#not at all nooo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

palioom · 2 years ago

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say my name (javier peña x f!reader)

summary: after along day and many setbacks at work, you invite an exhausted javier over to a drink at your place. but you both have more than just a drink on your mind. pairing: javier peña x f!reader word count: 7.6k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but a lot of nicknames); smoking & drinking, swearing (lots of swearing), rough sex, some choking, biting, some spanking, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, teasing because javier is an asshole

• masterlist •

It was late at the DEA headquarters, the clock almost striking midnight, and yet, some few offices were still lit brightly, the fluorescent lights buzzing above the occupants. In one such office, two people were still buried in heaps upon heaps of paperwork, the air stale from the copious amounts of cigarettes smoked as they worked, the ashtray about to overflow.

They were all Javier’s, the stress of the day having him smoking one after the other, as if his life depended on it.

At this point, it might as well.

She sat at a table not too far away from his, head in her hands as she looked over photos and transcripts, trying to find something.

Something that would help Peña and Murphy to catch another narco. Another sicario.

Maybe even Escobar himself.

She was tired, so damn tired, a good gallon of coffee or two pumping through her veins. Coffee, just because she wasn’t about to get fired for drinking on the job.

Though, with the amount of trips people took to the file rooms or bathrooms, the not-so-secret turns of bodies into a corner before their head flew back, a little silver glint here and there. Yeah, she wouldn’t even stand out trying to cope with this job through alcohol.

All while this wasn’t even her job.

Not truly, at least.

She was here to assist the two agents in their hunt, having been delegated to desk duty after she had been injured and declared unfit for field work years back.

But that didn’t mean she was expected to stay here for more than half a day, killing her eyes and her sleep along with her personal life and, god knows what else, while looking at these damn papers and chugging coffee as if it was the elixir of life.

To some, it probably was.

The words didn’t even make fucking sense anymore and she wondered how long she had been rereading the same paragraph for.

Hell, how long had she tried to make sense of the first three words of this damn sentence already?

No, this was a personal thing for Peña. Having started off rocky, his cocky and flirtatious attitude colliding with her loud, easily irritable mouth, they had formed some form of friendship over their time together here.

That had taken some time and effort, though.

He kept her sane with his no-nonsense mouth, so far away from her family back in the States that she wasn’t allowed to talk about anything with.

And she kept him out of trouble as much as she could.

Which sometimes meant she took the blame for some of his blunders. Or those of Murphy.

They weren’t exactly just a few blunders.

God, she hated them sometimes.

Looking over at Javier, he didn’t seem to fare much different from her; cigarette in one hand as the other one rubbed his temple. He looked fucking exhausted, worse so than her, probably. Which was no wonder, given he had been out there hunting Escobar today, he had been out there and had him slip right through his hands.

In a way, it was her fault as well, not finding the clues to his whereabouts and plans quickly enough and then puzzling them together wrong, infecting everyone with her falsely constructed theory.

Escobar had escaped by mere minutes.

The talking-to she got from Messina had been fucking awful. Not even Peña had tried to argue.

She had been beating herself up all day over this, trying to do better on a new pile of intel, trying to recall all the mistakes that could have led to her fucking this up so hard and finding a way to avoid them. It probably was part of the reason she had stayed even after Murphy had thrown in the towel, citing Connie as to why.

That, and because she wanted to help Javier out, somehow. Maybe even look after him.

God knows he needed someone to do so.

“You good, Peña?” She asked, squinting at him. These horrible lights had her eyes hurting, bringing a small headache with them.

He looked up at her, eyes tired and taking a drag of his cigarette. “I’m fine, hermosa. You?”

She still hated these flirtatious nicknames.

“Don’t lie to me, Peña.” She responded, rubbing a hand over her face as she leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs. The rhythmic ticking of the clock had her glance over at it for a moment before looking back at him. “You look fucking awful. Think about calling it a day yet?”

Javier shook his head, brows furrowed as he exhaled the smoke. “There’s gotta be something we missed.” His brown eyes darted back down to the paper in front of him, flying over the small, black letters.

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest with an annoyed glare. That was the one thing she hated about him, still, besides his attitude.

That tendency to work himself into the grave if need be.

“Javi.” His name only earned a small hum as he kept looking over the paper, so she repeated it again. She only really used this version of his name when she was serious. “Javi. Look at me.”

He did, eyes finding her face again with raised brows.

“What?”

There wasn’t even an attempt to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“You’ll work yourself into the ground if you keep this up.” The sternness in her voice was underlined with a hint of concern. When he tried to protest, she didn’t even acknowledge it. “Wanna give these fuckers out there a reason to celebrate? You need a fucking rest.”

A moment of silence.

“I know you can’t even fucking comprehend the words in front of you anymore.”

He sighed. A hint of defeat.

Arguing with Javier Peña wasn’t exactly easy. The agent always had a response to everything, needing to have the last word.

Stubbing out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray, he let his head fall into his hands, rubbing both of his temples with a groan. “We’ll never get him if we stop now, hermosa.” He said, voice rough. It wasn’t hard to overhear just how exhausted he was, it took an idiot not to notice.

“We won’t get him either if we drop dead from exhaustion, Javier.” There was a harshness to what she said, the words coming out rougher than she had intended them to. It was the only thing he ever really heard, though. “I’m asking you to stop for tonight, not to blow all of this off indefinitely.”

Javier didn’t respond, still rubbing his temples. With the way his hands were positioned she couldn’t see his face, so she wasn’t sure if he was thinking about her words or just ignoring her.

There would be hell if he ignored her now. “I’m worried about you, Javi.”

Maybe the caring approach would help, she knew he reserved a soft spot for her deep under those way too tight shirts of his. Even if he didn’t want to admit it. “Let’s call it a day, it’s almost midnight. Join me for a drink at my place, then go home. Or stay. I don’t care.” Another moment of silence.

“You only wanna hitch a ride.” He said, a smirk evident in his tone even if she couldn’t see it.

It made her chuckle, “Yeah, maybe.”

He sighed deeply, lifting his head and looking at her with the smirk he had been hiding, his eyes twinkling a little as he lifted an eyebrow briefly. “Alright, let’s pack up.”

Thank God it worked, she sighed internally, still smiling as she packed her few belongings and put them in her purse. In quick movements she had gotten up and grabbed her leather jacket off the back of her chair, happy to get out of the stale air of the office.

“You can be quite convincing, sweetheart.” He chuckled, fishing another smoke out of the box in his shirt pocket. If the narcos didn’t kill him, it sure as fuck would be those things. “Gotta admit that. Too bad you’re not doin’ field work anymore.”

She rolled her eyes, walking down the long corridor alongside him, trying to keep up with his long strides. A million times she had told him to lay off the flirty names at work, else someone could get the wrong impression.

It wasn’t difficult not to, with his reputation.

It didn’t help that she was attracted to him, brushing off his attempts over and over again because she didn’t want to be another girl under his belt. Not that she’d ever tell him that, instead just feigning a lack of interest, which he always responded to with a stupid comment of his.

“Peña.” She warned, raising a brow as she looked over at him. “Stop calling me sweetheart, Javier. Someone’s gonna get the wrong impression, I told you.”

Javier chuckled again, putting away his lighter. “Why not, sweetheart?” A smirk stretched the dark mustache wide over his lips, looking down at her in forged innocence, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “What wrong impression could they get, baby?”

A long groan escaped her, grinding her teeth together as her jaw flexed.

He’d be the death of her.

“No ‘baby’, either. Fucking Christ, Javier.” Rubbing a hand over her face, she sighed in annoyance, eyeing the exit just a few feet away from her. “Because people will think that we’re fucking. There’s enough gossip as is.”

The thought of calling him something as equally as embarrassing had crossed her mind many times, names ranging from ‘hot stuff’ to ‘goober’ to ‘lover boy’. But something told her he’d just find it amusing as hell.

“Alright, alright. Don’t wanna taint your reputation, princess.” Javier conceded, the smirk on his face growing wider as he saw her face go red, eyes narrowing as she let out another annoyed groan. It was so easy to get under her skin.

“You motherfucker.” She grumbled, giving him a playful shove as his arm wrapped around her shoulders for a moment, pulling her against him with a laugh.

The car ride to her apartment went by mostly in silence, some slow Latin songs playing on the radio, the streets empty. She looked at him as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging out the window, eyes fixed on the road. It was a wonder he could still drive, as tired as he looked, bags under his eyes, hair disheveled.

He looked so different when he didn’t think he was being watched, still his stern self but he was more relaxed, looked more open. It was what she often recognized in herself, that need to overplay how he really felt, deep inside.

It didn’t make him less attractive, though. Especially in the flickering lights passing by them. Highlighting the way his forearms flexed as he turned the wheel, the prominent veins on the back of his hand.

His lovely, big nose, thick mustache and those fucking plush lips.

What they’d feel like on hers?

Javier caught her staring, looking over at her with a smirk, thumb of his free hand swiping along his bottom lip. “Like what you see?”

She groaned, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. “Fuck off.”

“Gotta have a reason for starin’.” He added, dark eyes moving back to the road but finding great joy in her reaction. “Thinking about more than just a drink?”

“Lord help me.” She sighed, a hand running through her hair, seeing him round the corner to pull into the parking lot of her apartment complex. “No, I was thinking about asking you to stay the night.”

Seeing his smirk widen in the corner of her eye, she realized that she had only given him another thing to jump on, quickly adding, “You’re tired, I know it won’t be just one drink and I can’t let you drive any more in this state, fucking hell.”

Parking his Jeep and turning off the engine, he looked over at her, squeezing her knee briefly.

Why was he always so goddamn touchy?

His warm hand made her heart skip a beat.

An amused twinkle laid in his eyes. “If you say so.”

“I hate you.”

Her eyes narrowed, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“You don’t.” Unbuckling as well, he opened the door. “C’mon, princess, let’s get inside.”

“Thin. Fucking. Ice.” She growled, exiting the car and walking off.

Inside, she threw her purse and jacket on a kitchen chair, opening the top buttons of her dark blouse while Javier made a beeline straight to the kitchen cabinet he knew housed her alcohol.

She had been itching to open this damn collar all day, the Colombian heat doing her in, but she was worried about the leering stares of other agents. So, she had sweat and suffered in silence, fanning herself with anything in her reach, glancing at Javier who could just walk around with practically his entire shirt undone, not worrying about a damn thing.

The display had made things a little more bearable, at least.

Fuck, she really wasn’t better than any of the men, was she?

“What d’you want?” He asked, taking her out of her thoughts. As if he didn’t already know the answer. “Wine? Or whiskey?”

“Bold of you to offer me the contents of my cabinet, Peña.” She laughed, leaning on the counter top of the small kitchen island. “I need a whiskey.”

Closing the cabinet doors, he twisted the cap off the Jim Beam, pouring each of them a drink. She watched him, his back turned to her, seeing his muscles move under the tight, tan shirt.

In a way she was grateful not to do any field work anymore, she probably would have problems concentrating if this was her view all day, his short sleeved shirt half undone, sweat glistening on his neck and chest as he handled his gun.

It made her feel hot in more ways than one.

Damn, she needed that drink badly.

Turning around, he handed one glass to her. Holding his own into the air, he said, “To catching these bastards.”

She raised her own, cheersing him. “To catching these bastards.” She echoed, downing the dark liquid in one gulp, grimacing as the burn traveled down the back of her throat. A warmth settled in her stomach, spreading through her body almost instantly and letting her relax a little.

If only there wasn’t another familiar heat, settling deep in her abdomen as she watched him take a sip.

“C’mon.” She said, rounding him to grab the bottle of bourbon, walking into the direction of the living room. “Let’s sit on the sofa a little.”

Javier stared after her, taking one more sip as he shook his head before he followed, watching her flop down into the soft cushions with a content sigh, kicking off her shoes.

“My type of woman.” He chuckled, finishing his glass and sitting down next to her, taking off his shoes as well. There was a small distance between them, not big enough for another person to fit, but to leave each of them a bit of space. “I’m actually quite surprised you can finish a glass of whiskey that quickly, hermosa.”

He set his glass down on the small coffee table in front of them, throwing his pack of smokes down next to it after he fished them out of his shirt pocket. “I wouldn’t be able to say the same about most girls I know.”

“Whoa, totally not sexist at all, Peña.” She laughed, pouring them both the second round of whiskey before leaning back into the cushions with a shake of her head. “It’s all practice, drink enough of this stuff and anything is possible, you should know.”

“Practice.” He scoffed, raising a brow and leaning back as well, his drink untouched. “This isn’t practice. You’re a special one, sweetheart.”

She shrugged her shoulders, looking at him with a smirk as she brought her glass to her lips.

“A woman who can handle her liquor,” Javier mused, looking right at her, “I wonder what else you can handle.”

The whiskey burned as she choked on it, coughing hard as some of it shot up her nose.

Fucking hell, he couldn’t be serious about that.

She wiped away the liquid that had spilled down her chin with the back of her hand, still sputtering. “What are you implying?”

There was a playful twinkle in his eyes, watching with amusement as she tried to regain her composure, her cheeks flushing red. It was adorable in a way, different from how she quipped when surrounded by people at the headquaters.

“I mean liquor, guns, maybe...” He laughed, an arm coming to rest on the back of the sofa as he leaned back against the arm rest, legs opening slightly. There was a brief moment where he caught her stare traveling down, right to the middle of his tight jeans. “What else would I be implying?”

Of course he caught her staring.

“Knowing you, it could be anything.”

God, he was teasing her relentlessly today, unsure if the alcohol made her cheeks flush crimson or the way he looked at her, that stupid smirk of his always on his handsome face. Him spreading his legs like that must’ve been on purpose, too.

One of his stupid flirting attempts. He couldn’t even stop when he was on the brink of collapse.

Leaned back on her sofa like this, alcohol in his system, he seemed to come alive a bit. Features still tired but some energy in his brown eyes now.

He chuckled, grabbing his glass and this time he was the one to knock it back all at once, grimacing only the faintest bit at the burn, a low hiss leaving him. “My mind’s still on you downing that glass. It’s hot, cariño.”

Javier leaned forward now, definitely intruding in her space. Eyes flickering down to her open collar, they lingered for just a little too long, trying to make out what she was wearing underneath.

He’d be damned if she was fucking naked under this.

That thought made him strain against his pants, shifting his hips.

He subconsciously licked his lips as he looked back up into her dark eyes.

They were pretty, he thought, looking back at him with a mix of uncertainty and something that he would describe as lust. The blush on her cheeks was clearly visible now, a broad hand coming up to brush his knuckles over one of them before moving to put some strands of hair behind her ear. Then, it landed on her thigh, squeezing it.

“You know what else is hot?”

He could feel the shiver running through her, the breath hitching in her throat at the question. At the touch of his hand.

She was a goner.

Despite that, she just looked at him with raised eyebrows, trying to play it cool, hoping he couldn’t see her heart beat in her throat.

Why the fuck did she opt for the whiskey? The way he looked at her made her feel way too hot, that heat in her abdomen spreading through her veins into every part of her body.

She could feel the wetness between her thighs.

“No, what is?”

She hoped she sounded as calm and collected as she wanted to sound.

In reality, she didn’t. Javier picked up on it immediately.

“You, hermosa. You know that, right?”

His eyes were fixed on hers, the hand on her thigh coming up to her face again, brushing along her lower lip now.

He had noticed her stares in recent times, glued to him when she thought he hadn’t noticed. The way she practically ate him up, undressed him, her dark eyes roaming over his exposed chest and arms. How she had looked at his hands, even if he was only twirling a pen in it.

How they flitted away when she felt caught, almost managing to look collected and innocent.

Almost.

Javier had been right to assume her excuses of no interest had been bullshit. She was just playing hard to get, much to his frustration.

He’d had an eye on her ever since they met, and as much as he tried to tell himself that she was just pretty, just a loud mouth he would like to shut up, as he fucked someone else, his mind always came back to her.

Even when they got closer, he couldn’t shake the thoughts of what she’d sound like moaning his name as he pounded into her.

Often he had felt guilty about that.

Now, he was sure she had done the same with him.

And if she wasn’t interested in him? If she was just reacting to him the way she did right now because she was exhausted and the alcohol addled her mind? Then this was just a fun, little flirt.

Something she would groan at him for now, curse at him for later, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“Getting quite red, cariño.” Javier chuckled when she stayed silent, leaning even closer. “Where’s that mouth of yours?”

She really didn’t know how to respond, mind blank save for the thoughts about how inviting his lips seemed.

Looking down at her drink for a moment before looking back up at him, she sighed.

Fuck it.

Turning her face away just briefly enough to knock back the glass of whiskey, she set it down on the table with a loud bang before surging forward and kissing him hard, hands cradling his face.

His hands fell to her hips and he pulled her closer, kissing her back hungrily, drawing a moan out of her when he bit her bottom lip. Moving away from her mouth, he kissed down her jaw to her neck, biting her pulse point.

“Not interested, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, Peña.”

Pulling him back to her mouth, she heatedly pressed her lips to his again, feeling his fingers dig harder into her hips as she did so.

All the gossip that had floated through the headquarters was true.

Javier Peña definitely knew what he was doing, she thought when his tongue slipped into her mouth.

It sent a jolt of electricity right through her, heat pooling in her abdomen.

She pushed him back firmly to lay down on the sofa, climbing on top of him as he watched with an amused smile, his eyes blown dark. Determination and hunger resided in hers, straddling him and bending down to find his lips again.

Returning to their place on her hips, his hands pulled her down. When her middle ground just lightly into the sizable tent in his tight jeans, she moaned.

He quite enjoyed that noise.

“Is my princess a little angry?” Javier cooed with a cocky smirk between kisses. Using a moment of distraction, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

All to get more of a rise out of her.

“I like this side of you, so dominating. Who could’ve known, hermosa.”

“Don’t fucking ‘princess’ me, you dick.” She growled, breathing hard, lips now moving over his jaw, the slight stubble there scratching her. Finding that sensitive spot just below his ear, she bit into it, smirking when a low groan bubbled in his throat. “Don’t fucking baby me, either.”

Thank fuck for the liquor giving her a confidence boost, as well as bringing back the energy to spar with him.

“Someone’s feisty.” He commented, mouth close to her ear and biting into the lobe. Hot breath fanned over it with every word of his. “Why the change of attitude now?”

“Cause of your cocky ass.” She replied, sitting up to unbutton some more buttons of her shirt before pulling it over her head, revealing a black, lacy bra.

A smug smile creeped onto her lips as she stared down at him, seeing Javier take in her form, his fingers inching just a little higher, the rough pads digging into the bare, warm skin of her hips.

For the slightest moment, his smirk fell, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Finding her eyes, though, it sprung back, a lopsided smirk stretching his mustache wide again.

“You and your fucking mouth, your cocky fucking attitude.” Leaning back down to him, she continued, becoming quieter, but her voice didn’t lose any of its fire. “Your goddamn fucking looks, Peña.”

Mouths back on one another, fighting for dominance, his hands roamed down. Splaying wide over her ass, Javier took a handful and squeezed, really grinding her down against his middle so she could feel him, dragging another moan out of her lungs.

He was fucking hard.

She could feel the self-satisfied smirk against her lips, his mustache tickling her.

Javier truly was gonna be the death of her.

One hand came up to her jaw, gripping it firmly. Not enough to hurt, only to make her feel the strength of it before he pulled her away from him, just far enough to take in her face. “I’m cocky, huh?”

She groaned, struggling against his grip just a little before deciding to give up. Still, she stared right into his eyes, narrowing her own just slightly.

“Yeah, you’re fucking cocky.” It was barely a whisper, but the words still had a bite to them. “You cocky hijo de puta.”

Javier watched her eyes twinkle as she said it, clearly gunning for a reaction from him as a wicked grin stretched her pretty lips wide.

If she thought he’d give it to her this easily, she was sorely mistaken.

“I am, but you love it, cariño.” Pulling her closer to him, his mouth was over her ear again, speaking low. “Admit it.”

His voice sent a shiver down her spine and he watched as her eyes transformed, a fire lighting inside them.

She did like it, feeling how wet she got the more he talked. But she would never admit it.

It would please him too much.

“Jódete.”

A breathy chuckle escaped him.

“Say that again for me.” Javier whispered. “I like the sound of it when you say it like that. It's fucking hot.”

There was no denying that it turned him on, the way she swore and challenged him. His hips shifted slightly underneath her, dick twitching in his jeans.

The tight denim became uncomfortable at this point.

“Jódete.” Every syllable was punctuated firmly, grin still on her face. “You’re such a cocky motherfucker, Peña.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You sure know how to use that mouth of yours.”

His free hand roamed over her back, toying with the clasps of her bra. It was obvious that he didn’t plan on opening it just yet, just trying to rile her up a little more.

Even though he really wanted to see those pretty tits without their confinements.

“I really like that about you, hermosa.”

“You haven’t even seen me use it yet.” She whispered against his lips, fighting against his hand to kiss him hard.

Moving her hands to the small buttons of his shirt, a groan of frustration slipped out of her mouth and into his as she fumbled with them. The more agitated she got, the harder it seemed to grab a hold of them.

Javier enjoyed feeling her struggle, only aiding her when she nearly ripped the buttons off the garment, placing his broad hands over hers. “Need help?”

She wanted to wipe the smugness off his face. That stupid, flashy grin of his.

“Fuck you.” She whispered, lips trailing over his jaw to his neck, leaving marks with her teeth. The small hum rising in his throat was more felt than heard by her, traveling further down to the newly exposed skin, nipping at it. “Fucking bastard.”

Her hands slid out underneath his, exploring his tan chest, feeling the muscles as she moved them down his sides.

Fuck, the glimpse of chest he showed at work really only was an appetizer.

The way his muscles danced under her fingertips as she moved them over his ribs, then down to his stomach excited her, only feeling hotter when she reached the trail of hair vanishing under the band of his jeans.

Javier wasn’t jacked, she already knew that, loving when his stomach popped out over his pants just a little. But feeling the relative softness of it just made her love it more.

“Strange way of saying thank you.” Watching her for a moment, he closed his eyes and craned his neck with a grunt as she sucked a bruise into his chest, placing a firm bite just a few inches away after.

A slap, followed by a sharp gasp echoed in the room, his hands colliding with her ass, a retaliation for the bite.

That definitely turned her on, more heat pooling in her stomach. And he probably felt the involuntarily roll of her hips as well.

She wouldn’t let him know, though.

The daggers she shot at him through her eyes did nothing to diminish the gleeful expression on his face as she sat up straight. That really lit a fire in her, her hands reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra, feeling too confined by the black lace.

“You wanna stay here?” She breathed, sliding the bra off of her shoulders and throwing it across the room. The corners of her mouth curled up as she watched his eyes widen just marginally, tongue flicking out again and his jaw setting. “Or you wanna move it to my bed?”

A beat of silence.

Just briefly, for a tiny, tiny moment, she thought she had shut him up for good. She should have known better than to expect a pair of breasts to silence Javier Peña.

“Your call, princess.” There was that teasing asshole again, one hand wandering up and groping at one breast, chuckling at the weak roll of her hips. The rough pad of his thumb brushed over the hardened peak and he wanted to frame the sight of her as she threw her head back, neck exposed and hair falling over her shoulders. “I’m down for whatever, so lead the way. Take command, show me what you’re all about.”

He also wanted to frame the sight of her as her head rolled forward again, piercing right through him with the determination and heat in her eyes.

That fucking nickname really spurred her on.

This was a challenge now.

“Fuck. You.” She breathed heavily, moving so she could reach his belt. Opening the metal buckle, she worked on the button of his jeans next. “What I’m all about? I’ll show you what I’m all about, Peña.”

Wrenching the fabric open, she let her hand glide in, wrapping her fingers around his cock, finding him hard and leaking as his hips jerked up into her touch. “You’ll say my name like a fucking prayer when I’m done with you, asshole.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw set. The feeling of her fingers was incredible, and he had to restrain himself from fucking into her fist when she moved her hand. If she wanted a challenge, she would get one.

“Yeah? You gonna make me say your name?” Javier breathed, hands moving to unbutton her pants. “Pretty sure it’s the other way around, sweetheart.”

He pulled on the denim, movements rough. He was aided by her as she took her hands away from his cock and shifted so he could yank them down her legs before throwing them to the side, followed by her black panties.

When she went to remove his jeans, however, one of his hands twisted into her hair, yanking her down and against his lips, tearing a surprised moan from her which he used to slip his tongue into her mouth.

In any other scenario, she would have loved to simply give in to him, letting him manhandle her and fuck her into the couch. But right now, she was much too proud, much too determined to shut his cocky mouth up than to give him control.

She’d show him who was the boss here.

His free hand slid between them, a finger gliding through the lips of her cunt, finding her soaked. Her hips stuttered, moaning again when he ghosted over her swollen clit.

“Yeah, you’ll show me?” He mocked, applying just the faintest bit of pressure and watching as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. What a fucking sight. “With a pussy this wet for me already?”

There wasn’t a chance in the world she would get him to submit, hearing her moan after barely being touched. Maybe he should let her try, it would be fun to see her exhaust herself at the attempt.

He bet she would crumble not long from now, even if he enjoyed this back and forth massively.

“Fucking show me, then.” Letting go of her with a push, he leaned back, putting his hands behind his head and looking up at her expectantly. “Go on, hermosa.”

She sat up, breathing hard. Seeing him like this, laid back and relaxed as if this didn’t even faze him at all - as if he was on fucking holiday at some beach and enjoying the sun - it only made her angry, determined to get him to break.

“You smug motherfucker.” She whispered.

Moving off of him, she pulled down his jeans hastily, underwear coming off with it, suppressing a groan when she straddled him again, feeling his cock slide through her folds. She braced herself on his chest, breasts pushed forward and rolling her hips so she slid over him, just teasing him with a smile.

It seemed to do more for her than it did for him, though. He didn’t even take his eyes off her face, even though she knew he really wanted to watch her pussy get his cock soaked.

Javier barely fucking reacted at all.

His stubbornness was admirable, she had to give him that.

As much as she wanted to continue to tease him, trying to draw him out somehow, she was also reminded of her own need for him, clenching around nothing when the head of his cock nudged against her clit.

Biting her lip, she reached down, positioning herself so he was lined up with her and slowly sank down on him, watching his reaction.

A tiny crack showed in his self control, his teeth grinding together as he felt how tight she was around him, brown eyes flicking down to where she was sinking down on him.

The sight of him spearing her open was mesmerizing.

“Mierda.” It was so quiet she almost overheard it, her mind dizzy from how fucking good he stretched her open, clenching around him when he was buried all the way to the hilt.

“Fuck, you’re huge.” It slipped out of her in a breathless whisper, mentally scolding herself for saying it out loud and hoping he hadn’t heard.

No need to stroke his ego more.

But he had heard, his eyes moving back up to hers, mustache stretched wide over his lips once more.

Fuck.

“I am, huh, baby?” Javier grinned, arms still behind his head, biceps tensing. “A nice, huge cock to stretch that tight pussy of yours open. You like that, hm?”

Of course she fucking liked it. Growling in frustration as she grit her teeth, she threw her head back, looking at the ceiling. His words only made her cunt pulse around him, hating that he would feel it, too.

Slowly, she lifted herself up, biting her lip to stifle a moan when she had almost moved off of him before sinking all the way back down.

She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her, too.

“C’mon, baby, where’s that mouth of yours?” He nodded at her, brows furrowed in mock concern. Feeling her pulse around him amused him, but he really needed to hear her fight back.

So, he put himself into the game, one hand gripping her hair again to bend her down to him, lips almost touching while the other grabbed her hip so hard it would leave bruises.

Oh, she liked that, too.

“Tell me you like it, baby.”

“Fuck you.”

His grip tightened, hips thrusting up into her. It took her by surprise, jolting forward with a loud moan, and Javier pushed her hips down onto him again, giving her no way to escape.

“That really all you can come up with?” He set a harsh pace, meeting every thrust of hers, pushing himself all the way in.

“Shut your fucking mouth, cabrón.” She could feel him twitch inside her, smiling breathlessly when she realized that he seemed to enjoy the bit of Spanish she had picked up from working here. “Don’t wanna hear your fucking voice unless you start chanting my name.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that left him. “Your pussy’s telling me somethin’ different.”

His hand left her hair, moving to her hips as well as he accentuated his words with a harsh snap of his hips, pressing her down into his lap when their lips met again and he swallowed her sounds.

He controlled the roll of her hips with his hands, feeling her struggling against his grip. Right now, he just wanted to break down her resolve, make her call out for him.

A sharp slap on her ass almost got him what he wanted.

“Ja-” She cut herself off before his name fully slipped out, head dropping to the crook of his neck and stifling the moan bubbling in her throat as she sank her teeth into the skin there which only earned her another slap.

Shit, she was close. At this point, she wasn’t sure if she had bit off more than she could chew.

He seemed absolutely solid, so in control of himself while she struggled, hard.

“C’mon, princess,” he grunted, punctuating the nickname with a snap of his hips, “that’s it, pretty girl, you almost had it. Just say it.”

The mocking strengthened her determination as much as it made that coil inside her tighten, close to the edge.

Her lips moved along his neck, teeth nipping at his skin in an attempt to drag him closer to the edge as well, her hips grinding down on him harder.

It was working, but he wouldn’t show that so easily.

When one of his hands moved in between them, finding her sensitive clit, aching for friction, a whine slipped past her lips, pussy squeezing him so tightly that a groan rumbled in his chest.

“You’re fucking unfair.” She groaned against his neck, a hand grabbing at his forearm to try and pull him away. It was incredibly hot to her how his muscles and tendons moved below the skin and against her fingers.

“How am I being unfair, baby?” He asked, breath heavy as he bit into her earlobe. The way she gripped his cock was making him break slowly but surely, but he’d never let her win this.

“You’re playing dirty, you bastard.”

Javier chuckled, moving his hand away from her clit to wrap the arm around her middle instead, pinning her against him. Angling his hips, he drove into her harder, the slight change in position making him reach deeper, taking note of how she suppressed a noise.

“Say my name, sweetheart, c’mon.”

She shook her head, a hand coming up to grip his hair. Moving his head to allow herself more access, she sucked more purple marks into his skin.

“Never. Not in a million years.”

She could feel him get closer too, now; his breath labored, grunts and moans catching in his throat. Yet his hips still drove up into her at the same brutal pace.

“You know what I like about you?” He grit out, arm tightening around her. “Your pride’s bigger than mine.”

The hand on her hip gave her ass another smack.

“But I’ll fucking break yours.”

Fucking hell. His words shot straight to her pussy, clenching around him.

“You won’t.” She groaned, feeling emboldened to beat him. “I’ll make you sing my name and if it’s the last thing I do.”

His mouth found her neck, mirroring what she had been doing to him, feeling her pulse quicken as her hips stuttered. He was at the brink of an orgasm himself, surprised by how long she managed to resist him, fighting hard for control.

It only turned him on more, that fierceness of hers, the will to make him break and give in.

Because if she wasn’t the one to give in first and doing so, soon, he was the one to lose this fight, and he really couldn’t let that happen.

His fucking ego wouldn’t allow him to.

So he let go of her middle, and as expected, she sat up just a little, bracing herself on the armrest behind him as she changed the angle, bouncing on his cock. Her tits jumped with every movement, right into his face as her back arched and he couldn’t resist the urge to take one hardened nipple into his mouth, groping the other with his free hand.

She ground into him harder, losing her rhythm as his teeth grazed over the bud, tongue soothing the bite and he grunted, feeling her squeeze him.

“Just say it, you asshole.” She whined desperately, teetering right at the edge but willing herself not to fall over it. It was so damn difficult, his cock hitting all the right spots, his mouth on her breast only bringing her closer.

An idea came to her, one hand wrapping around the base of his throat, pushing him away from her chest and back into the armrest. Sweat dripped down his temples, his jaw set again as she looked down on him with lidded eyes.

He looked so fucking good like this, lust clearly on his features now and that fucking cocky smile gone. Eyes slightly widened at her grip around his throat, only applying light pressure on the sides.

He liked this.

“I wanna cum on your fucking cock, Peña.”

She was right there with him.

“Yeah?” He breathed. “Let me feel that pretty pussy, hermosa.”

His hand left her breast to find her clit again, rubbing tight circles into it with his thumb.

That was all she needed to fall over the edge, screaming his name as she did.

“Yes, Javier!” Her hips stuttered, body shaking as she contracted around him, her orgasm hitting her so hard she saw stars dance behind her eyes when she screwed them shut. “Javi, fuck! Yes!”

Her arm gave out, collapsing against his chest and burying her face in the crook of his neck as the waves kept washing through her.

It was all he needed, too.

Grunting her name, his hips pressed up into her as her pussy gripped him tight, pulling his cock in deep before he stilled, his thumb working her through her waves and his.

The sound she wrangled from him made it sound like he was in severe pain, biting into her shoulder so hard it would definitely leave a distinct mark.

She cried out again, his bite hurting her and his thumb on her clit driving her into overstimulation, grabbing at his forearm. He understood, letting go when she left crescent marks in his skin and wrapped his arm around her middle to pull her close.

Silence filled the room, save for their labored breathing, trying to come down from the intense high. His hand traced mindless circles into her skin.

After a moment, he tapped her hip and she shifted, feeling him pull out with a low grunt. She could feel his cum leak out of her, the feeling so vulgar but intoxicating, already missing the feeling of him inside her.

Moving so she was laying half on top of him, no longer straddling him as their legs entangled, she rested her head on his chest and watched him reaching out for the pack of smokes on the table, fishing one out and lighting it.

He took a long drag, expelling the white mist with a long sigh.

“I won.” He chuckled.

She groaned. For a moment she had completely forgotten about the challenge, enjoying the silence between them.

He really couldn’t stop this cocky attitude for even just a moment.

But did she really care, though? The orgasm had been so great, she almost didn’t give a fuck that she lost to him.

Almost.

“Nice try, though, hermosa.” Javier added and she couldn’t help but smile at the comment.

“Know what, Javi?” She said, pushing herself up so she could look him in the face. A hand came up to brush the damp hair off his forehead, carding her fingers through his dark locks. The fire in her eyes had diminished, replaced with tenderness.

They still held that sparkle, though.

“You fucked me so well I honestly don’t give a fuck you won.”

It was meant to dampen his victory just a little, even if it stroked his ego.

“But you should stay the night more often.” She added with a grin.

Her hand came to rest on his cheek, thumb stroking over his cheekbone.

“Good, cause I’m not sure I can just let this little pussy of yours go.”

He pulled her down into a kiss by her chin, more tender now.

Maybe Javier Peña being a cocky asshole wasn’t that horrible.

Certainly not when he fucked her the way he did.

#javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #narcos #javier peña imagine #javier peña smut #pedro pascal characters #fic #my writing #totally not terrified to share this #not at all nooo #pls be nice lmao

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huginsmemory · 2 months ago

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Ideology of Exceptionalism and Gravity Falls; meta and character analysis

I had a whole ago read a post by @icanlife that had a quote by Alex Hirsch on Ford's greatest flaw, and wanted to explore what the flaw is, which is the ideology of exceptionalism; in the exploration, I’ll touch on what it is and how it is used in abusive relationships and cults, as well as how it drives multiple Gravity Falls characters and consequently how it impacts relationships between these characters, and how the show ultimately refutes exceptionalism.

Quick note here; I am not in any way, shape or form a psychologist nor have any formal training in psychology; this is written from my own experiences with this ideology and my own forays into psychology and trauma-informed learning. It is also written with a loose understanding that is likely not broad enough to cover all references to cults, extremist groups and abusive relationships.

The Ideology of Exceptionalism

First of all, we have to get through a drier bit, which is… what is the ideology of exceptionalism and how does it arise? Might be fairly obvious, but it is the belief that you are, or belong to, a group of exceptional people, thus more important and worth more than anyone else; ie, those who don't qualify as 'exceptional'. It is often a subconsciously learned ideology. Now, what qualifies one as exceptional can be extremely varied; generally it revolves around something that provides some form of privilege. Thus, it might be, as the main exceptionalist idea in Gravity Falls, 'intelligence', or power, or it can be such things as attractiveness, quantity of money one has, species, nationality, or skin colour and ancestral heritage. The ideology of exceptionalism, being by nature hierarchical, devalues, and at its worst, openly and violently dehumanizes those who do not qualify as exceptional.

For why exceptionalism occurs is an extremely broad topic, but I've personally found that, for exceptionalism revolving around intelligence, it's a result of a poor sense of self-worth, and having one's self-worth tied to what makes one exceptional. Poor self-worth itself (again, broadly) is a result of childhood trauma from a lack of positive affirmation and unfulfillment of the emotional needs of the child. Meanwhile, self-worth becoming tied to the quality of exceptionalism generally is a result of when positive affirmation was pretty much solely provided around their 'exceptionalism', especially when provided derogatory commentary, or a blatant example of how they would be treated if they aren't 'exceptional'. As a result of the general lack of affirmation, self-worth then becomes often solely reliant on the qualities of exceptionalism, as that is the only way for the child (and later, adult) to get affirmation of their worth, as well as out of fear of being ‘not worth anything’ like the examples of ‘non-exceptional’ people they have been given.

This is especially likely to occur when the child is a social outcast; the adoption of the hierarchical ideology of exceptionalism, and the devaluation/dehumanization of others often occurs subconsciously as an avoidance/minimization tactic from pain. This is to say, the child, and later the adult (if healthy self-worth is not established) goes 'it doesn't matter what the non-exceptional people say or if they accept me since I matter more than them because of my exceptionality'. It can even be taken further, that being shunned is part of one's exceptionalism, and becomes part of the qualifier of being exceptional. For instance, 'they just can't understand because they aren't exceptional and that's just a part of being exceptional'. This idea also neatly tailors into the part of the concept of being better then others means you are separate from others; this can be taken that someone who is special, needs to be alone to be truly special.

Obviously, exceptionalism is not a healthy coping mechanism for poor self-worth, as often such people constantly feel the need to prove and show off their exceptionalism to gain that affirmation and avoid rejection, which is stressful. As well, it often negatively impacts their relationships with other people as a result of the arrogance of believing that they are better than most others, or even deliberate sabotage due to their arrogance. This occurs as they flatten the complexity of human experience to black-and-white hierarchical categories of exceptional/not-exceptional through constant judgement of those they meet, and often refuse to engage with people who don't belong to their 'exceptionality', or even people they simply don't like, even if they technically qualify. Generally, those that they do like or have close relationships with, often due to being similar, are automatically labelled as 'exceptional'. Those judged as ‘exceptional’ also become privy to the open judgements of ‘non-exceptional’ others, out of a subconscious belief by the exceptionalist that the other believes similarly; something that may strain their relationship if the other doesn’t ascribe to exceptionalism. This all culminates in the exceptionalist being blind or even adverse to the diversity of experiences, which makes it difficult to create relationships and community outside of echo chambers of their own beliefs (if they can even find this), and subsequently, these people are often isolated and have very few to no close relationships with people.

However, all humans require connections with other people, relationships where one can rely on others emotionally and physically if needed and feel accepted; they also require to feel like they are worth something, that their life has meaning. Lacking meaningful connections and having a crippled sense of self-worth, a deep yearning hole is left in these people. Exceptionalism, especially as it is a narrative constantly pushed by Western society as it validates hierarchies, is then employed as a (often subconscious) trauma response to assuage this yearning hole, with arrogance and denial. And depending on the circumstances, it can be a very strong and definitive trauma response for people.

This isolation and lack of self-worth is catnip to abusive relationships, including cults and extremist groups. These types of relationships often heavily rely on isolating their victims or pulling them into echo chambers of solely the abuser’s rhetoric, to redefine what is healthy through gaslighting; as the exceptionalists are already isolated, this makes them extremely susceptible. They also often provide these people affirmation, and in these cases especially about their exceptionalism, thus confirming their self-worth, their 'specialness', while also providing them the connection they have been lacking, either through the cult community or through the abuser’s own presence. These emotional needs, which haven’t been met in a long time, if ever, begin to be fulfilled; something that abusive relationships and cults hinge on, rather than any form of logic.

Ideology of Exceptionalism and Gravity Falls

The main characters within Gravity Falls which are heavily ascribed to exceptionalism would be both Ford and Bill; this characterization deeply impacts the story and their relationships with others (technically the Northwest are another case regarding wealth, but less directly impact the storyline and thus tangential; Gideon also is an example, but as a mirror of Bill). With each of these characters I’ll go into detail within their sections on the way they began to ascribe to exceptionalism, and how it plays out later in their relationships; I will first begin with Ford, then move to Bill. Then, to cap it off, I’ll go into the characterization of Stan and the way Gravity Falls refutes exceptionalism.

Ford and Exceptionalism

Firstly, the quote from Alex Hirsch that kicked this whole baby off, as mentioned previously;

“Ford sees Dipper as someone who’s special like himself. That’s Ford’s great flaw, his arrogance is he believes that there’s special people, and everyone else. That human attachments are actually weaknesses. And the song and dance that he’s giving Dipper right now, is the song and dance that he gave McGucket, back when they were younger… ‘You and me are different, we’re better than everyone else. We have a path that no one else can understand, and only us can do this.’ It’s a very seductive idea for Dipper… Dipper is a smart kid, but Ford’s projecting. Ford loves Dipper because he sees someone who’ll tell him ‘yes’ to everything. Who’ll never challenge him, who’ll do a really insane dangerous mission.”

Very blatantly Alex Hirsch calls Ford out on his arrogance in the belief that he is special, in his belief in the 'lone hero' complex, in his belief in exceptionalism. And really, it should be no surprise that Ford does so, considering the way he's depicted as a social outcast as a child (other than Stan), and the way his parents have been clearly shown to be not particularly emotionally supportive (“I’m not impressed”); they don't provide positive affirmation except for his intelligence (mostly due to the possibility of money making through it…), while also actively comparing him to Stan who is derogatorily ‘not-exceptional’, and ‘worth less’. This all sets Ford’s self-worth up to be fragile, and other than Stan who wholeheartedly accepts him, he is isolated and invalidated; plus, the only other validation he receives is around his intelligence. All very classically fitting the profile for exceptionalism.

Image id: Stand and Ford when they were children, both clearly enjoying each other's company.

Ford’s belief in his exceptionalism catalyzes after the shattering of his and Stan’s relationship. Previously the twins are shown to do everything together, having a very close caring relationship; something unlikely if Ford thought he was better than Stan. Also, when Ford is talked to about his opportunities, Ford looks uncomfortable at the way they talk about Stan as inferior, compared to how he himself is being praised; but in the offer he’s simultaneously finally being validated, he’s being told he’s someone worth something, and he’s going to be someone worth something after this. And then the science fair incident occurs, and Ford loses that validation from his parents, from the judges and a future of more validation; after being promised validation and acceptance, it slips through his fingers. And in his anger of being denied that, it becomes easy to begin to slip subconsciously into the rhetoric the others have been feeding him; that he’s exceptional, that Stan isn’t, and he deserved to be recognized for his worth. So he breaks the relationship with the only person who accepted and validated him for who he is. With that loss of previous support, Ford becomes then deeply obsessed with proving his exceptionalism to the world to assuage that fragile self-worth, to become accepted, or even better, revered, confirming that he is someone of worth, someone special, like he was promised.

Ford’s obsession also doubly functions as a way to alleviate his guilt over shattering their relationship; if he’s exceptional as he believes, then he’s within the right to respond the way he did, as he’s worth more than Stan, he's better off alone, and he has a right to be angry over being denied that validation. As well, in much the same way as it is used as a way to alleviate his guilt over the end of their relationship, it is also likely used in a way to minimize the pain of being ostracized (although not directly depicted); afterall, Ford’s keenly aware and insecure about his social ineptitude and his six fingers as things that make him different from other people, case in point with his experience visiting Lazy Susans Diner. Thus it wouldn’t be unsurprising if he uses the idea of being worth more than those who ostracize him to imply it ‘doesn’t matter�� what they think. His ostracization by nature keeps him from generally forming close relationships, with the exception of Fiddleford (who much like him, is socially outcast, and intelligent) during his university days. As a result, he's isolated and acutely lonely, having lost Stan.

Image id: One of the missing Journal 3 pages in TBOB, detailing Ford's botched social interaction in Lazy Susans Diner. In the background is the print of his six-fingered hand.

In his obsession over being acknowledged, Ford, like many others who believe in exceptionalism, identifies strongly with the causes of his ostracization (his intelligence, his six-fingeredness) as part of, or wholly, makes him exceptional. It is obvious through his choice of study; with the grant he has been gifted, he chooses to revolve his work around the weird, the outcast, something that you see Ford gravitate towards being an outcast and deemed 'weird' himself (which in Journal 3 he openly talks about). Something that can be, much like him, framed as 'exceptional'. His work is even recorded in a journal that Ford deliberately chooses to put his six-fingered hand on the cover of. Intertwined with the way it becomes adopted into the idea of exceptionalism, is the keen loneliness from his ostracization and a deep desire to be accepted and a wish to find a community of other weird people.

Image id: Two pages from journal 3, labelled 'Myself', in which Ford is open about being weird, and a social outcast, while also noting his ambitions and that 'Gravity Falls, [is] the place that I fit in.'

Ford and Bill

All of this culminates in Ford becoming an incredibly easy target to manipulate by Bill. He’s desperate to be acknowledged (and thus accepted) by an authority figure so that his belief in exceptionalism is justified and his self-worth confirmed. And he knows he’s intelligent, that he's exceptional because people have told him so, but he just needs to prove it with something that shakes the world. And the grant is finally his second chance after the fair, but he's stuck, and the research is going nowhere, and he's in a town where he doesn't really know anyone and he’s so terribly lonely. And sure, he clings to his exceptionalism but if he can't even prove it then is he really exceptional? Is he even worth anything like he thought he was? And what about what he's left behind, rejected, because of his exceptionalism?

And THEN he finds an incantation and he ignores the warnings because maybe, just maybe, this will be his break to get that acceptance/validation he has been chasing his whole life?

And then it's better than that.

A god, essentially, shows himself to him, an ultimate figure of authority. And he tells him that yes, he is special, he’s worth more than other people, and Bill’s only showing himself to Ford because he is so much more intelligent than anyone else. Ford is suddenly getting his exceptionalism confirmed by a god of ancient knowledge, an immensely intelligent interdimensional being, and he’s also showering him with affirmations, specifically affirmations around what Ford's fragile self-worth is based on. And even better, he's delighted by Ford's six-fingeredness; he's not put off at all, it even becomes his main nickname for Ford, just like it used to be for Stan all those years ago. On top of it all, Ford's own social ineptitude doesn't phase Bill, another thing Ford is self-conscious about; Bill's own social ineptitude as he's not human probably makes Ford feel comfortable, knowing that's not expected from him.

Through Bill, not only does Ford find someone who validates his self-worth through intelligence and even confirms to him that his weirdness is part and parcel of making him special, he also finds someone who he regularly (generally) is in contact with, who enjoys talking to him and even banters with him familiarly. Hell, Bill even deliberately goes out of his way (literally possessing a whole wack ton of rats, then dream karaoke) to celebrate his birthday with him; how long do you think Ford has simply skipped his birthday since he had no one to really celebrate it with? The loneliness, beneath his arrogance and belief in exceptionalism, is being fulfilled; for the first time since Ford was a teenager, he's fully accepted by someone, social awkwardness, six fingers, exceptionalism and all.

Image id: One of the lost pages from Journal 3 in TBOB, the 'one thing led to another' page, with Bill and Ford singing karaoke and drinking together, both clearly enjoying themselves; Bill has an arm slung around Ford's shoulders.

So it's really no surprise at all that Ford fell for this, hook line and sinker. Hell, if I was in Ford's shoes I would fall for it just as hard. And I've seen a few posts floating around talking about how Bill is bad at manipulating, and no, he's not. He was able to pinpoint exactly what Ford wanted and needed, and provided that, was charismatic enough to provide that. Again, manipulation isn't about logic. It really isn't; it's about the emotional core in people, what people lack and what you can give them to slowly reel them in to sing your dance and song. And people will ignore vast swaths of red flags when you're finally being accepted, when you're finally getting your emotional needs met at least in some way or form. It's better than not having them met at all, such as previously. So Ford worshipping Bill is really not a surprise, especially as Bill deliberately stoked it.

All of this is part of why you see Alex Hirsch call Ford's belief in his exceptionalism his greatest flaw; because it allowed him to be very easily manipulated by Bill, and by its nature kept Ford isolated from others, evident by his arrogance in assuming he knows best and refusing to see other people who aren't as 'intelligent/weird' as him as worth getting to know, listen too and even reach out to ask help from, it's him believing he has to be the lone hero as someone whose 'special'. It's something that blinds him to the danger of his work around the weirdness of gravity falls because he’s desperate to seek a place where he and his weirdness belong, and it's something that plays out in each and every relationship he has because it's something he clings to so deeply. It's what cost him his relationship with Stan, who previously accepted him completely, and, as he's disinclined to form new relationships and as Bill actively strokes his paranoia (Trust No One…), ultimately further increases the hold Bill has over him. It's only Fiddleford’s presence as he works with Ford that allows him some form of outside reference and reprieve from solely Bill’s influence, something that Bill resents deeply and is clearly jealous and angry about, even if Fiddleford is helping create the portal. And it's ultimately Fiddleford, once he was aware enough of what was happening, calls Ford out on it, seriously jeopardizing Bill's influence over Ford; but Ford is too invested in the portal, in chasing his own ambition and caught up in Bill’s manipulation to take him seriously, until the incident with the trial, and Ford beginning to hear other voices then Bill.

Ford’s Exceptionalism and Wider Relationships

Now back to how it plays out in all Ford's relationships; we've already gone over it with Bill's influence, because it made him extremely easy to manipulate, and with his disregard of Stan in favor of validation of his exceptionalism. But Ford, as pointed out by Alex Hirsch, also exerts the ideology's seductive rhetoric to both Fiddleford and Dipper (who look up to Ford) in a similar way that Bill does with him (although there is a difference of it being used intentionally and maliciously, compared to subconsciously and earnestly, even if it is problematic). Ford, with his black-and-white view of exceptionalism, sees both Fiddleford and Dipper as people who are like him; 'exceptional', and so he treats them as such, and uses this rhetoric to coerce them into helping him.

For Fiddleford, the lure is how he can change the world, how he can be finally acknowledged if he helps Ford with the portal. And it works well; he willingly chooses to leave his own work and his wife and young son, to work with Ford. Much like Ford, Fiddleford himself is also a social outcast and regularly presumed less smart than he is, and he��s got a chip on his shoulder to prove himself, to gain acknowledgement and recognition from the world at large. Although Fiddleford has a family which presumes he’s not entirely lonely like Ford is, he also clearly has deep feelings for Ford, some which are hinted to be more than just ‘friendly’ feelings; it is likely the combination of the lure of validation and spending time with Ford, a kindred spirit that accepts him and an old friend/crush, that causes him to agree (afterall, it was Ford who made Fiddleford feel accepted and choose to stay at Backupsmore). And Fiddleford’s not even considered a partner, but rather an assistant to Ford due to Ford's arrogance, and he still drops everything to go! It’s more about their relationship and connection rather than validation, but that doesn’t stop Ford from espousing exceptionalism. And this is a distinguishing difference, because although Fiddleford would like recognition, he’s not there solely because of it; he’s not a believer in exceptionalism nor arrogant about his skills, and so, unlike Ford who is blinded by his obsession, he’s much more aware of the dangers of the weirdness of Gravity Falls. Thus, he's actively calculating the risks involved, and when he realizes there could be potentially devastating consequences of the portal, he attempts to talk Ford out of it; this fails due to Ford’s own denial and obsession over the portal. In the end, it all goes terribly sideways, and Fiddleford ends up losing everything he had; his wife, his son, his friend, his memories and himself to the trauma he had experienced at the invitation of his friend with the lure of validation and company, due to the memory gun he had created himself.

As for Dipper, much like Ford, he also has issues with self-worth (many of the episodes deal with Dipper finding self-worth; ie, the manotaur episode), has a physical oddity (his birthmark) and by far the trait he relies on most for worth is his intelligence (for example, in one episode he rubs it into Mabel's face over and over again in beating her in games). He's also extremely desperate to be recognized by authority figures as someone intelligent, case in point when he summons the dead after being made fun of by the government agents to try and show them that the information he's gathered is important after Stan dismisses his knowledge. This desperation to be seen as someone of worth from Dipper, much like Ford, extends to the need to be a hero, something he even says at the end of the zombie episode; yet, due to Mabel, unlike Ford he's not a lone hero, and Mabel also half the time acts as the hero.

Image id: Zombies crawling out of a crack after Dipper summons them; Dipper and the two agents look on in horror.

It all culminates in Dipper hero-worshipping Ford when he returns; really, no different than Ford worshipping Bill. And Ford clearly finds it extremely flattering; Dipper's attention and amazement of him feeds his exceptionalism. Exactly how Ford responded to Bill, Dipper is willing to do anything for Ford, excited too, in an attempt to impress Ford and be validated and accepted. And for Ford, that's an extremely heady feeling, especially as someone who has been constantly alone the last 30 years, especially when he had one previously confirm his exceptionalism all those years ago and stopped, and now someone is once again affirming that idea. And Ford doesn't have to be alone again, because he's found a kindred spirit in Dipper as his assistant, someone ‘just’ like him, someone who is exceptional. Because he sees himself in Dipper, he begins to espouse exceptionalism unconsciously, by praising Dipper's own intellect and adventurous spirit, assuaging his feeling of self-worth, while also telling him he's more important or better than others because of it.

And it's seductive to Dipper, because he wants to hear those affirmations of his self-worth, especially as he hero-worships him, but Dipper isn't sold on it, because it means leaving Mabel behind, it means believing that he's worth more than Mabel (and also, Stan, and all his friends he’s made in Gravity Falls). It's ultimately because of his relationship with Mabel that he rejects the ideology; he's not isolated the way Ford was with Bill, and he's not willing to break that relationship for that acknowledgement, because his relationships matter more to him.

Bill and Exceptionalism

Now of course, that's only on the Pines; what about Bill?

While it's obvious that Bill uses exceptionalism as a main manipulative tactic, it's not just an ideology he sprouts emptily; it's also an ideology he believes in, just like Ford, although it's less based on intellectual exceptionalism, and more on power and 'weirdness'.

This most distinctly can be seen in Bill's denial about what happened to his home dimension; Bill's belief in his exceptionalism occurs as a pain avoidance tactic from killing his whole dimension. Bill was clearly a social outcast within his dimension due to being able to see 3d; he's not accepted, and not trusted, to the point that there is medical intervention to make him blind. That's a deeply traumatic experience that completely erases one sense of self-worth, where one’s sanity is called into question by your parents on something that is not harmful, that's beautiful and you just want to share with them. It's a deep and clear rejection of who Bill is, and his ability. As a result, out of a desperate bid to be understood and accepted, he ends up trying to show them the stars. And it ends up killing everyone.

Image id: Page of TBOB, on 'The Early Years' which notes that Bill was an oddity for seeing 3d, something that was illegal to speak about. Bill frames it as something that made him 'special' and better than all the others.

Traumatized, and originally rejected by the dimension, he instead weaves an excuse of exceptionalism; that it doesn't matter what he did to them because he's exceptional and he's worth more than all of them because he can see 3d, because he's powerful, so he shouldn't/'doesn't' feel any remorse about it. With such a traumatic result of trying to be accepted by people, he rejects the idea of trying to be accepted for who he really is; instead adopting a facade of a monster that he believes he is (and eventually, becomes).

Even if he clings to the delusion of exceptionalism, and shuns attempts to find true acceptance, he still wants it; and that's where his henchmaniacs fit in, as they're all, as Bill's noted when trying desperately to get Ford to join him, weird; each has something 'wrong' with them, which is why Bill accepted them as his lackeys (although it's not like we know the context around these). It's a surface-level acceptance however, one more predicated on fear than emotional acceptance. He's taken his 'weirdness', much like many do who believe in exceptionalism,as ‘part of what makes him exceptional'.

In the same way that Ford wants to show the world that he's smart and intelligent by building the portal, Bill does so by wreaking havoc and taking over existences as a way to show the world that he's powerful, that he's someone to be reckoned with, that he's not someone to be ignored because he's someone who's worth more than others. If you can't be loved and accepted, then being hated and feared is better than being ignored; acknowledgement at least approaches acceptance, it's validation of some sort of worth. It also functions as deliberate self-sabotage of his morals, by proving that he is the monster that killed his entire dimension; if that's what he is, then that's who he's going to be, because if he wasn’t, then he has to come face to face with his remorse over what he did to his dimension and his whole house of cards around his exceptionalism and not caring collapses. So instead he keeps feeding the delusions the denial, and lies and lies and lies and keeps lying to ignore all of it, to wrap himself in this shroud of exceptionalism and brutality as a way to function. And it somewhat works, because he's mostly deluded himself about it all, even if subconsciously he knows.

And of course, this display of Bill's exceptionalism is what brings Bill to earth, to Gravity Falls, and to manipulating humans. In meddling with earth and humanity, beyond Bill's goal of taking over earth and fleeing his own unravelling dimension, he also enjoys reaping the benefits of being worshiped by humans, who find him awe-inspiring. Their amazement of who he is, and Bill's own posturing and manipulation of people leads to Bill literally forming cults (ie ciphertology) or having apprentices that worship/find him (to varying degree) inspiring; all reinforcing his feelings of exceptionalism.

Of course, Ford numbers among these people; he praises Bill and worships him, as he's played like a fiddle by Bill, because his self-worth and belief in exceptionalism is fucked up in a way that perfectly resonates with Bill’s. Because it's the exact same types of issues around self-worth, around being an outcast, being weird and wrong physically, and yet at the same time gifted. And Ford clearly is incredibly lonely and yearning for acceptance, but so is Bill; since the beginning he's been trying to find someone who would accept him, even if he's given up on it. And for his song and dance to entice Ford in, he pretends he's not crushed dimensions for fun, that he's not a 'monster'; a version of him he buried after he had tried to show his parents the stars, one that he occasionally resurrects and puppets around for manipulation (all lies are better when they have a grain of truth). And this version of him is worshipped, but above all is accepted, is loved by Ford. The softer parts of Bill, even if they are still weird as fuck, the parts that were never far beneath the surface for all his deluding, become loved by Ford. Much as Ford becomes hooked on Bill’s praise, Bill also becomes hooked on Ford's genuine love and care. It becomes personal, unlike any previous ‘inspirations’ and Bill over time gets to the point that he feels accepted, safe enough with Ford to share about his dimension much more close to the truth then he did with any of his henchmaniacs. He becomes vulnerable with Ford, in response to Ford’s own vulnerability with him. He’s finding acceptance for the first time in his life around the softer parts of himself, not just the feared acknowledgement that comes from his dimensions conquering; much like Ford is finally finding companionship and acceptance with Bill, not just only intellectual validation. Bill's also for once, not just self-serving; he cares, and goes out of his way to take time with Ford, even celebrating Ford's birthday (in the unique way he does things), both with the rats and the karaoke.

Image id: One of the lost Journal 3 pages in TBOB. Ford recounts Bill talking about the destruction of his dimension, and calls himself by implication a monster.

They're both fulfilling each other's emotional needs, needs which both of them have struggled with most, if not all of their lives (although their relationship is certainly not healthy, considering it's codependent as fuck, riddled with exceptionalism and oodles of power imbalance issues). And suddenly, against Bill's plans, Ford's no longer just a disposable pawn, but someone Bill wants as part of his team, someone by his side, closer than his henchmaniacs are. He's unwittingly fallen for Ford, and so when everything goes sideways in his plan, and Ford swears it off, suddenly cutting off their relationship and that acceptance Bill had finally felt, he spirals into grief and anger from the rejection. As a result, he becomes extremely abusive to Ford in desperate attempts to continue their relationship, and ultimately he becomes obsessive over Ford joining him again as Ford continues to refuse, as evidenced by both Weirdmageddon and the Book of Bill.

Stanley Pines, and the Refuting of Exceptionalism

Exceptionalism, being a negative driving factor behind many core character dynamics, is ultimately refuted by the show. This occurs multiple times over the show, such as with Mabel in the Pioneer Day episode, especially compared to Pacifica, but mostly through Stan's characterization. Stan is someone who has been since the beginning characterized (if lovingly so) as someone who is a failure by societal standards; he’s an older man running a run-down tacky tourist shop to swindle gullible tourists out of their money, has multiple divorces, has an ongoing feud with a literal 12 year old, clearly has had multiple mishaps with the law (some ongoing), is generally pretty self-serving and is extremely lonely and really had no close relationships until Mabel and Dipper showed up. He's not exceptional; he's not even what we would consider 'decent' enough to have a 'typical, hard working job’. In short, he’s a failure, a stark difference to the idea of 'exceptionalism' that characterizes Ford. If he's gifted in any area, it would be charisma (debatedly), not anything else.

But it's still Stan who rebuilds the portal from literally only one journal (not all three!) and gets it to work. It even seems like he only needs some codes from the other two journals when he does get them, suggesting that he was able to extrapolate from what was left and the first journal’s blueprints to fix it entirely, something that is extremely difficult and technically complicated (Ford, Bill and Fiddleford all worked on it together!). Stan's able to do it, even if it's been shown he's not 'naturally' gifted in that area. And it's something he does as a result of his deep care for Ford; because even after their fights, he cares about Ford and wants to right his wrongs, believes he should, because of his whole life of being defined as a failure and even worse than that, screwing up his ‘exceptional’ brother’s life. And he’ll do it even if that means learning how to build an interdimensional portal, even if it takes up thirty years of his life doing so, and he doesn't waver. Much of this is connected to his own complexes around being deemed a failure compared to Ford, having failed to succeed in his life, and how he feels that he needs to atone for screwing up Ford’s life, now for the second time; but beneath it all, he also cares. Much like Ford, he's extremely lonely, but he's not blinded by Ford's arrogance, and as a result he wants to make sure Ford's safe, because that's what he used to do, they’re twins, they grew up together, they once they had fully accepted and cared for each other, and dammit that still means something, and Stan hasn't found that depth of emotional connection since. So if possible, he wants to rekindle that closeness they had, but first, he needs to bring Ford back.

And in the end, it's not Ford's own special gun he built using his intelligence that 'kills' Bill. It's Stan, someone who Ford had long ago broke it off with in search of validation of his exceptionalism, someone who both Ford and Bill labelled as 'not-exceptional', who defeats Bill. It's exceptionalism's devaluation of people who are 'not-exceptional' that causes Bill to underestimate the Pines beyond Ford, and it's only when Ford put aside his exceptionalism and his refusal to accept and trust 'non-exceptional' people, that is, trust Stan once more, that causes Bill to end up defeated by Stan.

In the end, it's not about who's 'smarter'; it's a reminder that everyone has different skills and are better at different things, but that doesn't diminish one's worth or value, and that just because someone isn't naturally 'gifted' in an area doesn't mean they can't learn or use different ways to get around obstacles. Ultimately, it comes down to that no one is worth more or less than other people; exceptionalism is a lie. It’s a lie and an excuse, and it's certainly not a healthy way to assuage one's poor self-worth. What does matter is creating positive healthy connections with other people, and caring about them. This creates a community where you can be yourself and be emotionally fulfilled through these connections; and when opposition does arise, you become able to fight it together, and fight so much stronger than if you are alone.

And by the end of the show, you see that. Ford begins to let go of the ideal of exceptionalism and its black-and-white categorization; finally recognizes his own faults around prioritizing validation of his intelligence and exceptionalism over his relationships, and finally, after all the years, chooses to create and rekindle positive relationships with people, trust people, and make amends. And in the end, he goes sailing with Stan, prioritizing their relationship, finally fulfilling their childhood promise.

Image id: One of the pages written by Ford into TBOB. Ford refutes Bill's idea of happiness, and says he has finally found his own happiness, and it looks like the photo taped in, of Stan, Ford, Dipper, Mabel, Soos and Wendy, all smiling together.

TLDR: Exceptionalism, an ideology of categorizing people into being special and worth more vs plebian and worth less, is a trauma response and subconscious ideology that characterizes Ford and Bill’s lives, deeply impacting all their relationships as it is used to coerce people into doing what they want, makes Ford easily manipulated, and breaks relationships through their arrogance. It is ultimately denounced through the way Dipper chooses to reject Ford’s offer and his rhetoric of being exceptional, and through the way it's not Ford’s intelligence, but rather Stan, who has been labeled as 'not-exceptional' and a failure at life, that defeats Bill through trickery. It's a reminder that everyone has worth, and no one is worth more than other people, even if one may be gifted in certain areas; the ideology of exceptionalism is fragile and a lie. In the end, creating a caring, loving community around oneself is where strength truly lies, as is seen with the deep care and love the characters have for each other, and the repairing of Ford and Stans relationship.

Thanks to the lovely @eshtaresht who deigned to beta read this monster of a post for me

If you enjoyed this meta, (first of all if you read all this you're a champ!) I've also done another gf meta post! (It's shorter I swear)

#gravity falls #ford pines #stanford pines #bill cipher #stanley pines #stan pines #hugin rambles #hugin rambles gf #journal 3 #the book of bill #thisisnotawebsitedotcom #billford #fordsquared #gravity falls analysis #gravity falls meta #book of bill #tbob #christ its so long whyyyy #also oh nooo i wanna do another thing but SPECIFICALLY on trust. gravity falls is ultimately about strength in community and hnnnghhhhh #that makes me wanna cry #also i had so many thoughts. also on the denial part of exceptionalism??? oh baby Bill fucking LISTS it in his book #like sir. please #anyways i love media analysis and im totally normal about all these characters #also like Fiddleford is. like. yikes man.#anyways uhm. does dropping a 6k essay post make me sexy? please say yes (i HIGHLY doubt it #sheesh who's got time to read all this... psssspsspspp theres PHOTOS that TOTALLY dont have more reading in rhem nawwww #i totally dont know what ur talking about mhmmm #if youre like is this about gifted kids- yes. yeah. i just didnt name it. its also about wider things but. yeah #also. unofficial title? Gravity Falls and Gifted Kid Issues an analysis #oh boy sure hope my post about gifted kid issues is a hit on the gifted kid issues site

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