#all I have to do it put a top coat on this
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strawberriesoup · 3 days ago
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── .✦ A snowstorm forces you to take refuge with Jisung on christmas eve
word count: 6.6k
genre: fluff with a little angst, jisung x female reader, mutual pining, comfort, acquaintances to lovers
warnings: cursing, feelings, reader is down horrendously bad for jisung, kisses, jisung is a sweetheart
a/n: this has been in the works for a while (i’m bad at writing stuff fast) SO IM SUPER HAPPY THAT I WAS ABLE TO GET IT OUT FOR THE HOLIDAY SEASON
any/all feedback is highly appreciated!!
taglist: @jisunggy @holly-here @hannamoon143 @fly-you-dam-fools
if you would like to be added to my general taglist, send me a comment or an ask! <3
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The holiday season is a time for joy, a time to share laughter and meals, a time to wear fuzzy socks and fall asleep watching bad Christmas movies. Well, that’s what it’s supposed to be anyways. It’s a little hard to get into the Christmas cheer when each snowflake swirling outside your windshield is somehow concerningly larger than the last.
Wind whistles past your car as you squint your eyes, trying — and failing— to get any sort of visibility through the rapidly thickening blanket of snow and darkness. The gas light flashes on with a ping. Damn it. Continuing on whilst the best you can make out of your surroundings is a screen of nothingness and the occasional telephone pole doesn’t seem like the best course of action right now.
Eventually, you manage to pull into a small gas station about five minutes away by reluctantly putting your life into the hands of Google Maps.
Blowing warmth onto your hands, white-knuckled from your death grip on the steering wheel, you yank your phone out of the cupholder. Stranded in some dingy parking lot a good forty-five minutes away from your apartment is definitely where you needed to be on Christmas Eve, thanks so much universe. And your feet are cold.
You had really wanted to surprise them. The last time you’d seen your family was back in March, well over half a year ago. You thought Christmas as the perfect opportunity to visit. Just imagining the look on their faces alone was more than enough to spur your enthusiasm. But, then again, you hear the worries in the back of your mind. You hadn’t visited in so long, rarely even sending a text their way. And coming over with zero warning? They might not be as happy as you hoped.
No, of course they would be happy to see you, right? Right. Either way, there’s no way you’re going anywhere tonight.
Warm air from the AC fans across your face as you slump back in your chair, unfastening the top clasp of your coat that suddenly seems to be suffocating you. What do you even do in this situation? Call someone?
Scrolling through your contacts, your eyes alight on a familiar name.
Han Jisung
You face lights up with hope. Didn’t he say something about living around here? You open his contact, immediately faced with the looming call button in the top right corner of the screen.
Jisung is somewhat of an aquaintance of yours. Calling him a friend might be too bold. Being partners on a group project doesn’t automatically equal friendship, but you two had gotten along quite well. At least, you thought so. Maybe that was wishful thinking coming from your fat crush on him and his gorgeous smile, but still.
What are you doing? You hardly know this guy, and you’re going to call him on Christmas Eve night so he can, what, pick you up? You have to admit, the thought sets off little warning bells in your head. But what other options do you have?
Finger hovering over the button, you hesitate for a moment longer before pressing call.
The line rings once, twice. What if he doesn’t answer? He’s probably busy, it is Christmas eve after all. Did he ever mention leaving town for the holidays?
You’re so busy trying to recall previous conversations with him that you almost don’t notice the line picking up before the third ring. Shit, that was faster than you were expecting. Jisung’s voice greets you through the speaker.
“Heyy, what’s up?”
At the sound of his voice, your heart does a little leap in your chest. You take a deep breath before answering.
“Hi Jisung. I, uh, have a bit of a favor to ask.”
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You were right about him living close, because less than fifteen minutes later the bright flash of headlights announces Jisung’s arrival. You know that looking nice should be the least of your priorities right now, but that doesn’t stop you from flipping open the sunvisor and briefly inspecting your appearance.
Jisung’s car door thuds shut as you hop out of your own car, met with a brisk rush of air that fills your lungs, chilling you from the inside out. He wasn’t far, but with the heavy snow you can just make out his form from across the lot. You’re quick to hustle towards his dark sillouette, eager to get out of the cold as soon as possible.
Meeting in the middle sooner than you had expected, both you and Jisung halt in tandem, breaths coming in puffs of condensation. The zipper of his puffer jacket is half undone, complimented by a scarf thrown haphazardly around his neck. His hands that are shoved deep in the pockets of his coat give hint to the fact that he’s probably not even wearing gloves.
Neither of you had spoken a word. The silence is painfully awkward, and you can tell he feels it too, if the way he glances down at his feet in favor of meeting your eyes is anything to go by.
“So, do you—”
“Should we—”
Speaking simultaneously, you both cut your sentences short, falling into a silence that’s somehow louder than the last. God, you had expected it to be awkward but not this awkward. Meeting with Jisung outside of a college setting feels so foreign, the only way you’ve interacted with him thus far has been through school. You can feel your ears burn as Jisung clears his throat.
“Sorry, uh, you were saying?” He pulls his hand out of his pocket to gesture at you, confirming that he is indeed not wearing gloves.
The question hangs in the air as Jisung pushes his glasses up with two fingers and looks at you expectantly. His cheeks are tinted with blush from the prickling cold. Lips slightly parted, his breath hisses through his teeth with every inhale, as if trying to supress them from chattering.
“Oh, yeah,” you begin your sentence again, shaking your head to focus. You’re standing in a parking lot in the middle of an actual snowstorm, now is not the time to be fawning over him. “should we, like, head to your car? I’m freezing. I’ll just leave my car here because it’s— yeah.” You twist around to look at your drab little car. It’ll be fine.
He lets out a little puff of laughter, sending a cloud of frost into the air.
“Yeah, good idea. c’mon let’s go.”
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The car ride to Jisung’s place is less awkward than your experience in the parking lot, but not by much. A comment is occasionally made about the storm, but other than that the ride is filled with silence and the steady swishing of windshield wipers.
Jisung glances at you from the corner of his eye. You’re examining the fluff on your gloves with your head down, not seeming too intrested in conversation.
Or maybe you’re uncomfortable. That would make a lot of sense.
Wincing internally at himself, Jisung draws his attention back to the road and furrows his brow, trying to remember if he’s done something wrong. Although, he supposes that being alone with, well, not a stranger— Jisung would like to think he’s at least a good aquaintance to you— but with someone you don't know too well, is enough to put anyone on edge. He has to remind himself that this was your idea.
When your contact info had popped up on his screen, interrupting his very important business (scrolling), he promptly froze, had an intense mental battle on how he should answer, dropped his phone, picked it back up again, and hit answer, all in the span of about four seconds.
Jisung has to admit he does have a slight thing for you. Well okay, maybe a big thing. Like, he has your class schedule and favorite study spot memorized kind of big. Also you wear your hair up on Tuesdays.
But thats besides the point really.
After what feels like a lifetime of driving and the occasional buzzing of muted christmas music playing through the radio, you two finally arrive at Jisung’s place.
It’s nicer than you had expected. The house is dimly lit, but perfectly tidy. Best of all, it’s warm. Behind you, Jisung’s keys jingle as he hangs them up next to the door.
“Uh, make yourself at home, okay? There’s instant ramen, some milk… actually, that’s about it but hey, at least there’s ramen.” He beckons you in, tugging his scarf off while smiling ruefully at the lack of food options to offer.
“That’s okay, I believe in instant ramen supremacy,” you state confidently, earning a laugh from Jisung as you follow him into the kitchen, resting your weight on the counter.
“A woman after my own heart I see,” He jokes, closing his eyes and placing a hand dramatically over his heart. His knuckles are still flushed pink from the cold.
If only he knew.
You can feel the awkward tension from earlier start to melt away now that you’re here. Thank God, because you were seriously considering going back to your car and just waiting out the night there. You couldn’t do that though. Jisung was so willing to help, coming as soon as you had called. Which is kind of crazy, if you stop to think about it for a second. Going out of your way to drive out in a snowstorm and picking someone up on Christmas Eve would be absolutely out of the question for most people, let alone someone you aren’t even close with.
Jisung is busying himself with running some warm water in the kitchen. He rests one elbow on the counter, testing the water tempature. You find yourself watching his movements, how he runs a hand through his hair, the dark strands dampening with the moisture from his hand, and how his eyebrows pinch in concentration until the tempature is just right. Jisung seems more comfortable and relaxed now that he’s here. He’s not a tall man, by any stretch of the imagination, but his confident demeanor makes his presence seem much larger.
Running his chilled hands underneath the warm faucet to bring the warmth back, Jisung looks to the window. You blink and follow suit. Fortunately, he hadn’t caught you staring.
“Holy shit, we must have made it here just in time,” He laughs incredulously, shutting off the sink and shaking the rest of the dampness from his hands.
The window is completely engulfed in white.
Outside, the wind angrily laments that you’re inside and safe. You can’t imagine being stuck out there in that, alone. Just the thought of it makes your insides churn with a strange mixture of anxiety and relief, and you realize that you haven’t even thanked Jisung yet for saving your sorry ass. You open your mouth, but the words seem to dry up on your tongue.
Jisung tilts his head at you, questioning.
“No for real, I haven’t seen a snow this crazy in a while,” Running your hand along the cool countertop, you fix your eyes on an unlit candle to the left of Jisung’s form. Why can’t you just say thank you? It’s not that hard, yet you find yourself avoiding the two simple words like the plauge.
A beat of silence falls over the two of you, but this time it’s comfortable. There’s no rush or pressure to say anything, just a quiet presence while gazing out at the bright sheet that blankets the night.
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You have an idea.
Is it a good idea? Probably not, but it’s an idea nonetheless.
While you had been absentmindedly thumbing through your Pinterest homepage in an attempt to pass time, you came across a recipe. And not just any recipe, it’s a sugar cookie recipe in the likeness of a snowman. With a little face on it.
The tantalizing image stirrs your sweet tooth, and you glance over at Jisung on the other side of the couch. He seems to be putting an obviously large amount of distance between the two of you, as the entire middle section of the couch remains empty with you and Jisung perched on either side.
“Hey, so… are you any good at baking?”
Jisung’s head jerks up at your question.
“Uhhh. I plead the fifth.”
You find yourself grinning.
“How about this, do you like baking?”
“Now that. Is a different story.” His knees spread apart as he adjusts his position on the couch, slouching lower and crossing his arms across his chest. He looks at you sideways. “What, did you have something in mind?”
You definitely do have something in mind, and it doesn't have anything to do with baking.
“Hear me out,” you point your phone screen at Jisung, who leans in to squint at it. “we make christmas cookies. In the shape of snowmen.”
“You know what, hell yeah. Nothing better to do,” Jisung stretches his arms towards the ceiling, hands balling up into fists. Your wandering eyes betray you, and you can’t help but notice the little sliver of smooth skin that peeks out from where his shirt slides up as he stretches. He needs to stop being so casually sexy right now or you might go crazy. “Cross your fingers though, ‘cause I dunno if I have any eggs.”
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Currently standing in a neat line across the countertop are all the gathered ingredients necessary for the cookies. Jisung had miraculously acquired two eggs from the depths of his fridge, which now sit next to the flour, and you had spent a good five minutes opening and closing cabinets in search of all the dry ingredients.
You’ve baked a couple of times before. Granted, the first time the cookies were still soft in the middle and the second time may or may not have involved the fire department, but third time’s the charm right? You’re determined to make and eat these cookies.
Next to you, Jisung is staring at the ingredients, hands on his hips. Seemingly at a loss, he looks over to you for instructions.
“Okay, step one: combine the dry ingredients…”
So far, so good. Jisung was put in charge of the flour mixture, while you had started the task of creaming the butter and sugar together.
When you glance up to check on Jisung after a bit, you find him leveling out a scoop of flour, meticulously brushing any stray lumps of powder off of the top with a butter knife. His eyes squint in concentration until he is satisfied with the measurement, proceeding to dump it into the bowl. A faint cloud of white powder dusts the air.
You watch him with amusement as he scoops another cup out of the flour bag, starting the whole process over again.
He must have felt you staring, because his head darts up, eyes finding yours. You quickly duck your head back towards your work.
You wonder if Jisung is a perfectionist with most things in his life. He’s mentioned before that he writes and produces music, you figure that has a certain degree of perfectionism to it. Then again, during the car ride here your feet were resting on several bags of fast food from various restaurants. Maybe his perfectionism is selective.
The undeveloped batter clings to the mixer as you switch it off and pull it out of the bowl. You swipe a finger over one of the whisks and pop it in your mouth. It might just be sugar and butter, but hey, that shit’s good.
Turning your head to offer Jisung a taste, you let out a gasp of surprise upon realizing that he’s standing right behind you. He leans forward, lowkey trapping you between him and the counter as he crosses an arm around you to scoop up some of the mixture from the edge of the bowl. Your breath catches at his proximity. His warm breath brushes againt your neck, causing a shiver to run up your spine.
He draws away, licking his finger while you remain frozen in place. What happened to him keeping a good distance from you? You don’t think he even realizes what he just did, because he just strolls on back to his little station, quietly humming a tune as he goes.
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As soon as the oven door slams shut, Jisung is immediately squatted in front of it, dutifully watching the uniform balls of dough through the yellow tint of the oven light.
“You know those will take, like, thirteen minutes to cook, right?” Leaning over the countertop, you raise an eyebrow at his crouched form.
“Thirteen? No way. I’ll basically be dead by then.” Jisung stands up, brushing some of the remaining flour off his pants. That’s when you notice a patch of white just above his left eyebrow. How did that even happen?
You step forward without thinking, reaching up to rub the spot off with your thumb. His skin is ridiculously soft, and you find your treacherous fingers lingering for probably longer than was strictly necessary.
Jisung’s eyes are twice as wide as normal as you pull your hand away. He blinks at you and swallows, causing his throat to bob up and down.
Oh so now he’s flustered. You’re beginning to think your little crush is reciprocated after all.
Momentarily confident, you send him a sweet smile.
“That’s better.”
Jisung doesn't say anything in return, but you don't think you’re imagining the slight red tint to his ears.
Three loud beeps announce that the cookies have completed their oven time and are now ready to be taken out and consumed.
Jisung arms himself with oven mitts and carefully slides the cookie tray out of the oven and onto the potholders that you had placed on the countertop a few minutes prior.
They look good. Like, really good. You can feel your mouth starting to water.
“Holy shit, I think we actually did it! Thank God they didn't catch on fire this time,” you exclaim, poking one experimentally with a finger.
Jisung’s eyebrows fly up and he shoots you a bewildered look.
“I thought you said you could cook??”
“Hey now, I never said that…”
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Throughout the night, you have become painfully aware of the fact that you are wearing jeans.
Thankfully, since you were heading to your family’s house anyways, you have an entire suitcase packed with the works. Your comfy pajamas from last year are sounding really good right now.
Jisung is propped up on the corner of the couch with a cookie in one hand and his phone in the other. His cheeks are stuffed with probably half of said cookie right now, making him look like some sort of rodent. It’s cute.
You need to ask him where his bathroom is to change, but you find yourself hesitating. Jisung looks up at you with a confused expression and a cookie crumb clinging to his cheek.
Realizing that you’re just looming over the side of his couch ominously, you are quick to blurt out your question.
“Do you know where the bathroom is?”
Goddamnit. Of course he knows where his own fucking bathroom is. What kind of question is that?
Jisung, luckily, seems to have found it amusing, his eyes squinting up as he lets out a hearty laugh. Which almost, almost, makes up for the fact that you just asked the stupidest question in the history of mankind. It doesn’t stop your cheeks from heating up though.
“Yeah, I think it’s down the hallway to the left,”
He’s playing along. You wonder if he has any idea how much better that makes you feel as you break into a wide smile and thank him, scurrying off to go grab your…
Suitcase.
Your suitcase. Where was it? You don’t remember bringing it to Jisung’s place, where could it be? Did you- oh. You remember your dingy little car, sitting out there in the gas station parking lot. Your dingy little car that happened to have your suitcase in it.
Sometimes you surprise yourself, because how can one be this much of a mess? Everything has gone wrong tonight, and now this? You couldn’t even make it to your family’s house to surprise them. The weight of it all is beginning to crush you, forcing tears to well up in your eyes.
Stopping in the hallway around the corner, out of Jisung’s eyeshot, you shove your impending emotions down your throat, the roughness of the wall against your fist keeping you steady. You are not going to cry right now. You’ll find a solution. You just need to calm down first. Closing your eyes, you take in deep breaths, letting each exhale push you farther away from tears.
Once you’re sure you have yourself under control, you consider your options. You could ask Jisung for something to wear, or you could remain uncomfortable in your jeans for the remainder of the night. Now, you wouldn’t be upset about wearing Jisung’s clothes, not even in the slightest. They’d probably smell like him, too. How that man always smells so damn good is beyond you.
He’ll understand if you ask him for his clothes. You know he will. Hopefully, he won’t take it in the wrong way. It’s not like you want to wear his clothes, you just have to because you don’t have any other option.
Yeah no, you really just want to wear his clothes.
Rounding the corner, you expect to see Jisung on the couch only to find that he’s no longer in his spot, or in the living room, for that matter. He’s not in the kitchen either (which still has various baking supplies and smears of flour scattered about. You make a mental note to clean that up later). Huh. Maybe he went to his room. You settle down on the couch to wait for him, busying yourself with counting your knuckles.
Sock-padded footsteps cause your head to perk up in their direction. Jisung emerges from his room, closing the door behind him with his foot. His face lights up when he finds you on the couch.
“I wasn’t sure if you had brought any PJs or not, so, I grabbed some things you can wear,” He says, then seems to check himself and quickly adds, “If you want! You don’t, like, have to or anything, just thought I would offer.” In his arms he carries a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.
You could kiss him right now.
“Oh my God, Jisung, are you sure?”
“Yeah, of course, it’s no problem at all.” He reassures you.
Jisung had offered the clothes purely out of wanting to make sure you’re comfortable. Sleeping in jeans is pretty awful and he didn’t see you bring a suitcase or anything. Maybe he also wanted to give you his clothes but that’s irrelevant.
He watches as you skip off to the bathroom to change with a newfound pep to your step. Jisung shakes his head, grinning despite himself. You’re just so damn cute.
This storm might just be the best thing that’s happened to Jisung in a while. Getting to spend time with you? And on Christmas Eve no less. If you’d have told him that yesterday, he wouldn't have believed it one bit. It’s like all his prayers have been answered.
He finds himself wondering, what were your plans before you called him for help? Are you upset that you’re here, at his place, instead of wherever you were heading to? Jisung hopes not. As much as he’s happy you’re here to keep him company, he can’t help but worry about how you’re feeling about the situation.
As if on cue, you appear once again at the entrance to the hallway. This time though, you’re all cozyed up in his clothes.
Jisung’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of you. The sweats nearly swallow your feet whole, and his hoodie— which is oversized in the first place—fits almost comically large on your frame; hanging off of one shoulder.
It’s not the exposed shoulder that gets him necessarily, this isn’t the 19th century, it’s the fact that you’re in his clothes and in his house.
He swallows.
“You look- you, uh, yeah. You look good. Warm?”
Jisung’s reaction tells you all you need to know. You laugh in response.
“Mhm! Add this to the list of things I definitely owe you for,”
“Pshh, nah don’t even worry about it, i’m happy to help,” Jisung figures that if he doesn’t look at you too hard, he’ll be able to keep his brain from short-circuiting. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Sparing a careful glance back up at you, he pats the couch to back up his offer.
The couch dips as you plop down next to him, sporting that smile of yours that has him weak. You had looked so distraught just a couple of minutes ago, and just the simple act of him offering his clothes and a movie had brought your spirits right up. Cute.
Jisung rests his chin on his hand and listens as you lay out your christmas movie options, but he’s only half-paying attention. He knows that he’ll enjoy whatever movie you choose, as long as you’re there to watch it with him.
He also knows that he’s probably more than a little bit head over heels for you.
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The smell of freshly-microwaved popcorn fills the room as you and Jisung take your respective places on the couch, the silent agreement apparently being to keep at least a foot between your bodies at all times
You settle in and get comfortable while the opening credits roll across the screen. Jisung is tossing some popcorn in his mouth, having already eaten nearly half of his bag. You get the feeling that he’s going to be asking to steal some of your popcorn sooner or later.
Even with him being a foot away, you are hyper-aware of his presence. The movie is starting, but you know there’s no way you are going to able to maintain any sort of attention span with Jisung sitting right there.
Still facing towards the screen, you sneak a quick look at him from the corner of your eye, only to find his eyes already trained on you.
The unexpected eye contact makes your heart jump to your throat, and you quickly jerk your gaze back to the television.
Why was he looking at you? Is he still looking? You consider turning again to check, but then decide against it, preferring to live in ignorance for the time being. You’re not sure you can deal with knowing he’s looking at you right now.
Not even ten minutes into the movie, a particularly loud whistle of wind rushes past the windows. The lights flicker once. And then again.
Fuck.
You barely have time to turn and look at a now wide-eyed Jisung before both of you are plunged into absolute darkness.
A small yelp of terror escapes from Jisung, and you feel his weight shift on the couch.
Blinking rapidly as though that would make the lights magically turn back on, you find yourself scooting towards Jisung. A heartbeat of silence passes, with only the sound of your and Jisung’s soft breaths cutting through the darkness.
“The power’s out,” He observes helpfully, voice noticably higher than it’s normal tenor.
“No shit.” You pull out your phone to turn on the flashlight, illuminating your faces. Jisung squeezes his eyes shut at the sudden intrusion of light, peeking one eye open at you after a moment.
The light reveals that he is a lot closer than you had thought. Barely an inch of space was left between your legs, and you swear you can feel warmth radiating off of him. Huh. That little mole on his face is visible from here.
Jisung swallows hard (apparently a habit of his) and quickly combs a hand through his hair, pulling himself up from the couch.
“Hold on, I think I have a candle somewhere,” He still looks a bit frazzled, but heads towards the kitchen nonetheless.
You turn and cross your arms over the back of the couch, illuminating his path.
“You do, it’s on the counter,” You point at it, having noticed it earlier when you’d first arrived. “‘Spiced apple toddy’, huh?”
You grin at the offended look on Jisung’s face as he approaches, candle and lighter in hand.
“Hey! They’re seasonal,” he objects to your teasing, placing the candle on the coffee table.
T he lighter sparks into a flame as Jisung drops back down on the couch and lights the candle, bathing your surroundings in a soft, warm light.
Well. So much for the Christmas movie.
“That sucks, I really wanted to see what was going to happen to Frosty this year,” Jisung mirrors your thoughts with a sigh, crossing one ankle over his leg and shaking his head with a tsk.
You giggle, giving him a light shove on the shoulder. In the back of your mind, you feel like you should be upset about yet another thing going wrong tonight. But how could something be wrong, really, when Jisung is smiling like that. Smiling like that because of you. The thought ignites little butterflies in your stomach.
The power doesn't seem to have any plans to turn on again anytime soon, so you and Jisung break out a deck of cards. Turns out he’s a big trash talker when it comes to competition, which has you laughing your head off at the creative insults he throws at you. Seriously, how does he come up with these?
After losing your third game of speed, you realize that goosebumps have began to form all up and down your arms. Not wanting Jisung to notice, you try to smooth them down as nonchalantly as possible.
Of course, he immediately notices.
“Are you cold?” He furrows his eyebrows in concern, drawing his attention away from his hand of cards to you.
“Nope!” A shiver decides that it’s the right moment to shake your whole body. “Okay maybe a little,” you admit, “but I’m totally fine, it’s not bad at all.”
In all honesty, that was a complete lie. It’s cold as shit. You just hope your smile is enough to distract from your clenched teeth and slightly runny nose.
Jisung raises an eyebrow at you skeptically, obviously not buying it.
“So I guess if I got a blanket, you wouldn't want it, right?”
“Hey, thats not-” you start to protest to him poking fun at you, but your confidence shrivels when Jisung places his cards on the table, batting his eyes at you in mock attention.
It’s flustering, to say the least. He directly offered you the solution to your discomfort, and didn’t really leave you with the choice to say no. Which, you decide, is kinda hot. That seems to describe most of what Jisung does, though.
You drop your hands down on the table in defeat. “Fine. Can I please have a blanket?”
As a response to your request, Jisung simply hoists himself up once more, tapping you twice on the top of the head as he passes.
“Attagirl.”
The sideways grin he flashes you tells you that he knows exactly the effect that that little word had on your insides.
He’s going to be the death of you.
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You had just barely managed to compose yourself when Jisung returns with not one, not two, but an entire armful of blankets. In favor of just dropping them all on the couch, he decides to launch both himself and the blankets onto the couch simultaniously. His legs fly up behind him as he lands belly-down onto the pile of blankets, face buried in the soft fabric.
Whether he’s trying to draw out a laugh or not, you bark out a laugh that’s probably louder than the situation called for. You slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment as he lifts himself up to sit on the empty cushion of the couch.
It’s intresting, the way he moves. Every motion so natural, every curve so perfect, it traps your attention to him like a moth to a flame. His muscles are lean, tensing when he pushes himself up. You follow the lightest trace of a vein trailing down from his bicep to his hand, absentmindedly wondering how his hand would feel in yours. Wondering if he would ever so lightly run his fingers over the back of your hand, your collarbone, your jaw…
“So do you want a blanket or what?” Jisung waves his hand, snapping you out of your head. You hope he hadn’t noticed the way you were essentially ogling him just now. He most likely had though, given how annoyingly observant he’s proven to be.
The corners of Jisung’s mouth quirk up, a witheld laugh brimming behind his eyes. Okay scratch that, he definitely noticed.
Too humiliated to say anything, you take a seat next to him and toss a blanket over your head. The outside noises dim significantly from under the shelter of the blanket. The blanket that— unfortunately for you and your creative imagination— smells quite strongly of Jisung. You find yourself having to refrain from burying your face in the cloth. Because that would be weird.
It’s warm at least. Staying here forever sounds like a good plan.
A wave of fresh, cool air washes over you as the edge of the blanket lifts up to reveal Jisung peeking in at you.
“May I join you?”
You nod, hoping the darkness will conceal your flushed face. Jisung scootches to sit next to you and flicks the blanket back over both of your forms. Darkness encases you once more, only this time you aren’t alone.
Jisung’s phone light shines out, lighting up your faces in such a way that makes you think he might break into some cheesy horror story; the kind that you were genuinely terrified of in second grade.
He’s close. Like, really close. You could count his eyelashes if you wanted.
His eyes crinkle slightly as he gives you a little close-mouthed smile. He looks so lovely right now, you can’t help but smile right back at him. Except your smile definitely isn't lovely since you’re cheesing so hard.
When he chuckles, a breath of warm air puffs over your face, making you warmer than you think you’ve ever been.
Despite being a good bodily temprature already, the urge to wrap your arms around Jisung and bask in his physical presence is getting stronger by the second.
“I’m still cold.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them, such a blatant untruth that it makes your heart speed up.
Jisung’s head drops, shoulders bouncing slightly with silent laughter.
As if your ears couldn't get any hotter than they were already.
“Still cold, huh? You know what’s crazy?” He leans in just a touch further as if about to tell you some great secret, his voice quieting almost to a whisper. “Me too.”
Jisung arm wraps around your shoulders, and he turns you sideways, pulling you flush to him. How you seem to fit perfectly in the curve of his side, you’ll never know. Resting your head down on his shoulder and tentatively reaching a hand up to curl on his chest, you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. His heartbeat pounds in your ear, slower than your own jumping pulse, but much louder.
Wrapped in Jisung’s arms, you are definitely warmer than before. Which—since you really weren’t cold in the first place— has you sweating, the space under the blanket suddenly feeling small and suffocating.
You toss the top of the blanket off of your heads, inhaling the cold, crisp air now available to your lungs.
You’re not sure what comes over you. maybe it was the way that he tilts his head back to lean on the back of the couch, or maybe it was the little sigh he lets out, his breath just barely visible in the chilled air surrounding you. The hand that’s gently rubbing up and down your upper arm definitely isn't helping either.
You reach up and plant a chaste kiss to his cheek.
Jisung instantly tenses under you, every muscle tightening. You pull back to look at him, finding him frozen, staring straight ahead. a gorgeous pink tint graces his cheeks.
Always so confident until he’s the one being flirted with. Cute.
He’s silent and still for just a hint too long, and you start to get worried. Did you read the energy wrong? Was he just being nice?
You open your mouth to blurt out some sort of apology, but Jisung turns his head to look at you, eyes wide, searching your own. Your mouth snaps shut.
“Can you do that again?” His request is quiet and mumbled, nervousness evident in the way his knee starts to bounce up and down rapidly.
You reach up to grab his chin, his skin soft beneath your fingers. He’s real. He’s here and under your fingertips, gazing at you like you hung the moon.
You lean in, but pause to hover just millimeters away from his lips, your breaths mingling in the space between.
It’s not until Jisung makes a noise in his throat that is somewhere between a huff and a whine that you close the final distance between you two.
A white-hot flame ignites in your stomach when your mouths connect, only blazing brighter when Jisung runs his hand up the length of your back to rest it on the back of your head, holding you softly but firmly to him.
He wants you, everything about you. And you want him too, you always have.
When you part, you let out a breathless giggle. What just happened?
It seems as though Jisung is feeling the same way, a look of disbelief of his face as his eyes flick between your own.
“Thank you.” The two words that you’ve been skirting around all night finally slip past your lips.
“For what, the kiss? Anytime, babe.” He sends you an over-exaggerated wink, which of course doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but it is drowned out by the slightly more pressing fact that he just called you ‘babe’.
Not that you mind. At all, actually.
“First of all, I’m the one who gave you the kiss, thank you very much, and secondly I just- well, it just means, y’know, a lot to me that you picked me up… and stuff…” You wince as your confidence audibly dwindles, looking at the couch beside him, “So yeah, thank you. So much. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”
“Hey, hey,” He brings your chin back up to look at him. “Seriously, it was no trouble at all. To be honest, I was so not looking forward to being alone on Christmas eve.” His gaze lightens, “So really, I should be thanking you because this is probably the best thing that could have happened to me.”
His genuine words paired with that soft look on his face make you realize that you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else or with anyone else tonight.
For the nth time tonight, you smile.
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chaossturns · 2 hours ago
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IN WHICH.. chris claims to be too ‘lazy’ while you ride him
𝜗𝜚 dom!chris, riding, swearing, creampie, p in v, fem!reader, pet names
𝜗𝜚 wc: 856
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your choked cries had completely engulfed the room, coming from nowhere else than your mouth as you came undone once again. chris had laid underneath you, an arm folded behind his head, while he enjoyed the sight of your perfect body doing all the job, you struggling to remain on top of him.
"c'mon keep it up, mama. i'm not there yet." chris casually rested his left hand on your hip, a lazy smirk plastered on his face. he was being way too demanding for someone who hasn't moved an inch since you started.
"m'but chris, it's t-too much," you whine, the movement of your hips slowing on his length.
"too much? i thought you were stronger, ma. you that tired already?" chris lifts his hips up against yours the tiniest bit, a smug smirk plastered on his face the whole time.
"just a little bit more and i'm there, you just have to put in a bit more work." chris's hand moved from your waist to your thigh, pulling you down on him a little roughly, making you sink more fully on his dick.
you whimper, your thighs burning as you tried to continue rocking against him.
"you've done a good job so far baby, you really want to stop just before i cum in this pretty pussy?" his smirk shifted into an arrogant grin, and he slowly started to move his hips up against yours, his eyes hyper fixated on your figure on top of him.
"m'no, i-i don't want to stop." you were needy, desperate even to feel his seed coat your fleshy walls, the thought alone adding to your arousal.
a show of satisfaction flashed in his eyes as he heard your reply. chris's hand moved from your thigh to the back of your head and he suddenly pulled you down, bringing you closer to his c he could whisper in your ear.
"then be a good girl and keep going." his warm breath fanning against your ear.
the smug smirk tugged at his lips once more. chris moved his hand down to your hip, starting to put in more effort and move his hips against yours, making sure to keep them at the same rhythm as yours.
"good girl." he mumbled in a low voice, his eyes focused on you. chris's movements were lazy, but still strong enough to keep stimulating you. his hand was now firm on your hip.
"you're doing good mama. don't forget to keep moving your hips." The sound of his raspy voice rumbling in the air.
his hand located on your hip slowly started to move up your body, his touch lingering against your bare skin. chris's touch was hot, it always was, but this time felt even more intense than usual, causing a shiver to travel up your spine.
your hands were now planted on his chest, the speed of your hips quickening their pace.
"hmph, that's more like it." he groans when you picked up the pace, moving his hips faster to match your speed. it didn't take long until a low growl left his lips as the pace grew more and more heated.
"feels good." you moan, new stamina filling your body as you have the need to make chris finish.
"i bet it does baby." a low moan left his lips as he heard your moan. chris began to thrust aggressively into you, his hand on your hip gripping you with more force as he lifted his hips up.
you could tell the laziness was leaving him being replaced with desperation. his lip tucked between his perfect teeth as he watched his dick disappear into you cunt.
chris brings his hand down to your clit, his thumb rubbing on the puffy bud. you throw your head back, mouth agape as small cries and whimpers escape your lips.
"such pretty noises f'me." chris murmurs lowly, his pelvis clashing into you. you moan at his words, squeezing against his aching length, as groan emits from his lips.
chris's hips went to clash against yours more furiously, his hand not letting up on your clit. "god, m'gonna fill you all up," he says, looking up at you with lustful, hungry eyes.
you moan at his words, as you are fulfilled by the pleasure he's giving you.
"i love how you feel on top of me, mama" his voice coming out low and breathy, full of need. chris's thumb leaves your clit, a whine coming from your throat at the loss of contact. they then moved to your thighs, holding them as his dick hit your sweet spot repeatedly.
"oh shiiit, chris." you whined, your nails digging into his chest as he relentlessly thrusted up. "yeah c'mon, make a mess all over my dick," he said, watching as your tits bounced, hypnotizing him in an erotic way. your gummy walls clamped around his length, sending overbearing waves of pleasure crashing through him as you came.
"fuck, ma" chris groaned, his grip on your thighs almost bruising as he coated your walls with his cum, filling you to the brim.
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🏷️: @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @luverboychris @sturnsslut @bigbeefybitch @itsnotmariahh @thenickgirl @thisisntmattsturniolo @sturniyolo69 @luvs4matt @joemamaaa42069 @conspiracy-ash @chrispotatos @watercolorskyy @sturnfannn @emely9274 @strnlslut @jetaimevous @gemzyy @sturn777
​©chaossturns
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thesparkling-diamond27 · 11 hours ago
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My Snowflake❄️
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Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader
Summary: You and your boyfriend spend a fun day in the snow
A/n: This isn’t really a Christmas story, but it can be if you want it to be. This is a continuation of “Meet me under the mistletoe”, but you don’t have to read it to understand, the plot is explained, so prior knowledge isn’t necessary. I hope you enjoy!
Fiyero and I were both currently on my bed. My back was leaning against the headboard and Fiyero’s head was in my lap. Acasionally I would run my fingers through his hair whenever I turned the page.
“How much longer.” Fiyero whined from his spot on the bed.
“Not much longer.” I counted how many pages I had left until the end of the chapter, “I have about 5 pages left.”
Fiyero pouted and I kissed his lips.
“Just a little while longer love I promise.” I said.
Fiyero nodded in defeat before he started to play with one of my hands.
I read a couple more pages before Fiyero said, “Hey look it’s snowing.”
I looked away from my book and out the balcony doors and sure enough it was snowing.
“It is snowing. It’s beautiful.”
It really was a beautiful sight and it was the first snowfall of the year. Fiyero rose from his spot from my lap and walked over to the balcony doors. He looked out at the ground below before a huge smile spread across his face.
“Do you know what we should do?” Fiyero asked as he turned around to face me.
“What?” I asked.
“We should play in the snow?” He said with a smile, but I looked at him confused.
“You want to play in the snow?”
“Yeah it’s fun. Didn’t you do that as a kid?”
I shook my head and that caused Fiyero to immediately rush to my side and sit in front of me on my bed. He gave a look like I just told him that somebody died.
“You’re telling me that you’ve never played in the snow? You never built a snowman, made snow angels, went sledding, or had a snowball fight?”
“No I don’t think so. I lived in the Emerald city where there are a bunch of buildings. There’s no room to do any of that stuff.”
“Well we’re going to change that.”
Fiyero grabbed my book out of my hand and placed it on his nightstand, making sure to place the bookmark where I left off. He grabbed my coat from the coat rack and he held it up for me.
I stood from my bed and I allowed Fiyero to place my coat on me. I put a hat, scarf and gloves on as Fiyero did the same. When we were both suited up we both walked out of my room hand in hand.
On the way to the open field, I couldn’t help, but stare at Fiyero. He was extremely giddy as he began to list all the activities we could do in the snow and he looked like a kid on Christmas morning. It made me smile. Eventually we made it to the open feild.
“There’s enough snow for us to make a snowman. Do you want to start with that?” Fiyero asked.
“I don’t even know where to start so I guess we can.” I said with an excited grin.
Fiyero grinned back and then he led me to a patch of snow.
“Okay well first we have to gather a bunch of snow and compact it into a small ball.” Fiyero demonstrated as he explained. He gathered a bunch of snow and compacted it into a small ball.
Then little by little he added more snow to the small ball of snow and compacted it together. He continued to compact the ball with more snow until he created a small boulder sized ball of snow.
Fiyero stood up and created a tada pose, “Tada! The perfect base for a snowman. Now we just have to do it again, but on top of this one.”
I nodded and together the two of us started to assemble another ball of snow. I carefully watched Fiyero first, before I jumped in and began to help and in no time we had the middle section of the snowman.
Finally we moved on to the last ball of snow, the head, and when we were finished we took a step back and admired our snow sculpture.
“It’s beautiful.” I said.
“Yes it is darling, but it’s not done yet. Now we have to add the face and arms, and the three buttons.”
After Fiyero’s words I wasted no time in looking for sticks for arms. I don’t know what came over me, but all of a sudden I felt happy and giddy. I’ve never built a snowman before and I felt like a kid again.
As I crouched down to the ground to look for a decent sized stick, I didn’t realized Fiyero who was staring at me with a smile on his face.
I found two good sized sticks and I quickly ran over to Fiyero.
“Are these good sticks for arms?” I asked.
Fiyero looked down at the sticks in my hands.
“They’re perfect angel.” He said before he kissed the top of my head. “Put them on the snowman.”
I walked over to the snowman and I carefully stuck the sticks into the sides of the middle snow boulder. I took a few steps back and stood next to Fiyero.
“Now we need to make the face.”
Fiyero said.
He began to search for some pieces for the face and I went and did the same. I found two stones that looked similar enough to be eyes and I walked over to the snowman.
I saw Fiyero placing objects on the snowman’s face. He stepped back and the snowman had a big wide smile and three buttons going down in a line on the middle section. I giggled as I placed the two stones where the snowman’s eyes would be. I took a step back and inspected our work.
“Don’t snowmen have a carrot for a nose?” I asked.
“They do, but since we don’t have any, we’ll have to improvise.”
Fiyero walked up to the snowman and began to draw on his face. He walked back to me and I got a good look at the nose he drew.
It was a good looking nose, but it didn’t look too good on the snowman. I immediately burst into laughter.
“What? Why are you laughing.” But Fiyero was laughing himself.
“That nose looks so weird on the snowman.” I said through laughs.
“Well at least our snowman has a nose!”
My laughter finally died down.
“I suppose so.”
“Well I guess our snowman is complete.” Fiyero stated.
I looked back at the snowman and felt like it was missing something. Then an idea popped into my head. I took my scarf off and I wrapped it between the second and third boulder where the snowman’s shoulders would be.
“Now our snowman is complete.” I said. Fiyero chuckled before he placed a kiss on my lips.
“Now our snowman is complete.”
“Now what?” I asked.
“Well…” Fiyero had a mischievous look on his face and now I was afraid of what he was going to do. Word of advice. If you ever see a mischievous look on Fiyero’s face run before it’s too late.
However, it was too late for me because when I started to make a run for it he threw a snowball at the back of my head. I felt immediate cold as the snow hit my neck and went down my coat. I knew I’ll definitely be cold as soon as the snow melts.
I slowly turned around and saw Fiyero hunched over due to him laughing too hard. Oh so you want to play that game huh I thought. I grabbed a handfull of snow and began to compact it into a small ball.
As the snow molded into my hand I felt it getting firmer, opposite from the fluffy feeling the snow once had before.
Fiyero was too busy laughing, so I used this as my opportunity to pull the snowball back and throw it in the air. The snowball flew through the air in an arc shape, like a rainbow, before it hit Fiyero nice and hard right in the face.
Now I was one hunched over in laughter as I looked at Fiyero’s face that was now covered in snow. Fiyero had a grin on his face. Something that I wasn’t expecting to see.
“Oh it’s on!” Fiyero said before he began to gather some snow to make another snowball. I quickly did the same thing and me and Fiyero started a snowball fight. My first snowball fight.
We hit snowballs at each other to and fro. I hit Fiyero with my snowballs and he did the same. I even managed to dodge a few and I was pretty proud of myself for doing so.
I was now currently hiding behind the snowman we built, while I waited for Fiyero to make his next move.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Fiyero stated from the other side of the snowman and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“What’s the easy way?” I asked.
“You step out from behind the snowman and I hit you with the snowball in my hand.”
I laughed at his idea of the “easy way”. Yeah it was an easy way for him to beat me, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. If I was going to loose, I wasn’t going to go without a fight.
“I think I’ll take the hard way then.” I said.
“Hard way it is.” Fiyero chuckled.
I waited to see what he meant by the “hard way”, but my question was soon answered when something penetrated the snowman and the top half of the snowman fell on top of me. Now I was completely covered in snow.
I screamed with annoyance, but I couldn’t help, but laugh at the same time. Although I lost, and now completely covered in snow, I was having fun. I was having lots of fun.
“Okay you got me.” I said through laughter. “But can I hit you just once and you let me?”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because you love me and since I lost, the least you can do is let me hit you.”
Fiyero looked at me and I gave him my best pout.
“Fine, but only one snowball.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” I said as I began to gather some snow to make snowball. I fully compacted the snow into a ball and I looked up at Fiyero who was standing in a starfish position.
“I’m assuming you’re ready.” I said with laughter.
Fiyero nodded with a smile. I pulled back the snowball before I let it sore through the air and hit him right in the chest. He was pushed back by the force of my throw and fell face first into the snow.
I began to laugh at his fall, but I soon stoped when he laid motionless on the ground. I quickly ran to Fiyero and I quickly threw myself on the ground next to his body. His shoulders were shaking and I could only assume he was crying.
Oh Oz! I just injured my boyfriend.
I grabbed his shoulders and turned him around and my fear turned into relief when I realized that his shoulders were shaking because he was laughing. My relief turned into anger and I slapped his chest after realizing that he was faking.
“Why would you do that! I thought I hurt you!” I shouted.
“It was funny.” He said as he laughed from his spot on the ground.
I hit his chest again, but before I pulled away he pulled me onto his chest. The momentum of his pull caused me to roll over and Fiyero and I began to roll in the snow in each other’s arm.
Laughter left both of our mouths until we made a complete stop. We stopped with Fiyero on top of me and he softly smiled at me before he kissed my lips. I melted into it and I put my hands on the side of his face.
His lips were cold as ice, but his kiss made me feel warm and I felt cold and warm at the and time. After a while Fiyero pulled away and he laid down next to me on the ground. He slowly inched his hand towards mine and he laced our hands together.
I looked at his face next to mine and smiled and he smiled back. Then I looked up at the night sky. The stars were shining extra brightly tonight and I could see the constellations. I smiled when I noticed my favorite constellation.
“Do you see that line of stars there and the two lines that branch out from it?” I asked as I pointed at the constellation in the sky.
Fiyero squinted his eyes and with a little guidance he was able to see the constellation I was talking about.
“That’s the Gemini constellation. Also known as the twins. It’s my favorite constellation.”
“Is it because you’re a Gemini? Fiyero asked.
(A/n: it could be any zodiac constellation if you would like it to be. I just chose Gemini because that’s my zodiac sign)
I nodded.
“My mother and I would go to the roof of our apartment building, lay down on a blanket, and look up at the stars. She taught me all the different constellations in the sky. It’s been a while since I looked at the stars, since I’m here at Shiz now.”
Fiyero said nothing, so I turned to look at him and he was already looking at me.
“Well if you want, the two of us can look at the starts together more often. Since you can’t look at them much with your mom anymore because you’re here.”
“Really?”
“Really. If you love to do it. Then I love to do it.”
I smiled at his words.
“I love you.” I said.
“I love you too.”
We smiled at each other before we both looked up at the sky. We both sat in silence in the cold and in the snow. I’m sure that tomorrow morning we would probably be sick in bed.
“So we built a snowman, which is now destroyed, and had a snowball fight, so now what?” I asked.
Fiyrero thought for a moment before saying, “Since we’re both already on the ground, why don’t we make snow angels!”
“How do we do that?” I asked.
“Your little knowledge of playing in the snow makes me so sad.”
“I guess these fun activities are a Winkie Country tradition.” I said.
“I guess so. Just like how the mistletoe is a tradition from the Emerald City.”
I nodded.
“You must have thought I was so stupid for not knowing the purpose of hung mistletoe.”
“I didn’t think you were stupid. I just thought you weren’t getting any of my hints!”
“Well I wasn’t, but not in the way that you thought.”
I giggled thinking about when Fiyero was confused with why I was so “obsessed” with mistletoe for a week. Only for me to come and find out that he didn’t know that mistletoe was meant for kissing.
“Well you know now.” I said.
“Yeah I do.”
Then I realized we got sidetracked.
“Snow angels.”
“Right.” Fiyero said. He scooched away from me a little bit, so that we both could have enough room to make a snow angel.
“Now you lay on the grand in a star position like this.” Fiyero said as he laid in the snow like a starfish. Just like how he was earlier except he was now laying on the ground.
“Then you move your arms and legs like this.” He started to move his arms up and down and his legs side to side.
After looking at what Fiyero was doing, I copied his actions and after a while Fiyero and I stood up to look at our snow angels. I looked down at them and they in fact looked liked angels in the snow.
“They do look like angels!” I said.
Fiyero chuckled at my excitement and nodded.
“I want to make another one!” I said. I walked over to a clear patch of snow and laid down to make another one. Fiyero laughed at my antics before he joined me in the snow.
We made about a dozen more snow angels, 6 each, and now we looked down at our garden of snow angels.
“What a masterpiece.” I said.
“An all over the place masterpiece, but still a masterpiece nonetheless.”
I lightly punched him in the ribs and he lightly pushed me in return.
“Does this commence our day of playing in the snow?” I asked.
“I would say no, but I don’t have a sled for us to slide down on, so I guess our day in the snow has come to an end.”
I pouted and Fiyero brought me into his arms.
“We could play again in the snow tomorrow snowflake.”
“Snowflake?” I looked at him curiously.
“Well we just finished a pretty fun day in the snow and I want to commemorate the day somehow. Snow doesn’t sound right, and I already call you angel (snow angel), so snowflake is the only choice. It’s snow and it describes you. Graceful, and delicate, but strong at the same time.”
I smiled at his explanation. “I love it.”
“Good because you’re my snowflake.”
Fiyero brushed his nose against mine and rested his forehead on my forehead. I didn’t want this moment to end, but I pulled away.
“I love this moment and all, but I’m freezing.” I said with chattered teeth.
“Let’s get you inside then.” He brought his arm over my shoulder and began to guide me back to the dorm, but I stopped him.
“Wait can we build the snowman once again?”
Fiyero looked back at the snowman and then back at me. My nose and cheeks were probably a crimson red and my lips chapped, which is probably why Fiyero had a conflicted look on his face. However, he could never say no to my pleading and the two of us began to rebuild the snowman.
About half of the snowman was destroyed, so we had to build the top part of the second snow boulder and then the head. When we finished again, we looked at our snowman one more time before we left to go back into the dorm.
We arrived back to my dorm and I shivered as I took off my coat.
“I’m going to take a shower just to warm up.” I said.
“Okay take your time.” Fiyero said with a smile.
I smiled back and then retreated to my roommate and I’s shared bathroom. I took my time with washing my hair, and then scrubbing off all the snow that I acquired (mainly from Fiyero).
Once I was done, I was all toasty and warm and I got dressed in the bathroom, before walking into my room to see Fiyero laying on my bed.
“Took you long enough. My shower was quick and easy. I’ve aged 30 years waiting for you to be done.” Fiyero said.
“I wanted to warm up, because someone thought it would be a good idea to dump a bunch of snow on me with their snowball.”
“Hey don’t hate the player hate the game.” Fiyero said with a smirk.
I laughed at his words, but I still chucked him in the face with one of my pillows, which caused him to laugh. I climbed into my bed and found my usual spot in Fiyero’s arms. He began to play with my hair, something he usually did.
“Thank you.” I said.
“For what?”
“For making me feel like a kid again.”
“Well in that case, you’re welcome snowflake.” He kissed the top of my head.
“That nickname is going to stick isn’t it? No pun intended.”
Fiyero laughed. “I’m afraid it will darling.” And then he brought me into a sweet and gentle kiss.
The next morning, I woke up and something felt off. I felt something in my throat, so I coughed a wet cough before I sneezed. Well I guess my predictions last night were right. I did get sick I thought.
I look over at Fiyero who was still snoozing with his arm around my waist. I slowly lifted his arm off of me, careful not to wake him, and I made my way to the balcony doors.
I looked down below and saw the snowman that Fiyero and I built. It was still standing in the frigid cold and that brought a smile to my face. I wonder how long it would last. A couple days maybe? A week? I smiled at the thought.
Playing in the snow was something I would never forget and it’s all thanks to Fiyero. I know for certain that playing in the snow will be something the both of us will do more often.
I heard a series of coughs and I turned around to see Fiyero sitting up in bed. He wiped at his eyes and he honestly looked awful, but he still looked handsome in my eyes. He probably was sick like me.
I cleared my throat before I said, “Hello love how are you feeling?” I walked back to my bed.
“Awful.”
I laughed before I climbed back into bed.
“Me too, but we have all day to do nothing in bed.”
“Sounds like a perfect day.”
And before I knew it Fiyero had pulled me back into bed and shortly after we both fell back asleep in each other’s arms
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stxrslutrestored · 6 hours ago
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LET HIM REST
pairing; s4 jj maybank x cupcake reader
summary; it's safe to say jj may have crashed out tonight, and you are the only person he can turn to. so you make it your goal to get him taken care of, and at least a little content after the turmoil of tonight
content; hand job, mommy kink, titty sucking, adjacent to s4 plot
authors note; re upload!
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jj is pacing around your room, hands on the back of his head, breathing erratically. you’re sitting on your bed. his boots are loud against the wood floor which is the exact opposite of what he’s supposed to be being right now. he’s supposed to be laying low and that involves staying quiet so that anyone going past or around the house wouldn’t hear him. 
“jay.. just.. just sit down.” you sigh, trying to get him to be calm, but he doesn’t listen. he’s limping a little, only because he’d jumped off a roof after starting a whole fucking riot, not a big deal at all. 
god, if you weren’t being the responsible one here you’d burst out crying. he’s being so frustrating, you need him to be calm so you can be calm. 
“can’t— I can’t fuckin’ do this anymore!” he yells and kicks the wall, making you flinch. you need him to calm down. 
“jj.. jj please. please sit down.” you stand now, placing a hand on his arm only to be pushed away. you sigh, “jj.” the agitation in your voice is made obvious by the weary sigh you let out. 
“shit.” he kicks the wall again, it cracks a little. you’re not sure if it’s sweat or tears coating his cheeks, maybe both. 
“come here jj,” you pull him back, speaking with only a little forcefulness in your voice. “please sit down… please.. let me help you.”
he complies, though he’s still agitated and probably still ready to break something. you guide him to sit down on the bed where you were before and then you take a place next to him. you put an arm around him and rest your head on his shoulder in an act of attempted comfort for both him and you.
jj reaches a breaking point right about now, you think. now it is tears. you're certain of it as his breath becomes ragged and his body begins to shake with small sobs that he's trying ever so hard to hold back. 
“jj… oh jj dont cry.” you rub his side. you feel so much sympathy for him in this moment, his whole world has fallen apart in the last few days. there's no legitimate solution that you can offer him. the least you can do at this point is try to help him get his mind off of it. “what do you need? tell me what you need, jj.” 
he sniffles, “just.. just don’t wanna think about it okay. don’t wanna talk.” okay, you can do that, you can not talk. you press your lips into the side of his arm. he needs a distraction, you can do distraction. 
“hey… why don't i look after you for a bit… take your mind off it.” your hand goes to rest on his leg as you look up at him from where you are. his eyes are red and sore, filled with excess tears. 
he sniffles almost pitifully but he nods, realising now just how much he needs a distraction. “yeah,” his voice is breathless, from the tears and the yelling. “please.” 
your hand begins to run up his leg, stopping when it reaches the top of the zipper on his jeans. “just concentrate on me, okay. i'm gonna take real good care of you baby.” you pull it down, revealing his boxers which you also pull down by the waistband.
he exhales shakily, leaning back on his arms. you pull him out of his pants and slowly begin to work him with your hands. it doesn't take much to arouse him, despite all the turmoil, it's still jj. 
you start to jerk him off, slowly at first, you don’t want it to be over too quickly. when you’re sure he’s ready you begin to move. 
you guide him and reposition gently to have him laying down on his back, you get onto your side next to him. your hand keeps working on his dick with a practised skill.  
you don’t quite notice when his hand comes up to tug on the neck of your shirt. it takes you a moment to realise what he wants, but when you do you’re happy to comply. you pull the clothing off, revealing your tits to him. his lips part and he moved himself over to easily attach his lips to your nipple. 
“mmh.. m— ma-” he’s babbling incoherently, but it’s okay, you know what he wants to say. you’ll let him say it. 
“it’s okay baby… mama’s gonna take care of you. s’all gonna be okay.” you murmur, free hand tangling in his hair whilst you keep jerking him off. 
his whole body is reacting. his hips buck and jerk and his stomach ripples though you don’t see it through his clothes. he keeps letting out noises too, whimpers and whines, ones you know that he only lets out when he really needs to. 
you don’t care that your nipple will be sore after this, you don't care that your arm will ache from moving it like this, you don’t care that you’re not receiving an ounce of pleasure. you love this boy, you need to take care of him otherwise you’ll be good for nothing. 
jj’s hips move more, you can tell he’s approaching a much needed climax. you keep going until he cums, making a mess on the sheets and both of your clothes but you don’t care. 
“oh.. there you go.” you make sure he rides it out, and when he does you let go and bring your hand up to rub his side. 
“felt good.” he breathes out, his mouth is still not fully detached from your boob but you pay no mind, he has needs. 
“yeah.. I’m glad.. you just relax now okay.. just relax.” you stroke his head as he settles down to shut his eyes. he’s still messy but it’s okay, you’ll clean him up when he’s asleep. get him changed too, his clothes are mucked up and ripped. 
but for now, just for now, you’re going to let him rest. 
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starrycassi · 2 days ago
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Zaunite Sign Language
We see in the show that touching foreheads with one another seems to be a very intimate thing to do for Zaunites. It is not necessarily romantic, but signals to a deep, strong bond between those who do it. Well, since Zaun was clearly a mining town, I think this habit comes from those times. We also see Felicia putting her fingers to her forehead as a way to greet her children, which could just be coincidence but I am insane and refuse to believe that coincidences exist in this show.
I think that, as deeply clothed as miners have to always be, letting someone else touch your forehead and general face eventually became a sign of intimacy between them, since it was one of the completely exposed areas of the body. Now, I know we see young Vander and Silco with not-so covering clothes (edit: yeah they put on those big ass coats. for some reason I forgot while writing this lol), but I’m being a bit more realistic here. I have family that lives somewhat close to Mina del Limón, which is a mining site here in Nicaragua, and people usually try to cover themselves up to avoid getting dirt directly on the skin, since a lot of the times this not only gets them dirty but ends up in mean rashes or other sorts of skin infections, depending on what layer of soil they’re working on at the moment.
All of this to say: I think Zaunites have a lot of signs that involve touching your forehead and involve only one (the other one usually busy with a tool or doing something else), since the noise in the mines would make spoken communication difficult and you can not just stop and walk over to someone in the middle of an excavation and signaling on other parts of your clothes would be harder to see if your hands are covered with soot, since their main light source would come from the helmets, ergo: their forehead/face would be the best illuminated part of their bodies. I headcanon things like touching up their index and pointer finger to their foreheads to then flick them up would mean things like “I’ve got you”, dragging their finger across their entire forehead “This is over/We can leave”, dragging their fingers from top pf forehead to tip of nose would be “I’m down/Can’t keep going/Help me/I need assistance” and so on. In a lot of circumstances where normal communication is stunted, languages tend to develop in other ways (like the Silbo Gomero, a whistled language in Canary Islands developed due to the distances)
I also think that, eventually, this evolved in Zaunite Sign Language (in a similar way to how Nicaraguan Sign Language evolved), which is what I personally Isha as being able to speak. I think almost everyone would know the very basic signs, since their parents teach them before they start going to work (and we see a lot of children working, so, very early) and these children would eventually teach their peers, even the ones that don’t work on the mines, so it’s a fairly widespread way to communicate. Add to this the time after the revolution, where a lot of miners would surely need to go into hiding for a time if they survived, or even before that, when they were planning and could not risk people hearing them — those would be circumstances that would surely foster and improve these signs!
I don’t know, I just really like linguistics and am a huge sucker for the development of cultural communication methods. Does this make any sense. Does any care. Should I expand on this. I mean I probably will because this blog has become a warped version of my journal but I still have to ask. To be polite.
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twola · 1 day ago
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All is Calm, All is Bright
This is my entry for the @rdrevents #rdrSecretWinterExchange! Its the first time for me to participate in something like this and I had a ton of fun doing it!
the prompt was: johnigail and/or marston family centric - marston family’s first christmas on the ranch
PG13-ish? Language (hey - it’s Red Dead) and there’s some insinuatin’ of things that married folk do. Happy holidays @vittoriaisfuckingpathetic!
God damn woman, goddamn woman with those goddamn pretty eyes, and evil smile and…
Oh, who is he kidding? That woman’s got him wound tighter than a two-dollar watch. That’s why he’s heading into Blackwater when the prairie is cold as dickens and he feels like he froze his ass off on this ride into town. The grey clouds cast darkness over the land, and though sunset is a few hours off, it is dark enough to lose one’s way easily.
John Marston groans underneath his heavy coat, tucking his head into the open collar, “C’mon now boy, just get me into town and I’ll getcha all the damn treats that you want.” 
The roan Tennessee Walker beneath him nicks its head up, neighing in discomfort against the wind rolling off Flat Iron Lake. Blanketed in white, snow covering the prairie, he can barely see the trail ahead of him, having to rely on muscle memory and his sense of direction to get to Blackwater.
“It’s Christmas. The first time the boy’s been in a home for one, hell, it's the first time I’ve been in a home for one. Probably you too.”
Abigail, as always, was right. Her voice rings in his ears, and though he wants to grumble terribly, it warms him to see her smile as he leaves. Seeing excitement in Jack’s eyes, for the first time in a very long time. Fortunately, It's not long before he comes upon that old white church on the top of the hill heading into town - he’s able to urge his horse to trot faster down the well-traveled road, where hoofprints and wagon tracks have the ground visible underneath the snow. 
The plod of his horse's hooves change their tenor as he reaches the cobblestone main streets of Blackwater. It's a sound that he bites back a derisive comment to - much preferring the soft, muted sound of his horse walking on the open prairie. When John reaches his destination, he slides out of the saddle and hitches his horse to a post in front of several shops. He brushes snow off of his shoulder as he quickly moves toward one of the shops.
Blackwater Sundries - Family Owned since 1895
The bell above the door rings as he pushes the door open, quickly closing it behind himself to stave out the cold wind.
“I’m here to pick up an order under the name Marston.”
The young woman behind the desk smiles before turning to the table behind and her, grabbing a wooden crate. She struggles, slightly, hoisting it to the counter, and John leans over the counter to steady her by taking the crate's edge. 
“Thank you kindly, Mister Marston. This here’s got a smoked ham, a can of candied yams, a can of asparagus, a wrapped fruitcake, and a bottle of my momma’s mulled wine. She just made it this morning. A Christmas gift for everyone who made an order with us.”
“That’s mighty kind of her, Miss.” John slides the crate closer to himself on the counter. He digs one hand into his satchel for the envelope of money that Abigail had sent with him for the order. Placing it down on the counter, he gazes once over the crate and its contents, “Miss, do you possibly have a sack to put this all in? I only have my horse, ain’t brought my wagon.”
“Course, Mister. Let me wrap up the bottle in extra canvas.”
After the girl wraps all of the items carefully in canvas and finally in a large sack, she holds it out for John to take,  “Ham is already spiced and smoked, so just have your wife warm it up in the oven. Yams and asparagus just on the stovetop. Shouldn’t take more than an hour and you’ll have a nice spread.” She states cheerily as John shoulders the sack.
He snorts to himself as he nods a farewell, striding back to the door and the howling wind outside. Blessedly, this was one meal that Abigail would not be able to ruin. He loves that woman from here to hell and back, but Lord, cooking wasn’t one of her strong suits.
John braces himself against the cold as the door swings open, gritting his teeth against the blustery wind that rushes through the city street. Cursing to himself again, he quickly secures the bag to his horse’s rump, taking a moment to dig in his satchel for a peppermint candy that he feeds the Walker before unhitching him and climbing up.
It’s a cold, long ride back to Beecher’s Hope, and night has truly fallen by the time John can see the glow of lights from the main house. He leads the horse to the barn, opening the two large doors and bringing the Walker to one of the stalls where he had shoveled fresh hay into. John brings his hand down the horse’s mane affectionately as he unties the bag of items and pulls the saddle from the horse’s back. Once the Walker is settled, John shoulders the bag and heads back outside, walking quickly up to the house, pushing inside the door seeking warmth.
“Pa’s back!”  John hears his son shout from down the hall as he closes the door behind him. He shrugs some of the snow off his shoulder before kicking his boots off on the threshold. 
“Go on and help him then!” Abigail shouts from the kitchen.
“Sir -” Jack bounds into view and holds his arms out and John hands him the sack of goods, “Mind the bottle in there.”  The boy nods and carries the sack carefully toward the kitchen.  
John finishes kicking his boots off and shrugs his wet coat off as well, hanging it on a peg near the door. He treads forward, further into the house, where the main room is brightly lit with sconces, candles, and oil lanterns to fend off the darkness of the night. Abigail has hung pine boughs on the mantle, cut from the trees on the furthest north reach of the ranch, right as it borders Tall Trees. The scent of pine wafts through the house, and John has to stop and survey the room, so filled with life, even in the darkness of the season.
Abigail flutters around the house like a madwoman, taking the bag from Jack and immediately running back into the kitchen. She orders the men of the house around as if she is in the army - wash up, change your shirt, Uncle, I swear to god if you drank John’s good whiskey you will sleep in the barn tonight -
By the time that he, Jack, and Uncle return in some state of cleanliness, Abigail has warmed up the food and placed it out on serving plates on the table. John cannot help but to stare at the bounty of it all - he was so far removed from the starving kid stealing bread at Jack’s age. Even far removed from eating Pearson’s stew around a campfire.
“Sir?” Jack waits patiently, his hands on the chair in front of him.
“Go on now, sit down and let’s eat.” John waves his hand at the table as he pulls out his own chair, and the clank and clatter of forks and knives on plates as food is served fills the room.
“And look at this - the Christmas spirit has even gotten to a sour ol’ bastard like John Marston o’er here.” Uncle guffaws between swigs of whiskey straight from the bottle, obviously having had quite a few sips before dinner even started.
“Old man, I swear-” John points his fork menacingly at Uncle.
“It’s Christmas, John. Have a heart and don’t abuse the elderly, for once.” Uncle retorts, to which John rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to threaten the old man, as per usual.
Abigail glares from across the table and John swallows his insult, breathing out his nose as he spears a piece of candied yam.
Soft conversation continues through dinner, the teasing and retorts that usually take up the table are blessedly absent - for once. John glances up from his empty plate across the table to his wife, and the smile that she gives him makes the hardened gunslinger blush - blush - of all things.
She mouths a “thank you” as Uncle drones on about how his stories are better in every way than Jack’s books - his son interjecting about how Uncle is no literary luminary. Laughter floats through the house - flashes of the quiet, empty room when he had just built the house dance behind John’s eyes - he is so thankful those days are behind him.
The dessert is served and eaten, conversation remains light and cheerful. For tonight, at least, work at Beecher’s Hope is forgotten - the crush of debts or ‘success’ at ranching. 
“Alright now, Jack - go on and wash up and head to sleep. It's past your bedtime.” Abigail points one finger at her son as she finishes her glass of mulled wine and John can swear he sees a blush in her cheeks that he had not seen in years. After Jack grumbles for a moment and bids everyone good night,  Abigail clears the table and with a yawn, retires, walking behind John and kissing him on his brow on her way back to their bedroom.
John has a few more glasses of whiskey with Uncle before they retire, recalling glory days gone by. Uncle’s storytelling gets more and more ridiculous with each drink - One-Shot Kid my ass. Mumbling something about how his lumbago ails him, Uncle schleps over to the couch. For once, John does not scold him about getting up to his place in the attic. Perhaps it was this ‘Christmas spirit’ that Abigail had gone on about. Standing up from the table, John rights the mostly empty bottle of whiskey as he looks up at the clock on the wall, another contraption Abigail insisted on furnishing this house. It’s past midnight - technically Christmas at this point. He sighs, slowly strolling down the hall to his son’s room.
He checks on Jack, pushing his door open ever so slightly. The boy has fallen asleep with his oil lantern next to his desk still on, a book open across his chest. John frowns, stepping fully into the room and making his way over to the bed as quietly as he can. He gently, carefully extracts the book from Jack’s grasp, placing it down on the bedside table; open to the page that his son had been reading. 
John lingers, his finger on the switch to the lamp. The orange glow of light casts shadows through the room, and for a second, he swears the boy in the bed is a ragtag child, dirty and angry, saved from the gallows by wayward outlaws.
He shakes his head at the vision as he turns off the lantern, plunging the room into darkness. As his eyes adjust, he quietly makes his way back to the hall, pausing once again to look upon his son, silently swearing to himself that Jack will never have to live as he did at this age.
He yawns, rolling his shoulder as he walks back into the dining room, past the leftovers of the veritable feast they had for the Christmas meal, not bothering to clear it up until morning. Idly scratching his bicep, he winces slightly at the pull in the muscle - even after all these years, there are dull aches from the bullet wound he obtained in Roanoke. Brushing off the pain, he continues down the hallway, to his and Abigail’s bedroom. He quietly opens the door, expecting his wife to be fast asleep this late in the night.
He’s surprised when she isn’t, the fireplace blazing and sconces lighting the room.
Abigail lounges upon the bed like some expensive lady of the night, her long chemise lacy and near translucent in the night. Jesus, she’s as beautiful as she was at eighteen when he couldn’t have enough of her. 
“Thank you, John.” She whispers softly. He almost can’t hear her, so enraptured by the sight of her with her long hair unbound, laying out on that bed.
Abigail nicks her head upward with that sly grin that stole his heart. John raises his eyebrows in questioning as he follows her motioning - finding a bright green sprig of leaves hung over the bed frame, tied with a red length of yarn.
“C’mon over here, gunslinger.”
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mugloversonly · 1 day ago
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Santa is coming to town
Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: FORMAL wc: 860 rating: G CW: NA AO3 summary: Steve gets an invite to the Band Christmas Party.
It’s Christmas Eve and Steve’s so excited to see Eddie again. It felt like it’s been years since he last saw him, when really it’s been two weeks. The knock at the door startled him slightly. He thought he was meeting up with Eddie at Wayne’s?
He ran to open it to see...a fed? A man in a three piece suit with an earpiece stood on his porch, sunglasses on even though it was getting dark already.
“Can I help you?” Steve asked, barely opening the door. The man stared for a moment.
“Are you Steve Harrington?” He asked. Steel immediately went up his spine. His hand inched behind the door for his bat.
“Who’s asking?” The man didn’t respond. Instead he reached into his coat pocket and handed Steve an official looking envelope and a garment bag.
“Correspondence from, Theodore Munson.” He said before he walked away without a backward glance. Steve furrowed his brows as he opened it.
Steven Harrington,
You are formally invited to the Crossroads Records
Annual Christmas Party, Christmas Eve, 1986.
Dress code is black tie.
William D.
Steve tossed the bag onto the couch and stared at the message for ten minutes before his phone rang. He ran to answer it. “Hello, Harrington Residence.” He said on autopilot as he reread the letter.
“Stevie! Did you get my letter?” Eddie’s voice boomed through. Steve chuckled...he must have timed it.
“Yeah.” Steve sighed.
“So, you’re coming?” Eddie asked hopefully. He wanted to say yes, he assumed the garment bag had formal attire for him, but…
“I don’t want to cramp your style, Eds.” Steve said softly. “I’m just a regular guy, I don’t want to make it weird.” There was a long pause.
“You listen to me Steve Harrington. You are not ‘just’ anything. You are not some groupie or something. You are my boyfriend. And I want the people to know you, to see you.” Eddie answered. Steve’s breath hitched.
“Are you sure?” Steve whispered.
“I want everyone to know, that you’re mine. And I’m yours.” Steve gasped softly as a few tears escaped.
“If you say so.” Steve whispered.
“Thank you, I’ll pick you up tonight?” Eddie asked. Steve agreed on a time and they said their goodbyes.
Steve opened the garment bag on the couch and gasped. A beautiful three piece suit, complete with a silk neck tie, stared back at him. He reminded himself to thank Chrissy.
~~~
Steve stood outside to wait, not willing to give up a single moment of time with Eddie. That turned out to be a great idea when an honest to god sleigh came to a sudden halt in front of him. It was pulled by three reindeer, thankfully it had a top, and it was bright red. The door thrust open and Eddie stepped out in all his glory.
Steve imagined what Eddie’s formal wear would look like, he’s seen the magazine covers, he knew the man didn’t really ‘do’ black tie. But, he was stunning. Black suit pants and coat to match Steve’s but his had glitter in the seams. No shirt underneath, simply a few necklaces with his signature rings on his fingers. Eddie pulled him inside and he was shocked to see Wayne and Robin.
“He send you a fed to invite him too?” Steve asked the two.
“He drags me to this thing every year. I told him don’t bother sending an invite, just the suit.” Wayne sighed; resigned to his fate.
“Yeah! Talk about scary, I mean...who sends a random dude with an earpiece to hand someone an envelope and a fancy suit.” Robin said. Steve smiled at Eddie. He made sure to put Robin in a similar suit to all of theirs. Her tied was a bow tie, though.
“Sorry! I didn’t know he looked like a fed!” Eddie said as if this wasn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation. “Besides, I needed you there, Chris will stress herself out and I figured, you could relax her.” Eddie said slyly. Robin froze at that.
“Chrissy! She’s going to be there? Why didn’t you say anything?” Robin shouted. As she worked herself into a real panic, Wayne reached over to reassure her. Steve took the moment to kiss Eddie softly.
“Merry Christmas.” He whispered.
“Told you, I’d be here.” Eddie said smugly.
“And springing the party on me?” Steve asked with pursed lips.
“I didn’t want you to have time to think through that we’re going to a label party. So, there will be a lot of famous people.” Eddie rushed out.
“You’re lucky, I love you.” Steve said. The three other people in the sleigh gasped, but Steve ignored two of them. “Really?” He asked quietly. But Steve heard it, he heard the insecurity.
“Eds I’ve had a crush on you since 1980. Since the talent show in the eighth grade.” Steve said. “Even if you didn’t do what you do now, I would still want to be right here.” Eddie chuckled lightly. “Of course I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He whispered as he kissed him again. God it was good to have him home.
tags
@katyawriteswhump
buy me a coffee
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sunnysidesevenup · 2 days ago
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The first time Fellow ever helps Tilly.
just a little scene I cooked up, read under the cut!!
pspsps foxglove fans @jadelover69 @kirexa @lallopsyou
Fellow sighs, pulling his thin coat closer and readjusting the bag in his hands. It’s late, far, far too late to be going on a grocery run—but he and Gidel had run out of food and they needed to eat something. So, of course, he’d headed out into the cold to retrieve something for them to eat, leaving his brother at home to do… well, whatever he wanted to do. No need for the both of them to make the long, annoying trek to the grocery.
If Fellow had it his way, they would have moved somewhere a bit more convenient to get general supplies, but it’s not like they could afford that at the moment. One day.
He turns down an alleyway, having made this exact run numerous times before and knowing by now the quickest route, only to stop short. There’s humming coming from deeper in the alley, and with an air of dread, he immediately realizes who it is.
Why, genuinely, why is this guy always there to annoy him? He just wants some peace for a day or too, not to turn down one of his regular paths and get harassed.
Unfortunately, it’s late. Too late in the day for Fellow to put up with this, but also too late for him to turn and take the longer route. Hopefully he can just get by with minimal interaction, at best.
As he walks down the alley, mind made up, his prediction is instantly confirmed. There, seated on some random crates, humming to himself, is the object of his current stress dreams.
Tilly doesn’t seem to notice him till he’s passing right by, though, which Fellow was initially grateful for until he realized how odd it was. It caused him to slow down as he passed, enough time for the man to actually notice someone was there.
Green eyes immediately catch his own, and Fellow pauses. “What the hell happened to you?” He blurts out.
Tilly blinks at him, eyes a bit glassy. “Oh, it’s my favorite fox!” He says, but it comes out weirdly airy and not all there. There’s a significant lack of intensity to it, and considering the bruising covering one side of his face—and even his arms, now that Fellow gets a good look—there might be a reason for it.
“Did someone finally beat you up?” Fellow asks, unable to just move on. Tilly definitely had it coming, but it’s… weird. This whole thing is weird.
Tilly giggles, like the thought of being beaten up is a particularly funny one. “Yeah.” He responds after a bit, and then lets his head fall back onto the bricks behind him. He immediately winces, holding his head, and Fellow reevaluates his intelligence.
“Damn, I think you’ve got a concussion.” He muses, the glassy look and slightly strange (well, stranger than normal) behavior being an indicator. “Go get that looked at, or something.”
It’s not that he cares, but… this is not the Tilly he’s used to, and he doesn’t really like it, much to his confusion.
Tilly waves a hand. “It’ll… it’ll go away.” He mutters, and then laughs again. “I’ll just sleep it off, good as new…”
And then he lays down right on top of the crates, leaving Fellow staring at him, processing.
The beastman feels his eye twitch. “…The hell are ya’ doing? It’s cold, go home.”
The man’s eyes, which fluttered closed at some point, flicker back open and settle their unsteady gaze back on him. “…home?” Tilly asks, genuine confusion in his voice. He then blinks and shakes his head. “No, I’m sleeping here tonight.” He says.
“Stop being stubborn, just go to wherever you’re staying.”
“I’m staying here.”
Fellow’s scowl deepens. “Stop being difficult. Do you need help walking, or somethin’?! You’ll freeze to death if you stay out here, ya’ don’t even have a coat!”
Tilly sits back up, although it looks like it took some effort, and then stares at him unblinkingly. “It’s fine!” He says, in a weirdly reassuring voice, and then reaches out and pats Fellow’s shoulder with a drowsy smile. “I stayed here last night too, and I’m not dead, so it’s okay!”
With a sudden, startling realization, he realizes that Tilly isn’t being stubborn, but he is being incredibly, horrendously stupid. So stupid, in fact, that he feels almost personally offended by it. This is the guy who’s been giving him trouble nonstop, harassing him, ruining all his plans?
He adjusts his bag of groceries, and then reaches out and throws Tilly over his shoulder.
This course of action, surprisingly, meets zero protest from Tilly. Instead, he’s met with another round of laughter, and a soft “Am I getting kidnapped twice in one week?”
“Twice? Who the hell—“
“Hmm, the guys who beat me up!”
“Ugh, whatever, I’m not kidnapping you.” Fellow says, and tries to ignore the way Tilly has started playing with his hair. Dropping the guy would probably give him double the concussion at this point, and it’s not like Fellow really wants to be an outright murderer.
“What are you doing?” Tilly asks, and he’s really asking himself that question right now, too. What is he doing?
Maybe it’s the fact that at the end of the day, Tilly is like him, struggling to live while having nothing. Even throughout all the harassment, and the annoyance, and just whatever it is the guy thinks is funny that week, he still remembers that they’re technically in the same situation.
…or maybe not the same, considering Fellow doesn’t look beat black and blue at the moment and isn’t currently planning on sleeping in an alleyway in the middle of winter.
“…How have you survived till now?” He asks, thinking through the things Tilly had revealed to him in the past few minutes.
“Hmm, maybe I’m actually a ghost? That would make more sense… I have almost bled out a lot, y’know? I could definitely be dead.” Tilly says, the words considering.
Fellow just feels his glare sharpen, a grimace forming on his face. Okay, so this guy is actually just a walking catastrophe, huh?
“Ugh, just… Stop talking. I’m taking you to my place until you’re back to normal and not at the risk of dying.” He needs him to stop talking before he starts feeling bad for the guy. That would suck.
Tilly hums in consideration, and then laughs again. “But I’m always at the risk of dying.” He says. “Does that mean you’ll have to keep me forever?”
“If I had to keep you forever, I’d be the one to kill you.” Fellow immediately responds.
“Oh, that’s a shame.” Tilly mutters, voice getting quieter. “I personally don’t think it would be too bad.”
“Me killing you?”
“Staying with you forever.”
Fellow pauses, not quite sure how to respond to that, so he just… doesn’t. The guy has a concussion, anyways. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.
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wanderlustknightofmagic · 23 hours ago
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Marcelly smirked as she placed her free hand on her hip. 'Hun, I heard Rain. Even if I wanna help ya, ya gonna have to be a lil more subtle than that," She'd snickered as she shook her head. 'Rain-cloud is fronting the bill, trust me, even if we gave you everythin top quality, which we still might if Rain-cloud's insisting on it, it still wouldn't put a dent in his wallet. Do you know what his wedding gift was for us? A dang ol house in the forest! FULLY FURNISHED! That boy has such a love in his heart for his friends. Still haven't firgured how much he spent, even his momma wouldn't spill!' She'd huff before shaking her head. 'Anyway. With that outfit pretty much settled, ya gonna need 'training gear' as he calls it. Silly little Rain-cloud, it's just clothes to sweat in, but he has ta have it sound all important.'
She would hold up the illusion in her hand before grabbing a notebook and pressing the magic to it. Instantly the design was on the paper with notes too. She then brought up Noelle as an illusion once more, kept the tape near her and did some more measurements. 'Now, there is a lil somethin to Rain's training outfits. He requested that they be able to avoid certain problems when the sweatin gets to be a bit too much. Lil bit o fire magic packed in to turn the sweat into steam and help clear off some of the moisture. Still gonna have to bathe an such, but at least your clothes ain't soppin wet. The design," She would pause and show Noelle an outfit similar to what Rain had on now. 'It's gonna be tight, but I can loosen the top a bit. If things are sensitive around there I can have it so a coating of mana prevents too much rubbing of skin and fabric. We have long sleeve.' The model's top had long sleeves that seemed just as tight. 'And sleeveless.' The sleeves were gone, but there was still a thin-line of fabric with something to put her hands through to keep it steady. 'As for the pants... Well, it's up to you. Baggy like Rain-Cloud's helps a lot for folk, but can cause problems if ya do a lotta fancy movin when casting. However, skin-tight has it's own problems... namely the adjustment period. I can fashion a skirt or something, if skin-tight does embarrass ya, which would be part of the pants, but ultimately the choice is yours.' With that, she let Noelle decide, though for a demonstration, she would hold up her other hand to show off both designs. The sleeveless one was with the skintight pants, and the long-sleeve had the baggy pants.
"Rain? I caught some fish and wanted to know if you wanted to cook with me. I know our last little bout was fun, but I think I can best you this time."
"Oooooh fish? Is it native from here or is it from another world? It's fine either way, but I would like to know if this is something you have a little more... familiarity with. After all, I encourage you trying to get an edge up on out-cooking me if you think it'll help," He'd smirk while he'd pull out his hairband to help push his hair back.
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glendover · 8 months ago
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I might have made the coolest pin for my backpack 🫡
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curiosityschild · 2 years ago
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Amphibiuary Days 11 + 15: Painted and 3D
A holdable friend
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crossbackpoke-check · 21 days ago
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Sat politely ankles crossed hands folded please say you have more thoughts about the DC deweys. Lazarus pit cold-eyed stare pristine and bloodthirsty anyway I would love to hear any further thoughts if you have the time + energy + motivation
how i imagine you waiting for me to re-read the resurrection of ra’s al-ghul and hush vol. 1+2:
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ALRIGHT. in no particular order, thoughts about the dc deweys
connor fits very well into the mold of a talia al-ghul for me; chip on his shoulder, femme fatale, deadly and precise. he’s not the loudest but he’s got a dry wit that’ll cut you!
“why is connor an al-ghul at all and not batman” well first of all he’s already got the water connection, i’m gonna go dip him into the lake a couple hours north of the pas to make him incredibly long-lived, rejuvenated and beautiful
second of all i want him to be a questionable villain/antihero because he looks evil in those pictures but like beautiful evil. you see him at a multi-million dollar soirée and he’s bored of being there wearing his “heritage” beads and jewels he originally had from a thousand years ago. he and his assassins are only here to murder the head of state who’s planning to lay a pipeline through ancestral grounds
rip brandon duhaime i simply cannot imagine you as any kind of batman. lacks the gravitas, too much of a yapper, loves his wife too much. i curse thee to be green arrow if you’re in this narrative at all
assuming connor stays with toronto, would LOVE to think about toronto as one of the sites of the lazarus pit for many reasons
(a brief aside here to say that for me personally this is interesting if connor goes to winnipeg because i think they suit him better, he’s a manitoba boy, but re: the chip on his shoulder, he’s NOT a manitoba boy. he’s from the pas and very proud of it)
a) the amount of ‘toronto is the center of the universe’ hockey creation myths i can play with & birth/rebirth/reincarnation. if you WANT to feel unhinged trying to blend hockey and comics is an ice rink not just a pool of water?
b) mr. cathal kelly i love your works!!! toronto eats its young!!! thinking about this very literally in the sense of the resurrection arc where players come to toronto and are sacrificed, give up their body, their skill, in service of the demon’s head, and lose themselves.
c) we see echos of the same narratives and styles over and over again—if i can hop over to the flyers for a second, there is of course the curse of the *8s (18 richards, 28 claude, 48 danny b, 68 nolan, 88 lindros) but ALSO the danny brière -> tk -> morgan frost celly chain. every generation a resurrection, emerging clean and new from the pit
can you just briefly hold my hand and imagine wayne gretzky as an evil ra’s al-ghul wanting to possess a new body. gretzky i’m sorry to malign you and i know you never played in toronto but you are the best player in my head to fit the idea, i’m open to other suggestions
coming BACK to green arrow dewey (i did not re-watch arrow or re-read those comics sorry) connor could also be black canary, who takes a brief dip into the lazarus pit (toronto) before getting married to oliver. i do like that narrative but because we were talking about pristine and cold-blooded i figured connor dewar head of the league of assassins was more what you were after
now that i’ve gotten through world building… choose your own adventure narratives?
hockey-ish au: connor chosen as a host for the Next One. i think the lineage of the great one -> next one -> next next one -> next one up of gretzky -> crosby -> mcdavid -> bedard is taken, BUT i can imagine that the league of old boys all have the same intentions. connor gets sent to toronto unknowingly being prepped to get body-snatched by ???? and brandon duhaime of course accidentally stumbles on the plot and they have to fight to stop it
connor assassinating people :) snapshot of the head of the league of assassins delegating which major world events they’re going to change today. would love his shark face from the gifset to have blood spattered across it, ideally.
version 1 as head of the league of assassins: brandon is one of his assassins, big strong bodyguard type. devoted to him, would lay down his life, perfectly designed for connor (lady shiva/cassandra cain-ish). connor orders for something to be done and brandon does it there for him then gently wipes the blood off his face and apologizes for being careless and getting him messy.
version 2 as head of the league of assassins: an actual plot where connor aims to assassinate SOMEONE but brandon gets in the way. they meet at odds as their respective roles (hero, leader of a crime syndicate) but are magnetically drawn together as their alter egos. eventually brandon puts together the pieces of the Big Evil and manages to (legally!-ish as much as vigilante-ism can be legal) take it down and the ending panels show a tentative friendship and recognition of potential shared goals
also, jaromir jágr is immortal. don’t know if this is relevant OR related but he is. personal hot spring lazarus pit?
um. thanks for coming to my 1.5k ted talk (including tags). what a way to moritz seider lore drop that i DID grow up a comic book nerd, lmao. thank you so much for enabling me <3 i'll be here all week thinking about which teams would get what rings in a blackest night au
#contrary to popular belief (guy whose brain is like ‘but we already wrote the fic!’ any time they try to write with an actual outline)#[also i know what i said but i CAN write with an outline it just tends to be for y'know. not fic. (research and thesis papers lol)]#i DO actually know how to write up storyboards for comics & could in theory do a story if someone wanted to draw. or do a ‘zine dewey first#meeting comic because i’ve become enamored with the soirée scene i made up. also i want connor emerging dripping wet out of the slime#like it’s a nice wet bath the way they draw comic book girls framed ever-so-carefully to not show anything too provocative#both of those things can exist simultaneously if you want it bad enough. simultaneous mirrored panels of dewey1 fighting crime hours before#the soiree and getting consistent updates that he's going to be late so and so is arriving so and so will be there (OH I HAVE JUST DECIDED#THAT IT WILL BE HOSTED AT HIS ESTATE/CORPORATION DUH) and he's in the process of breaking up a drug deal chasing guys down & then sprinting#back brief shower with the pool of dirt and blood under his feet &slipping into his cufflinks his loosely buttoned shirt tucking his chains#under the collar gel on his hands cologne on his neck & swanning in late but he's precisely on time because he gets there RIGHT when connor#does too because this whole time we see the parallel panels of brandon stepping out of the darkness to reveal the green arrow mask & connor#stepping down iNTO darkness already done covered in blood & scratches the not-sexy but sexy drop of all his clothes where you see the#silhouette of his back (can't tell if i want this to be a direct parallel of brandon getting into the shower OR because what i haven't said#yet is that this is both of them in opposite -> they are simultaneously stripping & re-making themselves somewhat literally for connor but#it's taking OFF the green arrow for brandon to be his “true” self / connor stripping off his title as the demon's head (his “true” self) to#be connor dewar the act of polite high society &the implications in both that we see them taking off one skin and putting another on. which#one is real. brandon thinking duhaime the billionaire playboy is real vs connor thinking the dewar heir is the act&do they switch/challenge#each other throughout the course of their interactions of course) &then lmao the fighting parallel with fighting demons not going insane in#the lazarus pit to the puddle of blood at brandon's feet mirrored in a puddle of soaps/beautiful scented oils in connor's post-pit bath#& flower petals. have i this entire time been imagining connor in a slinky selena kyle-esque backless dress yes BUT we can for the sake of#being normal put him in a crisp beautiful expensive black suit with beaded accents. both of them spritzing cologne brandon & his bracelets#connor and his league of assassins ring ohhhh it would be so good to parallel brandon putting his cufflinks and accessories on with connor#getting dressed & fitted with spy gear. brandon stripping his weapons in the beginning -> connor thigh sheath knifes in garters in the end#&they both meet in one big panel/the title page cover at the top of the stairs & there's some kind of dialogue about being fashionably late#& at all times yes i am inspired by that one photo of brandon in his ridiculous coat with no shirt staring at connor who doesn't know he's#looking. that with this. and in the next set of panels connor wipes off a bit of dirt or blood brandon missed in his quick shower & brandon#in his playboy billionaire persona flirts incessantly with connor but truly is obsessed & wants to know more about what he's the heir to.#WHEN THE ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT HAPPENS BRANDON GOES TO PROTECT CONNOR BUT CONNOR'S ALREADY GONE/ALREADY SECURED HIM SOMEWHERE SO HE DIDN'T#GET HURT both of them simultaneously trying to protect the other in their “civilian” act. &brandon as green arrow thwarts the assassination#liv in the replies
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swagging-back-to · 8 months ago
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sooo i just had the thought of putting mochi and sushi in with the main colony instead of getting any more mice and adding them to the future 30 gallon colony....
#they actually hate eachother and i feel so bad for them bc they're all alone in there together and they have no one else but themselves#and then i look at the main colony and they all love each other and choose to ignore the adequately sized hides in order to all pile into#a single coconut on top of eachother#and then sushi and mochi choose to sleep on opposite ends of the tank.#idk#im gonna go to the breeder at the end of he month and see if there's any coat colorings i like and if not then I'll add those two to the#40 gallon tank#i also need to figure out where I'm gonna put jasmine when/if she finally recovers.#i was wanting to put her with the main colony bc that's her original group but i was also thinking of putting her with sushi nd mochi#but im afraid it would only further divide those two girls/they might target jasmine bc shes a stinky girl#either way jasmine will be going to one of the two groups eventually.#whether it be the main colony WITHOUT sushi and mochi or the main colony WITH sushi and mochi#im leaning more towards just getting a few more mice and putting them in the 30 gallon bc i don't want to have to try and sell the 30gal#nor do i want to have an extra wheel#the whole reason i got only two mice for a separate tank was bc i wanted to be more cuddly and lovey with them but so far neither of them#care about me even half as much as the main colony#which is weird bc most people say the bigger the colony is the less interested in you the mice will be. but IME it's been the exact opposit
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lupismaris · 2 years ago
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I'm just gonna complain in the tags tw medical stuff tbd etc
#its the final stretch and i refuse to will anything into this universe other than this is the final stretch im having treatment and it ends#this is the end of this here and now i will not continue to live like this i cannot continue to live like this i cannot carry this fatigue#any further genuinely i cannot its not a matter of will not anymore i just... i cannot. im legitimately still hiding at the office#despite everyone else having gone home because it takes too much effort to gather my things and walk to my car and im afraid of falling#i forgot my cane at home and its cold and my body struggles with temperature regulating and seizes up so badly#but the fatigue has finally reached a point where its hard to lift my bag or put my coat on or my jewelry without help#or walk across the parking lot just to get to my car and its not like the usual hey we have to adjust to new level of disabled#it's fatigue kneecapping you put of nowhere with a tireiron until you can barely loft your bag or fix tea or prepare dinner#and the fact the all the joy of food has been robbed from me because everything takes so much goddamn effort now#everything takes ten more steps and an hour more planning and special ingredients and yes i know lots of people live like this always#but i haven't and its been a forced short term adjustment period with absolutely no support from medical professionals#and im the only cook in my household/family/immediate social circle so all the labor inevitably falls on me not out of malice#but by default even if they try to help they can only do so much because they dont know what to do#i am literally on the verge of a meltdown just thinking about how much effort dinner is going to take because i cant just#eat a fuckin box of easy mac or ramen with an egg and go to bed no I've got to make a special soup with special ingredients#or a proper balanced meal with protein and veg and whole grain and certain seasoning#and im just so fuckin tired im so goddamn tired if this radiologist doesn't come back and say i can eat freely come Friday#i genuinely dont know what im going to do#food is one of my greatest joys and to be limited even in such bizarrely simple ways requiring so much excess labor#is too much. its too much on top of all this hypothyroidic fatigue. i cant do it.#i dont want to go home and make a fuckin soup. i want pizza. i want take away. i want lamb curry and rice. i want food i dont have to cook.#god im so fuckin tired my body feels so ancient like something wrecked in the seabed being involuntary hoisted to the shallows again#and im not sure its going to survive the process. i mean it has to. we dont have a choice. but fuck.
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waloeders · 3 months ago
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update on sao au!tomu
the minute i can find the proper ref pic of that knight!tomura they released recently for one of the games, this can be completed. he will have his full kit setup n everythin
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WAIT I JUST REALISED HIS HEAD LOOKS MASSIVE 😭😭 WHAT HAPPENED. whatever. whatever.
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gor3sigil · 5 months ago
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Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.
I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.
Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.
I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.
5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.
I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.
I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.
I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.
I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.
I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.
But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.
I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.
It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.
If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.
Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.
It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.
You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.
Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.
Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.
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