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maryannecrimsworth · 1 year

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Trainwreck

Pairing: Hailey Upton x OFC! Elizabeth "Ellie" O'Hara

Summary: O'Hara's undercover case is finally done: the attack was tracked, the boys were identified and the school got evacuated at time. But the teacher, Mrs. Baker --- Ellie's cover --- was caught by the last shooter. And he knows what she had done.

Author's note: Last week, many teenage boys attempted to attack schools of my country. They were stopped. Yet, I had this nightmare on April 20th, and I couldn't get it out of my mind ever since. I wrote this in order to get rid of my thoughts, and to thank all the police offers and people involved who were able to stop the attacks and help amidst all the violence and sorrow.

Warnings: violence; shooting; mention of school shooting; crying; panic attack

It felt cold. Icy. Empty.

It trembled and faltered as I tried to keep standing. The only thing I felt was my spine: the cold running up and down by it. I did not feel my skin, nor the tears soaking my face. I felt the cold, of my body and of the gun, aimed to my forehead, brushing it ever so slightly.

The kid did not even know to hold it. But he screamed and screamed – I could not understand what. He had said it, repeated it a dozen times, but I didn't reply. I heard the silence amidst his shouts: I knew what sound was about to emerge, and I waited for it.

It was the only thing that kept from bending down and begging for mercy. I felt limbs trying to make me knee, but I fought back. I fought, with my eyes closed and empty body, while his screams spread all over the classroom. Chairs and tables were thrown in my direction, yet I did not see it. Were they threats? Were they aiming at me, just like his gun?

A loud sound stopped his voice from rising again: his face turned white for a moment, then he smiled.

"It has begun." He spoke proudly. The revolver touched my forehead again. "You were useless. You are useless." The gun clicked, smoothly. "Your fucking traitor bitch."

"CHICAGO P.D!" The sound came as a divine response to him. The sound I waited so long for. "DROP THE GUN!"

I could hear him gasping. Finally, I could hear him – and I could feel my body. The cold was still there, but a burst of energy moved my arms in his direction. His panic became worse than mine – his hand faltered, and he nearly shot my head; if not for the sudden move I had made, I would be dead. The board behind me was hit and broken, the kid jumped with the powerful feeling of the gun kick in his hand and dropped it. It fired again, and hit a chair in the room. The metal echoed as the chair fell into pieces.

He was not strong. He could not be – he was a weak and small teenage boy, too tiny to fight back; bold enough to use a gun instead – he was a shooter. A bullied kid. A coward, in pain. I've seen it during all the months I've spent in his class, in his school – I became his teacher, in order to save him. Or to stop him.

But, today, he was no longer a victim. No longer a sad, suffering boy. Today he was a monster, a furious man, willing to kill. He had followers spread in the school. Followers that were now arrested, or killed. He was seconds away from paying for his crimes – for his plan to revenge and to murder.

He knew that he had lost. He knew that it was over. And all his rage came to the surface at once – he roared like a beast, and jumped over me as the steps reached the hallway.

He stretched and punched me, wildly, blindly, and I held his arms. I looked at his eyes as he screamed at me: his eyes. His eyes were...different. They didn't belong to my student, to a shy kid – they were violent. Vile. Evil. My body froze as I stared into his soul – it was like looking at the devil himself.

My ears sizzled while blood started to pop up from his blows. His fingernails pierce through my skin – he wasn't trying to escape from my hands. He was trying to hurt me. I could see it in his eyes: he wanted to kill me.

I did not hear the sound of the police stepping into the room. I did not hear her warnings. I did not hear the shot.

I only felt his weight and body in my hands.

Someone pulled me away – his body fell without my support. Lifeless. I wasn't able to hold him. I wasn't able to help him. No one was. Not anymore.

The kid was dead.

"They're fine. They're fine." A voice tried to calm me down. Its hands moved me away, but my eyes stayed on the floor. On him. "The school was evacuated." Sargeant? It was him? Voight stopped the shouting? "No one got hurt." The cold came back. My spine -- the only thing I felt -- trembled and shuddered. I fell. I did not feel my knees hitting the ground. "Look at me!" His blood was spreading over the floor. I was too far away to touch it. The officers around him shook their heads in sync. An ambo was not needed. He was dead. "Look at me!"

"He's dead." I mumbled. "I did it– I did not–" I crawled towards him – the coldness moved me forward, the despair shook and drove me. "Jimmy is dead. Oh my god." My chest was crushed -- my own weight was too heavy. I fell again. "What have I done?"

"You saved a whole school." There were hands holding me. Keeping me from the bloodied floor and curious eyes of other officers. "Listen to me! You saved dozens of children. You saved them. You hurted no one." I wasn't able to look at him anymore. Someone was in front of me. "Look at me, O'Hara. Look at me." My gaze focused on the person ahead. Hailey wasn't shaking as I was. Her grip felt strange in my skin. "You did great. Everyone's safe because of you." She was smiling. Trying to. "You listened? You saved all of them."

"Not all." Her touch helped me to feel something besides the coldness. Soon I felt my body and I was able to control it again. I stood up. I walked away. I left the classroom with Hailey Upton's arms around my shoulders. She made me move. She made me, finally, step away from the kid. From the shooter.

His image was confusing in my head and heart – I was satisfied and sad at the same time.

I could not cheer as the rest of the police officers. I could not be glad because of my "good job". I could not accept Voight's compliments.

"Can I go home?" I asked as soon as he finished explaining the last details of the procedure. The numbers of dead and imprisoned. I watched all of them during the last months – I knew all of them. And I did not want to know. "Is it over?"

Part of the team widened at me, but Hank did not react. He nodded. So I left.

"Stay with her." He told Upton.

"Sarge, I don't think–" Kim said immediately.

"It's okay." Hailey cut her off. "I'm good."

"You're exhausted." Kim argued. "And so is O'Hara. It's–"

"Burgess." Hank deadpanned. "They both go, the rest of you will finish the inquest." The sargeant looked at all of them. "Now."

I think my mom was right. She said to me "You don't have to be a teacher. There's another way of helping people." She was a teacher herself, and I saw how hard it was. But I loved it – to teach, to guide. A teacher can change someone's life, and they have changed mine. So I wanted to do it too.

I still don't know how I ended up being a cop. She didn't approve of it either, nor did my dad.

What has changed?

What has changed since my mom's time?

She was never afraid of this. Her school was safe.

What has changed?

I didn't know what it was, but I recognized it. I felt it. It made me a cop and, yet, I didn't know how to stop it.

This time, however, somehow I did it. I stopped it.

Did I?

The kid was dead.

My student. My student was dead.

And there were so many others. There will continue to be, because of them — the ones I also taught. The bullys. No one could really blame them — they didn't shoot at anyone. But the pain in the boy's gaze started somehow. Somewhere.

So that was the way to stop it? To prevent kids from being stupid and committing mistakes?

Were they truly innocent kids?

The coldness of Chicago hit my face. I soon realized where I was: the streets were empty, but the neighborhood was familiar.

I had a house there. Not really me, but my cover did — the Mrs. Baker did. Some students also lived there. Right now, they were sitting in their living room, watching the news about the failed school shooting attempt. Watching about the casualties and how an anonymous tip saved the whole school.

Anonymous.

No one could know I did it. Besides the intelligence unit and some police officers, no one knew I was more than a teacher. Now I'm not even it. The cover was gone — the task was concluded.

My house would be empty by the weekend. My belongings — the teacher's belongings — would be given away.

I have no place to go.

The streets are still empty.

The question echoes in the air as I hear gasps and voices coming from the houses.

No one comes out. No one talks to anyone. The neighborhood remains frightened and lonely.

What has changed?

Hailey Upton rushed to the parking lot as soon Burgess stopped talking. In a blink of an eye, the barely moving undercover officer disappeared in the school hallways. There were cameras and journalists in the surroundings, and police men keeping them away. Some curious students and teachers were watching. Yet, O'Hara was nowhere to be found. This was usual since Hailey's and Ellie's academy days, but this time was different. This time Ellie was shaking and zoning out, totally detached from reality. Hailey had never seen her like that — therefore she didn't know what her long-date colleague was capable of.

She was supposed to be happy. Relieved, at least — but O'Hara looked more disturbed than ever.

Hailey arrived at the parking lot. Ellie's car was not there.

Ellie was not there.

"Upton!" A strong voice called from behind. "Hold on a bit."

Hailey turned back and saw Atwater approaching.

"I've got some news." He announced. "Her lead was right. There was a group." He smiled. "The police from neighboring towns already arrested the shooters."

"Any victims?"

"None. She might have saved hundreds of kids. O'Hara has to know it."

"Yes. I hope it will help her." Upton moved back. "Thank you, Atwater."

Has to know it. The phrase repeated inside Hailey's head. She has to, because she doesn't know it — the look in her eyes earlier, the way she glanced at the shooter. She was guilty.

And she would try to help until she succeeded.

Upton knew exactly where she was.

I didn't want to make a scene. I didn't want anyone to know. There were already a pair of detectives bringing up the news to her. Her kid was dead, and I heard her crying the moment she figured it out.

I wanted to step in. I wanted to go closer and say to her "I'm sorry." I am sorry.

No one else, no matter how tiny and close to each other the houses were, moved in the neighborhood. Part of it already knew: his face was already in the news. But no one walked outside. No one walked to her.

I did.

I used the open door and walked into the living room as I listened to the detectives speaking further into the house. Her sobs led me to a hallway. I stood there, between the two doors: in the left, the police men spoke and investigated his bedroom; in the right, her bedroom and screams, begging for her son. I stepped to the side, in her direction, and I was about to reach the hallway when my body froze again.

The coldness in the spine, the insensitive skin. Then, suddenly, the same hard grip that held me from the ground now held me again: the strong hands drove me away and out of the house, in complete silence. I could not fight it.

"Ellie." The voice spoke. "What are you doing? What are you thinking?"

"She--" I mumbled. "She needs a tissue." I stepped back to the house, but it held me again.

"No! You're done with this, you hear me?" I shook my head, trying to free myself. "You're done with it, Ellie, you can't get involved."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why am I done?"

Hailey stared straight at me, and forced me to do the same: her gaze was confused and intense, it looked for an explanation and logic.

"They are all safe. All the schools of the region. You did it, you saved them."

"I failed him."

"You stopped a school shouting." She argued back.

"He's dead." I sobbed. The cold spread over my face, my cheeks got soak because of the salty tears. "Why couldn't I stop him? Why did he do it?

"Ellie–"

"I can't--"

"Ellie!" She shook me. I could no longer feel her grip, no matter how tight it was: now, I felt a different type of pinch. It suppressed my lungs, and the words coming out my mouth were nothing more than shaky breaths.

I couldn't breathe.

"It doesn't matter. You have to breathe." I closed my eyes and retreated, but her hands kept me from moving away. There was warmth in my face. "You're losing your mind."

"Please!," I breathed out. "Please, Hailey, just tell me why."

"You're asking the wrong question" I could hear a weak laugh. "as always."

I sniffed and tilted in response.

"The right question is: how do we stop it?" I grunted, but she went on. "And you did it. You stopped it. That boy chose this and there was nothing you could possibly do."

"He was my student." I broke down: Hailey hugged me and held me up. "He was–"

"I know, I know." She whispered. "You did your best. They're good now. Please, calm down." I was shaking under her embrace. "Please, come back."

I cried out loud as the police kept arriving at the scene: at the shooter's house. Upton stopped me from getting involved, just like she has done so many times before – she drove me away from the neighborhood. She drove me to a place I have never been before.

I just understood where I was when my blurred eyes gazed at the empty kitchen and messy living room.

"Is that–"

"It's okay." Hailey cut me off and quickly gathered the blanket over the couch. "Jay's away. Army's mission."

"I didn't–" I shook my head and stepped back. "I shouldn't stay."

"It's okay." She kindly smiled at me. "That's why I'm here, remember?"

"To stop my trainwreck of thought?"

She laughed as I remembered her stupid phrase from our academy days.

And then she repeated:

"To stop your trainwreck of thought."

Author's note for @wordsandupstead , @poppadom0912 , @amsgrey: I just wanted to show this to somebody. I'm not sure if I will write about One Chicago again, but I needed to do this.

#hailey upton #hailey upton x original character #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #hank voight #kim burgess #kevin atwater #adam ruzek #jay halstead #school shooters #original character #tribute to police

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imyourliquor-youremypoison · 1 month

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Trainwreck (OC fiction) - Part 3

MASTERLIST

3.8 words

>>> Part 4

She couldn't recall how many times she read the poem, but at some point, Joyce could recite it by heart, knowing exactly where each and every commas were situated. The words echoed in her mind, as though her head was a cavern of which the smooth walls passed on the sound. It was always his voice she heard when her eyes darted over the same words over and over again.

Your voice and your steps fall as soft as dew on my day

of work.

Where I sit there is spring in the air around me from

your living warmth.

You blossom in my thoughts, you blossom in my blood,

and I only wonder,

that my happy hands do not burst out into heavy roses.[1]

Her palms grew sweaty, her heartbeat uneven and her mind blank. What was this supposed to mean? What was she supposed to understand? Jo could picture with extreme precision the little crooked smirk on Roman's face that would undoubtedly make an appearance if she turned up on his doorstep to demand an explanation for this.

Aside from the fact that she had no idea where the hell a Swedish prince lived, and – she glanced at her alarm clock – that it was 2:48 in the morning, she knew it was a bad idea. Sleep was apparently eluding her, and since she had no intention of sitting on her friend's couch and staring ahead of her the entire night (or the few remaining hours before she had to return to class) Jo grabbed her bag and pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. God, she was tired! That birthday party had consumed whatever energy she had left after a day of class. And yet here she was, pulling her hair back and quickly tying it into a ponytail so it would stay out of her face for once, preparing to write something back.

Jeez, she was actually pulling an all-nighter to write some lame poetry to her crush, what was she? Twelve? Even in middle school she’d known it was lame. But obviously she didn't mind making a fool out of herself at age twenty-three, when she was supposed to be an adult, who goes to university and pays taxes.

(Yeah, okay... she didn't really pay taxes since she still lived under her parents' roof.)

“Joyce?” A weak, sleepy voice called her name and Jo's head snapped up. “What are you doing? What time is it?”

“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” she whispered to her friend.

Jo managed to claim the couch while two other girls slept on a mattress on the floor. Tonight, the apartment was crowded, and it wasn't exactly the best of conditions to unleash one's inner Wordsworth.

The girl nodded absentmindedly and let her head fall back on her pillow, passing out right away. Jo cursed silently; she had to be quiet. With only the light of her phone to see what she was doing, she started scribbling down animatedly, as if she had no control over her own hand. She knew without a doubt that she wasn't capable of such skill as Roman proved he had mastered, and her poem wouldn't be as delicate and coherent – or even decent – but maybe she could pull off something shorter. A haiku maybe? No, too short. We'll see.

Joyce found that sleepovers at a friend's place became less and less enticing as she grew up and left childhood. Because looking like you haven't slept at all and still wearing yesterday's clothes wasn't as innocent as it used to be, and she couldn't simply go back home, instead she had to drag her tired limbs to class. Doing what looked like a walk of shame to her nine am class was not on her list of best moments.

Her bag was stuffed to the brim with scrunched up pieces of paper blackened with ink, and still, the bags under her eyes were darker. In the end, she slept no more than two hours and she didn't even like what she ended up writing, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. She had repeated the words to herself all night long, and the more she did it, the sillier it sounded. Roman was going to laugh at her poor attempt at poetry. But she was not going to back down from this: she had done her best and she would give him the damn poem even if it was the last thing she would do.

the universe took its time on you

crafted you precisely

so you could offer the world

something distinct from everyone else

so when you doubt

how you were created

you doubt an energy greater than us both[2]

It was not earth-shattering, but at least it had a clear message. She wasn’t good with rhymes. She sat through her first two classes of the day in a state of advanced anxiousness and couldn't stop her left foot from tapping impatiently on the floor, earning a few glares from her fellow students – which she ignored. Roman and her hadn't planned to meet up today, and she was aware that she would have to wait until later to see him, at the train station. For the first time ever, Jo experienced the reality of time's relativity. She did not like it.

As if to mock her, all of her teachers decided to be extra boring today, and her last class of the day lasted ten minutes longer than normal because the teacher absolutely wanted to finish the lesson today.

It was tired, disheveled, distraught and nervous that she eventually walked out of the class room, almost sprinting toward the bus in order to catch her train on time. Fortunately, she managed to do so and although she was panting, she was felt like the wheel had turned and no more bad things could possibly happen to her today. (It had to, right? She wouldn’t be able to bear any more bad luck, she was exhausted.)

“Damn käraste, you look like shit!”

Jo was immediately greeted by Roman's affectionate mockery as soon as she stepped through the automatic double door of the train station.

Standing there, with her bag hanging slightly off her shoulder, the collar of her coat uneven, her hair tangled beyond repair (she will have to cut it soon, it was getting out of control, and her hair stylist was going to cry upon seeing it), and she was positive that the little makeup she put on before leaving her friend's apartment did not help her look alive – so Roman was probably right.

“Love you too, asshole,” she grumbled with a little smile as she greeted Roman.

“I'm kidding of course, you look dashing as always,” he replied, not even trying to hide the smirk on his face. God, Joyce wanted to slap that smile off his handsome face. But then again, she'd rather just kiss it away. Man, she was screwed.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Gone was his teasing tone, replaced by worry.

“If you had had a day like mine, you would be crawling home instead of walking,” Jo laughed half-heartedly. She was too tired to play graceful and delicate.

“Anything I can do about it?”

“Unless you can give me back the sleep I didn’t get last night, I don’t think you can.”

Roman grabbed her bag and carried it for her – something she usually wouldn't let anyone do, but she knew that he simply had to be chivalrous because it was in his nature, and she was far too exhausted to protest. They walked together to the platform where their train was waiting, and Joyce proceeded to tell Roman about last night's party and today's misfortunes. He laughed at how dramatic she was being while sympathizing with her awful day.

Though Jo's day was considerably improved by Roman's obscenely gorgeous face and hair and smirk and... by Roman as a whole, yeah. Her one and only solace was that he was wearing gloves and she didn't have to deal with his long, slender fingers brushing against hers or her shoulder when he took her bag from her. Joyce cursed silently and urged herself to get her shit together. Geez, I need a serious shag, the sooner the better.

“Here?” Roman asked while gesturing to two vacant seats near the back of the wagon.

Joyce nodded and once she was slouched on the comfortable seat and surrounded by the warmth provided by the train's heating system, she felt her bones warm up and her muscles relax.

“Hey, I- I didn't want to ask at first,” Roman began sheepishly, looking embarrassed, “I was going to give you a few days but... have you read the poem I wrote you?”

She smiled a little, enjoying having him flustered for once, and not the other way around.

“I did,” she answered, not giving any sign of continuing the sentence. She watched his face light up and his eyes widen in expectation.

“And?” he prompted her to tell him more.

“What? Fishing for compliments?”

Even she was astonished at her own capacity to sound relaxed and untouched by the fact that the boy she liked wrote her a poem – a love poem. A little voice at the back of her head congratulated her for her performance and gave her a tap on the shoulder.

“Of course not,” he snorted, tearing his gaze away from hers and laying back against the back seat. He looked a tiny bit disappointed and offended.

“I'm just messing with you, Roman. It was beautiful, and I almost ripped all the hair off my head last night while trying to write something half as good,” she admitted, pulling the neatly folded piece of paper with the final draft of her stupid poem.

No, not stupid. Just not good.

“I thought you were at a party?” He frowned. “You wrote a poem at a party?”

She would never admit that she locked herself in the bathroom several times throughout the evening just to read his poem over and over again. Nor would she admit to not having slept a wink because she needed to put something to paper right then, and not when the sun rose the next morning. Some things are not meant to be done by daylight.

“I made the time,” she simply answered, electing to stay as vague as possible.

“Knowing you, I'm sure it's ten times better than mine. You're such a perfectionist it's borderline a psychosis – no offense by the way,” he joked and took the poem, shoving it in his pocket.

Joyce was relieved that he did not intend to read it now, because she didn't have the nerves to watch his reaction to her writing. Still, something in her stomach fluttered awake.

She shouldn’t have given on her poem on a Friday. She shouldn’t have. They didn’t see each other on the week-ends and she hadn’t wanted to be the first to reach out and seem too eager to have his opinion.

Needless to say, Jo spent most of her waking hours switching between dread and optimism.

She’d just given the world’s shittiest poem to the guy she liked.

She’d made an honorable effort returning his gesture even though it was outside her comfort zone.

She’d written the worst, most ridiculous, purple-prose none-sense in the history of poetry.

He would appreciate that she tried to speak his language.

She fucked it all up.

He could have lost it? Misplaced it? Maybe she could have another go at it? No, that was wishful thinking. She should have waited until Monday at least. That she could agree on. She’d been completely out of it all week-end, answering wrong when someone spoke to her, drifting off and getting lost in her thoughts all the time. She’d ran her fingers through her hair so many times that she’d made it greasy again and had to wash it a second time the same day.

Jo’s eyes reflexively darted to her phone whenever she thought she heard a notification ding. It wasn’t him. She didn’t hear anything from Roman at all until the moment they bumped into each other between two classes Monday afternoon.

“Ursäkta[3]! I’m already late, talk soon?” he shouted as he walked past her, in a hurry. She knew he had a class on the opposite side of campus on Monday afternoon.

After the first couple months talking to Roman, Jo had learned a few words of Swedish and she recognized the apology.

A little disappointed, Jo just gave a little smile and a thumbs up, waving him goodbye as she walked in the opposite direction, to the library. Guess she wouldn’t get any feedback on her writing skills today. Every passing hour made her regret the words she wrote a little more.

If she listened to herself, she would have tried to snatch it back from him, pretend it never existed. Roman smiled so wide when he saw her. Even with the cold wind whipping his face and tousling his hair, he looked impeccable. Too handsome to go to class. Everything about his was so deliberate. Try as she might, Joyce always looked like she’d just fallen out of bed.

Unable to not answer his grin, Jo let herself smile wider, and figured her poem couldn’t be bad enough to ruin whatever she had going on with Roman either way.

Was it?

The next day, Roman wasn’t waiting for her on the platform for the 9a.m train. Joyce frowned, worried. He had never missed his train so far, he was always early. There were no texts from him either, so she figured nothing serious had happened. Maybe he just spelt in? Or went early to finish an assignment?

It was odd, going back to sitting alone on a Tuesday morning in the train. She didn’t bring a book on Tuesday because Roman was usually there to chat with her. Something was quite right, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. It was just a funny feeling she had, there was no tangible proof of anything. Jo felt uneasy.

She pulled out her phone and began to type.

Missing you today

He was usually quick to answer, so she wasn’t surprised to get an answer within the minute. She expected to be teased mercilessly about missing him even though they saw each other almost every day on campus.

Already at uni.

Mmh. Weird. She didn’t push, despite wanting to know more. Now she was certain something was up. If she listened to herself, she would have asked why he was so early. She would have asked if something was wrong, because this wasn’t the normal tone of his texts. He flirted so hard that Joyce had all the trouble in the world not giggling when reading his messages. She had stopped reading them in class because her friends would absolutely bust her ass if she grinned like a maniac at her screen.

Coffee?

Came another text. At least, he still seemed to want to spend time with her. She had half an hour of free time before her first class on Tuesdays, he knew that. She messaged back a quick ‘OK’, matching his minimalist messages this morning.

Maybe he just woke up on the wrong foot? So far, he had seemed like a rather balanced and happy-go-lucky person, perhaps she simply hadn’t seen him on a bad day yet. She hoped that was it.

The train ride felt longer than when he was with her, but it finally reached her destination, and Jo couldn’t get out fast enough. She nearly ran towards the bus, squeezing in right before the doors closed. It would bring her right outside their usual coffee spot, within walking distance from campus.

Not even the perspective of getting a seasonal flavored goodness untied the knot in her stomach when she walked in, making the doorbell jingle. And there he was – her suspiciously elusive crush. She knew it was just nerves making her regret writing that poem, but seeing him now, having not spoken a word to him in three days – the longest since they met – she truly, genuinely regretted it.

Up until now, she’d been as excited to see him and talk about it as she was apprehensive. Now? She like nothing more than to turn back around, even if it was the chicken shit thing to do.

“Hi,” she said as she sat down next to him. Roman had pushed the chair back for her with his foot and greeted her with a timid smile. “Had breakfast yet?”

“Uhm, yeah. But order whatever you want, it’s my treat.”

He had already ordered her a coffee that was waiting for her on the able. She immediately cradled in between her freezing hands.

“You don’t have to,” Jo said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not even hungry.”

“I want to,” he countered. “Consider it an apology for not stopping to chat yesterday. I felt bad.”

This was… new. It felt formal, and Joyce realized she would wouldn’t be able to swallow anything even if she tried. She had been waiting for one thing, and one thing only: hearing what he thought about her poem so that she could stop obsessing over it and move on. She hadn’t eaten a proper meal since Friday.

There was a distance between them that wasn’t physical.

“Are you trying to make me die of anticipation?” She turned back to familiar things, teasing him, straight-forward questions, no awkward small talk. “I’ve been losing sleep over this stupid poem, you know? Just tell me how terrible it was, I can take it.”

Err… could she? She’d never write another word again and solely communicate through numbers and emojis but sure, she’d get over it.

“Terrible?” he exclaimed, a bit loudly, earning a few stares. At least she got something out of him that wasn’t this composed exterior.

“Really? ‘cause I feel like you’ve been avoiding talking to me since I gave it to you, and I figured it must have been so bad you didn’t know how to break it to me easy.” He laughed. “No, really. You look so solemn sitting here-“ she gestured vaguely at him. “-I half expect this to turn into an intervention about me never indulging in any kind of creative writing ever again.”

“Jo, if you stop talking and let me speak, I will gladly tell you what I thought about your poem,” Roman interjected when Joyce took a breath. “I wasn’t avoiding you, I swear. Just busy.”

This was a lazy excuse, but she’d take it. She would have taken any explanation over the worst-case scenario she had played out in her head.

“Don’t you want to order first?” he asked after a short silence.

“What? No!” she protested. “Actually, I’m sweating in here, what do you say we take this outside? It’s sunny today.”

“Whatever the lady wants,” Roman agreed, taking his coat and following her outside.

The second they left the stifling warmth of the coffee shop, their breath turned to into cloudy mist. Joyce had been right, the weather was beautiful today, bright and crisp.

“C’mon, just give it to me already.” She raised her hands and made a little ‘come at me’ gesture. “It’s OK if you didn’t like it, I know I’m not any goo-“

He cut her off before she could start rambling again about how utterly awful she was at writing anything more inspired than a grocery list.

“Jo, you need to stop putting yourself down like that, because what you wrote-“ he trailed off, looking upwards as if he couldn’t find the words.

She didn’t say a word, hanging by his lips. He shook his head.

“It was great. No, it was beautiful.”

“Don’t go easy on me now.” Jo rolled her eyes. “That can’t be true.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” he immediately countered. “Is that any way to speak to the person who pays for your breakfast?”

“You haven’t paid me breakfast because I haven’t ordered,” she pointed out, but got the point. He offered. “No, okay. I accept that it might not have been as bad as I feared. Please go on.” She mimicked to locked her mouth shut and throw away the key.

Roman bit his lip, and his distant air returned to him as he looked away from her and at the horizon. He seemed to fight to find the right words then, his open eye drifting to his feet, crunching some leftover snow from earlier this week.

“Do you know why I like poetry?” he asked, taking her by surprise.

Joyce shook her head.

“It says things you can’t convey in normal conversations. It taps into feelings that aren’t easily expressed in any other form of communication.” He glanced back up at her but she didn’t say a word, waiting for him to finish. “What you wrote…” he drifted off again, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t deserv-“

“There you are!” An unfamiliar voice exclaimed, cutting Roman off mid-sentence. A tall, stunning blond girl swooped right in-between them, completely ignoring Joyce’s presence, and wrapped an arm around Roman’s neck, promptly pulling him in and slamming their mouths together.

The interruption was so abrupt, so unexpected, Joyce could do nothing but stare in shock.

If Jo had been in any state to react, she would have been outraged at being so blatantly ignored – well, not completely ignored since this little display was obviously for her sake. That was a girl marking her territory if she ever saw one. And she did. Just never from so close.

No, Jo was not in any way, shape or form in a state to react. In fact, she was struck deaf and dumb. She didn’t hear what the blond said when she broke her open-mouthed kiss with Roman. Jo didn’t process any of the words exchanged from then on, she only tried to acknowledge what was unfolding in front of her eyes. The added two and two together and never in her life had she loathed being good at math.

Her head was a storm of raging thoughts, her hands became clammy, her temple throbbed painfully, and her eyes prickled. She would not cry, she would not embarrass herself further in front of her, in front of him… God, she’d been blind. He was the one with a single open eye, but she was blind.

The noise in her head screeched to a sudden halt as the pretty girl turned around and eyed her up and down, as if assessing competition. There was no competition, Joyce wasn’t even in the same category, and she wouldn’t make a fool of herself again.

Joyce couldn’t even bring herself to look at Roman’s face, to see his reaction. She hoped he was livid. She hoped he was mortified, even if he couldn’t be half as much as her. Just when she was about to take her leave, the blond spoke up.

“Who is this, Roman?”

[1]This is the first stanza of Swedish author Karin Boye's poem « Idyll ». Translation to English by Jenny Nunn.

[2]Rupi Kaur

[3] ‘Sorry’ in Swedish

#writing is hard #alyssa talks #bill skarsgård

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rick-rayson · 2 years

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Of Love and Clay | (I. Rasputin x Reader)

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A/N: Here's part two for "Of Blood and Porcelain." featuring a time before part one.

HI YEAH I KNOW- IT'S BEEN HALF A YEAR. I'M NOT EXPLAINING MYSELF.

WARNING(S): Minor violence, cussing, toxic behavior.

As stated before in my previous post, this is simply a "what if," and "what would happen if" scenario. So do expect OOC behavior.

TAG(S): Angst/Hurt/Comfort.

USER TAG(S) (If you'd like to be tagged in any of my future posts, simply ask :)): @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

Not proof read

Part 1

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Ever since you and Illyana had became an item, that's when the treatment became worse.

"They are the weirdest thing that's come to this hospital." Illyana's lips pursed with distate, her nose scrunched when she'd caught your figure shaking with what she could only assume was childish glee.

You, so enraptured in your own world, didn't quite care for the unwanted attention you were being served. Your lips tilted upwards in delight of your own creation, how lovely it was that you almost wanted to show everyone. Almost.

Out came a defensive, yet gentle voice, harbored by a boy with an awkward stature and tired eyes that rivaled a rotting corpse.

"They haven't done anything bad, I don't get why you hate them so much." Sam Guthrie, not much was notable about this boy, only that he was locked up in this prison you lot had to call home, and that he was a mutant, much like the rest of you.

"Can't you see it?" Illyana grimaced as her glare drank in your features like a forbidden elixir. Your smile, your bashful demeanor when you presented your creations to one of your comrades, Dani. "They're Reyes' favorite little dollface."

"I think you're the only one that calls them that, but alright." Sam exhaled to fight back the death stare Illyana had thrown at him before she went back to looking at you.

He could see it. She knew he could, and she hated it. Sam could see the green kissing at Illyana's eyes. He wished mercy upon anyone who made it glow greener.

Illyana had bet that you didn't notice the splotches on your clothes, your arms. Your cheek. Something about that made her face contort in annoyance.

"Hey, I've always wondered," said Dani Moonstar, one of of the only people that made you feel like you could slouch beside without any cruel judgement. "What is your ability?"

"I'll tell you but it's a secret," you made your way to Dani's ear and whispered one of the biggest mysteries in the hospital you all resided in.

Illyana peered from afar with feelings unknown brewing in her stomach as Dani's eyes grew in wonder. It was Dani's echoing gasp that had Illyana dreaming of her demise. With balled fists Illyana sauntered up to the two of you, bearing a smile so fake it was comparable to the doll in your hand.

Correction, the doll that was in your hand. Illyana snatched it without a single care for the gasp that had slipped past your lips.

"Give that back, Illyana." You shifted as if to dig yourself further into the couch at the sight of Illyana's figure, that which crept closer at a hauntingly slow pace.

"Why?" Illyana chuckled under false resolve, "it's just a shit little doll anyway. Wouldn't take much to break it."

"It doesn't matter, they told you to put it down." Dani, who noticed your discomfort long before you'd even moved, placed a hand on your shoulder to ease you.

"Are you really going to let the trainwreck stand up for you?" Illyana moved her face terribly close to yours, so much so that you felt as though you couldn't breathe.

"I remember when you weren't nearly as much of a coward as you are now." She huffed, "what a resounding disappointment."

"Fuck off." Your eyes stayed glued to Illyana's gaze.

"Yes," she leapt back, a cheeky grin playing at her lips. Accent thick, and growing in excitement. "You'd like that wouldn't you?"

Illyana faced away from you for a moment, such an oddity the action was that you found your head tilted in confusion.

"If only you knew," your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when Illyana threw the doll to the floor. Your perception of time appeared to have slowed as you watched in horror.

"how much I love pissing you off."

Crack. The doll was in pieces. And in that moment you could sense the life of the toy dissipate. As Illyana stomped on it with a crooked smile, what once was a solid creature quickly turned to mush under the seperation of your abilities.

"Oh shit!" Chuckled Illyana, kicking off the excess on her shoes. "Didn't expect that—"

What she also didn't expect, was for you to shove her to the floor, she'd fallen back on her behind. A low grunt brushing past her teeth.

"Oh shit- Doctor!" Dani rushed out of the room with a panicked expression. Leaving just the two of you alone for the moment.

Illyana wiped her face and forced a grin, "you want me so bad, don't you?" She licked her lips. A new found confidence glistening in her eyes, "I can tell."

"I hate you, Rasputin." You held your guard up. And yet, she could see right through that half-hearted facade. "These games, I'm sick of them."

"They're necessary." Illyana replied, sitting on one knee. Tone surprisingly calm and tender, her eyes engulfed you as if you were the only person in the universe. "My Love. They're so, so necessary."

"Why?"

"You'll understand," Illyana winked, "it's not all bad."

The sound of footsteps soon approached. In seeing your gaze shift from her to your new company, Illyana took it as an opportunity to fake up a grin.

"Illyana," Cecilia Reyes, the doctor of Milsbury, sheathed a sharp glare at the blonde sword bearer in front of you. "Because of your outlandish behaviour, this is another hour added onto our sessions."

"Oh and I bet Trainwreck here didn't tell you that they pushed me." Illyana fumed. It almost awed you how good she was at being fake.

"The walls have eyes, Illyana." Cecilia murmured with a fixed expression, the look of bewilderment that once painted her features long forgotten.

Illyana was aware, so painfully aware of how true Cecilia's statement was. The countless nights where she was tempted to envelope her lips with yours and drown out the morbidity of her living situation. The nightmares that clawed at the back of her mind, they seized when she was with you.

"Don't I know it." Illyana spared a glare towards you before leaving without even a trace of another word from her lips. Dont I know it.

The day had yet to meet its end and yet you could very well assume it did due to the deafening silence that loomed through the building of the Milsbury hospital. A devilish temptation brewed within the hospitals inhabitants to break that silence. Especially that of Illyana.

"Did you have to break the doll?" You traced your fingers delicately over your newest creation, which took the form of a clay figure, its form reminiscent of a jeweled royal.

"It was tacky anyway." Illyana attempted to jest as she took calculated steps towards you, the act, as Illyana imagined it to be— was similar to a cat readying itself to pounce on an unsuspecting bird. The unsettling implications aside, such a comparison brought a smile to her lips.

"Doesn't matter I needed them for my powers." Your tongue pushed out your cheek from the inside, brows contorted. Your eyes never left the focal point of which it had drawn onto Illyana's figure. A sense of weariness felt and shown from the way your back took purchase to the cold wall behind you.

"See this is your problem." A whine halted in Illyana's throat as she sauntered up to you and took to sitting uncomfortably close. "Just pay attention to me.. just for a bit."

Your knees forced themselves to hug your chest as a means of hiding away, an action that you hadn't caught, Illyana's eyes flickered at the movement.

"I'll be nicer.. but you do know why I do this, don't you?..." Without another beat she copied your body language, knees snug to her chest, hands hung loosely over them, even the way she began fiddling with her fingers seemed to reflect you.

The one thing she couldn't copy however, was the pounding of your anxious heart.

"If Reyes finds out we're in love, she'll take you from me." Her forehead gently met yours in a tenderness you'd almost forgot she possessed. "I can't have that, I cannot lose you."

Silence reared its head and made small effort in soothing your quickened heartbeat.

"Fine, I get it— I do," You laced your fingers with Illyana's. Not missing the way her cheeks radiated a warmth once absent,

And also the way her eyes stared down at your lips.

"You really want to make it up to me?" A hint of a spark found home in the galaxy of Illyana's eyes.

"Yes."

"and you really want my attention?"

"More than anything." Illyana's eyes closed under the temptation of her lips finally meeting yours. But you weren't about to make it that easy for her.

"Then roll your sleeves up and help me fix my doll." You swayed to the side, Illyana accidentally kissed your throat, and the spark that had resided in her died down.

A smile took its place. "You're going to make me work for it, Love?"

"Damn right."

#illyana rasputin x y/n #illyana rasputin x you #illyana rasputin x reader #illyana rasputin #new mutants #new mutants x reader #xmen x you #xmen x reader #xmen imagines

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 8*

Chapter 7

Chapter 9

I know, I wait almost 4 days and now you gotta go through this bullshit. I can already hear your cries of anguish and suffering.

I love it so much. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

That being said I promise regular chapters for the rest of the week! Okay I don't promise but I promise to do my best.

Note: Alright it's a fanfic people, alternate universes and all that. So you know what we're saying that all the Carisi sisters are younger, and Sonny was the big bro. Kay? I can't deal with all the continuity stuff.

Tag List

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@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

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@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

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Sonny was watching TV with Amanda when his phone went off. He paused the movie and answered the phone:

“Barba it’s kinda late--”

“What's wrong with your cousin?” he flatly said.

“Excuse me?” Sonny asked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer the question, Carisi,” Barba insisted.

“Well it's a loaded question, Barba.” Sonny replied.

“Okay then just answer me this,” Barba sighed. “Why did I come back to my apartment to find her halfway through my once full bottle of vodka and pouting on the couch. Oh, after she had gone through all of my things of course,”

“Aw shit,” Sonny muttered under his breath. “That's kind of on me, Barba,”

“One second babe,” He muttered to Amanda, while he got up and went into his kitchen.

“Babe?” Barba asked.

“It’s just Rollins,” Sonny dismissed it.

“So you have feelings for me, but you’re fucking Rollins?” He asked in a snarky tone.

“What, are you jealous or somethin’ Barba?” Sonny smirked.

“No, don’t be stupid,” Rafael rolled his eyes. “Why is it on you?” He changed the subject.

“I should have never filled her head with doubts and suspicions and then sent her back to your place; when I should have known that you would keep a full bar in your apartment,” Sonny sighed as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Well of course I would keep a stocked bar in my apartment Sonny, I entertain people and I'm a grown man,” Rafael scoffed.

“Yeah, again it's on me,” Sonny repeated.

“Okay so what is wrong with your cousin?” Rafael asked.

“I think that pretty much answers it, don't you think?” Sonny asked in a “duh” tone.

“... I see,” Rafael glanced at his bedroom door wearily.

“Where is she now? Did you send her away? Please tell me you didn't send her away,” Sonny begged.

“No I didn't send her away, she's sleeping it off in my bedroom,” He got up and walked to his bedroom door. “I didn't want to just kick her out because she was upset. I'm not that big of a dick,” He whispered as he watched you sleep. You looked so calm and peaceful, that’s the girl he remembered.

“ You know, this should probably be better explained in person,” Sonny walked back into his living room where Amanda glanced over at him. He motioned for her to get her stuff together.

“Can I come over?”

“Yeah okay, not like I have anything else to do,'' he rolled his eyes as he shut his bedroom door and walked back to his living room.

--------------.

Sonny showed up to Rafael's apartment with a loaded head and a semi heavy conscience. He knocked on the door and Rafael let him inside.

“Okay so what kind of long story is this,” Rafael asked while he poured himself a glass of scotch. He noticed Sonny giving him a weird look.

“What? It's not like she's in here now,” he rolled his eyes.

“True,” He nodded. “Do you have beer?”

“Yes, dark or light?” Rafael made a disgusted face while he asked. He couldn't stand the taste of beer but he always had it on him just in case he had barbarians over such as Sonny.

“Shiner Bock, if you have it,” Sonny requested. Rafael nodded as he went into his ‘party fridge’ and handed him one before sitting on the couch across from him.

“Alright so where do I start?” Sonny thought out loud.

“Well I guess first of all I wanted to say I don’t wanna say I told you so, but this is exactly why I didn't want you and Y/N to get involved in the first place. It had nothing to do with my feelings for you. It’s because I know that you tend to keep relationships with guys and girls chill and casual, but Y/N is a special case and special to me,”

“Yeah.. I wish you had expressed that before,” Rafael groaned.

Well what was I supposed to say in front of her, Barba? ‘Oh hey by the way, you probably shouldn't get involved with my trainwreck of a cousin? Sonny asked defensively.

“Maybe? I don’t know…” Rafael sighed as he put his head in his hands.

“Look, Rafael,” Sonny put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not like she’s some kinda degenerate junkie,”

“Oh well, that’s great--” He started to roll his eyes.

“I’m serious Rafael!” He pounded the table.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry Sonny,” He finally used his first name, trying to be as soft with him as possible. He could see how much you meant to him, and it was really endearing. “Go ahead,”

“Alright,” Sonny sighed, ready to tell your life story. You would probably kill him later for it, but there was no hiding your...issues now, he might as well get the whole context.

“Well, first of all-- her dad died before she was born, overdose,” He began. “Then she was stuck with her junkie mother, my auntie. Who by the way at this point, nobody had heard from in years,” He took a sip of beer.

“So anyways,” He began again. “One day, she showed up at my mom’s doorstep with Y/N, and told her that she can’t take care of Y/N, or that she didn’t want to,” He sighed. “She was three years old by then, I don’t even wanna think about what happened before then,”

“Jesus…” Rafael muttered.

“I was eight years old at the time, my sisters were even younger. My mom and dad had enough on their plate with just us. So, I kinda took her under my wing,” He went on.

“We became so close, she wanted to go by “Sunny” just so she could be like me. I told her it would be confusing for the two of us, so I called her Sunshine, Sunny for short. That way if I’m calling her sunny, then obviously it’s not myself,” He chuckled. To this day, he still called you Sunshine.

“But as she grew up, she just...kinda had a rough go. She didn’t really interact with kids her own age, she was really defensive and untrusting with anybody but me. Not even my parents. And then we got the call that her mother died, and it ripped me up inside to see her body at the funeral. It was so fucked up, she was so fucked up. That’s why I-- I think something really bad happened to her when she was with her mother, Rafael. Like-- really, bad.

“Fuck..." Rafael muttered while glancing at his bedroom door. He didn't want to imagine what you had been through at such a young age. He wanted to run in his room right now and just hold you, but he kept his composure.

“So then I went off to college when she was ten years old, just about to start junior high. She begged me to stay, but I told her she had a good family and that my parents and sisters loved her as much as I did, and to stay out of trouble. But...kids are cruel. They made her harder, and harder. Without me there to be her-- I dunno, her guiding light or her-- protector, she just kinda fell into a bad crowd by the time high school rolled around,” He sighed while taking another swig of beer.

“...Right,” Rafael nodded.

“So when i came home from school my mom told me she was going to kick Sunny out. I asked her why, and she went on and on about how she had gotten in with these local girls who were like, I dunno some kinda girl gang, and they’d knock over liquor stores and then get drunk and stoned. She said she was never around anyway, unless it was to steal money out of her purse; And she just didn’t wanna deal with her anymore,”

“...But she was only fifteen at the time,” Rafael was stunned.

“Yeah, and that’s what I told her!” Sonny exclaimed. “Look Barba my mom is the salt of the earth, but like I said she had a lot on her plate and my dad wasn’t around a lot-- and she had three other daughters to watch out for,”

“Three of her OWN daughters,” Rafael clarified with a judgmental tone.

“HEY,” Sonny warned. “I know how it sounds. And maybe-- maybe you’re right, maybe that’s why she washed her hands clean of Sunny. Because she was just a by-product of her fucked up sister. But I-- I’m not gonna condemn her for it. And you sure as hell don’t get to judge her,”

“You’re right,” Rafael nodded while sipping his scotch.

“So I took Sunny in,” Sonny finished his beer as he wrapped up his story. “I took her in while I went through the police academy. I made sure she got sober, quit hangin’ out with those girls, I got her to do well in school, hell I got her to graduate high school!”

“And…?” Rafael pressed.

“...And when I started bouncing around precincts, she was finally a productive member of society so she started living on her own. She had a few jobs, but never really going anywhere. So once I got placed here in SVU and started making better money, I started helping her out with rent and her car, as long as she promised to start going to community college. Which she agreed to because she really does wanna make something of herself,” He half smiled thinking about how far you had come and how proud he was to call you his cousin now. You were so full of life with dreams and ambitions he never saw in you as a scared little kid.

“Okay so-- how does all of this lead to what happened tonight?” Rafael leaned back and crossed his arms.

“Because she’s still an addict, Barba!” Sonny tried not to yell, but didn’t understand why Rafael was still so flippant about you.

“Just because she got her life together-- I got her life together, doesn’t mean that she just got ‘better’. She’s on a daily see-saw of sobriety. I do weekly ‘drop ins’ just to check on her. It’s gotten a lot better as time goes on, and the less and less I worry about her, but--” He took a breath and looked at the floor.

“....Deep down she’s still that little girl with all of her walls and her distrust. She doesn’t have friends, I really don’t think she’s ever had a stable ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend,’ I mean she-- she doesn’t, talk to people,” He paused before looking up and into Rafael’s eyes.

“...Which is why it has been yankin' my chain tryin’ to figure out just why in God’s name she was so-- open, to you,” He finally admitted. “She’s never been that close to anybody else but me, not in her entire life,”

“Wait,” Rafael put a finger up. “So...you haven’t actually been jealous of Y/N this whole time, you’ve been jealous of me?” He half laughed.

“I mean, it’s a little of both,” He shrugged with a small smile, able to joke about his feelings now. “But I meant what I said when I first got here, I know the main thing that Y/N needs in her life right now is stability. And you-- you are not stable, in the least,”

“Oh I’m the unstable one?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“Relationship wise, yeah,” Sonny pointed out.

“....Fair point,” Rafael nodded as he finished off his scotch. He knew the longest relationship he had ever had was with the cute barista he saw every morning who knew how to make his coffee just right. And that relationship only took him five minutes a day to maintain.

“So…” Sonny knocked Rafael from his thoughts.

“So...what?” Rafael quirked an eyebrow.

“So, I think that--” Sonny took a deep breath, knowing you might hate him for this. But it was for the best, and it needed to be said.

“I think that if you care anything about her, or me for that matter, that you let me take her home, and forget about this whole weekend,”

“....I mean…” Rafael rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't want to let you go. Well, he didn't want to let go of the girl he had met at Forlini's. The girl who made him laugh, who he could be his true self around, the girl he might---

“Look the bottom line here Barba is that Y/N is-- a lot of work. I should know, I’ve been taking care of her for 19 years. But I don’t mind it, because I love her more than anything else in this world. Well, her and the rest of my family. But still-- I love her,” Sonny now stood up.

“And I get that you like her, but she--- she has gotten way too serious about you way too fast, and way too hard. And this?” He gestured around the room, referring to the whole night. “This ain’t even the tip of the iceberg with her, if she’s really fallen off the wagon,”

“...God dammit,” Rafael stood up and began to pace in his living room. He thought about every single second he had spent with you since he met you; you had never seemed so...broken, as Sonny was describing you.

“What I’m saying is, unless you’re ready to-- ‘deal’ with her, and everything that comes with that, please for the love of God, just walk away now,” Sonny pleaded.

“Because she won’t listen to me if I tell her to stay away from you. And if things get too ‘real’ for you, you’re just gonna freak out or-- or get bored, and throw her away. Her self worth will drop to shit. And if that happens, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get her back from that,”

“I would never just throw her away, Carisi,” Rafael rolled his eyes.

“You can’t say that, Barba,” Sonny debated.

“And why the hell not?” Rafael narrowed his eyes.

“Because you’ve never NOT just ‘thrown away’ someone,” He chuckled. “That front door might as well be a garbage chute,”

“You son of a--” Rafael started to yell at him but Sonny cut him off.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Barba. Look me in the eyes and tell me I have no idea what I’m talking about, and I’ll leave here and let you deal with her the way you want to,” Sonny looked at him pensively. Rafael looked at him for several seconds, then softened his glare into a sad concession.

“....Take her,” He muttered softly while looking at the ground.

“Thank you,” Sonny mumbled softly as he turned to go retrieve your passed out self from the bedroom. However, he was instead met with the most unsettling sight:

You were standing in the doorway of the room, glaring at the two of them.

“...H-Hey, Sunshine--” Sonny tried to appease you with an awkward smile.

“Don’t,” You growled, stomping into the living room and began packing your bag.

“Y/N, what are you--” Rafael went to put a hand on your bag but you snatched it away before you shot fire out of your eyes into his gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I misunderstand what you just said?” You barked at him with tears in your eyes. “Because I’m pretty damn sure I heard ‘take her’. You know like I’m some sort of defective Amazon package,”

“That’s not what I meant---” He softly spoke, the guilt of his words being heard by you was quickly eating him alive.

“No I know what you meant, Rafael,” You zipped your duffel shut angrily.

“I heard the whole god damn spiel. Which, by the way, thank you so much for detailing my entire little sob story, cousin,” You glared at Sonny as you started walking towards the front door, shoulder checking him.

“But neither of you have to worry about anything anymore, okay? You’re released from your ‘duties’. This trainwreck is leaving the station, so you can relax,” You looked at the both of them with pain in your eyes, tears cracking your words.

“Sunshine--” Sonny started after you.

“DON’T,” You glared at him while putting a finger up. “Don’t ever call me that again,”

“At least let me drive you home--”

“No,” You shook your head. “And you know what, cuz? I didn’t realize I was such a financial burden, so you know what? Cut me off. Because I’d rather be homeless again than take any more money from you,”

“What did I do?!” Sonny was now angry. “All I did was come over and try to protect you, that’s it!”

“I don’t need your protection!” You screamed. “This whole time...this whole time, I thought you were proud of me. That you trusted me,”

“I do trust you--”

“You don’t!” You stomped your foot while tears streamed down your face. “Y-You think that if . one single thing like a boy not liking me is gonna set me off, like I’m some kind of bomb you’ve kept from detonating for years. My life is not your responsibility anymore, Sonny! I don’t think it ever was!”

“Well who’s else was it gonna be?!”

“NOBODY’S!!!!” You finally dropped your duffel bag and kicked the wall, leaning your head against it. You were strangely quiet for a long pause before you spoke again in an eerily calm voice.

“...Do you know why my mother “dropped me off’ with your mother?”

“Because she couldn’t take care of you--”

“No I heard what you said,” You sniffled with a sad smile. “Because she didn’t want to,”

“Sunshine--”

“But leaving me with your mother, was her plan b,” You cut him off, still looking at the floor.

“What do you mean?” Sonny asked cautiously while looking at Rafael who had a terrified look in his eyes.

“She didn’t want to ‘burden’ her sister with me, but she had to when I wouldn’t die,”

“...W-What?” Rafael almost choked on the words in disbelief.

“She tried to smother me with a pillow, but I wouldn’t die. I kept screaming and crying, and I guess it touched her strand of humanity, so she stopped,” You rolled your eyes with the same sad smile.

That memory was forever imprinted in your brain. The terror of being woken up in blackness, unable to breathe. The smell of the cigarette smoke covered pillow being shoved into your throat and nostrils. Your mother crying and telling you it would be over soon, just to let go. And finally her sad, pathetic whimpers and sobs when she finally lifted the pillow from you, disappointed in herself that she couldn’t do one good thing in her life. That now she was going to have to pass you, her problem, onto her sister.

“Y/N, baby girl--” Sonny stepped towards you again.

“I wasn’t supposed to be raised by anybody, Sonny. I’m not even supposed to be alive!” You stomped your foot again while tears continued to flow.

“That’s not true!” He ran over and grabbed you in a hug. “You are not a burden,”

“Really?” You laughed sarcastically into his shoulder as you pushed him away from the hug. “You just said your mom didn’t even want to deal with me. Nobody did,”

“I did!” He argued. “I do,”

“Yeah well, maybe I’m my mother’s daughter. I don’t wanna be your burden,” You picked up the duffel and opened the door.

“Okay well you have no choice in that so you’re gonna have to let that go,” Sonny grabbed your hand before you could walk away.

“Fine,” You finally conceded with a blank expression.

“Guess I’ll just have to let a lot of things go, won’t I?” Your voice cracked as you looked at Rafael one more time with the saddest eyes.

He stared back at you with a stone cold face. He wanted so badly just to go and hold you in his arms, telling you how you didn’t deserve any of what happened to you, and that you deserved everything good and all the love in the world. But Sonny’s pleas were still in his head.

He didn’t know if he wanted the responsibility of your entire self worth and happiness, let alone your sobriety on his shoulders. He didn’t even like to get close to clients with that many issues, the pressure was too much. So instead he just stood there, trying not to show how much this was killing him, sending you away like this.

“Come on Sunshine, just-- let’s go, okay?” Sonny pleaded with you softly, pulling at your hand. You didn’t answer, you just nodded and started walking down the hallway towards the elevator, leaving Sonny at the door.

“...Thank you, Barba,” He mumbled softly, nodding at Rafael. Rafael barely nodded back before Sonny closed the door.

As soon as it was closed, Rafael dropped on his knees and began to cry. He didn’t know why exactly, was he crying because he felt horrible for all the shit you had gone through? Was he angry at himself for not being able to get over his own bullshit to actually open up and care about someone for more than a week? Was he really that big of a hypocrite, showing empathy to clients all the time but shutting out the one person he felt he might-- he couldn’t even think it. He wouldn’t let himself think it. He just composed himself and poured another scotch while turning on the TV, trying to forget what just happened.

His NETFLIX menu popped up; it asked him if he wanted to continue watching Bojack Horseman. He closed his eyes and muttered obscenities in spanish while memories of the night before flooded his brain, making him cry angry tears once more. He finally decided just to go to bed, maybe his brain would release him from torture if he could turn it off.

He wasn’t sure he could ever turn it off now.

#rafael barba #rafael barba angst #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #law and order svu fanfiction #svu fanfiction #sonny carisi #weird secret friends #rafael barba imagine

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rainbowrider1290 · 3 years

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Expanded for my circus AU! Xiao and Venti backstory below the cut!

I think Xiao would've started as part of a rhythmic gymnastics team with the other yakshas. Things Go Down and the yakshas split up. Xiao's always been a part of this whole that they had, so Zhongli encourages him to go solo, which he does. His performances are technically flawless. He'll pull off moves no one else dares to attempt as a gymnast. But like. He doesn't care about it. Doesn't care for much of anything anymore.

On the other end, Venti retired early from performing. His nameless bard friend died and never really coped with it properly, so there was one performance he wasn't really focused on due to this weighing on him and Things Go Wrong. Thus, Venti is injured and retires. He recovers from the injury but fell into this hole where he feels like he doesn't deserve to get back up there and be happy and successful while his friend is dead and he (to himself) messed up so terribly.

Enter Aether and Lumine.

Aether sees how Xiao's face immediately drops when he finishes a performance, how his injuries are... not untended but he definitely rests for less time than he's supposed to and the strain on his muscles and joints is now chronic pain. He communicates this to Lumine.

Lumine knows of Venti from the time she and Aether spent apart and one of the circuses she was at did a couple clinics with him. She's witnessed his performances and knows about why he retired. She finds him with a bottle in his hand and despair on his face outside of the theatre they're performing at one night. He'd come to see a show bc he missed the whole scene and couldn't stay away.

They end up having a talk and Lumine gets an idea. She tells him that they have a performer who's lost the passion and maybe he can say something to inspire them. As a mentor.

Venti's hesitant about it but ends up agreeing after telling her that he has no intention of coming out of retirement. Maybe it'll make him feel useful.

So she takes Venti backstage, Aether whispers an "is that who I think it is" and so they find Xiao.

The conversation is... a trainwreck to say the least. Venti's all fake smiles and empty words about flowery passion and Xiao sees straight through it so he shows no sign of interest in the conversation, which ends with Xiao leaving with a half-assed comment on having to go stretch and cool down.

Lumine had a feeling it'd go down like this, but wanted to try anyway. Aether subtly slips into their farewell conversation that the twins work late today so the rehearsal space will be open until super duper late.

So Venti leaves with plans to go to a bar and wander until someone kicks him out, but before he leaves, curiosity gets the better of him. He goes to the rehearsal space just to see what he's been missing out on and maybe breathe in the worn ropes again. He gets there and What A Coincidence! Some aerial silks are set up. Warm-ups for other gymnast-type performers or the like.

Even through the blur of the tears he finds himself in front of the silks, sobered up a little by now.

With one quick peek around and probs zero regard for his safety, he gets on and performs one of his routines. The movements are still ingrained into his muscles and carved into his bones. He feels his heart start to beat again. Like this is the first time he's breathed in years.

He finishes the performance and the colours around him start to dim again. He breaks down crying and What A Day For Coincidences This Is!! Xiao caught the back half of his performance, and for a moment he forgot about everything weighing him down. For those few minutes, the pain in his muscles became a dull ache, his joints felt good as new, and he felt like he'd soar were his feet to leave the ground in that instant. Like someone injected purpose into his veins again. At the breakdown he understood that this was someone like him. Someone who was being cut apart by the jagged pieces of an identity in disarray.

So Xiao comes out once Venti's calmed down and they have a heart to heart along the lines of "it hurts doesn't it?" And they talk about feeling like something that was once like breathing feels unreachable now and lost purposes.

Venti ends up suggesting that Xiao try aerial performance, thinking that he may be past his prime but that maybe he can help someone fly again.

Xiao agrees but only after a lot of pushing, and still dazed from feeling that sense of purpose again.

They end up spending all night in that rehearsal space and by the time the sun's coming up, Aether and Lumine are in there watching them cooperate and exchange a little high-five.

Venti joins the circus exclusively as Xiao's coach. He makes Xiao stretch more and forces him to take care of himself (insert team bonding shenanigans here to get him away from the workplace) but there's still something missing in his performances. His technique in anything Venti choreographs for him is as flawless as it can be at his level, and the transitions are smooth and tasteful, but there's still something lacklustre.

It's that trust in someone else. As antisocial as he may be, Xiao was cultivated in a team setting, so Venti suggests that he keep training with the silks (which he's picking up surprisingly fast bc it's Xiao) as he gets back into shape. Xiao notices this and helps him without knowing what Venti has planned. By "help" I mean throw a bucket of water on him at 6am like "rise and shine we're going on a run".

After a while of this, Venti has a team exercise in mind. They choreograph a routine and perform it together. Something about strengthening your own skills in trusting someone else. By then Xiao's proficient, and Venti is back in shape.

When they perform their routine, it's rusty, uncoordinated, and needs a lot of polishing, but Xiao's smiling and Venti can't hold the giggle that escapes him.

Venti calls Aether and Lumine over to see Xiao's progress with his other solo routine (which is now a lot better than before), Venti offhandedly mentions that they've been doing practice pair routines and it's really helped his energy and why are you two looking at me like that.

The twins are curious about the training exercise, obviously only to make sure they're safe and they aren't straining the silks too much (Venti assures them they aren't bc he would know) and to see if they can apply this method to some of their other solo performers.

Before Xiao and Venti know it, they're being told to polish the routine bc next show they're opening with that.

They're terrified and convince them to at least hold off bc there's so much to polish (and to emotionally prepare themselves), but overall they come to the agreement that they don't mind the arrangement.

At which point the two realize that Aether and Lumine's names may as well have been Coincidence 1 and Coincidence 2 from the very first night.

They help each other process their respective traumas. Xiao helps Venti on those days he feels like he can't process the day without alcohol, and Venti drags Xiao out of the rehearsal space on the days he feels cripplingly alone, and slowly, they become part of something amazing.

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beautiful-in-bloom · 3 years

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Dear Diary Nov 9 2021

At the beginning of this year, I looked my best friend in the face and I told him that even though I wasn't sure when or how, that I knew with all my heart that one day it would be us... That we would be together, and the world would be right for it. I don't think my soul had been as content as it was for that short period I stayed with him. When I came back home, so much of me broke. I haunted the halls and rooms of my own house like a ghost, as if I had died such an abrupt and sudden death that I hadn't quite realized that I was dead. Eventually I had to tell him that I couldn't be with him, that I had to put effort into my rotting relationship. It wasn't because I didn't want to be with him, but because I loved him too much to ask him to wait for me. Since I met him, I have known. I knew that I loved him and I knew that I would never stop loving him. But when we met, I wasn't emotionally ready to be with him. And the next few years became evidence of that. What I told him, that I saw us together in the end, I meant that from my soul. I knew walking away from him romantically was a risk. He's such an amazing person with such a good fucking heart and I knew, though I didn't want to think about it, that someone out there was going to love him before I could come back and tell him how much I truly wanted him. Maybe it was how deep my love ran, maybe it was me assuming he wouldn't wait any more, maybe maybe maybe. But I couldn't ask him to wait on me for a moment longer. He deserved love as calm and as gentle as a summer breeze and I was simply a tornado, coming through and wrecking everything because I wasn't ready to love him like he deserved. I've always known the truth about myself, about my feelings. They have never been as jumbled and confused as I have let on. But I wasn't ready. Part of me feared I would never be. And I was right, about the risks. A beautiful, amazing calm summer breeze fell in love with him. And I think he fell in love in turn. He deserves that. Unwavering love. Especially with someone who lives near him, someone who can come by and check on him when skies are grey. It's a cruel joke, really, to know the depth of your love for someone but also to never be able to tell them about it. The fear is that maybe they'd take it to heart, maybe they'd believe you, for once. I can't tell him how I feel now because he is settling down with that gentle summer breeze, and I refuse to say or do anything that might jeopardize his happiness with her. I don't have the right. I will not be a wrecking ball anymore. This year has been a painful journey, and if it weren't for him being my best friend, I hesitate to think of what would have happened to me this year without his support. All this is to say that when it came to him, I always meant what I said. I just wasn't emotionally mature enough to know what to do about it. For the first time in my life, I am truly ready to walk away from the trainwreck that has been my life. Part of me always thought that maybe he'd be there waiting for me, and in a way, I guess he is. I will always love him, but I suppose I will always love him from afar. I will love him like it is my best kept secret. I love him so much that despite the reality of the situation always bringing me to my knees, that I am happy for him. I never deserved him. She does. I know he loves fierce. And because of that, I am happy for her. I've lost my chance, but that's okay. I have no words to explain how proud of him I am. Dear diary, I guess I better get back to the liquor. These boxes won't pack themselves.

#drafts #personal #random musings #love #i may be drunk at 4:20pm #i am very sad but somehow i know im strong enough to get through this #life is a wild ride #everything kinda sucks #2022 #the year of moving on

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imjustacarpartsgirl-blog · 6 years

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The Trainwreck named Stacey

When I had first became a driver for the store I work at, I met a nice sweet girl who looked like Blake lively, at least in my opinion. She was sugary sweet to everyone, even the gross pervert type. I thought, how does she do it, I have no tolerance for guys.

Well her sugar melted and I seen the ugliness starting to come out. She didn't want to be with her boyfriend but she didn't want to move out. So her and her kids dad took turns being there for their kid and she took her turn at all these men she's been grooming with her cutesy personality.

From guys at the dealerships to at home mechanics, it seemed like she had a wide variety of what she was interested in. Since we had began know each other quite well from working together she knew we both broke up with our partners around the same time, we sort of went through the ups and downs together and had something to relate to with each other.

That meant she knew of my developing relationship with our co-worker, but I couldn't even have this one guy to myself, to her, he was just "on her list" which said exactly.

She knew I was already spending every other week at his house but that didn't matter, she just wanted everyone to want her back. She would text him nudes and shove her phone in his face right in front of me. He'd brush her off and tell her to quit, but almost every male we worked with, even other stores, and our customers we're getting to see these pictures. Thankfully she gave up and moved on to new people after he gave her no interest.

Why didn't I say something, first off I will never "slut shame". Second of all, we aren't allowed to date co-workers, it was against the rules, one of us would be transferred. Three because my divorce was super long and really bad and I was trying to minimize the attention of our relationship and protect him from the harassment I was dealing with.

Anyway she finally said she wanted to move out her house, so I gave her constructive advice on where to go as a single mom ect; she didn't want her own place, she wanted a place to stay and a guy to take care of her. She went through the options and picked the customer she was already sleeping with and moved into his house and it went downhill from there.

It was constant partying, drugs, drinking and blowing her money. Sleeping in past her time to punch in, showing up 45 minutes late then bawling about everything. She became lazy and all the work fell on me. She became unstable and unpredictable, sporadically crying, lying, being drunk or high at work, going home on lunch and not coming back or came back worse. We were beginning to be extremely pissy towards each other and wanted to fight. Yeah right me fight, lol.

So she was racking up points and it took 12 points to get fired. I pushed for things to get wrote up instead of looked over, I needed a new co-worker who would actually work. Well finally the day came she was texting on her phone and crashed into a dumpster. When we get in accidents here, we're immediately directed to take a drug test, she refused. So our store manager gave her the option to quit instead of having a refused drug test on her employment recorded of why she was fired.

After an hour or so of crying to everyone at work, thinking it would go away, she finally collected her things and left. I know it's wrong, but I was so overjoyed I ran outside to the back of building and cried and danced out of pure happiness.

But, she wasn't out of my life. She quickly became friends with my to-be ex husband. They talked so much garbage about me online that my blood just boiled. The guy who said she was disgusting and called her a prostitute was suddenly being very friendly. She heard me say why I was leaving him and related because her guy was alike, she despised then both. An enemy of an enemy makes friends?

My hatred for her didn't last long, I felt bad for being mean in the first place. Seeing that she wanty mentally developed like a girl in her mood twenties should be, made sense. The things she did, all the bs she talked, using her body to get what she could out of older guys, not being able to hold a job, I let the hate part go. Bi still wanted nothing to do with her though, once you talk about my private life, publicly, I'm done. I don't talk about life to everyone, and during the divorce my ex used that against me, lie after lie and he knew I wouldn't play his game, but she joined in.

So she got a job at an other part store less than a block away, we met in the middle accidentally one day at the gas station, I already read everything she wrote about me on line, she seen me, her lip started quivering and her hands were shaking, I said "you look nice, how are you?" She wouldn't make eye contact but mumbled something about doing okay. I told her that was good and it was nice seeing her and left.

She got fired from that place for sleeping on pallets in the back room on the clock. She got a different job at a similar place, but that was short lived for writing a fake doctor note.

That's bringing us to today, I went to buy ice for our coolers and remembered the fast food place next door sold it. I walked in, Stacey from behind the counter mumbled "hows it going", I just gave her a nod and asked for three bags of ice.

#spillingthetea #drama #gossip #carparts #automotive #girls #girlfight #workplacedrama #workplace

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