#i just don’t think he’s got a 50s Hollywood face | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

Text

Seasons of PD: Season 5: PTSD (A Halstead brothers + Halstead! sister imagine)

As always, I don't own any quotes from 5x01 of Chicago PD!

Your age: 16

Jay's age: 30

Will's age: 32

"I just talked to Ballistics. The bullet that hit the little girl was a nine-millimeter."

"I thought the bangers were firing 45s."

"They were."

"You're saying I shot that little girl?"

That. That was the conversation that was replaying in Jay's head as he sat on the couch of his apartment that afternoon. How could he call himself a cop, a good cop, if it was him who shot that girl? He should've known that there an illegal daycare center there, even though no one could've known, he still should've figured it out somehow. But, he was taking heavy fire and he did what he needed to do. But, that didn't make him feel any better. A little girl was in critical condition and fighting for her life at Chicago Med because of him. It was all his fault.

***

Your mind wandered back to the day earlier in the year when it was your sixteenth birthday...and you had gotten the iPhone that was currently blowing up with Twitter notifications all about Jay.

You had gone for breakfast with your dad because he had completed the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous and was doing a lot better. He also had visitation rights after he completed the 12 Steps, so he had the right to see you. Since you were 16, you could refuse, but you didn't want your dad to feel bad. And, from what you had heard from Will who had been going to see how he was doing to see if it was safe for you to see him, he was doing really well.

During breakfast, he had given you a gift. You opened it and immediately recognized the bracelet.

"Is this Mom's?" you asked. "I thought you said you couldn't find it when I asked for it when I was like ten."

"I've kept it all these years, I was just waiting for the right time to make sure you'd be able to take care of it and not lose it."

You remembered playing with the charm bracelet when you were little when it dangled off your mom's wrist. There were a bunch of different charms from places she had gone, such as Mount Rushmore, Washington DC, a record charm that she had bought in Hollywood, and for other special occasions, such as a steering wheel charm she got from her parents when she got her driver's license, a graduation cap she got for graduation which she also got from her parents, a wedding dress charm which symbolized the day she married your dad, among other charms.

"Thank you," you replied as you held back tears.

He'd changed, he'd recovered, but there's still no way you'd go back to live with him.

***

"How was breakfast with Dad?" Jay asked as you walked into the apartment after you had breakfast.

"Good. He's doing really good, Jay." You walked up to him and opened the small gift box you were holding. "He gave me this." You held the box out to him and he smiled.

"Mom's charm bracelet?" You nodded. "Want me to put it on you?"

"Please."

Jay's breath hitched as he took the bracelet out of the box. It was like he was holding a little piece of his mom, and this piece of your mom would forever be with you the moment he fastened the clasp.

"It's perfect," you said as you fiddled with a few charms.

You both sat in silence for a few moments, just thinking about the fact that this was your mom's and it was now yours.

"Ready to go get your license?" Jay asked, breaking the silence.

"Is that even a question? Yes!"

You had taken your driver's test a week ago after completing the long process of going through two segments of driver's training classes, taking a written test, securing your learner's permit, and accumulating 50 or more hours of driving practice with either Jay or Will.

Jay chuckled at your excitement. "You good with how you look? You'll have the same license photo until you're 21, you know?"

"Let me go put on some lipstick!"

"Not that super dark reddish-purple one!"

"Yes, that super dark reddish-purple one! It's my favorite and it looks good on me!" you yelled as you ran to your room.

Once you had applied your lipstick, you and Jay made your way to the Secretary of State with all the necessary documents for you to get your license.

***

"Why's my license vertical and not horizontal like yours?" you asked after you exited the building with your brand new license.

"You get a horizontal one when you're 21. Just makes it easier for us cops to identify if you're underage if we ask for your license. And for bartenders to know you're underage if you try to buy alcohol."

"Oh, okay."

"You wanna drive?" Jay asked you.

"Sure. It's no different than me having my permit, though because you'll be in the car," you pointed out.

"So, you don't want to drive."

"No, I do!"

"That's what I thought."

He handed you the keys and you unlocked his truck. You both got in and you started adjusting the seat and the rearview mirror.

"Don't forget to--"

"Adjust the side mirrors. I know, Jay, I know. We've been through this a ton. Trust me."

"You're essentially driving a missile down the road, excuse me if I get nervous."

You rolled your eyes and started to drive, but when you were supposed to turn right, he told you to go left.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"The district," he answered.

"Why?"

"You'll see. Just drive. I'll give you directions because we both know you're bad with those."

"Shut up!"

"What? We both know it's true!"

"No comment."

When you got there, Jay told you to park in front of what he called the "roll-up". To say you were confused would be an understatement; you didn't even know what this was!

"It's where we load our weapons and drive out sometimes. It's the basement," Jay explained.

"Where the cage is?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Adam told me about it. And then when you and Erin were on a lunch run for everyone, he showed it to me."

"I'm gonna have to talk to him about that."

Once you finished parking, you turned off the car and handed the keys back to Jay. Then, Jay did this weird, complicated knock on the garage door of the roll-up.

"Surprise!"

You were met with Will standing there. Behind him, was a car, with a bow on top.

"Is this mine?" you asked.

"Yup," Will confirmed. "Dude," he said to Jay, "You're lucky Goodwin let me out early."

"2010 Buick," Jay said as you walked over to examine the car more. "Seized it from a mob boss two weeks ago. It was going to be impounded, but Kev's got a really good car guy, so I didn't have to pay a lot for it."

"Wait," you started, "So this is just from you, Jay?"

"My gift is in your driver's seat," Will said and then he tossed you the keys. Somehow you caught them...you weren't the best when it came to hand-eye coordination.

You unlocked it using the fob and opened the driver's side door. There, on the driver's seat, was a box. And, not just any box: an Apple box.

"Is this...?"

"Open it." Will smiled.

So you did and you squealed so loud that Jay covered his ears. "Damn, high-pitched screams...sometimes worse than the sound of gunshots."

"Sorry! I'm just so excited! I can't believe I got a car and iPhone! You guys are the best! I love you guys so much!"

"We figured it'd save me a ton of time in the morning not to have to drive you to school and, if I get called into a case early or stay at work late, then I wouldn't have to find someone to drop you off or pick you up. And, figured I could always track your phone if necessary," Jay answered.

"I knew there was a catch," you answered.

"Always is," Will joked.

"Are there traps still in the car?" you asked, causing Jay's eyes to go wide.

"How do you know about those?"

"I watch crime shows."

"No," he answered. "Made sure that was one of the very first things Kev's car guy did: remove the traps."

"Aw, man! I was gonna have fun with those!"

"And put what in them?" Will asked. "Candy? Those fancy pens you like?"

"One, there's two different kinds I like: Papermate pens and calligraphy pens. And two, a little bit of this, a little bit of that."

"Care to specific on what those might be?" Jay asked.

"Not really."

"May I remind you that I am a cop and can toss your bedroom like--" He snapped his fingers. "--that."

"Don't you need a warrant for that?"

"It's my house, so I can do what I want. And, I hope I don't need to bring charges against you for whatever you're hiding."

You burst out laughing. "You guys, I'm kidding. I just wanted to see Jay's reaction when I mentioned traps! I wouldn't do anything...especially with Jay as my brother. I'm not that stupid."

"Oh thank God," Jay sighed.

"Can we go? A little birdie let it slip that there's a surprise party for me at the apartment."

Will glared at Jay. "What?" Jay asked as he put his hands up in a sign of surrender. "I promise you I did not say a single word about it."

"Mhm." Will rolled his eyes.

"Y/N, would this little birdie be Ruzek?" Jay asked.

"No comment."

"I am never telling him anything remotely secretive again."

But now, you kinda wished you didn't have that phone. Because, all over Twitter, there were people who didn't even know your brother who was saying that he was a racist cop and a child killer.

***

You walked inside to see a very distraught Jay. he was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. And, even though you could only see one side of his face from where you were standing, you could see the dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

"So, it's true?" you asked. Jay jumped and looked at you. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"H-How do you know what happened?"

You sat down next to him. "Twitter. My mentions were blowing up."

"Y/N, you gotta believe me. I wouldn't intentionally shoot a little girl--"

"Jay, I believe you."

"At least she's at Med. Will said she's got a good chance of making it."

"Oh, you didn't hear." He furrowed his eyebrows. "She passed away. I got a notification about it like an hour ago. I'm so sorry, Jay."

"Fuck," was all he said as he buried his head in his hands and began sobbing.

You wanted to comfort him, you really did, but you had no idea what to say. You knew Jay was a good cop and, whatever happened, you knew that he wouldn't purposely kill an innocent little girl. So, you just put a hand on his shoulder as he continued to sob, reminding him that you were still there.

"I'm gonna go talk to Will," he said as he stood up a few minutes later.

He walked over to the kitchen sink and splashed his face with water and dried it with some paper towels while you walked over to him.

"I'll drive you," you told him. "You're not in any shape to be driving right now. I know you'd tell me the same thing."

"No, Y/N, I can drive myself."

"This isn't up for discussion, Jay."

"Yes, it is. My picture's all over the internet. If someone decides to come after me, I don't want you near me out in public. I need you to be safe. Just stay here. Please." His voice cracked on the last word.

"Fine."

"Thank you."

"But please try your best to get home in one piece."

Jay nodded and grabbed his jacket. "I'll be back soon."

But, what he was thinking was totally different. After what I did, I don't deserve to come home in one piece.

***

Jay stormed into the ED just as Will was leaving a treatment room and Will caught sight of Jay and walked towards him.

"You said she was gonna make it!" Jay practically yelled.

"Hey," Will said, quieter, trying to use his trying-to-calm-down-a-patient-voice to hopefully make Jay calm down.

"You said she was gonna..." Jay took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"Hey, I said she had a chance, okay? She was in bad shape. Lost too much blood."

"I know."

"There's only so much we can do."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just...the bullet came from my gun. Even though I was aiming at an offender, it went through his abdomen and through a fucking door and into her, Will. Even though it was an accident, I still shot her. I killed an eight-year-old little girl. I killed her."

***

"50-21 George!" Jay yelled into his radio. "I'm taking heavy fire! I got two civilians down in the north alley behind the building."

"This is Sergeant Hank Voight. Advise responding units to shut down a two-block radius."

"Help! Help!"

Jay turned his attention to the building and when he saw it was clear, he pushed open the wooden door and entered.

He nearly choked when he saw what happened.

It was you. You were eight years old, clutching Beary in one hand while Hailey held you and tried to stop the bleeding.

"Y/N!" He had no idea why you were even here, maybe your parents couldn't afford a good, legal daycare center because of your mom's medical bills, but whatever it was, you were here, and you had somehow been shot. He kneeled down next to you and all but threw his sniper on the ground.

"Alright, I'm gonna call an ambulance," Hailey said.

"We don't have time." Somehow, he was aware of where his keys were in his tactical gear. "Go get my car. Fast."

He handed over the keys. "Ready?" Hailey asked as Jay positioned his hands above hers to try and stop the bleeding the minute she removed her hands.

Jay nodded and quickly replaced Hailey's hands with his as she sprinted off to get his truck.

But, then the scene changed.

It became hotter. Jay could feel the dry heat in his mouth and in his throat. He felt the sweat trickle down his face and back. He felt beads of sand on his hands and arms. He looked down to see you resting your head against his leg. And, he wasn't in his normal clothes that he'd wear to work. No, he was in his Rangers uniform.

He had his hands over the same spot on your chest as he had in the daycare center. And, you still had Beary in your hand, albeit a very loose grip on him.

You coughed, causing some blood to come out of your mouth.

"No, Y/N, not like this. Not like this." He removed one hand from the wound and applied all the pressure he could with one hand while he reached for his radio. "This is Halstead to Base." Crackles. "This is Halstead to Base." More crackles. "Please. This is Halstead to Base. I need a med truck now! My sister's been shot." No response. "Please. She's only-- She's only eight years old." His voice cracked. "Please."

You coughed once more and Jay knew trying to reach Base was useless at this point. Jay took his canteen and dabbed a little bit of water on your face and smeared it around, trying to clean the blood off your face. But, as fast as he could clean it, more would come up and out of your mouth.

You let out a strangled breath. Jay knew that sound. That was the sound of someone's last gasp of air that they'd ever take.

"Y/N, please. Please, Short Stack. Stay with me. Help will come. Please, just hang on a little longer."

Then, he saw the all too familiar look of empty eyes in front of him. He let out a strangled sob as he placed his fingers on your eyelids and gently pulled them closed.

Jay shot up in bed with a start. He reached for his chest, feeling for his radio to try and call for help again. It was only when his fingers brushed his bare chest that he realized that he wasn't in the desert of Afghanistan, but in the safety of his own bed, in his own apartment, here stateside, here in Chicago.

He went into the bathroom after his breathing calmed down and jumped into a freezing cold shower, hoping to get the image of an eight-year-old you being shot and killed by his gun out of his head.

But it wouldn't leave.

Jay dried off and then quietly made his way out of his room and over to yours.

He crouched down by your bed and watched as your chest rose and fell, signaling that you were in a deep sleep. You were sleeping on your side and had one leg thrown over the other and a few toes sticking out from under the covers. Beary was next to you. You weren't clutching him like in his nightmare, hell you weren't even holding him, but he was still in your bed. Jay was pretty sure that if that bear wasn't in your bed at night, you wouldn't be able to sleep, despite you being sixteen.

Jay longed to put two fingers to your neck just to check your pulse and make sure he wasn't hallucinating the rising and falling of your chest. But, he knew that was paranoid. He could trust his instincts now. After all, he was awake. There was no stifling heat, no hot sweat (at least, after his shower there wasn't), and no sand. All that was below him was the fluffy rug on your bedroom floor.

He slowly left your room and went back to his. But, instead of getting into bed, he tugged his comforter off his bed and grabbed his pillow. Then, he dragged those two things back into your room and settled down on your rug.

He knew it was probably paranoia, but after that dream, he wanted to make sure you were safe. He wanted to be close to you. Because, God, that dream felt so real.

She's alive, he kept reminding himself as he tried to fall asleep. And, that was the last thing on his mind when he finally fell asleep once more: that you were still alive.

***

Your alarm blared through your quiet room and you rolled over with a groan and turned it off.

"Christ, that was loud. How deep of a sleeper are you?" Jay asked as he rolled over.

You looked at him with sleep still in your eyes. "What are you doing in here?"

"Was a rough night." He yawned. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Okay...?"

"I say ten more minutes."

"Jay, I'll be late."

"I'll drive you, lights and sirens and all."

"Night."

***

"You okay?" you asked around 11:00 pm two weeks later when Jay finally got home from working a case.

"Yeah, just tired," he answered as he went to put his badge and gun away in his room.

"Are you sure it's just that?" you asked when he came out from his room in pajamas.

"I'm sure. Why are you asking?"

"You had that street fair bombing case and two weeks ago, a bullet from your gun--"

"Y/N, I'm fine. I promise. don't you have to get to bed?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday. I don't have school tomorrow."

"So it is. I'm gonna turn in. See you in the morning."

"Aren't you gonna eat something?" you asked.

"I'm not really that hungry. Goodnight."

You knew something was off, but you weren't going to push it, so you just grabbed the remote and started looking for a movie to watch.

***

You coughed, causing some blood to come out of your mouth.

You let out a strangled breath. Jay knew that sound. That was the sound of someone's last gasp of air that they'd ever take.

"Y/N, please. Please, Short Stack. Stay with me. Help will come. Please, just hang on a little longer."

Then, he saw the all too familiar look of empty eyes in front of him. He let out a strangled sob as he placed his fingers on your eyelids and gently pulled them closed.

He saw a figure moving towards him and in his hand, a grenade.

"Would you like to join her?"

Jay jolted awake, breathing raggedly. He tried to catch his breath and swallow, but it was no use, the familiar feeling of bile was rising in his throat and he dry heaved all the way to the bathroom before he finally emptied what little was in his stomach into the toilet.

Meanwhile, you furrowed your eyebrows as you slowly opened your eyes. You thought you had heard gagging, but it was gone now, so you tried to close your eyes and go back to sleep. But, then you heard gagging and the sound of something hitting what sounded like water.

Wait, was Jay sick? He never got sick.

You got out of bed and walked over to his room and quietly opened his door. From the dim light of the bathroom, and the disheveled covers on his bed, you knew he was in the bathroom.

"Jay?" you asked as you crept towards his bathroom.

"Y/N, l-leave. Please, just leave me alone ri-right now." You could tell from the sound of his voice that he was panting as if he had just run a marathon.

"Are you okay?"

No. "I'm fine. Just a stomach bug or food poisoning. Go back to bed."

You poked your head into the bathroom. Jay was leaning against the bathtub without a shirt on, with sweat dripping down his face. His mouth was wide open as if he was trying to capture as much oxygen as was humanly possible.

"Maybe I should call Will. I don't think he's on shift."

"Y/N, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You don't look fine at all."

"Y/N, go back to bed. Now."

"But--"

"I said go to bed! So how about you listen for once and just fucking do that? Jesus!"

Your breath caught in your throat. You'd never heard him yell like that...not directed at you at least.

"O-Okay."

You trudged back to your room and laid down. But, sleep didn't come for a while as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Jay put his head in his hands. He had yelled at you. Not only that, but he had sworn at you and you were just trying to help. God, he felt like a terrible brother, a terrible guardian, an overall terrible human being.

He tugged at the roots of his hair, hoping the bit of tugging from that physical pain would calm the mental and emotional pain that had been stirring inside of him for weeks. For weeks he's been like this. Ever since he had been put on his medication, he hadn't even had a nightmare and now he's had them every single day, and he's scared to sleep. What kind of police detective and ex-army ranger is afraid to sleep when they're safe in their own house? He was one of them and, God, he hated himself for it.

Not getting more than three restless hours of sleep per night was starting to have an impact on him at work. They all knew that a sleepy cop was a dead cop, but Jay was still alive. But, there were downfalls, such as getting jittery from all the caffeine he was ingesting early in the morning and then crashing and almost falling asleep doing reports when he had to work late. Well, he didn't have to work late per se, he decided to work late to put off sleeping. He knew none of this was helpful and none of this would solve the problem, but he thought it would be fine. Everything would be fine and the nightmares would eventually go away. They always do. And then everything would be normal again in his brain.

God, he longed for that: the normalcy.

So, for the umpteenth night in a row, he grabbed a pillow and a blanket and made his way to your bedroom to sleep on the floor to make sure you were alive. He put his watch on vibrate and set the alarm for 6 am because he knew you wouldn't be awake that early...especially not on the weekend.

Only when the irrational part of his brain was sure that you weren't going to die, did he finally find solace in sleep.

***

Went to get coffee with Will and to work on homework. Be home eventually, you scribbled on a sticky note and stuck it on the back of the apartment door before you left. Jay had gotten called in to work a case earlier this morning, and you needed a change of scenery to work on some AP World History homework.

You grabbed your backpack, keys, and wallet, and made your way to the parking garage. Then, you left.

About ten minutes later, you arrived at the coffee shop. Not seeing Will, you set your stuff down and went to grab a coffee and a muffin. Don't get it wrong, Jay still didn't like the fact that you drank coffee, but you only drank it when you went out to get it. It wasn't like you drank it every morning or drank two or three cups a day like he did.

You started to read your textbook and take some notes on the vocab. You were so focused that you jumped when Will slid into the chair across from you and said your name.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Lots to do?"

"Not a ton," you replied. "Just gotta read a chapter and take some notes. Then I'm done with homework for the weekend."

"So, you said you think something's up with Jay?" Will asked.

You had texted him that morning to see if you could meet up because you were worried. You had seen how tired he looked and how he poured his coffee into a larger tumbler than normal, one that was almost double the size of his normal one. Bags under his eyes and more coffee than normal had given you the impression that Jay was no longer sleeping, and rightfully so.

"I don't think he's sleeping," you told him.

"And you know this how?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because he looks like shit- sorry, he looks like crap, and he drinks a ton more coffee in the morning than he normally does."

"Maybe he just doesn't like the coffee at the district and is bringing more from home," he suggested.

"I don't think so."

"Is he still working out? Still going to the gym?"

"I think so. I'm usually still asleep when he goes, so I wouldn't know either way."

"Anything else?"

"Uh, actually, yeah." You closed your textbook. "I'm pretty sure he was sick last night."

"Sick? Like how sick?"

"He was puking. I wanted to call you but he told me no."

"How'd you find him?"

"Leaning against the bathtub, no shirt, dripping sweat, and mouth wide open."

"I see," Will said. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Last night when I mentioned calling you, he said he was fine. But, when I pushed, he told me to leave and when I told him no, he yelled and cursed at me."

"He swore at you?" Will grit his teeth.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I don't know what's going on, Will. He hasn't been himself lately."

"Hey, I'll figure it out, okay? I'll make sure he's okay. I can even come over later tonight and check him out if you want me to."

"He'll fight you on that."

"I'm used to unruly patients. Is that what you--" His phone rang and he held up a finger to you to wait for a second while he answered. "Hey, Maggie. What's up?" He paused and then sighed. "I'll be right there." He hung up the phone and started gathering his stuff.

"What? Did something happen and you have to go to work?" you asked.

"Oh, something happened all right. I just got a call saying Jay was brought into Med."

You started to pack up your backpack and grabbed your keys. "I'll follow you there."

***

Jay didn't know what happened. One second he was driving, blinking heavily, the next Hailey was yelling at him and had reached over to grab the wheel, but it was too late. He was too close. When he opened his eyes, he tried to slam on the brake, but it didn't help. The next millisecond, he and Hailey crashed into an electrical pole in Pilsen.

He was awake after that.

"What the hell happened?" Voight asked after he had thrown his car in park and he and Al rushed over to Jay and Hailey.

"I think he fell asleep at the wheel," Hailey answered as she and Jay both stepped out of the truck.

"I did not," Jay protested.

"Oh yeah? Then how do you explain you just running into an electrical pole when there weren't even cars running us off the road?" Hailey yelled.

"I didn't fall asleep! I'm fully awake! Just drop it, Upton."

"Drop it? You do know if we would've hit that at full speed and it fell on us that we could've been electrocuted to death, right?"

"But that didn't happen--"

"Halstead, Upton, I'm bringing both of you to Med to get checked out. After that, you're going home to get some rest, Halstead. You look like hell," Voight told them.

"Sarge--"

"This isn't up for discussion. Get in the damn car." The two detectives walked to Voight's car, while Voight turned to Alvin. "Call Platt to get us some patrolmen to help. You good waiting here for them to pick you up while I bring them to Med?"

"Yeah, go. I'll handle this."

When Jay finally got to Med, to say he was not happy would be an understatement. He didn't need to be in the hospital and he sure as hell didn't need to be kicked off the case and told to go home to get some rest.

"Mags, what room is he in?"

Shit, they had called Will.

"Treatment Four."

Will walked into the room followed by you.

"You didn't have to come, neither of you did."

"Well, too bad," Will said. "Should've put her as your emergency contact instead of me. Oh wait, you can't, she's still too young. Guess you're stuck with me."

"All set," Hailey said as she walked in. "You ready to go?"

"Who's this?" you asked.

"My new partner," Jay told you. "Hailey, this is Y/N and Will, my siblings I told you about. Y/N and Will, my new partner, Hailey Upton."

"Nice to meet you. I've heard good things."

Will scoffed. "Would one of those good things be that Jay absolutely hates hospitals and I always have to make sure he doesn't leave against medical advice?"

"He didn't mention that, no."

"Well, either way, nice to meet Jay's new partner. Do you mind if I talk to him? Privately?"

"No problem."

Will turned to you. "You too, Y/N. Go grab some food or hang out with Hailey or something."

Will focused his attention on Jay when you and Hailey had left the treatment room. "Y/N told me she doesn't think you're sleeping and from what I heard from Maggie about why you were brought in here, don't even bother lying to me."

"I'm fine, Will, really. Nothing to worry about."

"Fine then. I'm gonna go order a blood test."

"Blood test? You're not even on shift! And, you can't even be my doctor if you were!" Jay protested.

"I read that April's your nurse, so I'm going to go find her and tell her to order a blood test then."

"Why?"

"To see if your plasma cortisol levels are elevated and if your cortisol testosterone levels have decreased," Will answer matter-of-factly.

"And you need those because...?"

"If the plasma cortisol level is elevated and the cortisol testosterone level is lowered, then those are both indicators that you haven't been sleeping. Be back, little brother."

Jay groaned and threw his head back. He didn't think he'd need to be stuck with a needle today. If only had put someone else down as his emergency contact, then this wouldn't be happening. Or, if his brother just wasn't a doctor or didn't work at this specific hospital then this wouldn't be happening, either.

***

Jay was walking you to school when you were eight years old. On your back, you had your backpack and you were holding Jay's hand and skipping to keep up with his long strides. Jay chuckled at how cute and innocent you were. He didn't want you to ever grow up.

"Jay Jay," you started, causing him to look down at you, "Did you get all the bad guys when you left?"

"Why do you ask?" He swallowed. He knew if you asked the right questions, he might not know how to answer them. And, his last tour was horrific, losing all the members of his unit except Mouse...the burning Humvee...the combatants still coming towards them...

"I don't know. I just wanted to know if there were any left?" you asked.

"There probably are."

"Do you have to go back there? Do you have to leave again to go fight the bad guys?"

Jay's breath hitched. He was honorably discharged after what had happened, so he wouldn't have to back. But, as he was thinking about how to answer you, the scene changed.

Screaming. All he could hear was screaming and the crackling of flames.

He looked around saw the scene from his last tour, his Humvee flipped over with all the members of his unit currently burning to crisp. He and Mouse had been walking behind, keeping watch of their six which is why they weren't in there.

"Help! Jay Jay, help!" He heard you scream and racked his brain from where that could be coming from because you were an ocean away, no way were you actually there.

"Dude, your sister's in there!" And Mouse took off running.

Jay quickly caught up to him. "What? She's not here! She's at home in Chicago!"

"No, she's not! You couldn't bear to leave her, so you brought her with you!"

Okay, now Jay knew he was caught in the midst of a nightmare because he would never do that. He would never bring a little girl into the midst of a war where she could get hurt or killed. Damn that melatonin he took that night because he was currently in so deep a sleep that he couldn't wake up.

"Jay Jay!"

He took off running again and came up to the edge of the Humvee. Your leg was crushed under it and it was one of the only parts of the vehicle that hadn't caught fire...yet. He needed to get you out and he needed to get you out fast or else you would be burned to death. But, to do that, he knew he'd be sacrificing your leg.

"Mouse! Get me a tourniquet and the biggest knife you have! Make sure you sterilize it!" Jay shouted. You let out a whine.

"You're doing a field amputation?" Mouse asked as he grabbed the supplies.

"I don't have any other choice." You let out a whimper. "Hey, hey, look at me. Focus on me. I'm gonna get you out of there."

"P-Promise?" you asked as tears ran down your cheeks.

"I promise. Now I need you to hold really still and be a brave girl, okay? Can you be brave for me?" You nodded as Mouse handed Jay the equipment for the tourniquet. "This is going to hurt," Jay warned you as he slid the piece of fabric underneath your leg and then started tying it.

You screamed out in agony.

"I know, I know. But, It's gotta be tight. It's gotta be tight, kiddo."

"Jay! Nine o'clock!"

Jay turned to his left and pointed his gun straight at the combatant.

"Jay...Jay..." he heard your voice wavering as you tried to get his attention. But, it didn't sound like your voice. It sounded lower, more mature even. "Jay, please." the voice that sounded like you was pleading now. "Jay Jay, please. You're- You're safe."

Jay snapped his eyes open.

There you were, at sixteen years old, holding your hands up in surrender. He was home, in Chicago.

"Jay, please," you whispered once more.

It was only when he looked down that he realized he must've thought you were the combatant in his dream because he had his service weapon pointed straight at you.

He dropped his gun onto his bed. "Y/N, I- you gotta believe me. That wasn't--"

But you were already running out of his room to grab your keys and get as far away from Jay as possible.

***

Will was awoken to a loud knocking on his door at 2:37 in the morning. "Who the fuck is here right now?" he muttered as he rubbed his eyes and stood up and threw on a shirt.

But, all his anger at being woken up at this ungodly hour washed away as he looked through the peep-hole and saw you, tears still streaming down your face.

He yanked the door open. "Y/N, what are you doing here?"

"He pointed a gun at me!" you wailed as you entered.

Will shut the door and made his way over to you. "Who? Did you tell Jay? Where were you?"

"Jay was the one who did it, Will! He pointed the- the gun right at me!"

Will's breath caught in his throat. He had his hunches that Jay was having nightmares again based on what you had told him and based on him falling asleep while driving and based on his blood work, but he didn't think they'd have gotten this bad. "Are you okay? he asked you quietly.

You shook your head and Will led you over to the couch.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You sighed. "I heard him scream, so I woke up to see what was wrong. When I walked- When I walked into his room he was squeezing his pillow with his hand like he was holding something. He was dripping sweat."

You paused and took a deep breath.

"It's okay," Will told you. Take your time."

"Then, he just, he just whipped around and grabbed his gun from- from on top of his nightstand. I don't why it wasn't in the safe where it usually is. And that's when he..."

"That's when he pointed it at you?"

You nodded as tears rolled down your cheeks. "I said his name over and over and he finally snapped out of it."

"And that's when you came here?"

You nodded again.

"Well, how about we put on a movie, and then you can try to get some sleep. I'll stop over at Jay's tomorrow when you're at school. I'm pretty sure you have some clothes here just in case."

"Thanks, Will."

"No problem, Short Stack."

***

Jay heard a knock on his door the next day. Will had texted him and told him that you were safe and at his place because Jay had been blowing up Will's phone looking for you. So, at least he wasn't worried about that anymore.

Jay sipped his beer and waited for the knocking to stop, but it just became increasingly louder.

"Jay, open the damn door!"

Reluctantly, with beer still in hand, Jay stood up and opened his apartment door. "What the hell are you doing here?" Jay asked.

"Gimme that," Will said as he ripped the beer bottle from Jay's hand after he'd entered his apartment. "And, for your information, I'm making sure you're not drinking yourself to death." He looked around at the two other empty beer bottles on the counter. It wasn't even one o'clock in the afternoon yet. "Which, I guess I came just in time."

"Just let me drink it." Jay tried to take the bottle back, but Will held it out of his reach. Then, he made his way over to the kitchen sink and poured it out.

"Shit, man. I paid for that."

"I don't really give a damn right now, Jay. You pointed a fucking gun at our little sister. She came to my place bawling last night. You're lucky she didn't get into a car accident because of how distraught she was when she was driving."

"I know, I know. I fucked up, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, you fucked up all right. This is probably the single-handed worse thing you've done in your entire life."

"Did you just come here to lecture me?" Jay yelled. "If so, the door's that way and you can get the hell out!"

Will sighed. "I didn't come here just to do that, but I needed to get that out first. You need to talk to someone about this, Jay."

"I'm talking to you. Isn't that enough?"

"A trained professional."

"You are a trained professional."

"I'm a trained medical professional, not a trained psychological professional."

Jay sat on the couch and put his head in his hands. That scene from last night had been replaying in his head for almost twelve hours now.

Him hearing your voice...seeing you with your hands raised while they were shaking...how much of whisper your voice was...the feeling of guilt that swallowed him whole when he noticed he was holding his service weapon...you sprinting out of the house in the middle of the night...

"Jay," Will said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You still with me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm still here. Sorry." He paused. "Last night, I guess I was so out of it that I forgot to lock up my gun and left it on my bedside table. If I had just locked it up, this wouldn't have happened. If I just wouldn't have taken the melatonin, this wouldn't have happened. If I was just able to fucking sleep this wouldn't have happened."

"How long haven't you been sleeping?" Will asked gently.

"The nightmares started when I shot that little girl, Will."

"Jay, it's been weeks since that happened."

"I know. And they just keep getting worse. At first, it was Y/N who was the little girl I shot when I was chasing the offenders when the bullet went through the illegal daycare center. And then, they started turning into me being overseas and Y/N somehow being with me and her being shot over there. Last night- last night was the worst."

"You don't have to tell me what happened if you don't want to."

"Thank you," Jay replied. Because in all honestly, that was one of the worst nightmares he's ever had since getting on his medication.

"Is that why you're sleeping on Y/N's bedroom floor?"

"How'd you know? I didn't even think she knew."

"She knows. She said she'll wake up in the middle of the night and you'll be there, on her floor, with a pillow and a blanket, and you'll sneak out before she wakes up."

"I just, I needed to make sure she was safe. I needed to make sure she was still alive, Will."

"I really think you need to talk to someone. Maybe ask about getting your meds increased."

"I've been on the same dose for over two years now. You really think they'd need to be upped?"

"It's a possibility. But, we need to talk about Y/N now."

Jay sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, we do. I have no idea what to do, Will. I'm supposed to be her legal guardian and I couldn't even keep her safe. I was the one who made her feel not safe."

"I know it's gonna be hard for you to hear this," Will started, "but, she doesn't want to come back here for a little while."

"Yeah, I figured that when she didn't answer my texts."

"Listen, she and I talked this morning, and if you go see someone today or tomorrow and see someone about getting your meds upped, she'd stay with me for two weeks so the meds have time to get into your system, and then we'll go from there."

"So, all I have to do is get my meds upped?"

"Well, that might be the best option. But, I still think you should talk to someone, Jay. Either a therapist or a psychiatrist or even a veteran's support group might be helpful."

"Okay. But, can you just tell her that I'm so sorry? And that, I wasn't in my right mind? I didn't know it was her, I swear."

"I know you didn't. Now, no more drinking, you have appointments to schedule." Will paused. "Have you talked to Voight? Maybe you shouldn't be working while you're trying to figure this out."

"I do not need to take time off."

"Yes, you do. Do you want our little sister to hate you or not?"

"Fine. I'll take two weeks furlough."

"That's all I ask. Please do not get shitfaced because I will babysit you if I have to."

"Then who's gonna stay with Y/N?"

"I'll figure something out."

***

"You're sure I'm good to go back?" you asked Will as you walked into yours and Jay's apartment building.

"Y/N, he hasn't had a nightmare in a week and a half. Everything's gonna be fine," Will answered.

"I know. I know I shouldn't be scared of my own brother, but, uh, what happened that night, it was..."

"Terrifying?" Will finished for you.

"Yeah, that."

"Well, I'll be there the entire weekend in case anything happens."

"Thanks, Will."

***

Later that night, you laid in bed, trying to fall asleep. But, you couldn't. You just couldn't shake the feeling of walking into Jay's room to try and wake him from a nightmare and having a gun pointed right at you. You couldn't shake the feeling that maybe tonight was the night that Jay would have a nightmare and end up sleepwalking into your bedroom with his gun drawn.

So, you were sitting up in bed, at 3:30 am, having just finished your last movie an hour and a half ago with your lamp on and the current book you were reading open.

You heard the sound of your door opening and looked up.

You held your breath.

Jay was in your room.

"Y/N, what are you still doing awake?" he asked, slowly moving closer to you so he didn't scare you.

You sighed in relief. He was conscious. He was awake.

"I can't sleep," you answered honestly.

"Is it because of me? That you can't sleep?" You looked down and that was all the confirmation Jay needed. "Look, I'm sorry. I know I've said it a lot these past few weeks, but I'm truly sorry. You have to understand that it wasn't me."

"I know. I just, you scared you me, Jay. I was scared I was going to die that night."

"Y/N, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that happened."

"And you haven't had any nightmares?"

"None in over ten days," he answered.

"Then why are you in my room? I know you come in here sometimes after you have nightmares."

"I came to make sure you were sleeping. Will mentioned you were nervous and I know you don't like to sleep when you're nervous."

"Oh." You paused. "Can you tell me what you were dreaming about? When you pointed the gun at me?"

"Y/N, I'd really prefer not to. I don't want to go back there."

"I get it," you said. "It's traumatic. Like how even though Dad isn't drinking anymore, I don't want to go back and live with him."

"Exactly."

You moved over. "You can come sit if you want." Jay sat down on the bed next to you and handed you Beary so that he didn't squash him. You closed your book. "Can you tell me a story?"

"Like a fairytale like when you were little and Mom would make me read those princess books to you?" Jay chuckled.

"No, maybe a you and Will story or a me and you story from I was little and don't remember much?"

Jay thought for a second until he found the perfect one filed away in his brain under Y/N stories. "Do you remember that time when you brought your first aid kit on your bike because you had just made it in girl scouts?"

"A little, but not really."

"Okay, I'll tell you that one then."

"Jay Jay!" little seven-year-old you exclaimed as you run up to Jay. "Ride bikes with me?"

"I think my bike has a flat tire, but I can get my skateboard. Is that okay with you?" Jay asked.

"Yeah! But Mommy said you gotta wear a helmet because she said we gotta protect our heads," you told him while putting your hands on your hips.

"That's right! How could I forget that? I'll be right back and then we can go, okay?"

"Okay!"

While Jay ran off to find his bike, you ran off to get your first aid kit that you had just made in girl scouts and Beary to put in the little basket on the front of your purple princess bike.

You waited for him and when he reappeared with his skateboard and helmet, he asked what you had.

"Beary and this I made in girl scouts yesterday," you told him. "It has bandaids and this white tape and white soft stuff and wipies."

You handed it to him to take a look. Inside, there were different sizes of bandaids, medical tape, gauze, and antiseptic wipes. "This is such a good first aid kit, kiddo!"

"Thank you!"

You got your bike out of the garage and clipped on your helmet. Jay pressed down on the horn attached to your handlebars before stepping onto his skateboard.

You two rode down the street and then Jay got to a ramp that some kids had made. There was one ramp, a gap, and then another ramp.

"Jay Jay!" you exclaimed. "Can you go on that?"

Jay had gone on homemade skateboard ramps like those hundreds of times. Hell, he'd even made one home and he and Will would do kickflips in the air when going on it when your guys' mom was home. She'd have a heart attack if she saw her sons doing that.

"I can even do a trick while I'm in the air," Jay told you.

"Really?" you asked, your eyes going wide.

"Really. Wanna see?"

"Yes please!"

Jay started a few yards back from the first ramp and started propelling himself forward, gaining speed. Then, your jaw dropped as he skated onto the first ramp and into the air.

"Whoa," you whispered to yourself as he did his kickflip in midair between the two ramps.

But, Jay had overestimated the distance between the two ramps, so when he landed, he landed on the road and not the ramp with way too much force, causing him to fall off his skateboard and land on the ground, scraping his hands across the road.

"Jay Jay!" you yelled as you quickly kicked down your kickstand and grabbed your first aid kit. "Are you okay?" you asked.

Jay stood up and grabbed his skateboard. "I'm fine. Just a little blood, nothing to worry about."

"You're bleeding? Where? I can fix it."

He held up his right hand where his palm was a little bloody. You started to open your first aid kit and Jay knew there was no point in arguing with you, so he just crouched down to your height.

You grabbed a bandaid and started to open it. "You gotta clean it out first, nurse," Jay told you.

"Oh. With the wipey-thingies?"

"Yes, with those."

You opened one of the antiseptic wipes--with Jay's help because those were really hard to open!--and wiped down his palm. Then, you put the bandaid on.

"All better!" you exclaimed as you put the trash back into your first aid kit. "Can we keep going?" you asked.

"We sure can!"

You ran back to your bike and put the first aid kit into the basket next to Beary and then you got on your bike and caught up to Jay. And then, you were off around the block again.

"We really thought you were going to be a doctor or a nurse after that," Jay said. "But, then you realized you hated both math and science." He looked down at you. "Oh, you're asleep."

He set your book on your nightstand and turned off the lamp. Then, he slowly crept out of your room and closed the door, and went back to his room to fall into a nightmare-less sleep.

Despite Will sleeping on the couch, things were back to normal in yours and Jay's apartment and neither of you could've been happier.

A/N: Hey guys, I wanted to get this posted before I'm away for the weekend and probably without internet. As always, thank you for reading, and please reblog/like and comment! I love hearing what you guys think, as it gives me tons of motivation to keep writing! If you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things

145 notes · View notes

p-redux · 2 years

Note

It's has been that cold. Bullshit. We've been hiking and surfing. Stop with your lying. He looks terrible. Maybe was sick.if he wasn't positive he has no valid reason for postponing NZ and screwing over Graham and the crew there, except for his own screw up on travel which his production company not Starz is responsible for or he just wanted another vacation after 5 he's already had this year . He's suck, an idiot, or the usual narcissist. take your pick.

I just watched the move “Being the Ricardos” about Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, so let me ‘splain some things, oh frothy one.

Los Angeles finally got some sun the last few days, but up until then, for the past two weeks it was COLD and rained most days. Granted, when I say cold, I mean cold by L.A. standards. Most native Angelinos break out the parkas, wool scarfs, beanies, and mittens if it gets below 65, myself included. Having said that, the last few weeks have been in the low 50s AND raining. So, unless you’re from the Midwest, the East or a country with cold winters, NO ONE in L.A. has been hiking or surfing in the RAIN. Actually, let me take that back, the only people surfing are hard core surfers. And they wear wetsuits, when the freaking Pacific water is below 50, ya dope. I cannot stress enough how COLD and RAINY the last few weeks have been in L.A. I don’t remember a Christmas that actually felt like a Christmas and this one did, weather wise. We’re always saying “Aw, man why can’t we get a white Christmas like they write about in all those songs, it’s annoying that Christmas here is 75 degrees and sunny.” Well, THIS year it wasn’t your typical L.A. Christmas. 55 degrees and raining is practically snow here, okay. Have I made it clear how unseasonably cold it felt?

So, don’t come to MY blog to call me a liar. The weather is nice NOW, but it was not for a few weeks. And that’s a FACT. Unless you’re from a place where it actually snows on Christmas, then by all means wear your bikini and go surfing and hiking in 50 degree rainy weather, ya freak. Everyone else was COLD and stayed inside. Capisce?

As for Sam looking “terrible,” um, pretty much every man on this planet would kill to look this ☝ “terrible.” Sam looks great. Baby just has chapped lips, because as I said up above, it’s COLD in L.A. AND L.A. is extremely DRY right now. I’m lathering myself in cocoa butter, olive oil, and 30 year old Crisco, and barely making a dent in keeping my skin from cracking. So, no, Sam doesn’t look sick, he just needs someone to dab some Chapstick on those beautiful lips and some lotion on his angel face, and he’ll be juuuust fine.

And this 👇 pic was just posted a few hours ago, does Sam look “sick” to you? Or maybe you’re just proving that Extreme Shippers and disgruntled Ex-Shippers have bad eyesight and little working cognitive function, and they CONTINUE TO MISCONTRUE REALITY.

Sam obviously had a GOOD REASON for postponing his trip to New Zealand and given he stayed in Los Angeles aka Hollywood aka the entertainment capital of the world, it would seem logical it was WORK RELATED. And had nothing to do with him being a “Covid-ridden idiot narcissist who needed another vacation” to paraphrase you. Trust me, anyone who came to L.A. the last few weeks looking for a warm, sunny holiday was sorely disappointed.

Anon, if you think so badly of Sam, then WHY pay any attention to anything he does? You and yours are SO bitter and miserable. Find a fandom and a celeb that makes you HAPPY.

So, I propose a New Year’s Resolution... take the stick out of your ass, step away from anything having to do with Sam, and go find something that puts a smile on your face. Novel idea, I know.

47 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 3 years

Text

The Last Semester – Part Eighteen

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,407

Warning: Pregnancy Mentioned

Prior Parts: https://queenshelby.tumblr.com/post/659814893025902592/the-last-semester-part-seventeen

YOUR POV

Another week had passed and there was nothing but radio silence from Cillian and you were scrambling to think about what to do.

Emma certainly achieved her goal by publishing this most ridiculous article about your relationship. Clearly, it had an effect on Cillian.

You texted him twice, but received no response. You were heartbroken and riddled with morning sickness. Yet, you carried on as if nothing had happened.

You had started your first teaching job after finishing university and finally found a small apartment in Dublin and you still hadn’t told anyone that you were pregnant. Only your stepmother knew and she promised to keep it a secret until you were ready to talk about it or make a decision about whether or not to keep the baby.

Whilst you didn’t judge anyone who chose to terminate, your choice was likely going to keep the baby. You couldn’t terminate the pregnancy. It wasn’t really an option for you and you were almost certain that you would keep the baby. You knew that you were old enough and mature enough to have this child.

Packing boxes was distracting you. There wasn’t much to pack as you hadn’t unpacked the majority of your belongings since moving from London to start with.

Your stepmother was helping you sort through everything and made a list of things you would need in the near future while looking through the basement to see what she had kept from her last pregnancy which, evidentially, wasn’t much.

It gave her a good excuse to also do the annual spring clean and clear out the rubbish that had accumulated over the years.

‘You know, he’s good with his boys so even if things don’t work out between you, I think you will find that he will be a good dad’ your stepmother said before asking you when you were planning to tell him.

‘I want him to talk to me because of what he feels and not because he has to if he finds out that I am pregnant. I will give it a few weeks and see if he comes around’ you huffed, somewhat upset by Cillian pulling away from you once again.

‘You love him don’t you?’ your stepmother then asked and you nodded, tears running down your face.

‘I just wish he felt the same’ you then said as your emotions were getting the better of you and you broke down.

‘I think he does. He is just scared. There is a lot at stake for him and, honestly, with you being so much younger he might be worried about the longevity of your relationship. He is probably waying things up. This not only impacts his personal life, the kids, but also his career and friendships’ your stepmother explained and you knew that she was right. Yet, you were angry and hormonal.

Cillian’s POV

Over the past two weeks, Cillian had done a lot of thinking. The conflict with your father was just one final straw that had been drawn.

For months, when his agent found out about his relationship with a much younger woman, he had been told to break it off. It was bad for his career, making him a cliché of a Hollywood actor.

Then, there were his sons who had asked questions about you and his ex-wife certainly fuelled the fire when it came to their apprehension. She opposed his new relationship and, whilst he cared little about what she thought about him, Cillian had to communicate with her on a daily basis. After all, she was the mother of his children and they shared custody for them.

Then, of course, there was the fact that you were twenty years younger than Cillian and he worried that, one day, you would realise that you missed out on life and should have been with someone your own age, explore, party and travel. Do what people your age do and not be slowed down by someone so much older. The age gap between you was certainly something that bothered him on a personal level as he thought that, one day, you might change your mind about him and what you wanted.

In Cillian’s mind, the easiest way out was to break it off with you. It would solve all of his problems. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He loved you, he missed you and he wanted to be with you no matter how illogical it was.

Every night, he flicked through your photographs on his phone and he drafted one message after another to you before simply deleting them all, not knowing what to say, knowing that it was better if he didn’t say anything at all.

It wasn’t until Saturday evening, just as you finished packing up for your move, that Cillian slowly came to his senses about what he wanted and texted you with just a little bit of help from his son Charlie.

‘Hey, dad! Did you listen to what I said?’ Charlie asked as Cillian was, once again, lost in his thoughts.

‘I am sorry Charlie. What did you say?’ he asked, looking up from his phone with some help.

‘I want to go to the movies with Janine tomorrow. Is that ok?’ he asked, causing Cillian to raise an eyebrow and sigh.

‘She is only 18 months older than me and you know what?’ Charlie then said, waiting for his father’s reaction.

‘What?’ Cillian chuckled.

‘According to a very not so relevant book I just read, age doesn’t matter unless you are a cheese’ Charlie then said, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘That’s some deep poetry right there’ Cillian chuckled before agreeing to his son’s request and giving him some money to take out Janine.

‘Thanks dad. You know, this goes for you too and if you don’t make a move on Y/N, someone else will snap her up in no time’ Charlie then said with a hint of sarcasm.

‘Oh, you think so?’ Cillian chuckled and, just as he did, Charlie grabbed his father’s phone and began typing in his password.

‘Hey, give that back. I am not joking. I will ground you’ Cillian said somewhat angrily.

‘Well, I am with mum next week so you can’t really do that’ Charlie said as he finished typing before returning the phone to Cillian.

‘Fuck’ Cillian shouted as he read the message from him to you which simply read ‘I miss you’.

‘You just said a swearword. That’s naughty’ Charlie then grinned, causing Cillian to speechlessly stand in the kitchen and think about what to say now.

‘Well, I suppose this will get the conversation going. Thanks for the 50 Euro dad’ Charlie chuckled before walking into his room.

‘Grounded’ Cillian growled.

‘Fine. At least it was worth it’ Charlie winked back.

Your Father’s POV

The same evening, your father arrived home from work to you pulling out of the driveway and a stack of garbage bags being piled up in front of the front door of the house.

‘What the…’ he growled just as your stepmother brought out the final bag.

‘Spring clean’ she said somewhat satisfied, causing him to huff.

‘Where is Y/N going?’ your father asked as he was just about to take off his shoes.

‘To Marina’s house. Movie night I think’ your stepmother said before asking your father to put the trash into the bins before taking off his shoes.

‘Sure’ he responded just as she disappeared back inside to finish off cooking and, as your father took out the trash as requested, one of the large thin plastic bags got caught on the tyre of the bicycle besides the house.

It tore almost immediately and half of its contents scattered over the wet grass.

‘For fuck sake’ your father shouted to himself as he pulled open the bin and discarded of the half full bag and the two other bags he was carrying before collecting the contents from the floor.

‘Fantastic’ he growled again with anger as he realised that it was the bag containing the bathroom contents which had spilled and, amongst old tooth brushes and a sticky tube of toothpaste, he found something unusual. A digital pregnancy test which clearly read ‘POSITIVE’.

His breath caught in his throat as he picked it up, looking at it is somewhat stunned and surprised.

Was this really happening, he wondered?

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15 @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r @tellingyouastory @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @littlewhiterose @ttzamara @ttzamara @cilleveryone

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby @thenattitude

#Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine

106 notes · View notes

penny-nichols · 2 years

Text

Turnabout Wedding Belles chapter 2

Part 1 Phoenix and one of Penny's bridesmaids blocked the studio entrance. No one could get in or out. Eventually the police arrived, and with them, a familiar face.

"Ema!" Maya shouted, as soon as she saw her. "You came!"

"Yeah, had to leave Prosecutor Sahdmahdi on his own for a while, but I wouldn't miss your wedding for the world!"

"Who's the guy on the baby leash?" Sure enough, Ema was holding a leash attached to a shark backpack attached to a man.

"Oh, that? That's Daryan."

"He's your… plus one?"

"HARDLY." Ema looked almost offended. "The precinct is running low on detectives. He murdered a guy but before that he WAS a detective so we brought him back. For the record, I'd've preferred the fake Fulbright."

"Rude." Daryan said.

"Shut up, Daryan! At least Fakebright was fun to be around, you're just being angsty."

"But if you're here, what's he doing here?" Maya asked.

"Oh, I'm forensics, he's just a detective. Besides, SOMEONE needs to watch him."

"So you're babysitting?"

"I am half a year younger-" Daryan seethed. Ema bonked him with a snackoo.

"Anyway, lead us to the crime scene." Ema motioned for Maya to lead the way. They passed Penny, who was huddled next to Cody and Will, crying.

Finally, they made it to studio one. "I don't see a body," Daryan pointed out.

"It's, uh, in the cake," Maya explained. Ema spit out her snackoo.

"I'm sorry, It's what?!"

"In the cake! We were cutting the cake and accidentally cut its finger off, that's how we figured out there was a body."

"And you don't know who it is?"

"We only saw the finger."

Ema sighed and began removing chunks of cake from the body.

"So," Daryan asked, "why are there three cakes here anyway?"

"Oh, one of them's fake. Only a slice of it is real."

"...Why do you have TWO cakes then? And why a fake cake?"

"My Nini's a master prop maker," Maya explained. "She wanted a cake that looked perfect… for a perfect wedding, she said. So, obviously, she made a fake cake with a cuttable slice that looked nice, then we got two real cakes to actually feed people. As for why there are two… I invited a lot of people. Nini's more of an introvert but I make up for that."

"We have a body!" Ema announced, brushing a few crumbs of cake off the face of the victim. “Maya, can you identify her?” “She looks familiar,” Maya admitted, “although I don’t know her. She looks like a Hollywood type; maybe Penny knows.” Ema nodded. “Daryan, anything else you want to examine here right now, or should we go talk to the bride.” “I… thought this was the bride.” “They’re lesbians, dipshit.”

“Wh- I knew that! I just thought there were different terms for different… sides of the wedding”

Ema rolled her eyes. “Ok, keep believing that. Just let me know what to examine.”

Daryan took a look at the body. It was a woman in her late 40s to early 50s, with blonde hair in a karen-esque bob. She wore a velvet cheetah-print dress with a low neckline, and had long, sharp, red nails (with one finger on her right hand cut off). Her throat was slit, and an expression of terror was frozen on her face and covered in cake. “Well…” he finally said, after examining the body, “there’s a knife right there. Can you fingerprint it and spray it with luminol?”

"Our fingerprints are on there,"Maya said quickly. "That's the knife we used to cut the cake."

Ema sprayed the knife with luminol first. She nodded and whispered something to Daryan, then began to fingerprint the handle. "Seeing as you've both been involved in crimes, your fingerprints are already in the database."

"Oh, so THEY'RE criminals and they get to go free but I get stuck on the baby leash."

"Shut UP Daryan. They aren't CRIMINALS, they WERE suspects."

"Well sor-ry," Daryan whined. "It's not like I know every criminal."

"You were in prison with them, what, you weren't SOCIAL?"

"I put away like a quarter of those guys! You think I'm going to talk with people who hate me?"

"You're talking with me right now." She examined the prints she had taken. "Yup, just yours and Penny's," she said to Maya.

"No leads there, I guess."

"I want to talk with the other bride now. You said her name was Penny," Daryan prompted.

"Yes, Penny Fey," Maya replied. She couldn't help but smile when she said the name, even with the murder.

"Aww, she's taking your name?" Ema squealed.

Maya nodded. "Fey clan stays winning."

"I want to talk with her." Daryan insisted. "You said she might know the victim."

"Maybe."

Daryan followed Ema and Maya back to the main gate. Penny was still crying uncontrollably when the party came to talk with her. Cody and Will scooched away from Penny to give her some space. Gently, Maya placed a hand on her shoulder. "Nini," Maya cooed. "It's gonna be ok. Ema's gonna find the culprit."

Penny sniffled. "But- but Rita's dead!" she bawled.

"Yeah, well, Rita was a bitch!" Cody snapped.

"Cody-!"

Daryan raised his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, did you say… Rita?"

"Rita 'The Cheetah' Wylde. She is- was our newest producer." Penny was still not making eye contact.

"I… see."

"And she was a bitch," Cody added.

"Cody, you really shouldn't say that…" Penny trailed off.

"Really, they'll think you're a suspect." Powers added.

"She's not around to hear it," Cody insisted.

"Besides, I don't think you're our suspect, kid," Daryan scoffed. "Not with her sitting right there."

"Excuse me?!" Will asked. "Why would Penny-"

"-you're CRAZY if you think she did it," Cody shouted.

"Alright. Penny, I want you to look at me." Penny and him locked eyes for a moment, then she looked to the side. Daryan sighed in annoyance. "How did you know the victim was Rita Wylde?" he asked.

"I saw her finger."

"You're claiming to recognize her fingerprints on sight?"

"Not her prints. Her nails." Penny shuddered. "Always wearing those big, false, red ones. Every time she got mad, I always thought she'd scratch me."

"Still, a positive ID based off of a fingernail is mighty suspicious. Almost like you knew who the victim was before finding the body."

"Hey, you're the detective," Maya said. "I think you should do some detecting instead of badgering my fiancee. She was with me all morning."

"About that, Maya, why did you assume that she died this morning? Are you, perhaps, an accomplice? Your prints were on the knife as well."

Ema tugged on the baby leash. "Don't bring Maya into this," she growled.

"Aww, you think she's innocent because you're fwiends?" he said, getting sickeningly high-pitched. "Well guess what, Klavier learned the hard way that friends can murder, too, he sure as hell won't go easy on her because she's your friend."

"You're causing a scene at my friend's wedding!"

"There was a murder! Is that enough of a goddamn scene for you?!"

"Can we all just… calm down?" Maya asked.

"I'll be arresting you both." Daryan responded. Maya sighed and put her hands in front of her. It was a familiar motion by now.

"No!" Penny shrieked. "I- you can't arrest her! I did it, I killed Rita! Arrest me!"

"Penny?!" Maya yelped.

"A confession that easily? Wow." Daryan let out a long, low whistle. "Unfortunately, it can't have been just you. If Maya's your alibi, then she must be your accomplice."

Ema bit her lip. "Look, Daryan, something doesn't seem right…"

"She confessed, Ema! Now arrest them or let me arrest them."

"... Fine," she sighed. "Maya, Penny, I'm sorry."

"Nick'll figure it out," Maya replied as Ema closed the cuffs around her wrists.

Penny was absolutely panicking. Her breaths were short and gasping. Her fingernails dug into her skin. Gently, Ema pried her hands away from her face. "Sorry," she muttered, as the cold metal met Penny's flesh.

Tears stung Penny's eyes as she walked down the aisle, not to her ridiculous music choice, but to frantic whispers. She kept looking back at Maya, who tried to keep a smile on her face, just to cheer Penny up.

Phoenix was aghast when he saw the brides. "Maya, don't tell me…" he mumbled.

"Sorry, Nick, it was inevitable I'd be suspected. Can you defend us?"

"Us?"

"They think Penny's the killer, I'm just an accomplice. To be fair, she did confess."

The lawyer nodded. "I doubt either of you did it. See you at the detention center?"

Maya nodded and got into the police car after Penny. They sat in the back, and Penny rested her head on her fiancee's shoulder. Maya smiled sadly. Penny couldn't have done it; she knew that much, and that was enough.

#will powers #cody hackins #maya fey #ema skye #daryan crescend #Penny nichols #Feychols #maya x penny #turnabout wedding belles

5 notes · View notes

internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

Stiff Peaks and Soggy Bottoms

mood board by: @knightfall05x (wuv you)

summary: You, Tim, and Kon try to bake. It ends well.

A/n: Thanks to @littleredwing89 and @multifandomgirl-us for proof reading. I was watching Kitchen Nightmares while writing this. I am surprised how fluffy this came out. You can blame my need for more poly and this piece by @symeona. I have not shut up about this piece 50 years later (Hi Sym *waves*-Fish). I forgot to mention that reader is more or less gender neutral or I attempted.

warnings: Terrible cooking

masterlist

Kon yawns, scratching at his broad chest and running his hand through his tangle of curly black hair. He blinks one eye open successfully to the dim light flooding into the end of the hall likely coming in from the living room. The lights dance, glowing softly with faded color against the dark glossy wood of the floor.

Kon’s first sleep-addled thought is, Oh, Aliens. Ok, cool.

It takes his brain a full minute to realize how much that doesn’t make sense. The apartment is dead silent, lacking the telltale whirring most spaceships give off when they’re hovering, the sounds of nervous fingers tapping against a stack of papers echoing in the mostly empty space. Kon strained his ears trying to focus on the other sounds flitting in the room. He can hear the steady calming beat of your heart come off rhythm, jumping a fraction of a beat faster. It wasn’t fast enough to say you were in danger. It was just fast enough to tell that you were extremely engaged in whatever was occupying your attention. Kon thinks it over. The last time he checked looking over papers- lab reports, especially- was the bane of your existence. He listens again. This time making out the voices coming from the TV. Kon wasn’t awake enough to understand what they were saying.

5:47 AM

Kon groans trying his hardest not to laugh while he stares at his phone. You are an actual psychopath. Who wakes up at 5 AM? Villains that’s who. Did you even sleep? Why do you and Tim hate sleep so much?

Stepping into the living room as quietly as he can, he finds you huddled against the right side of the couch far away from the TV, your thick wool comforter draped over your head and shoulders making a fluffy tent. Strands of your messy bed head sticking out and swaying as you rock on your heels. Your stack of papers long since abandoned on the arm rest beside you. Kon can’t help but smile at how adorable you looked, still sleep rumpled and red-nosed from the cold.

Eyes glued to the TV, you pull up your knees to your chest revealing your fuzzy Red Robin socks. Kon frowns then makes a mental note to get you some Superboy socks later. You curl deeper into your comforter, easing and pressing into the armrest. All of your apprehension fading and relaxing as the rest of the world melted away. Kon smiles devilishly at your inattention. He tiptoes towards you which was entirely unnecessary because it didn’t matter that Kon was about as stealthy as a disco ball not when all of your attention was directed at the TV.

Kon launches himself at you too quickly for you to even react or comment or throw a pillow at him. You shriek as he lands on you, his muscular body squishing you into the couch. You wince hoping the neighbors didn’t hear. You’re not too worried about Tim waking up considering how tired he was.

“Morning, gorgeous.” Kon greets, winking and wrapping his arms around your waist. The audacity. You groan attempting to glare at him. He simply gives you a dopey smile. You have to blow out a raspberry to keep yourself from smiling back. You strain your lips into a flatline. The crow’s feet at the corners of your eyes betray you though. The corner of Kon’s mouth twitches, those big baby blues shining even in the dim light. He knows he’s won you over.

You’re too petty and sleep-deprived to give in. You roll your eyes at him, lips still wobbling and tingling from the effort of maintaining your unimpressed frown. Still, without resistance, you shift the comforter and refold yourself to accommodate his intrusive form. Large arms wrap around your waist tighter as he lays his head in your stomach. How he finds this position comfortable for his neck is beyond you but you do appreciate the warmth. Kon’s smile widens as he looks up at you. It looks positively smug. Your nose scrunches up bracing for whatever Kon is about to say.

“Aw, baaabe, it looks good on you~” You look down at the oversized Superboy hoodie you’re wearing which was two times bigger than it needed to be as was standard of your hoodies. You mutter a curse. Kon had been pestering you to wear it. It’s not that you didn’t want to. It’s just that you had a soft spot for the Impulse hoodie Bart got you a few years ago which meant it was your got-to-hoodie despite the fact that it was fraying. It was in the wash so you decided to give this one a try and honestly, it is really fucking comfy and more importantly warm. You huff at him, feeling your cheeks color. You glare at him, his dopey smile still plastered on his face. You make the executive decision to ignore him.

This decision does not last long.

About two minutes into your silent treatment, Kon whines and pouts weaponizing those baby blues. “Aw come on, gorgeous, you can’t stay mad at me forever.” He nuzzles into your stomach tickling your drawing a smile out of you. He grins at you and finally, you let yourself smile back fully. “Asshole.” You grumble. He knows you can’t resist him when he’s being cute and calling you ‘gorgeous’. That is just plain cheating. Still, you relent. You wrap your arms loosely around his shoulders, running your hand gently through his dark hair allowing your fingers to tangle in his curls. The arms around you tighten a little pulling you closer to him.

Kon doesn’t need a reminder of how absolutely adorable you are but it is very much appreciated. Kon loves looking at you as the soft glowing colors flash across your face highlighting your features and softening them. In the dim light of the room and under the blankets, you press closer to him all the sharp edges of Gotham's alleys stripped away leaving you sleepy-eyed and very huggable. Between you and Tim, you were the one people pointed to when they thought Gothamite but that was the fun of it. He and Tim, they were the only ones who got to see this softer you. The you that you let get enraptured by hobbies and dumb little things. Kon held you close, relishing your presence. This was the version of you they got to keep for themselves and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

-------

Tim shifts feeling either side of him vacant. Tim rolls over, arms searching for either you or Kon as his mind catches up. The warm sunlight brushes over his skin as he rolls over once again, stirring him from his sleep. Tim blinks, eyes adjusting to the morning light.

9: 10 AM

He groans, shifting up and burying his head under the pillows hoping to once again fall asleep.

“Oh no no no no!”

“Shush! Don’t jinx it!”

Tim’s eye cracks open. He lifts his head a bit tilting it to find the bedroom door open, your voices filtering in like dust in a sunbeam, pleasant but ultimately not helpful.

“I can’t jinx a pre-recorded show, genius!”

Tim sighs. Sleep was, inevitably, lost at this point. Tim debates on whether to keep himself under the covers and finally be able to hog the thick blankets. Or he could, possibly, investigate the commotion happening in your shared living room and risk freezing. Sadly, he chose the latter.

Blearily, Tim searches the room for a shirt only to find one of Kon’s discarded on the floor. Well, it’s not the first time he’s borrowed one of Kon’s shirts.

Tim wasn’t surprised to find you out of bed. After all, the idea of sitting still ate you alive. You were always, always the happiest when you were in motion when your hands were working to make something like some part of you was constantly vying for the chance to be something instead of just being. Tim completely understood the feeling.

Kon had once accused you of being a workaholic when in truth at the moment you had been avoiding work by doing one of your side projects. He had also accused both of you of being sleep allergic which is probably true but at least, Tim’s drink (read: poison) of choice was tea and not a cocktail of monster energy drinks and misery.

It was odd to find Kon out of bed though. Kon could laze around in bed for days if you let him, so his being up was worth investigating if only to make sure the apartment didn’t burn down.

“Look what you did!”

“It’s prerecorded, jackass!”

“You cursed him and gave him a soggy bottom”

Tim can tell just how long you’ve been glued to the T.V. based on the way your vowels slant to mimic that of the hosts. Tim’s slightly chapped lips curl as he shakes his head at the way you and Kon cock your heads towards the T.V., attention completely captured by what seems to be a cooking show. You held your breaths, waiting for the judge to say something. Kon shifts up, leaning his head against your shoulder. Your limbs were tangled loosely against each other. It was a rare, lazy sort of affection that never failed to make Tim smile.

“Ok, no. That’s just mean.” You huff into Kon’s hair, looking absolutely petulant and cute. Tim works to stop an ‘aaaaawww’ rising from the back of his throat lest you throw a pillow at his head.

“Babe, it’s Paul Hollywood. What were you expecting?”

“Human decency. She worked hard on that.” You whine, genuinely looking upset.

Seeing, your reaction Kon relents burrowing himself closer to you for comfort. “True.”

Tim turned his attention to the T.V.. What he found made his brow shoot up.

“Great British Bake Off?” Tim asks, sliding into your left side and placing his head on your shoulder. There is a reason you guys bought an L-shaped couch. Said reason was named Conner Kent who liked laying on top of people. Those people being either of you. Tim snuggles into your side, earning him a kiss on his nose. His nose scrunches feeling itchy. He lets out a small sneeze into the back of his hand. You blanch at him while Kon snorts, throwing him a box of tissues from the coffee table.

“Mornin’, Space Case.” You mumble giving him another kiss, this time on the corner of his lip. Tim blushes, his face brighter than the sunlight outside your window. Tim is, sadly, incurably adorable.

Kon smiles at both of you smugly for what neither of you has any clue. Not until you see what Tim is wearing and not until Tim sees what you’re wearing. You groan and Tim blows out a breath through his nose while Kon presses his positively glowing smile into your hoodie. He’s not going to shut up about this anytime soon or ever.

“Do you two even know anything about baking?” Tim asks, crossing his arms over his chest and smoothly changing the subject.

You and Kon share a look.

“Nope”

“Yes”

“Microwaves and watching this show doesn’t count.”

“Ooook, fine. I don’t. Buuuuuut considering none of us can-”

“I can cook.” Tim defends, clipped. You roll your eyes dramatically. Kon smirks, also doubtful. You flicker your eyes to Kon to meet his and with the brief contact, you know you’re on the same page.

“Microwaves don’t count, Tim.” Kon shoots back, pulling himself off you so he can show Tim the full extent of his Cheshire smile. You can see Tim drawing his hackles up, so both of you, being the little shits you are, continue to goad him.

“You can cook in theory,” You drawl, letting the challenge embed itself into the syllables. Tim cuts you a look. You simply look at him innocently. Tim knows that you’re baiting him. He definitely knows this and yet…

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. We’ll even make something from the show!”

“Even chocolate eclairs?” Kon says a little too eagerly. You were just gonna say meringues but chocolate eclairs sound fantastic.

Tim throws up his arms and exasperates. “Sure! Why not?”

You and Kon share a dopey smile, smug and preening as you look at him. Tim groans, placing his head in his hands. He knew this would happen. He knew. You and Kon high five and make a little “yeah!” noise in celebration.

This will not end well.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You twitch your lips staring down at Tim’s phone, deleting and retyping the message for the third time. You weren’t sure how to explain this without having Jason falling to the floor laughing. Your eyes stung from the smoke so you decided to just send him your third try.

Tim: Hey Jason, theoretically, say your oven caught on fire like via laser beam or something, do you just pour water on it?

You wait a few minutes, watching the three dots indicating he was typing only for him to stop typing without replying. You make a small noise, which was thankfully lost to the bickering behind you when Jason’s phone number flashed on the screen. You’re always nervous about talking to Tim’s family. Tim had once assured you that you were overthinking it but still. To be fair, it was easier than dealing with Kon’s. Actually, no. No, it wasn’t. Both were intimidating but in very different ways. You do have to say that Jason, scary as he was, was easier to approach than say Bruce.

“Baby bird,” Jason says, the edge of a wheeze gripping his throat. Clearly, having just recovered from laughing his guts out. He breathes, hand slamming against what you suspect was either a kitchen countertop or a workbench or both knowing Jason. “Ok, ok, I’m good-” He clears his throat. “Kay, tell me what happened.”

You flick your eyes toward the fire and your boys who were more or less still bickering, their voices tangling with the crackling of the flames. You’re mildly surprised that neither of them is on fire but you’re not holding your breath. They’ll probably be somehow combust in the next five minutes. You love them but they’re disasters.

“We were trying to bake- shut up-” Jason does not snort any quieter. “And well, Tim thought-”

“It was Kon’s idea!”

“You let me!” Kon defends sounding utterly betrayed.

You groan and Jason snickers. “What do we do?”

“Have you tried apologizing to it?”

“Jason, I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Now, apologize.” You sigh exasperatedly. Waynes are assholes.

Tim raises a brow at you and you give him a shrug not really knowing what to tell him. “Apparently, we need to apologize to the oven.” You deadpan, immediately regretting even relaying it. How have you never decked Jason? It wasn’t fear. After all, you’ve decked Batman. Ok, in your defense lack thereof, that one was by accident or moreover reflexive.

“Hey Kon”

“Both of you have to apologize too!”

“First of all, I was in the bathroom getting towels when you two chucklefucks decided to use laser vision to preheat the oven.”

You hear Jason fall out of his chair. Distantly, you hear someone calling Jason an idiot but you weren’t too familiar with the voice. You instantly thank yourself for not turning on the camera considering what state you three were in. Kon was covered in chocolate, your hair-as well as your poor phone- was caked in batter, and Tim? Tim was covered in everything but mostly flour which keeps making his nose twitch like a rabbit. Though, you wouldn’t be surprised if Kon’s already taken a few pictures. You yourself have taken a few.

“Ok but seriously what do we do?”

You hear some rustling and a chair squeaking back into place.

“No…”

“First off, did you close the oven?” Your eyes flicker to them. Placing Tim’s phone between your shoulder and ear, you mime the advice. Tim frowns skeptical but Kon kicks the oven closed anyway.

“Ok, it’s closed now. Should we put water in it?”

“NO. Have you never put out a kitchen fire before? How do you three eat?”

“We live in the middle of downtown, what do you think?”

Jason sighs disbelieving and finally sounding appropriately exasperated. You could see him running his hand over his face. “Who let you three live together?” This made your lips twitch up. “I dunno. Kon and I just started mooching on Tim and then suddenly we each got a key to the apartment.” It was an oversimplification of events but there was a fire and you had to get at least one joke in.

“Do your neighbors have- Wait, don’t you have a Kryptonian clone with freeze breath?”

You blink and slap your palm against your forehead. The other two seemed to get what you had just remembered and act appropriately with Tim looking defeated and Kon finding the situation hilarious.

“Thanks, Jay.” You mutter wanting the Earth to swallow you whole. Esme, your chubby rat, squeaked nuzzling against you as she wormed her way out of your hoodie. She may or may not have been the primary reason for the size of your hoodies. She smiles at the phone, wide-eyed and happy as if she could see Jason. You hear a soft laugh coming from Jason’s end.

“Is that Esme?” Your brow ticks up not quite sure how to answer. “Uh yeah.” You answer dumbly, giving Esme little scritches that she leaned into happily making all her little happy noises.

“Give her a cuddle for me.” You give Esme a kiss on her nose and she snuggles in reciprocation. Kon pouts face still full of chocolate, “Where’s mine?”

“You’ll get one once our apartment isn’t about to burn down.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fresh out of the shower, you plop down next to Tim letting your wet hair flop onto his face and his fuzzy Wonder Girl sweatshirt. Tim huffs at you taking another bite out of the hot fresh-ly ordered stuffed crust pizza. The cheese was still gooey and molten. It made your stomach rumble like nobody’s business. You whine childishly trying to get Tim to hand you one. He looks at you, mouthful of pizza, and grabs one only to hand it to Kon. You gasp at him. You stretch your legs over their laps in protest only to retract them immediately after Kon pokes at your feet a couple of times tickling you.

You hide behind Tim, glaring at Kon and sticking your tongue out. Tim, the traitor, moves out of the way letting Kon’s long arms capture you. You shriek almost sounding like Esme as he pulls you in sitting you in his lap. You sigh in defeat as Kon places his chin on your head. You don’t even want to see the triumphant smirks on both their faces.

You grab a slice and through the mouthful of cheese and grease, you murmur “We really need to learn how to cook.” Tim hums in agreement, leaning against Kon, aka the cuddliest heater in the world. You lean back into Kon as another signature bake is brought up to the judges. You all watch with bated breaths as you wait for the results.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You marvel at the fresh ingredients laid before you and the posh man standing in your kitchen rolling up his sleeves.

“Hey, Duckie, are we in trouble?” Kon whispers from behind you. He’s got your back, he said.

“Kind of?” Tim bleats, his voice a little high.

You snort raising an eyebrow at him hiding your smile behind your hand. “Timmy, what does kind of mean?”

“I can hear you.” Alfred deadpans. You and Kon stiffen. You’re pretty sure even Tim straightens up, probably out of habit.

“Do any of you know how to cook?” Alfred asks in the primmest sounding accent you’ve ever heard.

“Nope, we live downtown for a reason.” You snark reflexively. Tim glares at you and hisses silently. You shrink and mutter an apology which Alfred takes graciously.

“I am assuming you don’t then. Well, it’s lucky that I have a free afternoon.”

Tim eyes him suspiciously. “What happened to B?”

“Your father can take care of himself.”

“You sure?”

You think you see Alfred smile at that.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading!

tag list: @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell

#timkon #tim drake imagines #Tim Drake #tim drake x reader #conner kent x reader #conner kent imagine #conner kent #tim drake x reader x conner kent #timkon x reader #polyamourus pride #my writing #dc reader insert

289 notes · View notes

dramioneasks · 4 years

Text

HP FESTS: Dramione RomCom Fest (Part 1)

Dramione RomCom Fest 2020:

12 Years and 3 Months by pixiedustandbluebutterflies - T, one-shot - As news of their engagement takes Wizarding England by storm, elusive power couple Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are finally sharing their love story in this Witch Weekly interview!

50 (First) Dates with Hermione Granger by HufflepuffMommy - G, WIP - Draco Malfoy sets his heart on romancing Hermione Granger, but she has short-term memory loss; she can't remember anything that happened the day before. So every morning, Draco has to woo her again. Her friends are very protective, and Draco must convince them that he's in it for love. Plot (andsummary) taken from the movie "50 First Dates" for the Dramione RomCom fest!

About Time by WordsmithMusings - E, WIP - When Draco's Father reveals to him that the men in their family have the ability to travel back in time, he uses his newfound gift to do many things - save a life, be a better friend, reconnect with a witch, and fall in love.

All's well that ends well (to end up with you) by weestarmeggie - M, one-shot - Hermione Granger is all set to be the maid of honor at her best friends wedding. She is taken back when she finds out that the best man is none other than her ex-fiance.

Away by In_Dreams - E, WIP - Desperate for a change of pace, Hermione unknowingly commits to a home exchange with Pansy Parkinson and finds herself swept up in the chaos of New York City and into the arms of Draco Malfoy. Dramione/Hansy. Loosely inspired by The Holiday.

Bells on a Hill by HeyJude19 - T, WIP - Left by his fiancée a month before the ceremony, Draco never got his dream wedding, so agreeing to assist Granger with her own wedding planning to distract himself from his broken engagement seems like a great idea—though Draco probably shouldn't fall in love with the bride-to-be. Based very (very) loosely on The Wedding Singer.

Chasing the Future by Rdlentz8 - T, WIP - An unusual and anonymous Patronus finds a frustrated Hermione alone in the library and talks to her about being lonely. Could this be the push she's needed to change her fate? Inspired by A Cinderella Story. There are direct quotes from A Cinderella Story.

Domino Effect by KoraKwidditch - M, WIP - Resolved to live her life in Muggle London, Hermione Granger finally felt free. Free from the Ministry, free from her celebrity status and everything that entailed. But who knew that one cataclysmal incident would lead her straight into the Malfoy's den and down a series of unfortunate events? At least they think she's a Muggle.**A Dramione retelling of While You Were Sleeping**

Fairytales and Wishes by Charlie9646 - T, one-shot - All Scorpius wants is for Hermione to be a nice step mother, but somehow that sort of gets lost in translation with his accidental magic.

Flipping Through the Pages by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns - T, WIP - Draco Malfoy had a fascination with a popular book series and its writer. His life changes when he meets her.

The Hate List by bethelson - T, WIP - While chaperoning the post graduation trip, Hermione and Draco find themselves wandering the streets of Paris in the middle of the night, fruitlessly searching for the seventh years they were supposed to be in charge of. What Hermione doesn’t know, is that those seventh years struck a bargain with Draco to keep her occupied so they could sneak out for a last hurrah before they all head back to London. So in his efforts to derail her search, he convinces her to join him in their own night of frivolity. As they paint the city red, they slowly learn to let their guards down, and find that putting the past behind them allows them to finally focus on the present. ___ My contribution to the Dramione RomCom Fest!

Hollywood & Vine by dreamsofdramione (Bugggghead), msmerlin - M, WIP - As the manager of an occult bookstore currently renting a room from an old friend and living paycheck to paycheck, Hermione wasn’t exactly living the Hollywood dream. But her life is turned upside down when a chance encounter with Tinseltown’s current heartthrob, Draco Malfoy, leaves her questioning everything she thought she knew about life and love. or the one in which Hermione unintentionally falls in love with a movie star.

Home is Where the Heart Is by lrs002 - T, one-shot - A rewrite and Draco/Hermione look at basically the last scenes of the movie Sweet Home AlabamaOr in the other words: The Wedding and the Kiss

How to Lose a Wizard in 10 Days by GracefulLioness - E, WIP - Hermione will do anything to prove to her boss at Witch Weekly that she's ready to take on more serious topics, including dating a man just to drive him away for the sake of her next column, How to Lose a Wizard in 10 Days. But pushing Draco Malfoy away proves to be a challenging task, perhaps because he's got ten days to make her fall in love with him. Inspired by How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.

It Happened One Knight by Klawdee - T, WIP - “A spoiled heir running away from his family is helped by an old classmate, who is actually a journalist in need of a story.” Based off of the 1934 film, It Happened One Night

It's All In The Malfoy Family by TwilightToMidnight - M, one-shot - Over a decade of longing and desire comes to fruition one night. Not quite the way Hermione expected but definitely with a bang. Everyone and their dog seem to be working against her. For the 2020 Dramione RomCom Fest. Loosely based off Sabrina (1954 - with Audrey Hepburn).

Love, Actually in Dramione by Blessedindeed - G, one-shot - I absolutely love the movie "Love, Actually" and was so excited to make some art pieces from a few of the more memorable scenes! Many thanks and kudos to QuinTalon & NuclearNik for hosting and being such amazing encouragers to everyone! I cannot wait to dive into all these fun pieces!!

Love, Hermione by pandora_rose_xo - G, WIP - When Hermione leaves some personal letters lying around in a sleepy haze, Dobby comes across them, and trying to be helpful delivers them to their recipients. Who were never supposed to see them.

Metamorphosis by persephone_stone - T, WIP - Draco Malfoy is king of Hogwarts High—student body president, captain of both the water polo and basketball teams, and boyfriend of Astoria Greengrass, the hottest girl in school. That is, until said girlfriend returns from Spring Break with some unexpected news: she’s dumping him for a college boy. Now, Draco is on a mission to win her back. And who better to help him turn into a more intellectual, cultured version of himself than Hermione Granger, the smartest girl in school? As he and Hermione spend time together, will Draco learn how to be the right type of boyfriend for Astoria? Or will he instead learn that maybe Astoria is not the right type of girl for him? Written for the Dramione RomCom Fest, based on the 90’s teen romcom She’s All That.

Midnight in Paris by Aneiria - E, one-shot - ‘Granger,’ Draco replied, casting a quick wandless charm to clean his own clothes. ‘Want to watch the magic you’re casting next time? Whatever spell that was, it nearly took both of us out.’ Hermione’s face settled into a frown of confusion. ‘I thought that was you,’ she said, hesitantly. ‘I wasn’t using magic.’ They both looked away at the same time, taking in their surroundings. ‘Where are we?’ Hermione wondered out loud, as she spun on the spot and took in the sights. It was the wrong question, really.

My Big Fat Muggle Wedding by BiscuitsForPotter - G, one-shot - Draco's gotten more used to having Muggles as future-in-laws, but what about his parents?

No More Waiting by anchoredto717 - T, one-shot - The end of Hogwarts, an impending Mastery, and confirmation that Hermione is well and truly over Ronald Weasley: three factors that push Draco into a place he never imagined. Is he really going to Harry Potter’s house party? A one shot heavily inspired by the 90s teen classic, Can’t Hardly Wait.

Off the Rails by RoseHarperMaxwell - E, WIP - For the Dramione RomCom Fest 💚 My adaptation of the movie Trainwreck (Amy Schumer/Bill Hader), featuring Draco in Amy's role. “Pans.” Draco’s head falls back petulantly. “I can't interview Granger, especially not about how she's healing Potter. Neither of them are going to want to talk to me. Make Creevey do it.” “No, you'll do it. And don't sulk at me, Draco.” Pansy shuts him down immediately, not that he expected to talk her out of it. She gives assignments, not suggestions. “Old Quidditch rivalries. Gryffindor Princess confiding in the Prince of Slytherin, with a side of The Boy Who Lived. You’re the only one for it.” She drops her pen on her notepad with finality. “She’s also fit as hell now. I’d even fuck her, so our readers will be drooling over her. This is easy, Draco. Don’t fuck it up.”

One Thing We've Got by IrisCalasse - M, WIP - Over a decade after the Second Wizarding War, Draco Malfoy is a broke socialite straddling the Muggle and magical worlds. One day a new neighbour moves in his residential complex. What has happened to Hermione Granger to make her hide from Ronald Weasley? If Cormac McLaggen is gay, why is he hanging around Granger so much? And why does her cat seem to know way too much about everything? Based on the plot of Breakfast at Tiffany's, but set in 2012 London with a magical twist. Updates every 16th of the month.

Pin down your heart by hiyas - G, one-shot - Hermione Granger contemplates a door when Destiny comes knocking.

Playing Cupid by tygermine - T, one-shot - Set It Up AU.

Pretty Witch by TakingFlight48 - E, WIP - When confronted with the opportunity to take on an alter ego - Hermione Granger, Potion's Mistress and the Wizarding World's Golden Girl became Vivian Roberts - London's weekend escort. For three years she lived in this duality until Draco Malfoy, lost in Soho and driving a precious DB6, wound up uncovering her secret. This is the tale of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy finding a balance between work and love through the guise of fake dating, unacknowledged feelings, and Hermione not wanting to let go of a part of herself that is no longer serving her.

Promises, Promises by Musyc - T, one-shot - Lawyer and social work advocate Hermione Granger is one signature away from fulfilling her dream to have a house-elf education program. All she needs is to seal the deal, and Draco Malfoy has promised the full support of Malfoy and Son Developments. But the owner of the property is balking, there's a new buyer in the mix, and a promise isn't a contract.

The Proposal by FaeOrabel - M, WIP - When Head of Creatures Division of the DMLE, Hermione Granger, is pushed into a corner regarding a new marriage law she doesn't want to comply with, she gets the brilliant idea to stage an engagement with her long time, loyal assistant, Draco Malfoy. Draco goes along with the charade on the condition she gets him promoted to a new position. A deal set, they prepare to fool not only the Minister of Magic, but Hermione's best friend, and Draco's entire family. What could go wrong? Just the threat of Azkaban should they fail.

PS I love you by emotionalsupporthufflepuff - M, WIP - After a tragic accident, Hermione must reintroduce Draco to a life they've built far away from home. She recieves unexpected help in a series of letter written by Draco himself before the accident...

Regrets Only by nztina - T, WIP - Draco and Hermione are the best of friends - until Hermione goes off to teach at Hogwarts and Draco realises that he doesn’t just miss her. Upon her return to London, he intends to reveal his feelings, but she has a surprise of her own, one that will definitely put a damper on Draco’s plans. Draco. Hermione. And...Hermione’s fiancé?

Restless in Ripon by QuinTalon - T, WIP - Scorpius Malfoy wants his father to be happy again and as his grandfather often told him, a Malfoy always gets what he wants. A nosy radio host, well-meaning friends, and fate will help bring two lonely souls together. Well, that and one tenacious eight-year-old.

Rushing Back by floorcoaster - M, WIP - Draco Malfoy is thirty, surviving, and very much not thriving. He's near the utter end of himself when he experiences the worst of all possible bad days--a double betrayal that rocks him to his core. Unmoored, untethered, he winds up in a strange place, where he begins an adventure through time that will change the course of his life. A time travel fic with a twist on the movie "13 Going on 30."

Say Anything by MidnightValkyrie - G, 9 Chapters - To know Draco Malfoy is to love him. Hermione Granger is about to know Draco Malfoy. Written and created for the Dramione RomCom Fest, based on Say Anything.

She's the Snake by monsterleadmehome - E, WIP - In a universe where Voldemort never came back, Harry lives with Sirius, and Dumbledore isn't dying, the worst thing the Golden Trio has to contend with is their grades and Quidditch matches... oh, and the recent magical attacks on Muggles and Muggle-borns. Harry is sure Malfoy had something to do with it, and though Hermione doesn't agree, her sarcastic offer somehow turns into her latest nightmare: to go undercover as a boy in the Slytherin dorms and find out what's really going on. And maybe throw a Quidditch game or two. But there's one thing she hasn't prepared for: falling in love with the boy she's supposed to be spying on.

Signed and Sealed by niffizzle - M, WIP - She owns a children's bookstore. He runs a corporation buying significant shares of small businesses. Never in their lives have Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy gotten along — or so they think.

Timing is Everything by anne_ammons - M, 7 Chapters - Draco Malfoy is your average bachelor living an average bachelor's life, until he crosses paths with his former classmate, Hermione Granger. Strike that - when has Draco Malfoy ever been average? A retelling of the 1994 movie, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Dramione-style.

A Trip to Kouloura Beach by rennaissance_woman - one-shot - A day at the beach, what could happen?

The Truth About Kneazles and Crups by samkablam7 - T, WIP - When Draco Malfoy started hosting his wizarding radio show The Truth About Kneazles and Crups, he had no idea that it would bring Hermione Granger back into his life. He also didn't know that they would both be interested in each other. The only problem? She thinks that the radio host she's interested in is his best friend and Pro-Quidditch-player-wannabe, Blaise Zabini.

Untitled Marital Crisis Comedy by Darlingheart - G, one-shot - Draco is rich, handsome, and most importantly, excellent with the ladies. Harry Potter is not. Which is where Draco comes in. With Draco’s help Harry will learn there’s more to life than being a one-woman man. But what happens when Draco meets someone who changes his mind? And what does Hermione Granger have to do with it...

A Woman of Some Dignity by mcal - G, one-shot - That seemed to get his attention. “What are you—of course I respect you, you daft witch!”

“Your actions today show the opposite!” I answered. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m a woman of some dignity and I’d like to shower in peace. You’ll kindly wait half an hour before Apparating back to my flat.” Hermione's not one for diaries, but it's been a week to say the least. It all started off with a confusing meeting with Draco Malfoy in her office, and... well, Hermione thought maybe recording her thoughts on the events would help her process. She isn't wrong.

You lost and lonely, You just like heaven by Wake_The_Dragon - T, WIP - Dramione Romcom Fest. Hermione Granger had needed something new and a change of scenery was a good start. What she hadn't counted on was renting a flat with an annoying (if handsome) ghost, who claims he isn't dead. Somehow, helping out a ghost and falling in love were two things she hadn't bargained for.

You Wish by Talonwillow (Ehollis303) - T, WIP - What makes a bad case of "Black Cat Flu" more tolerable? Young Perseus is learning that hearing about dueling, torture, revenge, giants, dementors, chases, true love, and miracles from his Grandfather Scorpius certainly makes things easier- If the man would finish the story that is. A story about love, where not even death can keep the beautiful feisty stable-girl and her sometimes irritating one true love apart. Together they must battle the evil Lord Voldemort through an adventure crossing the magical and fairy tale realm.

#Fests/Exchanges/Challenges #dramione #Dramione RomCom Fest #humour #fluff #based on other book or movie plot

221 notes · View notes

pogues-never-say-die · 4 years

Text

An Evening I Will Not Forget

There’s not enough Rudy fics on here so I wrote one myself. Who’s ready for a Rudy x High School Sweetheart piece?

Also can you tell I have a real lady boner for Dermot Kennedy? His lyrics are just pure poetry and this song just screamed “Alaska Rudy” to me. This one is based off An Evening I Will Not Forget by Dermot Kennedy. Every version of this song is beautiful but personal favorite is the NPR Tiny Desk rendition - you can listen to that here (I even fast forwarded it for you)

CHARACTERS: Rudy Pankow x (High School Sweetheart) Reader

WARNINGS: smut (at the very end so if it makes you uncomfy you can skip), angst, fluff, a bunch of curse words

LENGTH: 6.2k, I couldn’t stop ya’ll

An Evening I Will Not Forget

When love was found

I kept my hope just like I'd hoped to

Then sang to the sea for feelings deep blue

And coming down

And we've had problems that we've grown through

But I bet you dream of what you could do

“Rudy’s coming,” You don’t know why Ellen chose to tell you this while you were chopping limes for the inevitable tequila shots later. The knife almost slips right from your hand.

“I’m sorry what? I didn’t even know he was home.”

“Yeah, umm Steven picked him up from the airport and told him about tonight. He texted Derrick and asked if it was cool with you if he came.” Ellen’s tone is casual but you can tell she’s very excited. She’s always rooted for you and Rudy from day one.

“Well what did Derrick say?” You don’t bother looking up from your task, you’re afraid with how much your hands are shaking that you’ll cut a finger off if you look up.

“He said it was cool,” God if she wasn’t pregnant you could strangle her for that smirk on her face. “It’s cool right?”

“Does it matter what I say at this point?”

“Not really,” she says getting up from her stool to come kiss your cheek. “I love you, tonight is gonna be fun!”

“Yeah yeah yeah, now leave me alone before I cut you with this.”

“You would never do that to me or your future goddaughter,” she gasps heading out the back door.

Rudy is coming. Here. To your house. When you and Ellen planned this party the second quarantine was lifted, Rudy attending didn’t even cross your mind. Even though it was essentially serving as a high school reunion, you figured he was too busy being all famous in Hollywood to come home. Ever since Outer Banks came out he’d been the talk of the town, and even from your studio all the way in Manhattan you’d heard everything they were saying about him in Ketchikan.

You couldn’t even deny it, you’d watched Outer Banks half a dozen times by now. Once COVID-19 hit NYC you packed your bags and caught the first flight out to Alaska, knowing quarantining out here would be a lot easier than being stuck in the Big Apple on lockdown. With your parents stuck in Florida, you had the house to yourself. That meant no one could judge you as you watched it over and over again, crying pretty much every 30 seconds.

You weren’t crying out of sadness though, just the opposite. You were so fucking proud of Rudy. This was his dream, for as long as you could remember acting was his big “What if”. “What if I did it?” “What if I just tried?” Seeing his eyes as deep and as blue as the Alaskan sea on your TV felt like all of the “What if’s” were worth it. A small part of you was also very petty and happy that him leaving you wasn’t all for nothing.

Knowing he was about to be here, in your house, was starting to fill your chest with dread and anxiety. What if he doesn’t speak to you? Or even worse, what if he does? What if he brings a girl? God are you even ready for that.

You put the knife down and grip the counter with both hands. You’d always hoped you guys would find each other again some day but you weren’t prepared for today to be the day.

Deep breath, deep breath. It’s just Rudy. The blonde shaggy haired kid you’d known since kindergarten. Oh and also your first boyfriend, the guy who took your virginity and the only person you’ve ever truly loved. No big deal at all.

You’re both older, wiser. You’ve grown up. You’re real adults now. You have your own health insurance for Christ's sake. It’s just Rudy. Just Rudy. No big deal. No big deal at all.

Right?

At seventeen, I was alright

Was like nothing I could feel inside

And wishing you were here tonight is like holding on

But I still get to see your face, right?

And that's like nothing they can take, right?

So there won't be no feeling in the firelight

Hoping this'll be right

Time to show your worth, child

Rudy was glad you were inside and couldn’t see him panicking as he sat with Steven in the driveway.

“Dude why are you freaking out? It’s just Y/N.”

“I haven’t seen her in 4 years man, are you sure she evem wants me here?” Rudy was terrified of ambushing you at your house. He missed you like crazy but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“Derrick said it was fine!” Steven argued back, just ready to get inside and get drinking.

“Wait you didn’t talk to her? Jesus fuck dude you know Derrick didn’t either. Fuck I’m so fucked.” Rudy wanted to see you so bad but now he was losing his mind. It’s been a long 4 years.

“Rudy if you don’t fucking get out of the truck I will bring her out here and have her do it. Just think about it, no matter what you get to see her! You get to look at her face in person instead of creepy stalking her on Instagram like we both know you do.”

“Fine fuck.”

As Rudy got out of his truck and climbed your driveway, a feeling of nostalgia came over him. This driveway - he used to sit in it every morning as he picked you up for school. You guys were late almost every day because you could never choose an outfit but he didn’t care.

When he approached the front porch more memories flooded his brain and it was starting to become painful. Right here on this porch is where he kissed you for the first time. He was only 15 when he planted one on you under the porch light, it was clumsy and awkward but still one of his favorite memories.

Walking behind Steven and through the front door, he felt like he had been stabbed in the chest. Everything in your house was still the same. The couch where you guys made love for the first time was still right there, pushed up against the living room wall. All of your guys’ prom pictures were still on the mantle with the rest of your family's memories. Except now displayed front and center was a new picture - you at your Columbia graduation.

Looking at the picture of you holding your degree, Rudy was so fucking proud of you. Getting out of Alaska and going to Columbia had always been your dream. You made it to the big city and you graduated, even getting your dream job right out of college.

While he was admiring your picture, he heard a noise come from the kitchen. And even though there were about 50 people you guys went to high school with packing this house, he could pick that sound out from anywhere.

Taking a deep breath, Rudy turned around to see you sharing a laugh with Steven. God you looked radiant. Your hair was longer than before, darker too. It looked like you finally dyed it like you had always talked about. And your body...wow. Your curves were beautiful, you were a woman now. And if Rudy didn’t deserve you 4 years ago he sure as shit didn’t now. How is it possible that you got more stunning?

Luckily, Rudy had managed to pick his jaw up from the ground by the time you finished hugging Steven and had made eye contact with him from across the open floor plan house.

He saw the way your chest stopped moving, almost as if you had stopped breathing. Good, he wasn’t the only one.

Once he made eye contact with you, his body took control. He couldn’t stop walking towards you even if he wanted to.

I remember when her heart broke over stubborn shit

That's no way to be living, kid

The angel of death is ruthless

Seeing him knocked the breath right out of your chest. It also brought that night back to the forefront of your brain. You’d drank enough, smoked enough, but it was still there - consuming your thoughts like the plague. That night before he left had torn you to be pieces.

4 years ago

“You won’t even try?” The tears running down your face matched the rain outside - just falling with no abandon. There was a storm coming and nothing could stop it.

“It’s not that simple,” he says, sounding exhausted. It's been a long night of just going back and forth over this, but you’re not giving up so easily.

“It is that simple Rudy, it is. You’ve just made a choice without me. You decided I couldn’t handle long distance. You decided it wouldn’t work. You didn’t even talk to me about it. You just made a choice for both of us and frankly that’s bullshit.”

“What are we supposed to do huh?” He’s yelling now, in the 4 years you’ve been dating you’ve definitely had your share of blowouts but you’ve never heard him be this stubborn, so unmovable. “We are literally moving to opposite ends of the country. Do you know how far it is from LA to New York? 2,798 miles. I have it fucking memorized because I sat there and looked at it until my eyes went numb. What other choice do we have?”

“You can try Rudy, you fucking try,” the tears have made their way into your throat and into your chest, making you sound as weak as you felt. “We call, we text, we skype, we send a goddamn carrier pigeon.”

You can tell he’s mad at you for making him laugh even in the middle of a fight because his chuckle dies quickly.

“It’s just not that easy. So what, we’re just going to live digitally? Never see each other? Never touch?”

“It’s a shame they don’t have a giant metal fucking box that can get you from point a to point b rather quickly. Maybe something in the sky? I think it’s called an airplane, have you heard of it? I’m pretty sure the Wright brothers...” You know the snark isn’t necessary but it’s been hours of going back and forth and you’re reaching your breaking point.

“Fucking stop!” Rudy yells, cutting you off, slamming his fist into the steering wheel. He’s reached his breaking point too. “I don’t want to do this but I am. We’re done...there’s just too many variables.”

“After 4 years, I’m just a variable? Loving me is just a piece of the equation you can get rid of to make your life easier?”

“Baby no, that’s not..” He starts but you cut him off.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore. Have fun in LA Rudy, I hope you find whatever you’re looking for.” You say climbing out of his truck and sprinting through the Alaska rain into your house. You’re glad it’s dark so he can’t see through the bay window as you collapse into a ball on the floor.

An hour later when you finally drag yourself off the floor and into your room you check your phone and see a message is waiting.

You open to see an image and a text. The image? A selfie of his chest, where the word “Columbia” is spelled out in bold blue letters on a hoodie.

Him: I will always be proud of you and I will always love you.

Your response is simple but second nature. You’ve responded to his “I love you’s” the same way for 4 years.

Her: Love you always

Now

That was the last time you spoke. 4 years later watching him walk up to you felt like a fever dream.

“Hey Y/N.” It’s weird hearing Rudy sound nervous, he was never nervous.

“Hi Rudy, you look good.” You hate yourself for saying it but it’s true. He does look really good.

“You look...wow. Can I give you a hug?” Is this where we’re at? Asking for permission to touch?

“I’d be mad if you didn’t.” You say with a smile and the sound of his laughter makes your heart soar but also it breaks just a little.

The second his arms wrap around you it feels like home again. You both lean into each other for probably a little too long before you finally decide to untangle yourself.

“Umm, did you see Derrick is here?” Good job Y/N, way to break the tension. Smooth.

“Oh, yeah awesome. I was hoping he would come.”

“Yeah, him and Ellen are in the back.”

“Wait are they together?” He says shocked to hear their names next to each other. Derrick had been in love with Ellen since the 3rd grade. Rudy always joked he loved you longer though.

“Yeah, they’re actually engaged. Ellen’s pregnant too.” That one makes Rudy’s jaw drop.

“Are we at the age of having kids already?” He says following you into the kitchen to grab a beer. You grab two Bud Light’s out of the fridge, cracking them open on the edge of the counter. Your eyes don’t miss the way Rudy shifts in his spot a little, sucking up a breath - he always thought it was hot that you could do that.

“Hell no,” you laugh. “I can’t even keep a cactus alive let alone a human baby.”

“Wait you killed a cactus? Y/N those literally survive in Death Valley. Death Valley.”

You don’t bother to look to see if he’s following you out the door into the backyard, you can still hear him laughing about your cactus.

“It happens Rudy, cacti are very difficult to manage okay!”

The smirks on Ellen and Derrick’s faces are obvious as they watch you and Rudy walk out the back door together and grab chairs next to each other at the bonfire. Ellen winks at you while Rudy leans over to bro shake Derrick. He doesn’t see her wink but he does see you giving her the finger.

“What’s that about?” He says looking at you with curious eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” You reply, sticking your tongue out at Ellen making her giggle and rest her hands on her growing belly.

And I'm always thinking summertime with the bikes out

Pushing our luck, getting wiped out

Days with nothing but laughing loud

“Wait was that the first or second time you broke your wrist?” When Sarah asks that question you start to laugh, thinking about how many times Rudy has been injured.

“No that was number 3...I think?” Rudy responds, his eyes shine hearing you laugh at this conversation. He knows exactly how you feel about his accident prone-ness.

“How many times have you broken your wrist?”

“4” You and Rudy answer at the same, causing you both to laugh and another smirk to reach Ellen’s face.

“Seriously? What was the first time?”

Now you and Rudy are the ones smirking, thinking back to the first time he broke his wrist.

6 years ago

“Come on baby, just try.” Rudy was trying to get you to ride on the back of his dirt bike but it terrified you.

“I’m serious Rudy no,” You say, holding firm, keeping your arms crossed.

“I’ll go really slow, I promise.” He says from his spot leaned up against the bike. He grabs you by the waist and pulls you in between his legs.

“Would I ever let my favorite girl get hurt?” He asks, running kisses up and down your neck as your fingers make their way into his hair.

“No..” You stutter as his kisses on your neck get more aggressive. You know you’re going to have a mark tomorrow but you honestly don’t know if you care.

“Exactly my love. You’re always safe with me.” He punctuates that last word with a hard kiss to your lips and a slightly harder smack against your ass.

“Fine, fine but go slow okay.”

“I promise I will.”

Climbing onto the back of Rudy’s bike, you put on your helmet before wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Hold on tight okay?” Rudy says before putting his helmet on and starting the bike. You agree, wrapping your arms around his waist in an iron grip.

Rudy keeps his promise and goes slow, probably slower than he would’ve preferred, but his girl was on his bike so he didn’t care. He was happy.

After a couple of laps around his super large backyard, Rudy lets you off the bike first. But, as he goes to get off, the bike's muffler gets caught on the hem of his jeans and he falls over, the bike falling on top of him as he tries to catch himself with his hand.

You start to laugh before you hear him groaning in pain, running over you see him holding his wrist.

“Babe what the hell just happened?” You ask, pulling the bike off of him so he can sit up.

“Ahh fuck, I think I broke my wrist.” He was probably right on that conclusion, it was already bruising and beginning to swell.

Rudy doesn’t say much as you walk him to his truck, loading him into the passenger seat before you climb up into the driver's seat. After a few minutes of adjusting the seat (Rudy does have some pretty long legs) you head off to the ER.

Rudy doesn’t say much as you check in and find a seat in the waiting room. It’s pretty quiet in here so you hear Rudy’s small voice almost instantly.

“Hey babe,” He says from his spot leaning on your shoulder.

“Yeah honey?”

“If any of the guys ask, can you tell them I wiped out doing a sick trick?”

“Of course my love,” You say with a loud laugh, pressing a kiss into his hair as you wait for the nurse to call his name.

Now

“Wait, your pant leg got stuck? Dude you told me you were going like 60 and wiped out on a curve.”

“Oops,” You say with a smirk, pressing the beer to your lips as Rudy stutters to his friend. “I thought they knew.”

“Oh you little monster,” Rudy growls, getting up from his chair at the same time you start to run away.

You can’t see the smile on all your friends faces as Rudy chases you through the yard, grabbing you around the waist and picking you up. The sound of both of you laughing louder than ever fills the backyard. The dynamic duo was back together again and you don’t know who was happier - your friends or you.

Underneath my coat, won't you tap my shoulder, hold my hand?

Nights with nothing but dark in there

You could be my armour then

After the biking incident story, you and Rudy joined your friends again, sitting around the fire and sharing stories. And with every memory that came back, you found yourself moving closer and closer to Rudy until your chairs were right next to each other and your legs were in his lap.

His hands rubbed your calves through your leggings, remembering how much it soothed you. Meanwhile your hands were on his biceps, gripping his new (and bigger muscles) like you were afraid if you let go he would slip through your fingers again.

As the night got darker and the fire burned out, you all made your way closer to the house. Standing on the wrap around porch, Rudy leaned against the railing for only a brief second before he pulled you into his arms.

Being in Rudy’s arms again was like nothing ever changed. He was stronger, broader, his chest sturdier than before as it pressed against your back. But the way you felt was the same - like you were flying.

Standing there with your friends, Rudy wrapped around your back like armor, you felt untouchable.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” He leans to whisper in your ear, you didn’t even notice your friends had been talking on the porch for ages, you zoned out the second he touched you though.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say with a smirk, looking up into his eyes. Did they get bluer somehow?

“I think you do.”

“It’s just chilly out here,” that was only a partial lie. It is very cold tonight but Rudy’s skin was lighting you on fire, you could never tell him though.

“Come here,” he says turning you around so you’re facing him. He wraps his arms around your back as yours circle around his back as well, tucking you into his jacket with your face against his chest.

As you snuggle in closer, your eyes close, just enjoying the moment. Rudy keeps talking to your friends but he keeps you pushed into his chest, refusing to let you move even just an inch.

They ask him about Hollywood, Outer Banks, if he has any celebrity numbers in his phone now. He’s trying to stay involved in the conversation but all he can think about is the feeling of your chest breathing against his, your skin touching his skin.

After a while all of your friends make their way inside but you and Rudy stay there on the porch, just pressed against each other.

It’s peaceful until..

“Hey bitches, SHOTS!” Hearing your high school friends rage inside brings you and Rudy out of your little bubble.

“Come on.” He whispers, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers - sneaking you past the open back door and around the porch to the front.

The second he grabs your hand you know where he’s taking you. The swinging bench your parents installed on the front porch had always been your guys’ sanctuary.

Before you and Rudy got settled into the swing, you snuck through the front door and grabbed a blanket and a bottle of wine.

“My girl is a genius,” Rudy says as you return. He really hopes you didn’t hear him because he can’t believe he just slipped up and called you ‘my girl’. Tonight has been going so great, of course he was going to fuck it up.

“I mean I did graduate top of my class from Columbia, didn’t you hear?” You say with a wink before getting settled in next to him. You did hear the ‘my girl’ comment and you’re doing everything you can to not let it tear you apart from the inside.

You weren’t his girl, not anymore.

Island smiles and cardigans

The nights that we've been drinking in

We're here to help you kill all of this hurt that you've been harboring

Confessions should be better planned

Alone, that night, I'm surely damned

Run away, I'll understand

The party is still raging inside but it’s quiet on your front porch. Just you and Rudy, cuddled up on the porch swing, talking about nothing while you pass a bottle of wine back and forth.

As you cuddle into the cardigan Rudy grabbed you from his truck, you look up to see him smiling as he looks out into the Alaskan wilderness. He must have sensed your eyes on him because then he looks down at you.

“What?” He says with a laugh.

“Nothing, just looking at you.” You laugh back.

As you stare at each other, the smile slowly wipes from his face.

“What? What’s wrong?” Now you’re terrified you did something wrong to mess this up. This was the happiest you’ve felt in years, you don’t want to lose it now.

“I just...I wanted to think this through more.” He says back with a whisper.

“Think what through?”

“How I was going to tell you that I never stopped loving you.” That one caught you off guard.

“I’m sorry what?”

“I still love you Y/N. I never stopped. The past 4 years all I’ve done is think about you. I tried calling you a thousand times but it said your number was disconnected.” He tried calling you?

“Yeah I had to get a new phone like 3 months after I made it to New York. I got drunk and lost it,” You say with a laugh, trying to break the tension. You have no idea what to make of this whole situation. Rudy had been trying to get in contact with you? Wait. No. That realization made you get out of the porch swing and start walking towards the front yard.

“Wait, where are you going?” Of course Rudy wasn’t going to just let you run away.

“You don’t get to do this Rudy, this is bullshit. This is so unfair.”

“Y/N, I don’t…” He tried to cut you off but you were too pissed off to stop talking.

“No Rudy, no. ‘I tried calling you’? It’s the year 2020 Rudy, if you wanted to reach me you could. You know my social media accounts. Steven, Derrick, Ellen - they all had my phone number. You could have asked any of them. You knew where my dorm was freshman year, you helped me pick it! You have my mom’s cell phone number for fucks sake. You don’t get to say you tried when you obviously didn’t.” You’re yelling at this point but you don’t even care anymore. Luckily you and Rudy were the only ones in the front yard.

“When I saw your number was disconnected I thought you did it because of me! I thought you were trying to move on.”

“Move on?” Yup, that one made you chuckle. “I never fucking moved on Rudy. It’s been you since kindergarten. How the hell was I supposed to move on?”

“So you never dated anyone else?” Rudy is honestly surprised you didn’t move on. You deserved to, you were a catch and he didn’t deserve you. How did another guy not swoop you up?

“I mean I dated - it’s not like I was celibate for the last 4 years. I had no issues getting men..or women for that matter. I mean it was college Rudy, I was getting it left and right..”

“Alright, alright I get it next point please.” You had to admit, seeing Rudy get angry when you talked about other people felt pretty good.

“My point is none of it was serious. It couldn’t be because you broke me. When you left me, I accepted that that was it for me. I tried to be in a relationship, a couple times but none of them compared to you.”

“Baby…” Hearing that word come out of Rudy’s made your heartbeat a thousand miles a minute. But it stopped completely when he grabbed your face with both of his hands.

“I can’t do this Rudy, you’re just going to leave me again.”

“I’m not baby. I’m not,” He says wiping the tears as they stream down your face. “I came back here for you. I saw you post on Instagram that you were home and I bought the first flight that I could. I knew I had to come back and fight for you.”

“I don’t know Rudy, I just don’t know.”

What's important is this evening I will not forget

Purple, blue, orange, red

These colors of feeling, give me love, I'll put my heart in it

And I think about it all the time

Lights went out, you were fine

You kinda struggle not to shine

By the time you and Rudy were done fighting the party had long died out. Everyone was either home or asleep in your basement, giving you and Rudy some privacy as you sat in your bedroom.

Rudy was being careful to give you space, sitting all the way across your bedroom on your bed while you sat in the window seat, just watching the sunrise.

“I forgot how gorgeous the sunrise is here,” Rudy said, finally breaking the silence.

“What? The sun doesn’t rise in LA?” You respond, still not taking your eyes off the horizon.

You hear the squeak of your bed as Rudy heaves himself off of it and makes his way over to you. He sits opposite you on the window seat, stretching his long legs out so they come all the way to your hip.

“It does but not like this.” He whispers, not wanting to ruin the peace of this moment. “You have to drive all the way out to the beach just to even be able to see the sun rise through all the smog. What about you? How are the sun rises in the Big Apple?”

“When you have a 5th floor walk up in downtown Manhattan you don’t get to see a lot of sunrises or sunsets for that matter. Sometimes though, you can see it reflect off the buildings like a giant, beautiful mirror.”

“Do you miss New York?”

“A little. I miss a lot of things more though.” You say with a sigh.

“Like what?” He asks, moving your sock covered feet into his lap. He can’t help but admire that even at 22 you still wear cartoon socks, he always thought it was adorable.

“Do I have to say it?” You say with a whisper. Maybe if you say it quietly enough he won’t hear you.

“I really wish you would.” He whispers back.

“I miss you, a lot.” He doesn’t know why you’re still whispering but even hearing you quietly say those words has made his heart go wild.

“But also, you broke me Rudy. You utterly and completely shattered me. I’m not the same girl that got out of that truck 4 years ago. When I moved to New York it was like a part of me was gone. It took a long time for me to feel normal again.”

“I get that, me too.”

“No Rudy, no you don’t get that,” You yell back. Getting up from the window seat you start pacing like you do every time you’re nervous, it helps your brain think. “Are you forgetting we still had each other on social media? I’m in New York crying my eyes out and I see you all over snapchat - sneaking into clubs in LA and going to rooftop parties. Do you know how much that hurts?”

“Y/N, I…” Rudy doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t think about how his partying would hurt you. He was just self medicating, trying to live the LA life and not think about how much he had royally fucked up.

“I’m not the same person anymore Rudy. And that’s because of you. And you don’t get to come back here and pretend like you didn’t destroy me.”

“I don’t want to pretend like it didn’t happen Y/N”. That one really knocked you off guard. As Rudy approached you and grabbed your face he got you to stop pacing.

“I don’t want to move backwards, I want to move forwards.” He said with a one hand grip on your chin, the other hand on your waist.

“I don’t understand…” Looking into Rudy’s eyes you can see the moisture swimming in the corners, making them look bluer than ever.

“I don’t want to pretend like it didn’t happen. It did, it’s part of our history. And honestly, if I could take it back I probably wouldn’t. Because you and I needed to grow up. We needed to experience the world outside of Ketchikan. We needed to be our own people without each other. And now that we’ve done that, we can come back together. For real.”

Turning around, too scared to keep looking Rudy in the eyes, you watch the sun fully peak above the horizon, filling the sky with some of the most beautiful colors you have ever seen. Hues of purple, orange, yellow, blue and red take over everything you see.

“It’s beautiful,” You whisper as Rudy’s arms find their way around your waist from behind.

“It really is, it’s the start of a new day.”

“A new day.” And with that realization that it is a new day, a new time - you turn around so fast that it catches Rudy off guard a little. Slamming your lips into his, Rudy catches up real quick. I mean come on, he’s only been dreaming about this moment for 4 fucking years.

Rudy let’s it all be under your control, your terms. He waits for you to walk him over to the bed and push him down, straddling him as your tongue relearns the taste of his mouth.

As you grind your hips into his, Rudy has to break away from your mouth to moan. You take that opportunity to run your lips down his jawline and to his neck, sucking a bruise into the area as your hands make their way under his shirt and start pushing it up.

“Baby baby baby, wait wait wait…” Rudy says out of breath, his pupils blown out as you make eye contact with him. All of a sudden you’re very self conscious.

“Wait...do you...do you not want this?” Rudy’s heart breaks at how nervous you sound.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I want this, of course I do…” He says running his hands through your hair. “I just want to make sure you do. I didn’t come here for this. So I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”

He’s such a gentleman that it simultaneously pisses you off a little while also making you incredibly turned on.

“Rudy, let me put it this way…” You say, learning down to suck on his ear before whispering into it. “If you don’t make me cum right now, I’m more than happy to handle it myself.”

“Oh you little minx.”

I still love you, though

I still love you always

So hold me when I'm home, keep the evenings long

Let's not crack and break and part ways

It’s for real, it’s for real.

Making love with Rudy was different now. Both of your bodies had changed and matured but that’s not what was different. The feelings, the emotions were stronger.

“Baby please,” he says with a whine as he hovers above you, still slowly thrusting into you like he wants this moment to last forever. “Please cum, please.”

“I’m so close, I’m right there.” Running your fingers down his back you know he’s going to have scratches tomorrow but you don’t care. You don’t care about anything other than the way he’s perfectly filling you up. You’ve been empty for so long that you never want this feeling to end.

“Look at me,” his voice is commanding now. You open your eyes just in time to see his hand snake down in between your bodies as his other keeps him propped up above you. “I love you. I love you so much. Cum for me baby, please. Cum for me.”

Between his begging, his perfect rhythm, and his fingers rubbing circles on your clit, you fall apart. Rudy isn’t far behind you as you feel his hips stutter and you’re filled with warmth.

Once you both finish riding out your orgasms he doesn’t pull out, you two stay connected as he collapses on top of you.

“Did you mean it?” You whisper combing your fingers through his hair.

“I’m literally still inside of you, do you really want to talk about this right now?” He says with a laugh, making you shake from the way your bodies are still connected.

“Well you could pull out.”

“We both know that’s not happening anytime soon,” There’s that classic Rudy smirk. “Of course I meant it. We said ‘always’ right?”

“Don’t do this to me Rudy,” You can feel the tears building in your eyes. God could anything be more embarrassing then crying in front of the boy you love while his cock is still in you? “Don’t say something you don’t mean”.

“I mean it, I’ve always meant it, I’ll always mean it,” He says, punctuating each part with a kiss on your face. You whine as he pulls out of you, the emptiness in your body and your heart growing again.

You expect him to get up and leave but instead he sits up against the headboard, pulling your naked body into his lap so you’re straddling him, nowhere to look but directly into the blue abyss.

“We’re older now. Smarter. You have money, I have money, we can fly to see each other every weekend if we have to. You can come stay with me on set and I can come stay with you in New York when I have breaks. We can do this, for real this time. Two adults, in love. I want to do this.”

You don’t know if it’s your previous orgasm or his words that knock the air out of your chest.

“For real?” You ask, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“For real.”

“I still love you” he whispers into your lips.

“I still love you always”.

TAGLIST: @tangledinsparkles @iamaunicorn4704 @devil-in-those-eyes @spilledtee

#rudy x reader #rudy pankow #jj outer banks #jj maybank #outer banks imagine #rudy pankow x you #obx imagine #jj imagine #rudy imagine #original writing #dermot kennedy #music #playlist #obx smut #smut #rudy pankow smut

449 notes · View notes

route22ny · 3 years

Link

What My Korean Father Taught Me About Defending Myself in America

Born in 1939 during what would be the last years of the Japanese colonial occupation of Korea, my father, Choung Tai Chee, also called Charles or Chuck or Charlie, came to the United States in 1960. He was flashy, cocky, unafraid, it seemed, of anything. Wherever we were in the world, he seemed at home, right up until near the end of his life, when he was hospitalized after a car accident that left him in a coma. Only in that hospital bed, his head shaved for surgery, did he look out of place to me.

A tae kwon do champion by the age of 18 in Korea, he had begun studying martial arts at age 8, eventually teaching them as a way to put himself through graduate school, first in engineering and then oceanography, in Texas, California, and Rhode Island. He loved the teaching. The rising popularity of martial arts in the 1960s in Hollywood meant he made celebrity friends like Frank Sinatra Jr., Paul Lynde, Sal Mineo, and Peter Fonda, who my father said had fixed him up on a date with his sister, Jane, in the days before Barbarella. A favorite photo from his time in Texas shows him flying through the air, a human horseshoe, each of his bare feet breaking a board held shoulder high on each side by his students.

When I complained about my wet boots during the winters growing up in Maine, he told me stories about running barefoot in the snow in Korea to harden his feet for tae kwon do. His answer to many of my childhood complaints was usually that I had to be tougher, stronger, prepared for any attack or disaster. The lesson his generation took from those they lost to the Korean War was that death was always close, and I know now that he was doing all he could to teach me to protect myself. When I cried at the beach at the water’s edge, afraid of the waves, he threw me in. “No son of mine is going to be afraid of the ocean,” he said. When I first started swimming lessons, he told me I had to be a strong swimmer, in case the boat I was on went down, so I could swim to shore. When he taught me to body-surf, he taught me about how to know the approach of an undertow, and how to survive a riptide. When I lacked a competitive streak, he took to racing me at something I loved—swimming underwater while holding my breath. I was an asthmatic child, but soon, intent on beating him, I could swim 50 yards this way at a time.

For all of that, he was an exceedingly gentle father. He took me snorkeling on his back, when I was five, telling me we were playing at being dolphins. There he taught me the names of the fish along the reef where we lived in Guam. He would praise the highlights in my hair, and laugh, calling me “Apollo.” And as for any pressure regarding my future career, he offered something very rare for a Korean man of his generation. “Be whatever you want to be,” he told me. “Just be the best at it that you can possibly be.”

Only when I was older did I understand the warning about being strong enough to swim to shore in another context, when I learned the boat he and his family had fled in from what was about to become North Korea nearly sank in a storm. In Seoul as a child, he scavenged food for his family with his older brother, coming home with bags of rice found on overturned military supply trucks, while his father went to the farms, collecting gleanings. His attempts to teach me to strip a chicken clean of its meat make a different sense now. I had thought of him as an immigrant without thinking about how the Korean War made him one of the dispossessed, almost a refugee, all before he left Korea.

When I began getting into fights as a child in the U.S., he put me into classes in karate and tae kwon do for these same reasons. He loved me and he wanted me to be strong. I just wasn’t sure how I was supposed to take on a whole country.

We moved to Maine in 1973, when I was six years old. My father had taken us back to Korea after I was born, to work for his father, and then moved us around the Pacific—from Seoul to the islands of Truk, Kawaii, and Guam, in his and my mother’s attempts to set up a fisheries company. Maine was his next experiment, and not coincidentally, my mother’s home state. On my first day of the first grade, in the cafeteria, after a morning spent in what seemed like reasonably friendly classes, my troubles began when I went up to take an empty seat at a table and the blond haired, blue-eyed white boy seated there looked up with some alarm and asked me, “Are you a chink?”

“What’s a chink?” I asked, though I knew it wasn’t a compliment. I had never heard this word before.

“A Chinese person. You look like a chink. Is that why your face is so flat?”

This was also the first day I can remember being insulted about my appearance.

“I am not Chinese,” I said that day, naively. In a few years I would learn I was in fact part Chinese, 41 generations back, but at that moment, I tried to explain to him about how I was half Korean, a nationality and situation he had never heard of before. Half of what? And so this was also the first day I had to explain myself to someone who didn’t care, who had already decided against me.

He was a white boy from America, and he was repeating insults that seem to me to have come from a secret book passed out to white children everywhere in this country, telling them to call someone Asian “Chink,” to walk up to them, muttering “Ching-chong, ching-chong.” To sing a song, “My mother’s Chinese, my father’s Japanese, I’m all mixed up,” pulling their eyes first down and then up and then alternating up and down.

I was struck, watching Minari a few months ago, when the film’s Korean immigrant protagonist, David, is asked by a white boy in Arkansas in the 1980s why his face is so flat. “It’s not,” David says, forcefully—so many of us have this memory of someone saying this to us and responding that way. Why did a boy in Arkansas and a boy in Maine, in their small towns thousands of miles apart, before the internet, each know to make this insult?

When I got home from that first day at school, I asked my mother what the word “Chink” meant, and she flinched and covered her mouth in concern.

“Who said that to you?” she asked, and I told her. I don’t remember the conversation that followed, just the swift look of concern on her face. The sense that something had found us.

I was the only Asian-American student at my school in 1973, and the first many of my classmates had ever met. When my brother joined me at school three years later, he was the second. When my sister arrived, four years after him, she was the third. My mother is white, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed American, born in Maine to a settler family. I have six ancestors who fought in the Revolutionary War, but none of them had to fight this. I don’t know how to separate the teasing, harassment, and bullying that marked my 12 years of life there from that first racist welcome. It makes me question whether I really had a “temper” as a child, as I was told, or whether I was merely isolated by racism among racists, afraid and angry?

My father dealt with racism throughout most of his life by acting as if it had never happened—as if admitting it made it more powerful. He knew bullies loved to see their victims react and would tell me to not let what they said upset me. “Why do you care what they think of you?” he would say, and laugh as he clapped me on the shoulder. “They’re all going to work for you someday.”

“Don’t get even, get ahead,” was another of his slogans for me at these times. As if America was a race we were going to win.

Two decades after his death, writing in my diary while on a subway in New York City, I began counting off all of my activities as a child—choir, concert band, swimming, karate and tae kwon do, clarinet, indoor track, downhill and cross country skiing—and I asked myself if my parents were trying to raise Batman. Then I looked down to the insignia on my Batman t-shirt, and I laughed.

These lessons my father gave me—to be the best you can be, to fight off your enemies and defeat them, to swim to safety if the boat sinks, and in general toughen yourself against everything that would harm you—these I had absorbed alongside certain unspoken lessons, taken from observing his life as a Korean immigrant. To have two names, one American, known to the public, and one Korean, known only to a few intimates; to get rid of your accent; and to dress well as a way to keep yourself above suspicion. Did I need to train like a superhero just to be a person in America? Maybe.

But if I thought of superheroes, it was because my father was like one to me, training me to be like him.

One legend I heard about my father when I was growing up is the story of a night he was being held up at gunpoint, while he was unpacking his car. Whoever it was asked him to shut the trunk and turn around and raise his hands in the air. He agreed to, slamming the car trunk down so forcefully, he sank his fingertips into the metal.

By the time he turned around, the would-be stick-up artist was gone.

He would often ask me and my brother to punch him, as hard as we could, in his stomach. He was proud of his abdominal strength—it was like punching a wall. We would shake our hands, howling, and he would laugh and rub our heads. One time he even used it as a gag to stop a bully.

A boy on my street had developed the habit of changing the rules during our games if his team started losing. We had fights over it that could be heard up and down the street, and one day I chased him with a Wiffle bat, him laughing as I ran. My father stepped in the next time he tried to change the rules during a game and prevented it, telling him all games in his yard had to have the same rules at the beginning as the end—you couldn’t change them when you were losing. When the boy got mad, he said, “I bet you want to hit me, you should hit me. You’ll feel better. Hit me right here, in the stomach, as hard as you can.”

The boy hauled off and punched my dad in the stomach. I knew what was coming. The boy went home crying, shaking his hand at the pain. His mom came over and they had a talk. The rule-changing stopped.

I tried teasing my classmates back after being told to by my father. Stand-up as self-defense requires practice, though: During a “Where are you from?” exercise in the second grade, I told my classmates and teacher I had “Made in Korea” stamped on my ass, which elicited shocked laughter and a punishment from my teacher. I remember the glee when I called a classmate an ignoramus, and he didn’t know what it meant—and got angrier and angrier when I wouldn’t tell him, demanding that I explain the insult. When told to go back to where I came from, I said, “You first.”

Increasingly, I just hid, in the library, in books. When given detention, I exulted in the chance to be alone and read. I was an advanced student compared to my classmates, due in part to my mother being a schoolteacher, and I learned to make my intelligence a weapon.

The day several boys held me down on my street and ran their bicycles over my legs, to see if I could take it, as if maybe I wasn’t human, that felt like some new horrible level. I don’t remember how that ended or if I ever told anyone, just the feeling of the bicycle tires rolling over the skin of my legs. The day I bragged about my father being a martial artist to my classmates, they locked me in the bathroom and told me to fight my way out with kung fu, calling me “Hong Kong Phooey,” after the cartoon character, as they held the door shut. This was the fourth grade. After I got out of that bathroom and went home, I told my father about it, and he told me it was time to take tae kwon do. I had to learn to defend myself.

I would never be like him, never break boards like him, but for a while, I tried. I still cherish the day he gave me my first gi and showed me how to tie it. I learned I had a natural flexibility, which meant I could easily kick high, and I took pride in my roundhouse and reverse roundhouse kicks. But after a few years, my father took issue with a story he’d heard about my teacher’s arrogance toward his opponents, and he pulled me out of the classes. “It is very dangerous to teach in that spirit,” he told me. And he said something I would never forget. “The best fighter in tae kwon do never fights,” he said. “He always finds another way.”

I have thought about this for a long time. For the ordinary practitioner, tae kwon do and karate prepare you to go about your life, aware of what to do in case of assault. They offer no guarantee, just chances for preparedness in the face of the violence of others as well as the violence within yourself. At the time I felt my father was describing the responsibility that comes with knowing how to hurt someone, but I came to understand it as a principled if conditional non-violence, which, in this year of quarantine and rising racist violence, is one of the clearest legacies he left to me.

Like many of us, I have been trying to write about these most recent attacks on Asian-Americans, some of them in my old neighborhood in New York, and I keep starting and stopping. How do we protect ourselves and those we love? Can writing do that? I know I learned to use my intelligence as a weapon to keep myself safe from racists, starting as a child, and suddenly it doesn’t feel like enough. The violence is like a puzzle with many moving parts, but the stakes are life and death. “You’re really going to homework your way through this one?” I keep asking myself. The people attacking Asians and Asian Americans now are like the boy I met on my first day in the first grade. They don’t care whether or not we are actually Chinese—the primary experience Asian Americans have in common is mis-identification. The person who gets a patriotic ego boost off of calling me a “chink” isn’t going to check if they’re right about me, and I don’t imagine they’ll stop their fist or their gun if I say, “You’re just doing this because of America’s history of war in Asia,” even though we both know this is true. And so I have been thinking of my father and what he taught me.

The most overt way my father fought racism in front of me involved no fighting at all. He founded a group called the Korean American Friendship Association of Maine, which helped new Korean immigrants move to Maine and find work, community, and housing, along with offering lessons on how to open bank accounts, pay taxes, file immigration paperwork, and get drivers’ licenses. For both of my parents, community organizing, activism, and mutual aid like this were commitments they shared and enjoyed and passed along to us, their children, and this led to much of my own work as an activist, teacher, and writer. I am not my father, but I am much as he made me.

There’s a difference between fighting racists and fighting racism. Where my father stayed silent, I have learned I have to speak out, which has felt, even while writing this, a little like betraying him. And as a biracial gay Korean American man, I don’t experience the same identifications or misidentifications he did. I am mistaken for white, or at least “not Asian,” as often as I’m mistaken for Chinese, and have felt like a secret agent as people speak in front of me about Asians in ways they would not otherwise. I learned most of my adult coping strategies for street violence from queer activist organizations after college.

Even as I write, “I wonder if he ever felt fear living in America,” it feels like a betrayal, especially as he isn’t around for me to ask him. I think again about how my father always made a point of dressing well, for example, but it always felt like more than that. Men wearing suits as a kind of armor, that isn’t so strange. He had his suits made at J. Press, wore handmade English leather shoes—shoes that fit me. I sometimes wear them for special occasions. Among my favorite objects of his is a monogrammed J. Press canvas briefcase, the name “CHEE” in embossed leather between the straps. After his father gave him an Omega Constellation watch when I was born, he eventually acquired others. For a time I thought he did this aspirationally, but most of his family in Korea is like this: Well-dressed, with a preference for tailoring and handmade clothes. All of my memories of my uncles coming from the airport to visit us involve them arriving in their blazers.

The first time I followed my father’s advice to wear a sports jacket when flying, I received a spontaneous upgrade. I didn’t have frequent flyer miles and the person checking me in was not flirting with me either. There was nothing but the moment of grace, and the feeling that my father, from beyond the grave, was making a point as I sat down in my new, larger, more spacious seat. Because I had never tried out this advice while he was alive.

Like much of my father’s advice, it came from his keen awareness of social contexts, and it worked. His wardrobe came from the pleasure of a dare more than a disguise. You don’t acquire a black and gold silk brocade smoking jacket in suburban Maine because you want to fit in with your white neighbors. Sometimes his clothes were a charm offensive, sometimes just a sass. The jacket advice may well have been an anticipation of racist treatment, of a piece with perfecting his English so he had no accent, and raising us to speak only English. My mother spoke more Korean to us as children than he did—a remnant of her time living in Seoul.

Now that I am old enough to choose to learn Korean, I still feel like a child disobeying him, just as I do when I dress too casually, or acknowledge that I’ve experienced racism. I know I am just making different choices, as you do when you are grown, but also, I am stepping out from behind his program to protect myself. I feel the fears he never spoke about, and instead simply addressed with what now look like tactics. At these moments I miss him as much as I ever do, but especially for how I would tell him, this may have protected you. It won’t protect me.

In my kitchen the other day, as I was making coffee, I fell into the ready stance, with my right foot back, left foot forward, and snapped my right leg up and out in a front snap kick. This is the basic first kick you learn in tae kwon do. And you do it again, and again, and again, until it is muscle memory. You move across the room this way and then turn to begin again.

I wasn’t sure if my form was exactly right, but it felt good. Memories came back of the sweaty smell of the practice room, the other students, the mirrors on the walls, the fluorescent lights. All those years ago, I had thought my father had put me in those classes in order to become him, but as I sent my practice kicks through the air, I remembered how even learning them made me feel safer, protected at least by the knowledge that he loved me. I could not have said this at the time, but after those attacks, I had feared I wasn’t strong enough to be his son.

I still fear that. I suppose it drives me, even now. It is dehumanizing to insist on your humanity, even and perhaps especially now, and so I am not doing that here. Each time I’ve tried to write even this, a rage takes over, and then the only thing I want to do with my hands doesn’t involve writing, and I stop. But I know from learning to fight that hitting someone else means using yourself to do it. My father’s advice, about fighting being the last resort, has given me another lesson: You turn yourself into the weapon when you strike someone else—in the end, another way to erase yourself—and so you do that last. In the meantime, you fight that first fight with yourself, for yourself.

You may never be able to protect what you love, but at least you can try. At least you will be ready.

Alexander Chee is most recently the author of the essay collection How to Write an Autobiographical Novel. A novelist and essayist, he teaches at Dartmouth College and lives in Vermont.

#asian-american #anti-asian hate #racism in america #alexander chee #long reads

29 notes · View notes

world-of-puppets · 3 years

Text

Puppetry Lost Media

In honour of reaching 50 followers last week (now 55 followers, as of writing this) I decided to cover two subjects of great interest to me: puppetry (of course) and lost media.

Everybody online loves a good old bit of lost media. Whether it be being a part of the many searches for the media in question, or watching documentaries about them on sites like YouTube. I’ve been mildly addicted to the latter kind of content for a while. From what I’ve seen, though, there aren’t many videos or articles out there specifically covering lost puppetry. So, in no particular order, here are a couple of pieces of lost puppetry I found while scrolling through the lost media wiki.

銀河少年隊 - Ginga shounen-tai AKA Galaxy Boy Troop (1963 - 1965)

Osamu Tezuka is one of the most pioneering figures in Japanese art and animation. Starting as a manga artist in the 1940s inspired by the animated works of American studios such as Walt Disney and the Fliecer Brothers, he adapted and simplified many of the stylistic techniques of both artists to create his own signature style of big shiny eyes, physics defying hair and limited animation. A style that would go on to heavily influence the world of anime and manga as a whole.

But animation and graphic art were not the only mediums Tezuka would dabble in. Ginga Shounen-Tai, or Galaxy Boy Troop in english, was a television series that aired on the public broadcast channel NHK from April 7th, 1963 to April 1st, 1965. Running for 2 seasons with a total of 92 episodes.

The series was a mixture of marionette characters that utilised the Supermarionation marionette technique, popularised by Jerry Anderson’s Thunderbirds, and limited traditional animation. The story revolves around a child genius named Roy who leads a rag-tag group of heros around the galaxy in a rocket ship in order to revive the earth’s sun and later protect it from alien invaders.

Out of the 92 episodes that aired, only episode 67 still exists in its entirety with French subtitles, and the full episode can be found on YouTube with English subtitles uploaded by user Rare TezukaVids. According to user F-Man on the Tezuka in English forums, footage of episode 28 exists but with no audio, and episode 87’s animated segments exist without the marionette segments. F-Man also claims the reason for Galaxy Boy Troop’s disappearance is due to Tezuka not being proud of the series and having all episodes of it destroyed.

Personally, I think it’s a shame that pretty much all of this series is gone. From what I’ve seen in episode 67, it looks really charming. Tezuka’s signature character design style was adapted suprisingly well to marionettes, and the puppetry itself isn’t that bad either. I love the little face mechanisms like the blinking eyes, flapping mouths and others. It gives the puppets a lot of personality and charm. Like, just look at this old mans eyebrow mechanism and tell me you wouldn’t want to watch 92 episodes of this show;

Tinseltown (2007)

Tinseltown was a 15 minute sitcom pilot created by the Jim Henson company under thier Henson Alternative banner. The pilot was commissioned by the Logo Network and aired as part of the Alien Boot Camp programming block in 2007.

The pilot (and likely the series, had it been picked up by the logo network) features a cast of both puppets and live actors as characters. The premise revolves around Samson Kight, an anthropomorphic bull preformed by Brian Henson and drew Massey, and his partner Bobby Vegan, an anthropomorphic pig prefomed by Bill Barretta and Michelan Sisti, as they attempt to balance thier lives working in Hollywood with life as parents to thier sullen 12-year-old foster son, Foster, played by Paul Butcher. Other human characters included Mia Sara as Samson’s ex-wife Lena and Francesco Quinn as the family’s manservant Arturo.

The Tinseltown pilot used to be available on the Logo Network’s YouTube channel, but was later removed for unknown reason. Since then, the pilot has not been made available online. However the characters Samson and Bobby have made appearances in other Henson related works, such as the improv stage show Stuffed and Unstrung, where they played the role as the shows producers, and in a 2011 video on the Jim Henson Company YouTube channel celebrating Jim Hensons 75th birthday.

I find Tinseltown pretty interesting as I feel like it should be more noateable or known, considering that this is (as far as my knowledge goes) the first Jim Henson Company project featureing openly lgbtq characters as its leads, and would have been the first Henson show to do so had it been picked up. As someone who’s interested in lgbtq+ representation in creative media such as animation, I realised that there’s not many examples of canon lgbt characters in puppetry. The only ones aside from Samson and Bobby I could think off the top of my head would be Deet’s Dads from The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance and Rod from Avenue Q. Though, obviously, there could be more I’m not currently aware of. I don’t think the Tinseltown pilot was a masterpiece or anything. After all, there’s probably a couple of good reasons Logo didn’t pick it up for a full series. But I think it be cool if either Henson co. or Logo made this available online again, if just so we could appericate it as an interesting little footnote in the history of lgbtq rep in puppetry.

With that said, considering the pilot’s obscurity and the fact that it’s main couple haven’t been used in any Henson Related projects in almost ten years, as well as the possibility that there may be legalities preventing the Henson company from releasing it such as Logo still owning the rights, it’s unlikely we’ll see the Tinseltown pilot anytime soon.

Sonic Live in Sydney (1997 - 2000)

Sonic the Hedgehog is a fictional character no stranger to multiple interpretations of him and his universe across a diverse range of media. From the more light-hearted and comedic stylings of The Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog and Cartoon Networks Sonic Boom cartoon series, to more serious faire such as the Sonic SatAM cartoon and the Sonic Adventure videogame duology. One of the more obscure and stranger adaptations of the character came in the form of Sonic Live in Sydney, a one an a half hour live show hosted at the former Sega World Sydney amusement park in Darling Harbor, Sydney, Australia. Originally beginning as a live show with actors in meet-and-greet style costumes, the show eventually was replaced with a puppet show during its last two years.

The shows plot was set in an alternate timeline whos continuity was a mix of the SatAM cartoon and Sonic the Hedgehog 3, where Doctor Robotnik’s Death Egg crash lands in Sydney, Australia instead of Angel Island and attempts to take over before being foiled by sonic and friends. According to Phillip Einfeld of Phillip Einfeld Puppetoons, the company that made the puppets, Sega felt the costumed actor version of the show wasn’t dynamic enough, and wished to replace it with a version featuring live puppets with animatronics. Both versions of the shows plot are identical.

While Sonic Live in Sydney’s soundtrack is available on YouTube, and some photos of the show are available on the Lost Media Wiki, no footage of either the costumed actors version or the puppet show version have resurfaced. The show was closed down in 1999, possibly due to cost, shortly before the Sega World park as a whole in 2000. So unless there is someone out there who viseted the show between 1998 or 1999 who recorded the show via a handheld camera, footage of both incarnations of the show are likely forever lost to time.

On a personal note, I don’t have much to say on this one other than how gloriously peek gaudy 90s Sonic the set/puppet design is. I have no doubt finding footage of these puppets in action would truly be a silly delight to behold...

Legend of Mary (year unknown)

This one is a little different from the other entries on this list as while the film itself in its entiraty is available on YouTube for anyone to view, the information surrounding Legend of Mary, specifically its year of release, remains a mystery as of writing this.

I have mentioned the film before on this blog so I’ll keep it brief here: in summary, Legend of Mary is a short film retelling of the Nativity featuring the Rod puppets of Austrian puppeteer Richard Teschner. the video was uploaded to YouTube by user canada 150 archive. I looked up the people credited in the film and was able to find most of them, but didn’t find Legend of Mary listed in thier credits, and was unable to find the film on sites like IMDB, tMDB or Letterboxd. I reached out to Canada 150 archive asking if they had any info regarding the Legend of Mary’s release date, and after a coupe of months, they replied saying they didn’t know.

And that’s as far as I got on my search for answers, if anyone of you guys has any information regarding Legend of Mary, then it be of huge help in finding the release date.

Sam and friends (1955 - 1961)

Sam and friends was the very first puppetry television series created by Jim Henson alongside his colabarator and future wife Jane Nebel. filmed in Washington, D.C. and airing twice daily on WRC-TV and the NBC affiliate in Washington, D.C. from May 9, 1955, to December 15, Sam and Friends would mark the first apperence of Kermit (though not yet as a frog) and paved the way for Henson’s iconic and revered legacy in the realm of puppetry on film and television.

With the impact this show had in mind, it may come as a shock to some that almost half of Sam and Friends, specifically, 42 of the 86 episodes, are considered lost. With 16 existing, 8 documented, 9 known from memory, plus 8 existing Esskay commercials and 1 memory-known Esskay commercial. Some taped episodes have been shown at venues such as the museum of the moving image while others have been erased. It’s unknown if copies of these erased episodes still exist.

This post would become far to long if I were too list every episode missing from Sam and Freinds, but if your curious, the lost media wiki article has a comprehensive list of all lost episodes.

Annnd that about it for this post. This type of content is pretty different from the stuff I usually post. So I’m egar to see what you guys think about it. If you enjoyed this article, want to see more like it or have ideas for what puppetry-related topics I should cover in the future. And again, thank you all so much for helping me reach 55 followers. Your support really does mean a lot to me, and I hope you enjoyed this as a follower milestone gift.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this dip into lost puppetry, and have a happy holiday season!

82 notes · View notes