#you ever see anyone tell a man he has to suppress his testosterone because it's unfair to his competitors

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

If Imane Khelif is so powerful that no woman could stand against her, why did she finish at 17th in 2018? Why'd she get eliminated in the first round in 2019? Why'd she only make it to the quarterfinals back in 2020?

Seriously, look into any "gender controversy" athlete and you will find multiple examples of cis, perisex women beating them. "Competitive advantage" my ass, you just don't want to admit that cis men aren't so innately superior to cis women that the slightest hint of testosterone is an automatic win condition.

[valehirvas]

Hi! I need help understanding what Is gender dysphoria from a transsexual perspective because I'm confuse at my own experiences and the doctors I've seen viewerd dysphoria as only wanting to/believing you are the opposite sex and nothing more

I’m not an expert on this obviously, all I’ve got is just my own experience.

For me, it’s primarily a strong desire and a feeling of “should be” about male sex characteristics. As a child, I would often cry in my bed looking forwards in my life thinking it was already over because I wasn’t a boy, not because being a girl to me was bad in itself - I didn’t view it as limitating or see myself as lesser in any shape or form, I just didn’t feel like my body was as it should have been and the thought of never physically becoming a boy was crushing to me. This came along with various stupid childish misadventures like trying to learn to pee like a boy to feel more comfortable: let’s just say that one ended up in a disaster. I also quite classically tried to explain to my mother how I felt - that I wasn’t like a “girl girl”, I was more a boy girl. Something like that.

I didn’t have social dysphoria at this stage, because I’m very privileged in the sense that my parents and most adults around me allowed me to be exactly who I was, and those who found me disagreeable and too boyish never explicitly made it a gender issue, so I was blissfully unaware of the idea that girls weren’t supposed to act the way I was acting. I was very much a tomboy, but I was never made to feel like this was a bad thing, it was just who I was. I was in a lot of minor trouble often because of how active and curious I was as a kid, but nothing worse than doing what other adventurous kids were getting up to. For example, we liked breaking into the sewer system to chase frogs. Our parents HATED it, for obvious reasons. Things like that. But these were hardly things that only boys got into, and my friend group was rather equally split between the sexes at the time, so yeah, no, my social dysphoria did not exist at this time.

With puberty, things got a lot rougher. It’s tough to tell how much of it was because of dysphoria and how much of it was because of abuse in my life; I was targeted by a school teacher who made my life hell and triggered my depression at the ripe old age of 11, and ever since things were just really difficult for me.

I was still struggling with wanting to be a boy; I only had male role models, only male ideals of what I wanted to grow up to be, in terms of media and idols. I desperately wanted facial hair. Meanwhile, I was being raised by a single mother, and my experience with men was dreadful, and puberty chased off my male friends so I was left living in an all-female bubble, pretty much. I didn’t feel separate from it, but I was certainly different. My friends went down a more traditionally feminine path while I was a clusterfuck of alternative fashion and obscure interests.

My biggest “oh” moment was when I was about 12 years old and for the first time approached my mom to buy my own set of clothes - I’d secretly wanted to dress up as one of the boys for a long time, but this was the first time I really got to try it out. Being a skater was in because this was the early 2000s, so I bought a large t-shirt and a pair of skate shoes, and yes, a skateboard, and when I looked into the mirror like that, I felt like I was in heaven. I felt like things were finally going right and that this was who I wanted to be, that this was who I was supposed to be.

When I was 14, I met my first trans person. I had a terrible crush on him, he was a couple years older than me and identified as an FtM. The year was, what, 2005? I knew instantly that I was the same as him, but it scared me so badly I swore off ever thinking about it again, and that I’d just live as a woman like I was meant to be, because he was extremely suicidal and abused alcohol and drugs, and I didn’t want to die like that. It just seemed like the worst outcome - I knew I was like that, too, but I didn’t want that future. I was afraid if I’d accept how I felt, I’d end up killing myself like he’d tried to do so many times already. So I went DEEP into the closet.

I struggled a lot with relationships, being viewed as a girlfriend and treated as such, like my partners telling me they loved how I looked, touching my body, appreciating it as a female body. I told my first love that I wanted to go by the name of Gabriel, and that I felt like a boy inside, but that was as far as I went. I was 15 at the time. Around the same age I got sent to a group home because the social services were struggling with me (I wasn’t attending school due to my depression and various other mental disorders, and they needed to get me off their books asap). There, I was assigned men’s deodorant because they were out of women’s, and I never went back from there. Little things like that just made me feel so much better in my own skin. Now I at least smelled like a guy. It felt heavenly. In this same place, my supervisor was a nice young woman who borrowed me movies to watch. One of them was Boys Don’t Cry. Let’s just say I was pretty badly traumatized by that, and went ever deeper in the closet, because once more I knew that I was exactly what was portrayed on the screen but the reality of it was... well, I’d either kill myself or be murdered. Nobody wants that. So yeah, there.

Afterwards I went hyperfeminine but also became incredibly toxic because of how bad I felt in my own skin - I was extremely unstable, but at least I was playing my role right, right? I was suppressing how I really felt and trying to force myself into some weird caricature of a woman to spare myself from a painful death.

I used to do a lot of larping as an older teen and a young adult. When I was 18, one of my girlfriend’s characters was transsexual, and I went looking for information about the condition, you know, having the excuse of just “doing research”. That was the turning point. It was so comforting to know that I wasn’t alone, that this was something other people had gone through, too. That I didn’t have to live like this forever.

The things that bothered me most were the fact that I couldn’t grow facial hair, and my chest, which has always been very large. I’ve never had particularly bad dysphoria about the shape and size of my body, and I coped with genital dysphoria by packing, but the fact that I couldn’t grow a beard was the worst thing in the world to me. I went through a year of self-searching and research, during which my girlfriend left me because, duh, she’s a lesbian and I’d just come out as a trans man and it just wasn’t working out anymore, but she stuck by my side to help me become who I wanted to be, and fuck if it wasn’t working. Embracing the way I’d felt and doing the things that helped me feel better - like wearing the kinds of clothes that gave me that sense of comfort and rightness, and binding my chest - helped me to such a big degree that I stopped being completely fucking awful as a person. I stopped flipping out at the smallest of triggers and slamming doors and shouting and being an absolutely unbearable piece of shit, and my ex has repeatedly told me how good it felt seeing me become so much happier before her eyes. I practically changed as a person when I started my transition, first socially and then eventually medically, I became a very calm and difficult to irritate kind of an individual instead of the mess I’d been the years before. And I don’t mean “changed as a person” like I adopted a different personality, just that I stopped being blinded with anger and self-hatred at all hours of the day and lashing out at anyone who dared to love me as I was because I couldn’t.

Starting medical transition scared the shit out of me, because I’ve always been afraid of permanent changes. I nearly ran out of my tattoo appointment last minute because the idea of being marked forever killed me, and I only have one piercing that I can take out without leaving a visible scar for that reason. So obviously, taking that step was horrifying to me, but after doing my time looking into my soul and reflecting on my needs and desires for a year, attending some councelling and in general looking into what I really wanted from my life, I finally entered the diagnostic process, which here took at the time six months at the very least and included a lot of more thorough examinations like a psychological evaluation, chromosomal check and even an IQ test to make sure I was capable of consenting to the treatments.

Testosterone was a gift from gods in how much it eased my dysphoria. I ended up quitting it eventually because of how much it messed with my mental disorders like anxiety, and worsened my psychosis, but in terms of how much more at ease I became with my body, I can’t thank it enough. Seeing my body grow more hair on it, even some of that facial hair I’d always wanted, was blissful. Having my voice drop was comforting and comfortable, and I was excited to practice it and get back my range for singing and speaking, and that whole period of changes was just so good to me. I can’t describe it any other way. My dysphoria’s never come back since I stopped, because the changes that happened were those that I’d so desperately needed the whole time. I never got top surgery because of weight limitations placed on it, and this was an enormous source of pain for me for a long time, but I’ve learned to cope with it now. I’m getting along with my boobs because they’re just a part of my body, that is, unless they start growing cancer which does run in the family, and I’m never not suspicious of them for that reason.

It’s just, it’s hard to describe the story of my dysphoria without telling you all of this. It’s not just one or two things, it’s a history of a lifetime, little things that are good and this grand shadow that follows you around and makes everything more painful and difficult to endure because it’s already weighting you down. The terror of realisations and going back in the closet, but also the unmatched comfort and feeling of finally being how you were meant to be when you see yourself more akin to the picture in your head.

There’s a lot that I’ve left out, and not much of this is probably very helpful, but it is what it is.

[backtothestart02]

25 Days of Westallen Fanfiction: Day 16 - Better Than Christmas

A/N: Can you say...pre-series (the year before PAE in my personal headcanon of this fic) love confession on Christmas that reminds me an awful lot of @wintertruffles‘ fic that she wrote for me last year for the WA Secret Santa exchange, but I swear only has a couple similarities and the rest is very different? I never get enough of this premise. I hope you enjoy my take! Almost 4k words b/c this thing took on a life of its own, and I LOVE IT.

Enjoy!

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Iris’ warmth beside him was ecstasy. Her wool sweater with the penguins playing in the snow with winter hats combined with her red sweatpants and fuzzy socks made him think of home and happiness. Sitting with her on the couch, looking up at the Christmas tree with its blinking lights and dozens of ornaments, a few professionally wrapped presents under the tree, and the smell of eggnog in the air as the fire blazed, effectively shutting out the cold. Joe wore a scarf anyway and two layers. Barry wore his typical big red sweater that Iris loved to snuggle into. And God, if Barry didn’t just love Christmas time because of all of those things.

But he wasn’t next to Iris on the couch admiring the beautifully decorated Christmas tree right now. He was in the kitchen baking Christmas cookie with Joe because Iris’ specialty was decorating the tree – and also, her talent in the kitchen was lacking unless it came down to slicing and dicing, which to her credit, she was great at.

Every so often Barry would peak out into the living room and watch her decorate the tree. He’d taken care of the lights and the garland. She would always beg him to help her put up the ornaments with her, but she also wanted him to bake cookies for her and so he was doing the latter as fast as he possibly could. Still, he yearned to see her. He always liked seeing her. She was beautiful, and he was in love with her.

“Hey. Bear.” Joe walked over to him, though he didn’t notice until the man was waving his hand in front of his face. “Earth to Barry?”

Barry blinked, blushed a bright pink and cleared his throat, ducking back into the kitchen just as Iris was turning to quizzically look at them.

“I, uh, I thought we were done, Joe.”

Joe eyed him suspiciously, and Barry wondered if he knew. He’d been careful not to show his feelings for Iris too openly. She’d never guessed, so he assumed no one else had either.

“With one tray, Bear. We have four more to go.”

Barry looked over to the counter and the bare cookie trays spread across it.

“Oh. Right. Sorry, I must’ve just-”

“Son, are you ever going to tell her how you feel?”

Barry’s face went white as a sheet.

“I…um…what?” his voice rasped.

Joe barely suppressed rolling his eyes. He did lower his voice though.

“I know you’re in love with my daughter.”

“What?” Barry’s voice squeaked.

“I’ve known it for a long time, and I approve.”

“Y-you do?”

“Are you kidding me? Who else better to take care of her than the boy I raised, the only man I know who comes close to loving her as much as I do and treating her like the goddess she is?”

Well, she is one, Barry thought to himself.

“There’s no one else I will ever trust her with as much as I trust you.”

“Joe, this is a lot…to take in.”

So much so that he was feeling the need to sit down, and quickly.

Not only had he failed hiding his feelings from Joe, but Joe was eager to get him and Iris together. It was reassuring to know he wouldn’t have to win him over and that at least one person thought he was worthy of Iris as a romantic partner, but it still was happening faster and more suddenly than he’d ever expected it to. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected it to happen at all. Actually obtaining Iris’ affection seemed like a far off dream that would never come true. He certainly never expected anyone to encourage that goal, let alone Joe, Iris’ father and the man who had raised him since he was eleven.

“Look, I’m not trying to overwhelm you, Barry,” Joe said, coming to stand next to where he was leaning against the counter. “I just…I’ve seen how you felt about her since you came to live with us, since before you knew what the word ‘love’ meant.”

Reluctantly, Barry looked up into his eyes.

“And I’m telling you, she has no idea how you feel.”

Barry wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and rubbed the skin there – a nervous habit.

“I…I know,” he said, nearly a muttered breath.

“You have to tell her.”

His eyes flashed back to Joe’s.

“W-What? Joe, no. She won’t- She doesn’t feel-”

“She does.”

A scoff spilled past his lips.

“You can’t know that, Joe. I mean, has she said that she does?”

“No. But-” Barry shook his head indignantly, but Joe continued, determined. “She might not know her own feelings, but she will if you tell her yours.”

“Joe, no. That doesn’t make any-”

“Just tell her how you feel.”

“No!” His voice escalated unknowingly. “I’m not going to risk our friendship over feelings she might or might not have.”

“Is everything all right in there?” Iris called out, and Barry reigned in his temper.

He knew Joe had good intentions, but what he was asking of him was absolutely ridiculous. It just wasn’t that simple. If Iris hadn’t shown interest in him all the years they’d lived together, him telling her how he felt now wasn’t going to change that.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Are you suuu-” She came to a stop in the doorway and instantly felt the testosterone coming off both men in waves.

“Yep,” Barry said, forcing a smile onto his face. “I just wanted to come help you decorate the tree and your dad insisted I stay in here to bake cookies.”

Iris looked relieved. Barry didn’t know if she believed his excuse, but it didn’t matter. She was going to let it slide, and she was going to get him out of the kitchen. He knew even before she reached for his hand and pulled him toward her that was what was going to happen.

“Give Barry a break, Dad.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you can handle the rest of the cookies by yourself.”

Taking the lead from his pseudo-son, Joe’s face had smoothed over and his frustrated eagerness cooled to more manageable degrees.

“You’re right. Of course. You two have fun.”

Barry didn’t dare look behind him as he and Iris left the kitchen. He could feel Joe glaring a hole into the back of his head.

…

Half an hour later, the tree was fully decorated – well, except for the star. But Joe would put that on later just before dinner. It was their tradition every year, and there was something very comfortable about tradition. It felt safe. It was nice.

Iris plopped down beside Barry on the couch, snuggling close. He tried to relax into her, but his conversation with Joe in the kitchen kept going on repeat in his mind. He hated that it had happened because it was ruining a moment he would’ve otherwise indulged in. If this was the only way he could have Iris, he would take it. It was great. It felt almost perfect.

Is almost enough for you? After what Joe told you?

But Joe was only guessing. He wanted them to be together, so he made himself believe they had mutual feelings for each other. That wasn’t the same thing as actually having mutual feelings.

He guessed you had feelings, though.

Barry ignored that line of thought.

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?” Iris said, starry-eyed as she stared up at their masterpiece.

Barry wrapped his arm around her, forcing Joe’s words out of his mind. He was going to enjoy this moment. It only came once a year.

“You did a great job, Iris.”

She snorted and poked his chest with his finger.

“We did a great job.” She continued before he could insist otherwise. “Only half the tree would be decorated if you hadn’t helped me, and you know it.”

He smiled slowly. “I guess my height does come in handy.”

She sat up enough to turn and face him.

“You come in handy, Bear. I won’t have you saying otherwise.”

Oh my God, she’s so close.

Maybe she wasn’t really. Maybe it just felt that way. But everything inside him was aching to kiss her.

Don’t do it. It will change everything. And not for the better.

That voice was annoying, but it was also probably true. He knew he needed to listen to it or he might very well ruin Christmas for both of them. The awkward tension next Christmas if he caused that now just might kill him.

“You have really pretty eyes, Bear. Did I ever tell you that?” she asked, sifting her fingers through his hair.

God, she was going to kill him. She was so touchy-feely with him, so handsy, and so innocent about it. It nearly drove him crazy. If she only knew.

Well, she won’t know unless you tell her. He heard the words in Joe’s voice in his head and knew they were true too.

And therein lie his dilemma.

“Not recently,” he teased, needing to lighten the moment before he went insane, before he got a hard-on with their knees touching, her thighs pressed against his, and her cinnamon fragrance absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, they are,” she continued, unthwarted and completely unaware. “Sometimes I wish I had them.”

He gawked at that.

“W-why? Your eyes are so pretty, Iris. They’re beautiful. I’ve never seen such beautiful eyes.”

He was babbling now, but he didn’t care. How Iris could ever think she was anything but the most beautiful was a mystery to him.

Her eyes twinkled in amusement though, and he knew he’d gone a bit overboard.

“All right, if you insist,” she said, and fixed his hair so it was as it had been before she’d started playing with it. Then she repositioned herself so she was snuggled up against him again, this time with her arm looped through his.

He didn’t know how he suppressed a sigh honestly, but when Joe came in a while later, Barry saw the look on his face and felt the pressure. Joe wanted him to tell her so bad. He didn’t know why the urgency had come on so suddenly, but he knew he was going to be feeling it until he told her. Maybe Joe thought Christmas would be the perfect time to tell? Regardless, he did feel guilty about snapping at the man. So later when Iris was asleep against him and most of the cookies had been eaten, and it was just Joe and Barry watching the Christmas tree and listening to the fire crackle, Barry spoke up.

“I’m sorry, Joe,” he said quietly. “About before. I didn’t mean to-”

“I know,” Joe said, and Barry had a feeling he did. “I was wrong to push. I just want you – both of you – to be happy.”

“We are happy, Joe.”

“Not as happy as you could be.”

Barry opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“Look, if you’re not ready to tell her, I won’t push anymore. But please think about it. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, but I really think that it would. I think you owe it to yourself to give it a shot.”

Barry didn’t say anything, but he nodded. Then he looked down at his sleeping Iris and wondered hard. He still felt very strongly about everything he had said before, but in this gentler setting, a flicker of hope came to life inside him, and he wondered if it was possible that Joe could be right.

“I’m going to bed,” Joe said a while later, and came to press a kiss to his drowsy daughter’s face.

“Mm, what? No…Dad-” Iris protested, reaching for him.

“I’ll see you in the morning, baby girl.”

Her arms fell short and she murmured an ‘I love you’ and an ‘okay’, snuggling back into Barry and drifting back to sleep, her hand clutching his warm, red sweater.

Barry and Joe’s eyes met once more before Joe left. A nod, an understanding, and a ‘Merry Christmas’ passing their lips, even if it wasn’t quite midnight.

Barry fell asleep once for about forty-five minutes before coming to again. Iris was still sleeping against him, and he decided that maybe she might regret the arrangement if her back was out-of-sorts in the morning.

“Hey, Iris.” He gently shook her when she didn’t so much as budge. “Iris.”

She moaned a little. “Mmm, no, let me sleeeeeep,” she whined, then sighed contently against him and snuggled closer, the side of face fully pressed into his chest.

Of their own accord, Barry’s fingers tangled in her hair.

“It’s late, Iris.”

“It’s Christmas, Barry.”

“You’ll thank me in the morning after you’ve slept in your own bed,” he said, more firmly this time.

Reluctantly Iris roused herself and lifted her body off his.

“Why are you so eager to get rid of me, huh?”

His eyes widened. “Iris, I’m not. I’m just-”

“I know, I know. Doing what’s best for me like you always do.” She sighed, getting to her feet, running a hand through her hair and straightening out her clothing so she wouldn’t be walking with her seams sideways or her socks slipping off.

“Iris-” he tried, but she waved him off.

“It’s okay, Barry, you’re right.” She yawned. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He wanted to go after her. He should have gone after her. It was the perfect mood, the perfect lighting. And on Christmas Eve? What better time to risk it all, to risk every Christmas after this one if she really did feel the same?

But she was so tired. It probably wasn’t the ideal time to be making confessions of love.

So, he let her go, and he told himself he should go too. But as luck would have it, he ended up being too tired himself. He pulled a blanket off the top of the couch over him and fell asleep in the light of the Christmas tree.

…

The next morning when Iris came down the stairs, she was struck by the sight of Barry sleeping on the couch. She shook her head at his sleeping form, doing what he’d insisted she shouldn’t do.

Unbelievable.

She knew she should leave him, despite his hypocrisy. But she couldn’t help it. She went and sat on the floor in front of the couch and trailed her fingers up his arm hanging over the side of the couch.

“The itsy bitsy spider…”

“I love you, Iris,” Barry mumbled in his sleep.

Iris chuckled to herself.

“I love you, too, Bear. Even if you are a bit of hypocrite.”

“I love you so much. Kiss me.”

His lips parted, and Iris’ eyes widened. Barry’s eyes were still shut, so he had to still be dreaming. She wondered what he could possibly be dreaming about. The thought suddenly occurred to her that he might be having a wet dream. About her. Her body’s first reaction to that possibility was to get hot all over, and for her a dampness to gather between her legs.

Iris tightly pushed her thighs together, willing the sensation to go away.

That’s weird, Iris. He’s your best friend. You can’t- No. Stop it.

But he really was very handsome – hot, some people might say. Girls in her class, for instance. She remembered feeling some type of way when they would giggle and talk amongst themselves about Barry whenever he would come to meet up with Iris between classes at CCU. At the time she’d decided they were mean girls, unworthy of her best friend, just like Becky Cooper.

But now she wondered… Was it jealousy?

She tried to stomp down the feeling, but she couldn’t ignore what she’d felt last night either. For the longest time she stared into his eyes. It felt like an eternity. And she could’ve sworn he wanted to kiss her. She’d stretched out the moment deliberately just to see if he would. The fact that he hadn’t should’ve proved to her that her suspicions he might like her were wrong, just as they had been her entire life. Surely he would’ve made a move by now if he was actually interested.

And there was nothing wrong with him not being interested. She certainly wouldn’t want to ruin their friendship. The only person she depended on more than Barry was her dad, and even that was pretty much tied.

No, it was probably better to let this slide and ignore whatever Barry might be saying or doing that could be interpreted differently than what was obvious to the naked eye.

Barry’s eyes blinked open. Hazy with sleep, Barry’s voice was husky. It turned Iris on. There was no getting around that.

“I-Iris?”

She smiled slowly, shoving down the feeling.

“It’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“Huh?” His brows furrowed, confused, not registering what she was implying.

He’s so darn cute.

“Telling me to get off my butt and sleep in my own bed and then proceeding to sleep on the couch yourself?”

He was silent for a moment, then, “Oh.”

She rolled her eyes.

“And not only that, but before you woke up just now, you were mumbling in your sleep.”

That seemed to wake him right up.

“What did I say?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, though her cheeks felt hot as coals.

“Oh, you know, just the usual…that you love me sooo much.”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

“And that you want me to kiss you.”

She met his eyes. Her mouth suddenly felt so dry. She couldn’t look away from him if she tried. His stare was so intense she thought she’d die if she looked away.

Was he gonna kiss her? Was he gonna kiss her? She thought she’d die if he didn’t.

She didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to break this crystalline, fragile moment, but his name slipped past her lips anyway. Or, at least it started to.

“Bar-”

He leaned over the edge of the couch, most of his body still level enough that he didn’t fall off. And Iris was close enough that he didn’t have to lean far. He didn’t hesitate once he reached her, not for a single moment, and Iris wondered if he’d wanted to do this for a while. If he’d dreamt about it.

His lips were warm and soft against hers. The pressure was sweet and made her feel all tingly. It was the simplest of kisses, but she let him pull back, so he could say something if he wanted to, even though every part of her wanted to grab his face and devour him.

“I do love you, Iris,” he said softly. “I’ve loved you for…so long. And I haven’t told you because-”

“I know,” she said, nodding. “I understand.”

“What about…” he trailed off, then licked his lips. “What about you?”

Iris thought about it, wondered what she truly felt. She certainly loved him like family, though she’d never really thought of him as family, certainly not in a way that would make her see him as her brother or cousin or any other kind of relative. She’d never thought that. But she felt safe with him and protective of him. She enjoyed spending time with him, and she liked touching him a lot. And right now, there were few other things she wanted than to make out with him right here by the Christmas tree on Christmas morning.

“Iris?”

She smiled tentatively, then draped her arm around his neck.

“I think I love you, too, Bear.”

Her small, pretty smile was nothing compared to the thousand-watt one that spread across his face.

“Yeah?” he asked, his eyes bright with happiness. He was so very awake now.

“Yeah,” she giggled, then scooted closer and kissed him again and again and again.

By the time Joe came downstairs sometime later, Barry was sitting up on the couch and Iris was straddling him, kissing him with a fury that stole his breath. And Joe West groaned, causing them to break away.

“Dad!” Iris shrieked, but Barry said nothing, a lazy grin on his face he couldn’t suppress.

“Well, I guess you told her,” Joe said on a sigh.

Iris’ jaw dropped. “You knew?”

He ignored her. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, Barry Allen-”

“You told me once,” Barry retorted, to which Joe shrugged and headed back towards the stairs.

“Wait, Dad! You don’t have to-” She tried to climb off Barry’s lap, but he sensed the movement and held her in place, making her brace her hands on the top of the couch, startled.

“I really think I do,” Joe said, continuing up the steps. “I’m still tired anyway.”

When they heard his bedroom door shut behind him, Iris turned back to Barry and playfully smacked him.

“I can’t believe you!” she giggled.

He only grinned. “You’re beautiful in the morning, you know that?” He tucked a lock behind her ear, then sunk his fingers into her hair.

Iris shivered beneath his touch. “Only in the morning, Barry Allen?”

“No,” he said and pulled her closer, nuzzling her nose before stealing a kiss. “All the time. Always. You’re always beautiful.”

One kiss after another. Iris sunk into each and every one of them.

“I have a Christmas present for you.” She tried to pull away.

“I like this one,” he said, pulling her in for another kiss.

“I’ll do you one better,” she said, leaning back enough so they’d tumble to the floor if he tried to lean forward.

“What’s that?” he asked, resigned to whatever fate she’d decided to deliver him.

The question sounded simple enough in her mind, and she knew he’d say yes. She was just suddenly very nervous to ask it. Would he tease her? Would she tell her she was being silly?

“Iris?” he asked, concerned, breaking through her self-doubt, and she knew she was being silly. Silly to doubt him ever.

“Will you be my boyfriend, Barry?”

His literal gasp followed by the look of awestruck wonder in his eyes, the unshed tears of a boy in love staring straight at her like she was the reason science made sense.

“You have to ask?” he rasped, and she knew right then she loved him.

She loved him. She loved him. She loved him.

She kissed him hard – but just barely because she was smiling so much.

“I’m so excited, Barry. So happy. This is the best Christmas gift ever.”

Her eyes dazzled when she pulled away, and he was smiling so bright he looked like he might burst.

“Not as happy as I am, Iris,” then stole another kiss. “Not by a long shot.”

And they kissed a while longer as dawn crept into day and sun shone through the front window. And after a while Barry made pancakes and Iris stared dreamily at him as he did.

“My boyfriend, the cook,” she said, not realizing until he turned to look at her that she’d said it out loud. She was too embarrassed to take it back. And the smirk he sent her way melted her insides.

He finished up their breakfast and delivered it to her. Her eyes lit up at the display of deliciously smelling food, but before she could dive in, he tipped her chin up, leaned down and kissed her.

“Better than pancakes,” she murmured against his lips.

“Better than Christmas,” he countered.

She didn’t disagree.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[pandabearlikes]

Priceless

Characters: You x Baekhyun Genre: Romance, Slice of Life, Fluff Music: `*•.♩ ♪ ♫ ♬♥ .¸.•*

My friend spends her fortunes collecting limited edition items, shelving her precious children into containers and containers that span the breadth of her entire room. I sit there, mesmerized by each and every object, her dedication…counting in my head how long it must have taken, counting with my fingers how much money she must have spent...to realize I don’t quite have that many fingers.

Money. Every one loves money, those who say they don’t probably never realized that in this society, everything costs something. A homeless woman shakes a plastic cup in my direction as I race to get onto the morning bus for work.

-Deet- The machine beeps, invisibly withdrawing little bits of my blood and sweat. But I refuse to slave away like this for a manmade system...slave away for materials that will only dust over time. My friend says I’m not adapting, with the implication that one day even the slightest naivety in me will be tainted by the hunger for money, just as it has done with her.

A race. My friends tell me life is a race, a competition, a battle of who can pocket as much in the shortest amount of time with the shortest amount of effort.

“I want to train for a marathon,” I announce to a room of chuckles as they stare me from head to toe.

“Well, you still need money, lots of it even to sign up for the marathon,” they jeer.

I guess, that’s true. Everything costs something. Rolling my sore shoulders, I squeeze through the crowded bus to the exit located at the center of the bus. The little claustrophobic child in me thinks this way, I can escape reality when need be. With all my might, I cling onto the metal pole - an action of contradiction in itself. Escape reality, you say? Then why are you grabbing for dear life?

“Here, sit here,” a silvery voice offers as its owner stands up and invites me to sit down on the seat he once occupied.

I shake my head and turn away, closing myself off from the world that seemed so daunting and merciless. According to the philosophy, everything cost something so his kindness must cost something. And as a broke post college grad, emptied of anything remarkable enough to pay the riches, I settle to declining without a word.

The young man glances up at me, his lower lip protruding a bit, wondering why this strange girl seemed as though he had asked for her bank account number. But he shrugs, guides an elderly woman into the seat, and to my dismay takes the spot next to me. Unlike me, he nonchalantly crosses his arms over his chest and leans his back against the door. Out of reflex, I latch onto his collar and tug. The miscalculated force causes him to crash right into me. Wincing, I blink and peer up, right into his gorgeous puppy eyes. They’re soft but alluring. I’m not sure if I’m breathing anymore.

“It’s...It’s dan-dangerous to lean against the door,” I stutter in between allotted breathes.

Passengers push and pull, locking the two of us into an unfortunate cul-de-sac. The young man lifts an arm up, what he thinks is offering me a protective barrier at a comfortable distance. Instead, I misinterpret it as a flirtatious reenactment of the infamous kabedon move. He throws me a handsome smile and I immediately turn my back to face him. My heart fumbles between thundering out of fear and celebrating in joy to be in the presence of God’s most handsome child. Due to my lost trance, my grip on the metal bar had unknowingly loosened. I heave and fumble to latch on when the bus takes a sharp turn. Instantaneously, the nimble young man catches me by the waist.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he reassures, taking my hand and maneuvering it back onto the metal pole. His touch is gentle but firm. I get lost in admiration at the smoothness of his beautiful hands that seem to mock my heavily battered and chapped ones. Sensing my discomfort, he eases his hold and moves his hand to the space directly above mine. Without my knowledge, a frown graces my lips.

“What stop are you getting off on?” the gentleman asks.

To my better judgement, I answer with honesty. Immediately, I internally reprimand my carelessness. So all it took was a handsome testosterone-filled human to make me drop my guard.

“Oh, same,” he replies.

“Re-really?” I stutter.

“I’ll protect you until then,” he half-jokes.

“Wh-what?”

“I won’t let you fall,” he slates.

No. Of course, I will not fall. I haven’t fallen ever. And I will not let myself fall…because the price of falling is far too much.

Yet, my heart responds with a gracious smile.

“My name is Baekhyun,” he stops me in my tracks when I dash as soon as we reach my bus stop. Rummaging through his coat pockets, he takes out a business card, blows off invisible dust, and hands it to me.

“How much does it cost?” is the first thing that sips from my lips.

Chuckling, he replies, “Free.”

“Free?” I respond, a bit shock, though my brain has already signaled for my hands to accept it.

“Except…” Baekhyun rubs the back of his neck and nervously jokes, “Maybe your name and number.”

My body jerks and eyes widen; I’m seconds from shoving the business card back into his precious beautiful hands.

“Name,” he corrects, “Just a name will do,” he backtracks after sensing my discomfort.

Nodding, I pay him with my name for his hospitality on the bus…a trade that made me feel guilty because it seemed like a lacking payment. But the gentleman accepts, complimenting on how beautiful and unique my name is…and that he’d remember it the next time we meet. As we separate, from the corner of my eyes, I catch him racing to get onto the adjacent bus…

“Byun Baekhyun. Financial Advisor,” the business card read. I cackle a bit at my own naivety. Financial advisor, just the person I needed but didn’t want. Just the wit I needed to get pass this roadblock in my life, but just the reason I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be calculated and sly and cunning, like a fox.

Perhaps, I’m not adapting well.

I catch my fingers bending and unbending, counting away.

Or perhaps, I’m already becoming more calculated than I think I am…

``

“Hey!” Baekhyun greets, cheerfully gracing my name with much more worth than I thought I’d ever mean to anyone, much less a kind stranger.

“Hi, Baekhyun-ssi,” I shyly bow. Already, my cheeks flush, betraying my interest, which growing up, my mother taught, would surely cost me.

Grinning at my reply, the young man automatically positions himself as my personal bodyguard. Today, I hesitate before spinning around. It’s a quiet but calm bus ride, just as I’ve always wished. I could sense a few times that Baekhyun wanted to initiate conversation but feared scaring me. Internally, I cursed my anti-social personality.

“Thank you,” I bow in gratitude and voluntarily hand him a folded up piece of paper for his kind services.

Slightly amused and incredibly curious, he accepts my payment. I flee away before I could see his reaction. But the buzzing of my phone right after answers my curiosity. A silly emoticon greets me as soon as I open the device.

``

“Mornin’ :)” Baekhyun texts me the next day.

“Good morning,” I reply with professionalism.

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” he alerts.

“Okay,” I type back, rocking back and forth on my feet at the bus stop. Three minutes later, the bus arrives and to my dismay, my male companion hasn’t shown up yet. “The bus is here,” I message.

“Wait for me :(,” he replies.

“What do I get for waiting?” I automatically type. Instantly, I regret it, shoving my phone back into my pocket, because I realize I’ve really become more calculated than I had hoped. Slouching, I drag myself onto the bus. I’m midway through pushing through the crowd when I feel my phone vibrate against my thigh.

I fail to suppress a giggle when I open the message to a selfie of Byun Baekhyun’s handsome face. I spend too many moments longer admiring the photo that I forgot this is supposed to be the payment for my waiting. With a gasp, I dash to exit the bus but the floor beneath me had began to move. From the window, I catch a sprinting Baekhyun growing smaller and smaller until he is forced to give up in a fit of pants, huffing and puffing for air.

“:(,” he texts.

“Sorry,” I type back.

“Send me a picture of you,” he surprises me by requesting. Though hesitant, I figure it is to make things even. Since I failed to wait for him, despite his payment, I had to pay him back. Fixing my hair out of my face as best as possible, I snap a quick selfie and send it to him.

``

The next day, I arrive to a suave and yawning Byun Baekhyun at the bus station. At the sight of my arrival, he immediately straightens up, his entire stature beaming at my presence. Automatically, I bashfully turn away and out of habit, loop a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Mornin',” he chirps, rocking back and forth on his heels as if he’s just been gifted boxes of chocolate.

“Hey,” I reply back and make note, “You’re early today…”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to miss you— or I mean the bus again,” Baekhyun nervously chuckles, stuffing his hands into his pockets. A tinge of pink dusts his cheeks.

“I see,” I throw him a soft smile, oblivious to his stutter because I’m lost in a world of nerves, myself.

Naturally, we make our way to the doors near the center of the bus. He positions himself to stand guard over my smaller physique. Today, I surprise both of us by not turning away, though, I can’t seem to be brave enough for direct eye contact so I settle on fidgeting with the tassels of my coat and staring at his briefcase. Must be full of money or documents that easily exchanges for cash six times its thickness… I shake my head and frown.

“Hm?” Baekhyun dips his head to observe my expression. Instantly, my body jolts, my cheeks burn up at the close proximity. “Ah, the roads are a bit bumpier today, right?” he straightens himself and interprets. “The government needs to stop wasting money and drilling dayum holes everywhere,” he mumbles under his breath, which causes a giggle to escape from my lips. In turn, a grin spreads across Baekhyun’s face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” the gentleman requests at the point of separation.

“Mhmm,” I gift him a grin and nod. “What…what do I owe you today?”

“Hm?” he raises his brow, a little amused by the oddity of my calculations. Flattening his lips, he rolls his wrist and glances at his watch. “We both got here ten minutes earlier than normal. Care for some morning coffee to wake our brains up?” he suggests.

“Okay,” I nod in agreement. I tag along with him to the nearby coffee shop.

As soon as he made his order, I prance forth and almost shove the money in the cashier’s face. She blinks while Baekhyun attempts to push my hand away to pay with his credit card.

“I still owe you for today,” I remark.

Both his brows lifts and it takes him a few seconds to make sense of the situation. “You don’t owe me anything,” he answers, swiping his card through the machine. With his other hand, he personally retracts my outstretch palms and stuffs them and the contents back into my pocket. I blink and he throws me one of his cute puppy smiles.

“How much do I owe you for the coffee?” I question when he hands me one of the steaming espressos.

“Be careful, it’s hot,” he, instead, warns.

``

“Hi,” I beam. My little legs giddily kick back and forth at the sight of Byun Baekhyun.

“Morning,” he greets with a wink that causes my feet to almost lose balance.

“You’re such a good boyfriend,” an elderly lady compliments after observing Baekhyun holding his arm out to block a drunk man from collapsing over me.

The corner of his lip twitches. He turns away but from the bus door’s reflection, I catch his timid grin. I don’t know why I also don’t deny the misinformation.

~~

A season passes by just like that. Then another. With students out from school, morning hours on the bus become less crowded. Taking my hand, Baekhyun guides me through the aisle and we settle down on a pair of seats near the center.

“You’re extra cute today,” he teases.

I stifle back a giggle and turn away.

It doesn’t occur to me that our hands remained interlocked through the bus ride, until it was time to leave and he easily guided me to the exit.

``

“Mornin’, Beautiful,” Baekhyun grins, toothily.

“Good Morning…um, Hand…” I rub my neck, “…Some…”

The self-proclaimed body guard almost chokes on his coffee. I try to make a run for it because that must have been the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever….but the bus arrives. Baekhyun grabs hold of my wrist, slips his fingers through mine, and tugs me onto the bus.

``

“What’s wrong?” Baekhyun questions, figuring out that I was troubled as soon as I showed up at the bus station with inadvertent sigh.

“Hm…nothing…” I try to dismiss as we get onto our ride.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” he casually counters.

Today, the bus is abnormally crowded due to there being a fair at the downtown area. Baekhyun and I automatically head to our spot near the doors. Holding onto my backpack straps, I continue to sulk. Only the scent of Baekhyun’s cologne instills hope back into me.

“Hm, what’s up?” my male companion questions, tapping me lightly on the tip of my nose.

“It’s not a big deal,” I ponder, chewing on my inner cheeks.

“Well, it’s bothering my Little Sunshine so it’s a big deal,” he concludes. My chest bubbles and tummy flip flops to the nickname.

“Just…just student loans…I’ve been paying for a year and the numbers seem to never move,” I admit.

“Ahh, I see,” my crush nods in acknowledgement. Unknown to either of us, his hand had naturally found mine with a squeeze. “I’m the same,” he informs.

“What?” my eyes widen, baffled by his statement. “How? You’re a financial advisor. Aren’t you really good with these things?”

Baekhyun lets out a chuckle. “Well, not really. I just try my best to come up with plausible financial agendas for clients in different situations. I don’t see myself in any tight situation to need to worry about my student loans just yet.”

I blink.

“Do you have a plan?” he squeezes my hand again and questions.

I nod, “Yeah, I’ve been paying for it monthly.”

“Then what are you stressing about?”

“Just that, it seems most of my friends aren’t in debt anymore and I’m just —”

“Don’t think about it that way though. Some people have parents that pay for them. Some had scholarships, some were lucky enough to nail high paying jobs off the bat. As long as you have a plan that’s yours, you are fine,” he reassures, “Go at your own pace.”

The frown on my lips flip. “I guess, you’re right.”

“Honestly,” he chuckles, “I’m not even sure how much I still owe. I’m on auto payment.”

My eyes bulge, “For real? I thought people in your field would calculate their money down to the last penny.”

The remark causes the finance grad to fall to another fit of chuckles. “Money isn’t that important to me,” he notes. I stare at him like he grew a horn at the center of his forehead.

That day, I watched as he rushed to catch the adjacent bus after he had thought I entered my work building.

``

“Mornin’, Babe,” he sneaks in the label that causes both of us to flatten our lips in attempts at suppressing our foolish grins. Instead, I playfully smack him on his abdomen. “aHH, my nutella abs,” he jokes, rubbing his belly.

Covering my smile, I skip ahead and head onto the bus. With a chuckle, my handsome beau tags along, slipping into the seat next to mine…also, slyly slipping his hand through mine. I surprise both of us by turning around with my eyes narrowed into slits. Baekhyun blinks.

“What? We’ve been holding hands everyda—”

“Why do you always chase after the adjacent bus right after dropping me off?” I interrogate.

“Oh,” he nervously rubs his neck and laughs.

“I Google Mapped your work place and you’re supposed to get off one stop before mine,” I continue with raised brow.

“Oh…hah…about that…” Baekhyun awkwardly shuffles his feet. “…because I just want to accompany you longer…” Cheesepuff. You cheesepuff!!!

I eye him half suspicious and half in awe.

“So you take the bus back, everyday?”

“Yeah, just one stop. I could totally walk but I’m lazy,” he shrugs. More like it’s take-the-bus-and-make-it-on-the-dot or walk-and-be-late-to-work…but he’d never admit it.

“That’s wasting money,” I lecture.

“Well, it’s worth it for me,” Baekhyun responds, bringing our intertwined hands up to his lips. He plants a sweet kiss on the back of my hand, sending butterflies fluttering in frenzy within my heart. Out of shyness, I turn away to hide my cherry red cheeks.

Though I’d rather deny, all my life I had been calculating. Calculating how many days I had left to live from the day the doctor held me in his arms and shook his head, calculating how much I owed my mother because she kept a journal of every penny she spent on me, calculating what percent tile I must achieve on the next exam to receive an A on my report card, calculating how much I owed a friend for their kindness, because it always had to be more from my side or else it’s not fair...or else I’d drown in heedful guilt...calculating, calculating…forever calculating.

...when there’s nothing to count. Life didn’t work in numerals.

“Sometimes, the best things in life are priceless,” Baekhyun explains.

I spin my head around to respond. Our lips meet. A half gasps rid from my throat but I hold my breath and stay still as a statue. Grinning, Baekhyun closes his eyes and eases us into a deeper and more affectionate kiss. Like a broken record, the brain races to calculate, but my heart wins the marathon. Slowly, I begin to kiss him back.

“Like you,” he finishes, pressing his forehead against mine, “One of a kind and priceless.”

A/N: Dropping another one-shot ^-^ If you guys haven’t, go read Busy Nights ft. Sehun, the scenario I posted yesterday.  

Hope you guys liked this scenario!  Do you guys want more?  Be sure to follow, like, comment, spam my inbox :)

Story Master Archive

[vivicnism-blog]

did i just see (EMILY RATAJKOWSKI) walking down sixth street ?! oh, wait, it’s just (VIVIAN KILINSKI), the (24) year old (CIS FEMALE) (STRIPPER) who has a reputation for being (EMPOWERING & HONEST) but (COLD & STUBBORN). let’s hope (SHE) prepared to take on the wild ride that is austin, texas. / (chloe, 18,she/her, cst)

*guess whos back by eminen plays* guess who’s back, back again, shady’s back, tell a friend.

alright i’ll stop. Anyways, it’s chloe, (i play my other bby elliot) with another gut-wrenching character. vivian is a revolution and gonna take austin by storm. jk she just wants to be left alone, but plot twist she’s problematic as heck !! we’ll get into that in a bit...

(( WARNING THIS GOT SO FUCKING LONG I’M SORRY ))

no one really calls her vivian unless ur sharon (and no one is sharon but sharon, so back tf up m8) everyone just calls her vi or viv or if ur her brothers, v-dizzle. 

born in pheonix, aizona, vi was born to stanley and amanda kilinski. mandy was a nice jewish girl from the bronx who had moved to arizona for college. stan was a straight up army man, discipline to the core. they were married and popped out four kids, then when vivian was 2, her mother filed for divorce and went back to new york. the kids stayed with dad tho! whether that was best or not, you can decide.

(( FAMILY BIO BEGINNING. YOU DON’T GOTTA READ IF U DON’T WANT TO, BUT IT’S IMPORTANT ))

mom came around for like, holidays, and called on birthdays. they were so dramatically apart, though, it was difficult. their father was a well-payed realtor. mom, though, worked in a bakery as far as she remembers.

now, viv was rlly young when her parents split, so all she’s known is just having her dad around. it was tougher for her brothers though. ernest was the oldest, and he always took it hard. which causes an issue for later. u will see

dad loved the italian culture. since he was straight up polish, his parents having fled after the second war, he didn’t really get it until he was in his own house. The family took vacations every other year to florence, dad cooked weekly dinners of different italian cuisine. and always drank italian wine. so what did good old stan do ??

married an italian woman of course !

and in short, god bless sharon banchi.

vivian was about 7 when they were properly married. they’d met on one of their family vacations and did that whole long distance thing for a while. Sharon came from a vineyard and a family of money, so she’d visit yearly. Eventually she just moved in. she was beautiful, and younger than their father (not by much, but she had youthful skin and he was a single father of four, so he always looked older)

ernest and norman, the two oldest, hated her. always playing pranks and shunning her son marco (who just about the same age as vi-- they quickly became friends)

but fun fact daddy was in the army for years and took non of their shit !! discipline and respect was vvv important in the kilinski house !! 

(( BACK TO THAT GOOD SHIT ))

anyways, boring fam shit over. sharon’s cool, marco’s a bro, vivian has a family finally. and it’s a high fucking testosterone house okay !!

she was !!! raised !!! to !! suppress !! feelings !!! bc crying’s not manly. real men don’t cry. vivian was raised to be a real man ok !!

*sidenote: the only time you’ll see our girl follow rules is in that house it’s all straight poster and ‘yes sir’s there. but fuck the rest of yall.

this is already getting so long i do apologize

but high school was kinda rough. u know, she was a babe, she was loud and rlly stood her ground. boys followed her and she was like ??? never ?? really ?? into it ??

but she kissed one in a movie theater sophomore year so people would stop talking

didn’t date anyone until people started whispering midway through junior year. She let joey truman fuck her at jessica abernathy’s winter party. it sucked. but at least they stopped calling her a d*ke

PLOT TWIST SHE IS THO EEEWHOAOAOAOAA

this is never something vivian really thought about. she never gave herself the option to explore the possibility of liking girls because it was so OUTRAGEOUS that she’d simply stop at the rapid heartbeats she got from kelly welch, the flyer on her cheer team. 

BUT LMAO DON’T WORK LIKE THAT HUH B ??

after high school, she was going to college at university of pheonix. just to mostly get her generals. she had no idea what she wanted to do, or what she liked. 

but her creepy brother’s friend could hook her up with a /real/ nice job. which, sounded terrible, but her dad was hounding her ass about getting a job and making money and had to move out by the end of the month so to stripping she went.

it’s real awful she hated it. but hey, it made really good money and her student loans went down. 

so she graduated with a bachelors in business and marketing. had no idea what to do with it. she was still stripping. and honestly, she didn’t want to have to start over, you know ? she had a nice fucking place and could afford real nice clothes and jewlery. when u make bank, it’s hard to give it up

the actual job sucked tho. with all the control and harassment and vi hatd her body most of the time and worked until her core felt like it was going to burn but her lady friens said her abs were sick so bonus, right ??

but oh no, then SHE came along

oh ya it’s one of /those/ plots

she was tall and beautiful and talked to vivian like a real human being and then also put her in her fucking place. she was an angel. a true grace of god. vivian was absolutely in love with her and this girl knew it. this girl took vivian by the strand of her hair and dragged her along for the best, gayest ride ever. sexually liberating, emotionally freeing, viv finally saw that she wasn’t a sexual and emotional void. like she could feel something for someone. 

BUT HAH THAT GIRL WANTED TO MAKE IT OFFICIAL AND AFTER LIKE A YEAR OF RUNNING AROUND U KNO IT MAKES SENSE TO HOLD HANDS IN PUBLIC BUT UH NO VIVIAN ISN’T GAY 

so they had a huge fight, people were starting to find out. before it could get back to her dad or her brothers, vivian stomped on her heart and ran away

TO AUSTIN. WHERE SHE STILL STRIPS. bc she likes diamonds. and also kind of hates herself so getting that self loathing validation help her thrive. so she thinks.

and she’s still deep deep in the closet

THIS GOT SO LONG I’M SO SORRY I’M REALLY SORRY. BUT PLS I CAN PROBABLY RECAP THIS IN IMS IF U WANNA PLOT JUST LIKE THIS I LOVE MY BBY SO MUCH. I HAVE CONNECTIONS IN MIND BUT THIS GOT WAY TOO LONG SO I’LL JUST BE ADDING THEM HERE SHORTLY.