#this was a text i sent to my friend and i had to post it here too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

torturedtypewritersdept · 1 day ago

Text

proclivity - pt. five - I know the end

✯ 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?

✯ 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 origianlly 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 didn’t talk to Rafe until Wednesday when he texted you before your shift.

R: can’t wait to see you, pretty girl :)

Y: me too <3

You wanted to tell him everything so badly, about JJ showing up and everything you went through with him, but you couldn’t do that over the phone. There was no telling what he'd do when he found out. So you waited. You got to the Club before him on Wednesday, clocking in and tending to your tables, which were already full. It was going to be a busy night and usually you would welcome that, it helped pass the time. But, not today. Today, all you wanted was to talk to Rafael.

You were busy with one of your tables when he walked in. He admired the black cocktail uniform that clung to your body and the way your hair hung in its low ponytail. He felt lucky to know you, to get to watch as you interacted with your regular customers, always kind, no matter the circumstances. You didn’t do it because you had to, you did it because that’s just who you were. You flirted with your eyes as you spotted him and he returned it, a small smile lacing his features. It was thirty minutes before you could get away from your tables due to the dinner rush, but Rafe made a point to stay at the bar until he got a chance to speak to you. Even though looking at you was always enough, he wanted to hear your sweet voice in his ears.

“Rafael.”

You whispered into his ear, blowing in it, as you came up behind him. It sent shivers down his spine.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

He replied with a smile on his face, finally hearing that voice, that sound he had been craving. You slowly made your way behind the bar so you could stand in front of him and look at his handsome face. Rafe and handsome have always been synonymous words in your brain, but he didn’t need to know that. You quickly got to work, making a drink. A Tequila sunrise. It was your favorite to make, mostly because of how pretty the hues of orange and pink were, hence its name. You sat it in front of Rafe.

“I didn’t order this-”

“It’s on the house.”

You replied, winking at him.

“Well what is it? It looks girly.”

He chuckled.

“It’s my favorite. Just try it.”

You giggled at him and he sipped it slowly. His face shriveled up as the familiar taste of way too much tequila hit his lips.

“Jesus, Y/n, who taught you how to mix drinks? This is awful.”

His comment made you chuckle heartily.

“That would be you, Rafael.”

He grinned cheekily as he recalled the first time he asked you to make him a margarita, which you failed miserably at, prompting him to teach you how. You had never really mastered the skill of mixing drinks, but he pretended you were okay at it to appease you. Rafe was brought out of his thoughts as he watched your body tense up. He wondered if he had said or did the wrong thing and then he followed your eyes, as they landed on JJ who was across the room with Kiara, sitting in your section.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”

You whispered, hoping Rafe wouldn’t hear you. He reached out, grazing your hand with his fingertips as you vigorously wiped down the wood of the bar.

“You want me to beat him up, again?”

Rafe questioned innocently and you chuckled.

��No, he’s not worth it.”

“He is if you’re upset.”

Rafe stated, matter-of-factly.

“It’s not that, it’s just he knows this is my section and he sat in it on purpose. They just want to torture me like it’s not bad enough he slept with my best friend.”

The sadness that laced your voice made Rafe’s chest tight.

“Go take care of your tables and I’ll be right here the whole time. You just put your hand behind your back and ball up a fist if you need me, okay?”

You nodded, thankful Rafe chose today of all days to be here. You slowly but surely made your way from behind the bar and headed to the Carrera’s table.

“Hey guys! How are you?”

The Carerra’s faces lit up at seeing you. They had no idea why you hadn’t been coming around or the way their daughter had betrayed you. It wasn’t their fault she was a bitch and you weren’t going to punish them for it.

“Hey, sweet girl! We miss you. Where have you been?”

Kiara’s mom asked. She was an angel and always had been and you loved her.

“Just working.”

You gave your ex-best friend’s parents a tight lipped smile. Kiara’s eyes were apologetic even though she had never said she was sorry for what she had done.

“Well, we miss you. You should come see us soon!”

Mr. Carerra spoke up.

“I will. So what can I get you guys?”

“JJ and I will have two bacon cheeseburgers and a basket of fries to share.”

Kiara spoke with a cheeky smile, flaunting the consolation prize of her betrayal, a piece of shit pogue boy who is going nowhere. You had never had a problem with the Pogues until you had become one and they all betrayed you by covering up JJ’s infidelity. The Pogues were poison, just like Rafe had warned you all those years ago.

“I’m gonna hit the head.”

JJ muttered, surely feeling awkward about Kiara’s incessant need to be a show off. She wasn’t always this awful and you weren’t sure when she had taken a turn for the worst.

“What about you, Mike?”

You questioned Mr. Carerra.

“I’ll take the 15 oz ribeye. Medium rare with potatoes and green beans.”

“Yes, sir. That sounds amazing!”

You reply with faux enthusiasm.

“You’ll have to pull up a chair with us and grab a bite to eat.”

He spoke, his kind gesture making your heart melt.

“I definitely will if I can go on my break soon.”

You smiled at him.

“And for you, Anna?”

You questioned Kiara’s mother.

“I’ll do the chef salad with ranch, dear. I’d also love a small side of the mac and cheese.”

She smiled softly, you missed the warmth that you felt when she smiled at you.

“You got it, I’ll be right back with the food. Can I get you guys anything to drink?”

You asked.

“Just make sweet tea for all of us, sweetheart.”

Anna spoke kindly and you nodded.

Rafe watched as you made your way back to the kitchen to make their drinks and put the order in. After a few minutes he began to get a little worried, his radar for you always on high alert. For some reason it was taking you a long time to come back to him and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. That’s when he saw it, JJ Maybank had you cornered in the hallway of the dining room. He stayed back though, knowing you’d give him your signal if you needed help. Rafe was always very protective of you but he always tried to let you fight your own battles. Mostly because once when he defended you in the third grade by beating up the boy who was teasing you, you kicked him in the balls and let him know that you were your own hero. That was the day he realized he loved you. He smiled at the memory of your pigtails and the redness of your cheeks. Then, suddenly, Rafe was brought out of his thoughts at hearing bits and pieces of the venomous words JJ was speaking to you and he sprung into action as he saw your fist balled up behind your back. He made his way over to you, half-running, his protective nature overcoming his logical thinking.

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

He watched you as you visibly relaxed under his presence, knowing there was no way JJ could hurt you in Rafe’s presence.

“Hey, Rafey-”

You were cut off by JJ’s sneer.

“Everything was perfectly fine until you fucking interrupted our conversation.”

JJ spat in Rafe's direction.

“I clearly wasn’t asking you douchebag, I was asking her.”

Rafe responded nonchalantly. You could feel the anger emanating from him, his chest warm on your back, but he was holding back. You knew he was doing it for you. If that didn't prove he wasn't the same rafe you used to know, you didn't know what did.

“Right and here I was thinking you were calling me sweetheart.”

JJ spoke sarcastically. His sarcasm you used to find endearing, charming even, and now, it just made him more of a dick.

“What a shame JJ. Are you regretting losing my girl, that’s why you got her cornered in a dark hallway. Is Kie not enough for you?”

And - there it was. Rafe’s tone was laced with danger and he willed JJ to use his words correctly before he killed him with his bare hands.

“Your girl?! I’m not regretting anything if you must fucking know.”

JJ spat, almost unable to control his emotions.

“I mean, no judgment at all dude, she’s easily the best girl on this island.”

Rafe gave him a wink. He was a cocky little bastard when he wanted to be.

“Oh, you’d know, wouldn’t you? Haven’t you had every girl on the island?”

JJ questioned. He was a real asshole when he wanted to be.

“Could say the same to you, you know since you're passing your dick around like it’s the community pool.”

Rafe spit back.

“Rafael-”

You spoke softly, feeling the vibration of your glucose monitor go off. You didn’t feel right, something was wrong. You placed your hand limply around his bicep, urging him to back off and call it a day.

“Rafael? Who the fuck is Rafael and why are you touching him like that?”

JJ questioned, confusedly.

“That would be me, big guy.”

Rafe muttered, raising his two fingers like attendance was being taken in homeroom.

“I-”

“You know what, if you must know, it’s none of your business how she touches me or how often she uses a nickname with me or how many times she’s kissed me.”

Rafe growled.

“How many times she what-”

The hurt and jealousy that laced JJ’s eyes was something you’d never seen before.

“Joseph-”

You whispered Rafe’s middle name, which got his attention. You never called him Joseph, ever, and when he looked into your eyes he knew something was wrong. It clicked in his brain too late, as he felt you loosen your grip from his arm and he watched in horror as you hit the ground. Your head bounced off the carpet and you started convulsing violently.

“Angel! No! No, no, no, no, no.”

Rafe’s panicked voice echoed through the club as he yelled.

“Turn her on her side! She’s having a diabetic seizure!”

JJ interjected, yelling as he got down rolling you onto your side while Rafe stabilized your head.

“JJ, call 911!”

Rafe screeched.

“I’m on it!”

He yelled as he ran to grab his phone from the table, meeting Kiara’s eyes as he ran quickly back to you and Rafe.

“It’s okay, sweet, baby girl. You’re gonna be okay. I’m right here.”

Rafe whispered as he counted the seconds until your body stopped convulsing. He was careful with your head, scared he’d hurt you or that you would have brain damage when you woke up. Kiara had followed JJ back to Rafe, curious as to why her boyfriend was so distressed.

“J-”

Her voice faltered as she caught your unconscious form on the carpet of the country club.

“What the fuck is this? Why are you helping her?!”

She yelled in JJ’s direction, confusion and hurt, lacing her tone.

“Kie-, please tell me you’re not so insecure that you care that he’s trying to help me save your best friend from dying right now.”

Rafe growled in her direction and she made her way back to the table in tears. The ambulance got there quickly and immediately administered insulin and oxygen, which seemed to bring your vitals up. Rafe hopped in the back with you, not caring about leaving his truck at the club. He’d uber to get it later, once he knew you were okay.

When you started to stir, the first thing you noticed was the smell of sterilization and the weight of something pricking the hand of your skin. You were in the hospital. Shit. Willing yourself to pry your eyes open, you slowly blinked, taking in a tall figure, reading a book beside you, one of his hands in yours. You coughed, your throat and mouth extremely dry. His blue eyes met yours and you registered who it was. Rafael.

He stood up, making his way closer to you, standing over your head, in your line of vision. Rafe’s hands cupped your cheeks and he placed a kiss on your forehead before he spoke.

“Hey, pretty girl. How are you feeling?”

You tried to speak but your mouth was dry and then it dawned on you, your dad was going to kill you. You tried to sit up, which was a huge mistake as the movement shook your head a little too hard. Rafe pushed you back down by your shoulders.

“Easy, Tiger.”

He spoke softly, bringing a cup of water with a straw up to your lips, as he sat in front of you on the bed. You swallowed vigorously, like it was the first cup of water you’d had in ten years.

“Slow down, baby.”

He whispered in a sweet tone. You made eye contact with him after you decided you had enough of the beverage.

“Rafe, what happened?”

You questioned, confusedly.

“Your pump stopped working and you had a seizure from not getting your insulin.”

You nodded your head in response, shock rittling your senses at his words. It shouldn’t have surprised you after how many times it had happened, but it did and it hurt your feelings every single one.

“Will you lay with me?”

You asked, as sweet as could be and he couldn't deny you.

“Of course, sweet girl.”

Rafe crawled into the bed next to you, letting you cuddle into him and lay your head on his chest. His heartbeat brought you solace. He stroked your hair gently, his fingertips barely grazing the strands, and placed a kiss on your bandaged forehead. You had a concussion and some stitches from where you hit your head on the floor and he was as careful as possible when he placed the kiss, scared he’d hurt you.

“Rafael, thank you for taking care of me and for being here.”

You praised.

“Anything for you, baby. I’m always going to be here. You can count on that.”

He smiled into your hairline, continuing to stroke it and you felt immense peace. You couldn’t tell what had changed or why, but you believed him with every fiber of your being.

The next time you woke up, you were in Rafe’s arms, his soft snores infiltrating your ears and the aroma of the hospital room making its way into your nostrils. He had been at your beck and call for the last three days and he was tired, he needed the rest. You shifted your body, though careful not to move too quickly, afraid you’d wake him. Looking up at his sweet face, you traced your fingers down the bridge of his nose. How could one person be this perfect? You pondered. It was more than his chiseled jaw that you had always admired or his tan skin, he had begun to show you that he was a good man and that’s something you hadn’t seen in him in a long time, maybe ever. It made you love him in a way that you never had. A soft knock on the door took you out of your thoughts and you were praying to God that whoever it was wouldn’t wake up the giant man sleeping soundly next to you. Then, you saw brown hair with highlights peek through the crack of the door and you realized it was Topper. He peeked his head all the way through the door, and a bright smile littered his face. Kelce followed his lead, as he knocked softly again, making sure it was okay to come through the threshold of the hospital room.

“Knock, knock.”

He whispered and was surprised when he was met with your eyes instead of Rafe’s.

“Shh.”

You spoke, motioning your pointer finger to your lips in an attempt to keep him quiet. Seeing Rafe so still and soft, in an almost childlike state while sleeping was enough to make you swoon and you wanted him to stay this way as long as possible.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one resting?”

Topper teased as he brought a balloon that read “it’s a girl!” to your bedside. It made you giggle.

“Sorry, they ran out of “Sorry you have diabetes” balloons.”

Kelce quipped. Your giggle was now a full-fledged belly laugh. "These two idiots!", you thought. As your laugh erupted from your stomach, Rafe began to stir, shifting his weight in the small bed. You lifted your hand, running your fingertips softly through the hair that was now hanging in his face. He nestled his face into your shoulder, curling his long legs into his stomach. There’s no way he’s comfortable, you thought. But you also didn’t have the heart to wake him.

“I want him to sleep as long as possible, he’s been up for days worrying about me.”

You spoke flatly and the boys understood the sentiment of your words. They cared deeply for both of you.

“When are they saying you’ll be able to go home?”

Kelce probed, wanting you to feel as normal as possible as soon as possible.

“This afternoon, I think.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder.

“That’s good, pretty girl. You know he’s not going to leave your side, right?”

You playfully rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, the same way you two were the last time.”

You joked.

“The last time you almost died. This isn’t that.”

Topper’s tone was cold and he didn’t mean it to be, but he didn’t understand your calm, cool, and collected nature when it came to such traumatic events with your health. The room grew eerily silent and you were the first to break it.

“Let’s not talk about that in front of Rafe, okay?”

Both boys simply nodded their heads in response, understanding of your wishes. Topper and Kelce stayed for about an hour before deciding to go. Rafe stirred awake not long after they had departed from the room.

“Pretty girl. What time is it?”

He asked, his eyes fluttering open to see yours staring up at him. His voice was gruff and sexy like only boys can be when they’ve first woken up.

“Well, good morning handsome. It’s 1pm.”

You responded with a light chuckle.

“Gosh, How long have I been asleep?”

“Since last night around 11.”

He nodded his head, his still sleepy response was noted by you.

“Did someone come to visit or did I dream about that?”

You giggled, placing your hand on his cheek softly, rubbing your thumb back and forth underneath his eye.

“It wasn't a dream, Topper and Kelce were here this morning.”

You whispered sweetly, bringing your hands up to his hair, stroking lightly.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he asked the question.

“You needed the sleep, Rafael. You’ve been awake, worrying about me for the last three days and that won’t do either of us any good.”

He brought your chin up with his thumb and pointer finger, wanting your eyes to meet his, and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“It’s my job to worry about you.”

You were discharged from the hospital not long after Rafe had woken up, which you kind of despised, you wished he would’ve stayed asleep and gotten as much rest as he needed. The past few days had taken a toll on him and they would have taken a toll on anybody. No one wakes up and expects the girl they love to have a seizure and be put in the hospital. He had never seen you this fragile and that thought alone ate him alive. He hated that he couldn’t do anything to protect you from this. This wasn’t some mouthy pogue or a handsy touron he could punch out and call it a day, nestling you safely into his arms after disposing of the threat. This was an illness, a disease, that no one had control over, that no one could predict and even the best safety measures couldn’t protect you from a failing insulin pump. That part of it destroyed him. But the part of it that didn’t was seeing you be strong through all of it. You made jokes at your own expense, which was how you coped. You had done that for years with a lot of things. You did it the day you got your braces on when you were afraid of how Rafe would perceive your new appearance. Spoiler alert: he thought you were beautiful. You did it when your grandma died and when your parents fought and even when JJ cheated on you. The only thing you had never done it about was Rafe. His absence was the only thing that hurt too bad to joke about. He admired the fact that you could joke about your illness and how annoyed you got when he fussed over you, especially today, as he was driving you to his house from the hospital. When they had wheeled you out of the front doors of the hospital, Rafe gently lifted your body with his strong arms and placed you into the passenger seat of his truck. He made sure you were comfortable before lacing his hands through the seatbelt, stretching it across your body and buckling you in, the familiar click as the extender and the buckle met filtering through the car.

“Rafe, I can buckle myself. My arms are in perfect working condition.”

You scoffed, his incessant need to take care of you getting on your nerves.

“I know you can. Just let me dote on you today, okay?”

His voice was almost pleading. You gave him a reassuring nod, knowing that this is what he needed at the moment, even if you didn’t. You smiled, you loved this soft side of him, but eventually, it'd have to stop. Diabetes was something you’d been dealing with on your own for years. You didn’t need the hovering or the constant worry from your brown-haired, blue-eyed lover. You needed him to know you were strong and capable, not this weak damsel in distress he thought you were. You decided you would give it a day and have a conversation with him if it hadn’t stopped by the end of the week. As he made sure you were okay, he made his way to the driver’s side and started the truck, heading for Tannyhill. Your parents were in Thailand for business and couldn’t get back in time for you to be discharged, which you were thankful for. You didn’t need the wrath of your father right now, your brain and body still too tired from the trauma they endured. Rafe had told your mother you could stay at Tannyhill until they got home, which would be a week from today and he couldn’t help but be excited at having you this close for this long. You fell asleep on the ride home to Rafe’s, the slinging of gravel under his tires making you stir, as he pulled to the front of the house. He quickly got out and made his way to your side of the car, opening your door and unbuckling you, before lifting you in his arms once more and carrying you inside. The shift in your surroundings made you groan.

“Mmmm.”

You grunted out, Rafe’s lips turned up in a smile.

“Hey, sweet girl, you’re okay. We’re home. I’m gonna take you to bed.”

He whispered in your ear.

“Mmmm, Rafey.”

You said it like his name was the yummiest thing your tongue had ever tasted, a sleepy smile plastered on your face. As he opened the door, you felt yourself wanting to fight, wanting to prove to him you could do it yourself, but your body was too tired to try and argue with the comforting embrace of the boy you loved. You took in the smell of him as you heard him telling his family not to talk above a whisper while making his way through the living room. He smelled like sea salt, whiskey, and expensive cologne - a familiar smell for many reasons, it reminded you of home, the island, the stupid pretentious parties, and the ocean you’d grown to love the sight of. However, it reminded you of home because he was stitched in every memory of you being in these places, in this atmosphere. The smell was bliss, the smell was Rafe.

“Please if you talk to her or around her, talk in a whisper. She’s got a concussion and ten stitches on her forehead. If she’s in a room, the lights need to be off, at least until tomorrow.”

Rafe whisper-yelled over your half-asleep form, to his family before walking up the stairs.

“Don’t worry, son. We got it. We’ve dealt with a concussion before.”

Ward giggled because his son had had six concussions in his football career, they knew very well how to take care of one, but Rafe’s protective nature shined through and allowed him to forget that. He loved that his son cared this deeply for another person, there was a time when he wondered if he ever would.

Rafe slowly but surely carried you up the stairs to his bedroom, laying you down in his usual resting place, which was the comfiest place on the mattress. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible. Luckily, you were dressed in cozy clothes so he didn’t have to wake you. Instead, he brought the blankets under your chin and slid in next to you, falling asleep fast as he clung to your small frame.

When you woke the next morning, Rafe was no longer next to you, which made you curious, so you made your way out of bed and slowly peered down the hallway. There was no sign of him in the bathroom or any of the bedrooms upstairs. You peered eerily over the edge of the staircase banister, looking for any sign of him.

“Rafael”

You called out and he came barreling up the stairs from around the corner in the kitchen. You admired him in his domestic form, basketball shorts, t-shirt, and messy hair. A still sleepy smile danced across his face as he took in the sight of you. He hadn’t been awake very long.

“Pretty girl, good morning.”

He spoke with a smile, making his way up to you, and placing a kiss on your hairline.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

He questioned.

“I couldn’t find you”

You brought your lips to a pout and it sent a shiver down his spine. He loved that you wanted to be so close to him. You were enamored by everything that he was and you couldn’t get enough.

“You want some coffee? I made your favorite.”

You were confused. How could he possibly know what your favorite coffee is? You had been not speaking for the last two years, there was no way he had made you the right thing.

“Which would be what?”

You questioned, confusion lacing your face.

“White chocolate mocha with ½ and ½ instead of milk and an extra shot of white chocolate.”

“Rafe, how did you know?”

“I’ve just paid attention and it helps that you’ve had the same coffee order since we were 13.”

He joked and you gushed internally, your core became warm at his sentiment, leaving you flustered and on edge.

“Rafael, that’s so sweet, thank you.”

You whispered as you pulled him in for a tight hug.

“Let’s go downstairs and get you that coffee.”

He spoke sweetly and you followed him down the staircase. When you had made it to the kitchen, you noted that Rafe had all kinds of coffee and syrups lining the island, where he was topping your cup off with whipped cream. It was a surprise that Rafe was an actual coffee drinker, not a poser who orders the closest thing to a milkshake he can find at every coffee shop. Rafe pulled a barstool out for you to sit on from underneath the island and helped you onto it before sliding it close to the edge of the countertop.

“Rafael, when did you become such a coffee whore?”

You asked innocently, not realizing how funny the remark was. Rafe let out a belly laugh.

“Uh, my mom got me into drinking it right before she passed. It was something I clung to when she died. The warmth of a good cup of coffee reminds me of her hugs.”

He spoke with a smile.

“Well, now I feel like an asshole.”

You muttered, a grimace on your face.

“What do you mean? Why?”

“I thought you were going to have some douchey frat boy response. Like, you started drinking it to get a girl’s attention or something.”

Rafe chuckled at you being so taken aback by him.

“No, I’m not that guy anymore.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.”

You mumbled what you thought was quietly, but evidently not quiet enough, as Rafe’s eyes went wide at your confession.

“Let me take you on a date today.”

He spoke softly, timidness dancing across his body language. You smiled at him brightly and when he looked at his feet, waiting for you to tell him no, you lifted his chin with your thumb and pointer finger.

“Hey, don’t do that.”

“Sorry-”

“No, I mean, don’t go to the bad place in your head. Everything’s fine, baby. I thought you’d never ask.”

He smiled as widely as he could.

“Okay, well let’s get some food in your stomach and then we’ll get ready and make a day out of it. Do you feel okay enough for that?”

“Yeah, I feel fine. But, what do you mean? Where are you taking me?”

You looked confused. You had never really been on a real date, JJ didn’t have very much money, which was never an issue for you. You didn’t mind paying for whatever the two of you did. But, even still he lacked romance and creativity. There was never a movie date or a day at the beach, just the two of you. It was all about the Pogues all the time and that was one of the many reasons you didn’t miss him.

“That I cannot reveal yet, sweetheart.”

He smiled cheekily and it made your heart warm. You were excited and you knew Rafe wasn’t going to disappoint. Rafe Cameron wasn’t known for romance, yet you believed he had something special up his sleeves. He made eggs, bacon, and toast with jelly, which was your favorite kind of breakfast. You appreciated how thoughtful he was. After you finished eating, he asked you to go get dressed and pack a bag.

“Did you get enough to eat, sweetheart?”

He questioned, always aware of the sugar demon that lived inside your bloodstream now. Apart from worrying about your sugar, he just wanted to make sure you were full, which you appreciated.

“Yes, Rafael. I’m full.”

You smiled in his direction, before hopping off the barstool and heading upstairs to take a shower, wanting to look your best for your date with him.

“Do you mind picking out my clothes since I’m not allowed to know what we’re doing?”

You questioned, turning around as you reached the bottom of the staircase, meeting his blue eyes that were boring into the back of your head already.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. I’d love to.”

He gave you a reassuring nod as you turned around and made your way up the staircase, smiling like an idiot over the fact that you caught him staring at you. As you reached the top of the stairs, you realized you were already winded and tired, an after effect of your recent health scare. You made your way into Rafe’s room, which had a connecting bathroom. You quickly grabbed your insulin and bath supplies, knowing you’d need to change your pump when you got out and made your way into the bathroom, where you stripped yourself of your clothes and turned on the water. You liked the water scalding hot, you always joked that you like to feel like you’re in the pits of hell until your shower is over and the cool air of the bathroom brushes up against your naked skin. You removed the old insulin pump, discarding it into the trash, and hopped in the shower. You didn’t waste much time, but you did let the hot water soothe your muscles for a bit before you washed your hair and body and it felt so good. When you were done, you exited the shower, grabbing Rafe’s towel from the drying rack and wrapping it around your body. You made your way into the bedroom, where you found a beautiful, white lace sundress with a note attached to it.

A beautiful dress for a beautiful girl. Saw this downtown last week and it reminded me of you. What a perfect day to wear it, yeah? I packed your bag with all the necessary snacks and medicine and put a bathing suit in there for you too. The white one-piece you wore on the druthers, it’s my favorite.

Rafael

You audibly gasped at how thoughtful Rafe had been and there you were, smiling like an idiot in the middle of his bedroom. You put on your bra and underwear and called his name, wanting him to come to help you with applying a new insulin pump. Today was as good a day as any for him to learn how to do it.

“Rafael!”

You bellowed out his name and he came up the stairs quickly, you could hear his feet hitting each mahogany panel. He knocked softly, not wanting to disturb you if you weren’t decent. You slowly slid the dress up your legs, so he could only see your bra.

“You can come in, I need your help.”

He swung the door open at that, afraid you were sick or in trouble in some other way. His eyes landed on you, sitting on his bed, with the dress he had bought you covering your bottom half, nothing but your bra covering your top.

“Woah.”

He whispered, a smirk tracing his lips.

“Easy, tiger. I need help with my pump. There’s no fire anywhere.”

You giggled softly at him. He looked so afraid when he swung the door open.

“Okay, pretty girl, tell me what to do.”

“I have everything ready. I just need you to plunge it into my skin, somewhere it won’t show in this dress.”

“Is your stomach okay?”

He questioned you, watching as you inserted the insulin into the pump and let it prime. As much as you wanted to tell him, no, to run, to scream, to hide - you couldn’t. Your stomach was the best place for the pump, but it was also a place you didn’t want Rafe to look at. Over the last two years, your stomach had become littered with scars from failed pump sites and it made you insecure about your body. This is why you stuck to one-piece bathing suits.

“U-uh, yeah.”

Rafe noticed the shift in your behavior and he didn’t take it lightly.

“Hey, pretty girl, what’s the matter?”

You stared down at him, as he was now rocking on the balls of his feet and squatted in front of you.

“It’s just, my stomach, it isn’t pretty anymore, okay?”

“What do you mean? Everything about you is pretty.”

“I have a lot of scars from my pump on my stomach. It’s probably better if I show you.”

He nodded gingerly and you delicately pushed the dress down to your hips, revealing the fullness of your tiny waist and belly. The scars that littered it were discolored, some black, and brown, and the oldest ones were white. Some were longer and larger than the others. You swallowed thickly as you watched Rafe’s blue eyes take in the tattered skin and you let a tear fall from your eye. You hoped he didn’t notice, but he did.

“Hey, this doesn’t change anything. Everybody has scars. It’s okay, baby.”

“I’m ugly, Rafe.”

“Believe me, darling, you are the furthest thing there ever was from ugly and a few scars won’t change my mind. I have scars too.”

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah, look, this is from that time you pushed me off my bike when we were seven. Remember I had all those stitches?”

He asked, pointing to his face, which he had landed on when he fell. You chuckled to yourself. He had pissed you off so bad that day when he wouldn’t let you play with his spiderman action figures.

“Yeah, I remember. Sorry, I was a bitch.”

You laughed and Rafe wiped some of the tears off your face.

“You’ve never been a bitch. I promise.”

You sniffled and smiled at him, thankful for his kind words.

“Everybody has scars, sweet girl. They make us who we are, they’re proof we’ve lived. You’ve just lived a lot of life.”

You hugged him tightly, his fingers tracing the skin of your bare back.

“Okay, pick a spot on my belly and stick it there.”

“How’s here?”

He asked, placing the pump close to your naval.

“That’s great. Just hold it there until you hear the click.”

He did as he was told, holding it until he heard the audible click of the needle going into your fragile skin. You grimaced.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

His brows furrowed in concern.

“I’m okay, Rafael. It’s just the needle.”

Your response seemed to soothe him enough because the next thing you knew his hands had traveled to your hips and he began helping you pull the dress up over your middle and placed the straps securely on your shoulders. He turned you around to look in the mirror.

“How’s that, pretty girl? Do you like it?”

“I love it, Rafe. Thank you so much.”

Shortly after your bedroom excursion, you and Rafe were ready to go, you still clueless as to where he was taking you or what your date entailed. He led you outside to his truck, grabbing the bag he had packed for you and placing it on the backseat floorboard. When he opened the back passenger door, you noticed there was a picnic basket with pink tulips hanging out the side of it. They were your favorite flower, which Rafe definitely knew. You smirked at this small detail. So far he was blowing your expectations out of the water, which you had no doubt he would. He helped you into the passenger seat, buckling you yet again. You were starting to think this had less to do with your fragility and more to do with the fact that he just liked doing it.

You and Rafe quickly arrived downtown, walking around all your favorite boutiques and shops. As you walked down the cobblestone streets of Kildare, Rafe reached for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. You could’ve sworn you had died and gone to heaven. You had loved this boy as long as you could remember and even your wildest of fantasies would’ve never given you the idea he’d ever want you like this. You watched the ground as you walked, eyes on your feet and you felt his eyes boring a hole into the side of your head.

“It’s rude to stare, you know?”

You spoke freely, letting out a giggle and Rafe rolled his eyes playfully.

“I just wanted to look at you.”

He spoke softly.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re beautiful.”

He spoke with more fire this time, saying the words boldly, with purpose. He wasn’t trying to make a move, or get you to sleep with him, he just needed you to know and you sensed that he meant it.

“You make me feel good, Rafe.”

“Well, that’s kinda the whole point of this. If I’m ever not making you feel good, then that’s when we should reevaluate what we’re doing.”

You smiled at him and nodded, knowing he needed you to understand what he was saying, that’d you tell him if ever wasn’t making you feel good.

“You want some ice cream, beautiful?”

Your face lit up and Rafe giggled. You were always in the mood for ice cream, something he noted when you were thirteen. Every time he has ever asked if you wanted ice cream, your answer has been yes.

“You know I do.”

You snorted at his knowledge of you, at his ability to read you like a book. He nodded and you made your way into the ice cream shop. Rafe made you sit at a table while he ordered and when he brought you the ice cream you beamed up at him.

“Mint chocolate chip, you remembered!”

You exclaimed. It was like Rafe’s thoughts were consumed by you, it seemed he knew everything there was to know about you.

“I remember everything about you, honey.”

You blushed at his remark. You were thankful for this day with him. It was simple and domestic and freeing and you were just thankful.

“This has been fun, Rafael. Thank you.”

You smiled sweetly, meeting his blue eyes with yours, blushing again.

“You’re welcome, pretty girl. But, it’s not over yet. I have one more surprise for you.”

“What else could you possibly have up your sleeve?”

You questioned him with a belly laugh, thinking this sweet boy had already gone above and beyond for you. You both finished off your ice cream and Rafe led you back to the truck, following his routine of buckling you in before he made his way inside. He definitely liked doing it, no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.

The ride was quiet and after fifteen minutes, he pulled into the public beach parking lot. He helped you out of the vehicle once again, grabbing the picnic basket, along with your bag of necessities, and placing it on his shoulders. He carried that bag as if his life depended on it. Once you made it down to the sand, he laid out the white knitted blanket he had brought with him and instructed you to sit down, while he unpacked the picnic basket.

“These are for you. I know they’re your favorite.”

Rafe spoke matter-of-factly, pulling the pink tulips out of the basket and handing them to you. Your smile was giddy and you couldn’t contain yourself. You’d jump his bones right here if you knew you wouldn’t get arrested.

“Rafe, these are so beautiful!”

You exclaimed, joy written on your features. He loved that look on you. The joy.

“I’m glad you like them.”

He giggled and put his arm around you, placing his hand on the other side of your hip in the sand.

“You just seem to know all my favorite things.”

Blush infiltrated the pores of your cheeks.

“It’s not hard if you pay attention.”

His words meant more to you than anyone’s ever had before, but the truth of them stung. This is what love is supposed to feel like, to be like and now you know why you didn’t miss JJ. Because he wasn’t the one and Rafe was. Rafe’s next line of questioning brought you out of your head.

“Are you hungry, sweet girl?”

He questioned with soft eyes.

“I could eat.”

You replied, a soft smile on your lips.

“PB & J or Turkey and Mayo?”

He asked, pulling two sandwiches out of the basket.

“PB & J.”

You replied.

He ever so slowly plated the sandwiches and put apple slices with caramel sauce beside them.

“Here you go, m’lady.”

“Rafe, this is so sweet.”

You gushed, heart almost bursting at the seams for the effort he put into this.

“Water or champagne?”

His line of questioning continued.

“Depends, what are we celebrating?”

“Just me, being here, with you.”

“Champagne it is then.”

Rafe took the two glasses out of the picnic basket, handing you yours to hold while he poured it. He looked up at your face, golden hour making the hues of orange, yellow, and pink dance across your face. He noticed something on your cheek, right near your lip - a scar, medium size, white in color, in a jagged line. His fingers traced over it as he finished pouring your beverage. You shied away from his touch.

“I’m sorry, angel.”

He looked defeated, afraid he had done the wrong thing. This perfect day, did he just fuck it up? He wondered.

“It’s okay. No worries.”

You smiled at him and leaned into him, placing your head on his shoulder.

“Can you tell me what that’s from?”

He asked. He needed to know at some point, you knew that. But, that didn’t mean the conversation would be easy or that he wouldn’t get angry.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know, Rafe.”

He was taken aback, what was so bad that you thought he wouldn’t want to know. He wanted to know about every scar that littered your body.

“Believe me when I say this, I most certainly do.”

You huffed, loudly.

“You promise you won’t get mad?”

“I promise, angel.”

Your vision clouded with unshed tears, you had never had to explain to him the abuse you face from JJ and it would never be easy to talk about.

“I-it’s from JJ.”

You let the words sit in the thick air between you and Rafe.

“What do you mean it’s from JJ?”

Rafe’s eyes were laced with bewilderment and confusion.

“F-from the first t-time.”

Your voice became shaky, weak.

“The first time for what, y/n?”

“The f-first time he punched me in the f-face.”

“What the fuck did you just say?! He punched you in the face?!”

Rafe questioned, a fire in his eyes that you’d never seen before.

“Y-you said you wouldn’t get mad.”

Rafe looked up at you, tears falling freely down your face.

“Hey, hey, I’m not mad, baby. Come here.”

He reached out for you and lunged for him, clinging as tightly as you could to his middle, crying into his button-down.

“Tell me what happened, angel. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’d never hurt you. I’d never dream of putting my hands on you, of hurting you.”

He rocked you back and forth, peppering kisses into your hairline. Waiting until your breathing had become normal before he stopped, just sitting with his chin on top of your head.

“He abused me the entire year we were together. It started when I told him I wasn’t ready to lose my virginity, that I was saving it for the right person.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

“The first time he hit me, I still had braces on my teeth. Cut right through my cheek, that’s what the scar is from. I had to get 7 stitches.”

He didn’t say anything, mostly because he knew that there was nothing he could say to make it better. He just squeezed you tighter and wondered how the fuck he was going to kill JJ Maybank.

“Listen, angel, I don’t want you working at the club with him.”

Rafe’s tone revealed how uneasy he truly was.”

“I know. The first day you came to see me at work, he showed up that night. Told me to remember who I belonged to. I haven’t felt safe without you there, ever since.”

“Baby, let me talk to dad and see how serious he is about wanting you to come work for him.”

“You’d do that?”

You looked up at him, shocked he would help you find work elsewhere when he didn’t have to. It wasn’t his responsibility.

“You have no idea the things I’d do for you, sweet girl.”

The words were heavy and somehow you knew he meant every single one.

taglist:

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

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron prompt #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafecore #proclivity #proclivity rafe #ex bff!rafe x diabetic!reader

81 notes · View notes

rushingheadlong · 7 months ago

Text

I’ve anonymized this ask because I actually want to talk about this publicly but I want to respect their desire to not have their name attached to this conversation.

(Usual warnings for length, also CW for discussions of homophobia. Because of how this ask was worded we're going to engage with the possibility of Brian being queer, but there are criticisms about some specific ways the fandom discusses that. If any of that sounds upsetting to you, just skip over this post.)

First, a fairly significant correction: I didn’t say that Harold wasn’t the biggest contributor to “Brian staying in the closet” at all. I’m going to talk about that assumption of queerness later, but this is what I actually said in my tags:

#it's really REALLY clear that at the VERY least his upbringing by Harold impeded Brian's ability to fully explore himself #and his identity/attractions/etc. the way he should have been able to #(tho I don't think Harold was the biggest/only contributor to that but. idk.)

Which I think is fairly self-explanatory but, to break it down more simply, based on all the evidence we have of what Harold was like as a person it seems that he was an extremely traditional patriarch who expected Brian to grow up and fulfill the same role within his own family. We know that they had major clashes over this and from interviews we know that Brian struggled with feeling inadequate as a husband and father specifically because he couldn’t step into the patriarchal role that he felt pressured to fill.

From there, I don’t think it’s unfair to extrapolate out and say that an upbringing that pushed that very traditional view of manhood would likely have also included other “traditional” ideas i.e. misogyny, homophobia, etc. The misogyny is easy to confirm, not just through Brian’s earlier songs (like Son and Daughter) but through later comments on his parents’ marriage that revealed specific ways that Ruth May was absolutely subservient to her husband while he was alive.

The homophobia I don’t think can be “confirmed” in the same way, although I do recall once reading an interview with Brian where he admitted to having to let go of homophobic ideas he used to hold in his youth (though I cannot for the life of me find that interview now, so take that with a grain of salt). But regardless of the extent of homophobia, if it was there I again don’t think it’s unfair to say that that would have impeded any potential experimentation with men at least in Brian’s younger years - I mean for one thing, Brian has already specifically said that he declined the advances from men while on tour even though he didn’t decline when propositioned by women.

If you want to theorize that Brian is some form of queer you can look at him turning down offers from men as possibly a sign of internalized homophobia due to his upbringing. It’s possible that even after Brian unlearned those prejudices with regards to other people, that he couldn’t unlearn them with regards to himself. It’s possible that Brian privately acknowledged his queerness, but felt that acting upon it would be somehow a “worse” betrayal of his marriage than cheating with another woman.

However, it’s also possible that there was no internalized homophobia at play at all and that Brian’s actions and comments (or lack thereof) are driven by concerns about the band, with really nothing to do with Harold at all. We already have Freddie saying, on multiple occasions in both the 70s and 80s, that if he were to be more open about his own sexuality that it would ruin Queen forever. If Brian were also queer it would make sense for him to have the same reservations about saying anything, and those reservations could have been enough to make him hesitant to be with another man at all for fear of rumors spreading.

(ETA: Not to mention, the AIDS crisis could have been a deterrent to try anything as well, especially if he hadn't already by then. That wasn't too uncommon among men who lived through that time.)

There’s also the issue that if Brian were queer, any reservations he had about coming out were likely compounded after Freddie’s death, because there’s simply no way to make that announcement now without Freddie’s name being attached to things whether it should be or not. There would be speculation about whether Brian and Freddie were ever more than “just” friends, speculation about the full extent of Brian’s history with men, speculation about the validity of his marriages to Chrissy and Anita, speculation about Roger and John and if they knew or if they were also queer… The tabloids would have a fucking field day with an announcement like that and it would reverberate throughout Brian’s life, impacting not only himself but his closest friends and family, as well as all his relationships suddenly becoming hyper-scrutinized by people intent on “proving” what is “real” or “not real” about any of them.

Even if you want to believe that that wouldn’t happen and people would only react positively to such an announcement, I need you to step back and consider what sort of comments you consider “supportive” and if that’s actually how they would be received. An entire fandom of RPF shippers crying “I told you so!” and descending on his IG to ask invasive questions isn’t supportive. A world that nitpicks identities to make sure that people are using the “right” ones isn’t supportive. A culture where “jokes” about single-gender schools turning people gay are still prevalent isn’t supportive (and when I am still seeing people defend comments about Freddie’s boarding school playing a role in his own identity, you can’t tell me that people wouldn’t make the same jabs about Brian if they got the chance).

I think it’s safe to say that Harold’s view did have an impact on how Brian explored himself and his identity because we already know for a fact that those views deeply impacted the entirety of his first marriage, to the point that Brian has said that he likely wouldn’t have gotten married to Chrissy at all if it wasn’t for pressure from his father.

(ETA: But I don't think you can safely say that Harold was the biggest/only contributor to how Brian explored his own identity when you consider the overall time period we're talking about, and the complications of both the band and Brian's existing marriage. And with regards to his attraction to women specifically, Brian has already made it clear that that was impacted by the lack of socialization with girls at school, not his father.)

But to engage with your question, if Brian is queer I think it’s far more likely that Brian has stayed in the closet due to concerns about the response, to protect the privacy of himself and those closest to him, and out of respect for Freddie’s own legacy, rather than because of specific views of his father, especially since both of his parents have been dead for decades now.

Now, this isn’t what you asked in your question but I do also want to address the phrasing of “Brian staying in the closet” because I think it’s actually rather worrying that that’s what was taken from my tags.

Is it impossible for Brian to be queer? No, of course not, and to be honest if he did ever come out I wouldn’t actually be surprised. However I am begging this fandom on my hands and knees to remember that Brian has said that he’s straight on multiple occasions.

Here’s him calling himself heterosexual in 1993, shortly after Freddie’s death:

And here’s him saying that he’s not attracted to men a decade later in 2003:

There’s nothing wrong with talking what-ifs but you have to keep in mind what Brian has actually said himself. Even more importantly, you absolutely have to be mindful of what you’re using as “evidence” of queerness because, while it doesn't happen all the time, it is very common in this fandom for that sort of speculation to run straight into stereotyping and, by extension, homophobia.

A man will never be queer simply because he wears jewelry/nail polish/women’s clothing/etc., or because he’s friends with other queer men or wrote songs for them, or because he was unhappy in a heterosexual marriage, or because he’s done drag a few times, or because he’s spoken out about queer rights and history, or because his music resonates with queer people today.

These are all reasons I’ve seen given for why Brian “has” to be queer… but why? Why do you think that wearing things typically worn by women makes a man queer? Why are you so quick to disregard the existence of any femininity in straight cis men? Why do you think that people can’t support the queer community unless they’re queer themselves? Why do you think that your feelings about Brian’s music are any indication of what he actually meant, when it's incredibly common for people to attribute meanings to songs contrary to what the artist intended?

I don’t think that most people who point to these sorts of things as “evidence” of queerness are being consciously, maliciously homophobic but it absolutely is homophobic to reduce these traits down to one-dimensional stereotypes in order to argue that because Brian does XYZ that means he must be queer. I mean, do I really have to break down why it’s problematic to enforce binary gender norms by saying that Brian wearing necklaces is proof of queerness, as if straight men are somehow physically impossible of also wearing necklaces?

There are absolutely more respectful ways to talk about "evidence" of queerness and the OP mentioned in this ask is a great example of that, by using direct words Brian has said specifically about his sexuality, attraction, and relationships to make their point rather than relying on stereotypes about looks or behaviors.

Because if you're going to have these conversations, you have to acknowledge what Brian has actually said. That includes his comments about heterosexuality and attraction to women and, furthermore, acknowledging those comments is not the same as denying any possibility that he's queer.

Brian is an English baby boomer and you cannot separate that from these sorts of discussions. It’s very common for people of his generation to have ideas and identities that are directly at odds with the philosophies of younger generations, and pretending otherwise - or condemning those things for being “wrong” - requires you to completely ignore and rewrite actual queer history in order to do so.

If you look at how people have identified throughout the 20th and 21st centuries, you’ll find a ton of examples of people proudly using seemingly “wrong” labels for themselves. Tom Robinson, author of the song “Glad to Be Gay”, continued to identify specifically as a gay man for years after marrying a woman. Phill Jupitus, a former stand-up comedian, once had an entire 20-minute podcast where he talked about his past sexual encounters with and continuing attractions towards men while identifying the entire time as a straight man and not bisexual. Hell my best friend for over a decade is a queer man married to a woman who still identifies as a lesbian for deeply personal reasons that are unlikely to ever change.

As a queer man myself, I would love to see discussions about this that acknowledge that kind of nuance. I would love to see people approach this conversation by asking why Brian identifies as straight instead of just looking for proof that he’s lying about his identity.

Because if you want to talk about the possibility of Brian being queer, what does it then mean that he chooses to publicly identify as straight instead? Does he claim that label because he doesn’t identify with queerness at all, because he feels obligated to because of his relationships with women, or because he feels those relationships are more representative of who he is?

What does it say about the dynamics among Queen if the others always assumed something, but never said? Or if Brian only told Roger and John after the fact in the 90s? Or if Brian made the choice to never say anything to them either? Disregarding shipping entirely, what would it say about Brian’s friendship with Freddie if he knew the singer was gay but never shared a hint of his own queerness in return?

What does it say - about Brian, the band, the fandom, society - if Brian is indeed making a conscious choice to hide any attraction to men? And we do need to include the fandom here, because while it’s tempting to assume that nothing we do makes it way back to the band that’s really not the case at all. The official Queen discord server has had to make multiple statements not to post about shipping etc. and there were innumerable comments on Brian’s own IG page post-borhap accusing him and Roger of homophobia because of the movie. Discussions of Brian’s relationship to queerness have already reached his sphere of influence, whether we wanted it to or not.

We’re in a time where the prevalence of social media is wearing down the concept of personal privacy and making people feel entitled to information about celebrities that’s none of their business at all. We’ve seen this with Kit Connor being forced to come out after Heartstopper due to accusations of "queerbaiting" and F1nnster delaying coming out due to fears of backlash from not using the “right” label. Or if you want an example from an older generation, when Con O’Neill came out he said he was doing so because he felt ready but there is still rampant speculation in the fandom that part of his reasoning was in response to the queerphobia being leveled at Izzy Hands fans.

Let me repeat that: a queer man explicitly said he was coming out because he felt personally ready to do so, and a wide swath of fans have already made it about themselves and their fandom experiences.

These celebrities are far from being isolated cases. There are countless others who have been forced into making deeply personal decisions based not on what feels right to them, but what will appease the crowds of strangers who watch and follow them.

So, since the original question was about that post on Harold, let's bring it back to that point with one final question from myself:

If Brian is in fact queer, do you think that his long-dead father is really the biggest reason that a world-famous multi-millionaire twice-knighted astrophysicist rockstar may still be choosing to stay in the closet after all this time?

One final note that anyone who engages with this post in bad-faith is being blocked. I have neither the desire nor spoons to argue with anyone who insists that this fandom isn't homophobic or that their homophobia is somehow different because they mean well by it.

#text #long post //#ramblings #brian #I've read over this 9000 times and had my friend review it and I'm still not sure posting is a good idea #at least I can disable reblogs down the road if this turns into a fucking nightmare in my notifs #I want to assume this ask was sent in good-faith which is why I'm answering but... we'll see I guess #ETA: I keep making edits to add more clarifying points and I need to just Stop #idk if I actually answered the question but either you vibe with what I'm trying to say or you don't #I'm not gonna try to make this clearer because I don't think it's actually helping

17 notes · View notes