades. He's been proofreading my original science fiction work and various fandoms' fanfics since before we were married. He even proofreads my Klaine smut and doesn't blink an eye. (He's a Glee fan too and on tumblr.) He knows what I'm trying to say when I can't find the right words and supplies them. He catches things I don't. What I love the most is for my original work, he's written his own fanfic. It's BAD. It truly is, but it's so heartfelt and earnest. He even came up with a soundtrack should I ever publish my sci-fi novel and the movie or show rights be bought. You really can't get a better beta than that. <3

There’s a number of friends on tumblr that I bounce ideas off of and who give me advice for topics they know far more about than me and google. I try to thank them in my fics.

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I’m going to steal another author’s recent answer and say that I could never do someone else’s work justice. However, I would love to see the author’s ideas for their fics even if they couldn’t write a prequel or sequel.

I suck at remembering titles and author names. There were two political fics that I would love to read more of should their authors ever decide to write in those verses again. One was where Kurt and Blaine's dads were running for president and Kurt and Blaine were along for the ride, staying in the same hotels at time (where they first met,) having to do school remotely, having to be the perfect sons for the press and Blaine being fed up because his parents were conservative Republicans. Then there was another fic where Burt was president and Kurt was the First Son living in the White House, along with Finn, and it was hard to date when your every move is watched by the press.

Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I write AU, so canon is only a word often misspelled by me. :) Seriously though, I try to incorporate as many canon elements and characters into my AU fics as I can. It's the kind of AU I like to read as well. What draws me to read and write AUs is taking canon characters, putting them into a different setting, and seeing how they'll react. At their core, they still need to remain the same in principle and have many of the same traits. Like Kurt will always love fashion and be headstrong no matter what. Blaine is always going to have that spark within himself, no matter how depressed or oppressed he gets. Burt and Carole are always going to be loving and nurturing parents at heart. Even in fics where Burt isn't woke, there's a part of him that means well. (Not one of my own fics, but one I read a long time ago.) Different circumstances will change the canon characters and make them react in different ways though. Like, Kurt could end up more withdrawn and hide his love of fashion as a matter of survival and self preservation. He or Blaine could turn into "bad boys." Coach Beiste will always have a heart of gold. Miss Pillsbury will always have a problem with messes. Things like that. I know canon. Give me all the alternate universe versions of it and I will be a happy camper.

Talk about a review that made your day.

I haven't checked for reviews on my fics in ages (because I'm an insecure chicken) so I don't remember any specifically. I do remember there were many that made my day. There are those who take the time to review every chapter. Ones who write only a short note to thank me for writing the fic - both the angsty ones and the cracky fun ones. I love it when someone mentions something that no one else has that I was hoping someone would notice because I was proud of it. I'm not a popular author and don't get a lot of kudos or comments or reblogs compared to many. So each comment and kudos means a lot to me and I'd like to publicly thank every single person who wrote one or hit that kudos button.

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I once got a troll who decided it was his job to complain that I had misspelled hors d'oeuvres in one sentence out of an entire verse where the word was written multiple times correctly. It was a series of Klaine Advent one shots for the Empty Nest verse. At first I was shocked and replied with an apology. Then I was, "F this. The person is a troll who didn't read any other part of the fic or verse, just this one quickly written one shot entry, and if all they had to say was that I'd misspelled a commonly misspelled word, then they aren't worth my time." I deleted the comment. There's concrit and trolling. It wasn't concrit.

What advice do you have for people just starting to write?

Have fun writing, even the hard stuff. Know that it's okay to take breaks. Try your best and know you'll get better the more you write and the more you read. Pronouns are your friend and free. Don't put, "I know this is going to suck, so whatever," in your fic description. We all suck at times. It's a part of writing. But if you want folks to read it, using that as your fic's summary isn't the way to go. Just my opinions, which won't even buy you a cup of coffee.

Which fic do you most like to discuss with other people? Why?

I think it’s pretty obvious from all of my rambling that I enjoy talking about both of my series - Empty Nest verse and A Very Hallmark Christmas verse. I'm not a popular author and I know my fics, especially the Empty Nest verse ones, aren’t everyone’s thing, so I never get to really discuss them except with friends that I bug to death in private and via long replies to comments on AO3. (You all are saints blessed by all of the good and patient gods.) I have so much to say about them - the process of writing them, the world building, research, and character decisions that went into every single one. I know they’re not perfect. I know the Empty Nest verse grew miles beyond the ficlette about Burt and Carole that it was meant to be. I know my sense of humor in the Hallmark verse isn’t everyone’s thing either. I still worked really hard on them and am glad that I did. Empty Nest let me release a lot of the fear and anxiety I had for my Hispanic and gay son after the 2016 election. The Hallmark ones were a needed break to put some humor into my life. If others enjoyed them, great. If folks want to know more, my inbox is always open.

What's one aspect of writing fic that gets you really excited?

Writing humor even if I'm the only one that finds it funny. As I said above, writing the Hallmark Christmas movie dialogue and plot and the actors as they were filming it was a blast. Writing the commercials was fun and exciting. In my angsty fics, knowing I wrote a good scene, line, or moment that brought out all the feels. That's more of “satisfaction of a job well done” than excited.

***

Check out Coffeegleek’s Fics

Humorous Spooky Drabbles - Humorous drabbles to spookish type prompts based on a tumblr post called October Drabble Prompts #1 by hallofceleano. The parts in bold and italic are from those prompts. Characters include Kurt, Blaine, Burt, Carole, and Finn. All fun; only #4 has some mild angst. #4 is for snarkyhag and regarding #5 - I know next to nothing about Twilight and had to look up Taylor Lautner on imdb. The liberties I took are my own.

A Very Sloppy Christmas - lucy8675309 posted to tumblr a series of gifs with Kurt dressed up as an elf. It inspired me to write the following prompt, which CoffeeAddict80 encouraged me to write as a fic:

I now want a fic where real Santa’s elf!Kurt gets drunk and vents to Blaine about all the woes of working for Santa. He’s over 100 years old and the outfits are terrible. Why couldn’t they wear clothes like the elves did in that one movie? Drunk elf Kurt has no idea he’s venting to Santa’s son.

Bonus if he wakes up and realizes he just had a drunken one night stand. He isn’t sure who it was with. Only that he’s naked, the guy in the bed beside him is naked and showing off a really great ass. Then said guy turns over and after Kurt’s done staring at his dick, he looks at the guy’s face and realizes who it is.

It’s a Twisted World - I decided to challenge myself by combining the posted 5 weekly Klaine AU Friday themes and adding another one of my own. So that means: Farm, Fairytale, Vintage (1900’s,) Super Powers, Zombie Apocalypse, and Harry Potter World Klaine with a splash of a fic idea I thought of while in the produce section of the grocery store. Each week, the story will continue, though each part stands alone. This is not a brilliant work of perfectly composed fan fiction. What it is, is fast-paced, cracky fun, with a large dose of innuendo. At least it had my son laughing his ass off. I hope y'all enjoy it too. :)

#author spotlight #coffeegleek

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musicallisto · 4 years ago

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without fail tag

THE “WITHOUT FAIL” TAG — List five things that you, WITHOUT FAIL, weave into or explore in your stories, whether it be specific themes or tropes, character archetypes, allusions to other literary works, what have you! It really can be anything that you consistently include in your narratives for whatever reason. Then invite others to share theirs by tagging them!

I was tagged by @deadlymodern - thank you so much for tagging me, this tag is amazing and I loved reading your answers! I can tell you have a very thorough approach to your writing & themes, it’s so cool!

(tagging people at the bottom of the post if you want to skip)

1. flowers, skies & words

grouping them together since they're all related to a wider, general literary device: symbols and allegories in my stories. Without fail, I’ll always use flower symbolism to evoke certain themes, places, characters... withered petals for death, blossoms for youth, you name it, it’s probably been in one of my stories. just consider my main WIP’s title, The Grave of Roses (Le Tombeau des Roses). It’s a little basic, and has been used time and time before in literature, but I still love it.

Other elements that often make it into my stories as symbols are planes (because I love aviation obviously, but also as a symbol of breaking free, independence, of man’s domination on mortality, what with having tamed the skies, but also his frail condition and how everything hangs on a thread). Also, the sky is pretty.

And lastly, words, stories, novels always have their place in my stories, and more often than not one of my characters is a writer, or someone who uses words and stories as some kind of comfort, outlet, or a driving force.

At its [the tombstone] foot, below the name, red roses piled up, enough of them to cover ten graves. A single vermilion bud, a wind-swept poppy, clashed with the rest of the bouquet, and Samuel knew that it was William's children who had placed it there. Only they knew that he didn't even like roses anymore, and that he would come to lay poppies on his father's memorial every time he returned to London...

The tomb was both smaller and prettier than Samuel imagined, less opulent than England would have wanted to give its precious child. The morning sun, like a caress, illuminated the epitaph, a Latin verse that Samuel had known in the past. “Bury me southward,” he heard William say so clearly that he almost turned around, "so that I can look at England and France in the same breath." His name, however, was drenched in full light, facing east, and inexplicably this saddened Samuel.

“And there it is... it's pretty, don't you think? I don't know if he would have liked it... You probably know it better than I do...”

“And why do you care about that, huh? You don't even believe in God.” “He's a writer. He believes in symbols.” “He believes in vanity, alright.”

“I think he would have liked it anyway,” he nodded in agreement, his eyes glued to the lonely poppy. (Translation)

2. parental roughnesses

this was bound to come, because I feel like we were all pretty fucked up at some point in our lives from our upbringing. I didn’t go for straight up “parental issues” because I don’t deal with like, abusive or absent parents or anything, just complicated relationships between parents and their children, but who still love each other. Oftentimes it has to do with one of the children idealizing the heck out of their parent and slowly realizing that they make mistakes and are not a hero at all, and/or unmeetable expectations and parental pressure. but it’s not like I’m projecting or anything lol

“You never knew Father, William,” Grace stopped him immediately [...]. “Don't you dare pretend you know what it's like.”

“Growing up without a father is not necessarily better than losing him in childhood! Everyone here has suffered from his disappearance, Grace. You have no idea how much I miss him, despite never meeting him. But that's all in the past now. And there's no reason for there to be another war.”

“Of course there is!” she retorted ferociously, despite the tears spilling from her eyes. “Of course there is, and they're going to send you there like Father, and you'll want to play hero like Father, and then you'll get shot down like a dog! Where's it going to be this time, huh? Above Luxembourg, just like him, or maybe somewhere in your beloved France?” (Translation)

3. patriotism

One way or another, all my stories always deal with patriotism, nationalism, pride in one’s country and more broadly speaking one’s relationship to it. It questions what it means to belong to a country, to share one culture, one language; does it justify acting in the benefit of one’s country, and where do you draw the line before you intentionnally harm others’; what even is a country, a nationality, and it what sense do you belong to one, and what do you owe it, if you even owe it anything? Is it wrong or right to feel love and attachment to your place of origin? And what does it mean to fight for your country, for its values, for its people? & other things of the like. It probably stems from my own experience as a binational person; growing up, I was always asked stuff like “but who do you root for in a football game” “but are you like really French or not?” “if Spain and France got into a war what would you do?”, and this all lead me to question “am I more French or am I more Spanish - which one am I, and which one would others perceive me to be - do I need to pick a side? And how can I express my affection to these places that raised me both differently, without undermining the other - or others? can I still be proud of my heritage given the horrors my countries have committed in the past?”. I still haven’t found a definitive answer, so my writing is just me throwing trails out to the world and hoping I’ll figure it out someday. that’s why my stories often have a war setting; firstly I just love historical fiction, and secondly it’s the perfect backdrop for all these questions to unfold.

William laughed at the idea - he, a true Frenchman! It was a very silly thought. He may have loved what he had seen of Charlotte's country, but England was not to be ashamed of any other land, for it was the only one he would love until his last breath. (Translation.)

4. just a hint of supernatural

I love me a good ghost story, and I’m a fan of everything spooky, but what’s subtly spooky, and not the gory, in-your-face horror. This particular theme may have increased since I saw The Haunting of Hill House which completely OBLITERATED ME with how it uses the house and its ghosts to tell a story of family and trauma and memories... but I’ve loved ghost stories forever. Another piece that truly resonated with me was One Hundred Years of Solitude (Cien años de soledad) by Gabriel García Márquez. It was my first dive into the world of magical realism and I didn’t make it out of there the same person I was when I entered. This one is not necessarily included in every piece without fail, because some are just too anchored in reality, but if it’s not a straight-up spirit or an otherworldly creature, I’ll always find a way to include an aspect of superstition, a myth, a legend, a tale from faraway that is neither proved nor disproved throughout the story. It truly adds to the atmosphere of the world, even in a very realistic and gritty setting, I believe.

I hear murmurs of legends among the soldiers. [...] One of those stories caught my attention, I must admit... It is not very special, nothing more than a children's tale, but I thought it was beautiful enough to please your Romantic soul. Some pilots speak of a cemetery, somewhere in the countryside north of London, which has something mystical about it, lost in the flowers that sway as far as the eye can see, in the calm rhythm of the wind, wrapped in the heady scent of eternal spring, and where the bravest warriors would go to rest forever, tired of their exploits and the continual explosions. No one knows exactly where it is or what to do to be buried there, but this beautiful image simply floats like a dream in the minds of many and, I confess, in mine as well since I first heard about it.

It is said that there only flowers dare to disturb the heroes in their sleep... This fragment of silence is called the Grave of the Roses.

So if I were to leave you, if you were to hear that I am gone...

With a bit of luck, that is where you will find me.

5. love

this one is broader and less obvious than you might think. Of course, I’ll always, always implement an element of romance to my story (and more often than not it’s angsty with star-crossed lovers or insurmountable obstacles or forbidden romances and whatnot), but there’s more to it. I don’t think I have ever written a story that is entirely grim and bleak, simply because I do not believe the world is built like that. I’ve said time and time again that love is my favorite thing in the world, and I believe it is the force that drives us all forward and connects us all together; love is, to me, the truest power of humanity, and its inherent purpose. And love covers all subjects and all types of relationships, but my absolute favorite ways to explore and show love in my stories is through long-lasting, rock-solid friendships (because friendships are often overlooked both in fiction and real life), and just a grandiose love letter to humanity as a whole. I’m an optimist, and many people who have suffered more than I have would deem me naive for thinking this - and I cannot blame them -, but as Anne Frank put it more bravely than I ever could, “despite everything, I still think humans are good at heart”. My stories are always born out of love and made for love. For the love of humanity and kindness and literature and love of myself, too, because sometimes I just like rereading the words and thinking, “wow, I’ve made it this far. look at me go.” In a word, yes, I would say that is what it boils down to; my work, but also what I hope my entire life and being will be. An ode to love.

“He admired you and truly loved you, you know. You were a good leader, I'm sure, and a good friend, above all.”

He thought she was going to put her hand on his shoulder, and prepared to bend to avoid it, but instead she came to rest on the polished marble of the tomb, which was already beginning to erode at the corners. The soft light bathed her hand, and Samuel's on the other corner, still resting above William's surname, the only thing he had been proud of from beginning to end.

“And I loved him too. I loved them all. If you only knew...”

well, I got carried away, as I always do when talking about my writing, but it made me miss it so much. I haven’t worked on any of my projects since literally October and I’m feeling the void rn. anyway, thank you again for enabling me to ramble about what I love most, Thais! and I’m tagging @softeninglooks, @lxncelot, @myriadimagines, @swanimagines & @randomfandomimagine + plus any writer who wants to talk about their marvelous work <3

#tag game #mywriting #long post #writing #ltdr

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kerwritesthings · 5 years ago

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The Start of Our Love Story

Summary: Before there was a me and you, there was me and there was you

Word Count: just a hair over 7k (buckle up y’all)

Warning: fluff and feels, a little bit of angsty longing, a little bit of messy, a bunch of sweet

Author Notes: So this is another one of those that festered from a tiny germ of an idea after something @fallinallincurls said and it kind of became, well this. It’s how it all started for these two. A look at their backstory. I kind of really love this. For me, I always want to make things I write feel real, that it’s not too much of the storybook, easy cliché. I want it to feel like this could actually be a thing that happens. This one feels more like that than anything I think I’ve written. I’m quite proud of it.

As always, this falls in my yet to be named verse. The rest of my works can be found here at my newly cleaned up and shareable masterlist. This honestly, if you’re just starting to read my pieces now, would be the first to read, then follow the rest as I’ve got them down on the master. However, it can be read as a solitary one shot. Much love to @whenidance for listening to me whine constantly at stupid o’clock that I’m writing more fic yet again and to @fallinallincurls for being the kickstart to this and for being the best damn cheerleader.

Toronto was never in your plans. Work wise, you were grinding away, working like crazy to make a name for yourself. That’s what mattered. Nothing else outside of work, your tiny apartment on the Upper West Side, brunches at Sarabeth and Jacobs Pickles and abusing Class Pass studios with your best friend Didi made it on your radar. But when the SVP of Charitable Corporate Giving came to you to chat about the expansion of their presence through the other international offices outside the US, more so growing and figuring out new ways to introduce corporations with their donations and their CSR programs with new charitable efforts; specifically an opportunity that would have you sitting possibly between New York and Toronto for a few months, eventually leading to full time position in Toronto, you sat up to listen. She immediately sets up time for you to head to Toronto along with a dossier of meetings with key folks there.

Didi came with you the first time you went up to Toronto for the exploratory conversations. The both of you came to love your time traipsing through Canada, Toronto and Montreal specifically. Plus, you both have friends scattered between the two. “This also means we can go harass the shit out of Hirashan, who we have not seen nearly enough of,” she trills off gleefully. “Plus, you know he throws killer parties, if we both visit you know he’ll do something fun.”

She was right. As soon as Hirashan found out you were coming into town, aside from the key smash that you may be in town for more than a brief trip if all works out well, a calendar invite for dinner shoots through immediately, then with a quick follow of ‘my friend Tristan is already having a few friends over for drinks that Friday night, we’re crashing’ which had you and Didi rethinking your packing knowing how Hirashan rolls.

After a day full of productive, thought provoking meetings that have you questioning everything back in New York, dinner with Hirashan, his boyfriend Miguel and Didi was exactly what you need to put the heavy thoughts in your head back a bit, at least for now.

“Tristian’s place is like Architecture Digest worthy,” Miguel raves, arm in arm with you as you head into the building. “The views of downtown and the CN are ridic. I’d say splurge if they want to drag you here and give you budget, but I’d much rather have you closer to us.”

“There is no way I’d be able to afford this building, let alone this neighborhood,” you quip, heels clicking on the tiles as you head up past the front desk to the elevators. Tristian’s ‘few friends over’ was tamer than you had expected, a solid number of people are scattering through the condo, but enough room to still feel like you could breathe.

Hirashan introduces you around like a proud parent, it’s sweet and not nearly as embarrassing as you thought he would be. There’s no way that you’ll remember everyone, your brain already feeling at max capacity after the day you had. However, luckily for you after the first full round of the room, you fall into an easy conversation with Tristian. He’s down to earth, a transplant from Georgia, and someone you could easily see becoming friends with if this move becomes an actual thing

“I have to introduce to my friend S,” Tristian says his thick southern twang bleeding through, craning his head around looking for him. “Normally, you can’t miss him he’s so dang tall. Whenever he gets here though, I must make the intro. I think y’all would get along well. He’s my neighbor, well not directly, but he lives in the building too.”

Didi and Miguel pull at you, passing around shots, and passing you around to meet and talk with other people. Your head is spinning, less from the whiskey you’ve been plied with through the night, more with the sheer fact that this night is making you see that Toronto may have to become a thing; and you’re smiling.

“Wait, here she is,” you hear Tristian first, before you feel him tug at your elbow before you go stumbling forward before tipping sideways. Another pair of hands come to steady you at your waist.

“Easy Tris, don’t break the girl before I can meet her,” the voice belonging to the hands at your sides retorts. He helps right you on your feet and you’re met with a pair of the prettiest eyes you’ve seen in awhile.

“As promised my dear,” Tristian grins, throwing his arms around the both of you. “This is Shawn.”

He looks oddly familiar, but you can’t place it or him. He’s quite stunning though, gorgeous really. And unlike some of the others around the apartment, he’s dressed for the occasion. A well put together man is a weakness for you. Let alone one with eyes like this, a swath of riotous dark curls and a bright smile.

You fall into talking easily, not even noticing when Tristian leaves. This Shawn of his is well spoken, funny and it feels like you’ve known him for much longer the way the two of you chat. You wander into the kitchen at some point to grab another round of drinks, a glass of white for you, a beer for him, continuing the conversation of why you were up in Toronto this week in the first place.

“Sorry man, I need to borrow this one for a few if you don’t mind?” Tristian calls from over the breakfast bar. “Couple more folks I need to introduce her to before they head out.”

“It was really lovely talking to you Shawn,” you say, smiling. “I’ll find you before I leave.”

A few minutes turns into an hour, Tristian and Hirashan passing you around through a new group of people that just arrived. Next thing you know, it’s almost 1:30 am and the boys are starting to fade. You’ve lost track of Tristian, as well as his friend Shawn. You were hoping to see them both before leaving.

“Can I steal you for a minute before you go?” Shawn inquires, as you’re grabbing your coat from Didi’s outstretched hand. Miguel just smiles, elbowing Hirashan and pushing Didi towards to the door.

“We’ll go down and wait for the Uber,” Miguel says, nudging you forward.

You slide into your coat as he walks you around the perimeter of the living room, out the French doors to the balcony.

“I didn’t want to ask in front of everyone, especially your friends,” he gets bashful, a light pink flushes his cheeks. “But I really liked talking with you tonight, getting to know you. Can we stay in touch? Even if Toronto isn’t in the cards for you, I’d still like for us to talk more. Become friends even.”

You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah, I’d like that. Here’s my card. Everything is on there. Cell, email.”

“I’ll text you in the morning, so you have mine,” he replies, squeezing your hand after sliding the card from it. “Let me walk you to the elevator.”

He loops your arm through his, guiding you back through the groups of people in the apartment, down the hallway and to wait for the elevator to pop back up.

“You don’t have to wait with me,” you say softly, hands in your pockets so you don’t do something like reach out to grab a hold of his.

“Yeah I do,” he smiles, and it seems like he shifts closer to you. You get a whiff of his cologne, and you hope in lingers in your nose for the rest of the evening.

The elevator doors slide open. “Thanks for the lovely night, Shawn.”

“We’ll talk soon,” he responses with a smile and a cute little wave before the doors close in front of you.

“Good night?” Didi asks flopping down onto the bed in your hotel room. “I saw that look on your face a few times, this is gonna be a thing now isn’t it? I should warm up the Star Alliance frequent flyer number soon, eh? Figure out the best flights from LaGuardia up here.”

“It’s feeling good, I want to really think on it though once all the big brass talk everything over,” you start, changing quickly, the day finally catching up to you. “And more so what they’re thinking with transition plans and comp package.”

“You do realize though you were all chatty flirting tonight with Shawn Mendes, right?” Didi fights through a yawn once they’re in bed. “Major thing to throw in the plus column for this. He looked all smitten kitten too, especially when he came over before we left. Get it girl.”

You’re suddenly not as sleepy as before. “What the fuck, no way Dee.”

“Mmhmm, why do you think the three of us let you guys be for as long as we did. Tristian mentioned him coming by. Thought right off the bat you two would get along after you and Tristian got to chatting. Tris was right and I’m glad he made that happen,” Didi mutters, face smushing against the pillow. “Plus, he’s so your type. One of us needs to tap that, and I think Tomas would be beyond pissed if I did, so it’s your mission now. And you must share all the details once you get dicked down by that hot piece of man candy.”

You throw the smaller decorative pillow on the bed over at her face. “I didn’t, I mean. We were just talking Dee. He looked familiar, but. Oh god, Didi,” you grab the other pillow and place it over your face to scream.

You try to put it out of your mind, especially with everything else going on around the Toronto whirlwind. Even more so when a few days go by and you don’t hear from him. He flat out asked for your number, you slid him your card which had your cell and your email address. He said he was going to text you, so you had his number, and he wanted to stay in touch. You thought he was being sincere. You try not to let it get you down. Thinking of it now after everything, he’s a massive pop star, what would he want to do with someone like you? He was probably just being polite. You’re about to pop into the meeting with the SVP of Charitable Corporate Giving, when a text pops up from a number you don’t have in your phone.

Hi it’s Tris! Found your card in my guest room, must have slipped out your bag at some point when you were here last week. Let me know when you make your decision. Welcome to crash here until you find a place if the decision is a YES!

The only card you gave out that night was to Shawn. Did he lose it? Did he leave it there? Too many questions, you had an important meeting to get to.

Your apartment is almost completely packed up, the movers coming in a few days to take everything. It was a no brainer to say yes, though it meant less time of a transition and more of an immediacy in Toronto. You decided to spend your last full Sunday in the city at some of your favorite places. Breakfast at BEC, a facial from Facehaus, a wander through Strand Book Shop and an afternoon at Té Company. You manage to snag your favorite table: a half-padded booth in the back corner next to the window. A pot of tea and a book that has nothing to do with work and you’re ready to take a deep breath or three.

“That young man asked me to bring you over a fresh pot of whatever you were having,” the server gestures, swapping the steaming pot in her hands with the cooling one you have on the table. “Shall I bring over another cup?”

You look up from your book, and from her, to see him. Your breath catches for a moment. He’s got a shy smile, looking straight at you. Beat up black boots, dark jeans, cozy grey sweater, a vintage black leather bomber. Curls a windswept mess and eyes bright. He looks like he belongs here, in your perfect Sunday afternoon in New York City. You don’t know how you feel about the fact you’re thinking that way, especially after everything. Damn your subconscious. You’re too polite to ignore him or flip him off, so you nod and wave him over.

“Of all the gin joints, Shawn…” you sigh out softly.

“This is so crazy, that you’re here. Hi. So, I owe you an apology,” he explains carefully, sitting down across from you despite wanting to slide onto the bench next to you. “Because the nervous asshole I am, I totally put your number in my phone wrong. I tried texting you a few times, and nothing. I figured when they weren’t going through as iMessage I got it wrong and then I realized I lost your card, so I had absolutely no way to check or get in touch. I also didn’t want to look desperate or completely pathetic tracking down your friends through Tristian to hound them for your number when I had already asked for it myself, especially the way I did, or stalk you on social that would have been worse.”

He’s adorable when he’s flustered. “Take a breath, Shawn,” you smile softly. “Tris has it. He texted me the following week that he found it in his guest room.”

“I went in there after I walked you out,” he runs his hand through his hair, messing his curls about even more than they are already. “Needed a minute cause the pretty girl I talked with all night actually wanted to keep in touch too. I sat on the bed and put your number, or what I thought was your number, in my phone. I thought I slid it back into my pocket, it must have jostled out.”

“I thought, well, honestly I didn’t know what to think,” you begin. “I didn’t realize you were, well you until after I was back at the hotel with Didi. I thought you looked familiar, but I just couldn’t place it. Then when you didn’t reach out, I was like what would this guy, this Rockstar, want to do with me?”

He shakes his head at first. Then, he slides his phone out of his coat pocket, flipping through a few things before sliding it across the table to you. “Go ‘head,” he nudges it closer to you.

There were four or five green text bubbles in the open message window, an 8 in the place where the 0 should be in your number.

I know I said I would wait until tomorrow, but I just wanted to say how nice it was to talk with you tonight. It’s Shawn btw :)

I know you’re probably crazed with just getting back but wanted to see how decisions were shaking out? I’m bias but I’d be happy to talk up Toronto some more.

Let me know when you’re back in town? Would be great to see you.

I may be in New York soon, would love to see you in your element. Can we grab a drink if you’re around?

Chat soon?

“He was kind of taken with you right away. Because that night? He got to just be just this guy Shawn talking to the prettiest girl in the room, who also happened to be so easy to talk to and laugh with,” he says honestly.

“It’s happening by the way,” you respond, pouring him a cup of tea despite your shaky hands. “Toronto. Next week. It’s my last full Sunday in New York, I’ve been hitting some of my favorite spots today as a last hurrah, including here. Movers come Tuesday; I fly out Thursday.”

“I found this place on my first solo trip to New York, and have been coming here ever since,” he sips at the mug that looks awfully small in his hands. “How many times do you think we crossed paths here and didn’t even know it?”

“We did on the time it really matters though didn’t we?” you smile over your mug.

You’re there for hours without even realizing it. Talking about whatever comes to mind. Everything from Toronto to New York to music to hockey, life and everything in between. After the second pot of tea, he moves to sit next to you on the banquette. By the third, he’s turning to face you straight on, head resting on his left hand with his knee pressing warmly into your thigh. Not once did anyone come to interrupt or bother the two of you, no wonder he’s gravitated to this place. By your fourth, you’re mirroring him, turning towards him. It’s comfortable, he’s comfortable. It’s easy, too easy actually. There are no awkward silences, no weird blips in conversation. It scares you. You’re already on the precipice of something majorly life-altering. You’re not sure you can take up another major change. And you believe him and his rambling explanation before. You do. But there’s a part of you that’s scared. Maybe you were just meant to have these pockets of time together, these brief beautiful moments. Nothing more. Your head is a swimming mess of emotions.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you two, but we’re getting ready to close,” the older gentleman you’ve come to know as one of the managers explains.

“Holy shit, it’s almost 8,” you stretch, popping your shoulders. “I didn’t realize it was that late.”

“What time did you get here?” he asks.

“Only 20 minutes before you did,” you say, timidly, resting your hand over his that’s resting on his knee. “But this was a really good way to spend my last Sunday in New York. Honestly.”

He flushes brightly, “I’m really glad I came in here today.”

“Now, may I please see your phone?” he questions, a sly little grin creeping up one corner of his mouth.

You nod, reaching for it out of your bag and unlocking it.

Shawn takes the most ridiculous selfie, you can’t help but fight giggling, then flipping back to poke at the screen before handing it back to you.

“You’ve got mine and I sent a text to make sure I’ve got your right number this time,” he expresses, his finger tracing over the knuckles on your hand. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate and it’s all going to be crazy for a good while for you, but I’d like to keep whatever this may be going.”

You duck your head, threading your hair behind your ear, nerves suddenly rearing their ugly head. Your stomach flips at his touch.

“I don’t want to lie to you Shawn, or lead you on,” you exhale, voice shaky. “This is all a lot. The new job, the move, this, you. I’m pretty fucking terrified as it is. But then add this in? Especially cause you’re you and… This isn’t a no, but it’s not a yes. It’s a not right now and I know that’s a lousy answer and the last thing I expect is for you to wait, because why would you. I’d like to text, when I can, at least for now.”

You know that answer wasn’t what he was expecting. Honestly, it wasn’t what you thought you would say to him either. You want but you also know you to listen to what your gut is telling you, despite your head and your heart fighting to have a say in this too. You’re afraid to look up, to meet his eyes, as you fear it could be the last time you see them up close and in person like this.

“Hey,” he replies softly, nudging your chin up with his pointer finger knuckle. “You’re turning your entire life and everything you’ve known upside down. I get it. It also means a hell of lot to me that you’re being honest. It also means you’re not placating me, which I’m appreciative of. It’s actually really refreshing and kind of a turn on. I’ll be here and I’d really like it if you still texted, call if you want even. I promise you I’ll answer, anytime ok?”

You nod, trying to fight back the fog shifting across your eyes, a small sniff breaking through though. “I’m going to just…” you say gesturing to the ladies room.

“I won’t leave,” he states.

You quickly splash water on your face, blow your nose, grateful you had your facial before, so you don’t have a mess of makeup to clean up. Taking a few more deep breaths, you head back out. He’s got your bag in hand, your coat over his arm. He’s making this whole not now thing hard to stick to, but you know truly know that if it’s meant to fall into place, despite everything, it will.

“What about the…” you start, looking around the table for the billfold the owner left.

“Taken care of,” he cuts in before you could finish, holding out your coat to help you into it. You itch to hold his hand as you head out and down the steps, but you don’t want to go back on everything you just said. Instead, you set to order an Uber. You peek over, and it seems that he’s doing the same, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as well.

The nip in the early spring air is out, now that the sun has set, and you snuggle further into your coat. He shifts closer, rubbing his hands lightly over your arms. You’re coming to realize how much touch is a part of his language.

“I won’t let you say goodbye, because it’s not that. I won’t let it be that,” he murmurs. “It’s a see you later, ok? And, I’d like, if you’re comfortable with it, to give you a good luck I’m here for you hug before you go.”

You nod, thankful it’s dark so he can’t see you blushing. He takes you in his arms easily and holds you close. He’s warm and solid, he smells like fresh laundry, boy and springtime wrapped together and it feels like you fit just so. He leans his head down to rest on top of yours, squeezing his arms around you tighter. “I mean it,” he whispers. “I’m here ok? However you need me to be, whenever you need.”

He keeps you in his hold until a car pulls up, and of course it’s yours that comes first; the driver calling your name through the open window.

You pull away slowly, reaching for his hands and squeezing them in yours. “We’ll talk, I can promise you that, Shawn. Just bear with me?”

He nods, squeezing your hands in return, “Travel save and go be awesome.”

Your resolve lasts a whole four days, texting him simply a photo through the plane window of the approach into Toronto.

She’s looking all pretty for your arrival – welcome to your new home! he texts back with a Canadian flag emoji and a red heart.

It’s not easy, you knew it wouldn’t be. Your new apartment is lovely but it’s still not feeling comfortable and like your home yet. You’re thankful that you have friends that have taken time to wait for the cable guy, accept furniture deliveries and your moving truck because you don’t have the time. Not with work. Work is hard, harder than it was in New York. They throw you right into the fire immediately. It’s new office politics, it’s a new role, new everything. Even the fact you don’t have your favorite Starbucks baristas nearby anymore to supply you with your afternoon pick me up the way you like it when things are crazy irks you. You look back through your texts, hovering over the chain you’ve got with Shawn. You haven’t texted him since that flight photo. You want to, but it would just add more to an already full plate.

Bringing you dinner and a surprise! LMK what you’re jonesing for comes through from Tristian late Friday afternoon after your second full week in the new office.

A gigantic bottle of white? you text back with the side eye tongue out emoji. He’ll think you’re kidding. You’re not.

I’m bringing a few bottles and Japanese. I’ll use the spare I need to drop back off. See you in a bit!

The surprise, you come to find, once you’re both on the couch with chopsticks in hand, is even a mystery to Tristian.

“I couldn’t say no,” he fights out around a mouthful of shrimp teriyaki, pointing at the package on your coffee table with his chopsticks. It’s carefully wrapped in butcher paper with a pretty silver ribbon. It’s a box, thin and flat, nothing too large with a white notecard underneath the ribbon. “I’m not going to butt in on what’s going on with y’all, but we had drinks after he got back from New York. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that besotted, but all he’d tell me was that he’s playing off your lead. He’s not pushed or anything. So, when he asked me to help get this to you, I had to. At least I didn’t give him your address, girly.”

“It’s complicated,” is all you can really give to Tristian to explain or encompass it. Because that’s exactly what it is. You slide everything off your lap to exchange it for the box. Carefully, you unwind the ribbon, it’s too pretty and something you’ll want to keep to use in another way. It’s two notecards under it, and they fall out into your lap. They’re handwritten in deep blue scrawl, to match the border of the card. You pull the shorter of the two notes out first.

I’m really hoping this isn’t too much or crossing any lines. I saw this and thought of you immediately. It’s just a little something as you’re conquering the world. – Shawn

The little something is a gorgeous journal, soft deep midnight blue leather covered in silver embossed vintage maps with a silver pen slipped in the loop.

“Damn,” you mumble, fingers tracing carefully over the leather for a moment before snagging the other notecard.

I know you’re probably still figuring everything out and exploring. I’m giving you a list of some of my favorite places in the city, so don’t go spilling my secrets ok? :) If you go to the link at the bottom, it’s a Google Maps planner so you can save it to your phone.

“This boy,” you sigh, leaning your head back on the couch. It’s sweet and thoughtful and just on the right side of tugging at your gut. Damn him.

“Tell me why y’all aren’t knockin’ boots yet?” Tristian quips, leaning over you to grab a Spider roll.

“Because I still don’t know my head from my ass up here yet and he’s Shawn fucking Mendes, Tris,” you take a large sip of your wine. “And I’m just some girl.”

“By the looks of it, you’re not just some girl. Just saying,” he says, nudging your shoulder.

Well after a few bottles of wine are polished off and Tristian on his way back home, you’re finally in bed. You’re still not used to the sounds of this city and you’re fidgeting, tossing your phone back and forth between your hands. It’s late, too late to call. So, you do something completely out of character, you record a voice memo to send to Shawn.

“I wanted to call, but it’s too late and I’ve had a little bit of wine that would make my resolve even weaker if we actually talked on the phone and I heard your voice. But your delivery boy came by this evening,” you speak quietly and carefully. “Thank you, Shawn. It’s perfect and so beautiful. I’m going to start using it on Monday. Then that list, with that Google link? That’s the absolute sweetest. I know I haven’t reached out and I’m sorry, really, I am. This is a lot harder than I thought. I miss home, this doesn’t feel like home yet. I know it will, but it’s not right now. Work is kicking my ass, and I’m grateful they trust me and for the challenge, but it’s so different than New York. It’ll all come together, but right now it’s just a fucking lot. I think though that this weekend, I’m going to try some of your list and I’ll try to share my adventures along the way. I promise you though Shawn, I am thinking of you and I want to get through this and feel like I’m good to talk more to you, with you. Thank you again, sweet dreams.”

You can’t bear to listen back, so you just save it and quickly shoot it off in a text to him with an old school t9 heart. You wait a solid 20 minutes before setting your phone on do not disturb, plugging it into charge and flipping over to try to get some sleep.

The next morning, your phone is scattered with different alerts: a missed FaceTime call and a handful of text messages, some with attachments, from Shawn. You press play on the memo first.

“So, please forgive me for trying to FaceTime, especially at like 1am, but you sounded so defeated in your message and it just killed me. Then I realized what time it really was and hoped you were already asleep, or your phone was off, and I didn’t wake you. I was in the studio head down working on something when you sent that, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you right away especially after I told you to reach out at any time,” he rambles before taking a breath. “First off, you’re welcome. I spotted it and knew it belonged with you. Please do let me know what you think of these places, I’d offer to come with you especially since you’re having such a hard time, but I’m going to respect your wishes. Just know, if you do need company, I’m good for it. I’m sending you a couple things to read and to listen to, too. Things that have helped when I’m on the road and just feeling overwhelmed or scrambled. I hope they help some. I’m here, remember that ok?”

You send him a video of your mug of tea next to the journal on your coffee table, steam swirling from the mug with his latest album playing in the background.

Step one – making this journal about me and for me, not about work, with my favorite tea at the ready and I may or may not be listening to something special today to get me started.

You do something you haven’t in a long time, you write. You journal, and you let yourself feel and get everything out. Including about this darling boy who keeps making his way into the forefront of your mind.

I feel honored – need to know what your fav is, you know for reasons ;) I’m hoping it gives you a bit of a breather that you’re needing.

You spend the day concentrating on you, hitting two spots off his list: the tea shop and the record store, purchasing way more than you need at both. Once you make it back home, you feel lighter, more at ease. You spend time setting up the new record player, immediately sliding the first item you searched for onto the turntable and snapping a quick picture.

You sound better on vinyl btw – please don’t make me pick a favorite, I kind of love this whole entire album.

From there, you keep randomly texting, haphazard things, no rhyme or reason. Just talking and photos and whatever comes to mind, and it goes both ways for the both of you and you keep that up for a few weeks. It’s easy, it’s fun, neither of you putting pressure on the other for what’s next or what’s to come.

A touch over a month after you sent him the vinyl photo, he texts you a Dropbox link one afternoon.

A little something since you liked the album so much. Hope you enjoy.

That little something? It’s the whole album, acoustic, just him and his guitar stripped down. It’s soft and intimate and absolutely amazing.

Shawn, are you kidding? This is stunning. How come I haven’t heard any of these before?

It’s only late that night when you’re about to fall asleep that you think you hear your phone chime. You don’t pick up, waiting to look at the message the next morning. There as plain as day is his very simple response.

Because I worked on it for you.

You want to call to really talk to him, hear his voice, you want to see him, something, anything. But you can’t. You’ve got an important meeting at 9 am sharp that you cannot be late for, a jam-packed schedule the whole day and an event that night with one of the new clients, a charity benefit showcase at Horseshoe Tavern they asked you to go with them to. You don’t want this to be a brief tete-a-tete either with him. You quickly send off a string of every heart colored emoji there is because right now that’s what it feels like, your heart is exploding in its feelings.

The club is filled to the brim that night, your clients are overjoyed and your new boss keeps texting how she’s pleased the clients are happy. However, you’re frowning at your phone. Nothing from him, not a peep all day. You normally wouldn’t be concerned, but after yesterday, you’ve got a little bit of worry niggling at your stomach. You can try him after you’re out the doors of the club later, but for now, you need to put on a smile and make sure the rest of the night goes smoothly. The talent wrangler for the evening is dragging you backstage with your clients. A surprise guest is coming to perform and the CEO wants them to all meet before this person heads up to the stage for the last songs of the night, a thank you to your clients for their support of the charity. Backstage is a shit show to say the least, you’re jostled around trying to make your way back to the green room before being slammed by one of the sound guys and his massive rig bag.

“Watch it,” you call out, rubbing at your hip as you try to catch up to the rest of the group ahead of you.

“Damn, are you ok? It was a hell of a hip check if I ever saw one,” you hear from behind you.

You know that voice. “Shawn?” you ask, turning around to face the voice.

His eyes grow wide, his smile even wider.

“Oh, I see you’ve met our special guest,” the wrangler says, nudging Shawn forward. “Shawn, you can head back with this group if you don’t mind? I need to find a few other folks for this meet and greet.”

He agrees easily, shifting closer to you as you head back to the green room. “Fancy seeing you here. An unexpected surprise for sure. The best one really.”

You nod, biting your lip, the corners of your lips quirking up. “It is. Let’s get the business stuff out of the way first. Then maybe, after everything, and the show’s done tonight, we can talk?”

“I’d like that,” he snags your hands, squeezing them in his before he lets you go to you knock on the door.

The green room is small given the venue, but it’s a loud cacophony of sounds and people, and you’re both pulled in opposite directions immediately. You can’t help but catch sight of him here and there, he’s one of the tallest in the room so it’s not difficult. He looks good. His hair’s a little longer, curlier. You can’t help but smile, for a few reasons now, but at this moment you hear his laugh from across the room and it’s bright, infectious. It simmers in within you, but you can deal with that after the event’s over. The rest of the evening flies smoothly. You manage to sneak a drink from the bar in time to catch Shawn taking to the stage. You stay out of sight, tucked in the corner, wanting to observe him in his element. Him performing is nothing like you’ve seen before, especially in such a small venue. This could easily become something very addictive. Just as the show wraps, you shoot him a quick text.

Need to get my clients out the door then I’m free, maybe take me 10 more min. Somewhere around here good for a drink of some kind? Quiet?

His answer is quick, quicker than you expect, in two rapid texts.

Yes, Suite 114: https://www.suite114.ca/

It’s a 20 min walk from here, about 2km not bad - but I saw your heels so there’s none of that tonight. Uber over? I’ll meet you there as soon as I’m done with packing up and I have to say goodbye to the club owners. Promise I won’t be long.

Once you’re wrapped, an Uber comes quickly, surprising for a Friday night. It’s a quick hop over and the bar is cozy, dimly lit and decadent. A modern-day speakeasy vibe. He’s right though, it’s quiet, not overly full and there’s a couch you can claim towards the back of the room. You order something simple, a champagne cocktail with grapefruit and St. Germain, to sip on as you wait for him. Something light and celebratory. It was a good day all around.

“Am I allowed to say you look beautiful tonight?” you look up to hear him say, your cocktail and a rocks glass in hand with a few fingers of something dark in it.

“Only if I can wax poetic about seeing you perform live tonight,” you reply, fingertips brushing his hand as you slip the glass from his grasp. You may have done it purposely.

He blushes, settling down close to you with his arm stretching across the back of the couch. “I just might have switched songs at the last minute, after seeing you. Wasn’t supposed to do Lost tonight, but it just felt right.”

“Special in a room like that, like that small and intimate yeah? It felt that way at least, from watching it. You’re something else up there, Shawn,” you muse, twirling the flute carefully between your fingers, eyes catching his.

“Had a pretty girl I needed to impress tonight, so,” he drawls, looking down at the drink in his hands. “It was the best thing seeing you there tonight.”

“I wanted to call you this morning,” you begin, sliding your free hand to his forearm on the back of the couch. “But I didn’t want to rush the conversation. I had meetings, this tonight. I just. I had to send something, so I exploded all those hearts in that text. I needed to make sure I had the time I wanted, that, after your text with what you said, and that Dropbox. Shit, Shawn you’re making me all jumbled and to be perfectly honest? After seeing that text when I woke up? All I wanted to do was to hear your voice, talk, laugh, spend time with you, hug you tightly. I didn’t expect any of that. Whatsoever. It’s thrown me for a loop. A good loop, but still a loop.”

He places his glass on the table next to you, slides yours out of your hand to take a hold of it. “The last thing I want to do is scare you or overwhelm you. But. Is it okay if I say I feel the same? After Tris’ thing, then even more so after New York, I knew I needed to have you around, whatever way you’d let me. Your call and your speed. I was drawn to you in a way that I hadn’t been to anyone before, and I didn’t want to give that up. I was so glad to hear from you, after Tris got you that package. Your voice I mean. And then, the last couple weeks, not going to lie here. I’d look forward to your texts, those random little photos you’d share of those looks of how your life was settling in here. When you went to Sonic and it was my album you got and started listening to, it just hit me and I went into my studio at the condo to start laying those tracks down for you. That was, it meant a lot to me, so I wanted to just do something for you just as special.”

You lean your head on your hand, the one that’s still laying on him, now closer to his wrist and take a deep breath. “Honesty continuing? I’m scared. This whole being here is still such a rollercoaster, and then add in what this could be, especially… You’re you, Shawn. Shit, I don’t want to sound like that but it’s there. There’s a lot that goes with it, you get that right? I don’t think…”

“Take a breath,” he murmurs, slipping a piece of hair that’s fallen across your cheek behind your ear and trailing his finger down your cheek ever so lightly before tanging his fingers with yours. “I understand. I do. I’d like to, if you’re game, see where this goes. No pressure, nothing but the two of us. Only the two of us. Can I take you out on a proper date? I’d love to, please?”

This boy, this sweet, kindhearted adorable boy, this ridiculously famous pop star, really wants to take his time and spend it with you. This time, you listen to what both your head and your heart are telling you. Take the jump.

“I’d really like that, Shawn.”

TAG LIST: @whenidance, @parkerdavis, @sinplisticshawn, @hollandraul, @fallinallincurls, @itrocksmysocks, @rainbowshawn, @lasingphomustra, @illumecherry

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes fluff

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who-even-needs-marbles · 4 years ago

Note

I don’t know if you’re still interested in prompts, but in case you are… This may be the most phone-it-in prompt ever, but I thought your “Jaskier gets paralyzed” headcanon looked angsty and wonderful, and I keep hoping you’ll do something more with it. Maybe write us a scene or two from that ‘verse?

Hi anon! I know this took really long but life just be like that, good newn is that once I started writing this I decided to write the whole thing! So if all goes well that will be on my ao3 once I finish it.

This takes place somewhere around chapter 4 and 5 (yeah it’s going to be a long one) just after Jaskier woke up. He got stabbed in the head but Yennefer and Geralt managed to save him, what they didn’t realise at first is that brain injuries almost always have lasting affects, this time making it that Jaskier, the once so alive bard couldn’t even get one real word out of his mouth.

___________________________________________

The mumbling wouldn't stop, Jaskier was just making sounds and acted like he was actually saying something, like he was still flailing his arms around and using every tone he could to get his point across. But he wasn’t. By the gods he was barely moving. His eyes were dancing and he was producing sounds but it meant nothing. The poet lost his words, he lost the life he had. It would take years for him to even walk again- let alone dance around the tavern enchanting everyone with a voice like honey. If he’d ever got to do that again. Brain injuries have disastrous results. He knew that, but he’d never seen it from this close. He never expected Jaskier to end up like this.

He’s met people who were blind, deaf, couldn't feel their left arm or just lost their sense of smell. Never someone who seemed almost fully paralised, not even knowing that they were.

He just kept mumbling, he just wouldn’t stop and it didn’t take the sorceress and the witcher long to realise that they needed to tell him, before he found out himself while they couldn’t do anything but watch. They needed to say something, anything to at least comfort him. He needed to say something and not just watch, Jaskier needed him but the words were stuck in his throat, stuck like they’ve never been, like the tightest screw in the world's heaviest tower.

“Jaskier'' Yennefer seemed to be able to talk. It made Jaskier snap out of his ramble session and look at her. She walked closer and grabbed his hand. Slow and ever so careful. Like it was made out of glass. Slowly lifting it off the bed into the air, letting their conjoined hands rest in the air. She looked at him contemplating what to do. Letting her violet eyes rest on the blue ones across of her.

Even the great Yennefer of Vengerberg didn’t seem to find the right words, or maybe even the heart. She always was brutally honest when it came to things like this. She’s a smart liar, only twisting the truth, but not fully lying.

She redirected her attention from Jaskier’s eyes to his hand. And the blue colour filled with confusion followed. She slowly let go of his hand. Not putting it down, but slowly taking her support away from his arm. And just before she let it fully go she told him something.

“Try and keep your arm up.” Confusion filling his eyes until she let go and the arm fell right back onto the bed, blue eyes grew wide and looked at Geralt, his words still stuck, and back at Yennefer, her violet eyes full with everything he needed to know.

He needed to lift his arm. Jaskier couldn't figure out why it fell when Yennefer let go, he didn’t know what was even happening. He felt okay, besided the thobbing pain in his head he felt okay, so why did his own bloody arm fall?

He just needed to lift his arm. Lift it like he’d always done. Using his upper arm to lift the rest. He’d do it. They were just fucking with him, he was just fine. This was just one of Yennefer’s sick jokes.

Just lift it.

1.. 2.. 3 -

Nothing.

Why not?

His heartbeat started picking up, along with his breathing. He could still do it. He’d been out for a while, his body probably needs some time. His eyes grew smaller, more concentrated and a little angry. He tried again, and he kept trying but nothing happened no matter what he did. He tried, and oh god he tried but nothing happened.

“What happened?”

But all he got were two worried looks. Why didn’t they answer him? They always answered him, and if they didn’t they wove him off, they didn’t start a group therapy session where he spoke while they just looked at him, worried.

“Answer me!”

Still nothing. Why? Why not? In Melente’s name WHY!

“Jaskier”

“Geralt tell me! What’s happening!?”

“Jaskier, I need you to listen.” Geralt’s breath got caught in his throat “You’re trying to talk right?”

“Trying? What do you mean trying? I-”

A hand got a hold of his own, Geralt's hand to be exact. The witcher brought their hands closer to his face and placed a gentle kiss on the bard's hand before looking him in his blue wide eyes.

“You’re not saying anything.”

It hurt to tell him that. It hurt that he wasn’t okay. It hurt that he didn’t even realize it. Oh he hated how he needed to tell him how bad it had gotten. Geralt needing to tell his beloved bard all that he loved doing. How he wasn’t able to do the things he loved most. Talking, singing, dancing, playing, writing, he didn’t know where the list would end. For as long as he knew Jaskier he was talking and moving and full of life. Now there was a man on that bed, paralised from his neck down and unable to string together the words he used to be so good with. And now he even had to explain it all to him.

He had to bite through the piercing eyes that were wide with fear, and confusion.

“You’re not saying anything. Not words, just tones. You can move your eyes right? Blink twice for yes”

Jaskier wanted to scream, scream until every word came back. He tried to answer, but just like his arm, his mouth wasn’t working with him. Just how he thought that he was moving his arms at first, now that he listened -really listened- he heard the notes escaping. How it just sounded like low grunts, how it didn’t even sound close to the voice he once had. So he just blinked twice. Geralt would find a solution, he always did. He just had to get through now.

Geralt sighed with compassion. “Do you remember what happened? Once for no, and still twice for yes.”

Did he remember? He dug through his memories, trying to find an explanation for why and how he ended up here. He tried to find it but he didn’t remember himself getting hurt. He remembered the Nilfguaardian threat and how he swore he wanted to help. How he found a way that didn’t involve getting a sword and smashing every black soldier he saw. It wasn’t safe, he knew that, but as long as no one caught him he’d be fine. He needed to pull a big stunt. He needed to be out in the open to get to the Nilfguaardian commander tent, steal the plans, and leave, act like a lost bard, having no idea how he got there. He remembered the plan, but not the execution. Like the day never came to light. Like he fell asleep the night before the big day, and woke up like this. In a condition he just couldn’t put his finger on and with the most terrible headache ever.

“Jaskier. Do you?”

He blinkt once.

“We were going to resist Nilfgaard. I found you struggling with a higher soldier, possibly a commander. I tried to save you-” He hadn’t let go of his hand, but now he squeezed a little harder. A comfort after he choked on his words. And Jaskier forgot, just for a split second that he couldn’t squeeze back, and swallowed the lump in his throat when he remembered again.

Yennefer decided to step in. Realising that Geralt couldn’t find the words he needed. “He stabbed you in your head, Jask. I’m sorry. You even died for a while, but your spirit hadn’t left yet, so we managed to save you. You woke up for a few seconds, after that you fell asleep for the whole week.”

He wanted to make a snarky and clever comment. Just a little something to say that he’s okay, even though he isn’t. To bite at Yennefer and have her bite back. To show Geralt how good they could get along and how their comments could be turned into the best theatre show on the whole continent.

A try won’t hurt right? It was just a dagger in his head, and he survived that. He survived and he’d always pulled through everything. He had to try, for this wasn’t a life for a bard.

“Well at the very least I’m-”

“Jaskier.” Geralt said. Eyes closed and lips moving in no particular shape. Testing the words before saying them. “Please, stop.”

“Unfortunately I’m going to have to agree with him” Yennefer said, her stoic and direct self. She wasn’t always like that, but she knew when not to show your emotions. He just hoped that she was in fact hiding them, instead of not caring about him at all. “You’re still not saying anything and this hurts us Jaskier. We will find a way but for now, just stop talking, please.” At least he knew that she cared now, but he still couldn’t believe them. How could they just give in? He was going to be fine, everything will return to normal after a drink, some food, and a good night’s rest. Right?

He didn’t know how his plea was heard, but Geralt knew him all too well. Decades of friendship and love making sure they knew each other all better than anyone else on the continent. Knew what the other was thinking when not a word was said. He sat onto the bed, only letting go of his hand to pull him into a hug. One he could not return no matter how hard he tried. He liked the feeling of Geralt being close though, so he didn’t complain. He just had one question, one question Geralt might even understand without actual words.

He would be okay right? This would pass like it was nothing right? “Right?”

He got pulled even closer. His arms still stupidly limb and his neck only staying up because Geralt was holding it.

“I’m sorry Jask.”

The thing was, he knew that he was right. A voice deep inside of telling him that he wasn’t okay for once, but he still chose to ignore it. Ignore Geralt, ignore Yennefer and ignore that voice, because this couldn’t be true.

It just can’t go like this.

“I’ll fix you Jaskier, I promise” He whispered, only pulling him closer. “Just make this easy for us, please”

He didn’t want this. He wanted the life he had back. And yet,

here he was.

Because he thought it was a good idea to fight against that stupid emporer. Because he just felt the need to fight it all. To give up the life he had for one of heroics and heartbreak. Not just following it, but being in the centre of it all.

Only he planned for his heart to break.

Not for him to break his friend's heart.

Not for him to lie there not being able to do anything. Not being able to get up and deal with it in some way.

He didn’t know when the tears started to roll but he knew he was crying. Sobs escaping his throat and they still didn’t sound like his sobs. They sounded lower, like his throat was full of snot from the world's worst cold.

What a shitty way of the world to show him that the heartbreak he oh so romanticised isn’t great. That isn’t worth the one song he might not even be able to write. This wasn’t worth his heroic story he didn’t even get to write until the end.

“I’ll stay with you, Jask, I’ll get you through this.” He’d lie if he didn’t feel a kiss on his hair. He liked it, liked the feeling of still being something to someone. Liked the feeling of Geralt caring for him. “I’ll help you, Jaskier.” His sobs only got louder and he wanted to pull himself even closer to Geralt’s chest, hide in the safety and the warmth of the person he loved most. “I’ll help you through.” He whispered before placing another kiss in his hair. “I promise.”

Geralt didn’t know how long he’d been holding Jaskier, but he knew that they were there for a long time. He held him and pulled him as close as he could, afraid to lose him if he even as much as looked away. He knew that Yennefer left after a while, he wasn’t sure if she grew bored or couldn't take it anymore. Either way he was alone with Jaskier. And he kept crying until his eyes were swollen and red. He didn’t have a lot of energy anymore, even Geralt could see that, but he still wouldn’t go to sleep. He could understand why, sleep always felt like it made things real. Sleep made sure that the next morning you could see what really happened. He knew how tempting it was to tell yourself you were okay, that you’d be just fine and that no one needed to worry their asses off.

It took him long enough to accept Jaskier’s help when he needed it, telling him that he didn’t need help. Not even when stabbed, poisoned, beaten, yelled at, kicked out, or to put it simply, when he was hurt and not okay. Jaskier would always patch him up, no matter how loud he told him that he didn’t need it.

He knew he was probably off way worse, if not dead had Jaskier never helped him.

He mostly realized that in the mornings when that freshly stitched up wouldn't sting as much as before. How he did lose a lot of blood in hindsight. And how he did sometimes need someone to tell him that he wasn’t the monster they made him out to be.

That’s why he didn’t need to think for one second when he found out that he wasn’t okay for once. He already stitched him up before of course, but not like this. Not in a situation this hopeless. But despite the bad view on the future he wouldn’t leave him. Not the man he loved, not the man who helped him through all those bad times.

“I love you, Jaskier.” He got a hold of him and held him upright, looking him in those red swollen eyes. “I love you.”

He saw the other man look up, his eyes just a little bit less sad than before he said those three little words. Geralt gave him one of his most sincere smiles, smiles only meant for Jaskier and no one else. He could see that Jaskier wanted to talk, wanted to say those words back, but he also saw that he gave up without even really trying. Probably feeling just as tired as he looked. Instead he saw him try to smile, which still seemed hard, but he also still seemed to have some sort of degree of control over his face. His lips still didn’t seem to work with him, but his eyes did. Telling him the words unsaid.

“Thank you, I love you too.”

They sat like that for a while, stealing a few more seconds together before Geralt spoke up again.

“You should sleep.”

And with two blinks he lowered him back onto the bed. Only keeping his hand on his cheek, softly brushing his thumb over it. “I’ll be back when you wake up.”

And with those words he saw his eyelids close and heard how his breathing slowed. He still stayed like that for a while, not really wanting to leave his side. But after a while he did. He got up and took one more look at him before he really left the room.

One more glance at him before the real strom settled in.

#geraskier #injured jaskier #hurt jaskier #geraskier fic #asks #paralised!jaskier

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