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sunderwight · 3 months

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AU where there's no system (or a decidedly less restrictive one) and Shen Yuan transmigrates into an OC rogue cultivator before the start of the novel, and decides he's gonna steal the protagonist before Luo Binghe even gets to Cang Qiong.

The logic is sound -- he'll keep Luo Binghe from experiencing neglect and abuse at Shen Qingqiu's hands, raise him away from the pressure of the sects and the likelihood that anyone else might find out about his heritage and try to harm him over it, keep him fully away from the Immortal Alliance Conference, and then Luo Binghe's course will change trajectory because he'll have no reason to want revenge against the world and no access to Xin Mo. Shen Yuan will be able to spare Luo Binghe some suffering and possibly survive in a world less subject to the harrowing whims of a half-mad tyrannical overlord. Win-win!

However, the tricky bit is that he's not sure exactly how far ahead of the novel he is, and also Airplane didn't specify where Luo Binghe grew up. This means that Luo Binghe could be any age younger than twelve and in any number of places along or near to the Luo river.

Shen Yuan decides he's going to approach this by pretending he is looking for the long-lost son of his sister, traveling through the likeliest areas, asking after abandoned children who might fit the protagonist's description. It's a long shot, he knows, and he's mostly relying on the existence of Narrative Destiny. But eventually he is directed by several people towards a particular city, which is not as close to the river as he'd have expected Luo Binghe to grow up, but then again he only knows that was where baby Binghe was found, not where the washerwoman who took him in ultimately lived.

It becomes clear to him, though, that he's been sent to the wrong target. But also why he's been sent astray is apparent in nearly the same breath, because among the slave children living in this area is a little boy who could be his much younger clone.

Seriously, this kid looks just like him! Or, well, close enough. He looks a lot like Shen Yuan's actual nieces and nephews from his past life. It's uncanny.

Also, because of his search, the slave kids get wind of what he's looking for (his long-lost nephew) pretty quick. The boy with the obvious resemblance to him greets Shen Yuan's own assessment with wary cynicism, but he's just a little boy. So it's not difficult to notice the way he's also practically vibrating with hopefulness, half-hiding behind a protective older kid and looking at Shen Yuan with big dark eyes like he expects to be rescued or destroyed with whatever he has to say next.

Shen Yuan has a big problem now. He just knows that if he says something like "actually no this boy is too old to be my nephew" or whatever other excuse, no one will believe him, and also this poor kid is going to be permanently scarred by it. He's going to think Shen Yuan is lying just so that he can reject him. On top of that, he's not in a good situation here. None of these children are even remotely well cared-for.

Shen Yuan's rogue cultivator self isn't rich on the level of being like a wealthy sect leader or anything, but he's made some money since transmigrating by doing random cultivator jobs and quests along the way here. He uses it all to purchase two little slave boys (Do Not Separate), then takes another job and uses that coin to acquire a somewhat rundown manor which used to belong to the local gentry. The Qiu family (rings some bells but that's not exactly an uncommon name) kept it up for a while in case a branch family sprung up in need of a residence, but they've been in decline and the place is downright decrepit, so they had been looking to sell it instead. It's too big for a wandering bachelor like SY to ever need on his own account, but that's sort of the idea. He makes more money taking on cultivator work, at first taking his boys along with him for lack of any alternative. Nerve-wrackingly dangerous! Eventually he hires workers to start restoring the manor, particularly setting up a yard to be a school area, and then starts taking on any freelance jobs he can get in order to steadily buy out the contracts on all the other kids. He gets it nice enough to house and care for as many orphans as he can acquire.

Not because he's a big old softie though!

His story of looking for his nephew is a bust now, since he's apparently "found" the kid. So he's got to change tactics! If he can't find baby Binghe and the washerwoman, the next best approach is to create an opportunity for them to come to him. So once he's got his new household established, he starts offering free lessons to all the local kids. Not just the ones he's taken in, but also any who come by and want to learn some things. It's a tempting setup for anyone who wants their child to get education but can't afford a tutor, and Luo Binghe's mother had been entirely the sort of person who would have packed up and left her situation if there had been an opportunity for it.

On that note, SY also starts hiring single mothers to help look after his new gaggle of children and do the work he doesn't know how to do in these times, like keeping house, laundry, cooking, actually raising kids, etc.

His "little school" is not universally popular. A few groups try and ruin him, because the poverty in the region provides a basis of business for them. The ringleaders of the human traffickers in the area don't want their trade to dry up, even if it means selling all of their merchandise for this round, so when they find out that their underlings let Shen Yuan buy off all the kids they try and intimidate him into returning them (it doesn't go well for them). The Qiu family also isn't thrilled after it becomes clear what he's doing, and get him investigated by the local authorities (read: use their bribed officials and local goons to try and interfere.)

When that doesn't work either the sects get involved, because the Qiu go crying to Huan Hua Palace that Shen Yuan is sketchy and is trying to establish his own sect. So Shen Yuan talks his way around the matter, and frankly the Qiu are small fish even if they're the biggest ones in the local pond, so HHP doesn't care to pursue things much further. (Read: SY could mop the floor with the disciples they sent to investigate him, and it's not worth it to piss off someone this mysterious and powerful just to bully some impoverished children.)

Shen Yuan is appalled by all this bullshit though. Trust the world of PIDW to make it so hard just for a guy to teach some poor kids how to read and do math!

It makes him dig in his heels about it, because he is at heart a stubborn bastard. The fires that once fueled a thousand angry screeds on zhongdian literature site is now aimed at the local magistrate. One of the women he's hired on has some dirt on the Qiu family, which leads SY to dig up some more until he eventually has enough to turn the tables on them. Local officials won't investigate because they've all been bought, but that in and of itself is of some interest to their superiors closer to the palace, and so SY arranges an investigation of his own that goes way further than he thought? Turns out there are some ugly skeletons in the Qiu closets, and the imperial investigator comes down on them hard.

Well, he can't say they didn't have it coming? Though he does feel bad for the children in the family, especially the oldest son, who gets hauled off to jail along with his father. At least the girl is sent to live with relatives. Maybe he should have done more to shield the minors in the situation...?

His kids tell him not to worry about it, though, that apparently young master Qiu was known to run people down in the streets and beat his servants and do other cartoonishly awful things. SY's not sure how much of it is true and how much of it is his little flock of fluffy sheep trying to ease his conscience, though they do all seem to take a lot of vindictive delight in the whole affair. Especially Nephew, who clings to his sleeves and loudly declares that the investigator should have publicly flogged the discredited nobles so that everyone could go watch, and then begs him for sweets as if that wasn't a creepy thing to hear come out of an eight-year-old's mouth. SY just sighs and tells him he can have something good when he finishes his calligraphy practice.

Of course, it's not exactly easy running what is basically an orphanage-slash-school (and maybe a budding sect...?), especially when pretty much all of the kids have been traumatized and faced stuff like rampant dehumanization, food insecurity, abuse, and neglect. Hiring single mothers soon becomes not only a plan to try and lure in Luo Binghe's mom, but an absolute godsend of an idea because SY has no clue WHAT he would do on his own about the discipline issues or emotional breakdowns or acting out that some of the kids get up to once it registers that they're in a safe enough place to unpack their baggage.

Apart from Nephew, SY's favorite kid is the one who came with him, the oldest of the flock of former slave children. He's the big brother of the group, the one who tries his best to look after the others and to not make any trouble himself. But even poor Little Yue is still just a kid who has been through too much, and he also eventually starts having some meltdowns and struggles with processing everything that has happened to him as a vulnerable child in an unkind world.

SY really didn't mean to start a trauma center for mistreated children!

Though, that's still not necessarily a bad thing for Luo Binghe to one day come across, provided he ever actually shows up...

Eventually, Shen Yuan does figure out that he must be ahead even of Luo Binghe's birth, though he still doesn't put together that he's interfered in the scum villain's backstory. Probably something even more amusingly obscure, like the creation year of some random artifact Luo Binghe used in some wife plot or other, tips him off and he mentally throws his hands up in the air. He's got to wait DECADES? Maybe he ought to try and find Luo Binghe's biological parents and just follow them around at this point!

Not that he can, now, though, because he has to make sure no negative IQ villains (who will probably just be cannon fodder for a subplot one day) decide to send goons to literally burn down his orphanage. Also if he's gone for too long his kids get upset. Probably because no one else is as weak to their puppy dog eyes and pleas for treats and toys as he is.

At least it gives him time to shore up his position, and train Nephew and Little Yue more extensively in cultivation. Despite his initial assurances to HHP that he was but a humble orphan wrangler who was only incidentally a cultivator, Shen Yuan does also teach the other kids some basic cultivation exercises. There are a few reasons for that.

One is just the principle of the thing. No, these kids don't all have the potential to become great immortals or anything, but they can still learn some of it and it's good for their health if they do. The only trouble is if they try and push too hard or attempt things beyond their range, and that's a risk with everyone who cultivates. Or even just exercises!

Another reason is that it helps stave off the jealousy that some of the kids have towards those with more cultivation potential. Teaching a lot of the basics all around makes it into just another topic at school. Some kids might not be as good at it as others, but those kids might also be better at math, or memorization, or board games, and while cultivation can open more doors to people as adults, for the children this is generally enough to satisfy their sense of fairness. Or at least reduce outbursts and fights.

Finally, the impression that any of SY's kids might be a cultivator also makes wicked people more reluctant to try and abduct or interfere with them. Cultivators are revered and nearly mythological figures in the public consciousness. It isn't difficult to see why, if even a rogue cultivator NPC like SY* can mop the floor with most random muggers (*Shen Yuan is not a normal rogue cultivator). Not many people want to risk bringing SY's ire down on them, but of those who might chance it if he wasn't around to immediately react, even fewer want to risk that the kids themselves could kick their asses.

Not knowing that only two of the orphans probably could in fact mop the floor with them helps keep all the rest safer, and is more believable when all of them can conduct themselves enough like disciples to fool anyone who doesn't know what to really look for.

Developments that surprise Shen Yuan but wouldn't surprise anyone else who is paying attention:

People start leaving unwanted babies and younger children on his doorstep. Not all the time, but more than once has he had to frantically find wet nurses and worry that he's changed things enough that some fishermen might just randomly drop the protagonist outside his gate, and he wouldn't even know because Binghe would be a literal infant??

Nephew (SJ) and Little Yue (Yue Qi -- only Shen Yuan calls him "Little", especially when he gets taller than SY by the time he's sixteen) are prodigies who get really good at cultivation, really fast, and between that and Shen Yuan's OP skills they completely warp Shen Yuan's ideas for what normal cultivation potential looks like. This would probably cause more problems if he wasn't teaching all the kids how to cultivate anyway, but means his students actually do kinda run the usual range of skills for a small sect.

SJ and YQ swiftly reach the point where they need more advanced equipment than just SY's teaching can provide, if they're going to keep building their skills. Gaining access to certain tools, aids, and materials (like spiritual swords) is a real hurdle though, and usually is for rogue cultivators (one of the major disadvantages of no sect affiliation.) Shen Yuan is hesitant to use stuff from the plot, since it's For Binghe, but he eventually caves and starts going after some things that he doesn't think the future protagonist will miss much. He also ends up buying stuff from HHP, since they're willing to sell things like spiritual tools and weapons if the price is right, whereas most other sects like Cang Qiong reserve them for members only.

They get an invitation to the Immortal Alliance Conference. Not the one where the Abyss opens up, obviously, the one where (originally) Shen Jiu reunited with Yue Qi and killed Wu Yanzi. Shen Yuan debates on going but the boys really want to, and things have calmed down enough that no one's trying to burn down the school whenever he leaves these days, so eventually he figures it'll be interesting to see some of the Cang Qiong characters and should be safe enough if he keeps his disciples close.

They don't run into young Yue Qingyuan or Shen Qingqiu on the trip, but Wu Yanzi does show up and get killed, and SY only hears about it and assumes they just missed all that action. (WYZ just got caught by some senior cultivators who recognized him and killed him to avenge some disciples he murdered.) Nephew and Little Yue do meet young Liu Qingge, Shang Qinghua, Mu Qingfang, and Su Xiyan though! Which gives Shen Yuan the opportunity to tell them all (mostly Su Xiyan) that if they're ever in trouble near his school, they can come to him for help. Hint hint.

This open invitation ends up being accepted broadly by a lot of traveling cultivators after the conference, who from then on treat Shen Yuan's school like a free motel whenever they're passing through. Plenty aren't even people SY met, but it seems his statement was taken as a general one to fellow righteous cultivators all around! Luckily, this has some advantages. Shen Yuan has no qualms running off anyone who tries to take unfair advantage of him or especially his kids or staff, and no shame in conscripting anyone who is decent enough to help teach his students, even if it's nothing to do with cultivating, and somehow word gets around and people start bringing school supplies, medicine, food, or other useful things along with them as gifts to help repay the hospitality. Young Liu Qingge comes by a lot on his way to and from various quests, or even seems to just turn up randomly sometimes (he comes to challenge YQ and SJ to fights), and SY's just like "I guess this is happening now" and teaches him to recognize the early signs of qi deviation and advises strongly against meditating in caves.

At one point a young Shang Qinghua turns up in one of the spare rooms, very obviously hiding an ice demon. Shen Yuan again is just like "I guess this is happening now" and shelters them until Mobei Jun has recovered, and sends a message to Cang Qiong that one of their An Ding caravans was attacked and their disciple is recovering under his roof but isn't well enough to travel yet. Much less stressful situation for Airplane (who is desperately trying to figure out what he did to manifest SJ's benevolent uncle from somewhere???)

Su Xiyan seems like the only person they met at the Immortal Alliance Conference who doesn't turn up at their door in a state of emergency at some point.

A few years later, there is a big scandal involving her and the demon emperor. Su Xiyan disappears, Huan Hua Palace accuses Tianlang Jun of plotting against the righteous sects, and Shen Yuan is even invited to the meeting where they try and rally everyone to go kill Binghe's dad. Naturally, he declines to participate in the witch hunt, but the major sects agree to it. By luck (or narrative fortune) Shen Yuan comes across Zhuzhi Lang on his trip back home, and mentions the ambush and his distaste for it (not knowing who ZZL is). ZZL warns Tianlang Jun and the confrontation goes very differently, especially since there's no Yue Qingyuan wielding Xuan Su.

It doesn't go well for the sects involved. Huan Hua Palace gets decimated. The Old Palace Master gets killed. Shen Yuan is like uhhhh that's... whoops? Didn't Luo Binghe need that in the future?? Fuck.

But the sect isn't wiped out completely, they just take a massive beating. Some of their younger disciples end up leaving and turning up on Shen Yuan's doorstep, for some reason. The manor house is becoming too small to account for all of these foundlings! They have to expand. Though the expansions would be a stretch to term a "palace" they end up occupying a much larger chunk of territory, and even investing in farmland and some storehouses to help support the sect. That's still not really a sect, of course. Even if a lot of the business that would have normally gone to Huan Hua Palace starts coming to them instead. Once HHP is back on its feet the stream will probably dry out. Probably?

Zhuzhi Lang starts hanging around. He's actually looking for Su Xiyan or their baby, dead or alive and per Tianlang Jun's instructions, but he uses Shen Yuan's school as base camp for his kind of hopeless efforts to find any traces of them, while also looking for ways to try and repay Shen Yuan. All the kids are just like "oh great, another weird man has fallen in love with Shizun -- someone go run interference" about it.

Some years later, an older woman and her young son turn up. Shen Yuan's off on a quest at the time, so SJ receives them. As is standard procedure he gives the woman a job and places the boy in classes, after giving him the aptitude tests. The kid is cute and precocious, so SJ uses him to distract YQ while he himself sneaks out to go join LQG on a monster hunt (and claim the valuable parts of the beast's remains for himself), and neither SY nor ZZL notice anything until SY's going over the paperwork for stuff he missed while he was gone. Since he procrastinated, it takes him like a week to find out that Luo Binghe is finally under his roof. He's going over the admission form right when SJ arrives with The New Adorable Child to try and distract SY enough that SY will let him go on a solo hunt -- as far as being distracted goes, it is way more effective than even SJ anticipated.

Then he has to figure out how to let ZZL know, so that ZZL can let Tianlang Jun know, so that Luo Binghe will have more family than just his mom and more resources than just a shabby little not-sect! But even once he figures it out and sets up the dramatic reveal, TLJ is just like "great! so can he just stay with you? he's probably fine there" which... irritates SY.

SJ fully conscripts Luo Binghe as a minion in his many cons. He never lost his street kid conman tactics, although he now uses them less as a ruthless survival tool or weapon and more to just get things to go his own way. LBH has the face and disposition of a little angel, which SJ no longer can pull off as a full grown adult, so he fills a gap. LBH also knows full well what's going, especially since a lot of SJ's tactics involve throwing LBH at SY like a smoke bomb.

Luo Binghe inevitably still develops a big fat crush on SY, so this is fine by him. Especially when he gets older, he starts bringing SY tea and making him breakfast and running his errands until even SJ is like "wait a minute, this little brat's stealing my job!" and by then it's too late. Luo Binghe is SY's personal assistant, the disciple at conman puppydog eyes has surpassed the master! While SJ was busy being like "I'm going to trick this idiot into doing my chores" LBH was going "I'm going to trick this idiot into giving me his job".

SY takes too long to officially name his school so everyone calls it the Shen Sect, much to his embarrassment.

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #scum villain #long post #bingqiu

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vavandeveresfan · 3 months

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Holy shit, the New York Times is FINALLY interviewing and listening to detransistioners.

The tide is turning.

Opinion by Pamela Paul

As Kids, They Thought They Were Trans. They No Longer Do.

Feb. 2, 2024

Grace Powell was 12 or 13 when she discovered she could be a boy.

Growing up in a relatively conservative community in Grand Rapids, Mich., Powell, like many teenagers, didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin. She was unpopular and frequently bullied. Puberty made everything worse. She suffered from depression and was in and out of therapy.

“I felt so detached from my body, and the way it was developing felt hostile to me,” Powell told me. It was classic gender dysphoria, a feeling of discomfort with your sex.

Reading about transgender people online, Powell believed that the reason she didn’t feel comfortable in her body was that she was in the wrong body. Transitioning seemed like the obvious solution. The narrative she had heard and absorbed was that if you don’t transition, you’ll kill yourself.

At 17, desperate to begin hormone therapy, Powell broke the news to her parents. They sent her to a gender specialist to make sure she was serious. In the fall of her senior year of high school, she started cross-sex hormones. She had a double mastectomy the summer before college, then went off as a transgender man named Grayson to Sarah Lawrence College, where she was paired with a male roommate on a men’s floor. At 5-foot-3, she felt she came across as a very effeminate gay man.

At no point during her medical or surgical transition, Powell says, did anyone ask her about the reasons behind her gender dysphoria or her depression. At no point was she asked about her sexual orientation. And at no point was she asked about any previous trauma, and so neither the therapists nor the doctors ever learned that she’d been sexually abused as a child.

“I wish there had been more open conversations,” Powell, now 23 and detransitioned, told me. “But I was told there is one cure and one thing to do if this is your problem, and this will help you.”

Progressives often portray the heated debate over childhood transgender care as a clash between those who are trying to help growing numbers of children express what they believe their genders to be and conservative politicians who won’t let kids be themselves.

But right-wing demagogues are not the only ones who have inflamed this debate. Transgender activists have pushed their own ideological extremism, especially by pressing for a treatment orthodoxy that has faced increased scrutiny in recent years. Under that model of care, clinicians are expected to affirm a young person’s assertion of gender identity and even provide medical treatment before, or even without, exploring other possible sources of distress.

Many who think there needs to be a more cautious approach — including well-meaning liberal parents, doctors and people who have undergone gender transition and subsequently regretted their procedures — have been attacked as anti-trans and intimidated into silencing their concerns.

And while Donald Trump denounces “left-wing gender insanity” and many trans activists describe any opposition as transphobic, parents in America’s vast ideological middle can find little dispassionate discussion of the genuine risks or trade-offs involved in what proponents call gender-affirming care.

Powell’s story shows how easy it is for young people to get caught up by the pull of ideology in this atmosphere.

“What should be a medical and psychological issue has been morphed into a political one,” Powell lamented during our conversation. “It’s a mess.”

A New and Growing Group of Patients

Many transgender adults are happy with their transitions and, whether they began to transition as adults or adolescents, feel it was life changing, even lifesaving. The small but rapidly growing number of children who express gender dysphoria and who transition at an early age, according to clinicians, is a recent and more controversial phenomenon.

Laura Edwards-Leeper, the founding psychologist of the first pediatric gender clinic in the United States, said that when she started her practice in 2007, most of her patients had longstanding and deep-seated gender dysphoria. Transitioning clearly made sense for almost all of them, and any mental health issues they had were generally resolved through gender transition.

“But that is just not the case anymore,” she told me recently. While she doesn’t regret transitioning the earlier cohort of patients and opposes government bans on transgender medical care, she said, “As far as I can tell, there are no professional organizations who are stepping in to regulate what’s going on.”

Most of her patients now, she said, have no history of childhood gender dysphoria. Others refer to this phenomenon, with some controversy, as rapid onset gender dysphoria, in which adolescents, particularly tween and teenage girls, express gender dysphoria despite never having done so when they were younger. Frequently, they have mental health issues unrelated to gender. While professional associations say there is a lack of quality research on rapid onset gender dysphoria, several researchers have documented the phenomenon, and many health care providers have seen evidence of it in their practices.

“The population has changed drastically,” said Edwards-Leeper, a former head of the Child and Adolescent Committee for the World Professional Association for Transgender Health, the organization responsible for setting gender transition guidelines for medical professionals.

For these young people, she told me, “you have to take time to really assess what’s going on and hear the timeline and get the parents’ perspective in order to create an individualized treatment plan. Many providers are completely missing that step.”

Yet those health care professionals and scientists who do not think clinicians should automatically agree to a young person’s self-diagnosis are often afraid to speak out. A report commissioned by the National Health Service about Britain’s Tavistock gender clinic, which, until it was ordered to be shut down, was the country’s only health center dedicated to gender identity, noted that “primary and secondary care staff have told us that they feel under pressure to adopt an unquestioning affirmative approach and that this is at odds with the standard process of clinical assessment and diagnosis that they have been trained to undertake in all other clinical encounters.”

Of the dozens of students she’s trained as psychologists, Edwards-Leeper said, few still seem to be providing gender-related care. While her students have left the field for various reasons, “some have told me that they didn’t feel they could continue because of the pushback, the accusations of being transphobic, from being pro-assessment and wanting a more thorough process,” she said.

They have good reasons to be wary. Stephanie Winn, a licensed marriage and family therapist in Oregon, was trained in gender-affirming care and treated multiple transgender patients. But in 2020, after coming across detransition videos online, she began to doubt the gender-affirming model. In 2021 she spoke out in favor of approaching gender dysphoria in a more considered way, urging others in the field to pay attention to detransitioners, people who no longer consider themselves transgender after undergoing medical or surgical interventions. She has since been attacked by transgender activists. Some threatened to send complaints to her licensing board saying that she was trying to make trans kids change their minds through conversion therapy.

In April 2022, the Oregon Board of Licensed Professional Counselors and Therapists told Winn that she was under investigation. Her case was ultimately dismissed, but Winn no longer treats minors and practices only online, where many of her patients are worried parents of trans-identifying children.

“I don’t feel safe having a location where people can find me,” she said.

Detransitioners say that only conservative media outlets seem interested in telling their stories, which has left them open to attacks as hapless tools of the right, something that frustrated and dismayed every detransitioner I interviewed. These are people who were once the trans-identified kids that so many organizations say they’re trying to protect — but when they change their minds, they say, they feel abandoned.

Most parents and clinicians are simply trying to do what they think is best for the children involved. But parents with qualms about the current model of care are frustrated by what they see as a lack of options.

Parents told me it was a struggle to balance the desire to compassionately support a child with gender dysphoria while seeking the best psychological and medical care. Many believed their kids were gay or dealing with an array of complicated issues. But all said they felt compelled by gender clinicians, doctors, schools and social pressure to accede to their child’s declared gender identity even if they had serious doubts. They feared it would tear apart their family if they didn’t unquestioningly support social transition and medical treatment. All asked to speak anonymously, so desperate were they to maintain or repair any relationship with their children, some of whom were currently estranged.

Several of those who questioned their child’s self-diagnosis told me it had ruined their relationship. A few parents said simply, “I feel like I’ve lost my daughter.”

One mother described a meeting with 12 other parents in a support group for relatives of trans-identified youth where all of the participants described their children as autistic or otherwise neurodivergent. To all questions, the woman running the meeting replied, “Just let them transition.” The mother left in shock. How would hormones help a child with obsessive-compulsive disorder or depression? she wondered.

Some parents have found refuge in anonymous online support groups. There, people share tips on finding caregivers who will explore the causes of their children’s distress or tend to their overall emotional and developmental health and well-being without automatically acceding to their children’s self-diagnosis.

Many parents of kids who consider themselves trans say their children were introduced to transgender influencers on YouTube or TikTok, a phenomenon intensified for some by the isolation and online cocoon of Covid. Others say their kids learned these ideas in the classroom, as early as elementary school, often in child-friendly ways through curriculums supplied by trans rights organizations, with concepts like the gender unicorn or the Genderbread person.

‘Do You Want a Dead Son or a Live Daughter?’

After Kathleen’s 15-year-old son, whom she described as an obsessive child, abruptly told his parents he was trans, the doctor who was going to assess whether he had A.D.H.D. referred him instead to someone who specialized in both A.D.H.D. and gender. Kathleen, who asked to be identified only by her first name to protect her son’s privacy, assumed that the specialist would do some kind of evaluation or assessment. That was not the case.

The meeting was brief and began on a shocking note. “In front of my son, the therapist said, ‘Do you want a dead son or a live daughter?’” Kathleen recounted.

Parents are routinely warned that to pursue any path outside of agreeing with a child’s self-declared gender identity is to put a gender dysphoric youth at risk for suicide, which feels to many people like emotional blackmail. Proponents of the gender-affirming model have cited studies showing an association between that standard of care and a lower risk of suicide. But those studies were found to have methodological flaws or have been deemed not entirely conclusive. A survey of studies on the psychological effects of cross-sex hormones, published three years ago in The Journal of the Endocrine Society, the professional organization for hormone specialists, found it “could not draw any conclusions about death by suicide.” In a letter to The Wall Street Journal last year, 21 experts from nine countries said that survey was one reason they believed there was “no reliable evidence to suggest that hormonal transition is an effective suicide prevention measure.”

Moreover, the incidence of suicidal thoughts and attempts among gender dysphoric youth is complicated by the high incidence of accompanying conditions, such as autism spectrum disorder. As one systematic overview put it, “Children with gender dysphoria often experience a range of psychiatric comorbidities, with a high prevalence of mood and anxiety disorders, trauma, eating disorders and autism spectrum conditions, suicidality and self-harm.”

But rather than being treated as patients who deserve unbiased professional help, children with gender dysphoria often become political pawns.

Conservative lawmakers are working to ban access to gender care for minors and occasionally for adults as well. On the other side, however, many medical and mental health practitioners feel their hands have been tied by activist pressure and organizational capture. They say that it has become difficult to practice responsible mental health care or medicine for these young people.

Pediatricians, psychologists and other clinicians who dissent from this orthodoxy, believing that it is not based on reliable evidence, feel frustrated by their professional organizations. The American Psychological Association, American Psychiatric Association and the American Academy of Pediatrics have wholeheartedly backed the gender-affirming model.

In 2021, Aaron Kimberly, a 50-year-old trans man and registered nurse, left the clinic in British Columbia where his job focused on the intake and assessment of gender-dysphoric youth. Kimberly received a comprehensive screening when he embarked on his own successful transition at age 33, which resolved the gender dysphoria he experienced from an early age.

But when the gender-affirming model was introduced at his clinic, he was instructed to support the initiation of hormone treatment for incoming patients regardless of whether they had complex mental problems, experiences with trauma or were otherwise “severely unwell,” Kimberly said. When he referred patients for further mental health care rather than immediate hormone treatment, he said he was accused of what they called gatekeeping and had to change jobs.

“I realized something had gone totally off the rails,” Kimberly, who subsequently founded the Gender Dysphoria Alliance and the L.G.B.T. Courage Coalition to advocate better gender care, told me.

Gay men and women often told me they fear that same-sex-attracted kids, especially effeminate boys and tomboy girls who are gender nonconforming, will be transitioned during a normal phase of childhood and before sexual maturation — and that gender ideology can mask and even abet homophobia.

As one detransitioned man, now in a gay relationship, put it, “I was a gay man pumped up to look like a woman and dated a lesbian who was pumped up to look like a man. If that’s not conversion therapy, I don’t know what is.”

“I transitioned because I didn’t want to be gay,” Kasey Emerick, a 23-year-old woman and detransitioner from Pennsylvania, told me. Raised in a conservative Christian church, she said, “I believed homosexuality was a sin.”

When she was 15, Emerick confessed her homosexuality to her mother. Her mother attributed her sexual orientation to trauma — Emerick’s father was convicted of raping and assaulting her repeatedly when she was between the ages of 4 and 7 — but after catching Emerick texting with another girl at age 16, she took away her phone. When Emerick melted down, her mother admitted her to a psychiatric hospital. While there, Emerick told herself, “If I was a boy, none of this would have happened.”

In May 2017, Emerick began searching “gender” online and encountered trans advocacy websites. After realizing she could “pick the other side,” she told her mother, “I’m sick of being called a dyke and not a real girl.” If she were a man, she’d be free to pursue relationships with women.

That September, she and her mother met with a licensed professional counselor for the first of two 90-minute consultations. She told the counselor that she had wished to be a Boy Scout rather than a Girl Scout. She said she didn’t like being gay or a butch lesbian. She also told the counselor that she had suffered from anxiety, depression and suicidal ideation. The clinic recommended testosterone, which was prescribed by a nearby L.G.B.T.Q. health clinic. Shortly thereafter, she was also diagnosed with A.D.H.D. She developed panic attacks. At age 17, she was cleared for a double mastectomy.

“I’m thinking, ‘Oh my God, I’m having my breasts removed. I’m 17. I’m too young for this,’” she recalled. But she went ahead with the operation.

“Transition felt like a way to control something when I couldn’t control anything in my life,” Emerick explained. But after living as a trans man for five years, Emerick realized her mental health symptoms were only getting worse. In the fall of 2022, she came out as a detransitioner on Twitter and was immediately attacked. Transgender influencers told her she was bald and ugly. She received multiple threats.

“I thought my life was over,” she said. “I realized that I had lived a lie for over five years.”

Today Emerick’s voice, permanently altered by testosterone, is that of a man. When she tells people she’s a detransitioner, they ask when she plans to stop taking T and live as a woman. “I’ve been off it for a year,” she replies.

Once, after she recounted her story to a therapist, the therapist tried to reassure her. If it’s any consolation, the therapist remarked, “I would never have guessed that you were once a trans woman.” Emerick replied, “Wait, what sex do you think I am?”

To the trans activist dictum that children know their gender best, it is important to add something all parents know from experience: Children change their minds all the time. One mother told me that after her teenage son desisted — pulled back from a trans identity before any irreversible medical procedures — he explained, “I was just rebelling. I look at it like a subculture, like being goth.”

“The job of children and adolescents is to experiment and explore where they fit into the world, and a big part of that exploration, especially during adolescence, is around their sense of identity,” Sasha Ayad, a licensed professional counselor based in Phoenix, told me. “Children at that age often present with a great deal of certainty and urgency about who they believe they are at the time and things they would like to do in order to enact that sense of identity.”

Ayad, a co-author of “When Kids Say They’re Trans: A Guide for Thoughtful Parents,” advises parents to be wary of the gender affirmation model. “We’ve always known that adolescents are particularly malleable in relationship to their peers and their social context and that exploration is often an attempt to navigate difficulties of that stage, such as puberty, coming to terms with the responsibilities and complications of young adulthood, romance and solidifying their sexual orientation,” she told me. For providing this kind of exploratory approach in her own practice with gender dysphoric youth, Ayad has had her license challenged twice, both times by adults who were not her patients. Both times, the charges were dismissed.

Studies show that around eight in 10 cases of childhood gender dysphoria resolve themselves by puberty and 30 percent of people on hormone therapy discontinue its use within four years, though the effects, including infertility, are often irreversible.

Proponents of early social transition and medical interventions for gender dysphoric youth cite a 2022 study showing that 98 percent of children who took both puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones continued treatment for short periods, and another study that tracked 317 children who socially transitioned between the ages of 3 and 12, which found that 94 percent of them still identified as transgender five years later. But such early interventions may cement children’s self-conceptions without giving them time to think or sexually mature.

‘The Process of Transition Didn’t Make Me Feel Better’

At the end of her freshman year of college, Grace Powell, horrifically depressed, began dissociating, feeling detached from her body and from reality, which had never happened to her before. Ultimately, she said, “the process of transition didn’t make me feel better. It magnified what I found was wrong with myself.”

“I expected it to change everything, but I was just me, with a slightly deeper voice,” she added. “It took me two years to start detransitioning and living as Grace again.”

She tried in vain to find a therapist who would treat her underlying issues, but they kept asking her: How do you want to be seen? Do you want to be nonbinary? Powell wanted to talk about her trauma, not her identity or her gender presentation. She ended up getting online therapy from a former employee of the Tavistock clinic in Britain. This therapist, a woman who has broken from the gender-affirming model, talked Grace through what she sees as her failure to launch and her efforts to reset. The therapist asked questions like: Who is Grace? What do you want from your life? For the first time, Powell felt someone was seeing and helping her as a person, not simply looking to slot her into an identity category.

Many detransitioners say they face ostracism and silencing because of the toxic politics around transgender issues.

“It is extraordinarily frustrating to feel that something I am is inherently political,” Powell told me. “I’ve been accused multiple times that I’m some right-winger who’s making a fake narrative to discredit transgender people, which is just crazy.”

While she believes there are people who benefit from transitioning, “I wish more people would understand that there’s not a one-size-fits-all solution,” she said. “I wish we could have that conversation.”

In a recent study in The Archives of Sexual Behavior, about 40 young detransitioners out of 78 surveyed said they had suffered from rapid onset gender dysphoria. Trans activists have fought hard to suppress any discussion of rapid onset gender dysphoria, despite evidence that the condition is real. In its guide for journalists, the activist organization GLAAD warns the media against using the term, as it is not “a formal condition or diagnosis.” Human Rights Campaign, another activist group, calls it “a right-wing theory.” A group of professional organizations put out a statement urging clinicians to eliminate the term from use.

Nobody knows how many young people desist after social, medical or surgical transitions. Trans activists often cite low regret rates for gender transition, along with low figures for detransition. But those studies, which often rely on self-reported cases to gender clinics, likely understate the actual numbers. None of the seven detransitioners I interviewed, for instance, even considered reporting back to the gender clinics that prescribed them medication they now consider to have been a mistake. Nor did they know any other detransitioners who had done so.

As Americans furiously debate the basis of transgender care, a number of advances in understanding have taken place in Europe, where the early Dutch studies that became the underpinning of gender-affirming care have been broadly questioned and criticized. Unlike some of the current population of gender dysphoric youth, the Dutch study participants had no serious psychological conditions. Those studies were riddled with methodological flaws and weaknesses. There was no evidence that any intervention was lifesaving. There was no long-term follow-up with any of the study’s 55 participants or the 15 who dropped out. A British effort to replicate the study said that it “identified no changes in psychological function” and that more studies were needed.

In countries like Sweden, Norway, France, the Netherlands and Britain — long considered exemplars of gender progress — medical professionals have recognized that early research on medical interventions for childhood gender dysphoria was either faulty or incomplete. Last month, the World Health Organization, in explaining why it is developing “a guideline on the health of trans and gender diverse people,” said it will cover only adults because “the evidence base for children and adolescents is limited and variable regarding the longer-term outcomes of gender-affirming care for children and adolescents.”

But in America, and Canada, the results of those widely criticized Dutch studies are falsely presented to the public as settled science.

Other countries have recently halted or limited the medical and surgical treatment of gender dysphoric youth, pending further study. Britain’s Tavistock clinic was ordered to be shut down next month, after a National Health Service-commissioned investigation found deficiencies in service and “a lack of consensus and open discussion about the nature of gender dysphoria and therefore about the appropriate clinical response.”

Meanwhile, the American medical establishment has hunkered down, stuck in an outdated model of gender affirmation. The American Academy of Pediatrics only recently agreed to conduct more research in response to yearslong efforts by dissenting experts, including Dr. Julia Mason, a self-described “bleeding-heart liberal.”

The larger threat to transgender people comes from Republicans who wish to deny them rights and protections. But the doctrinal rigidity of the progressive wing of the Democratic Party is disappointing, frustrating and counterproductive.

“I was always a liberal Democrat,” one woman whose son desisted after social transition and hormone therapy told me. “Now I feel politically homeless.”

She noted that the Biden administration has “unequivocally” supported gender-affirming care for minors, in cases in which it deems it “medically appropriate and necessary.” Rachel Levine, the assistant secretary for health at the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, told NPR in 2022 that “there is no argument among medical professionals — pediatricians, pediatric endocrinologists, adolescent medicine physicians, adolescent psychiatrists, psychologists, et cetera — about the value and the importance of gender-affirming care.”

Of course, politics should not influence medical practice, whether the issue is birth control, abortion or gender medicine. But unfortunately, politics has gotten in the way of progress. Last year The Economist published a thorough investigation into America’s approach to gender medicine. Zanny Minton Beddoes, the editor, put the issue into political context. “If you look internationally at countries in Europe, the U.K. included, their medical establishments are much more concerned,” Beddoes told Vanity Fair. “But here — in part because this has become wrapped up in the culture wars where you have, you know, crazy extremes from the Republican right — if you want to be an upstanding liberal, you feel like you can’t say anything.”

Some people are trying to open up that dialogue, or at least provide outlets for kids and families to seek a more therapeutic approach to gender dysphoria.

Paul Garcia-Ryan is a psychotherapist in New York who cares for kids and families seeking holistic, exploratory care for gender dysphoria. He is also a detransitioner who from ages 15 to 30 fully believed he was a woman.

Garcia-Ryan is gay, but as a boy, he said, “it was much less threatening to my psyche to think that I was a straight girl born into the wrong body — that I had a medical condition that could be tended to.” When he visited a clinic at 15, the clinician immediately affirmed he was female, and rather than explore the reasons for his mental distress, simply confirmed Garcia-Ryan’s belief that he was not meant to be a man.

Once in college, he began medically transitioning and eventually had surgery on his genitals. Severe medical complications from both the surgery and hormone medication led him to reconsider what he had done, and to detransition. He also reconsidered the basis of gender affirmation, which, as a licensed clinical social worker at a gender clinic, he had been trained in and provided to clients.

“You’re made to believe these slogans,” he said. “Evidence-based, lifesaving care, safe and effective, medically necessary, the science is settled — and none of that is evidence based.”

Garcia-Ryan, 32, is now the board president of Therapy First, an organization that supports therapists who do not agree with the gender affirmation model. He thinks transition can help some people manage the symptoms of gender dysphoria but no longer believes anyone under 25 should socially, medically or surgically transition without exploratory psychotherapy first.

“When a professional affirms a gender identity for a younger person, what they are doing is implementing a psychological intervention that narrows a person’s sense of self and closes off their options for considering what’s possible for them,” Garcia-Ryan told me.

Instead of promoting unproven treatments for children, which surveys show many Americans are uncomfortable with, transgender activists would be more effective if they focused on a shared agenda. Most Americans across the political spectrum can agree on the need for legal protections for transgender adults. They would also probably support additional research on the needs of young people reporting gender dysphoria so that kids could get the best treatment possible.

A shift in this direction would model tolerance and acceptance. It would prioritize compassion over demonization. It would require rising above culture-war politics and returning to reason. It would be the most humane path forward. And it would be the right thing to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*

For those who want tor ead more by those fighting the cancellation forquestioning, read:

Graham Lineham, who's been fighting since the beginning and paid the price, but is not seeing things turn around.

The Glinner Update, Grahan Linehan's Substack.

Kellie-Jay Keen @ThePosieParker, who's been physically attacked for organizing events for women demanding women-only spaces.

REDUXX, Feminst news & opinion.

Gays Against Groomers @againstgrmrs, A nonprofit of gay people and others within the community against the sexualization, indoctrination and medicalization of children under the guise of "LGBTQIA+"

#detransitioners #detransition #gender critical #New York Times #gays #lesbians #trans #trans insanity #long post #article #detrans #transgender #post trans #desisted

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norrizzandpia · 5 months

Text

What We Could’ve Been and What We Are Now: The Masterlist (LN4 x Reader)

Summary: Jon’s daughter and childhood best friends, Y/n and Lando share a special type of love. A love that has always made them prioritize each other, show up no matter what when the other needed them. A love that turned romantic so incredibly, strikingly fast. When their friendship finally addresses that shared feeling and labels are thrown around, their connection takes a turn. Arguments, trust issues, and petty insults make up their young love and it’s not what either of them expected. A turning point, a stupid mistake, brings out an inevitable end and the two are left to stand in the midst of a destroyed relationship, a friendship that is no longer salvageable. However, young people make stupid mistakes that they later grow from and what happens when years later numbers are unblocked, words are shared again, and the love they shared burns once more? Warnings, an author’s note, chapter links and summaries, and a playlist below the cut!

Warnings: language, smut in later chapters (that will be specified on specific chapters), cheating

Note: please don’t be turned away by the cheating warning 🙏🏻 trust me when i tell you it all works out in the end in a way that does not have Y/n looking like she has no self worth

Chapter Links:

The Youngest Love (Chapter One)

A backstory to the beginning of a love story.

A Beautiful Start (Chapter Two)

Ever since their first official date, Y/n and Lando fall into the honeymoon phase.

Why Can’t You See It My Way?! (Chapter Three)

Arguments and bickering turn what once was into something messy and painful.

A Stupid Mistake (Chapter Four)

In the wake of their fight, Lando wakes up to someone who is not his Y/n.

If You Don’t Tell Her, I Will (Chapter Five)

Something that started out with the purest of intentions ends with the most dirty confession.

Please, I’m Sorry (Chapter Six)

Lando tries and tries to contact Y/n after their fallout. However, with a blocked contact and an angry Jon, he can only do so much.

Reconciling (Chapter Seven)

When he can’t reach Y/n, Lando goes to apologize to his second father.

Years Later (Chapter Eight)

His first race win is not the only reason why Lando is having the best day of his life.

Stay Up With Me? (Chapter Nine)

Picking up where they left off has never seemed so easy yet Y/n can’t get rid of the nagging fear of what could be repeated.

Listen To Me (Chapter Ten)

At the risk of another fallout, Lando works to stop from losing what he so foolishly lost before.

The Playlist:

1. The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo

2. Logical by Olivia Rodrigo

3. Making the Bed by Olivia Rodrigo

4. Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo

5. Take It All by Adele

6. Tolerate It by Taylor Swift

7. Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift

8. Hurt Me Once by Ben Platt

9. Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift

10. Keep That To Yourself (voice memo) by Tristan

11. I Miss You, I’m Sorry by Gracie Abrams

12. Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine

13. Movies by Conan Gray

14. Cardigan by Taylor Swift

15. Your Needs, My Needs by Noah Kahan

16. Betty by Taylor Swift

17. TV by Billie Ellish

18. Footnote by Conan Gray

19. Fine Line by Harry Styles

20. August by Taylor Swift

21. The 1 by Taylor Swift

22. Special by SZA

23. Marjorie by Taylor Swift

24. Decode by Sabrina Carpenter

25. Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift

26. Strawberry Wine by Noah Kahan

27. All My Love by Noah Kahan

28. Talk by Hozier

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cursedcola · 2 years

Note

Dorm leaders react to finding reader/yuu crying and overhear them say "I want to go home"?

A/N: Ah. Angst. My specialty lol. I am assuming you want imagine format? Hope so because that's what I am going with. Thank you for the request :)

Note: Idia's is so long. I went so overboard omg. I am sorry. I just think that he's neat.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle has seen many people cry, and unfortunately been the instigator for no small number of occurrences. Prior to turning over a new leaf, he was heinously blunt with his criticisms. Everyone knows this.

At the time he thought those people to be sensitive and naïve to the cruel ways of the world. They needed to toughen up!

That opinion lies in the past now. He was a prick. Riddle won't verbally acknowledge it but he knows. There is no need to bring it up because he is trying to change his ways

Key word: trying

You can't uproot years of bad habits and trauma overnight. He has his moments. From freaking out over students not studying, dress coding half the school, lecturing his friends on their diet....nothing too harsh, and no permanent harm done.

"This is not your world MC; 70% is unacceptable for a prefect to score on an exam. Slacking will not be tolerated! What kind of example are you setting for the other students?! Your grades reflect on the school!"

Perhaps he could have taken a moment to think and not let his emotions overcome him. Riddle knew how hard you studied; after all, you came to him for help many times. Each occasion he happily obliged and saw you progress using his study guides

It is why he wanted you to succeed. To show up with a perfect 100 that would be celebrated over sweets

Instead you arrived apprehensive and hiding your test behind your back. Already fragile and he-...goodness.

He sent you off running

Likely to go cower in the library and beat yourself up for disappointing him. Just like he used to do. Great Sevens he is an asshole. Ace is definetly going to rip him to shreds or at least throw his tea collection into the pond

After a brief rest to wash his face in the restroom, Riddle goes to the library and his heart shatters at the sound of sniffles from behind a particularly large stack of books.

"I can't do this anymore...this is too hard...he's right...he's right...he's right...I want to go home"

Sweat pools at his chin and his hands clench into tight, clammy fists. After hearing that, Riddle can't bring himself to interrupt and stands on the other side of the books, silent, and with his head down

He always felt regret and frustration after having an outburst - but all pale in comparison to the absolute shame and heartbreak hurting you has wrought

Leona Kingscholar

"Go home. It's past curfew"

And...no response. You are very lucky that Leona tolerates you, because ignoring him so flat-out would get you two nights in the slammer back where he comes from.

A goody-two-shoes like you never bends the rules, which is why Leona is curious to see you roaming the botanical garden so late. Not going to answer him? Now it's personal and he is your problem.

At first he opts to follow you around. Not for any particular reason, and merely because he wanted to find out if you stashed any secrets in the area

His patience runs thin as you walk up to every plaque and study each plant. You can't seriously be out here at this hour for a botany lesson, can you? Why not do this during the day

Each time you study a plant your mood seems to sour further. For absolutely no reason, at least from Leona's perspective. Not unless you have beef with the flora and fauna - which is impossible. Maybe. He really doesn't know what to expect from you anymore.

Eventually curiosity grows to concern. He's kept himself entertained, following you and leaving commentary once in a while. Yet he can't help but be creeped out with how you move around like a zombie.

With one plant left, he observes as you once again ignore him to examine it...only to let it go and sit on the floor in disappointment.

"So...You're out of plants, what now?"

He doesn't expect an answer after an entire night of nothing.

"I guess I'll go 'home'...wherever that is"

"Finally talking to me, huh? The hell is wrong with you? Do you think it's safe to be out here this late?,"

"Safe? It's just as safe right now as it is during the day"

A part of him screams to shut up and end the conversation there. It's not his buisness and he can just pretend this night never happened.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He can't help it.

"It means that nothing here is like home. Not the buildings, or the people, or the food, not even the plants. You know, where I come from roses grow on bushes not trees. And I don't have to worry about the broom I sweep the kitchen with suddenly taking flight! I want to go home where shit is normal"

Okay. You got him. He definetly wasn't prepared for that level of a stress dump.

What's worse is that he can't comfort you. He wants to. Truth be told, watching you wander through the garden listlessly upset him more than he is willing to admit. Yet he can't do anything, because that level of homesickness is something no one can understand.

"...NRC doesn't store every kind of plant in this garden. We can check other areas tomorrow"

Azul Ashengrotto

"Ah! At last, my food critique is here," Azul glows, clapping his hands when you walk into the room, "The Headmaster has given the Monstro Lounge a great opportunity to market our buisness at the upcoming cultural fair. Our stall's menu must be perfect!"

Azul ushers you inside with a hand on the small of your back and leads you to a prepared table. Truth be told, he could easily taste the new menu items himself or have one of the tweels do it on his behalf. So long as it tastes good, it will sell, right?

Wrong. In exchange for a vendor's slot and location that will actually yield profits - Azul had to make this contract worth the Headmaster's time.

In short, he promised something "never seen before," that would fit the festival's theme. Naturally, he did not do this without a plan. He had one made long before approaching Crowley with the idea.

You. You are the plan. Azul was going to theme his stall off of your world. Neat, right? All he needs is for you to monitor his project for accuracy, which he has already half-succeeded in doing by luring you here to taste test a new menu

"Jade! Bring out the first item," Sweat drips from the side of Azul's head, his inner anxiousness getting the better of him. Perhaps he should have told you instead of making it a surprise? He only had a few dish ideas to build off of from the rare times you spoke of your childhood. Sourcing similar ingredients without any idea of how things should taste was a task in itself. What if he butchers it? Would you hate him?

Jade sets the first dish on the table, and you visibly straighten up in surprise. You eye him in confusion, as if to say 'where the heck did you learn to make this? How?' and he softly smiles, "Go on. Take a bite,"

And you do. You lift a piece of the dish to your face and smell the aroma before taking a bite. A moment of silence passes, and Azul thinks he may have just killed two birds with one stone. Literally. Death to any chance he had with you or with the festival.

"It...it's not quite the same," you stare at the dish in thought, suddenly solemn, "yet still similar. Nostalgic, even. Thank you for making this for me. Truly, thank you"

A mixture of emotions fill him as he signals for Jade to prepare the next plate. Should he take that as a good response? He failed in recreating the dish perfectly, yet you appear content. Sitting there, slowly finishing the meal bit by bit and cherishing every bite.

"You’re welcome. If it suits your taste, we can add this to our permanent VIP menu," he hovers near your side before laying a gloved hand on your shoulder, "just for you"

You reach to lay your hand on top of his, "I'd like that. Sometimes I want to go home, but this? It helps,"

At that, Azul steels himself. Not only would this dish be added to his menu, but he will personally learn how to make anything you every mention from your home. He would make you talk more, and hopefully find a way to carve a place for you in Twisted Wonderland where you will never have to want for somewhere else.

Kalim Al' Asim

"Is that really necessary?"

Kalim pauses - well, to be fair, everything pauses with a flick of his wrist. Dust rags mid-air, sponges amidst cleaning dishes, the broom sweeping the floor, and so the books that were rearranging themselves in alphabetical order.

He hadn't expected you home for hours. Did Ruggie lie to him about you watching spelldrive practice?

Kalim rubs the back of his neck bashfully, and flicks his wrist for everything else to resume motion.

"Oh, prefect! You're home early. I wanted to help you fix up this dorm in return for everything you have done for me! Do you like it?"

A wet mop flies over your head, " I..uhm..yes? Yes, it's very sweet of you to offer but do we really need magic for this? I could have helped," and nearly drenches you in dirty mop water, earning a grimace of disgust.

Kalim chuckles, waving you off and out of the kitchen. He felt bad for sneaking in to your home while you were away, but he wanted o surprise you! Which...also did not happen, but you said he was sweet for it and that is exactly when he decided to stop listening.

A mantra of 'they think I'm sweet!' plays in his head as he sends more tools to clean the house as you both talk.

He makes a joke about how cleaning is easy with magic, and that you can call on him whenever you need help around the dorms. He will happily do it on your behalf

Which...may not have been the best thing to say to a magicless prefect that has been busting their ass trying to survive and be independent in a world where they do not fit in.

Just a little bit insensitive.

Miniscule enough for Kalim not to understand why you're suddenly frustrated with him.

His brow furrows when you plop on the couch an bury your face in your hands with a frustrated sigh.

"Ugh...you just- you don't get it. I swear, all you magic folk wouldn't last a day where I come from...ugh, I want to go home already"

You say the last bit under your breath but he still heard it. Kalim is aware that sometimes he does get ahead of himself, and that he has clearly overstepped a boundary. Normally he is not so hasty, but with you? All he wanted was to do something nice, and his mind was clouded.

He knows better than to flaunt what he has in front of other people. Not everyone has magic or the free will himself and many other students here are lucky enough to have. You've been working hard to be seen for your efforts, and that's something he admires greatly.

One by one the tools fly back to storage for safe keeping. All aside from the broom, which flies into Kalim's open hand. He steps in front of you, and holds the other out to help you up.

"Sorry, hehe. That was rude of me. I still want to help, so can we try again? Your way this time?"

Vil Schoenheit

"What is that thing?"

He had not intended to sound so repulsed. Disgusted? Yes. Just a tad, but there is a fine line.

You quirk an eyebrow at his comment, and follow his line of vision to the make-shift bracelet on your wrist. It was nothing fancy. Just your old shoe-laces put into an adjustable braid.

You tell him as such, and Vil cannot fathom what compelled you to make such an eyesore. He catches himself this time and doesn't voice it as bluntly

But my dear, it completely throws off your uniform. Goodness it's worse than Ruggie's oversized vest that he refuses to tailor.

"They're sentimental and from the sneakers I had on before someone put me in the ceremonial coffin. I still don't know who changed my clothes; and frankly? Don't want to, but at least they left my stuff in there,"

Okay, he understands. A piece from your past is hard to let go of but do you seriously need to wear it around campus? It completely throws off your charm.

Vil has always had a nasty habit of imposing his standards onto others, and so for the rest of the week you find him constantly eying your bracelet whenever he is nearby.

He merely wants to snip it with some scissors, he thinks, ever so tempted one evening when painting your nails.

You are his soon to be lover. Well, once you ask him to be so. Then he will turn you down and ask you himself because (1) he is not one who seeks, but is one who is sought after and (2) he must always have the upper hand despite this mindset

Anyway. You cannot walk around with those dirty laces on your wrist. He cannot accept it despite trying to on multiple occasions.

His compulsion overtakes reasoning, and as your nails are drying he "accidentally" cuts the thin cord holding the laces together with cuticle scissors

Needless to say that you are upset. Much more so than Vil ever could have predicted, and he watches in guilt as you try to salvage the laces with various knots

"I am sorry, my potato. Allow me to get you a new bracelet - "

"There is no new bracelet, Vil. This is from my home. I...I want to go home. This is all I have left and I need to fix it!"

It is not every day that Vil feels regret for his actions. He convinced himself that he was doing you a favor by getting rid of the old thing, but really? He was being selfish and ignored your feelings for what he wanted

He pushes that down, choosing not to acknowledge his fault and silently takes the broken bracelet. With a few strategic knots he has it stable, but it'll take some extra loving to fix properly.

"We can go out tomorrow to get some supplies. With a few beads, I am certain that these pieces could bind a lovely necklace together!"

He will have to be honest about breaking it on purpose, but for now Vil is happy that you have calmed down and are satisfied with his solution. Part of him wants to decipher what you said; however, he'll set that aside and take heed from his previous mistake. Something is keeping you tied to your home, and if he wants you to stay then he'll have to create a stronger bond for himself and this world first.

Idia Shroud

What does he always tell you?

No, not that there is always a catch with 'f2p' games. Well - yes, he does say that but right now we are talking about the other thing

Y'know

That the outside world sucks??? Hello??? He is essentially a broken record, repeating this every time Ortho or yourself try to get him to leave his room

Everything you need for survival can be acquired from one space. Need money? Work remote. Food? Delivery. Entertainment? Does he need to even -

Look. The point is made. Back on topic, Idia has enforced this time and time again. Yet you always insist on dragging him somewhere or going out on your own if he refuses. More often the latter, because you need to find him in a very special mood for him to go out anywhere physically. When you weren't as close, he would let you go off easily. It isn't his job to babysit you? Now though? He is a bit more 'tricky' on the topic.

Idia thrives on your attention. Absolutely adores it. When the CCTV picks you up as you bypass the Ignihyde security, his heart throbs because he knows that you have no other buisness here other than coming to see him or Ortho. Yet...he has issues being honest about this. Normally he'll be freaking out like a normie in his room until you knock, and then he speedily throws on his headset and pretends that he was in the middle of programming something important

Then you do your thing and "annoy," him with your "normie" talk. Tell him all about your day, joke around, play some games, maybe sneak out and get him stuff from the vending machine so he doesn't have to

And then it ends. Either it's late and you have to go home, or you have other plans to attend. Either way, you always extend an invitation for him to join. Just to get some fresh night air or go have some quality people time

As stated prior, at first he did not care. He'd let you go without a peep. Now? He has...ugh, emotional attachments *barf*. He hates knowing that you're leaving him to go have fun with other people, and he also is extremely uncomfortable with you walking alone at night. Did you not learn from what happened to him? Are you asking for a ghost to kidnap and take you as their bride/groom? He won't save you, y'know. He won't!

Needless to say, he is hella paranoid. More so about the second scenario than the first, because at least with other people you're just doing boring things like shopping.

So, Idia does what any sane person in his situation would do...and stalks you by hacking into NRC's security cameras. Just until you're in you’re home, safe, and he can relax. His intentions are pure and you haven't noticed yet. Why stop?

It's odd that on the night Idia begins to think his protective tendencies are unnecessary, that his anxiousness is justified

"What the f*ck?" He nearly growls, seeing three figures lurking outside his dorm, just beyond the entrance. Obviously not any of his students and seemingly waiting for someone.

His suspicions are proven right when you walk out the front door and one of them steps in your way. Idia thanks his past self for investing in high resolution cameras for his dorm, because he's easily able to get a clear picture of their face.

Unfortunately, audio recording is unethical (curse you Crowley) and he can't hear a word that they're saying - but it doesn't look good. Not from how you shrink backwards towards the front door, looking frantically for a way out. Sweat dribbles down Idia's neck as he debates what to do. He's not built for confrontation? But he's dorm leader, so isn't stopping this kind of stuff his job? Okay, but you're not a student of Ignihyde. Shit, you're his "friend" though. If he leaves you alone then why did he bother with all this in the first -

One of the figures grabs you by the collar, and Idia is out the door faster than Grimm when there's a can of tuna on the line. His desk chair left spinning in his wake as he bolts down the halls of his dorm

"Now listen here you little shit-"

"How about you listen ya filthy noob. I will give you three seconds,"

Idia throws open the front door an immediately pries the newly noted Savanaclaw student off you. His hair blazing double it's normal height and dark red, fueled by rage akin to what only Kingdom Hearts can evict from people. His eye begins to twitch just from looking at their false confidence fall apart. Of course, normies are all talk and no act when shit gets rough. What else did he expect?

"We have no buisness with you, shut-in. Butt out,"

"Three seconds. Leave or I will activate our military grade security systems,"

"Wha-"

"Two"

"Dude, you think we care?"

"One"

"Fine! Whatever! Don't think you're off the hook, prefect"

The title is spit out like a curse, and Idia nearly calls his newest project to chase after them ('Cerberus' Robotic doggos meant to deliver mail, but have an attack function. Why not?)

By the time they’re gone, Idia's thoughts begin to settle and his sense of self returns. He's outside, in his casual clothes with no shoes, there's a slight chill, and he's gripping something - or rather someone - tightly.

"Ah! I'msorryIdidn'tmeantotouchyou," he jumps back, his hair turning bright pink and hands shaking from what he did

You cough into your fist, "No prob. You didn't have to do that...I know you hate confrontation," your voice comes out shaky, and Idia's brain halts, "You're crying," he whispers in disbelief.

"What? No. Pssh. You seriously think that could shake me up? Have you seen the stuff I deal with daily?"

He is not convinced. If it were anyone else, he would have left. He can't handle this kind of stressful situation...then again, he normally can't handle confrontation either, but he just did so…

He sighs, inching closer "What...what did they say to you?" he can try. He might regret it, but he hasn't been rational all night.

Your eyes glaze over, likely reliving whatever conversation just took place before your eyes well up, "I know it's not true. I know. I know I can fit in somehow but I just want to go home. It would be so much easier if I could just go home,"

The last of your words are muffled by your hands as you frantically try to compose yourself. Idia doesn't need to hear more. He's intuitive. From what you've said and the way that student spoke your title...he gets it. Which is why he leads you back inside, lets you sleep in his bed, and prepares a special little surprise for those students with the camera footage from earlier. He was planning to stay awake playing video games, why not use his time more ‘productively’?

Idia stands by his words - the outside world sucks. Yet you know what sucks more? Pissing him off, and making one of the only people he has *barf* emotional attachments to, feel the need to leave him and go to another world to feel safe. There is a reason he was placed in Ignihyde, and it wasn't his smarts or reclusiveness.

No. It was his temper.

Malleus Draconia

“Prefect. Does this belong to you?”

Malleus holds out a phone unlike any sold in Twisted Wonderland. At first he thought his technological illiteracy was why he couldn’t pin point the design, so he brought the phone to Ignihyde’s dorm leader. Not even Idia recognized the brand, but with a bit of tinkering he was able to get the phone charged and working (through methods Malleus could not begin to fathom).

The home screen brightened up and soon they found your name in the settings. Malleus was surprised, to say the least. He did not expect you to be the owner of such foreign technology, or for Idia to throw the phone as if it burned him. Something about being a ‘red flag’ and invading your privacy? Eh. Surely there is nothing too concerning inside an old phone.

To be safe, he withholds his curiosity in favor of returning the phone to you. He could not navigate it even if he wanted to, honestly.

He made the right call. The way your eyes sparkle with recognition at the device and take it gingerly from his hands. You twirl it around a few times in disbelief, earning a bemused chuckle from him.

“I found it near the ceremonial hall. Be careful with your belongings or else they may one day end up in the wrong hands,”

You smile brightly at him when the screen lights up, and throw your arms over his shoulders in a hug, “Thankyouthankyouthankyou! I can’t believe you found this for me! I was so worried I lost all my pictures and data,”

You startle him with the physical contact. He definitely did not picture your first hug to go this way. Although he quickly composes himself, returning the gesture albeit with less strength.

He grows curious, “Pictures? Data?” wondering if there really was something worth while in the phone. You pull him at arms length and giddily start tapping away at the screen, “yeah! Having this means I can should you all what my world looks like! Food, people, scenery - oh, I think I have some memes saved too,”

He refrains from asking what a ‘meme’ is, too caught up in trying to understand you. Sure, he expected you to be happy that he found your phone but to see this level of cuteness? Are you missing anything else that he can find?

You hastily show him your phone and begin to swipe through the “camera roll,” as you call it. Once in a while you stop to laugh, explain who a person is or what’s going in in a picture. He soaks it all in like a sponge, committing each face to memory since they’re important to you.

Time passes, and you begin to slow down. Occasionally you’ll stare at a photo longingly, or revisit others to zoom in on faces or pieces of the scenery.

“I wonder if they miss me,” you whisper, and he understands where your heart is. Painfully so.

He stares at your reflection in the phone, wondering how such joy can be turned to sorrow so quickly, “They would be fools not to. You are…unforgettable…to say the least,”

You nod, wiping away a stray tear, “I hope so. I want to go home, but the thought of them forgetting me? Or the people here doing the same…I wish that I didn’t have to choose,”

You will never be forgotten. Malleus can assure you that much. The nickname “Tsunotaro,” will forever haunt him (affectionately) for the rest of his life - and you? He will always care for you, no matter where you go.

He cannot make that choice for you or take away your suffering. Neither does he regret retuning the phone and digging up these old memories. It pains him to see you so heartbroken, but he knows you love that world just as much as this one.

You won’t have to choose. He will find a way to bridge both worlds if it means that you can be happy. Then you can take him to all the places in those pictures, introduce him to the people and things you love - and then? He isn’t quite sure, but it’s a start to a long road of ensuring that you never leave his side.

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eamour · 2 months

Text

unfavourable concepts.

i've been meaning to address this for some time now. with social media becoming a platform with such a large number of people talking about different concepts in love, work, health and so on, there are concepts which i think need to be discussed, especially as they affect so many of us.

before we start, celest1albeing on twitter inspired me to write this post! make sure to check out their thread on there as well.

disclaimer.

these are concepts that don’t serve me personally. i don’t expect you to stop believing these concepts or make them apply to you and the world if you have no problems with them. if you can resonate and identify with these, that’s perfectly fine.

concepts of love.

information · these are all only examples which i seem to encounter frequently and which seem to be common.

young men cannot commit · men only treat pretty women with respect · all male friends of women just wanna hit · if he wanted to he would · they categorise you into sweet, sexy and pretty · he doesn’t love you if he does this · men always cheat and lie · they all only want one thing · they only like ass or tits · all men are the same · you can't change his type · you aren't his dream girl · men love quiet women · if a man doesn’t pay he isn't the one

you are just an option · once you are married your partner will become less romantic · after 3 months their true colours will show (honeymoon phase) · true love doesn’t exist · after the talking stage you either get into a situationship or go no contact · getting into a relationship is hard ·

women can’t be friends with men · women are complicated · they only want your money and wouldn’t want to date men who earn little · there is always another woman · they always look for someone better · you have to work on your divine feminine energy · you need to get out of your masculine energy · a woman needs to know her place

concepts of work.

money doesn’t grow on trees · it’s hard to get money · you have to work hard in order to afford your lifestyle · only if you do the work you can get a promotion · you could never be a ceo · you need to be privileged and born into richness for this position · this generation is lazy · no one wants to work · they are all going to end up jobless and poor · nowadays we are only evolving backwards

concepts of school.

you need to learn in order to get good grades · you cannot be smart without putting in the effort · teachers always have their favourite students · it's almost impossible to get good grades by teachers who can't stand you

concepts of health.

pasta makes you gain weight · you need to eat xyz and you cannot eat zyx · junk food is unhealthy · you need to workout in order to be fit · you can only lose weight by eating less · good skin requires an expensive skin care routine · t's hard to treat acne · you cannot get rid of scars on your face

self sabotage.

all in all, it all comes down to one thing: but is this what you want to believe in? do these beliefs serve you in any way? can you continue believing in them without worsening life for yourself? see, i am not the one shoving these concepts down your throat and expecting you to tweet "men ain’t shit". it’s all up to you if you want to claim these concepts as your truth or not. but if you keep believing in any undesirable concept that you KNOW does not help you in any way, you are only self sabotaging yourself IF you know that you can change these beliefs of yours.

evaluation.

the reason why i made this post is to emphasise that you can CHOOSE to believe in these concepts or not. you aren't tied to them. you don't depend on them. and you don't need to follow these concepts either.

i know we live in a society where even if you don’t initially believe that men suck or that you will get cheated on one way or another, we are still influenced by the experiences of others and may end up experiencing these things regardless. but you don’t have to!!! just because jessica had a man promise her the world and left her with nothing it doesn’t mean that it’s gonna happen to you as well. you are NOT her, you aren’t — and you don’t have to be — ANY of these people telling you about how awful people are, how sickening it is to date in this decade, etc. you don’t have to believe ANY of these things, in fact, you can change these concepts and the people around you.

in conclusion, you are your own person with your own individual beliefs. however, you have the CHOICE. no one's forcing you to believe any of these concepts, nor do they hold a universal truth to them. they come from the same awareness that can state the exact opposite.

with love, ella.

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jamilelucato · 2 years

Text

blue - 001

show: Stranger Things [SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4]

pairing: female reader x peter ballard

summary: growing up in the lab with Dr Brenner for a father wasn't easy, but you had a friend that made things a bit tolerable.

It wasn’t easy being the daughter of Dr Martin Brenner, but you did your best to please him. He was a very systematic man, who wished to control everything and everyone as he saw fit, and you had no problem following orders, except that it was clear your father was setting you up for failure. He never made a secret that he did not like that you were born a female, not a male, and you guessed that was the reason behind all of his impossible requests he kept on making, always wanting more of your brain than it could ever learn.

That was the reason why you grew old in his lab in Hawkins— he expected you to follow him around like a loyal dog, and you were generally making notes on the things you saw in there.

It was no surprise to you when he asked for your presence to see something that had arrived at the lab. “A new subject,” he had called the boy, not as if dad was king and, the boy, his commoner, but as if the boy was a school subject, as it was what your father envisioned the boy to be to you.

“Come on in, daughter,” he said, getting up from where he was sitting. “This is number one.”

You walked in slowly, scared. You were barely ten, but smarter than most teens, but at that moment, you felt like a little dear, scared for his life. You stared at the boy sitting in front of where your father was and you were shocked to find a calm boy. You expected to see someone as scared as you, or even more, but no. Number 001, as your father called him, was serene, and he stared back at you like he could see your very soul.

“Number one, this is my daughter, [y/n] Brenner,” your father made the room so you could sit in the chair he once sat in. “Get familiar with her, as she is to be your future doctor, once she graduates.”

The boy stared back at your father. His head movement was weird as if he was used to having some hair to move when looking up, but there was no hair on top of his head, just his buzzcut.

“I’ll let you two get to know each other, as I’m sure my daughter can enlighten you about who I am,” was the last thing your father said before leaving and locking the door behind.

You gulped, forcing yourself to stop facing the door and look back at the boy.

He looked your age, maybe just a bit older.

“My name is not one,” he said, breaking the silence with a rasping voice.

“I’m sorry?”

He smiled, not showing his teeth. It was as if he found pleasure in seeing you confused.

“My name’s Henry.”

“Was,” you corrected him because that was expected. You knew that even though your father left, he could be watching you two, by the mirror windows or even the cameras. You learned long ago that they were everywhere in the lab. “You’re not Henry anymore.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Then, the quietness came again. No one uttered a word. You were still nervous, gulping by the second, but the boy just laid back, watching. You didn’t like the silence, it made you overthink.

“You can call me just by [y/n], you know,” you said.

“Not a doctor then?”

“Oh, as much as my Papa likes to brag, I’ll only graduate high school next year. I still have a while before getting hold of my doctored degree.”

“Graduating high school?” that seemed to surprise him.

You couldn’t help but smile. It was a hard life, studying like crazy and not ever getting complimented, but you liked knowing you were a genius. “I am young as I look, but as my father’s daughter, I must be at the top of not just my class, but everyone else’s.”

“Must be exhausting,” he replied, looking away.

He wasn’t expecting you to agree in a whisper. “It is.”

Both of you exchanged a knowing look. Maybe there was not much knowledge of each other, but there was of yourselves. You knew you weren’t gonna have an easy life, and he knew he was destined for one difficult as well. Doomed, was the word, but back then, you didn’t know. You just didn’t know.

“Sorry I’m late, P,” you said, sitting down on the white floor.

Everything was white at that goddam lab, but you were used to it, or at least, it didn’t bother you as much as it did in the beginning.

Your friend Henry, or as you nicknamed him Peter, was the Number 001, and he was already in the room, sitting on the floor at the very same spot you two had found for each other. It was nice being able to just sit on the ground, and not care about getting dirty, as if there was any chance of that happening in the lab. It was simple and it put you two on the same level, which was true even if your papa wouldn’t agree.

Before getting your doctorate, you and Henry were not much of friends, although you supposed you were each other’s closest person in each life. Peter had access to the other kids, the other numbers, but they were just babies, while you spent your life alone, guided solely by Dr Brenner, your father. It was lonely for both of you, and once you had your degree in your hands, you decided to get closer to the boy who was always staring you around when you came down to the lab.

At first, your father did not approve of your specialization in psychology, but once he started filling the lab with children, he realized your diploma was very much in need, and he gave you a room, so you could listen and take notes on each of the kids’ complaints.

And even though number 001 was no longer a kid, he still had a scheduled hour with you, every Tuesday and Thursday.

When he walked in, for his first appointment ever, you were as nervous as he was shocked to see you. You had only turned eighteen, but he was about to be nineteen, and a lot had changed. Yeah, you saw each other grow up, but not as frequently as the hearts would hope, and a lot had changed.

You were one of them now, at least it was how he saw you that very first Tuesday. You were dressed in white, with your hair fixed in a tight ponytail. There were no more pink and yellow dresses. And he had changed too. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his light blue eyes, and he was way taller than you.

You remembered him being cold, scared to talk. Of course, he did not lose his posture of serenity, as if he was always the most intelligent one in every room he walked in.

Neither of you remembered how or when it all changed, how you two came to agree with sitting on the floor and sharing your lunch (you always brought something tasty from the outside, something the kids would never have access to). Something had happened — maybe a look you shared or a word he spoke, neither of you could point at the thing, but both were very glad it had happened.

Peter looked forward to his appointments with you, for it was the only hour he had to be himself, to feel free. Yes, your room was as white as the rest of the place, but when it was just the two of you behind the closed door, suddenly, it felt coloured. It felt rainbowy.

“It’s okay. It’s not like I’m not used to being alone,” he said, jokingly, and you pushed him with your left hand while he laughed. “You shouldn’t…” he had to pause because he was laughing too hard “... push me like this, Dr; I’m sure your father won’t like it.”

“Papa?” you echoed. It was funny now that you were twenty to call him papa because that was the very nickname Dr Brenner was forcing the kids, the other numbers, to call him. Well, the word was not funny per se, as it was more weird than comic. “Papa can’t see in here,” you said, smiling, “so I just kill you and it won’t matter.”

Peter smiled again, that beautiful smile that always heated your heart. His hair was growing again, out of his buzzcut, as you noticed it happened way faster than with the other kids. It was so unfair, you thought, for he had the most beautiful golden hair. You were thankful the numbers had a schedule for haircuts, and Peter had to wait for the day with the others, instead of being taken to cut it earlier, because then it allowed you moments like that one, where you could see some locks fighting to grow.

You took advantage of his silence to inform some news.

“I’ve been talking to him, you know. I think… I think he will allow it, P. He’ll let you be a worker here, not just…”

“Don’t say patient,” he quickly interrupted you, knowing very well you hated to use ‘subject’ even though it was way better than ‘prisoner’, which he was.

You stared at him, focusing on every detail of his blue eyes.

You didn’t understand what happened to you two, why were you like this… How did you become friends? And is that the ideal word for the two of you?

Unlike most of the other numbers, Number One had a childhood outside the lab. He got to know some customs of American society, customs that used to reveal themselves without him realizing it. You liked those moments—when he referenced some ‘50s song, or even when he opened the door and let you out first. Most of the other kids couldn’t even form a sentence properly—and they were barely aware of some American habits and customs. It was like talking to little Tarzans, rescued from the forest.

“Sometimes... do you sometimes think about your life before?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Stop analyzing me,” he said, pretending to be angry, but he knew very well that the question had been asked by [y/n] and not by Dr [y/n] Brenner. He was avoiding answering you, which probably meant that yes, he often thought about it. When he was Peter, though he was still Peter when he walked into your room. He’d never be Number One there — you would never allow it. “I think of my father.”

You gulped, nervously, just like you used to do when you were a kid.

There wasn’t much you knew about Peter’s life before he met your father, but you knew enough. He killed his parents, or at least he tried to kill his father, but only managed to end his mother and sister. You never knew his motives, for he never talked about it. All the info you had was given by your father, but he didn’t usually care for motives, only for results. So Dr Brenner theorized Peter killed his family because of something traumatic he must’ve been through, and that was enough.

For you, however, the question always remained.

“Your father… he was imprisoned, right?” you asked, trying to play it casually. You had done your research, but in any way did you want to scare him.

Peter looked back at you, your elbows almost touching.

“He was,” he said as if he wanted to say more but just couldn’t.

“Sometimes, I wish my father went to prison,” you let out your guilty truth. You knew what your father did to the kids, you weren’t dumb. But you spent so many years trying to please him, that it was hard to imagine yourself doing anything that could jeopardize your papa. Besides, his research was important, the kids maybe did not receive the best of treatments, for the love Dr Brenner offered was only when the children had reached important achievements but wasn’t that the love he offered you, his very blood daughter?

You watched Peter as he frowned, clearly feeling sorry for you. Although that was one of the rare comments you made about your father that could indicate a bad upbringing, it was only presumed that the boy used by the doctor would assume that the man was not a good father.

“One day,” he said, “we’ll get out of here, huh.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. We’ll get your fancy diploma and my crazy abilities and make a world of our own.”

“I don’t know about a world,” you smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I’m happy with just a house.”

He tilted his head towards yours and the two of you just stayed there, in silence, enjoying each other’s company. There was so much to be said… but there was never the right time. You hoped Peter understood that dreaming of leaving was just that: a dream. You couldn’t escape your papa, and he could even less, as he was not just his whole research base but also his favourite prisoner.

Peter wanted to protect you.

He always wanted to protect you, ever since he met you, the little girl in pigtails, walking in all nervous and looking at him as if you were surprised and scared at the same time. He was not much older than you, but somehow he knew it was his job to be the protector.

He saw through your mind — even though he didn't want to, it was inevitable with a power like his. He saw that you were just the perfect daughter even though your father was far from being the perfect papa you saw him as. He saw a mind as complex and smart as his and he was glad to find in you a twin soul.

Although he saw you grow old, he didn’t see you as often as he hoped, and there were weeks when he grew desperate, thinking Dr Brenner had done some evil against you, but then, all of the sudden, you were crossing the corridors following him around like a puppy, taller and prettier than the last time he saw you, and that was enough. It had to be.

However, three weeks before his nineteenth birthday, a guard came to his room, asking for him to accompany him for Number One had an appointment. Needless to say, Peter was very surprised when, opening the door, he found [y/n], dressed in white this time, just like the other doctors, but at the same time so different. She still had the same energy — a scared little genius. She looked pretty, more like a woman this time than the last, even though she was younger than him.

He was surprised, but he managed to pretend he was careless. What were you doing there, in a room all alone in the lab? He thought by now you’d be free of her father, but he was wrong. Or maybe you didn’t want to be free. Maybe you had become one of them officially.

So he kept his cold distance, scared you were gonna run more tests with him.

But it wasn’t what you did.

In your first appointment, you just sat there and told him about your trajectory, similar to your first conversation when he was eleven years old, except this time you had managed to accomplish all of those things your father had only planned.

He listened to it all because, why wouldn't he? It was you after all. His weak spot. The one that would doom him.

Before he knew it, he was anxious, waiting for your next appointment, and, although again, he remained silent and just listened to you, he noticed that he liked it. He just liked being in your presence.

Something happened then, something shifted, and before he knew it, he was telling you everything, all about the tests and the powers; powers you could not comprehend, but that didn’t stop him from trying to explain and eventually show them to you.

Friends, he supposed. You two were friends. He had never thought of calling someone that before, but perhaps it was fit for the little relationship you two had formed.

And since he defined you as a friend, it was no surprise that one day, Dr Brenner, the Dr Brenner, requested his presence in his office.

“Yes, Papa?” he hated to call the man that, he was bloody twenty-one years old, but if he called Brenner any other thing, he would be a dead man by the morning.

“I have been watching you closely, my boy,” he said, trying to put emotion in his words, but failing miserably. “And I think, as you’ve come of age, you should have a more important job here. Perhaps it’s time you help the other children, huh? Help them achieve their potential maximum, as I’ve done with you. You could be my left hand.”

Peter lowered his head, pretending to be honoured. There was no honour in serving Dr Brenner, but Peter knew it was better being a guard than being a subject. At least someone (the children) would stop looking at him like a child that grew too fast.

“That would be an honour, Papa. I mean, sir, as I suppose should be the one I should call you now,” Peter said, testing the waters. “It wouldn’t be right for the kids to see that Number One is in charge but they aren’t, right?”

Dr Brenner took a second to observe.

“Right. It’d be best if they didn’t know you are Number One. let them think he grew and left for the world. You shall be… I forgot; what was your name from before again, my boy?”

“Peter,” he replied, but soon realised he did it too quickly.

The doctor stared at number One, analysing, pensive towards his easiness of recalling his name. He wasn’t supposed to be remembering that time of freedom, before the lab.

Peter felt like that was his first test in the new position and he had just failed.

“Well, Peter, that shall be you calling from now on. Go to your room, yes? I’ll send someone to take your things to a new area of the building and explain your duties in the new position. But be clear that I’ll still expect you to continue training.”

“Sure. Thank you for the opportunity, sir.” And Peter left, not fast enough, but he did not stay to hear more — he just wanted to leave.

“Who’s that?” he asked you, following the little girl that was accompanying your father as they passed down the hall.

“Eleven,” you said, as that was the number the little girl was designated and you had no idea what her real name was. “She’s been raised here, but isolated. Papa thinks she’s powerful.”

Peter crossed his arms, still following the girl with his eyes.

His hair was longer than the last time you saw him, and you liked it that way. Since he became a guard and helper, Dr Brenner cut him off from his appointments with you, so you were only able to see Peter if by chance you two crossed paths in the halls, like it was happening there.

It was unfortunate that you couldn’t see each other weekly, but you knew he would rather be a guard than be a ‘patient’, as you used to call and he used to hate it.

“Powerful how?”

“She had been through this whole way of birth… I don’t know how to explain it. She’s not a patient of mine,” you said.

“Why?” he questioned, genuinely interested.

“I don’t know. Papa says she’s too young. But I’ve talked to her, during some tests… She indeed seems very powerful. Talented.” You tilted your head, remembering the first time you saw Eleven.

“So she’s his new Number One,” Peter uncrossed his arms, only to smile at you, tossing his blond locks away from his eyes.

“You’re still number one,” unfortunately, you thought, a bit sad.

“Am I still the most talented and powerful person in the lab?”

“Oh,” you decided to provoke him. “I think Eleven wins.”

“How dare you!” he said, but he was laughing, and soon, so was you.

When you noticed the time on your watch, you decided to ask for a favour.

“Just… watch over her, huh? I feel like you’ll see her more than me, as it seems father won’t trust her over my surveillance. Eleven, she feels like she’ll need a friend.”

“You know you’re my only friend,” he said, and his expression was serious. He wasn’t lying.

“And you’re mine.”

He sighed. “I’ll watch over her.”

“Thank you,” you mouthed, soundless before leaving to go back to your job.

Peter watched as you left, reflecting on your plea. He saw in your mind that you cared for Eleven, more than you cared for the other kids. And if your request was for him to watch over the little girl, then he would be his bloody guardian if needed.

“Happy birthday, doc.”

You stared up from your cupcake with a candle on top to see Peter, also known as Number One, in your room. There were rare times when he would come in, especially after he stopped being your patient, so you were surprised with his visit, but mostly, you were concerned because he saw your sad moment with the birthday cupcake.

“Thank you, P,” you said, shrugging and blowing the candle. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to say happy birthday. I know those things matter to you.”

You tilted your head while frowning before replying, jokingly, attempting to distract him from your real reasons. “It stopped mattering when I turned 25.”

“[y/n],” he smiled and walked in, closing the door behind, “you just turned 30. You’re not old.”

You were glad he decided not to mention your father — the real reason behind your sad birthdays. He never remembered, or he was always busy; you wish it didn’t matter, mainly as you grew older, but it still bothered you. Fortunately, you had Peter.

“I don't think I've mentioned it before but I like when you call me Peter,” he said, changing subjects.

“I'd never call you 001.”

“I know, but... you could call me Henry. It's better than the number,” he shrugged. “I like being Peter, the guy that works at the lab and not Henry the cursed son of a troubled man.”

You lowered your head, remaining in silence for you had not what to say after that.

“How’s Eleven?” you asked, because, as it seemed, you cared for the girl and it was a good way to change the subject. It was only natural to ask about her to the person who was spending at least ten hours per day with her.

Peter came closer to your chair, looking down at you with pity. It wasn’t as if Eleven was in danger (not more in danger than all of them) or as if she was a stupid child, but Peter didn't like that you cared that much. It made him care too, and that was unforgivable.

“She’s okay. The other kids don’t like her, but she’s managing,” he said.

You sighed. “Well, I suppose it could be worse.”

“Sure. It’s not as if your father isn’t experimenting on her or something.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like it isn’t the truth?” he replied, bothered that you didn’t like his sick joke.

“I know what my father does, ok? Do you think I like it?” you shouted, perhaps a bit too louder than needed. “Do you think I have any power against it?”

“No, but I do! I have power!” he yelled back. “Just say the word, [y/n], and we’ll burn this place to the ground.”

By place, you knew he meant your father. Your Papa.

And even though you had enough reasons to agree, you just couldn’t.

You sighed, giving up on the fight.

“I’m sorry,” Peter sighed too, and he placed one of his hands on your chin, forcing you to look back up, to look at him again. You allowed him, mostly because you were tired, but partly because it calmed you down to look at his beautiful blue eyes. “I didn’t come in here to fight. I wanted to give you a gift. For your birthday.”

You stared at him, confused. You could see his hands — there was no package in them.

But Peter’s gift… it didn’t need to be wrapt.

Growing up with parents that loved each other was kinda gross, at least it was what young Peter thought, seeing them touching lips all the time. He didn’t understand the reason behind it, why would they need to kiss at every chance they got?

Then, Peter came to the lab, he became Number One, his mother was dead, and he forgot all about it. He forgot the name of the feeling humans have, the one that curls up their stomachs and makes their hearts beat faster. He forgot it all until he didn’t. Until you showed up. And maybe his heart was racing, maybe he wanted to touch you.

Sometimes, brushing shoulders wasn’t enough.

So he remembered something, something lost in his past and probably unfamiliar to you too, as both had weird upbringings, but he thought it was just perfect. Peter knew he had to give it a try.

He raised his hand from your chin to your cheek and allowed the other to follow. Your eyes widened as you understood what was going on, but you did nothing to stop him. Hell, you had been waiting for that for decades.

You could leave the lab, you had access to movies. Even though there weren’t many kisses in your life — motherless childhood and all (besides the fact that you were always the nerd in school and life) — you desired to be kissed. You waited for that moment when you were fifteen, then at eighteen, then strong as ever when you were twenty (when Peter burst in celebrating being repositioned as a guard and not a simple number).

So you let him and you responded to the kiss. You touched him too, pulling him by his golden hair that you so much admired, and you let your lips open just enough that he could understand the signal. And Peter understood, as he too wanted more — wanted to feel you, taste you, and not just lips and tong, but hands, oh, wandering hands that travelled from your cheekbones to your curves, to pull you close.

If first you were sitting and he had to lean down to reach you, that was in the past minute, because he managed to change your positions with ease, placing you over his lap as he sat on your chair.

“I think…” you started but he kissed you, silencing you.

“Don’t think,” he replied. “If you think, I’ll think.”

“Peter…”

You could feel his smile on your lips.

“Let’s reshape the world, [y/n],” he whispered, kissing your neck, “join me.”

His hands tightened on your back when he noticed you froze. Damn it, he thought.

“We can free all the numbers and we can remake this place, this world, however, we see fit.”

“Why are you saying this to me?” you asked, confused. You thought it was about kissing, but maybe this primitive form of touch awoke something in him. It was two desires combined and you were scared Peter wasn’t gonna forget it.

There was no escaping your father, as much as you liked to dream about it.

You kissed him again. “Forget it, Peter.”

You pulled him closer by the collar of his white shirt.

“Focus on me.”

“It’s all I’ve been focused on, [y/n]. Couldn’t you see? How desperate I am to leave but I stay? Why do you believe I stay?” he kissed you back but this time you pulled away. “Don’t think, [y/n].”

You tried to find his eyes, his calming blue eyes that you loved to stare at. You would see sense there. You would see the real him there.

And you saw the real him there.

Blue. Ice cold blue eyes.

“Peter, let me go,” you said, expecting him to drop his hands from your leg and back.

But he didn’t.

“You just kissed me, Peter, why can’t you enjoy it?”

He shook his head. “How can I? Do you think your father will give us his blessing?”

You closed your eyes.

“And even if he does, do you think he’ll leave us be? Do you think he’ll let my children be?”

You gulped. “You’re overthinking, Peter,” you said, trying to remain calm.

“With whom do you think I’ve to learn it?” his voice was louder and it echoed in the room.

“Let me go,” you asked, but he ignored you, he just kept going with his monologue about the world and freedom. “Let me go, Number One.”

He instantly dropped you. One minute you were on his lap, the other you were on the floor. You got up, adjusting your skirt, trying to get to the door.

“Why did you call me that, Dr Brenner?”

You gulped.

“Why did you have to call me that, Dr Brenner?!”

You finally reached for the door. You had the handle in your fingers. He wasn’t holding you anymore. It was going to be ok.

“Say you’re sorry, please, [y/n],” Peter said, his blue eyes looking deep into yours.

“I’m sorry I called you by your number, ok? It won’t happen again.”

“That’s not the apology I wanted to hear.”

“Peter…”

“I think I loved you, did you know that?” he asked, getting closer, step by step, slowly.

You just knew you were doomed because the goddamn door didn’t open no matter how hard you pulled or pushed.

“Loved?”

“I think you loved me too.”

“I love you too,” you said, in an attempt to save your life, even though it was the truth.

“Tisk tisk,” he made the noise with his tongue. “Loved, dear. Loved.”

He didn’t even raise his hand before it all went dark.

#jamie campbell bower #starnger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #peter ballard #peter ballard x reader #number 001 #001 x reader #eleven #jane hopper #mike x will #fanfic #netflix #dr brenner #st fic #st fanfic

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mcdonaldsnumberone · 1 year

Text

BETCHA!

noa had expected that giving advice to kaiser on his love life would be no easy feat, but when kaiser realizes that you have next-to-no interest in him, the german prodigy works up a storm in his master’s office. noa can only pray that he has the patience to whip kaiser into the true romantic gentleman you deserve. (+insp.)

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): kaiser x reader except it’s mostly noa teaching kaiser how to not be a shitty lover

Noa knew that becoming the mentor and master of any team would be far from an easy job.

He had braced himself for the worst when he agreed to teach Bastard Munchen everything in his own arsenal, to lead the new youth team to become soccer’s future for when he would one day inevitably retire. He was more than aware of the nasty personalities the sport seemed to bring out from everyone (himself included, he had to admit), and he had readied himself to see sparks fly in all the worst ways possible as the teenage boys butted heads with each other.

Growing pains, he chalked it up to. Even he was once like that. Hungry, desperate, ready to prove himself to the world as the true diamond-in-the-rough amongst the common pebbles all around him.

He had braced himself for physical fights, with the youths squabbling with each other over who should have scored. And he got plenty of that. He also got plenty of haranguing them into getting up early in the mornings for practice and fighting to keep them motivated into the unforgiving hours of the night. He had braced himself for dealing with all of their managerial issues, from the boys transferring teams to needing travel visas and whatnot.

All of the little things he had grown used to and faced during his own career, Noa was more than equipped to deal with. And he believed he solved each and every one of these problems with the same level head and grace that secured him his spot as the world’s number one striker.

What Noa wasn’t prepared for, however, were the issues involved with the budding relationships the Bastard Munchen players would face. His advice for their romantic lives were usually the same: make smart choices, stay out of paparazzi’s sight, and be respectful. That typically did the job for most of his mentees, and Noa could put his busy mind at rest.

Except for one specific boy who seemed to make it his life’s reason to break every rule that Noa had set in place for them.

Noa was sick and tired of cleaning up after every mess Kaiser made. He was used to Kaiser dragging in all sorts of celebrities and famous people he had hit it off with in a club or some other place, bragging about how he had finally found the one, to which Noa was always patient (and quick to remind the young boy that he had still yet to turn 20 and most definitely had not found “the one” quite yet). Like clockwork, a week would pass, and Kaiser would be on the quest to find the next person to entertain his fickle heart.

So frankly, when you rolled around, Noa had thought Kaiser’s obsession with you would only last about the same as his previous flings. Noa quietly waited out a week. Then another. And another. Then a few more. And to his surprise, you stuck to Kaiser’s mind. Kaiser still pursued you as relentlessly as he did the first day he brought you up to Noa, and Noa realized how difficult it would be to actually wrangle in a full-blown delusional, lovestruck Kaiser.

“NOAAAAAAAAAA!”

Noa rubbed at his temples, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath through his nose. He held it for a few seconds, like how his therapist had recommended, before breathing out through his mouth for a few more seconds. Noa was fully aware that he threw a life of peace away the moment he chose to become a professional athlete, but asking for more than fifteen minutes of uninterrupted silence seemed less plausible than winning the World Cup fifteen times in a row.

The door to his office flew open with such force that the Frenchman was surprised it hadn’t flown clean off of its hinges. “Shitty master! There you are! I need your advice!”

“No need to be so violent or loud, Kaiser.” Noa turned on the swivel chair the Blue Lock facility had given him, tearing his eyes away from the statistics and team strategies he had been working on. “They’ll be able to hear even from across the compound.”

Kaiser stood in his doorway, looking disheveled and near tears. He had sprinted here, evident from the thin layer of sweat on the German boy’s forehead and how heavily he was breathing. Noa doubted that Kaiser was coming to him needing advice on training or improvising his skills.

No, Noa knew what Kaiser was here for already.

“Alright, how did you mess up this time, Kaiser?” The Frenchman asked exhaustedly. He had gotten used to this song-and-dance with his pupil a long time ago, ever since you had wormed your way into Kaiser’s heart. “Did you call (Y/n) a rude name? Or say something mean?”

Kaiser scrunched his pretty face up, stomping closer to Noa and sticking his bottom lip out. “No! I didn’t do anything like that. Noa, it’s so much more severe! I’d rather that they hate me and wish me dead than this! You don’t understand—they don’t care about me at all!!”

Noa bit back a snort. “Oh. And I thought you had done so much worse.”

Kaiser began frantically pacing around Noa’s office, agitatedly wringing his hands. “I knew you wouldn’t understand, you shitty master! Ugh, this is what I get, going to someone as stoic as you for advice with my love life! I don’t get it. Why doesn’t (Y/n) want me? I’m the whole package! I have people crawling, and I mean, fucking crawling all over me. That super hot actress everyone’s been talking about? She was begging me for a date last week! I’m popular and handsome and rich, and (Y/n) acts like I’m just some guy from across the street! I’m not some guy from across the street!”

“No, you aren’t-”

Kaiser shook his hands in the air. “I’m the Michael Kaiser! 300 million yen annual salary, master of Kaiser Impact, golden ace of Bastard Munchen, and God’s chosen emperor! How dare they not want me as much as I want them? Can’t they see how madly in love I am? That I’ve practically made a fool of myself at this point? Trying this hard to make them fall for me?”

Kaiser breathed heavily after having dumped all of that onto Noa, and the older man stared at Kaiser with singlehandedly the most unimpressed look on his face. The German athlete let out a strangled groan, the reality of his dejection sinking in properly, and Noa watched as Kaiser buried his face into his hands.

“First and foremost, Kaiser, you have to understand that people have different tastes. What might be appealing to actresses and celebrities and whoever else you attract might not be (Y/n)’s type,” Noa sighed, leaning back in his chair and massaging his head. “Some people avoid famous and popular people on purpose, because it’s an awful lot of work to be with someone under that much public scrutiny. It’s a big thing to ask of someone, regardless of their interest in you.”

“But I have the money! The body! The looks! Anyone would be flattered to have my interest! C’mon, Noa- Fame aside, I’m sexy as fuck!” Kaiser motioned vaguely at his body. “I’m sexy, right? Tell me I’m sexy, Noa!”

“Kaiser, I am not doing that.”

“You get what I’m trying to say!”

“Secondly,” Noa continued sternly. He didn’t particularly have the energy to flatter Kaiser that much more. “Have you actually tried wooing them in a… more appropriate way?”

Kaiser frowned deeply, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you mean in a more appropriate way? Shouldn’t they fall to my feet in utter worship of how wonderful I am? Shouldn’t they be sobbing over how grateful they are to me that I would give them even a crumb of my attention?”

Oh god. Noa wondered where he had gone wrong with Kaiser. The headache that had been ebbing in and out ever since the youth had barged into his office was only amplifying. “No, Kaiser. I mean the kind of courtship that most other people would try. Like compliments, gifts, maybe grabbing a coffee together. You have to earn someone’s love. It isn’t something that’s guaranteed nor is it something that’s owed.”

The German boy’s frown faded slightly, morphing into a small look of confusion. He repeated, “Earn? You mean… I have to try to get (Y/n)’s favor? They aren’t smitten with me already?”

“Probably not. If they haven’t already started a relationship with you yet, that usually means you haven’t won their heart.” The older athlete explained calmly. “Try the things I told you. Tell them that you like seeing them around. Maybe get them a small thing of flowers. Being kind to someone never hurts. Especially if they aren’t exactly… used to dealing with your bold personality. You have to start with baby steps before you can get to all the big passionate things you’re thinking of.”

Noa wondered for a split second if Kaiser would fume and brush his advice off as he usually did, but for once, the boy nodded along and silently mulled over his mentor’s words. Noa continued to watch him quietly, hoping inwardly that he had gotten through to the boy and that maybe he’d quit harassing you with what he could only imagine to be the most audacious courtship in the universe. You were truly a trooper to somehow keep up with all of Kaiser’s ridiculous antics.

“For once you’re of help, shitty master,” Kaiser hummed, and the German nodded to himself.. “I know a place I could order a few blue roses from… And there’s a really nice café not too far from the facility once we get down the mountain… Yeah, I can see it all coming together! Okay, I have a plan!”

“Ah, by the way,” Noa interrupted. Kaiser looked at the Frenchman, as if to silently ask him if there was anything else he needed to be lectured about. Noa cleared his throat, looking firmly at the young man. “Remember what I told you, no matter what (Y/n) does in response to your efforts. Love is earned, not owed. Even if you try to be kind to them and flirt with them differently, you aren’t entitled to their love. If they make it very clear that you aren’t interested, the right thing to do is back off and give them space. Do you understand?”

“Of course I do,” Kaiser scoffed. “If they decide that they don’t want me… Then that’s their loss! I’ll use my indescribable charm to find someone better… Even though I don’t really think there’s anyone better than them.”

“Well, no matter what you do, I’m sure I’ll hear of it.” Noa chuckled softly as the young blond’s cheeks turned red as he started thinking about you, and Kaiser hid his pink face behind his hands. Kaiser turned on his heel, straightening his back and puffing his chest out, clearly determined to enact Noa’s heartfelt advice and to undoubtedly unleash upon you another wave of unrestrained romance.

Noa knew that Kaiser’s wails and screeches in his desperate attempts for your favor would be far from over, but if he could bit-by-bit place the boy on the correct path at wooing you over, then maybe all of Kaiser’s temper tantrums and 3 AM rants about how he is 100% confident that he’s going marry you someday would be worth it. If there was one thing that Kaiser was, it was incredibly stubborn about not letting things that he deemed as “his” slip away.

“Ah, one more thing, Kaiser-”

Kaiser stopped dead in his tracks, already halfway out of the room. “Yeah? What is it, shitty master?”

“Don’t fantasize about marriage just yet. I think it’s still way too early for you to be planning out a wedding with (Y/n) already…”

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #noel noa #x reader #my writing

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beardedjoel · 8 months

Text

closer | part twenty one

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au.

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: it's joel's birthday, and you've got one thing on your mind when you pay him a surprise visit, the first time you've seen each other in weeks. 10.6 k words. chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), soft!dom joel, grinding, unprotected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation / multiple orgasms, posessive! joel, tinitest of spit kinks (blink and you'll miss it) a/n: thanks for the patience amazing readers, this one feels like it took me ages to get posted, but i'm feeling good about how it turned out! i hope it lives up to what y'all were hoping for joel and reader! heheheh

Birthdays have never been Joel’s favorite, and the older he got, the less he looked forward to waking up another year older. He supposes that most people feel that way as they age, anyways, and tries not to pay it much mind. He wakes up that Friday, his birthday, wishing it was just any other day. But knowing Tommy, he’ll have something up his sleeve for today, and he groans internally and externally as he sits up and climbs out of bed. If this is what being forty three feels like - back aching, stiff knees, living without the girl he loves due to his own colossal stubbornness - he doesn’t want any part of it.

Grumbling to himself as he gets ready, taking a quick shower and running his hands through his wet hair to try and have some semblance of a good appearance, Joel vows to just try to just get through the day. He doesn’t fail to notice the way he’s checked his phone several times while he was getting ready, knowing the reason why is wishful hoping that you’ll text him. The only reason he could find to care about his birthday is if it was you recognizing it, he thinks with a growing twinge of sadness in his chest. Messaging you first seems like too much, like he’s asking for you to wish him a happy birthday, and the thought makes Joel instantly cringe, the long standing pit in his stomach falling deeper.

He’d just try to make it through the day, that was all, that was his motto right now. He found himself saying that more days than not recently, though. How many more days until he just couldn’t make it through the day, until this little motto lost all its meaning?

He sighs, deep in thought as he pulls up to work for the day, expecting the worst. If there’s even one party decoration in sight, Joel swears he just might wring Tommy’s neck. His day goes uneventfully for the most part, much to his surprise. While Tommy chose to spare him on the decorations, he did bring a chocolate sheet cake to their job site for everyone to enjoy, and Joel’s thankful it doesn’t have too much frill to it. Tommy just had to have them write on it, making sure to put his age and everything out there for the world to see - Happy 43rd Birthday Joel! He swears the numbers are bigger than anything else on the cake, and he can picture Tommy requesting that exact thing at whatever bakery counter he’d ordered this from.

Regardless of his sour mood, the cake tastes so good that Joel finds himself having a second slice, and he claps Tommy on the shoulder, thanking him for going through the trouble at the end of their workday.

“No problem, brother. Know I love ya. You ready to head out to Murray’s?” Tommy asks, and Joel gives him a curt nod.

Tommy had agreed to drive Joel to the bar after dropping the cake and Joel’s truck off - that way he could drink as much as he wanted and Tommy had convinced one of their site managers, Don, into being a designated driver for the night to take Joel home afterwards. Don had grumbled on, saying why couldn’t Tommy do it but he knew Tommy Miller was a drinker, and wouldn’t want to miss out on celebrating his brothers’ birthday in the only way he knew how - getting belligerently wasted.

Typically, Joel may have indulged just as much as Tommy on a night like this, especially with how much he was additionally hating his birthday this year compared to other years. If you’d told Joel this time last year he’d end up sitting with a broken, hurting heart on his next birthday, he probably would have scoffed at the idea. Joel just simply wasn’t feeling up for having more than a few beers tonight, ready to call it an early night and forget this day ever happened.

He was already sick of watching the door religiously, a man with one prayer uttered over and over in his head for you to walk through it any minute, glowing and radiant as always, here to cure everything that ailed him right now. As far-fetched as he knew the idea was, it ate away at the back of his mind throughout the entire few hours he spent there while he tried to not be completely horrible company to be around. At least everyone else seemed to be having a good time for his birthday, he thought with a scornful chuckle to himself, shaking his head a little bit.

When he finally convinces Don to take him home, Joel feels relief as his house comes into view. He wants to just change out of his clothes, put on some TV, and binge eat cake until he falls the fuck asleep in front of the screen and can move on from his birthday. Don seems to sense Joel’s increasingly self deprecating mood, and gives him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder, wishing him another happy birthday and telling him to get some rest.

Joel is focused now, so close to the safe, warm, comfort of his home and his little plan for the rest of his night that he fails to notice you sitting in the shadows on his porch until your voice squeaks out and nearly has him jumping out of his skin.

“Hey stranger… Happy birthday,” you say, and Joel hears your voice, so sweet and quiet, but can barely register it. You look like you’ve walked straight out a dream of his, even in the dark he can see your pretty eyes framed by your delicate eyelashes fluttering as you blink nervously, the way your dress is hugging in all the right places before it falls just around your knees. He feels like his breath is torn right out of his lungs, and he’s frozen right there, keys halfway in the lock, just looking at you. Your name slips quietly out of his lips as a question, almost unintentionally, and you straighten a little more in your seat at hearing it.

“Wh-what’re you doin’ here?” Joel asks, finally finding his voice.

“Waiting for you,” you say candidly, and Joel just blinks for a moment, looking at you.

“Hope it wasn’t long… I was at the bar.”

“I uh, I know,” you tell him, and Joel’s brow crinkles a little in confusion. “Tommy told me. Actually, he invited me…” Joel interrupts with an irritated scoff at Tommy, muttering “asshole” under his breath to his non-present brother.

“I’m sorry I didn’t go,” you say, giving him a small, lopsided smile. “I didn’t want to interrupt your nice evening with… well, me.”

Joel’s mind is spinning now, taking all of this information in. He’s still reeling from just seeing you after so long, looking just as perfect as always, and now he’s expected to have a conversation with you when he can barely think straight.

When he doesn’t respond for a few moments, shifting in place, you glance to the other wicker chair next to you and motion to it. “Want to sit with me?” you ask, giving him a hopeful smile, your eyes shining and slightly wet. Were you close to crying? Joel felt a pull in his chest at the sight of you like this.

“‘Course, sorry,” Joel replies, shaking his head a little bit to bring himself back. “Jus’ a little surprised to see ya.”

“Sorry, if it’s not a good time, I can go,” you say quickly, sitting impossibly close to the edge of the chair, ready to leave at a moment’s notice if necessary.

“No, no s’alright. Stay, sit back,” Joel says, waving you off and finally taking a seat next to you. You end up scooting back, getting a little more comfortable as you lean back in the chair and look over at Joel, a mixture of expectation and anxiousness written on your face.

“So… it’s your birthday,” you say with a teasing glint in your eyes, and Joel gives you a playful glare.

“Would seem that way, wouldn’t it,” Joel replies with an amused huff.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to Murray’s,” you apologize again, “I didn’t want to make it a weird thing, since we haven’t… y’know, seen each other in a while.”

“Oh…” Joel says, musing for a moment. “Yeah, makes sense. But you’re here, now.” Joel feels a smile pull at his lips as he dares to look a little closer at you, seeing the familiar features of yours that he loves so much up closer. It’s been far too long since he got to gaze at you like this, he thinks to himself.

“I am,” you say, returning his smile. “Had to wish you a happy birthday.”

“Could’ve jus’ called,” Joel teases, despite feeling beyond elated that you’d showed up on his porch tonight. “Glad you didn’t, but just hope you didn't go through too much trouble.”

“If I had just called…” you say, dragging your words out, “How could I give you this?” You nudge a box on the little table in between the two chairs you’re sitting on towards him, and it’s the first time Joel even noticed it between it being dark outside and his transfixion on your face. He smiles tentatively as he gathers the box into his hands, pulling it onto his lap and inspecting it. A bright, confetti pattern adorns the wrapping paper with a shining red bow on top. It’s neat, tidy, perfect - exactly the kind of wrapping job he’d expect from you with so much thoughtfulness put into it.

“This is… real nice,” Joel stutters out. “Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t even opened it,” you say with a chuckle. You seem nervous - Joel clocks your hands moving around anxiously in your lap, a telltale sign that you’re thinking too much.

“Either way, even if it’s total crap in here, it looks great,” Joel says with a light laugh, one you return, and he can see your tension easing. Joel lets his fingers tuck under the flaps of the paper as he tears it open, revealing a small, wooden box. He lets his hand run along the outside, a quizzical look on his face as he inspects it.

“Open it already, you’re killing me,” you blurt out playfully, your hand going to your mouth to absentmindedly chew on a nail.

“Alright, alright, hold your horses,” Joel says, his eyes brightening with delight at the situation. He’s still not entirely sure any of this is real, but he savors the moment for another second before opening the wooden box perched on his lap.

Inside is an intricate, gorgeous set of hand tools for woodworking, neatly arranged in the box, all with their own little placeholders. Joel gapes at it, not even realizing how many times his mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to say. He can make out enough detail on everything in the dim porch light, but he’d bet these will be even more beautiful once he can get a good look at them.

“Don’t even know what to say, darlin’... this is…” Joel trails off, picking up one of the tools and inspecting it. “This is too much.”

“No, it’s not, Joel,” you defend immediately, stiffening in the chair. You’re absolutely ready to go to war with whatever Joel’s thoughts are telling him right now.

“Y-you shouldn’t have done all of this. Don’t deserve a gift like this from you.” He shakes his head slowly, still keeping his eyes on the box in his lap, not wanting to look at you and show all the vulnerability in his eyes.

“That’s just not true Joel, I wanted to buy this for you, show you how much you still mean to me. Close the box and look at the lid again.” Joel gives you a weary look in response but does as you ask, inspecting the lid closer, and that’s when he spots it.

“See? It has your initials, right there,” you say, reaching over to point it out to him, your hand brushing dangerously close to his, and Joel feels his heart skip slightly in his chest at the proximity.

“I see that…” Joel sighs out, finally meeting your gaze. “This is perfect, sweetheart. Thank you,” he says solemnly, and while you don’t misunderstand Joel’s reaction, you feel a twinge of sadness that he’s having a hard time accepting this gift.

“I just noticed you didn’t have a ton of tools yet when you showed me your woodworking table, and I saw all those little wooden carvings you were doing - animals and stuff, so I thought maybe you’d need this,” you explain anxiously, giving Joel a half smile.

“Yeah, y’are right about that, didn’t have everything I needed yet. Been havin’ a hard time… with the small stuff…” Joel’s voice is coming out quieter than he wants, but he’s overcome with emotion right now. He swipes his hand over his eyes, trying to get his bearings, but you keep a steady gaze on him, observing his passing emotions. Joel feels your hand on his suddenly, fingers soft and delicate as you reach over from your chair to touch him.

“I want you to have this,” you say, and Joel looks up to see your lips curved up softly, eyes gentle and looking like they’re staring right into his very soul. Your fingers wrap around his hand, still closed around the box on his lap, and the warmth from your hand alone is taking him to another place, having wished and pined for your touch for so long now.

“Alright, I believe ya, then. Thank you again, it’s really… somethin’,” Joel says, a little bit of confidence growing in his voice again, and it lifts a small weight off of your chest to hear it.

“You’re welcome, Joel,” you say, giving his fingers a squeeze before starting to pull your hand back towards yourself. Joel’s hand catches it before it even leaves the vicinity of his chair, and holds on again, gripping tightly around your fingers.

You two sit for what feels like an eternity, just his hand holding yours, both of your eyes full of questioning, possibility, and something… more.

“I have something else… for your birthday,” you manage to say just above a whisper, your voice low and saccharine as you shift forward in your seat, sliding to the edge and standing up. You still haven’t let go of Joel’s hand, using it to guide yourself the few steps over to his seat. You fluidly guide your legs on either side of his hips and slide onto him, settling yourself to straddle his lap. Where your hands join, you guide it to settle on your hip, and Joel follows suit with the other hand, gently touching you as if he’s afraid of breaking you.

Honestly, he was. He was so afraid of that possibility that he stiffened under your weight, panic rising up in his chest. He couldn’t deserve this, he couldn’t be allowed this happiness again.

You read his tensing body immediately, and snake a hand up to ghost along his cheek, brushing gently with the back of your hand. Joel lets out a sigh at the softness of your touch, the repressed longing built up in every cell of his body finding some escape in this one little puff of air exiting his lungs. His eyes flutter closed as you do it again, flipping your hand this time to rake the pads of your fingers down his cheek and through his beard.

“I-” Joel starts, a rasp to the little noise that breaks your heart. When you look into his eyes, you find nothing there but desolation in his warm brown, and you shake your head slightly.

“Shh,” you say soothingly, leaning forward slightly, “I know. I know.” Your head goes into the crook of his neck, your hot breath alone sending a shiver down his spine before you multiply it with a brush of your lips against his warm skin. Fluttering kisses along his neck, taking your time with each one, feeling and hearing Joel sigh deeply each time your lips touch him. When you reach his ear, taking the lobe into your mouth and giving it a gentle suck, Joel seems to melt a little before coming to his senses enough to speak up.

“You shouldn’t be… don’t deserve…” Joel murmurs. You pull back slightly, nuzzling your nose against the side of his cheek, taking the other side of his face into your palm, pressing yourself as close as you can. He catches the scent of your shampoo as your hair falls forward over the back of your head, right into his face. A scent he’d started to forget, nearly panicking the day he’d realized it was happening. A scent that he could have spent a lifetime searching for in drug and beauty store aisles, knowing it could never compare to this moment right here, when it was combined with you. Joel breathes in shakily, his erratic inhales and exhales showing just how close he is to breaking down.

“I want you, more than just this. I want you, Joel,” you say, your confession laid bare. Joel’s heart thuds so loud he’s worried you can hear it clear as day as you two sit in a tense silence. You hold yourself against him with baited breath, now just left to wait for his response.

“You mean…” Joel starts, afraid to dare the question to leave his tongue for fear of your answer.

You nod into him. “Yes,” you breathe. “Can we… try again? I’m ready, if you want it still.” You keep your voice low, vibrating right against his ear, and Joel lets another shudder wrack his body. He feels impossibly taut, like his muscles could snap at any moment, like he could fully break. But when he hears your words, he feels an instant release, the breaking of a thread that had been pulling, pulling, pulling, these last few months, slowly choking the life out of him. It was gone now. His chest nearly ached with the sudden lightness, and he fought the urge to clutch at it, not wanting to let go of where he held your hips even for a second.

“If I want it? If I want it…?” Joel echoes in disbelief. His arms slide around to your back, folding you deeper into his embrace and he chokes back a sob. “All I’ve ever wanted… right here,” he says, tugging you even closer, impossibly close, so that you’re nearly melding together into the same person.

“Joel…” you manage to say, choked up with your own tears now. You could never express just how right everything feels at this moment, being back in Joel’s arms, being so sure of it when you’d been riddled with every worry and anxiety about this exact moment for weeks. You knew that you’d made the right decision, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind.

“I got you, I got you, sweetheart,” Joel says, his hand now gripping the back of your head as you hang your head onto his shoulder, burying into his neck and taking in his scent with a shaky breath, quickly blinking away your tears.

You push back against his hand, bringing yourself to eye level with him and peering into his eyes for what feels like the first time all over again. The emotion swirling there is nearly unreadable - a mixture of joy, care, wonder, and lust, and it’s all being directed at you, nearly taking your breath away. Before you can think, your lips crash into his, hard at first but turning delicate quickly, wanting to really feel this moment and the weight it has for you. Joel returns your passionate, slow kisses, his tongue begging entry into your mouth nearly immediately, and you let him, your tongues dancing together in the most beautiful way as you savor each other.

Your hips move with a mind of their own, slowly pushing forward onto Joel and back again, starting a steady grind on his lap. Joel groans so loudly you nearly jump, and you find a small moan escaping your lips when you continue going back in for more, more, more from him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs quietly into your mouth as you brush over the now obvious hard bulge in his jeans with your warm heat. You intensify the way you’re kissing him now, wrapping your fingers tightly around the back of his neck and hooking them deeply into the dark curls lying there, tugging enough to elicit another little noise from Joel, more desperate this time.

He uses the opportunity to pull back slightly, his heavy breathing mingling with your own.

“Are you su-“ Joel starts, but you cut him off, not even wanting him to finish the question for the fact that he’d be harboring any thoughts that you have doubts about this.

“I’m sure,” you say with conviction, locking your eyes on his again. His eyes seem to harden with determination then, nearly going a shade darker in the dim lighting of the porch. Joel lips find yours again and he devours you, practically stealing your breath with the ferocity of it. His hands slide to your ass, gripping it tightly and bunching the thin fabric of your dress in his hands before he pushes on you, forcing you forward to grind on him again. You let out a little whimper at his forcefulness, having missed the way his hands so perfectly guide you and show you exactly what you need. How he knows exactly what you need every time may always remain a mystery to you, but you’re not one to question perfection.

You continue your steady movements on top of him, letting Joel push you forward each time, his jeans beginning to rub a perfect rhythm on your aching pussy. It’s nearly too much already, too much Joel after being away from this bliss for too long, and you break off your kiss just to bury your head in his shoulder, mewling quietly next to his ear as you quicken your pace on his lap.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby, fuck…” Joel breathes out, already completely undone by the way you two are moving together as he starts grinding his hips back into you. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

You can feel your heart beating out of your chest, nervous for some reason as you decide you want more, to move things along with him. You think you’ll combust soon if you two keep up only making out like a couple of teenagers. While it feels amazing to be reunited, you feel the need to show Joel just how serious you are about what you’ve told him.

Your hand shakes a little as you reach between the two of you to grab at Joel’s belt, swiftly undoing it amid many approving sounds from Joel as his lips attach themselves to your neck, kissing along the length of it and up to your face, covering as many spots as he possibly can with an undying eagerness to taste you on his lips.

Joel lets out a hiss when your hand reaches inside of his jeans, your fingers brushing along the soft fabric of his briefs, tracing the hard length of him inside.

“Is this okay?” you quietly rasp, and Joel’s approval stretches from his little smile to his eyes as he nods.

“Gonna make me crazy already, baby, the way you’re touchin’ me,” he says as you continue your movement along his shaft and wrap your hand tighter for a quick moment before sliding your hand inside of his briefs. The warmth of his skin blazes onto your hand as he throbs beneath you with your light strokes. Joel hums pleasantly, his eyes glazing over with need when you dare to peek into them. His head nearly lolls back onto the chair with a little groan when your finger swipes the head of his cock, feeling the wetness of his precum before you swirl it around the tip of his cock with your thumb.

Your entire body feels on fire, warm from the inside out as your core twists deep inside with need, the desire to feel him inside of you reaching a dangerous territory of necessity for you.

“Joel…” you coo as your cunt aches so sweetly for him, more than ready for him to completely own it again. You wrap a hand around his cock, fingers feeling so small around his girth that it makes your mouth water with anticipation for what’s to come.

“I know, baby,” Joel responds as you pull his cock out of his jeans, freeing the length of him and you gasp a little at the remembrance of the full size of him, already finding yourself picturing it being thrusted deep inside of you. Joel smirks at the starry-eyed look on your face as you take him in again and places his hands on your thighs, sliding your dress up higher.

“Missed my big fuckin’ cock, didn’t you?” Joel asks, so cocky and sure of himself that it sends another wave of desire straight to your clit and you can only find yourself nodding. “‘Course you did,” Joel adds on when he sees your speechless, practically drooling response to his question. Joel’s hand has been steadily moving your dress higher until his hands slide right to your ass, playing with the fabric of your panties, tracing his fingers along the lace.

Your hips lurch forward with anticipation, and you bring your lips down to Joel’s again, kissing him with pent up passion as one of his hands comes forward to cup your cunt, finding it desperately soaked for him, and he tuts into the kiss as if he can’t believe what he’s feeling. You push into his hand, your clit eager for any kind of movement on it, and Joel obliges, letting you grind onto his palm through your underwear for a few moments

“Need to see this pretty little thing,” Joel murmurs breathlessly, and you nod feverishly in agreement.

“Just fuckin’ rip them off, Joel,” you tell him, your lips barely leaving his to utter the words, and Joel growls deep in his throat at your eagerness, his fingers wrapping around the side of your panties to tear at them. You hear the splitting of seams as the fabric comes apart with a swift tug from Joel. It makes you feel impossibly feral that his strong hands made such quick work of the fabric that you can't help the moan that escapes you as you feel your panties fall away, completely ruined as Joel pulls them out from between you and tosses them to the ground, his lips never coming apart from yours.

You lift your hips up, giving Joel the opportunity to slide his cock between your legs, and you moan immediately at the way he feels against your slick folds. He grabs the base of his cock with one hand, and your ass with the other, guiding himself to rub back and forth against you until you’re breathing so erratically that you have to stop kissing Joel for fear you won’t be able to catch your breath. He increases the pace, and every time his plump head presses and brushes against your clit you feel the build up tighten in your core even more until you’re ready to burst, the tension reaching a high as you nearly choke on your words.

“I’m gonna… Joel… fuck, I’m oh -“

Your hips roll and spasm down onto his cock, and he keeps up the pace, brushing his head quickly over your pulsing clit in rapid motions as you ride out your orgasm. Your head buries into his chest, covering up your moans of his name as you yell it out into his shirt with a hand clutching tightly to the fabric.

“Good, so good, baby, yeah, just ride it out f’me,” Joel praises, stroking the back of your head, “Come all over this cock, f-fuck…”

You whimper and slump into him a little to catch your breath and come down, but the feeling of his soaked cock still pressing against your folds sets you off all over again, and you need more.

“Inside me… Joel… fuck….”

“C-can’t wait much longer either,” he says, uncharacteristically shaken, and he vibrates slightly with the effort of holding back, but you roll your hips onto his cock as he slides up your seam again, and then surprises you by pushing himself in, the head of his cock bursting into your entrance. You gasp at the intrusion initially, but sigh with relief at the feeling of him slowly, deliciously filling you up inch by inch, stretching you practically beyond your means until you’re completely full of him. You can’t help the warm feeling that spreads through you that this is what you were meant for, exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“Fuck,” Joel grits out, completely sheathed inside of you, feeling you squeeze him as you shift your hips to adjust to the fullness. “Just want to feel you for a second,” he says. “Missed this so much.”

Joel’s hands go back to gripping your hips tightly, not allowing any movement as he just feels you around his length, but you squirm in his grasp, making his cock push against your walls. You let out a whimpering sound at the feeling, and Joel bites the inside of his lip, barely able to contain himself between the small movements and sounds you’re making as you squirm and leak all over his cock, your arousal dripping down onto his jeans. You grip his shoulders for some leverage to begin moving as much as you can, and one of Joel’s hands frees your hip up to come grab your chin, pulling it tightly between his fingers as he forces you to look at him.

“Please…” you beg quietly, the throbbing, aching mess between your legs taking over any and all thoughts you have.

“You lookin’ for me to make you fuckin’ scream right here on this porch, are ya? Can’t wait until we’re inside?”

You shake your head with panting breaths from the exertion of trying to break out of Joel’s grasp to bounce your hips and feel him moving inside of you.

“Good,” Joel says, a devious smirk on his face, “‘Cause I can’t either.” With his words he pushes his hips up into you, affording him that tiny bit of extra space inside of you and you groan before he pulls his hips back, lifting yours at the same time before repeating the motion, slamming back into you hard and deep.

You cry out loudly, feeling him push against every part inside of you imaginable - have you always felt him this much, or is it just because you’d been deprived from the pure pleasure of Joel that it feels like so much more now?

You start returning his movements with equal vigor, your bodies ferociously coming together as the chair creaks underneath your bodies with the harsh movement.

“Gonna break this damn chair if we keep it up,” Joel says with a chuckle, lightening his movements only slightly.

“So what?” you manage to reply through stunted breaths as you slam yourself down onto Joel over and over.

“Need to fuck you properly anyways, darlin’, c’mere.” Joel’s hands cup underneath your thighs, urging you up off his lap as you help him lift you, wrapping your arms around his neck. You bury your face there, not wanting even a moment to go to waste as your lips find his neck again and suck hard. Joel yelps quietly as he moves you to the banister of his porch, perching you on the edge of it, and you grip even more tightly onto his back, feeling your balance completely off on the thin slab of wood underneath your ass.

“This is what you call proper?” You laugh, and Joel looks at you with a smirk before diving back in to kiss you, slowly grinding his hips into you now with nearly infuriating movements. You moan at the feel of every inch of him dragging out of you before pushing back in. You clench around him as your body shakes in his grip, unable to control the whimpering that escapes your lips.

“Y’seem to be enjoying it,” Joel retorts, and you’re too lost in the feeling of his cock to even conjure up a snarky response. “You want it faster though, don’t ya? I know how my angel likes to take my cock,” Joel rasps eagerly, and you groan as you nod your head, begging for more of him.

When he starts thrusting into you faster and harder, the banister rocks under the weight of it, but you can’t find it in you to care. Even if it all came crashing down and you two fell to the ground with it, you doubt either of you’d stop fucking the other with the way you’re both desperately panting now as Joel’s hips snap into yours repeatedly.

Your legs slide higher up Joel’s back, your ankles hooking together around him, trusting his arms completely to hold you up from falling off the porch railing. When your hips angle enough for Joel to get deeper, you moan as he presses against the spongy part inside of you that makes you absolutely crazy for him, and he smirks as he sees your eyes flutter with each new brush against the spot. You whine out his name, and Joel tucks in closer and kisses you in response.

“That good, baby?” he whispers gently, a stark contrast to the way he’s absolutely ravaging your body right now for anyone walking by to see. You’re grateful it’s late enough that it’s unlikely, but even then, you can't be bothered by the thought with the way Joel feels inside of you right now.

“So good,” you whimper in response, barely able to form words as your core ignites again, twisting in anticipation of another high. “You feel perfect.”

“That’s cause this pussy was made to take me, made to take this cock, baby, fuck…” Joel says, grunting as he thrusts into you. “Can feel you baby, you’re so close, give me another one, sweet girl,” Joel murmurs, pressing as flush to you as he can get. The sudden change gives some stimulation on your clit from the soft, dark curls above his cock, and combined with another brush against your g-spot, you’re losing a grip on reality so quickly you almost can’t keep up.

“Joel… Joel… harder,” you cry out, desperate for your climax to burst out of you, to claw its way out from the tingling pit now formed right where Joel’s cock is pressing deep inside of you. He obeys, thrusting into at an alarming rate, your legs helping his speed as you press them into him with every inward thrust, matching his rhythm.

You moan out long and low, the pleasure too much to take as the pressure builds to a point you nearly can’t take it anymore before you’re finally pushed over the edge by Joel biting into your neck. You hadn’t even noticed his head move down to do it, so lost in your own ecstasy, but the sensation of the pain with pleasure is enough to send you careening straight into your orgasm, practically screaming and sobbing with the intensity of it. Your slickness pours out onto Joel’s cock and he grunts and mumbles into your neck at the feeling before you feel the familiar sensation of you squirting, knowing the mess you’re making right now must be catastrophic between that and how hard you’d came.

Joel seems intent on adding onto it, at the tail end of your climax as your cunt squeezes his cock, he releases with a long, loud grunt, cursing under his breath as he fucks into your cunt a few more times and spills himself into you. Ropes of his cum coat your walls, the warmth filling you nearly sending you over the edge another time in the midst of your oversensitivity. You feel tears rolling down your cheeks from the comedown of such an intense moment with him, feeling so fulfilled and grateful to be his.

Joel sits for a long moment, his cock buried deep inside of you still, holding everything in that’s threatening to leak out around him. He pulls back from your shoulder and sees the few stray tears and smiles gently before kissing your cheeks, lapping them up in the process. When he does pull out, it’s then that you notice just how much of a depraved, wet, mess you two had made together. Joel can see and feel the mess between your legs and he tuts, half-impressed and half-teasing before helping you off the banister and onto your shaky legs.

“Fuckin’ messy girl for me, ain’t ya?“ Joel cocks an eyebrow at you.

You find yourself shying under his gaze, something that hasn’t happened for a long while now, and it feels refreshing in a way, almost like you two really are starting new. Joel wraps his arms around you after tucking himself back in, smoothing your dress down your backside for you.

“S’okay, just how I like you, my messy little thing,” he coos, pinching your cheek quickly, and you giggle, pressing yourself into his chest, just letting him hold you.

“You comin’ inside?” he asks, and you can hear the hesitation in his voice, like he truly believes you may not want to spend any more time with him, that you’ll regret what you two did any second.

“Thought you’d never ask,” you tease him, hoping to lighten his seemingly aching heart a bit and Joel smiles brightly in response.

“Good, ‘cause I’m nowhere near done with you yet,” he replies, meeting your lips for a long, deep kiss. Unbelievably, you feel a swirl of desire crop up in your belly at the sensation, his perfectly plump lips giving in to yours so delicately but so deeply, and you let out a little moan. Joel pulls away, chuckling. “Sounds like neither are you,” he adds on, looking at you expectantly.

“C’mon, let’s go cowboy,” you say, grabbing his hand to walk to the door together.

“Cowboy, huh? That’s new,” Joel comments with a questioning brow.

“Trying something out,” you tell him with a shrug, grinning, and Joel laughs as he unlocks his front door and leads you inside. The second the door shuts behind you, you find Joel on top of you again, his tall frame crowding over you and his hands on your hips, quickly roaming over your back, ass, shoulders, anywhere he can touch as he takes you in, holding you close to him. His head dips down to breathe in your scent again, getting completely lost in it. You shudder under the feeling of his breath near your ear, hot and needy right on the sensitive skin there.

“Sorry, sweetheart, jus’ can’t help myself right now. Fuckin’ missed bein’ able to hold you like this, touch you anytime I want,” Joel confesses, still not letting up the way his hands are moving, landing on your ass to knead the plush globes there.

“Missed it too,” you breathe out, not minding one bit the things he’s apologizing for, finding your body melting into his again.

“How many times you think I can make you come before I’m ready for ya again?” Joel asks next to your ear, one of his hands gliding to the front of your body and slipping under your dress, immediately going right between your legs. You’re still soaked, remnants of your time outside all over you, your pussy feeling fucked out but still managing to respond to his touch. He slides a finger onto your inner thigh, where his cum has been steadily starting to drip down, gathering it onto his fingers and dragging it upwards towards your cunt. He swipes it through your seam, gathering some of your own slickness and then stuffing all of it back inside of your ravaged hole, pushing his fingers as far as they’ll go.

“Fuck…” you whimper, arching your back. Joel’s frame pushes against you until your back is pressed into the door behind you, completely boxing you in with his body. His fingers start to work circles on your clit while the other hand comes up to palm your breast gently, rubbing it through the fabric.

“So fuckin’ pretty…” Joel murmurs, sliding a strap of your dress down your shoulder, hoping to reveal more of your skin to him. He seems to change his mind halfway through, pulling both of his hands off of you to grip at the bottom of your dress and pull upwards, lifting it off of you, leaving you standing naked before him. You tremble slightly at the feeling of being so exposed with him again, and the air conditioning of his house sending cool air dancing over your now goosebumped skin.

Joel takes you in, his eyes roaming over your body, temptation screaming in his blown out pupils. You writhe under his gaze slightly, desperate for him to return to touching you again, but he continues to take several long moments of looking at you before gently brushing a finger up your arm. You shiver more violently now, and Joel’s hand grazes inwards, finally landing at your nipple, pinching the taut bud and pulling hard on it. You cry out, back arching against the door as your knees begin to shake a little.

“God, baby, said you were pretty, but this is fuckin’ beautiful. Fuckin’ divine, lookin’ at you like this,” Joel says, shaking his head, entranced by watching his fingers pinch and roll your hard nipples.

“Joel… please,” you whine out, your thighs clamping together desperately, feeling wetness and heat pooling between your legs again.

“Tell me, sweetheart, what d’ya need…?”

“Touch my clit, Joel.”

“All you had to do was use your words.” He grins, obliging you by resuming the circles on your clit, more languidly this time as he keeps his other hand playing mercilessly with your pink buds. It’s no surprise when the familiar swelling of pleasure rapidly builds deep inside of you at Joel’s touch, your breathing labored as you shut your eyes and lean your head back on the door, moaning quietly.

“Eyes on me, baby, need ya to look at me when you come,” Joel says, voice soft and sweet, with his sudden grip on your chin to tilt your head back down anything but. His fingers grab tightly, greedily, at your delicate chin, holding your head in place as your eyes threaten to roll back at the way his fingers are working between your legs, tight, perfect circles being rubbed on your clit.

“Fuck, Joel, I-I’m coming,” you cry out, followed by several loud, staccato moans that drag out into long whimpers as you buck down onto his hand, body shaking and impossibly taut as you come. Stars invade your vision before it goes fully white, pleasure rocking what feels like every cell in your body. All you’re aware of for those few blissful moments are the way Joel’s fingers move, riding you through the climax, and how his name spills off your lips over and over, begging him for something you’re not even sure of yourself.

Throughout all of it, you try to keep your eyes locked on Joel’s, but can’t help it when your eyes squeeze shut in the high. When you finally peek them open, Joel looks at you with a satisfied sigh, his tight hold on your chin turning into a softer, gentler stroking leading up to your cheek. He brushes the hair away on your forehead that’s now stuck there with the small sheen of sweat you’d worked up and tucks it behind you ear, his lips turning up into a small smile.

He kisses you, his lips barely fluttering against yours in a soft meeting of your lips, one that isn’t meant to lead anywhere further. Just soft, loving presses over and over to your lips, and you’re finally coming out of your fucked our haze to be able to return them properly.

“Lemme take you to bed, hm?” Joel says, pressing his forehead to yours. You nod tiredly, the pleasurable post-orgasm haze taking over your brain.

“Only if you carry me.”

Joel crouches to press his hands underneath your ass, urging you up by the thighs, so you grip his shoulders and let him lift you, wrapping your legs around his thick middle and supporting yourself around his neck. Joel can hardly think straight, with the whole of your bare skin pressed against him, clinging on tightly like he’s the only thing that matters in the entire world right now. He can feel the heat of you through his clothing, wishing with a fuzzy head that there wasn’t anything between the two of you, that he could envelop you in his own heat, that they could mingle endlessly together. He could hardly wait to get you in his bedroom and make that exact desire of his come true.

When Joel sets you on the edge of his bed, he stands in front of you, unbuttoning his shirt slowly and intently, watching you to see your eyes lighting up as he works at the buttons. You stand up and grasp his hands gently, moving them to the side to take over, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing each new bit of skin that’s revealed on his chest. Joel finally shrugs the plaid shirt off and onto the floor, and you get to work on his jeans, pulling his belt off and through all of the loops in a slow, dragging movement. Joel chuckles a heady laugh at the way you’re so perfectly teasing him right now before you unzip his jeans and pull everything down, leaving him standing just as naked as you are.

“C-can I jus’ hold you like this?” Joel asks tentatively, despite his cock being at full attention once again from the way you’d undressed him. You can’t help but smile when Joel shows this more shy side of himself and you give him a nod, pulling away to crawl onto the bed and lay down. Neither of you have turned on any lights in the room, instead letting the moonlight spill in through the front window and illuminate enough that it casts a low, shimmering light through the room.

Joel slides in right next to you, wrapping his toned arms around you immediately, pulling you flush with his body and you wrap one leg over top of him, one hand placed flat on his chest, rubbing along the dusting of salt and pepper hair there. You both sigh contentedly at the feel of the other’s skin, so warm and soothing after spending all that time apart. The silence is comfortable, despite the both of you knowing there are mountains of things to discuss between the two of you.

Joel clears his throat, a hand rubbing up and down your forearm that rests along his torso. “Not one to ruin a perfect moment like this, but I gotta ask…” he starts, swallowing nervously. “Why’d you decide to come tonight? What… changed your mind?”

You blink a few times, biting the inside of your lip, trying to compile everything you’d been thinking recently for Joel.

“I just… did. I saw you realize that you’d made a mistake, and how much it hurt both of us. I was scared to trust you again, but you never left my side once you realized what you wanted. I’ve never stopped… wanting it, Joel. Wanting you.”

“I never did neither, darlin’. Swear it,” Joel says quietly, nuzzling his mouth onto the top of your head, breathing you in. “Thought I was savin’ you from me. Thought I couldn’t be worth it.”

“You’ve always been worth it, Joel. All the shit that happened, worrying about my parents, people judging us, job offers, any of it. I just want to be happy with you, I promise.”

“I see that now, honey, how fuckin’ selfish I actually was. ‘M so sorry,” he replies, a slight crack to his voice as he keeps it quiet.

“I know you are, you’ve shown me and said it so many times now. Thank you for not giving up,” you tell him sincerely, rubbing absentminded circles on his chest.

Joel huffs, shaking your head on his shoulder a bit. “Should be thankin’ you for that, darlin’, not the other way around. Y’should’ve given up on an old man like me.”

“Never, Joel,” you say. “Even if you are an old man.”

“Hey, now,” Joel scolds you lightly. “Only okay when I say it.”

You both break into a quick laughter, and you shift and tilt your head up, offering your lips to his, and he takes it, leaning his head slightly to meet your lips with his for a chaste kiss.

“Fine. You’re so youthful, don’t even look a day over twenty five, I swear,” you say, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Okay, now you’re jus’ bein’ mean,” Joel says with a frown.

“Thirty?”

“Mmm, better.” Joel chuckles, and you pull yourself tighter to him, your warm heat nearing dangerously close to his cock. Your hand traces down his chest, fingers gently grazing the base of his length now.

“Missed this so much. Missed you,” you say quietly, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, feeling him stiffen, his cock hardening from semi-soft to throbbing in just a few moments of you toying with it.

“Y’have no idea…” Joel replies breathlessly, his hips jutting up into your hand slightly as it roams over his length.

“Wanna just feel you… please…” you whimper, feeling precum already gathering at his tip, swiping it onto your finger and into your mouth, sucking the slightly salty, tangy fluid completely clean before putting your hand back to his cock.

Joel groans out at the entire interaction, his eyes blazing with heat. “God, sweetheart, want to fuckin’ wreck your little pussy, but…” He winces in embarrassment. “My fuckin’ back… from what we did outside. Went a little too hard.” You try to stifle your smile, having just argued over him being an old man, but you reign it in.

“That’s okay, baby. I can ride you just as hard,” you say with quirked eyebrows. Joel chuckles but splays his palms in the air quickly, as if to say be my guest.

You shift your weight, straddling Joel and placing your already dripping pussy above his cock, notching him at your entrance. You lean down to kiss him and with the same motion, you press your hips down, letting his cock slide inside effortlessly. You’ve been perpetually wet just being in his presence, and from the way you’ve been warmed up over and over tonight, he’s completely sheathed in you before you even know it.

You groan at the fullness from this angle, and Joel does the same, his eyes fluttering slightly as he shifts underneath you. He winces slightly from his back hurting but relaxes his tensing body as you start to bounce your hips gently, testing the waters. Joel smiles up at you, his features melting into pleasure as you basically start jerking him off with your cunt, letting him lay back and enjoy the sensations.

Shit, you think suddenly. You should tell Joel about Dylan. You don’t know why it crosses your mind right in this perfect moment, when you’re both so incandescently happy to just be together, but the sudden guilt hits you right in the gut. You know you aren’t in the wrong, but you want to be honest with Joel, not have anything between the two of you if you’re going to start over like this.

You slow your movement, pressing your lips together, and Joel looks at you quizzically, noticing the change in your expression.

“This might be the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever done to say this right now, but I have to tell you something,” you blurt out, and Joel’s eyebrows draw together, his eyes slightly widening in concern.

He rubs your lower back, sensing your hesitation. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says softly.

“When… we…w-weren’t talking, I slept with someone. It was just once, it was not even… it wasn’t anything, but I did do it. When I was drunk. And it wasn’t even any g -” you ramble breathlessly, still moving yourself up and down on Joel’s cock. He tightly grasps your hips, pulling you down, hips flush with his, stopping your movements.

“Woah, woah, relax, relax, baby. Okay, it’s okay,” he says.

“It is?” you ask, wide eyed.

“Don’t exactly love it, y’know how I feel about you bein’ mine and only mine, but I can’t say I blame ya. Left you high and dry out there.”

“Right…” you say quietly, still incredulous that Joel isn’t completely freaking out right now from this news.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill whoever it is, but ‘sides that,” Joel chuckles genially, “Don’t feel bad, baby. Jus’ makes me wanna fuck you even fuckin’ harder, make you forget that even happened.” He lets a small growl slip from deep in his throat, clutching onto the plush skin of your hips and ass, his long fingers spreading along both areas and kneading.

You start to grind your hips a little again, lifting slightly up and back down, beginning a steady rhythm on him.

“Oh really? Think you could?” you ask low and teasingly. “Honestly, it wasn’t any good, if that helps.”

“No? Not any good, huh?” Joel grunts a little as he lifts his hips up into you, unable to help himself despite his back aching and screaming at him.

You shake your head, pursing your lips as you continue your slow pace on top of him. “Mm-mm. Didn’t even get me off…” You run a hand down Joel’s chest slowly. “Shame, really, that no other man could ever live up to you.”

“Fuck…” Joel curses under his breath. “Gonna give a man an ego, sayin’ things like that.” Joel pauses, just enjoying the way you’re gyrating on his cock for a few moments. His eyes snap open again and he looks at you with a furrowed brow. “Didn’t get you off at all?”

You shake your head slowly and deliberately as you ride him.

“Fuck, need to do good to you tonight, then, baby,” he says, his voice slightly strained from the emotions he’s feeling. It’s a mixture of desperation, sadness, and fucking anger at what happened. How anyone could get a chance to be with you, to taste and fuck that sweet pussy of yours and not even give you what you deserved, it made Joel feel the feral side of him clawing it’s way out. His hand reaches up, cupping the side of your face before sliding around to the back of your head and pushing your head down so that it’s close to his mouth, forehead practically resting on his shoulder. He holds your hair tightly in his grip, letting his lips brush against the skin of your ear.

“Whatever you need to do to me, I’m yours… I want you to fuckin’ come so hard you never come back down, that you can’t never think of another man again ‘sides me. Want your fuckin’ knees shakin’, cunt drippin’, fuckin’ soaked f’me, squeezin my cock so hard, so full you can’t even breathe…” Joel mutters out, sending your entire body shivering and convulsing with the combination of his words and the vibration of his deep rasp right next to your ear.

You spasm your hips down onto him, pussy clenching at his words and feeling his cock throbbing and pulsing inside of you. “F-fuck…” you whimper, nearly reaching your high from his words alone. You pull your head back slightly with Joel’s permission, his tight grasp on your hair lightening up, and smirk down at him.

“Y’sure you can do that, old man? With your bad back and everything?” Your lips press together so tightly to repress your laughter that you feel like you’re going to pop. You begin to ride him faster as you speak, feeling all of you bouncing, your tits dancing appealingly right in his face. Joel lifts his head, takes one into his mouth and sucks harder than he ever has, and you gasp loudly, unable to pull away. He lets it go with a small pop and looks up at you, darkness flashing in his eyes.

“Gonna fuckin’ wish you never said that,” Joel states before he sits up, groaning quickly with the effort and then deciding its well worth it, grasps your back and flips you around, slamming you down into the bed with him. His entire weight is on you, straddling you, the movement from flipping pushing his cock so deep that you squeal out in both pain and pleasure. He ruts into you hard now, lifting both of your legs to his shoulders, putting you in a tight, cramped position where they’re trapped between your body and his now.

All you can feel is Joel, Joel, Joel - his cock pressing against your spongy part inside again, his sweat intermingling with yours, his ragged breaths as he pounds into you with no mercy. You cry out, tears stinging your eyes from how fucking deep he is, you think he’s hitting your cervix at this point and it’s a sensation you haven’t experienced before, but it’s tearing you up from the inside out how good it feels. You can’t do anything but whimper as Joel asserts himself over you, trying to make the words he whispered in your ear become a reality.

He leans even closer, the angle completely devastating you as a few tears slip free from where they’ve been brimming in your eyes. “Tell me how good I am to you, hm? Wanna hear you praise this fuckin’ cock,” Joel says, his voice so smooth and controlled for how hard he’s ravaging your body right now.

“So good, Joel, fuck… your c-cock… you’re so good to me.”

“Again,” he commands, turning his head to bite down onto one of your legs that are framing near his face. You whimper loudly, barely able to even think of the words to say, let alone speak them.

“N-never want another c-cock. Can only take y-yours, so good to me, so f-fuckin’ big and full, Joel.” Your face scrunches up slightly, a few more tears rolling down your cheeks as Joel snaps his hips into your over and over, your insides coiling with heat and everything good when he hits the perfect spots inside of you.

“That’s right,” he groans desperately, clearly as affected by your praise as you are his. Nearly effortlessly for his back hurting him, he pulls out of your cunt, leaving it squeezing at nothing. He quickly looks down at your fluttering, fucked out cunt and spits quickly in-between your legs before he turns your body belly down on the bed, your legs shaking as you bring them down and nearly melt into the mattress. You’re shaking, your knees and thighs completely quaking just as Joel had wanted, and you’re thankful for the break. Joel’s hands grasp either of your ass and lift it slightly off the bed, angling himself behind you and slamming right back into your cunt. You nearly scream, the stretch of him all over again nearly too much with how heightened everything feels.

“‘M I still so good for you, baby?” he asks. You can only nod, and breathe out a quiet, raspy “yes”, your face turned off the mattress to try to look back at him.

“Ready to come, angel? I can feel you, so fuckin’ tight, practically beggin’ for it, ain’t ya?” Joel says, his voice less controlled now, and you can tell he’s just as close as you are. He slides a hand between your body and the mattress, leaning himself closer, changing the angle of himself inside of you and it’s perfect, holy shit it’s perfect.

His finger finds your clit in a second, flicking and rubbing circles frantically as your body writhes and bounces into his thrusts. You moan over and over, his name, expletives, anything you can think of to finally reach your high. The tension low in your belly snaps, and you go off the edge, screaming Joel’s name along the way as your legs shake underneath him and your cunt tightens impossibly taut around him, fluttering and spasming. Joel curses, pushing in as deep as possible while he comes along with you, his vision going white as he grunts your name and claims you with his hot ropes of cum spilling inside of you. He relishes in the feeling, the way you take all of him in a moment like this, moaning louder as soon as you feel that he’s coming along with you.

You continue to tremble, trying to come down from the way Joel has just turned your world upside down. You should have known - when Joel says something, he means it, and the way you’d just went higher than the god damned heavens just now proves it.

You let out soft, whimpering sounds as you lay there, body completely slack and feeling unable to even lift your head until you regain some composure.

“Shit…” Joel murmurs, concerned, his body wrapping around yours in a second. “Y’okay, baby? You hurt?”

“N-no,” you croak out, trying to give him some semblance of a head shake. “Just… j-ust…”

“So fucked out f’me,” Joel teases, wiggling his eyebrows a bit as he feels the situation lighten. If you had the energy, you’d punch him on the arm, but you just groan in agreement. Joel laughs, nuzzling his nose onto your shoulder. “Just how I fuckin’ like it, means I did you like you deserve, sweetheart.”

“You can say that again… I mean, fuck, Joel.” You giggle a little bit, finally feeling your senses coming back to you as you try to roll over.

“Say the same to you, so perfect f’me tonight, baby. Promise I’ll take it slow next time. Give you all the sweet stuff,” Joel laughs at his own words and you roll your eyes.

“You’d better, I’m gonna barely be able to walk for days, swear to God,” you scoff.

“Jus’ means I get to take care of ya. My poor baby can’t even walk,” Joel clicks his tongue, “Cock jus’ too big f’ya?” he teases, and you let out a disapproving noise, trying to squirm away from him in irritation, but he holds you even tighter. “Jus’ admit it, s’okay honey. Not everyone can take it.” Joel says tauntingly, shrugging nonchalantly to add on to the teasing torture he’s lashing on you.

“You know I can take it, Miller. Fuckin’ better than anyone,” you snip back, trying to turn away from him still, but Joel manages to scoop your body into his, spooning you now, crossing his arms tightly over your chest.

“Damn fuckin’ right,” Joel admits, giving up the charade. He kisses the back of your head, trailing them down to your neck. “My perfect girl.”

“Yours,” you echo back, snuggling your body into his and feeling so at peace you could nearly cry. This is where you were meant to be, right here in Joel’s arms. Always.

taglist: @paleidiot@mumma-moonchild@soph55@chicville03@joelsversion@feliciab1990@fellinfromthetop@gossipgirl-03@sarap-77@blueseastorm@akah565 @pattwtf @scarlettthefierce

#some of the things i wrote here i will not be held accountable for i swear #i missed these two so much i needed them to have a lil bit of depraved sex #or a lot #anyways #fic: closer #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader

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