#but it was some kind of drugs i think because | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zweetpea · 2 days ago

Text

Mrs. "Wayne"

Part 2

Content warning: Swears, Arranged Marriage, murder (Not by Bruce because he doesn't kill), threats

This chapter is a bit shorter than the last but I think this is a sweet ended to this story. (For now... If I think of something to add to it I'll make a proper finale).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You awoke with a bag over your eyes, a rope around your wrists, and a killer headache.

Bruce ripped the bag off your head. “You’re lucky I have a no kill policy. But trust me when I say that if you’re going to wish I did.”

“Scary.” You mocked in a smooth and dull voice. “Does that work on all the drug addicted mental patients in spirit halloween costumes that you beat up?”

He grabbed your chin and pulled you forward a bit. “Don’t play with me, little girl.”

“Don’t call me little girl, old man. What do you want?” You asked boredly.

He glared at you. “I should be the one asking that.” He spat.

You looked at him anammused and unenthusiastically said, “I’d like to be let out of the chair.” He tips the chair back slightly over the edge of this cliff in the cave. “Okay! Okay! I want the divorce to be quiet! I won’t take a small settlement! In fact I won’t ask for any money or assets! I-! Um… I want a pony? WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY!!” You started to panic. There were a lot of things you could do, but surviving a 10-20 foot drop into a moat, while being tied up was not one of them.

He tips the chair back onto solid ground and grabs both of her shoulders. “You want a pony in exchange for your silence about the bat cave and my family?”

“Oh that’s what this is about?” The fear on your face dissipated. “I don’t really care about this.”

Bruce took a step back in shock. “What?”

“Yeah. This place is honestly amazing and I’m actually very impressed at what you do.” Your voice was genuine as you looked up at him.

He seemed skeptical. “You are?”

You smiled slightly. “Well, yeah! You fight 2 meta-humans, a bunch of psycho clown gymnasts, two guys in super suits, and just a bunch of other freaks every other week! Are you some kind of immortal being or something?” You geeked out a bit.

He looked at you surprised. “You know a lot about me.”

“Well, in retrospect, no offense but it’s kind of sad… and pathetic.” She looked at him sympathetically

He scoffs. “How?”

“You spent 14 years training to avenge your parents murder and you didn’t think to see a therapist?”

“Point taken.” He started to untie You. “So you promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Yeah. I’m not about to get dragged into this! Regardless of the truth behind our relationship, bad guys are going to come for me if I start blabbing about you guys. Not only that but the cops are going to hall me off to jail too if you get caught for vigilantism.”

“Oh… I didn’t think of that. I’m sorry…” He sits down on the cliffside with his head in his hands. “This whole thing has been a disaster.”

You sat down next to him. “Bruce?” You looked over curiously.

“Yeah?” He muttered.

You hesitated. “Why did you marry me?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Kid flash made a joke about my irresponsible love life and I guess I took it to heart.” He confessed somberly.

You patted his shoulder comfortingly. “All teenagers suck. It’s just growing pains.”

“I don’t like being bullied by an 8th grader.” He looked over in what you want to describe as a pout but that can’t be right. This is batman! Batman doesn’t pout! He broods!

“Imagine how Damian is going to be at that age.” You giggled. He growled and looked away. Oh my goodness. Batman was pouting. You burst out in laughter. “You are too special, Bruce.” You gave him a quick side hug and pulled yourself up. “Come on. Let’s go order take out and laugh at how stupid Villains are.”

He smiled at you slightly and pulled himself up as well. “Yeah… They are pretty stupid.”

“I mean it took me two months to find this place when they haven't come close in 2 decades!” She laughed and took his arm in hers.

“Well Condiment king found this place a decade ago. But no one’s heard from him since so the villains stopped trying.” Bruce smirked.

You looked up at him worriedly. “I thought you didn’t kill.”

“I don’t, but my ex-special forces of a butler does.” He closes up the door to the batcave.

“...oh…”

He kissed your forehead and ushered you out of the library. “Nothing you need to worry about. Now let’s go order some takeout!”

You two ordered some Chinese food and lounged on the couch watching whatever was popular on Wayneflix. Bruce ordered shrimp fried rice and egg rolls while you just got a little of whatever caught your eye.

You pulled a throw blanket over you both and ate straight from the take out containers. It was weird being so close to him.

“I thought you didn’t like me touching you.” He reminded you of what you’d said less than a few hours ago. Seems like he noticed it too.

You shrugged. “I don’t like you feeling me up but I don’t mind cuddling. I suppose I should get used to it considering the fact that you’re probably going to keep me under lock and key for the rest of my life.” You shuffled closer to him.

He was silent for a moment before he spoke in a reassuring tone: “It’s not forever. Just a little while. I need to be sure you don’t plan on running off to the alps of Switzerland or something.”

You rolled your eyes. “No! Don’t be ridiculous! …Still can’t believe that the world hasn’t figured out you’re Batman yet. It’s so obvious in retrospect! Is that just my hindsight bias showing?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s the fact that a few tabloids are still floating around the idea that Batman is some kryptonian pet that Superman brought with him that gained a high level of intelligence.” Bruce practically shovelled his portion of food down his throat.

“Pace yourself!” You scolded him. “And there’s no way anyone actually believes that.”

“Yeah well there’s also no concrete proof that links me to my alter ego.” Bruce pointed out in a playful tone.

“Yeah but… people don’t even float around the idea you're his sugar daddy-” You were interrupted by a certain tween.

“Father! Todd has informed me that he will be over shortly- Are you two cuddling?” Damian sounded repulsed by the idea.

You looked up at him. “Hey terror tot.” You greeted, flatly.

“Damian, I saved half my shrimp fried rice for you.” Bruce offered rather uncharacteristically warmly.

Damian turned away in a pout. “No thank you father. I hope you and your mistress have fun on your date.”

You interjected. “Firstly, super not the mistress. Secondly, it’s not like a date date so you can join us if you want. Thirdly, growing nestlings need to eat to build strength.”

Damian froze as Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes. “What did you just call me?” Damian's voice was mostly steady but there was undeniably a hint of fear.

“Damian, she knows about the bat cave.” Bruce calmed the boy.

“YOU SHOWED HER THE BAT CAVE!!” Damian screamed in shock and fury.

“Damian, compose yourself!” Bruce stood up. The two stared each other down from opposite sides of the couch.

“So are we abandoning movie night?” Your question went unanswered as Damian started ripping into Bruce about how irresponsible it was for him to show it off to “Impress her” (his words); and how hypocritical he was.

Bruce finally grabbed Damian’s shoulders and got him to quiet down. “She found the batcave.”

“A likely story.” Damian crossed his arms and grimaced at you.

“History of taxes, fifth shelf from the bottom, middle-right to the left of the big bay window in the library, dewey decimal number 336.20.”

“It took you two months to find the bat cave?” Damian raised an eyebrow at you.

You looked back at him. “In all honesty I just wanted to read something you guys hadn’t. Some books might be boring but it’s better to actually read the books to you rather than flaunt them, like some wannabe Jay Gatsby.”

Damian stood there in shock. “You’ve read The Great Gatsby?”

You scoffed. “Everyone had to read The Great Gatsby. I had a terrible teacher that basically told us Daisy was the victim throughout the Novel. Which I would understand if she was drawing that conclusion from synchronizing her with Fitzgerald’s actual wife Zelda but she wasn’t.” You paused the movie for a second. “The Great Gatsby is a weird novel when you actually understand the story of the people behind it. Fitzgerald is Gatsby and Zelda is Daisy. However the entire book portrays their relationship as a fantasy. Gatsby grows to regret it. He lusts for her beauty and wealth while Daisy almost comes off as superficial. The rich stay rich and the poor men who try to make a name for themselves are naive fools. It really paints a bad light on how he viewed his own wife.”

The two men looked at you in utter shock. “What’s hilariously sad is the fact that Fitzgerald based a lot of what he wrote around Zelda’s diary entries. Daisy is horribly depressed in her marriage, and she hates her husband. You’d think that Fitzgerald would realize how much his wife despised him and how unhappy he made her but he seemed oblivious to that fact.” You grabbed the container of shrimp fried rice and handed it to Damian. “So if you’ll excuse us, I'd like to get back to bonding with my husband so we don’t end up like Zelda and her vile husband.” You pulled Bruce back onto the couch and gave him what you had left of your take out.

“You don’t have to-” Bruce tried to protest and give you back your food.

“I assume you’ll be out late. You’ll need energy if you’re going to be staying out till dawn.”

“I just want to take a nap…” He mumbled and held you close like a child holding a plushie.”

You fixed the blanket over you both again and got comfy in his arms. “Get some rest Bruce. You need it.”

85 notes · View notes

misctf · 8 hours ago

Note

Hey there, I just have to say, I'm LOVING some of the work you've been doing, and wouldn't mind letting you alter me to your satisfaction. I'm 35, and desperate for another chance at youth. If you're able to work your magic, you can make me a submissive twink, a soccer jock, a sleek swimmer, whatever you heart desires, if I just get another go at life.

Another chance at youth? You wouldn’t be the first. At 35, you’ve noticed you don’t bounce back like you used to. Back hurts, your gut is more prominent, and the 9-5 desk job doesn’t fulfill you all too much. Sure, you’ve made attempts to “reset”. You’ve tried the latest fad diet, a few supplements, and a subscription workout plan that you truthfully don’t even follow. You even looked into some of those fancy new weight loss shots, but your doctor recommended lifestyle changes first. One night, as you eat chips and scroll through a fitness influencer’s myriad of thirst traps, an advertisement appears.

“Maximize your Potential.” You read, your eyes drawn to the cocky jock flexing their biceps, “A shot of pure ‘Potential’?” You chuckle, “What kind of stupid drug is that?” Your eyes widen when you see the cost, “No way, I’m not paying...” You sigh as you look at the bag of chips in your lap and your growing gut. Looking back at the ad, you notice the offer for a free consultation, “Fuck it...”

_____

While you spent your night learning more about ‘Potential’, a college student finished his last few reps for the night. Jason grunted, dropping the two heavy dumbbells with a thud. He grimaced when he noticed a grade notification appear on his phone.

“Fuck.” He used his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, revealing a set of perfectly sculpted abs, “Please...”

It was supposed to be easy. Everyone told him a business major was fuckin’ easy. At least easy enough so he could focus on the things that really mattered. College was supposed to be about living your best life: tailgates, frat parties, and hot girls. But now, there were talks he would be cut from the lacrosse team because of his grades. His frat even put him on probation, the frat president telling him he needed to focus more on his classes. And as he stared at the ‘56%’ he realized he just failed another class. He’d definitely be staying at least an extra year.

Jason quickly left the gym, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t take out more loans. He couldn’t afford to waste more time. Would he even get a job? What would his friends think? As he arrives back at his apartment, he grimaces at the stench of stale gym clothes and laundry.

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” He mumbles, falling into bed. He quietly scrolls through social media, determined to distract himself, when an ad pops up, “What’s this?” His eyes were immediately drawn to the lump sum payment, “Potential... looking for men in their 20s...” The gears were turning in his head, “I could make it on that. Pay off my loans, get my shit together.” And without a second thought, he signed up to get more info.

_______

It had been a few months since you saw that ad. Initially, nothing came of it. That night and the subsequent talks with Potential’s medical staff about donors, injections, and consents were nearly forgotten. So when you received a phone call telling you that a donor was found and you were to arrive at their medical spa by tomorrow, you were surprised. Even more surprised when you were driven to the airport by a limo and flew first class to their location.

You were greeted by their medical staff and given some standard medical paperwork. You were then escorted back to your room. You had assumed it would be a standard doctor’s room, but you were shocked by all the accommodations: a massage chair, drinks, a massive TV- they really were going all out to make you feel welcomed. And as you relaxed and made yourself comfortable, you felt a growing anticipation for what was to come.

_____

Meanwhile, Jason was left in a room of his own. He was in the midst of playing some videogames and enjoying the massage chair when one of the medical staff entered. Jason recognized the guy. For the past few months, he had been undergoing various tests and assessments of his physical fitness. It was only a few days ago he found out he would be accepted.

“Mr. Connors, we’re ready to begin.” He said, “Your recipient has paid in full, so you’ll see your portion in your account in 2-3 business days. Do you have any additional questions?”

Jason smirked, “Nice.” He stood up and stretched, “No man, I’m good.” Truth be told, his eyes had glazed over when the medical staff had explained this whole thing to him, “I just want to make sure the money’s all there.”

The medical professional nodded and Jason watched as they rolled in a large machine with Potential’s logo smeared all over it. There were several buttons and a few vials. He was instructed to relax and he leaned back in his chair, while a nurse inserted an IV into his muscular arm. He could feel his heart pounding now, some anxious thoughts filling his head. But as the warm hum of the machine filled the room, Jason felt tired. His eyes closing as he drifted to sleep.

_____

It was a few hours later when the medical staff entered your room, carrying a small syringe with a strange blue liquid in it. You could feel your heart pounding- this was it. The medical staff began explaining the contents. Something about a donor’s potential, their revolutionary tech, and the instantaneous results. You only focused on that- the instantaneous results. You watched as they dispensed the blue liquid into your arm, the room suddenly growing hot, your world spinning, and your consciousness fading.

_____

“Mr. Connors? Mr. Connors, can you hear us?” Jason grunted as his eyes slowly opened, his vision immediately greeted by two nurses, “Oh good you’re awake.”

“Ugh wh... where?” Jason grimaced at gravelly voice. But more bothersome was the strange heaviness he felt with simple motions. Even his joints sore, “I don’t...”

“It’s totally normal Mr. Connors.” They said, “We’re all done. Just take some time and relax for as long as you need. You might find you don’t bounce back like you used to.”

He watched through groggy eyes as they left, overhearing them say something about it being "such a shame" and "odd someone would willingly give away their potential."

“The fuck was that supposed to mean? I feel like shit.” He muttered, scratching as his chest.

His eyes widened as his fingertips danced along his chest. The feeling was foreign- his firm pecs felt doughy beneath his hand. He fully woke up now, staring down and gasping at the unfamiliar frame hidden beneath his tighter t-shirt.

“What the fuck!?” He grunted, pulling off his shirt, “No... no...” His hands caressed his hairy moobs, traveling down his distended, hairy belly, “This can’t be... this isn’t...” He grabbed fistfuls of his new belly fat, his hands moving up to feel his unwanted new beard, “How? What?” He looked around desperately, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

An older, hairier, out of shape version of himself met his gaze. And as he approached the mirror, the horrifying reality finally dawned on him.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?”

_____

It had only been a few weeks since your visit to Potential. And yet you couldn’t help but grin as you awoke on another sunny morning with a stiff morning wood. Your meaty hand instinctively gripped your impressive length, while you moaned and pumped with your muscular arm. A few minutes later, you basked in the afterglow of orgasm, slowly pulling yourself out of bed and entering the bathroom.

“Look at me.” You smirk, flexing your bicep and giving it a kiss, “God I’m not gonna get tired of this.”

When you awoke after the injection, you were shocked to find a younger version of yourself staring back at you. But unlike the you in your memories, you had a set of muscles that you could only ever have dreamed of. Bulging pecs, tight abs, and a set of impressive arms that immediately made your larger dick stand at attention. Potential was even nice enough to throw in their dieticians and personal trainers to ensure continued success. You were pleasantly surprised at how easily you picked up a work-out routine and a dedication to fitness- apparently all part of the potential they gave you.

“Fuck, look at that.” You mumbled, checking your phone as another payment went through from OnlyFans, “Beats that shitty desk job.” You do feel some regret for jerking off this AM without filming it, “Oh well, I’ll be ready to go soon.” But right now you had to prepare for a day at the lake with some of your new gym bros, “Hope my donor is doing well.” You think as you pull on a tight tank top, “Wish I could’ve thanked him.” And out you went, a carefree grin plastered on your face as you live your second chance to its fullest.

#male tf #male transformation #personality tf #jock tf #himbo tf #age progression #age regression

80 notes · View notes

sugawhaaa · 1 day ago

Text

☆[HAN ONE-SHOT]☆

🐾•{ four months and two weeks }•🐾

Warnings//genre:: SMUT, hybrid, breeding, mating, riding, no foreplay

Pairing:: sub!hamster!hybrid!Han x dom!fem!reader

A/N:: Gang this is so short I'm sorry. Also sorry my inspo and motivation is like nonexistent so I haven't been writing at all lately 😭

Skz masterlist:: 🐾

Taglist:: @yukichan67 @kbunzzi2oa @annafeebou

🎧::

Han has always been your snuggle bug, always up for cuddling up in your warmth, because it's in his nature. Hamsters like to burrow and cuddle up in the bedding, so naturally, Han likes to burrow into your body, snuggling into your chest or your neck, and he likes to cuddle up against your body and in your bed sheets. It's gotten to a point where you don't have separate beds, you have separate rooms but he sleeps in your bed at night. It was something you became accustomed to quickly and you enjoyed it.

One night though you notice him tossing and turning a lot before bed and when you woke up in the morning you noticed that Han wasn't beside you like usual, nor was he in the room which was strange for him considering hamsters are so clingy, especially him. You quickly get up and search for him only to find him in his room, curled up on the little bean bag chair in his room, his nose and ears consistently twitching.

"Jisungie, are you okay?" You come over to him, squatting down beside him.

"I-I think I'm..." His face burns red as sweat drips down his nose and builds along his hairline. "In heat..." he swallows hard before meeting your eyes, his eyes frantically searching yours for something. Understanding? Concern? Hope? He suddenly felt his eyes watering, the overload of emotions and hormones breaking through. "This morning I woke next to you a-and I couldn't hold back..." He looks at you with guilty eyes and your heart shatters at the sincerity in his eyes. "I started..." His eyes jitter around your face again, searching for your reaction.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," You wrap your arms around his head and upper back. "I know how hard these times are for you, I should've known...has it already been five months since your last one?" You feel kind of bad for not being able to track his cycle better. Hamsters have a different breeding cycle that is a little more like humans. Instead of going through heat/ovulation every spring for weeks on end Hamsters go through heat every four to five months.

"Four months and two weeks so...yeah," He looks down at your chest quickly before blushing. "Can you...Help me? Like you always do?" Part of him felt guilty for always asking for some sex during heat but the other side of him craved you like a drug and he knew you didn't mind, if not enjoyed it, so he asked.

"Of course, wanna get back to bed?" You smile and he nods. He follows close behind you as you walk back to your bedroom. The two of you quickly toss off your nightwear and crawl into bed, Han beneath you. His heats are very different from many other hybrids, to Han it's not entirely about mating and breeding it's about the sexual release, so he doesn't mind being on top or bottom: Heat to Jisung is almost like being in a full body sub-space. He bites his lip as he watches you crawl on top of him, his ears flicking quickly in interest. "Want me to ride you?" You ask just to be sure and he nods.

"Please..." He looks up at you desperately. You then push him down gently by his chest, getting him to relax against the pillows.

"I'll take care of you, baby," You say as you slowly sink down on his cock. During heat, he's extra sensitive so you need to do everything slowly and cautiously. He lets out a choked whine before latching onto your body, holding your hips, and burying his face in your upper chest. He takes heavy, shaking breaths as he holds onto you. You slowly begin to grind on him and he lets out a whimper.

"Feels good," he whispers between choked moans. His hands creep up to your back, rubbing it comfortingly. "I love you so much, you're so good to me," he murmurs before leaning back, watching you as you ride him, a small grin spreading across his lips as you lift yourself a little and back down. "Yes," He moans as he throws his head back. "Please keep going," He whines even though he knows that you had no real reason to stop.

"I won't, don't worry baby," you kiss his forehead before resuming your bouncing motion on him. "Not until you've let out all this frustration," you tuck his silver hair back and he looks up at you with those doe eyes, twinkling with love and need. His ears tuck back as he looks up at you but as you continue to ride him his ears perk up again.

"Fuck you're so beautiful like this," Han moans before biting his lip, breathing heavily again. "You'll make such beautiful babies," he smirks softly, laughing at himself. "Sorry if that's weird it's just what I'm thinking," he whines before tossing his head back again. "I-I think I'm close," He warns as you feel his cock twitching inside you, nudging at that tender spot. "Oh please please please," his mouth begins to hang open as his brows furrow, his body now drawn forward from the overwhelming sensation. "Oh my god, I'm gonna cum!" He cries out as his nails dig into your skin. "Gonna fill you up, make you mine baby," He lets out one last dirty remark before coming undone.

His body folds forward by instinct, wrapping his arms around your body as his cum warms you up from the inside out. "Oh baby," his lips quiver as he nuzzles his face into your neck.

"Shh, it's okay," you pat his head as the warmth envelops your body. He lets out little sobs from the overwhelming experience, his body trembling in your arms. He mumbles a bunch of incoherent lewd words as he nuzzles into your chest. "You did good baby," you stroke his hair back. Jisung can't help but smile as he cuddles into you, the rush of feel-good hormones taking over his body.

"I love you," he murmurs as his eyes flutter shut. "My mate,"

#Spotify #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz smut #skz imagines #skz jisung #jisung skz #stray kids han #han jisung smut #han jisung #han smut #jisung smut #skz hard asks #skz hard stan #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #skz hybrid

132 notes · View notes

genderqueerdykes · 2 days ago

Note

i read your post about punkness and thought i'd ask you since i love this account. i saw a tiktok (i know not a great place already) that said that you can't call yourself punk/be punk if you don't go to shows. is that true...? im severely disabled and deaf so i can't really listen to music and leave my house, but i've always identified myself with the punk/goth scene. i know music is a huge part of subcultures so i've always felt very left out of (online mainly) punk/goth spaces even though i try and participate in other ways.

hello there!

not only is that not true, but it's ableist and lame as hell. that is so pretentious, i am so tired of online punks distilling punk to "listens to loud music". and further more, people trying to create a divide between "real and fake punks." this is just the "POSER!!!!!!" fake goth shit from the 2000s all over again. punk shows are genuinely dangerous for a lot of people for quite literally no reason whatsoever. like they're enjoyable for many, but they are NOT accessible to disabled people in general. some places im sure go above and beyond but most are organized by someone who's intoxicated, or thinking about the "wow" factor more than anyone's safety or well being.

i don't go to shows anymore. i did for the better part of a year and then stopped because i am also disabled. most of the venues are VERY small and crowded. there is no room for mobility aids. i've had to be out on the floor with other people dancing and moshing without even a cane. you can very easily get pushed or hit or knocked down and people may or may not help you get up. also the crowds get filmed without anyone being informed beforehand that there might be filming happening and that might not feel welcoming to paranoid people

there's almost always flashing lights at shows for some reason, which can be extremely dangerous for epileptic and photosensitive individuals. these sorts of spaces are hell on earth for anxious people, people with PTSD, autism, schizophrenia, ADHD and many other kinds of neurodivergence and mental illness. there's generally not really spaces where you can decompress or stop hearing loud noises for a while. i literally just hung out outside most of the venues because the music was so loud it was making my ears ring. people with tinnitus and misophonia are going to struggle greatly in these environments

alcohol and drugs are the norms at these shows. often times, minors are not carded, and are in fact given booze and alcohol anyways because the show organizers just don't see that as a bad thing. i witnessed show organizers in my own area giving drugs and alcohol to minors and not carding anyone. i was offered so many different types of drugs and offered alcohol so many times it made me dizzy. i had issues with alcohol in the past and have trauma surrounding it and being around drunk people. these environments are NOT friendly for addicts and substance users who are trying to maintain a healthy relationship with substances, or those who need to be away from them in order to heal

like you mentioned, a lot of d/Deaf and hard of hearing people may not feel included in these spaces. not only that but shows can CAUSE hearing damage and loss, due to the fact that no one is making sure that the music is being played at a safe volume. most of the time it's as loud as the speakers will go, or close to it. most of the instruments are either intentionally poorly tuned, or tuned in such a way where they sound harsh, aggressive, avant garde and unique. as a result, this can hurt a lot of people's ears, overstimulate them, or cause them to faint if it's certain tones or decibels. i know many punks who developed hearing loss due to this

i tried to point out that saying that punks HAVE to listen to punk music is ableist toward d/Deaf and hard of hearing people but for whatever reason that pissed people off. but i'd like to stress again: if you assert that punks HAVE to listen to punk music, you are leaving out people with hearing difficulties. not all d/Deaf and hard of hearing people can't hear anything at all, I understand this. but saying that punks HAVE to listen to music is leaving out so many people with hearing difficulties or those who are in danger of losing their hearing. please be compassionate. this is a serious issue.

it's not virtue signalling to say that this affects deaf and hoh punks in a very serious way. thank you for reaching out to talk about it. honestly, shame on everyone who said it's virtue signalling to point out that punks saying you have to listen to music is a slap in the face to a lot of deaf and hoh people. i hope this gives you something to think about. you really need to consider people on every side of a spectrum when it comes to a disability. you need to care about people with significant or total hearing loss, too.

anyone who tells you you HAVE to go to shows and listen to punk music is a cop without realizing it. they're policing who punks are and what they do. that's gatekeeping. that's policing others' identities. that's literally unpunk. as long as you resonate with punk ideals and aren't a cop or other kind of fascist, you're a punk. it really is that simple. it's an entire subculture outside of just the music. i get how important the music is. but it's literally so ableist to say that punks HAVE to listen to music and HAVE to go to shows.

also, not all punks have the time. some punks have a family to care for or careers they enjoy. not all punks have a local punk music scene at all. that's a very privileged approach if you ask me.

#asks #answers #punk #ableism

46 notes · View notes

seraphtrevs · 1 day ago

Text

Been rewatching some Jesse scenes since I’m gearing up to write again (sequel to Sweet Tooth – wooo), and I particularly wanted to look at his relationship with his parents since I’ve given Jesse a son. And like, after watching those scenes again—I really don’t think Jesse’s parents were abusive. Since I was writing notes up, I thought I might share them (under the cut because it's 2000 words 😭)

Here's what happens in 1x04: Jesse smokes so much meth he starts having paranoid delusions that people are coming to kill him. He shows up at his parents’ house—I’m guessing he went there because being with his parents made him feel safe. He doesn’t knock on the door, though—he crashes into their backyard while his parents and brother are eating dinner. He’s still very obviously high.

His parents let him in to sleep it off. It’s likely been years since he’s lived there, but they’ve kept his bedroom for him. There are pictures that he drew as a child framed on the wall, as well as pictures of himself as a child.

Meanwhile, his parents wonder what kind of drugs he’s on. His mom wants to check him for needle marks. His dad wonders if they should let him stay, and his mom mentions a church that has meetings for people struggling with addiction, and that if he agrees to go then maybe he can stay (although Jesse has a house to live in. There’s no reason for him to stay, but his parents probably see his sudden appearance as maybe a cry for help). Jesse’s mom mentions she’s not sure what to tell Jake about the sudden reappearance of his older brother, which suggests Jesse drifts in and out of their lives, which is probably hurtful and confusing for a child.

Jesse appears and asks when dinner will be served. His mom asks him if he slept well and offers to do his laundry, which he declines. His dad waits for Jesse to leave before saying to his wife “we are not doing this again,” suggesting that there have been multiple times in the past that Jesse has shown up like this and it’s never turned out well. His mom protests, but Dad is firm—they’ve got to lay down the law and be consistent.

Except they don’t. They find Jesse setting the table, and they clearly don’t have the heart to make any demands. Why? Well—I think the obvious answer is that seeing their son home, setting the table like he did as a little boy, tugs at their heartstrings. Which is the reason Jesse is doing it.

So like—so far, his parents have been very kind and understanding to him. They didn’t berate him about showing up to their house high, they gave him a place to sleep it off, his mother politely asked him if he slept well, offered to do his laundry, and welcomed him for dinner.

Cut to Jesse hanging out with his brother in his room. He admires Jake’s many awards and suggests they hang out more often. Jake doesn’t seem very interested in this and actually seems pretty uncomfortable with Jesse being there. Mom checks in on them, asking how they’re doing in an overly bright tone, and leaves the door open. I think if Jesse’s mom was abusive, she would have said something nasty to him and ordered the door be left open, but she didn’t. Why? Probably because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, while still signaling to Jake that she’s available if he needs her.

Jesse is VERY offended by this and sneers that she probably thinks he's a criminal (he is, though) and that she doesn’t want him to corrupt their favorite son. Jake scoffs at this and says that Jesse is clearly the favorite, since he’s all they ever talk about. If Jake is under the impression that Jesse is their favorite son, I think it’s pretty safe to assume that they aren’t talking about how much they hate him all the time. They talk about him all the time because they’re worried. Jesse looks surprised, and then a little ashamed.

That night, he can’t sleep, so he opens the trunk in his bedroom. It’s full of his old toys and drawings. He gets a phone call from Combo and they make a deal for Jesse to sell him more drugs. Because he is, in fact, a criminal. And like—I think it’s deeply shitty of Jesse to be angry at his mom for not even directly saying to his face that she’s worried he might be committing crimes but just maybe sort of implying it, when that is indeed what he’s doing, under her own roof, after she welcomed him in. Jesse is the asshole in this situation, not his mom.

Later on, Jesse’s parents’ maid finds a joint. His parents are upset and assume it’s his. His mom asks, rhetorically, how many chances have they given him, and how many times have they had this conversation, and how many times has Jesse lied to their faces and played on their emotions by telling them what they want to hear so they’ll give him another chance, which they always do, and how it makes them feel like fools. If Jesse’s parents were abusive, I don’t think they would have given him so many chances. And his parents have a right to be angry about all the lies he’s told them. They are wrong in this particular case, but it’s not unreasonable for them to make that assumption, since they’ve had the exact same thing happen many times before, which Jesse doesn’t deny. And even though the joint wasn’t his, he did spend the previous evening making a drug deal out of his childhood bedroom.

And like—we’ve witnessed the manipulation his mom is talking about in this very episode, with Jesse setting the table to prevent them from asking him about what drugs he was on when he showed up in their backyard, which works—they don’t confront him. They don’t want to chase him away.

So they kick him out. But it’s not like he’s going to the streets. He has a house! A very nice house, in a great neighborhood, all to himself!

And about that house. I also rewatched the scene where he loses the home in 2x04, and this is what happens: his parents ask Jesse to speak with them and their lawyer. Jesse pouts and scowls and rolls his eyes. He assumes this is “another” intervention, i.e. a boring waste of his time, in his opinion. He only becomes interested in what’s happening when the lawyer says he has 72 hours to leave. He can’t believe he’s being kicked out of his own house! Except his dad has to explain to him that he doesn’t own it.

How was Jesse not aware that he didn’t own the house??? He just seems to think that living in it means he owns it. That suggests to me that he isn’t paying rent. Jesse isn’t a little kid. He’s got to be aware that owning a house is a legal matter, and that he’d need to have his name put on the deed. But he doesn’t know that, because it’s pretty clear to me that he’s never actually had any adult responsibilities.

So back to the meeting. Jesse is furious at being kicked out of “his” house. Apparently at one point, the plan had been to sell it and split the profits 50/50. He angrily asks why that’s off the table now. Jesse’s dad says it’s because Jesse a “speed manufacturer.” Jesse IMMEDIATELY lies—like he doesn’t even take a beat to process it, he just reflexively denies it, sounding outraged that his father would DARE to accuse him of such a thing. But like—he is a speed manufacturer!!!

His mom says that a DEA agent came to their house looking for him. Jesse immediately lies again and says that he’s been HELPING the DEA, and that he could get into a lot of trouble for telling them so, and sarcastically says “you’re welcome,” I guess expecting them to be impressed that he’s helping the DEA? (These are all lies—he is lying his ass off.) His mom says she saw the meth lab in the basement. Jesse still doesn’t admit it. Instead, he expresses annoyance that his mom has a key. To the house she owns. The lawyer confronts him with photos of the lab. Jesse dismisses it as not a big deal because it isn’t even there anymore, he cleaned it out. He doesn’t acknowledge at all that he just lied to his parents’ face several times in the space of about five minutes.

His dad says they can’t stop him from ruining his life, but they won’t let him take them down with them. It's harsh, but true. Jesse set up a meth lab in the basement of a home his parents legally owned, which could have gotten them into trouble. And when the DEA came looking for him, they didn’t turn him over, even though they could have. I mean, maybe you can argue that they just didn’t want to lose the house, but I think they also don’t want their son to go to jail.

His mom shows up later at his house while he’s taking a nap. He tries to hide all his drug paraphernalia while telling his mom that the whole thing has been such a huge wake up call for him, and how he’s thinking about going to business school, and how great it is that they’re starting a dialogue! Very sweet now, very apologetic. (HE’S LYING. HE’S NOT GOING TO BUSINESS SCHOOL, HE’S SELLING DRUGS.)

Then he notices that furniture is being moved out. He drops the sweetness and gets angry. His mom tells him she’s putting the furniture in storage and will give it back to him when he “grows up.” Then he gets really angry and says that he “earned” the house by taking his aunt to her appointments and making her lunch every day. And then his mom says that he didn’t make her lunch every day.

And you know—I kind of believe her? Like—Jesse obviously was involved with his aunt’s care, but is it hard to believe that maybe he was a little flaky about it? And it’s true Ginny wanted him to live in her house. But she didn’t leave the house to Jesse in her will. She left it to her sister. Why? I think probably because she knew that Jesse wasn’t mature enough to own a home. Which was true!

Then Jesse gets right up in her face and starts screaming that she abandoned her dying sister (did she?) and now she’s making her eldest son homeless (as if Jesse’s choices didn’t have anything to do with that) then he sarcastically says what a great family they have. And then she slaps him and yells back that she doesn’t know why he’s like this. What a monster.

Anyway. I think we see Jesse suffer so much abuse at Walt’s hands that we kind of forget that he had a whole life before Walt showed up in it, and he was royally fucking it up in spite of having a lot of privilege. He's an upper middle class white boy who, at age 24, has no job (other than selling drugs), and yet he had a house to live in rent-free (kind of doubt he paid utilities either), clothes to wear, and food to eat, and it basically seems like he did whatever he felt like (which was mostly partying) while suffering very few consequences other than not being allowed to live with his parents, which I’m assuming as an adult man, he’d rather not be doing anyway. And the only reason he lost that house was because he built a meth lab in the basement. Jesse wasn’t abused. He was coddled.

#jesse pinkman #breaking bad

34 notes · View notes

torturedtypewritersdept · 5 hours ago

Text

proclivity - pt. six - motion sickness

✯ pairing:

ex!bff!rafe cameron x diabetic!kook!fem!reader

✯ summary:

at one point in time rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?

✯ [7k]warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, domestic violence (not rafe), mean!ex!jj etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was originally posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity and i have rewritten + reshared it here :) trying out a new format with this post, hope you like it!

You laid with Rafe on that white fleece blanket for what felt like hours. You nuzzled your face deeper into his chest, as you recounted some more of the trauma that you had experienced at the hands of JJ, listening to the constant beat of Rafe’s heart. You knew that when that sound ever stopped that you’d cease to exist. Rafe's phone rang loudly, bringing you out of your conversation and he dug through the pocket of his khaki shorts glancing at the screen - it was Topper. As he answered the phone, he gave you a knowing look, letting you know that the conversation wasn’t over. You made a mental note that you were going to have to have a chat with Top about calling at the most inconvenient times. Rafe rolled his eyes but drug his large finger across the screen to answer the facetime call.

“What is it, Top?”

Rafe questioned, rolling his eyes.

“That’s no way to greet your best friend, jackass.”

Topper quipped, a smile on his lips.

“Well, I’m a little busy right now.”

Rafe replied, moving the camera to show you laid on his chest on the beach.

“Shit, my bad. Have you taken her to pound town yet?”

Rafe grimaced, Topper must've thought you were asleep because there was no way he’d say that with you conscious.

“No, he hasn’t.”

You whispered out, looking up at Rafe with sad eyes and he swallowed thickly. At Topper’s words, you wondered if that’s all this was, some sick ploy to sleep with you or to break your heart on purpose. Realization of the fact that you just shared some of your most vulnerable parts with him made your stomach sink, but you quickly pushed it down.

“Hey, shit. I’m sorry Y/n, I was just messing with Rafe. He really likes you.”

Topper spoke with a tone so genuine you decided to relax a little.

“I think I got that top, thanks for the info.”

You quipped, bringing light-hearted energy back to the conversation. Though, you knew you’d have to talk to Rafe about what he said in private.

“Anyways, losers. There’s a party at my house tonight. I expect to see you two there.”

Topper urged.

“We might make an appearance. We’re spending time together though so probably not.”

Your heart leapt at his words, he was willing to give up a party to spend time with you. Who was this new and improved version of Rafe Cameron?

“Well spend time together at this party.”

Topper urged again, stronger this time.

“We’ll think about it, bye Top.”

Rafe’s tone was gruff and annoyed. Topper was still talking but Rafe hung up the phone not wanting to hear anything else he had to say.

“We can go if you want to, Rafael.”

You spoke sweetly, giving him a smile, as he hung up the phone.

“Are you sure, angel? This is our day, we don’t have to.”

He reassured you, placing a hand on your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to spend time with the boys, it’s okay.”

Your cheerful, radiant smile sent a shiver down his spine. When you gave him that smile, he knew he’d do anything and everything to make you happy until he breathed his last breath. You were such a ball of sunshine, his sunshine, that’s all Rafe could manage to think as he smiled at you, thankful for your kind, free-spirited, go with the flow nature. He almost couldn’t believe all you had gone through, he didn’t truly want to believe it. It hurt him to think of JJ’s hands on you, hurting you.

Truth be told, Rafe didn’t need to go to this party, he didn’t even want to. But, you saying that he could meant a lot to him and it meant even more that you’d be there with him, on his arm. You laid with him for a bit longer, watching as the sun went completely down, the light pink and orange hues turning to the black of night before you began packing up the remnants of your picnic and headed to the truck, your hand in his.

It was ten o'clock when you made it to Topper’s house and you felt yourself wanting to let loose a bit. As Rafe made his way around the island of the kitchen, he poured himself some tequila in a red solo cup and asked Topper what he had for you to drink.

“Top, what do you have that y/n can drink?”

Topper’s eyes looked like they were going to fall out of his head.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, y/n. I didn’t pick anything up for you.”

He placed his head in his hands.

“It’s okay, Top. I can have a drink or two. It’s no big deal.”

You shrugged your shoulders and your eyes met Rafe’s. He was angry. How could Top be such an idiot, he thought. How could he ask you to come and not think of you when buying beverages? You could tell the thought of alcohol being in your bloodstream made him uneasy.

“There’s insulin in the truck, okay? You tell me if you start to feel weird.”

He reassuringly rubbed his hands up and down your arms and craned his head down where you could reach him. Standing at six foot four, he towered over. He could see the lust present in your eyes and when he leaned in close enough, you locked your lips with his. The kiss was passionate and slow and it felt like everything in the room had disappeared, like it was just the two of you standing there. Then you heard the voice of your abuser. You pulled away and gave Rafe scared eyes as you surveyed the room, looking for where his voice was coming from. He knew what was happening, the fear that you displayed and the voice he had grown to hate told him what was wrong. He didn’t need to ask.

“Hey, angel. Look at me. It’s okay. Need you to promise you’ll tell me if you start feeling bad before I get you a beer, okay?”

“I promise I will.”

You replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. He took you out of the kitchen and led you outside to the bonfire where Topper and Kelce stood, in hopes that getting you away from JJ would be enough to calm you. It was - you knew you were safe in the presence of Rafael, let alone of all three of them. Rafe stepped away for only a moment, grabbing you a beer from the cooler, and popping it open before handing it to you. The coolness of the bottle sent a shock through your arm. He made his way back behind you and you leaned up against him, his hands on your hips. You took a sip of the beer in your hands and leaned your head back against Rafe’s pectoral muscles, craning your neck to the side as he leaned down and peppered kisses to the exposed skin. You were entering bliss when you heard the all too eerily familiar voice of JJ Maybank.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

He taunted and Rafe’s eyes shot to his, the grip he had on your waist tightening in protection. Rafe scoffed, not wanting to give JJ the time of day or put you in harm's way by starting a fight.

“You like my sloppy seconds, Rafael? Tell me, how does she taste?”

“Don’t you dare call him that, JJ.”

You spat. Rafael was his name so anyone could really use it. But not JJ. He didn’t know Rafe well enough to even use the nickname his parents had given him, let alone the name you used as a term of endearment.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? There’s no sloppy seconds, when you never had someone to begin with, Maybank.”

Rafe retorted, his voice sinister, begging JJ to egg him on.

“Sweetheart, tell your boyfriend to watch his mouth or I'll put a matching scar on the other cheek.”

He grinned cheekily and Rafe grabbed you by the shoulders, moving you out of his path as he stalked toward JJ. Topper and Kelce stood, chests puffed out at his remark, confused about what he meant but the promise of a threat towards you putting them in a mode of protection.

“What the fuck did you say?!”

Rafe growled in his direction.

“I said, It’d be a real shame if I had to put another scar on her pretty little face because you don’t know how to behave, wouldn’t it?”

The crunch of Rafe’s fist hitting JJ’s jaw echoed across the beach, as the blonde flew back under the weight of his right hook. Rafe moved swiftly toward JJ, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, landing not one, not two, but three more blows to his cheek.

“You’re not ever gonna touch her again!”

Rafe screamed as his fists relentlessly wailed into the side of JJ’s head, blood splattered up and landed underneath Rafe’s eye.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Cameron. I’ll touch her whenever and however I want to.”

He coughed out, JJ was a cocky bastard who didn’t know when to shut the fuck up, even when he was being pummelled into the ground. At his remark, Rafe hit him so hard that he thought he was dead for a second.

“You had enough, Maybank?”

Rafe asked as he drew back from JJ, still holding him by the collar of his shirt.

“Not even close.”

He grunted out before spitting in Rafe’s face, Rafe’s hands released JJ in an attempt to get the saliva off of his face. He was disgusted like anyone would have been. JJ took the opportunity and lunged on top of Rafe, pinning him to the ground, and laying a hit on Rafe’s cheek. You and Topper made your way to them quickly, no longer being onlookers. Topper pulled JJ off of Rafe from behind. JJ was too fast though and wiggled out of Topper’s grasp by the time Rafe was back to his feet. You quickly inserted your body in between them, thinking that was a sure-fire way to stop the fight. It wasn’t. Before you knew it, you looked in JJ’s direction out of the corner of your eye and his fist collided with your nose at full force. Shock littered Rafe’s face and anger infiltrated every fiber of his being.

“Told you I’d touch her how I wanted to.”

JJ remarked, a sinister smirk residing on his face. It was one thing to hear your first-hand account of JJ’s abuse but it was another to watch him put his hands on you, accidental or not, and Rafe went absolutely feral.

“Topper, Kelce, get her out of here!”

Rafe yelled, taking in your shaking, crying form, as your hands covered your face. Topper did as he was told, lifting you bridal style and taking you back towards the house, sitting you on the steps, instructing people to move out of the way before kneeling in front of you. Kelce followed shortly behind.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

Topper questioned softly, grabbing your knee, and squeezing it to give you some reassurance. You continued crying.

“Come on, pretty girl, let me see it.”

“N-no, T-top.”

You choked out.

“I need to look at it, y/n.”

“N-no.”

You continued to sob uncontrollably. Topper made his way behind you, taking a seat and placing you in between his legs.

“It’s okay. Rafe’s gonna be here soon, it’s gonna be fine.”

He whispered into your hairline and squeezed you tightly into a hug. Kelce knelt down in front of you, slowly coaxing you to pry your hands away from your face. When you did, the shock that both boys felt at the sight of your nose was enough to send them reeling. Topper looked at Kelce, his eyes laced with venom and specific instructions and Kelce knew exactly what it meant. He needed to go to Rafe. He nodded his head reassuringly, placing a kiss on your cheek before stalking toward the bonfire where the fight had originated. When Kelce made it back down to where Rafe was, he held off on approaching him fully and instead watched as Rafe stalked toward the offender, hitting him so hard that he knew JJ Maybank was barely conscious. Truth be told, he wanted his best friend to pummel him into the sand, he wanted him to suffer, to be laying in a hospital bed for what he had done to you and Kelce would make sure that whether it was Rafe or not, that’s what was going to happen. He continued to look on at the scene, Rafe punching JJ over and over again. Blow after violent blow landing on JJ’s face, stomach, and chest. He deserved it, Kelce knew that, but what he didn’t expect was Rafe to continue the blows, with seemingly no end in sight. He began to wonder if Rafe could stop if he could control himself enough to be able to. He should’ve expected it because Rafe Cameron had been in love with you since pre-school and anyone who dared to try and hurt you or take you away from him was sure to pay a hefty price. Kelce had paid his the summer before eighth grade when he made a comment about your ever-growing breasts. Rafe had bruised his ribs and his ego for talking about you in such a vulgar way, especially in front of him.

Kelce was brought out of his thoughts and began to make his way toward Rafe when he looked on and saw Rafe pinning JJ’s right arm behind his back, preparing to snap the bone in half if that’s what it took to send the message to the Pogue to stay the fuck away from his girl.

“Rafael!”

Kelce yelled at him, which got his attention immediately. The boys did not use his full name. Rafe looked in his direction with bewildered eyes.

“I’m a little fucking busy, Kelceo.”

He spat.

“I get that, but you need to get up here and check on her. I think he broke her nose. Besides, she doesn’t need to watch you be an animal, Rafe. You’re not that guy anymore.”

Rafe swallowed the words of his friend and gingerly nodded, realization hit him, Kelce was right. He threw JJ to the ground, knowing that for the first time in his fucking life Kelce wasn’t saying some dumbass remark, he wasn’t being an asshole or a bully, he was doing the right thing and currently, the right thing was keeping his best friend out of prison for murder. Instead, keeping him where he belonged, with you.

Rafe’s tall figure quickly stalked towards you, fear in his eyes. Your hands covered your face as the blood pooled from your nose. The crunch of the bone could be felt with every nerve ending that inhabited your body. He kneeled in front of you on the balls of his feet, hands hovering over your figure, afraid to touch you in fear of hurting you worse.

“Baby, I need you to talk to me. How bad are you hurt?”

“R-Rafael…”

You whimpered violently, your hands clutching to your face, blood pooling down past your chin.

“Come on baby girl, let me see your face. I need to look to fix it.”

He spoke sweetly and you trusted his every word. Slowly lifting your hands away from your face, your eyes met Rafe’s worrying form. You winced at the lack of pressure on your wound and fought to get your hands back to it. Before you could complete the movement, Rafe grabbed you by the wrists. He took in the already forming bruises under your eyes and the way the bridge of your nose now sat at a bend that protruded out to the left side.

“Okay, baby. It’s okay. You look so pretty. But I think your nose is broken so I need to take you to the hospital, okay?”

“I-, I don’t wanna go, Rafe.”

You choked out a sob, whimpering into his chest, as he pulled you in. Blood soaked the shirt he was wearing but he didn’t care. You needed to be held and that’s what he was going to do.

“I know baby, but I just want to get you checked out, okay? We gotta make sure you're alright.”

You nodded, giving him permission. Which you were thankful he waited for and you felt his strong arms lift you up, carrying you bridal style, your head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and the scrunch of his button-down moving up and down with each step he took.

“I’m sorry, Rafael.”

“Shh. Nothing to be sorry about, angel.”

He cooed, placing a kiss on your hairline.

“I’m getting blood all over your shirt.”

“It’s okay, you can always buy me a new one.”

He quipped, making you giggle, and even though it made you wince, you were thankful it was laughter created by him. You were brought out of your thoughts as Rafe finally came up on his truck. You marveled at how he opened the door, with such ease, not even shifting you in his arms to readjust. He was so strong and you loved it. He placed you into the passenger seat, buckling you in and reaching into the center console from which he retrieved a box of baby wipes. He had started keeping them in his truck after the first nosebleed he got during football practice and it had been a lifesaver ever since. Today, they’d be used for his girl and while that made him cringe, he was thankful he had them on hand. He slowly pulled them out of the container and stilled his hands, not wanting to spook you.

“Okay, sweet girl, I’m going to clean your face up, alright?”

You hummed in response, talking made it hurt worse and Rafe knew that so he didn’t probe you any further. Once he had your permission, he gently brought the wipes up to your nose and chin, wiping the blood off of your face as he stood between the passenger side door and the seat you occupied. You winced in pain at the feeling of the cold wipes against your bruised flesh.

“I know baby, I know it hurts, I’m so sorry.”

“s’okay Rafey.”

You muttered.

“There we go, my pretty girl is all cleaned up, no more blood.”

He gave you that classic, bright, panty-dropping Rafe Cameron smile and pecked your lips lightly, careful not to touch your nose, but wanting to give you some sort of reassurance that you were safe. You gave him a forced smile and he closed your door, making his way to the driver's side, hopping in and starting the truck. He gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze before pulling off, heading toward St. Olive’s emergency department.

After hours of x-rays and CT scans and waiting, the doctor had confirmed yours and Rafe’s worst fears, you had a displaced nasal fracture, which meant they had to pop it back into place. Rafe knew the procedure would be painful, he had dislocated his shoulder before, and when it was popped back into place he screamed like a girl. The memory was enough to make him shudder and the fact that his sweet angel had to deal with that level of pain made him want to cry. He held your hand when a doctor and a nurse brought in long silver tools that looked like medieval torture devices. When your fear-stricken eyes met him, he almost collapsed. Rafe stayed up by your head, sitting on a stool beside you, stroking your hair as you lay flat on the bed. The anticipation of the pain you were about to feel took over all of your senses. You genuinely just wanted them to get it the fuck over with. They injected you with numbing medication first and then quickly got to work, inserting the tools up your nose and pressing hard against the bone. The crunch made Rafe feel sick and it made him feel even worse when he looked down at you and saw the tears running down your face. He placed a kiss on your forehead and continued running his fingers through your hair, while the doctors applied the splint to your nose. After the conclusion of the procedure, you were released from the hospital back into Rafe’s care. Luckily, you slept most of the way home from the pain medicine they had given you before your departure. As you and Rafe quietly made your way into the house, you were met with the unexpected - Ward. His voice bellowed through the thick air of the foyer and the lights flickered on. He was angry and you couldn’t blame him. He was just being a good dad, a good person.

“Rafael Joseph Cameron! What were you two doing out so late?! I’m supposed to take care of her while her parents are out of town. How in the fucking world can I do that if you are gone all hours of the night?! Huh?!”

“Sorry, Dad-”

Rafe stuttered, Ward’s wrath was the only thing in the world that he seemed to be afraid of.

“It’s my fault.”

You spoke, your voice soft and tender, which took Ward away from his anger just enough to voice his concern. He noticed the pained expression you displayed as you moved the ice away from your face and revealed the cast that sat on your nose.

“What the fuck happened?!”

Ward questioned, moving closer to you, hands out in search of your cheeks. You winced away from his touch and Rafe grabbed his wrists.

“Dad, don’t touch it. Her nose is broken, they had to pop it back in place. She’s in a lot of pain.”

Rafe all but barked at his father, his mind associating him as a threat. Ward’s eyes softened.

“Sweetheart, how did this happen?”

His voice was no longer bellowing through the halls of the mansion, it was soft, caring, and kind. It reminded you of Rafe, which was odd considering you were almost sure all of the good qualities in him came from his late mother, Kate.

“Rafe was defending me at a party and the guy had him pinned down. I got in the middle and the guy hit me.”

“Son, is this true? Why were you fighting? You know my rules about fighting.”

Ward’s tone was still soft, but disappointment laced his voice. You knew his rules about fighting. Rafe wasn’t allowed to fight unless he was on the brink of death or he was protecting someone else. Ward was very strict about that and always had been. Though most of the tomfoolery and fights Rafe had been in over the years Ward was unaware of.

“It was her ex. He’s hurt her before and he said something smart. I just lost it, Dad.”

Rafe looked down, waiting for Ward’s wrath and disappointment. He lifted his son’s chin, so his eyes could meet his and placed his hand on his cheek.

“I’m not mad, Rafael. I’m just glad you both protected each other tonight. Now, go upstairs, get some rest and we will talk in the morning.”

Ward instructed and the two of you quickly obliged, heading for the staircase. Rafe led you with an outstretched hand that you clung to until you made it to the bedroom.

“You want me to run you a bath, baby?”

“I’d love that, Rafael. Thank you, sweet boy.”

You smiled as best you could, any movement hurting the newly broken part of your face. Rafe momentarily stepped out and into the bathroom, leaving his robe on the bed for you to change into. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable and as much as he wanted to gawk at your beautiful body, he knew now wasn’t the time and when the time came, it would be special. You quickly undressed, wrapping the robe around you. It was white and fluffy and warm, like a fleece blanket. The best part about it was the intoxicating smell of Rafe that lingered in every fiber. You made your way to the bathroom, walking into Rafe being bent over the side, hands dipped in the water to make sure it was just the right temperature. You stood there in the doorway, gawking at the way his bicep contracted as he leaned over the edge of the tub, pouring the bubbles in. Everything about him turned you on, even the way he was blissfully unaware of your presence. You cleared your throat and he turned his neck to look in your direction, arms still outstretched, muscles contracting, as his body leaned over the bath he was preparing for you.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

His sweet smile made your knees weak. How could he think you were pretty right now? ‘It’s just a nickname, he doesn't mean it’, you thought.

“Hi.”

You spoke timidly, making your way into the bathroom and sitting on the lid of the toilet seat. You continued watching him as he finished up, turning the water off, and moving his body toward you.

“Are you ready to get in angel?”

He asks, squatting in front of you, holding your hands in his.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

You sheepishly smiled, looking into his bright baby blues. He gently pulled you to your feet, holding your hands in his.

“Let me step out so you can undress, baby.”

“No.”

You all but yelled at him, but quickly composed yourself. You wanted him to see you, to see all of you.

“No?”

He looked confused and it made you giggle.

“It’s okay, Rafael. You’ve seen me in a bathing suit, this is no different.”

You played it off, knowing it was indeed very different. You were about to be naked in front of the boy you had been in love with for your entire life. It was very fucking different.

“It’s very different, sweetheart.”

He replied, emphasis on the ‘very’.

“It’s okay.”

You reassure him with a smile and before he can protest, you drop the robe from your shoulders. He shuddered as it hit the floor and his eyes were invaded with the sight of you - your breasts, plump and beautiful, sitting pretty in front of him, begging, screaming, crying for him to touch them. You watched him swallow thickly and stepped closer to him, eyes boring holes into his.

“Do you like what you see, Rafael?”

You questioned, your lips turning upward into a devilish smirk. You knew what the fuck you were doing. Though you weren’t sure how you had never even been naked in front of JJ. This just felt so different, so easy.

“You have no idea how much.”

He replied simply, trying to keep his voice even. He took your hand again, helping you lower yourself into the bubbles and once you were seated he went to exit the room, so you could have time to relax after having such a hard day.

“Rafael, where are you going?”

“I just thought you’d want time to relax baby.”

“Well, it’s hard to relax without you, ya know?”

You playfully rolled your eyes as you joked.

“So, you want me to sit with you, baby?”

He was anxious for your answer, not truly knowing what you wanted from him at this moment - casual sex, intimacy, or both.

“I want you to get in with me, sweet boy. Just hold me for a little while.”

His lips turned up into a smile and he quickly stripped himself of his clothes, placing one foot into the tub and sitting behind you. He spread his legs, pulling you back into him and you laid your head on his chest.

“How’s that, pretty girl? Is this what you wanted?”

He smirked into a chuckle but as much as you wanted to laugh you heard that stupid nickname again and it made you cringe.

“Don’t call me that, I’m not that.”

Your voice was weak and feeble. He was taken aback by your declaration because you were that. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Do you not like it at all or just right now?”

You almost cried at the sweet question and how well he knew you, how in tune he was with your feelings.

“Just right now, I think. I just don’t feel very pretty right now.”

“I know, baby. But, nothing has changed. It’s just a broken bone, it’ll heal.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just worried, ya know. I mean, what if when it heals, I don’t look the same or you don’t like me anymore?”

“Baby, you gotta slow down, okay? Just breathe. You are the most beautiful person in the world, inside and out, even when you’re hurt. That’s never going to change. I’m never going to not love you.”

“Y-you love me?”

“I do. I sort of always have.”

He replied boldly. You couldn’t believe the words you were hearing, he loved you too. After all this time, he loved you too.

“Is it okay if I clean you up, baby? I’d prefer if you weren’t covered in blood when I tell you that I love you too.”

You questioned him and a smirk danced across your face. His eyes shot up at the confession laced in the back of the nonchalant nature of such a simple sentence, such a simple question. He was absolutely floored. You loved him too. How long had you loved him too? You took the wash rag in your hands, wringing it out and bringing it up to Rafe’s face, gently wiping the blood away from underneath his eyes, around his mouth, on his cheeks, and in his hairline. You dipped it back into the water, making sure to clean each wound with intent and care, placing a kiss on his nose when you were done.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone take care of me like that.”

He gruffly spoke, attempting to clear his throat. The way you made him feel was electric, every fiber of his being, every nerve ending, every muscle was on fire for the way you cared for him.

“Your mom did, I know that for a fact.”

You spoke sweetly and he smiled, knowing you were exactly right. Kate loved him deeply and cared for him like this. Maybe that’s why he loved you so much, you reminded him so much of her.

“Let’s go to bed, Rafael. I’m tired.”

“I know you are baby.”

He placed a kiss on your temple, taking your hands and helping you stand in the tub, wrapping a towel around your shivering form. He quickly dried off and helped you out of the tub, leading you back into his bedroom. You dried off the best you could and sat on the edge of the bed, the towel wrapped around you beneath your armpits. Rafe was rummaging through his dresser, looking for clothes to wear to bed for the both of you when you ushered him over to you.

“Rafe, come here.”

Your voice was soft, but it was coated with desire and longing. He took in your still naked form, thanking whatever Gods were on his side for letting him be here with you, thanking you internally for letting him see you like this. He made his way over to you, following your instructions, and sat on the bed next to you. He was nervous, being naked beside you sent chills down his spine, the water no longer providing any modesty for either of you. He ran his hand up and down his knees repeatedly, seeing him this nervous made you smile.

“What is it, angel?”

He questioned, afraid to touch you in fear of making you uncomfortable.

“Can you just hold me before we put clothes on? I just want to stay like this for a little while.”

“Is that all, angel? You had me worried for a second. Come here.”

You let out a soft giggle, removing your towel and crawling onto his lap, straddling him, the tip of his dick brushing up against your core. He bit back a groan and you felt him grow hard beneath you. You knew what the fuck you were doing and you smirked as you laid your head on his chest. He held you there, rubbing soft circles into your back as he fought to gain his composure. Getting his dick wet was the last thing on his mind, even with your antics. He wouldn’t allow his physical desires to fuck this up. He finally had you, finally knew that you loved him and wanted him too and he wanted your first time to be special. He looked down at you at the exact moment that you looked up at him, his eyes locking with yours. You plunged your lips into his, bringing your hands up to his face. His mouth opened slightly, letting you in. Your tongues fell in sync with each other, like they were meant to wrestle against each other for all of eternity and maybe they were. You panted for air, pulling away, moving to place gentle kisses on his collarbones and his broad shoulders. He pulled back, pushing you a bit, creating a barrier between the two of you. You swallowed thickly at the hurt you felt, at the rejection.

“We should stop.”

He spoke, his tone even, and it shattered your heart into a million pieces.

“I-i’m sorry. I know I’m not experienced, I know that’s not attractive.”

Your voice shook with embarrassment and your eyes went to your hands which were no longer holding on to Rafe’s arms and instead were in your lap. You squeezed them together, a habit you only took part in when you were extremely anxious. You cursed yourself, you couldn’t even kiss him right, you couldn’t do anything right. Rafe’s hands cupped both of your cheeks and his blue eyes could see the sadness laced in yours.

“Hey, don’t do that.”

He spoke softly, continuing to cradle your face in his hands, staring into your eyes so he’d know you heard every word he was about to say.

“Do what?”

You asked innocently, unsure of whether he was referring to you kissing him or something else.

“Don’t go to the bad place in your head. Everything’s okay.”

You brought your eyes back down to your hands, as he let go of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Can you t-tell me w-what I did wrong?”

Your face became a deepened shade of red and he furrowed his brows in confusion and his eyes softened.

“Baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just-, if we do this when we do this, I want it to be when you’re my girl like officially. I don’t want us to have to guess and I want you to be sure I’m who you want your first time to be with.”

Your jaw dropped at his confession, at his sweet words. You giggled.

“Rafael, who did you think I was saving it for? I’ve been your girl since we were seven years old.”

He leaned in and you followed, letting his lips softly graze yours, breath hitching in your throat at the feeling of him. You felt euphoric as he kissed you with equal parts passion, violence, and gentleness. His hands made their way to your breasts hovering over them a bit too long. He was still afraid to touch you but you needed him to. You growled into his mouth, which sent him into overdrive, all his senses burning for you.

“Wrap your legs around me, love.”

He whispered against your lips. You followed his directions and he stood with you in his arms, turning to place you flat on your back on his bed. He knelt in front of the bed, where your legs hung over the edge, and took your left leg into his hands, gently kissing from your ankle up to your thigh. You writhed under his touch, his mouth being mere centimeters from your core.

“You’re beautiful, y/n. Thank you for letting me touch you like this.”

He whispered out and you gave him a sheepish smile.

“Are you sure you want this?”

He asked sweetly, breathing over the space where your thigh and vagina came together in an attempt to tease you.

“I’m sure.”

You breathed out, hands wrapping themselves in Rafe’s hair, pulling at the golden brown locks. At the sound of your permission, Rafe began kissing at your entrance, rubbing his thumb over your g spot ever so slowly. You wriggled under his large hands, groaning loudly when the sensation of his lips met your sensitive nub over and over.

You’re so utterly lost in the kisses, in the way his mouth feels against you that you almost forget to breathe.

“I’m gonna put a finger in baby, need you to tell me if it hurts, okay?”

You eagerly nodded and became undone as his finger bottomed out inside of you. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

“How’s that feeling, baby?”

“S-so g-good.”

You said, breathlessly.

“Gonna add another, baby. Tell me if it hurts.”

You again nodded as quickly as your head would move. He slid in another one of his long fingers, bottoming out inside of you, letting you adjust before beginning to move them back and forth, picking up the pace and curling his fingers as he felt you clench around his hand, reaching your climax.

“Rafe, I think I have to pee.”

You spoke sheepishly and he chuckled.

“That’s not pee, baby. That’s your body telling you that what we’re doing is making you feel good. You’re about to have your first orgasm.”

He smiled reassuringly and you gingerly nodded, again ashamed at your lack of knowledge and experience. Rafe pulled his fingers out of you and you missed the contact. You let out a tangled whine.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Thank you so much for letting me touch you like this.”

You smiled at his reassurance, running his fingers through his hair as he placed kisses under your belly button, where your largest pump site scars resided.

“I love these scars, baby. I love you so much.”

“I love you, Rafael.”

With no warning, he plunges his tongue inside of your delicate entrance and you feel yourself clench around him, your stomach knotting up once more and your body chasing the high that he was giving you. You hoped what he said was true and that you weren’t about to pee in his mouth, as the damn was breaking around you and the knot within your stomach busted, releasing every feel-good hormone your body held. All you could see were stars as your vision blackened. You looked to Rafe after a moment, your chest heaving up and down. His pupils were blown, desire lacing them.

“How was that, beautiful?”

He questioned, looking up at you with a smirk as he placed kisses over your tummy once more.

“Let’s do it again, but this time, I want you inside me.”

You quipped in a serious tone. You needed him to know you were serious and you wanted him, all of him.

“As you wish, baby. Are you on the pill or do you want me to use a rubber?”

He asked gently.

“I’m on the pill, sweet boy. Thank you for asking, but I want to feel every inch of you.”

He simply nods in response and parts your legs a bit more, throwing your ankles over his shoulders as he positions himself in front of your entrance. You watch him, eagerly waiting for the moment he’s going to be inside of you. He hovers over your face, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Honey-, listen, this is going to hurt a bit, okay? But I promise it’ll feel better quickly. I need you to talk to me through it, okay? I need to know how you’re feeling the whole time.”

“Okay, baby. I promise.”

You smiled brightly up at the gorgeous man hanging his head over you, leaning up to kiss his nose.

“I’m ready, Rafael.”

He nodded and kissed you passionately on the lips, moving down the entirety of your jaw and neck before landing on your breasts, grazing them with his tongue. You sharply inhaled at the new sensation. He gently bit down, sucking at your hardened peak. You groaned loudly, letting him know to stop teasing you.

“Rafe-”

You all but yelled his name, letting him know he was frustrating you.

“Patience. Tell me what you need, baby.”

His voice remained sweet, he sensed your need for him.

“Put it in, already!”

You grunted and he let out a belly laugh.

“Okay, baby. All you had to do was ask.”

He smiled, lining his tip up with your entrance once more and gently pushing in. Before you could even process what had happened, tears leaked out of the sides of your eyes. He was big, much bigger than you had anticipated. Rafe leaned down, wiping your tears away.

“Am I hurting you, angel? You can tell me, I won’t be upset.”

“No, it’s just uncomfortable.”

He gingerly nodded, knowing what you meant.

“I know baby, I’m sorry. It’ll be over soon.”

He gently placed kisses all over your face while he bottomed out and waited for you to adjust to his size.

“Okay, you can start moving.”

You spoke, the feeling of his dick sending you into a euphoric state. Nothing has ever made you feel this good in your entire life. Rafe’s pace quickened as he pounded in and out of you. You felt the familiar knot grow in your stomach and threw your head back.

“How’s it feeling, pretty girl? You’re so pretty like this, baby. Thank you for letting me see you like this.”

“S-so good, Rafe.”

He hit you with another hard thrust, scraping against your sweet spot once more.

“Rafe, I’m gonna cum-”

You gasped.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m right behind you. Go ahead, angel.”

He whispered into your hairline as he leaned down, peppering kisses on your collarbones. The new position let him hit your sweet spot and you screamed out as the second wave of pleasure wracked through your body.

Rafael-, I love you so much.”

You screamed out as he held you, letting you ride out your orgasm. He kissed your forehead as you came down from your high. He pulled out of you, already missing the warmth.

“I love you too, sweet girl. Are you mine?”

“I’m your girl, forever.”

You breathed out against him, letting him run into the bathroom to grab something to clean up with before cuddling into his chest and falling into a blissful sleep.

taglist:

as always, if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please send me an ask or comment on this post so i can keep track!!

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt @allsmilesreally7 @akobx

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron prompt #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafecore #proclivity rafe #proclivity #rafe smut #rafe imagine #rafe <3 #rafe x reader smut #obx rafe cameron

34 notes · View notes

freshlyrage · 1 day ago

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 36

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 4.8k

A/N: This is part 2 of my double update. Here is part 1. This is our 2nd to last chapter my loves. Tell me how you feel!

The sky is dark. Javier has spent three and a half hours negotiating and haggling. He was not going to give up on this place but he was not going to pay six hundred dollars for two nights. Ultimately the women caved and offered him a room for four hundred dollars only if he checked in after ten pm. Apparently some hotshot frequented the place and was giving it up for a day but they were very loose on check out time with the man so he picked up a nasty habit of leaving late each of his stays. The poor lady figured he wouldn’t accept because it seemed like a day wasted but Javier jumped at the opportunity.

His conversation with his father lasted for only ten more minutes before he hugged him and shoe’d him out of the room.

He arrives at Melissa Diaz’s home at 7:15 pm. You're at the door with your belongings. A smile isn’t on your face the way his is, your eyes are dark and you barely get hello out. Your mother and Frankie wave you off while Javi loads the car. The weight of his coat pocket feels heavier.

The two of you are on the road at 7:20. He looks over at you, taking note of your uncharacteristic quietness. Javier’s eyes scan your casual outfit of jeans and a blue t-shirt, he thinks you look lovely. You always do. He can tell you haven’t slept much, still he wonders how he got so lucky. But not even his desire for you can outweigh his discomfort at the state of you– the circumstance.

When Javier received your call asking to be picked up from your mothers home instead of the hotel he hadn’t really thought twice. It’s the holidays, it’s only normal. Javier hadn’t batted an eye at the request but given your brief hello and silence he wondered– “Is everything all right?” Your body entirely turned away from him like an angry child.

Your eyes part from the window and lock with his for a moment before he has to look back onto the road. “Yeah. Why?” It’s blunt and a bit cold and Javier wonders if he’s done something wrong.

He clears his throat, looks at his rearview mirror at a Subaru riding his ass and fights the urge to scoff at the asshole behind him. “Uh–” He uses his signal and switches lanes. “Just because you were at your moms house and you’re kind of quiet.” And you reek of wine, which is fine but all things considered, Javier is worried. He can’t see your change in face but he feels it. You face the window again.

“Me and mom are making things work out. She apologized to me, I didn’t really accept it but y’know I'm giving it a try.” It’s mumbled, and Javier frowns for a moment.

He thinks of the comments he’s heard. He remembers bringing you food on holidays, he held you while you cried speaking of her. His protective bone is alert when it comes to you, and even if it’s an over step he can’t help himself from being skeptical. “That’s good—great actually. How do you feel about it.”

“Good.”

Javier resists the urge to chuckle, you’ve got quite the mood going. “Are you sure? She hurt you quite a bit—”

“Good lord.” You cut him off and shift farther away from him and his heart clenches. You murmur something under your breath and it makes him a little mad. His cheeks heat and he’s officially out of Laredo now.

“What Andrea?”

“What?”

He exhales, a bit frustrated. “What did you say under your breath?” You pivot your body toward him the best you can and your eyes are wild. Javier figures that maybe this has to do with more than your mother.

“Sometimes it feels like you want me to be a mess. That’s what I said.” You snap.

His chin quivers in confusion, hurt. He does his best to look at you then at the road. It hurts him in a spot untouched. You’ve argued, sure, but what's always been clear to each other was your intentions. Or so he thought. All he’s ever wanted is for you to be okay. Although it comes to him as a slap to the face he decides it can’t be what you really mean. Still, he barely can make any words out in his disbelief, you continue, “I just told you that I’m actually getting along with my mother and the first thing you do is question if that’s good for me?!”

You’re nearly yelling and he realizes this is what we’re doing. Arguing, starting off their New Year just right.

Javier brings his free hand to his jaw, scratching the stubble there. He clears his throat again, “That’s a fucked up thing say and I don’t think you truly mean it. Forgive me then for trying to look out for you. Let’s be done with this now, we’ve got five hours on the road. I rather not waste it arguing.” Javier dismisses. Because no, they weren’t going to be this couple. The one arguing the entire trip. The couple being hurtful to each other for no reason. He glances over at you again and your face is hot.

“No—no. We’re going to talk.”

“Talk sure, go ahead Andrea—where is this coming from? What happened at your moms house?”

“Nothing Javi. Nothing happened, it was good. I had a good time and it’s working for me. Are you okay with that?” It’s mocking, your tongue is molten with anger. He’s really wondering what he’s done wrong. He’s been trying really hard.

“Of course and despite whatever spiral you’re obviously going down none of that’s true. I don’t fucking want you to be a mess. I never saw you as a mess, you’re talking to me like I’m some creep you just met that wants to fix you, all I ever wanted was to be with you.” It’s jumbled and heated and he can’t believe he’s saying this right now, ten minutes into your drive. He can’t believe he has to say this, “I thought you knew that.” The second part is whispered and now you’re at a stop light. He looks at you now, you’re facing forward, cheeks stained and lips red from whatever you’ve consumed at your mothers house. He hates it when you cry, he truly does it hurts him bone deep.

The silence is pregnant and he hopes the light never changes. But it does and he’s back looking out at the stretching roads ahead.

“We shouldn’t sleep together tonight. Just be friends while we’re in Houston.” Your voice is shaking, you're trying not to let your tears get in the way of your speech. Javier feels like he’s in an alternate universe. He stays silent not only because he has nothing to say but because it’s given him whiplash. Like a knife digging into his ribs with a pop.

We laid on my bed twenty-four hours ago and spoke of a good time together. Did I misread you? My mouth on your cunt hadn’t felt friendly.

Then it settled in his chest with a light of anger. He debates for a few minutes, he hears you sniffle and he wonders if it’s worth it. But he must speak his mind or it’ll be another six years of these games.

“I feel a bit tugged around by you.” His nostrils flare, the two of you haven’t argued, not like this. He has experience in these sorts of things, the more time they spend in silence, the bigger the blowup.

“H-how?” It’s said in a way that wants to be curiosity but is laden with discomfort.

“I—Andrea. The first night we saw each other I fucked up. I made it seem like I was out living this life of happiness and pleasure when I was really just self destructing trying to cure my loneliness. And—you made your rules—our rules. I wanted to follow them, I wanted to prove— fuck I want to prove to you that I’m ready, that i’m working on myself. And you changed them on me, and I still didn’t—don’t care that you did-” He exhales, knuckles white against the steering wheel. His thumbs flex and unflex. “Well I do care because I want to kiss you and I want to fuck you. I do want to call you pretty in front of your family. I want to spend too many unhealthy hours together, and I want to take you out on dates but I know that we’ve got to take it slow. But then you strip naked in my bedroom or climb in my lap and lay with me and then you tell me we should go back to being friends. It just isn’t fair.”

His voice is steady yet his heart is racing, slamming against his ribcage and he still has four and a half hours left on the road. He looks over at you for a moment, and your face has gone pale.

You’re biting at your lips, and avoiding his eyes. “I’m just trying my hardest to protect myself.” You whisper.

Javier’s brows crumpled, “From me?” He waits with bated breath. Afraid of the answer and it seems like you are too.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What are we doing then?”

“I don’t fucking know Javi!” You shout and he really can’t believe you’re doing this right now.

“Well you knew a lot five minutes ago when you accused me of trying to keep you a mess, so please tell me what you meant by that?” His hand is flailing, and he’s trying his best not to raise his voice at you. He’s not that sort of man.

Something has gotten you riled up, “You—you know my father left me, you know what it did to me and you always leave me—because you know that when you come back I'll have no choice but to fall at your feet. You always keep me at arms length. You keep me burning for you.”

Those were the words of Lorraine, not you. Not you.

You’re stuttering because you can’t believe your own words.

It’s bullshit, it’s all bullshit. You can’t mean any of it, he knows you can’t. It isn’t based in reality, it isn’t the way any of this went down. Yet it hits him in that deep space of insecurity, where he feared. When he would wonder if he was only adding to your damage, if his mistake is making him into his mother and in turn, your father.

“I left you once. Ten years ago, I tried my hardest to make that up to you but you left me too.” He keeps his voice steady, he feels desperate. You weren’t the only person hurt.

“You didn’t want to see me— then we don’t talk and I come back here and we fall so easily into this cycle of hooking up and being sweet and—fuck.” You shout, “It doesn’t fucking matter we just hurt each other too much.”

Javier lets it stay silent, he wants to reach over and wipe your tears away with the rough pad of his thumb. It’s a sort of quiet that lasts too long, long enough for him to think of his future. Scraping snow off a windshield, cooking in a kitchen that is yours— ours. He sees you bitten by the cold air of New York City, he sees himself placing his warm hands on your cheek when you’ve come home from work. You’d lean against his palm and kiss him, you’d have dinner together. He’ll bother you about how badly he wants a baby, you’ll wave him off. Then you’ll sleep in bed together, he’ll work the next day. You’ll both come home around the same time, exhausted still you’ll take off your socks and dance around the kitchen with him. Then you’ll tell him you want a baby too. He would write in his journal about it, about his fears but none of it will include you. You’ll kiss him, a real kiss, every day before work. You’d argue over stupid shit, then apologize and work through it. You’ll be married by July. And neither of you will ever need to want anything else, anything more.

“So do we stop trying?” Please say no, he begs. We can fix this.

“Maybe.” You reply.

I don’t know why I can’t stop hurting myself, You think. I know that none of this is me, I know I’m afraid. Anger is the easiest emotion to release.

Before you left, your mother tells you not to rebel against what you’ve wanted just because you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Maybe you’ll do it yourself and save yourself from this feeling of trepidation.

You don’t talk the entire car ride. The road is dark and you rarely pass through a town, just some homes scattered, small cities and the sound of a truck so old you can’t believe it’s running. You spend the first hour of silence looking out the window, regretting every word out of your mouth. You spend another twenty minutes wondering if he’d accept you if you just apologized right then. If you told him that you’ve never been so afraid, that you’re self destructing. You weren’t yourself, you’ve never yelled at him before. You cry 3 hours after the fight, quietly.

Despite the way you’ve acted when he inevitably hears you he doesn’t hesitate to place his cold calloused hand at the back of your neck. His thumb rubs at the top of your spine. You lean into the touch, and wonder what you’ve done to deserve him. You sit farthest away from him, your body angry at him and your heart wanting to reach over. His fingers stretch into your scalp, you turn to look over at him and the sight is awful.

You get the breathtaking view of the side of his face, your favorite part of him. His strong brow bone, the strong arch of his nose and the soft curve of his lips. His eyes are wet and his cheeks are stained too.

You turn your head back toward the window. You try your hardest not to make any noise when you cry much fiercer than you have before. What have we done to each other? Why did I do this, I didn’t mean any of it.

He eventually moves his hand and settles on the gear after he wipes his cheeks furiously.

He pulls into the drive-thru of a 24 hour Dairy Queen. It’s the first time you've spoken in nearly four hours, “I’m not hungry.” You murmur, and he lets out a sigh.

He still orders you food, and you lick your fingers and share a coke, music plays to fill the silence. You eat the pickles off his burger, he doesn’t ask, he just opens his sandwich for you and you pick them out to eat. It’s like when you were kids and he’d open his McDouble and you’d shift a few feet backwards and he’d throw the pickles into your mouth. In turn you offered him your ice cream and he dipped his fries in your vanilla sundae.

When all is done you ask, “How much do I owe you?” Wiping crumbs off your lap. Javier coughs into his fist and narrows his eyes. Face laced with such disgust as he turns the truck back on.

Once the evening lights of Houston illuminated the car the dread ensued. You prayed you’d be so tired that once you reached the room you’d crash and feel everything tomorrow but as he pulls into the strip of hotels and clubs you feel like a live wire. Ready to burst into flames.

Yesterday you had those thoughts, those baseless fears. Everything's coming together, you are moving on from your father. You are relearning your mother. Your brother accepts you for all that you are.

Then there's Javi, so willing, and open for you. So you punish yourself, you tell yourself you can't have it all. Your twisted brain tells you that maybe he won’t want you when you’re a whole person. Those were the rotten thoughts that plagued you while you were alone on a mattress that wasn’t your own. Having thoughts that don’t feel your own.

He parks in a parking structure attached to an extravagant building, The Auditorium Hotel. Your brows furrow and it comes back to you. When you were eleven your mother took you and Frankie to Houston for the weekend. You remembered this trip clearly– simply because your hair was braided in two french braids that your taxi driver called chic, which made you grin hard. You remembered passing this building, on the corner of Texas Avenue, four blocks from the dingy place your mother rented. She placed a hand on your shoulder, it was a rare touch from her and she leaned over, Rita Moreno stays here sometimes, she whispered to you. Your child heart fluttered, you had completely worn out your mothers copy of West Side Story by age nine. It was a delightful moment, one you couldn’t hold close because the bad outweigh those small moments with your mother.

You wished to stay there, like a celebrity. Like Rita Moreno.

You had a small clipping of the hotel from the paper on your mirror for years. The mirror that had pictures of Rita, Madonna, Hepburn, Stevie Nicks, your lacrosse team, The University of Miami, wedding venues from your mothers Bridal Guide magazine and in that top corner The Auditorium in Houston.

An afterthought by the end of your adolescence, yet still a tiny dream of yours never expressed to anyone. Of course, Javier paid attention. He’d been in your room hundreds of times, passed your mirror many times and sometimes he’d just look at the pictures around it.

It was so like him to make every moment special for you. He held your bags and spoke to the desk worker while you basked in the reality that you were really here. Foreboding being sad in such a beautiful place. Guilt rising to the tongue at the thought of Javier being excited to take you here just to dimmed by your outburst. You looked up around you, basking in the chandeliers and the beautiful ceiling design, eyes panning to the signature velvet carpeted stairs. You had a picture of Rita Moreno on those stairs. You turn to look at him while he converses with the woman at the desk, she laughs at a comment he makes and he smiles, it causes your heart to skip a beat. The prospect of someone making him smile when it’s been long since he has. A bellhop grabs your bags from his side and Javier smiles at him as well.

You observe the expanse of him while he slides his card to the attendant. It’s the first time you've gotten a full look at him today, he’s wearing that brown worn jacket you love and his favorite pair of dark blue jeans. He looks so handsome, it stirs the dread in your belly.

He gives a parting smile to the woman and catches you staring with a pressed lip smile. Holding up a key, he says nothing and beckons you with his head to follow. You do so, in a daze, a haze of loving him so dearly and wondering how to fix this. You can't help but to feel like you’ve really spoiled it all when your elevator ride isn’t filled with kisses and close proximity but a clenched jaw and a frown. Once your shoes are on the lush carpeted hallways you begin to remind yourself of all things that you loved that seemed unimportant to everyone but him. You found it jarring the way truly listens when you speak, you find it heartbreaking the way he tries to learn you without asking. The way he pays attention to things unspoken.

The room is 507, when he turns the key you’re brought to a brightness you weren’t prepared for. The room is far more beautiful than you could have dreamt.

First of all, it’s a suite. You approach a living space with sage green walls and beautiful grey couches, a breakfast nook with a window facing the city. Your breath is caught in your throat, your bags are placed delicately in a corner.

A bottle of champagne placed over ice in a silver bucket at the dinner table. Standing still in the middle of the living room, he walks past you, placing his duffle bag on the table and unpacking a few items.

“I'm going to get ready for bed.” He murmurs before walking past you to shut the bathroom door. It’s nearly a slam and you’re on the verge of collapsing.

You felt as if you were on the cusp of sobbing the entire night away, so you hurried to grab your things for bed. Hoping to be tucked away, so he couldn’t see. You undress in the living room, pulling a t-shirt and sleep shorts on in a rush. You’ve been avoidant before, but you fear you're reaching new levels. Your hands shake as you fold your clothes and place them right back in your bag. You hear the faucet and him coughing, once you walk into the arch leading into the bedroom your stomach flips at the sight of two beds.

You had no choice but to hide from him, to cry into your pillow while he stared at the ceiling. I do want to try, I don’t know what's gotten into me.

With a heavy heart you unravel the blankets and settle into bed. Your head pounds and you know you’ve ruined it all. You can’t cry, no, not until he falls asleep.

Out of the corner of your eye he comes out of the bathroom, he looks at you for a moment. As his gaze roves over your form, under those layers, you watch his eyes look pained. Shortly afterward he gets into his bed.

You shut your eyes but your heart is beating in your ears. You feel warm all over, the wine left your system hours ago so this was new. A sense of panic.

How could it be, that when it's all said and done it was me who got in my own way?

Your chin quivers and it starts off silent because you remember the feeling of sleeping next to him when you were kids. Many feet away, turning over your shoulder to see if he’s fallen asleep yet just to see that he was awake staring at your back. You’d blush and he’d make a face. Then you remember yesterday, your head leaning on his shoulder while your feet touched his low slanting ceiling. How he ran a hand up your calf and made you cackle so hard your legs dropped. You banged your ankle a bit. Beyond his laughter he crawled to your ankle to give it a kiss. You pictured– no you felt– the panic you subjected to yourself when you realized that maybe this will all work out.

A panic based on nothing but the fear of finally being happy. Then you pictured his face, with tears down his cheeks after you pulled the rug out from under him. After he planned all this, after he fought tooth and nail just to have you– and not even that you’ll give him.

You let out an awful sound, no longer silent. Your shoulders shaking, you cover your mouth with your palm. Everyone knew the way you cried, that sort of tear wiping sob that truly felt embarrassing to still do at this age. Never, no matter the argument or how fed up with each you had been. There was never a moment where the two of you were avoiding each other in the same room. Tears stain your pillow, pooling and irritating the skin at the corner of your eyes. It reminds you of the nights you spent after the wedding, those first few months in New Orleans when you just wished he was there.

And now he is, and you’ve ruined it all.

“Andrea, could you please just come to bed?” It comes out as a rasp and your heart sinks at the sound. You blink a few times, wondering if you’ve fallen asleep. You don’t move and he speaks again, “I know you're angry at me but just come lay with me.”

Your heart flutters. Sitting up your hair falls to your shoulders and you look at him through the dark. He’s looking over at you from his empty bed and you can make out the crease in his brow.

You stare at him for a few seconds longer before it begins, the string of words. “I–I’m so sorry, I don’t want to fight with you– I didn’t mean any of it.” You cry, “I don’t know what's gotten into me. I just got in my head–” He’s at his feet with the soft creak of the bed and he’s got you, his hand in your hair while you wrap tightly against his stomach. You wet his shirt the way you did the day he left you, “I ruined-”

“You didn’t, I know you—I know you Andrea. Just come to bed.” His hand runs from your hair down to your back, like he’s ready to gather you in his big hands himself. You move with him and he takes you by the hand, onto his bed. “Please don’t cry anymore, querida.” He whispers while he lifts the sheets to let you in. He follows suit and immediately pulls your body into his.

You disobey his request because you can’t help it, because it’s so like him to give you another chance. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck while he engulfs you in his strong arms, you feel a light kiss at your crown.

“I’ve always known what I want.” You admit. You feel him shift against your body, his hands abandon your waist and come to cradle your jaw, he takes a good look at you with a creased brow and red eyes. “I’m scared now that I’m getting it. I’m sorry I hurt you, you aren’t like my father. And I know you want what's best for me. I fucking ruined this trip” The last part comes with a defeated laugh, it’s late and your head is spinning.

His lips twitch in a frown, “You didn’t ruin anything. It hasn’t even started yet.” Javier’s thumb brushes away a tear of yours. “For what it's worth I didn’t believe anything you said–besides– the part where you said that maybe we should stop trying.” He says it reluctantly, he’s just as scared as you.

“I didn’t mean it,” You rush, “And you’re right, I’ve been a mess since I first saw you on Christmas eve. I keep making these rules I can't seem to follow. It must have been confusing for you.” You knew, somewhere inside that these rules weren't attempts to protect yourself but attempts to get in the way of what you really want.

He looks relieved, “We’ll just be us then, we’ll be careful but we can be us. We’ll figure it out in the New Year?” You nod, your migraine slowly fades every moment you look into his eyes. “I want to have a good time, I want to show you around where I stayed back then.” You brighten up a bit,

“That sounds lovely,” Exhale, you take in for a moment the way it feels to be held by him.

I’d bleed for anyone if they only held me the right way. No, you think, not anyone. Just you.

“This place–”

“I fought that woman at the front desk for hours for this room.” His mustache is a bit overgrown, it bleeds into his smile in a way that is endearing beyond belief.

“I would have been happy anywhere.”

“I did it for you. I do everything for you, I don’t care if that scares you.” He’s unapologetic. You can't help but grin.

“I never told you about this place.” You look down at his chest, you place a hand there.

“You didn’t have to. I passed by that picture for years. I passed by this hotel on my way to work for even longer, I thought of you everytime.”

“I didn’t really know anyone ever noticed that sort of stuff.”

“I do.” He admits and he keeps it at that. You bask in those words and he allows you. You move farther into his chest, all you could smell is him. You wish there was a way to be closer. Be smothered, will have to do.

He whispers something you can’t quite catch. Falling asleep is easier than it’s ever been.

Just the two of you burning.

#javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

26 notes · View notes

lsunstreakerl · 6 hours ago

Note

plz ignore if it's spoilers :)) but I am very curious about Daniel's POV in all of this and especially his relationship with Max. Is there a bit of 'what if?' that he feels? Like, if he didn't break Max's trust by leaving, he might be in the position that Charles is in now? Or disappointment that their dynamic was strictly dom/sub in scene and he never got the opportunity to 'be nice' to Max and have that different level of closeness with him. To paraphrase Taylor Swift said....will he always wonder? He clearly respects Charles and his relationship with Max (and is very happy to be Josh Allen's WAG apparently lmaoo) but, I am thinking that there is a subset of his feelings towards max that aren't just platonic/sexual...is that something Daniel has assessed if it is there?

And, we know Charles is a possessive little freak. Does he feel at all resentful or jealous that Danny got to experience these things with Max first? That Max was able to open up to Daniel sexually like this but kept it reserved with Charles. Or is the knowledge that at the end of the day Max chose him and is his forever person enough?

For the record, you have awakened a monster with these questions, because I have been waiting for someone to ask about Daniel. Heartbreak highway ahead.

I was planning on going a little bit more in depth in chapter six, but these aren't technically spoilers for the fic. if you're interested in reading it organically through chapter six and the eventual updates to the maxiel prequel, don't keep reading. :)

Daniel and Max are soooooo complicated in the Search History universe. (spoilers for 09000767)

- it's blatantly clear to the RedBull garage that Max was not raised right, or with much love in the home, and the way he throws himself into events and parties and PR events, the way he'll do anything if he thinks it'll get him even a scrap of affection, is something the whole garage, especially Daniel, can see. Max is also a minor when Daniel meets him, so he's not thinking of him in an intimate way at all- he thinks Max has a bit of a puppy love/hero worship thing going on.

- Daniel even jokes with Christian in 09000767 that he's "too responsible about his victory sex to be a father". He views a lot of both his and the garages earlier interactions with Max as raising him, or in the fic they describe it as teaching him how to be a person.

- unfortunately, when all your development happens in a sport like F1, shit gets complicated fast, so Max ends up with some heavy dependencies on bad habits when he's 18/19. (he drinks, he does drugs, he does both at once) Daniel only picks up on this when Max starts really spiraling.

- Daniel steps in to pull Max out of his spiral, and the whole thing is a moral grey area, because what Max needs at that point is professional help, but Daniel doesn't want to tell the team because Max will get kicked out, and Daniel (rightfully) assumes that would be the worst possible thing for Max at the time.

- Max, at this point, has really only been around Jos. He doesn't handle softness or tenderness, and he'll butt heads with anyone and everyone, so Daniel is kind of backed into a corner- to take care of Max, he needs Max to listen to him, to make Max listen to him, he needs to be firm. He doesn't necessarily want to treat Max that way, but he's picking up on the way that Max isn't really capable of looking out for himself, and that he needs someone to step in and tell him what to do.

- Daniel ends up taking Max back to a small place he has in Australia, which is where the dom/sub thing starts, and it's a very slippery slope for the two of them. Daniel starts kind of micro-managing for the two of them, because he notices Max does well with that, and it's clearly making some kind of progress. He tells Max when they eat, when they sleep, when they workout. He's washing Max's hair, portioning his food, and he's constantly watching him.

- Max gets his wires crossed (Daniel is taking care of him and telling him what to do) and starts unintentionally slipping into subspace. Neither of them realize that's what's happening for a while.

- for my 09000767 readers, the first time Daniel gets Max off he's not even really touching him in a sexual way, he's massaging his muscles after a run, and Max is young and on a hair trigger so Daniel kind of just. lets him. He notices what's happening and doesn't explicitly stop it, because he's mentally decided: "If Max needs his positive verbal enforcement to also come with the positive chemical reinforcement an orgasm gives, Daniel can do that."

- Daniel has mentally told himself that if Max makes it a sex thing for himself that's okay, but Daniel's not actually going to fuck him, which leads to a lot of situations where Daniel is talking Max through it, telling him what to do or what not to do, and Daniel doesn't really think about it a whole lot, beyond the fact that it's helping and it's progress and it means Max has a chance of being okay.

- Daniel doesn't really recognize it as a dom/sub thing until Max starts really dropping with him, and even then he's not super informed, he's just like "this seems more intense than it's supposed to be". When he looks it up and starts learning, he realizes they've been doing it all wrong, so he puts a lot of effort into learning how to do it right.

- one of the things Daniel tells Max to do in 09000767 is come up with less destructive coping mechanisms, and Max ends up saying one of them is subbing for Daniel, so they end up still doing it, even when Max is pulled out of his nosedive and ends up doing better.

- throughout this entire thing, Daniel is aware that what he has with Max is not healthy, and it's foundations are inherently wrong. He's always telling himself he won't go further, and every time he still does, and he also is well aware that Max has never actually had a relationship before.

- Daniel recognizes that Max would let him do anything to him, and he fundamentally feels wrong about the whole thing, especially because when Daniel is actually with someone, he wants to be nice to them, doesn't always want to have to be firm, and he feels like he needs to be that way with Max.

- Daniel is also aware of Charles, and pretty much everyone except Max has always been able to tell that the two of them are special, that they really mean something to each other. He kind of has a feeling the whole time that Max is going to end up with Charles, it's inevitable.

- Daniel gears his time with Max more towards learning healthier things, but he's never really tender with him the way he wants to be, because he and Max are never going to get to be that way, and who is Daniel to get in the middle of that?

- Max is convinced that he loves Daniel, and that's just another reason Daniel knows their relationship is wrong, because Max doesn't know what love is yet, and Daniel knows it. So he breaks Max's heart, and he leaves Redbull. Leaves Max.

- when Daniel goes to Renault, he leaves Max behind, because it's a lesson Max needs to learn. (and also, because Redbull needs a primary driver, and Redbull loved them both, and you can't have that in a team. The team cannot love both and succeed at the same time, something has to give, and Daniel has only ever wanted the best for Max. Daniel knows how to learn a team, how to adjust, but Max will never be able to thrive anywhere but Redbull.)

(Max's first real heartbreak is Daniel's final act of love. He will never see that.)

(Charles can.)

- Charles enters the grid and can immediately tell Max and Daniel have something going on, because he's never seen Max like that with anyone, but he doesn't particularly care at the time, too busy with racing and trying to impress Ferrari, and as long as Daniels not trying to claim he's Max's rival they have no problems.

- obviously, the entire grid can feel the tension when Daniel leaves Redbull, and no one really talks about it, buts it's an unspoken thing. Max closes off a bit to the other drivers, although he goes home with people at parties a lot, though it starts to really taper down right before covid hits anyways.

- when Charles and Max first get together, Max assumes that they're strictly hookups for several months, doesn't realize until they're out to dinner and he asks why Charles is bothering, he could've just invited him to his hotel room.

- Charles then assumes Max's last partner treated him like absolute shit, and he's furious about it, before Max catches on, and Max is mature enough (mostly) to look back at his situation and recognize it for how complicated it actually was, and they have a whole conversation about it.

- Charles realizes midway through the conversation that Daniel really did love Max, and he realizes at the same time that Max will never see that, will only ever see Daniel leaving him.

- Charles has some moments in Search History where he realizes Daniel still loves Max, might always love him just a little bit, and he can't find it in him to be upset or angry about it, because what Daniel did for Max to help take care of him Charles can never repay him for.

- in 1+1+1, if Daniel wasn't also dom'ing Charles, it might've been a problem, but instead it's a genuine three way thing for that weekend, and it also gives Charles a slight peek behind the curtain, at the way Daniel wanted to love Max, the way he can't.

- "It is very easy, being sweet to him." "Yeah. It is." This right here is the entire summarization of Daniel and Charles' relationship. Charles stating it like a fact, like the sky is blue, because it's something he gets to do, as easy as breathing. Daniel stating it like a jail sentence, because it's something he never got to do, and never will, it's a reminder of something he'll always wonder if he could've handled better, something he'll never get to have.

If you read all that and you're thinking "fuck you Sunny, that was way angstier than it needed to be", here is your consolation prize:

- Daniel does eventually end up with someone in a healthy relationship, where he gets to treasure them the way he wants, and he gets loved endlessly in return. (no spoilers.)

Anyways, that was definitely more than you were asking for, but I've been sitting on it for weeks <3

#search history verse #(is three)#09000767 #surprise! daniel angst!

21 notes · View notes