#I’m screaming at the bars of my In closure

[blackholesun321]

It’s the yearning—

the miscommunication the seeing our dreams in each other but realizing those dreams aren’t what the other wants. It’s the rivalry, turned friendship, turned something more, turned bitter. It’s the I miss what we had but what we had wasn’t real enough for what we want.

It’s the years apart. It’s the getting older but never getting over each other. It’s the I could see we are two missing puzzle pieces forcefully fitted to the wrong ends of each other. Because we knew we’d fit together, but we’re to impatient and desperate and scared to truly- Try.

It’s the settling for something less. It’s the fear of something more. It’s the fear of ever really saying how we feel because in the end that won’t change us won’t fix us won’t help us be something we aren’t.

It’s the love and the pain and the effort is to much— and theres to much bad between us to ever be something else. But we have these moments, these seconds, these glimpses in between of what could have been if we didn’t let each other truly see one another— and what we could have had instead of running from that truth.

Because it’s to painful to fight for you, when all we ever do is fight.

[am0ralexis]

Choke (smut) ❤️‍🔥

You weren’t even sure why you came. Maybe it was the free drinks, or maybe it was some twisted hope that you’d finally get closure from that argument a year ago, the one that had left you both seething and silent. Closure, though, was the last thing on your mind when your eyes locked with his across the room.

Alex—Quackity—leaned against the bar, his signature beanie slightly askew, a drink in one hand. His black hair fell in messy strands over his forehead, and even from here, you could see the tension in his jaw. He looked good. Too good. And that pissed you off even more.

You didn’t plan to approach him. You told yourself you’d avoid him, pretend he didn’t exist. But your feet moved on their own, carrying you through the throng of streamers and fans until you were standing in front of him, your arms crossed, your glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“Well, look who’s here,” he drawled, his voice laced with that familiar mix of sarcasm and bitterness. “Thought you’d ghosted me for good.”

“Funny,” you shot back, your tone dripping with venom. “I thought you were the one who stormed off like a child.”

His eyes narrowed, and he set his drink down with a hard clink. “Oh, here we go. Can’t just let it go, can you?”

“Let it go?” you snapped, stepping closer. “You humiliated me in front of everyone, Alex. You don’t just let that go.”

He laughed, a short, humorless sound that made your blood boil. “Yeah, because you were such a saint in that argument. Don’t act like this is all on me.”

The air between you crackled with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle and your chest tighten. You wanted to scream, to slap him, to do something to wipe that smug look off his face. But before you could say another word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the bar, his grip firm enough to bruise.

“Let go of me!” you hissed, struggling against him, but he didn’t stop. He dragged you through the crowd, past the flashing lights and pounding music, until you reached a dark hallway lined with closed doors. Suddenly, he shoved you into one of them, the door slamming shut behind you.

The room was small and dimly lit, the only sound the muffled thrum of the party outside. You backed away, your heart racing, but he closed the distance in an instant, his hands gripping your shoulders as he pushed you against the wall.

“What the hell is your problem?” you demanded, your voice shaking with anger.

“You,” he growled, his face inches from yours. “You’ve always been my problem.”

His breath was warm against your skin, and despite everything, you couldn’t help the way your body responded, the way your pulse quickened and your stomach tightened. You hated him. You hated him. But the way he was looking at you, the way his eyes burned with that same fire that had drawn you to him in the first place—it made your resolve waver.

“You think you’re so fucking perfect,” he spat, his voice low and dangerous. “But you’re not. You’re just as fucked up as I am.”

“At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not,” you shot back, your chest heaving. “You’re a fucking hypocrite, Alex.”

He let out a dark laugh, his hands sliding down your arms until they rested on your hips. “Yeah? Well, maybe you’re just as much of a liar as I am.”

Before you could respond, he kissed you, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that left you breathless. It wasn’t gentle or sweet—it was raw, desperate, and angry. You hated how good it felt, how your body betrayed you, how you kissed him back with the same intensity, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

He broke the kiss just as suddenly as he’d started it, his eyes blazing as he looked down at you. “You still want me,” he said, his voice rough. “Admit it.”

“Go to hell,” you spat, but the way your voice trembled gave you away.

He smirked, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “Maybe I’ll take you with me.”

You shivered, your resolve crumbling as his lips found yours again, his tongue sliding into your mouth with a possessive heat that made your knees weak. His hands roamed over your body, igniting a fire that burned away any lingering thoughts of resistance. You hated him. You hated him. But you wanted him just as much.

He pulled away suddenly, his eyes dark with desire as he spat into your open mouth, the act shocking and degrading but somehow perfect. You choked, your nails digging into his arms as he grinned down at you.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Always have been.”

Before you could respond, his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. You gasped, your eyes widening as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against yours.

“Say it,” he demanded, his grip tightening. “Say you’re mine.”

“Fuck you,” you managed to choke out, but the way your body arched into his betrayed you.

He laughed, a dark, satisfied sound as he kissed you again, his hand still on your throat, his body pressing you harder against the wall. You could feel his arousal, the way he wanted you just as much as you wanted him, and it only made the fire inside you burn hotter.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you breathed when he finally pulled away, your voice trembling.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his lips curving into a smirk. “But you love it.”

His hand tightened around your throat just enough to make your breath stutter, his body flush against yours, heat radiating off him like fire. The party noise outside faded into nothing—the only thing you could feel was him, pressing you into the wall like he owned you.

“Say it,” he growled, lips brushing your cheek. “Say you’re mine.”

You didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, you surged up and kissed him hard, teeth clashing, tongues tangling. He groaned into your mouth, grinding against you, and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans, thick and straining, and fuck—your knees nearly gave out.

He pulled back, eyes dark, chest heaving. “So that’s how it is.”

Without another word, he turned you around and shoved you against the wall, his hands dragging roughly down your sides to your hips, yanking your pants down with quick, impatient fingers. The cold air hit your thighs for a second before his hand slid between them, cupping you through your underwear, already soaked through.

“You’re soaked,” he muttered, voice low and furious against your neck. “You hate me, huh? You’re dripping for me.”

You gasped as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, slick and warm, and found your clit. He rubbed tight, ruthless circles, his other hand tangled in your hair to keep your head tilted back, exposing your throat. You whimpered—there was no hiding how badly you wanted this.

“Such a liar,” he snarled. “You act like you don’t want me, but your body’s screaming for it.”

“Shut up,” you gasped, grinding against his hand. “Just—fuck, shut up and fuck me.”

That broke him.

He shoved your panties aside and unzipped his jeans, the sound quick and rough. You barely had time to breathe before he was pushing into you from behind—hard, fast, with no hesitation. You cried out, your hands bracing against the wall as he filled you completely, the stretch overwhelming, perfect.

“Fuck—” he groaned, thrusting deep. “You feel the same. Always so tight for me.”

His pace was brutal, unforgiving, hips slamming into yours as the sound of skin on skin echoed in the room, filthy and raw. One hand still gripped your hip, but the other snaked around to your throat again, holding you upright as he fucked you like he meant to ruin you.

Your orgasm built fast—too fast. The pressure inside you coiled tight, every thrust sending sparks up your spine. You tried to hold back, but he felt it, the way your body clenched around him.

“Don’t hold back,” he growled into your ear. “Come on me. Show me how much you hate it.”

That was it. You shattered around him, crying out his name like a curse, nails raking the wall as your body shook. He cursed low and vicious, holding you tighter as he chased his own release. A few more thrusts and he spilled inside you with a deep, guttural moan, hips jerking against yours.

For a moment, all you could do was breathe—heavy, ragged, overwhelmed.

Then he leaned in, mouth brushing your ear again. “Told you. Mine.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You were too fucked-out, too dazed. But the worst part? You wanted more.

You barely had time to come down before he turned you around again, his eyes raking over you like he hadn’t just wrecked you against a wall. Your legs were trembling, your underwear still pushed to the side, and his cum was already starting to drip down your inner thigh.

Alex looked down, grinning like the devil himself. “You’re such a mess,” he murmured, dragging two fingers through the slick between your legs. “Made for me.”

You swatted at his chest weakly, but he caught your wrist, then brought his fingers to your lips. “Clean it up.”

Your breath caught, but you didn’t hesitate. You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his fingers as your eyes locked on his. His pupils blew wide, his jaw flexing.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Do you even know what you do to me?”

He kissed you again—slower this time, deeper. His tongue slid over yours, tasting the mix of both of you, claiming you all over again. And just when you thought maybe that was it—that the fire was spent—he reached down and scooped you into his arms.

“What are you—” you started, but he shut you up with another kiss as he carried you to the small couch in the corner of the room.

“Not done with you,” he muttered. “Not even close.”

He laid you down, dragging your clothes the rest of the way off with maddening patience. You were bare in seconds, skin flushed and sensitive, your thighs still trembling. He looked down at you like he was starving.

He dropped to his knees between your legs and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. “Still shaking,” he murmured. “Let’s see how many more times I can make you fall apart.”

And then he buried his face between your legs.

His mouth was relentless—tongue sliding over your clit, lips sucking just hard enough to make your back arch. He gripped your hips to keep you still, but you were already writhing, moaning, gasping for breath as the pleasure hit you again, sharper and deeper than before.

“Alex—fuck, please—” you sobbed, already close again.

He groaned like your voice turned him on more than anything, the vibrations making your thighs clench around his head. His tongue dipped into you, then back up to flick over your clit, over and over until you came again with a cry, thighs shaking, hands tangled in his hair.

But he didn’t stop.

He pushed two fingers inside you, curling them just right, his mouth never leaving your clit. You tried to push him away, too sensitive, too overwhelmed—but he just held you down, fucking you with his fingers as another orgasm built, faster this time, like your body didn’t even have a chance to recover.

You came again with a sob, your voice cracking, your body convulsing beneath him.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth was slick with you, and his expression was pure satisfaction. He crawled over you, kissing your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You’re fucking perfect like this,” he whispered. “Used, wrecked, still begging for more.”

And then he was hard again, pressing against your entrance, teasing.

“You want it?” he asked, voice rough. “Beg.”

You glared up at him, still panting, lips swollen from his kisses, thighs slick and aching. He didn’t move. Just stared down at you with that maddening smirk, his cock teasing your entrance, thick and hard again, glistening with your slick.

“Beg,” he repeated, voice low and merciless. “Or I walk out that door and leave you dripping, aching, and empty.”

Your pride flared hot, but your body—traitorous, needy—betrayed you. You shifted your hips, trying to take him in, but he just gripped your thigh and pressed down, holding you still.

“No,” he growled. “Use your words.”

“Please,” you rasped, throat raw from moaning. “Please fuck me, Alex.”

He tilted his head. “Say it right.”

You clenched your jaw, eyes narrowing. He raised an eyebrow in challenge, then slapped the inside of your thigh—sharp, just enough to sting.

“Try again.”

You swallowed your pride, shame and arousal tangling in your gut. “Please, Daddy,” you whispered. “Please fuck me. I need it.”

His breath caught—barely—but it was enough. That wicked grin turned feral, and without warning, he slammed into you in one deep, brutal thrust.

You cried out, your hands scrabbling at his back, nails digging into his skin. He didn’t give you time to adjust. Just started pounding into you, hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping skin obscene in the tiny room.

“That’s it,” he growled against your neck. “Knew you’d break for me. Knew you’d beg for Daddy’s cock.”

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, his other wrapping back around your throat. Not enough to hurt—just enough to make your breath catch, your head spin, your body throb harder around him.

“You feel that?” he hissed. “This is what you need. Being used. Owned.”

You could barely think, your body spiraling into another orgasm already, your walls fluttering around him as your vision blurred.

“Fuck—fuck, Daddy, I’m coming again—”

“That’s it,” he growled, eyes locked on yours. “Come on my cock. Make a mess.”

And you did. Screaming, shaking, your body writhing beneath him as you shattered for the third—fourth?—time, the intensity almost painful.

But he still wasn’t done.

He pulled out, leaving you empty and gasping, and flipped you over like you weighed nothing, dragging your hips up so you were on your knees, face pressed into the cushions.

“Such a good little toy,” he muttered, rubbing the head of his cock against your slick entrance. “But I’m not done ruining you yet.”

He pushed back in, even deeper at this angle, one hand tangled in your hair, the other landing a firm smack on your ass. You whimpered, the sting sending another rush of heat straight to your core.

“Count,” he ordered.

You barely had time to register before the next slap came. “One,” you gasped.

Another. “Two—fuck—”

Another. “Three—”

Your skin was burning, your mind dissolving into nothing but sensation and submission. Every thrust, every slap, every filthy word from his mouth pushed you further into oblivion.

By the time he came again, spilling deep inside you with a guttural moan and a final, punishing thrust, you were sobbing into the couch, overwhelmed, used, and completely undone.

He collapsed over you, both of you slick with sweat and come, hearts racing.

After a long moment, he leaned down and kissed your shoulder. This time, it was gentle. Soft. Almost… caring.

“Still hate me?” he murmured against your skin.

You laughed weakly, voice hoarse. “So much.”

“Good.” He smiled.

[akkivee]

HAPPY 7 YEARS OF HYPMIC EVERYONE 🎰🥳🎰🥳🎰🥳

to celebrate, i’m just going to list seven moments hypmic irrevocably changed the trajectory of my entire life lmao

1️⃣ buying the lives was probably the best worst thing i could have ever done to myself lmao. by the time i’d realised you could buy them, only the 2nd&3rd lives were out on dvd (they’re bundled together on one set), and though it wasn’t the first hypmic purchase i made, it kicked off the lives obsession lol. the 2nd live in particular blew my mind lol it was the first time most of the cast were on stage for hypmic and i’ll never forget the happy surprise on kijima-san’s face when the crowd screamed along to his call and response parts in drb lol. on top of that, kimura beatboxed live on stage confirming it really was ichiro beatboxing, shiraimu and nozu in lieu of souma-san’s absence gave it their all singing his parts and nozu dropped the sickest freestyle, and the samajuto cigarette kiss was born and so thoroughly rewired everyone’s brains, it just became part of samatoki’s character lmao

2️⃣ this list very easily can be just about the lives lol but i also loved getting to watch them live lol. forever and always 🖕🖕corona but getting to sidestep around abema’s booboo dookie region locks to watch the 5th live set off a precedence for needing to live watch them lmao. it’s probably the snowball that kicked off the avalanche that convinced me to try to go to japan for the first time in ten years, give or take, and bat’s 8th live day two was their most special live yet lmao

3️⃣ ITS NOT A LIVE ITS A STREAM LOL but the moment the kuukou brainrot roundhouse kicked me in the face was watching kuukou’s spirit possess hayama-san in real time lol i would have saved myself from so much heartbreak if i had stayed a matenhoe but nooooooo kuukou had to manifest in his seiyuu and i haaaaaad to watch it happen live and now i’m kuukou’s btch 🙄

4️⃣ wanna know how i became a matenrou stan lol???? jakurai’s voice introducing matenrou to the world in drb and hifumi flexing the love his women give to him makes him filthy rich lmao

5️⃣ i’ve felt a lot of frustration whilst mucking about in hypmic land, but i don’t think i have ever experienced as frustrating emotional rollercoaster ride more than the one hypstage has taken me on lmao!!!!! hypmic sneakily changing their description of the franchise from ‘voice project’ to ‘multimedia project’ when it was announced, okay actually showing a fantastic story despite hypmic’s ‘lack’ of one back in the day, nagosaka getting introduced and giving us simultaneously the best and ‘worst’ depiction of kuukou, only exclude them in the following tracks lmaooo, creating a really cool concept for mixing division pairs with an oridivi only for it to get cancelled like genuinely 🖕🖕covid but rolling up with the greatest comeback in the form of the rep lives where in the middle of the run we were given the best kuukou performance yet, shortly followed by the announcement that everyone was graduating!!!!!!!! but bop 2023 was magical; a fantastic send off to a legendary cast and closure to the pinnacle of stage production and hypmic storytelli— the stage was rebooted six months later in an absolute betrayal that was quite literally assuaged my love for hypmic, hatred for nelke and getting REAL WOMEN on stage lmao

6️⃣ and so like lemme circle back around to bat’s 8th live lmao. do you know how crazy that time was lol???? bat stans threw together a really sick flower display at a local flower shop, crowdfunded to make the lights display in this popular mall in nagoya shine purple for them, bars dedicating drinks for bat and welcoming live goers for an after party drink, day two of the live fell on bat’s 3rd anniversary and a few days prior they dropped the bright and dark mv for hypstage and the hella awesome banquet mv that bat stans ripped to shreds analysing jp bat fans my BELOVED lmao november is truly a bat month lol but anyway the 8th live was a peak time and i miss it daily!!!!!!!!

7️⃣ instead of being really gross and sappy about kuukou or the piece of merch that got me into hypmic lol shoutout to the music like actually lol. dba locked me in the moment i listened to it and i think very fondly of those days going thru the youtube for more lol. gave me a refreshed appreciation for music, esp jp music, got me to listen to more music instead of the couple hundred or so songs i’ve been listening to since i was in middle school LOL. so thanks hypmic, for giving me peak dissociation songs (like tigridia), the hypest shit that had me yelling (like moonlight shadow) and songs that had my heart racing at 3 in the morning and thoroughly unable to sleep lol (can you believe kaigen exists in this world and they let that shit drop during bat vs mtr 6th live and bc the bat seiyuu’s stage presence is just top tier they blew it out of the park frame one and she says the brainrot didn’t truly settle until live watching hayama-san get possessed but the damage was truly done listening to that calced cacophony of noise and in the ensuing silence as hayama-san’s ‘kaigen’ echoed throughout the studio OH IM GOING TO BE SICK—)

[bullet-prooflove]

Hi can you do #18 That summer night in June from your radio prompt list with Terry Bruno? :)

It’s a summer night in late June when it happens.

He isn’t usually a fan of inter-departmental cases, there’s usually friction, a clash of egos but with you it’s about getting closure for the victim’s families. Something Terry’s entirely on board with.  

It’s a brutal case, one of the worst he’s worked in a while. He doesn’t feel like going home in the aftermath, his heads too busy, he needs to decompress.

“There’s something I do.” You begin when he explains the problem. “Something that helps gets me out of my head for a while when I work a case like this.”

He thinks you’re talking about sex. He’s about to turn you down because as much as he wants to explore that with you, he can’t, not tonight, not after the shit he’s seen. You must have read the expression on his face because you slap his arm with the back of your hand, and he has to duck his head to hide his smile.

The two of you end up at Coney Island.

It’s been a long time since he’s been at the fairground, not since he was a kid. When you guide him towards the Cyclone, he almost pulls away.

“I get enough adrenaline chasing down perps.” He tells you.

“It’s not about the adrenaline.” You tell him. “It’s about the release.”

It isn’t until he’s on the ride that he gets it. There’s an exhilaration that you just can’t seem to get anywhere else when you ride a roller coaster, it rushes through Terry’s body like a narcotic as the cart drops and he finds himself screaming his lungs out.

There’s a catharsis in it.

All the shit he’s seen it, the anger, the horror, the fear, it flows out of him as his hands grasp the metal bar, clinging to it for dear life.

It turns into a date before he even realises it. You end up sharing dinner and drinks at the Salt and Shake, it’s low key, casual and he couldn’t ask for better company. When you go head-to-head at the shooting games, you win a neon green dinosaur plushie that you give to him as a parting gift.

“Something to remember me by when you head back to over to Manhattan SVU.” You tell him as the two of you slip into the booth for the Ferris Wheel.

“I’m not sure I could ever forget you.” Terry tells you as the bar gets pulled down over his lap.

He kisses you that night, at the top of the Ferris Wheel. His lips brush over yours and from that moment you’re hooked. You’ve never met a man like Terry Bruno, and you doubt you ever will again.

[moyazaika]

oh, dear me. Have I ever told you that I'm a big fan of true crime?

I'm afraid you've opened a Pandora's box of boxes, my friend.

I am. CRAZY. (We could end it here) ABOUT PROSECUTOR DARLING AND THEIR FUCKED UP KINGPIN. Good golly gee I'm. yet I raise you another level of fuck-upery. What if you were the sole survivor of a terribly, horribly, oh-so-violent crime. This brutal, nightmare-fueling, gut-wrenching crime, committed by the complete and utter filth of the devil himself, that no one bothers to hear you out about. You spend every second of your life in fear, putting locks upon locks on all of your windows and doors, memorizing every single route out of town you could possibly imagine, hoarding supplies in case you ever need to run without warning. You go through hell and back, years of psychological torture, being slammed by the media, defense attorneys, other faceless, nameless voices who are convinced you must be lying about what you saw on that fateful night. And even physical violence. Hell, there's a sole survivor of this horrific crime who wants to conveniently point their finger at this supposed murderer? Nothing a good old fashioned beat-down can't fix. Your fixation on bringing justice to the crime you witnessed years ago has destroyed your life, it's made you hate with a burning passion extending towards the perpetrator, the world, yourself. But finally, FINALLY, after years of this torment… you put that man behind bars.

Yes. The man is behind bars, physically. He can't come and get you anymore. You don't have to sprint to your apartment door, hands shaking as you try to unlock it as quickly as possible. There's no one in the closet, no one at the window, nothing under your bed: You are safe. He's in jail. But you are still trapped with the conscious guilt, the unstoppable force that continues to eat away at your every waking moment; Why? Did the hours of interrogation footage not answer it? Did the most tense moments of that trial, or any of the trials before that, not live up to your wildest dreams of this wicked man's intentions? Is locking that psychopath up not satisfactory enough to fulfill the heavy hole in your heart, the one that still wants to look him in the eyes and ask; Why? Why do you still not feel any sort of closure? Where is the finality? Where is your justice? That's what drags you back to the bus station, back through the gates, down the road, past the double doors with the grumpy guards, right back down the hall to him.

He thinks you're a real character, actually. Dedicated, he likes that in a partner. Regardless, it's not like you could run from your guilt forever, right? One way or another, you'll trudge back to that dinky little prison cell, eyes downcast, feet dragging along the cold concrete, acting like you don't know why you're there. Again.

And he'll entertain that, happily. You've gone through all this trouble to put him away from life, maybe even to death, the least he can do is give you his full, undivided attention.

It doesn't matter what mood you enter in, somehow, you always work yourself up to this hysterical state. So while you recount the grisly details of what happened the night you lost everyone in your life, he can sit and smile and enjoy the view. Oh, you cry, you scream, you spill your tortured soul all over the unforgiving prison floor. Your rage can be felt from the other side of the glass, and it's delicious. He cherishes these little talks. He thinks he could keep himself behave for just a little longer if he could keep you around.

ayayayaya I’m sorry for the long ask/rant/brain vomit 😭 it’s late and I’m done with midterms so now I get to stare at a screen and go wooooooow goreeeee

on another note, how terrifying would it be to try to break up w Freddy Krueger and then have a never ending dream where he projects ur breakup texts over and over like WHERE DID WE GO WRONNGGGGG

the message u can’t leave on read 😭

or like you're just trying to get some sleep and Freddy's at ur window with a boombox like.

okay I’ll stop. Have you guessed who I am yet ;)

Ya it's me, I've been on another horror movie kick, but ALSO another true crime kick. It's pretty damn scary and I'm a bit too empathetic cuz. Serial killers r shit people and don't deserve any respect. So I've been into missing persons cases! Is that any better or nah 🤔

hope you're doin okay! Winter approaches us, are you ready for hot chocolate and candy canes 😋

sincerely,

-🕺🕺🕺

ohhhh god i’m sorry i’m responding so late nonnie i’m currently heading into midterms so. not fun. send. help. 😀😀!! oh also thank you !! i’m glad you like them both !! i loooove their dynamic so muchhh <3

ohh is this writing i see??? ok lemme read and come back :p

ok i’m back and yOOOO??? THIS IS INSANE. he thinks he could behave if only to keep you around longer???????? hello handsome 😅😅 i want him 😂😂😅 put me in the cell next to him i’ll show him the real punishment 😞

the dynamic you’ve created so well reminds me of nbc’s hannibal which i think your gay ass would love (affectionate) if u haven’t seen it already u should fr tho it’s got a lot of crime, psychology is a prevalent theme + banger dialogue and also i didn’t wanna mention it but like… fucking freaks at every corner bro 😭 trust me nonnie you’d LOVEE it 🙂‍↕️

i used to be into true crime as a teenager but i’ve distanced myself from it since i’ve grown older because it is so nuanced and just leaves a really bad taste on my mouth what with people treating it like entertainment. retelling the story of someone’s gruesome murder as you do your makeup or mukbang is fucking insane babes 😭😭😭😭😭

idk i just think it has the same sort of thing going on as straight people on booktok.

tldr i avoid both spaces like the plague 💔

oki that’s all from me since it is 1am and i have an early morning tomorrow [gunshot to the head] i hope you’re well lovely! and yeah, i know who you are just by the first two sentences of the ask EVERYTIMEE haha

australia heads into winter later than you guys do, so it’s still relatively warmer here even tho summers over. but yk what sucks?? we don’t get a white christmas cus we don’t have snow here WTF 💔💔💔💔

the aussie yearns for the snow……. (and for five minutes alone with this prisoner guy)

[fandomsoda]

Obligatory SB Ruin first-impressions opinion piece

On its face, I do not like Ruin. It is not satisfying at all and simply opens up more questions in a very, VERY annoying way. And the few character moments I do adore about it are underutilized and short-lived. And that pisses me the HELL off.

Roxy and Cassie’s past and connection feel like an afterthought. It feels like it’s there to bait us, honestly. Like nothing came out of that other than an out-of-nowhere gutwrench scene that feels so cheap in hindsight. And Eclipse, god Eclipse (or as I call them when I don’t want to get canon vs fanon confused- Ruinclipse). Eclipse is great. I adore them, just like everyone else does. But there is not enough of them, not even close. In fact, I would rather have not gotten them at all because how DARE Steelwool make a character they KNEW would be fucking BELOVED and only give them like 3 lines of dialogue? And they’re great. Their voice in particular is fucking incredible. Kellen Goff KNOWS what he’s doing with character voices. But there was like none of them. And that angers me for OBVIOUS FUCKING REASONS.

My biggest gripe with Ruin is that it has things that are really fucking good, but there isn’t ENOUGH.

And don’t even get me started on how the whole mimic thing came out of nowhere and just brings up more questions and complicates things EVEN MORE. And now I am desperately digging for an un-before-discovered ending in feeble hope for SOMETHING, ANYTHING, that even vaguely SEEMS like closure or an actual fucking ENDING.

We have no background for anything, btw. We don’t know how Cassie knows Gregory, we don’t know where she came from, we know NOTHING about her.

This dlc sacrificed half-decent storytelling in favor of scares and gameplay and that is the exact opposite of what it should have tried to do. I consider Ruin a massive fucking step down from Security Breach as someone who loves Security Breach despite its flaws.

Ruin was not exactly boring like most critics I’ve seen claim, but rather the moments of excitement and good HAVE NO PAYOFF.

As it stands right now, I would honestly rather Ruin not have happened.

I will still post about it, and join in fandom hype, but not because of what it is. But rather what I know it could be. I say all of these things out of love. Because I love FNAF and I love SB and I love the direction it took, but god I hate how they have done nothing to enrich it with Ruin. This dlc honestly feels like a big waste of time. They focused on pleasing the gameplay-obsessed haters who wouldn’t have appreciated the dlc no matter what happened and completely forgot what was actually good about the initial game. And that deeply saddens me. I hope things get better. I hope whatever we uncover later gives closure, I hope there are things in the future, but as of right now this was a massive disappointment.

And honestly the bar of my expectations was barely an inch from the ground relative to the base game.

Edit: wow I sound angrier here than I thought I did when it was initially made. I promise I mean all of this in a “it’s so close to being great and I’m frustrated at how far it fell” way and this is not just me screaming “it didn’t meet a quota for the amount of things I like in it”. The lore problems are the biggest issue here (even though FNAF lore was already fucked but it’s never fun to see it get further mangled) it just specifically is extra aggravating how little of the exciting character moments we got if that makes sense.

[honestdreams]

Promise | Bruce Wayne

words: 1006

warning(s): the batman spoilers

masterlist

a/n: finally wrote something again, i feel like such a failure when im not able to complete a story i start. i actually based this story off a druig one i started but never completed, i was working on a wider canvas of what i want the world between bruce and y/n to look like, and i was imagining their relationship and this idea stuck out on me, and i realised i did something similar and adapted it with bruce instead of druig. anyway i hope you all enjoy and dont be shy to tell me if you want more ♡

-

after a rocky patch y/n had finally come to terms with the other side of her lover, it was a darkness that made him feel fulfilled him, and in his words ‘just as much as spending time with her did’. it was his other lover.

she stood in the bat cave obviously out of place but it was their tradition, he had to say goodbye and promise like every night or she would go crazy waiting for him to come home, and they didn’t want another incident.

-

bruce had snuck out of her in the middle of the night, leaving y/n with a kiss on the cheek but no acknowledgment of his departure. leading to her going out in the dead of night after him, because it would worry her to death if she didn’t.

he had no idea of how much until he looked up to see his lover standing in the opening of a dark alleyway in the pouring rain while he beat on a coward that had jumped a lady walking home from a bar. when suddenly y/n was tackled to the ground, probably by a friend of the man bruce was currently on top of, hearing her scream, bruce saw red.

he jumped up off the half conscious man and kicked the attacker off y/n and once he was on his back, bruce just kept punching, letting out a yell of frustration as he brought the man within an inch of his life, until y/n found the strength to push bruce off the whimpering man.

bruce did nothing but wrap his arms around her, holding her tight, afraid for her to ever be in that situation again, his frame towered over hers, and though his armour was tough she nuzzled herself into his body and cried, letting out all the emotions of shock and fear.

‘i’m sorry’ he chocked out.

she didn’t reply just continued to cry, so he picked her up and brought her home.

he made her a bath, slowly warming her up so her body didn’t go into shock, he gently ran his fingers over her now bruised skin.

‘i’m sorry’ he repeated in the silence.

she didn’t move or respond but carefully glanced at her troubled lover, almost afraid to make eye contact.

‘you left me bruce, we don’t do that’ she spoke in barely a whisper, like she didn’t even want him to hear but of course he did, his ears honed in to the sound of her voice.

‘i know your loyalty to this city is serious and it matters a lot to you but i thought i mattered more.

‘it’s not that you left, it’s that you left without saying goodbye. if you were to die out there, would you be okay leaving me to wake up to the news of the death of the love of my life without so much as a goodbye. i would lose you with no closure. thinking his love for the city meant everything to him, that he was willing to die for it without even a word to me.

‘you’re my soulmate bruce, we’ve been over this, think about how much i mean to you and times it a thousand times over because that’s how much you mean to me, and the proof is in our actions. i couldn’t sleep without you and you couldn’t sleep without going out there-“ he cut her off

‘i can’t sleep because the amount of danger out there forces me awake, i’ve had real effect on this city my love. i install fear into the heart of these criminals so they second guess their actions, and if that spares an innocent or stops a selfish act its worth it-“ she cut him off in turn

‘is it worth me?’’

he grabbed her hands, his rough and calloused hands engulfed hers, she did nothing but stare at their point of connection

‘you are the reason i want the city safe, i would have given anything to have been able to save my parents-‘

‘you were just a child bruce’

‘nonetheless if i could save anyone i want it to be you, i wake up in a cold sweat because every time i hear someone scream… i hear your scream. my love you do your best work during the day, while my best work is done at night.

‘the girl tonight looked so much like you. i was just watching her, making sure she got home safe and when she got dragged into that alley, i snapped. i broke that guy’s hands so he’ll think twice before he tries to use them against someone again or at least now he won’t be able to use them properly for a couple of months’

‘you go out in the middle of the night dressed as a bat… for me?’ she cracked a smile teasing him.

‘yes i go out dressed as a bat, just for you’

she brought their intertwined hands to her lips and placed a soft kiss on his skin.

‘you have to wake me up, even if i hit you when you do, you have to say goodbye… and you have to promise you’ll come back home, come back to me’ she mumbled the last bit like she was embarrassed how vulnerable she was being.

he kissed her forehead ‘ i promise my love’

-

y/n stood wrapped in a black fuzzy blanket and stared as her lover dressed himself in his serious, protective armour, she chuckled to herself a bit watching him put on eyeshadow then frowned seeing the change in his eyes. the darkness had settled, she pulled the blanket tighter and bruce noticed, he sighed softly and made his way to her, cupping her face and placing his forehead against hers.

‘i can’t promise i’ll come back unharmed my love but i promise i’ll come back, like always’

‘i know’ she bit her tongue to comment how these nights were slowly chipping pieces of him away.

‘just promise me you’ll be safe’

-

masterlist

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

regret | deacon x sole survivor

“i don’t feel the same way, charmer.” his voice was barely a whisper.

sole felt a lump grow in their throat as they tried to fight back the tears that threatened to escape. they tried to let out a simple, “okay, i understand,” but only silence filled the air.

deacon knows. he catches the tears building up in their eyes and knows their voice is silently attempting to scratch its way out.

he desperately wants to stop their pain, wipe their tears and remind them that he thinks no differently of their relationship, but something in his heart tugs as sole fights back to hide their vulnerability from him. “i’m sorry.” is all he truly lets out because in reality, his words are just as lost as soles own.

to sole, his words become a blur. their knees become weak as their vision becomes clouded with tears they refuse to let out.

‘i’ll give them time,’ he thinks but his feet struggle to find movement as he continues to stare down at sole, speechless for the first time in a long while.

before he could make a move, sole rushes out of the room, not sparing him a second glance. the sound of the door shutting behind him breaks deacon out of his trance, grounding him back to reality.

a tinge of regret pokes at his heart and he silently pushes it away, knowing that this was for the best. he didn’t have feelings for them and it was nothing but the truth.

or so he thought.

-

the next few weeks are almost a blur for him as his partner goes mia from the commonwealth. the first two weeks, he tries to let it be, convincing himself that sole might’ve needed some time to themselves to sort their feelings out, so he lets them. seeing them might be the last thing they need, so he tries to fight the urge to do so.

yet, as time goes by, the worry in his heart rapidly grows when they’re announced as missing by the minutemen. he grows unnaturally quiet upon hearing their words and feels himself grow weak at the possibilities of what could’ve happened to his partner.

searching far and wide did almost nothing for him and only flared his concern. there was little to no clues of their disappearance and the hope that he would find them sooner or later began to slowly deteriorate.

deacon takes in a deep breath, trying to soothe his mind of all the concern and regret. how could he let it get this bad? why couldn’t he at least check up on them day to day instead of running away?

deep down, he knew the truth of it all. it screamed volumes to him and no matter how much he tried to silence it, it grew louder with every passing second. he avoided sole as much as they avoided him because deacon refused to confront the truth between them both. he never provided closure because he never knew how to.

and the more he refused to face the reality of the situation, the longer the days stretched. he found himself pushing everyone away, spending countless nights with tears streaming down his face, hoping someday sole would just turn up on the railroads doorstep. he didn’t care if they forgave him or not— he just wanted to see them safe.

tonight, he found himself with a bottle in his hand, hunching over the counter as he drank the night. he silently thanked lady luck for landing him in an almost empty bar for no one to catch the state he put himself in. unbeknownst to him, a certain mercenary watched his back from the minute he’s entered the bar till the very last drop of his nth bottle.

“you know, i don’t think that’s a very healthy thing to do.” deacon looked over his shoulder, and though his vision continued to spin, he automatically recognized the annoying face that pestered him.

“let a man ‘ave fun, asshole.” he slurred, trying to push out a grin. maccready rolled his eyes and occupied the seat near deacon, folding his arms.

“i’m serious.” mac pulled the bottle away from his hands, tossing it to the bin nearby.

“hey, i was-!” before he could finish, the mercenary cut him off, not wanting to listen to a word that left his mouth. “do you wanna talk about it?”

his words cut through the facade he tried to pull off and deacon immediately fell silent upon his words. “i know we don’t meet eye to eye all that much, but i hate to see you like this.”

as much as he wanted to lie to his face, continue his said facade, he wasn’t physically able to upkeep that image anymore. it was extremely tiring, especially with everything going on. he let out a sigh and allowed his head to fall on his arms that rested on the table. “you wouldn’ understan’.”

theres a pregnant pause, but he eventually responds. “i don’t, but i could try.”

it takes him a few moments to decide whether or not to confide in someone, especially maccready of all people. to his dismay, the words leave his mouth before he could stop himself from letting it out.

“you won’t tell?” it’s a point of no return— he knows — but for some reason, he doesn’t take it back. was the consequences of actions finally getting to him? probably. he didn’t have time to think as maccready let out a small, but shocked, “of course.”

and so he lets it out— not everything — but enough for maccready to get the message. how it all lead up this point and how it contributed to their disappearance.

“i think i made a mistake.” he says, voice barely a whisper. “i made a huge fucking mistake and i don’t know what to do.”

mac looks down at agent with sympathy, detecting the pain trapped in his voice and sighs, “we all do. it’s just the human in us.”

the rest of his words grow obscured as his eyes droop, the alcohol and sleepless nights finally catching up to him. slowly, but surely, the world blacks out.

-

it’s almost dreamlike— the feeling of his hair being brushed softly and the way a familiar voice lulls him awake. he lets out a small groan as his head pounds violently from what he hoped was the night before. he thinks it’s all in his head; the soft touches and the soft voice that continued to fall upon his ears. it’s so painfully familiar, yet it couldn’t be but he felt his heart jump at the possibility of it.

“sole?” his eyes shoot open but close back in an instant as the gentle light illuminating from the window cracks filled his vision. his head dips on what seems to be their lap, trying to block it out desperately. he felt the same hand that brushed his locks rest on top of his eyes to protect it from the sunlight that only made his head throb more.

“morning sleepyhead.” upon hearing that sweet sound, tears began to form in his eyes once more. the one person he’s yearned to see for what seemed like centuries was finally within arms reach. just like that, his tears fell effortlessly, collecting in soles hand as it streamed down his cheeks.

“deacon?” before they could remove their hand to reveal the tears spilling from his eyes, he quickly places his hand on top of theirs as a silent request to keep his eyes hidden.

“i’m sorry.” he chokes out, voice cracking through each word that left his lips, “i’m fucking sorry. i-“ he gently squeezed the same hand that rested on top of theirs. sole remained silent, watching as he spoke through ragged breaths. he tried his best to muster out his apologies, thoughts — feelings — through the pounding of his mind.

“everything i said, it was a lie. it was all a fucking lie just to avoid having some kind of attachment in my life. i hurt you because i was scared of facing my fears.”

“lie? scared? deacon, what-,” their words drifted into nothingness as deacon continued on.

“no matter how much i tried to run away from it, i knew i couldn’t. i had feelings for you. feelings more than this partnership that we both agreed to do, more than the best friends we claimed to be.” at this point, his feelings poured through the cracks of his heart and he knew that he would fix it this time, even if sole no longer felt the same way. “i fell for you hard. i was in love with you and i still am, sole.”

after a deep breath, he continued on. “you don’t have to forgive me. you don’t even have to give me the chance to love you properly, i just want you to know i’m sorry. i’m sorry it had to take you to leave from my life for me realize how much this meant to me. how much you meant to me.”

for a moment, it’s still; the air seems tense at first and time seems to freeze. there’s this sense of fear that overtakes his mind for a mere second.

soon enough, time seems to continue on as sole places a soft kiss on his forehead, allowing it to linger for a few seconds. “we’ll talk about this more when you wake up, okay?” they whisper and as reassuring as it sounds, he’s still terrified. terrified that he’ll wake up alone.

“will you be here when i wake up?” he tries to let it out calmly, but there is a hint of panic and unsureness in his voice he couldn’t push away any longer. all of that seems to melt away as sole lets out a small chuckle, his heart swelling with a mix of pain and relief.

“yes.” they reassure, “i’ll be here for as long as you need me.”

he let out a relieved sigh, keeping his hand on top of the one that covered his eyes. for the first time in weeks, everything finally felt right.

“love you, charmer.” before he could hear their reply, he felt himself being pulled into slumber that quietly called his name.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Could you write something based on this prompt Dick x reader! villain "I hope we never get to see each other again."

Dangerous People

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Nightwing x Reader

Warnings: Sexual assault and miscarriage. Extremely sensitive themes here, please don't read if you are triggered by such topics.

Word Count: 1.8K

Dick used to think the most dangerous people were the ones who had no morals. The people who did the dirtiest of things and had no way of redemption because there's a piece of stone where their heart should be.

He had seen it a million times over when he was Robin and then Nightwing. It had been that kind of person who took away his parents and he would learn it was the very same kind that took yours.

Detective Grayson met you one rainy night in November when you were brought into the police station in Bludhaven, cold and shivering. Tears were pouring down your face and you looked sick.

He would later come to find that night that your parents were killed by a man named Black. You told him all that you could, insisting that it was him and that they should arrest him.

As much as Dick wanted to, he couldn't just pick up a man and put him behind bars, not without evidence. Although he did promise that he would try his best to put him away. Dick could see the comfort that his words brought you.

The night he met you was also the night he slept with you. Not sex. Just sleep.

He had offered to drive you back home but you just shook your head in tears, saying that you couldn't go back home where your parents had just been murdered. And that you didn't have any money to stay at a hotel.

It was no secret that Dick had a bleeding heart, so when he saw your red and puffy eyes staring up at him, he quickly offered up his apartment for you to sleep in that night.

He took you home, and made you take a nice, hot shower before bundling you up in his spare clothes and letting you take the bed.

You repaid him the next morning by cooking him breakfast.

Thus, began the start of a beautiful relationship.

You panted, breath stuttering in your chest as Dick trailed kisses down your neck. Your fingers were carding through his hair, twitching and tugging at the roots every time his teeth grazed your sweet spot.

He held your hips to his body with a tight grip. He met your lips again with an open-mouthed kiss that swallowed your moans when his hands cupped your chest.

"I'm crazy about you..." Dick whispered underneath his breath when you cupped his cheeks. Your eyes fluttered open to see him watching you with deep blue eyes. You knew what he wanted to say, you felt it.

You kissed him again, slow and soft, conveying everything you could possibly be feeling.

"I love you too."

Falling for you made Dick want to capture Black even more. He knew of the kind of trauma that followed you throughout your life unless you got the closure you needed, so he poured his heart out into finding the man who robbed you of your family in one night.

But he was good, scary good. There was no evidence. No fingerprints, no DNA samples. No witnesses, other than you. But that wasn't enough.

He had known just how to avoid all the cameras and had left the weapon at the scene of the crime, a knife from your kitchen.

Dick felt helpless, he wanted so badly to be able to find this man and arrest him for your sake. He felt like a failure every time he would see the look of disappointment on your face when he said there were no leads.

So, he decided to go into his background. Black, a man who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was a shareholder of your parents’ company and Dick wondered if there was something behind the scenes that made him want to kill your mother and father.

But none of it made sense, according to the contracts that each of them signed, in the case of a death then there was no possible way for him to get his hands on your parents’ shares. It was already enlisted to you. And Black had known about it.

So why try and murder your parents when it wouldn't have benefitted him in any way. Could it have been out of anger? In the spur of the moment? No, everything looked too well planned for that.

It was then he got a call from another detective. They got an anonymous tip that there was evidence found at the scene. He immediately went over there only to realize there was something wrong.

The footprints were even, too even. It was unusual that there was equal pressure at all parts of his sole. The cigarette lighter underneath the table was empty.

He had been so sure that he had looked over the place so carefully. How could he have missed the obvious footprint in the carpet and the lighter under the table?

It was then his partner mused that the evidence was fabricated and that Black wasn't the real culprit. That someone was trying to frame him.

And then everything made sense.

***

Dick’s heart pounded in his ears as he ran. Never in his life did the Nightwing suit ever feel so strained against his body. He felt like his chest was being compressed and each breath was harder and harder to take. Still, he pumped his legs until they ached painfully as he ran faster to you.

His head throbbed against his skull with the information he just learnt.

His eyes skimmed over all the words in your file and his heart rate picked up. He couldn't believe there had been so much information that he had overlooked before, simply trusting your words.

It was such an amateur move that he was surprised with himself. How could he have trusted you so blindly without verifying it?

As he read the file, his heart began clenching in his chest. With each word it was getting harder to breath.

You were the victim of a sexual crime case, that was left incomplete, the name of the suspect was censored. The next paper was another case, you were the victim of a planned mugging, it stated that you sustained injuries. The one after that was a medical report, a miscarriage.

Everything started making sense. The puzzle pieces started fitting in his head. The name of your assaulter was censored because he was a major shareholder of the company and partners with your parents. The mugging was planned so that you couldn't get a paternal test done.

Your parents and Black conspired against you. They made you hold their burdens so that their sins wouldn't be revealed.

When he got home to find the door wide open, his blood froze in his veins. He rushed through the apartment to find that it was empty, you had left in a hurry. He needed to find you, especially when he realized one thing.

His Glock was missing.

Dick swallowed roughly when he saw you, jumping across the roof until he was only one building away from you.

“(Y/N) don’t do it!” He shouted, as if you would actually listen but he still bounded across the gap between you, hand coming to wrap around the gun you were holding to deflect the shot against the ground.

The sound resonated through the area and his ears began ringing but he paid no heed, quickly disarming you and throwing away the gun in your hand. You struggled in his grip, screaming and kicking at him before you resorted to roughly elbow him in the face.

He let go of you, feeling pain and stumbling back but made sure that to get to the gun you’re have to go through him first.

You were new at this, you didn’t bother to assess the situation or even try to combat him again before you were lurching for the gun that lay abandoned at his feet and he tackled you, trying to stop your struggling as you rolled around on the rough concrete of the roof.

“(Y/N) wait!”

“No!” You screamed, voice thick with tears, “No more waiting! That monster doesn’t deserve to live for even a second longer!”

You thrashed in his grip, reaching for the gun again and he grabbed your leg, dragging you back before you could wrap your fingers around it.

"Please! Just stop and listen for a second! For me!" He pleaded but you started sobbing when he pinned you down and you realized you couldn't move.

When you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, he couldn't help his own that began falling from his eyes.

"You know what he did to me. You know what they did!" You cried, "So, why are you stopping me?!"

"It isn't right, (Y/N). You can't do this! If you do then you're just as bad as them." His grip on your wrists got tighter, as if scared you would try to pull away again.

"It's too late for me." You told him, "My parents are already dead. I did it."

He knew that. But he wished he didn't have to hear it. You made a mistake, a decision, that couldn't be reversed. And you would have to live with it for the rest of the life.

"I'll let you go." He whispered. He knew what he was doing was wrong, he knew that he was going against his morals but still, he couldn't be the one to take you to prison.

You immediately stopped squirming, shocked, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. Your heart pounded in your chest; he was willing to let you go? After everything you did you him?

He pulled away, not moving from his place on the floor. Dick looked at you one last time and your throat closed at the sight of his heartbroken gaze.

"I hope we never get to see each other again." He choked out, voice strained and you screwed your eyes shut to keep yourself from crying.

You wanted to tell him that you loved him, one last time, but you knew that wasn't what he wanted to hear. You weren't going to disappoint him one more time that night.

"Good bye." You whispered, turning around and leaving. It would be the last time Dick would ever see you.

It was that night that Dick realized that the most dangerous people were those who had nothing left to lose. And his heart would break even more when he realized that you never considered him yours to lose.

He never even got to tell you he loved you.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

[fuck-customers]

I’m fucking screaming at my TV this morning “PAY A LIVING WAGE YOU BASTARDS AND YOU WONT HAVE THIS PROPBLEM!”

FLAGLER BEACH, Fla. —

Business owners in Flagler County say they are having a tough time doing business because of an employee shortage.

Members of the Flagler Beach Business Bureau said the problem is so dramatic they sent a letter to Gov. Ron DeSantis asking for help.

"They're the biggest employer in the world right now because they're paying people to stay home," Johnny Lulgjuraj said.

Lulgjuraj owns Oceanside Beach Bar and Grill in Flagler Beach. He's also the president of the Flagler Beach Business Bureau with about 125 members. The organization sent a letter to DeSantis this week writing: "There is a crisis brewing that needs your immediate attention."

The organization says due to ongoing unemployment benefits, businesses are struggling to hire employees.

"I can't blame anyone or fault anyone if they are able to stay home and collect what everyone says is free money," Lulgjuraj said.

In the letter to the governor, members wrote: "We know how to compete with and against each other, we compete with the weather and hurricanes but never had to compete with our government."

In Volusia County, restaurants are closing on certain days to give the staff they do have a break. Services and seating are being limited in some cases because of the employee shortage.

Owners say they struggled to come back after COVID-19 closures and half-capacity months.

Now that they are back, business is booming but owners say few are answering job ads.

"We spent more money on marketing to and advertising to potential employees and we haven't spent a dime on advertising for patrons," Lulgjuraj said.

The Flager Beach Business Bureau copied other state and federal lawmakers in the letter to the governor, hoping to get as much attention as possible. They say the worker shortage is unsustainable.

WESH Orlando

https://www.wesh.com/article/flagler-beach-business-bureau-letter-desantis/36042153

-Rodney

[weevil-beevil]

I don’t really know what happened so I doubt you can help but I can’t stop thinking about it. I should get started sorry, well I was in my room on my phone about to go to bed and I had recently started doing a night time routine.

Close the window, get changed, take a shower, dry my hair, brush my teeth, take melatonin, close the window, and go to bed. Some time later I wake up, its sad melatonin only helps you get to sleep and not stay asleep. I’m not sure what time it was because I didn’t really care and I don’t think you do either. I got up to get a granola bar and some water and put in my ear buds. As I was padding down the hall I noticed small grayish clouds of liquid every few feet. I was too tired and out of it to care or really think about it and continued to walk to the kitchen. I was poring water into a cup and looked up at the stairs the wrong time and froze up. There was something on the top of the stairs, something I can’t fully explain

but it looked like the general idea of a shadow even though I knew it wasn’t, the gray liquid that made it up was swirling as if each blob had a mind of its own, and the blobs were stretching out like tentacles towards me. I screamed and dropped the glass, I could do anything but sit down and try not to look at it. I don’t remember anything else after that, I might have fallen asleep but I don’t know how I could have after I saw that thing. My parents are pretty heavy sleepers so I don’t think anyone else had come down to see it. I wanted it to be a dream but I was still laying on the kitchen floor and my glass was shattered so it had to have happened. I didn’t know what to do so I just got changed and went to work at the coffee shop a few blocks down from my house but I didn’t forget. I don’t know what it wanted I don’t know if it even did anything but stand there. But it was nice to get closure.

[cuddlesslut]

Part FOUR : Chance Encounters

Atsumu x fem reader, Suna x fem reader, Hinata x fem reader

Tags: slight NSFW, Heavy Angst.

A/N: so this will NOT be the last chapter there will be more. Just like there are more choices now lol, don’t be shy to tell me who you route for. Also let me know if y’all want more NSFW I’m chill with writing it . ALSO slight canon divergence the timing on when Hinata comes back from Brazil is different, obviously in the Manga he’s only gone for two years. In this story it is longer. Hinata isn’t on MSBY yet. Also we are only caught up on 5 months since the dreaded birthday.

Part Three: Memories

Part Five: Friends

You spent your birthday in some hotel room. Sitting on the plush bed still in your dress not bothering to change your curl in to a fetal position as sobs raked through you. Your whole world crashed down on you everything you knew was a lie. Your phone lit up with one last birthday message from some distant relative. You see the time it’s now one in the morning you’ve been laying here for hours you can’t understand how you have any liquid in your body left to cry but still tears trail down your cheeks as you look at your lock screen. It’s a photo from three Christmas’s ago. Atsumu held you close from behind as you pose in front of a festive Christmas tree. Your eyes are shut tight from laughter as the setter places a kiss to your cheek bone, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. This was your favorite photo of the two of you, it always showed the realness in this candid shot. You remember laughing so hard from some cheesy joke he had just whispered in your ear. Your heart twists at the photo, a moment of anger slices through you. Was any of it real? You fling your phone at the wall effectively shattering the screen. You scream into the pillow. You wish you could feel numb to all of the emotions. But no ones that lucky. You aren’t sure when you feel asleep but you wake to find the remnants of tears stuck to your face. You move to the bathroom. You look like death. Your face is pale and eyes swollen and red. Your body aches from the fitful sleep you had. You grab a quick shower before putting on your comfiest pajamas and lay back down. All the energy is drained you look for your phone before remembering your fit of rage last night groan. You switch on the TV for some form of distraction but the gods must really hate you as it opens to a sports channel and you see him in all of his intensity standing on the volleyball court. Part of your brain pleads to change the channel but you must be a masochist as you watch him in all his usual glory. He commands the stadium as he goes up to serve. He looks perfectly fine like you hadn’t just walked out of his life. Like he hadn’t just ripped your world to shreds. You're finally turning the television off sitting in the silence thinking of the memories of your home. You ordered some takeout trying to settle the ache in your stomach. The food tasted bland, everything has lost its edge. The bed offers no comfort. The sunlight offers no warmth. It’s not long before you fall into another depression nap.

Waking up late in the evening you can’t stop your mind from making a stupid decision. But you miss him. You just want to see him. That’s how you end up outside of the door that leads to the home you shared with him. Trying to work up the courage to enter. His car was in his usual spot so you know he's here. A bitter thought run through you at the thought that while you were here he couldn’t be bothered to be home before two am at the earliest, yet the first night gone and here he is at home at ten o’clock. Silently you open the door. It was a mistake. You don’t make it even completely through the threshold before you hear the obnoxious moan and grunts, the sound of skin slapping. It makes you sick “OH Miya-San!” You hear some woman bellow out. You feel nauseous. You hurry out the door trying you best not to cause any noise to interrupt the activities in the house. You bend over you feel as though you’ll throw up right there on the spot. After calming yourself you make a way to a convenience store picking up a bottle of wine before heading back to you hotel room. There’s no way you’ll make it through the night sober.

The next morning you clean your self up before heading to the bank and clear out your joint account. Normally you’d feel bad taking the money but this cash was saved for your wedding and that would never happen now. You stopped by the phone store getting your own account not wanting anymore strings attached to the player. You spend the rest of your morning looking for a small affordable apartment. Luckily you were able to find one with in distance of your school and a reasonable price. It’s now the afternoon and you have to rush not wanting to be late for your class. Although it probably wouldn’t have made a difference if you had missed today, you barely pay attention. You find yourself back with the hotel walls.

You feel completely and utterly alone. You want nothing more to call your best friend or stop by Samu’s shop and cry on his shoulder while you eat some comfort food. But there is hesitation Suna was Atsumu's friend before he was yours, and you'll probably break down in tears just looking at Osamu he was his damn twin for heavens sake. What were you to them you wonder. You only got close to them because of the setter. Part of you wanted to believe that they cared about you and all of those friendships would still be there but you couldn’t. How could they want you around. You really question your place in their lives. It’s hard to trust in anything you had also believed Atsumu loved you and would never hurt you, yet that much was proven untrue. It's hard to trust in anything you feel or know. Another reason is your afraid of all of the memories you shared with them Atsumu ever present in those moments. You don’t want to think about him any more. You don’t want any remnants of that man In your life. While you want to believe Suna would be there for you, that he’d choose you. It was not a risk you were ready to take. You don’t think you could survive another heartbreak. It’s better to leave things as is, to cherish the good memories and not risk tainting them with pain.

It’s been two months since your birthday. You’ve moved into a quaint apartment. You got a job working at a little cafe to pay for rent. Between work and studying for your degree you try to keep yourself busy. It’s hard being on your own. You try to distract yourself with the things that brought you joy. Some days are better than others but all in all everything still hurts. Graduation is only a couple of months away so at least there’s something to look forward too. There are moments that come quite often that you miss your friends but you can’t bring yourself to reach out still untrusting. You look back sometimes and wonder where the lies stopped. You avoid everything that has to do his Atsumu Miya. Even the sight of a simple volleyball brings distress.

Three and half months later the cosmos played another prank on you. It was just another Friday afternoon and you were working in the cafe. You had just helped a young beautiful woman at the counter. She seemed so familiar but you couldn’t quit place it. You could see a puzzled look on her face. Then it hit you. You knew exactly who this woman was. She was the one with your ex fiancé at the restaurant that fateful night. The realization must have struck her too. Her eyes grew wide with worry. Although you weren’t expecting what she did next.

“I AM SO SORRY,” she basically yelling as she bows in front of you. “ I’m so sorry for the part I played in your pain.” She continues. You can tell she is really distressed. You coworkers and a few costumers look at the spectacle. Hating all of the attention now directed toward the both, you beg her to please stand.

“I need you to understand I had no idea, I would never have gone for a taken man.”

You sighed and sent a look to your coworker that you were going to take a quick break. “Would you like a cup of coffee,” you ask her. You never thought That you’d be sitting having coffee with the mistress of the only man you ever loved yet here you are. There’s an awkward silence for a moment. You don’t rush things you can see she’s also having a hard time trying to figure out where to start. You take a sip of your coffee as she finally speaks.

“My names Yuki,” she states.

“YN ,” you offer back.

“Well, umm YN I just want to say I am so sorry for wh-” you cut her off holding up your hand.

“You said you didn’t know, correct?” You send a glance at her raising your eyebrow. She nods.

“Are you still with him?” She sits up straight.

“Absolutely not,” she states with conviction “after you left I asked him what just happed and he explained who you were and I left.. well not with out dumping my drink in face" she gave a little giggle.

“Ha! Oh I wish I could have seen that,” you laughed picturing him drenched in the restaurant. “In that case you have nothing to apologize for, you are a victim of Atsumu’s selfishness as well. I’m sorry he put you through that.” She gave a sad smile you could see she was hurt too. The two of you spent a few more moments in each other’s comfort discussing the facts of his affair. It hurts to know that he had a legitimate relationship with Yuki but a part of you was glad to know. It was a small piece of closure to know how deep his transgressions ran, knowing it wasn’t just sex hurt even more. But it furthered your stance that he didn’t love you and if he had at one point the love had faded on his part some time ago. You spent the rest of your shift plagued with thoughts of you past.

After your shift you went home to change before heading out to your local bar. In your time alone you had taken solace in drinking with strangers. After dressing in an appealing yet comfortable outfit you headed out. You wanted to feel comfy and relaxed but that didn’t stop you from wanting to look nice. In your past visits it wasn’t uncommon for men to try and talk you up and while you did indulge in the compliments none had succeeded in getting you to return home with them. There had yet to be a guy who fully kept your attention away from your former lover.

You found your favorite spot at the bar, just far enough from the blaring music and smokers. You smiled at the bartender before ordering your usual. You sat there letting the liquor relax you as you listened to what music the DJ was playing tonight. Normally you stick to just drinks but after the day you had you need something to take the edge off. After downing a shot of tequila you notice a presence next to you.

“Is this seat taken,” the man smiled at you. You had never seen him here before and you know damn well you would have noticed him before. Although he wasn’t a giant like most of the men you knew in your life, he wasn’t excessively short either you could tell he’d still stand taller than you. You couldn’t lie the man was extremely defined and muscular, you swear his tanned thighs that you saw peeking from under his khaki shorts were bigger than your face. His skin was tanned you can tell from pleanty of time in the sun. He had strong jaw line but his most prominent feature was this bright mop of orange hair he tried to hide under a ball cap. He had a bright smile that reached his alluring brown eyes. It was safe to say he was very handsome. He tilts his head to the side a little smirk reaching his lips. It then you realized you had never responded and just been sitting here gawking.

“Um no it’s not uhh go ahead,” you stammered out feeling a blush creep on to your cheeks at your response. What is this feeling why are you acting like a school girl.

He takes the seat next to you ordering a beer then turning to you reaching out his hand. “ Shoyo Hinata,” he states.

You accept his hand giving it a light shake. “ YN LN,” you responded. “ I’ve never seen you here before Hinata-San,” you prod wanting to know about the stranger.

“Just Shoyo is fine,”he gives you another dazzling smile. “I actually just moved back to Japan,” he states “this is my first time at this bar , but with customers as beautiful as you I’ll definitely have to come more often.” Ohh hes smooth you think. You let out a light chuckle at his compliment although it’s fairly simple compared to some of lines you’ve heard it definitely has the desired affect on you.

“Well then Shoyo where are you traveling from?” Question not wanting the convo to stop.

“I just got back from Brazil,” he mused that signature smile never far from his face.

“Wow Brazil! That’s so far was it hard to be so far from home?”you questioned.

The conversation with Hinata flowed effortlessly. Pleanty of laughes shared as he told you countless stories of his time in South America. Being in conversation with him is like talking to the sun it’s so bright and happy. He does eventually mention playing beach volleyball and for a moment you mind thinks of your ex but it then you realized it was the first time since Sho made his appearance that you had thought of the setter. It felt nice to finally have your mind clearing from the twin. As of recent at any mention of volleyball you would have ended the convo making an excuse to leave, yet you didn’t want to, plus beach volleyball is completely different than regular volleyball you reason.

Time passes by as well do several drinks. You are by no means drunk just a little tipsy. Over the course of your talking the space between Hinata started to narrow. Right now you were so close you could smell his cologne and the slight minty scent of his breath. His hand caressed your elbow. Your breath hitched when he finally leaned in “do wanna get out of here?,” you can see his iris’s darken ever so slightly. “We can go back to my place,” he continued.

Several thoughts ran threw your mind in that moment. One, you were nervous, you hadnt been with anyone other than Atsumu. Two, you were sure you weren’t ready for a relationship but it was just sex it’s not like he’s asking on a romantic vacation. And three you wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against yours. “Absolutely.”

That’s how you got to where you are now. You barely made it through the threshold before Hinata had you pinned to the door. You were locked in a searing kiss. It was like he was stealing the air from your lungs. His hands roamed your figure before slipping under your blouse. “You are absolutely gorgeous,” he breaths before pressing a kiss under your jaw trailing down you neck. You place you hands on his shoulders trying to ground yourself. You let out a loud moan as he gives a bite to your shoulder while grabbing a hand full of you breast. He smiled into you neck with pleasure from the sounds you made. The two of you stumbled a bit as you started making your way to his room shedding clothes left and right. The door closed to the bedroom and you were ready for a mindblowing night.

Home Masterlist

Taglist is Open

Taglist: @animeboihoe @karlitabi-rrito @mutli-fandom-fanfic @comically-sleep-deprived @madmelle @momoinot @eggbutnotyolk @yunhosblackgf @6sakusa @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @a-fucking-simp @its-babybitch @sakusasonlywife @japanushiiiii @dekuspet @sredamancy @haikyuusimp91 @shoyosbitchh @far-off-dream @tsukkisfatsimp

[peachbear88]

So This is Love (Pt 3)

Inspiration: One day - Lovejoy

The moment you stepped out of Wanda's room, you were engulfed by the towering figure of Steve. "What on Earth was that? One moment she's trying to break your nose with a door, next minute she's staring at you like you're an angel sent from heaven."

"Gee, well maybe I am Rogers." You retort, pushing past him before slipping through your own bedroom door. "Good night Steve." You say, leaving him dumbfounded in the hallway.

You awake to find Tony, Nat and Peter, staring down at your drowsy face. "What the fu-!" You scream, throwing a random assortment of punches and kicks at the three faces hovering above you, catching Peter in the jaw while Nat and Tony deftly jump out of range of your attacks. "See, this is why we never do anything nice to surprise you." Nat quips, helping Peter to his feet. You rub your eyes groggily, trying to make sense of why the three of them were watching you sleep. "What the fuck are you doing in my room anyways?" You ask, still slightly drowsy. Tony's eyes widen, a small gasp escaping from his lips. "Kid... It's your mother-fuckin' birthday!" He screams proceeding to fire the confetti he had hidden behind his back. You look at him, unamused as confetti rained down, coating your room in the bright colored plastic strips. "It's too early for this shit." You mutter, flopping back down on your bed, only to be yanked out of your bedroom door by an overly enthused Tony and Peter with Nat trailing behind you.

"Come on! I've got so much planned for today!" Tony squealed, thrusting a notebook filled with activities for today. "He's more excited for my birthday then I am." You whispered to Peter, making him stifle a laugh as he scanned over your agenda. "Damn, he really outdid himself." Peter remarks as you turn the book towards yourself to see what he meant. "Small party at 8pm." You look at Peter. "That doesn't seem like too much. What do you mean he outdid himself?" Nat chuckled at your obliviousness as she pushed past you, grabbing a cup from the kitchen. "Clearly you've never been to a Stark party." You tilt your head, trying to connect the dots but clearly, morning isn't when you're at your best. "Well, if that's at 8pm, I'm going back to bed." You yawn, shuffling down the hallway towards your room but before you can even open your door, you feel a hand clamp around your wrist, dragging you towards the front door. "No way you're spending your birthday sleeping in. We're going on a run." You groan inwardly, giving a futile attempt at escaping. "But I'm not dressed for a run!" You protest. She aggressively pulls a sweater over your head and continues on her mission to get you out the door. "Now you are. No more excuses or I'll knock you out." You gulped, immediately shutting up. The moment Nat has effectively dragged you out the door, Steve, Clint and Tony burst back into the room. "Alright everyone, we've only got a few hours before Y/N internally dies and Nat is forced to bring her back so let's get to work everyone!" Tony screams as the rest of the group hustles around the compound, save for Wanda who watches as they prepare before returning to her room.

"My god... The moment I get inside, I'm showering because god knows what you'll do if I stick around." You groan as Nat pulls up in the compound's driveway, chuckling at your antics. As you push the door open, you notice how lively it is, with people left, right and centre. "Wha- I thought the party was at 8?" You sputter and Nat shakes her head. "Now you know what I mean. Nothing is what it seems." Tony runs up to you, beer bottle in hand. "Hey! Welcome to your party!!" He yells, clearly half-drunk already. You pull away slightly before yelling back at him. "I'm grateful for all the effort you guys put into this but I really want to shower first." His smile falls a bit but you cut him off before he can reply. "But after I'm done, rest assured I will be coming down here and getting drunk as hell!" You scream and he cheers, patting you on the back before you quickly dart towards your room.

When you emerge from your shower you opt for a plain dress shirt and black pants. You make your way downstairs to find the party still going strong as you slip past a drunk couple and make your way to the bar where Wanda and Nat stand, conversing away from the crowds of people. "Hello there. I see you two have gotten up close and intimate with the alcohol." You gesture to the shot glasses on the table. "That was actually all Nat. I don't drink." Wanda said, giving you a once over. "You look nice." She adds, opting for a small smile. You feel Nat's eyes on you as you give her a response. "Yeah well, you look pretty good too." You feel Wanda's eyes flick away from you and you notice her staring at a couple getting a little too close to the balcony. "Gosh, I better take care of that before they fall off and we have two dead bodies on our hands." She jokes before slipping away into the crowd. You turn back to Nat to find her giving you the most judgemental look you've possibly ever received in your entire life. "What?" You ask. She stares at you. "You and Wanda huh? You guys are cute together." You flush, the tips of your ears turning a bit red along with your cheeks. "Shut up and give me a drink Romanoff."

Wanda was now, once again wandering through the masses of people, her emerald eyes scanning the crowds attempting to find you. She sidles up to Nat who's immersed in a conversation with Thor. "Have you seen Y/N?" Nat glances up. "You mean that Y/N?" She asked, pointing upwards with a shot glass. Wanda looks to where Nat was indicating to see you, most likely drunk, singing on a table.

"And stop!"

"Cause why'd you have to kill my cat?"

"Why'd I have to take you back?"

"Time and time I play the empath."

"I don't know why"

"There's some lights on in an empty pub,"

"A toilet with the seat left up,"

"It's closure like a deer in headlights."

"One day, I know that you will be there,"

"One day, I'll focus on the future, maybe,"

"One day- Oh baby, isn't life so FU-CKING IN-CON-SISTENT!"

Cheers go up around the room as you keep singing, your eyes locked on Wanda's. Eventually the song ends with you face planting on the floor as Wanda rushes forward and catches you in the nick of time. "I think she's done for the night." Wanda excuses you and herself before helping you to your room. She plops you down on the bed and makes her way to the kitchen before returning with a hot wet towel which she presses to your forehead. She stares at your face, your cheeks tinged with pink. "Why do you treat me differently? Why do you care so much?" She mutters, not expecting a response from you. You force an eyelid open. "Because I know what it feels like." She jumps, before cautiously sitting back down on your bed. "I know what it feels like to love only to lose and go through a vicious cycle time and time again." She presses her hand on your forehead, presumably checking your temperature. "That still doesn't explain why." You turn to face her, your face still maintaining a drowsy look but your eyes appear to have some clarity. "Because I want to save you from having to go through that cycle again. I want you to have the choice to escape from that sinkhole. I want you to be different from me." You whisper before leaning in and capturing her lips in a soft kiss. She sputters, pushing you off her and rushing to the doorway. "You don't know me. I'm not like you and I don't need your help." She glares at you before slamming the door shut. You groan before flopping back down onto the bed, knowing that you fucked up.

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

That's it for this part! Of course, feedback is always welcome. In fact, I'd really, really love for some feedback. Hope you enjoyed this part!

[buckyssoldat]

Closure (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Summary: She has feelings for her best friend Steve, but now it’s too late. He’s already with someone else. All that is left to do is get closure.

Word count: 1659

Requested: Yes

Warnings: fluff and angst, strong language, cheating

A/N: This was inspired by episode seven, season two, of ‘Friends’. Hope everyone likes it, especially the person who requested it!! Also, please check my series ‘Forsaken - The Fallen Soldier’. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :)

She and Steve had been friends for almost five years. They had met through her brother, who worked for the Avengers as an analyst. At first, he set them up on a date, thinking his sister and Captain America would be a great couple, but they decided they would be better as friends and not lovers, even though that was not what Steve wanted. When he first saw her, he immediately fell in love with her and, after getting to know her better, he liked her even more. But she just wanted to be friends and he had to respect her wishes. That was why he never told her about his feelings. She was his best friend, and he didn’t want to ruin the beautiful friendship they had built. But what Steve didn’t know was that she started to fall for him too.

Years passed and Steve tried to move on. He met a beautiful girl named Rachel when he was out grocery shopping. She was kind and beautiful, and soon their friendship turned into a serious relationship.

“I heard Rachel is gonna move in with Steve” Natasha confided in her, “I accidentally overheard him asking her to move in.”

Her heart broke into pieces. She knew Rachel and Steve were getting serious, but she didn’t think it was that serious.

“Accidentally?” she asked with a half-smile on her face, trying to hide her broken heart.

“Okay, not accidentally” Natasha confessed with a chuckle.

“I’m happy for them. Rachel is a very nice person” she said with tears already filling her eyes.

“Come on, you don’t have to lie to me” Nat told her, “Besides, you couldn’t lie to me even if you wanted to. I’m a spy, remember?”

“I…” she started, “I just… Now is too late, okay? Steve is happy with Rachel. I’m not gonna ruin that just because of some stupid feelings that will go away in a couple of weeks.”

“I know for a fact Steve likes you. He would be happier with you…” Nat trailed off.

“No, he doesn’t like me and it doesn’t matter now” she got up from her seat and put on her jacket, “I have a date tonight.”

The spy raised her right eyebrow, “You do?”

“Yes, I do” she lied. There was no date. The plan she had for that night was go out to a bar and hopefully find someone there to take home with her and make her forget Steve for one night. “I have to get home. Need to pick an outfit for tonight.”

“Make sure to call me in the morning!” Nat yelled as her friend left her apartment.

She decided to walk from Nat’s apartment to hers. It would be a good opportunity to think about what she was gonna do and what she was gonna wear. The bar she opted was one that was just down her street – if the night didn’t end up how she planned, she could always walk home. As for the outfit, she decided to wear a tight red dress that ended on her mid-thigh with black high heels. She had only worn it once and it was for an Avengers party that Steve invited her. Sam told her that night that she looked amazing in that dress.

After eating dinner, she got dressed, put on a bit of makeup and fixed her hair. Once she was done, she made her way to the bar. When she arrived there, she opted to sit in one of the stools near the bar and waited for someone to approach her so she could put her plan into action.

As the hours passed, she talked to countless people, occasionally flirting with some of them, but there was a problem – none of them were Steve.

“I’m so stupid” she mumbled as she took another sip of her drink.

“Did you say anything?” the bartender, who was cleaning some of the glasses, asked her.

“I said I’m so stupid” she repeated.

“I’m sure you’re not stupid” the man tried to reassure her as he continued doing his job.

“No, I am” she pointed at her glass so he could fill it up once again, “I came here to find someone who could make me forget this guy for one night, but I keep turning everyone down because none of them are Steve.”

“I’m assuming you’re in love with this guy Steve, right?” she nodded her head.

“But Steve is in love with this beautiful and nice girl and they’re gonna move in together and now it’s too late and---”

“Look” the bartender interrupted her, “I’ve been in your place before. It sucks, but you need to move on. You need to tell him that you’re over him, and for that to happen, you need closure.”

“Closure!” she yelled, “That’s it! I need closure! You’re an amazing bartender, did you know that?” the woman opened up her purse and took out a bill that could pay for her drinks and also tip the nice bartender, “Keep the change. Closure! Ah! Thank you!”

As soon as she was out of the bar, she grabbed her phone from her bag and started dialling Steve’s number. After ringing for a few times, he didn’t pick up, so she decided to leave him a voicemail instead.

“Hey Steve! It’s your best friend. You’re probably with your lovely Rachel right now…” she started pacing back and forth, “And that’s fine. Everything’s fine, really. You two make a great couple. I’m really happy for you, Steve. You might be wondering why I’m calling you at this hour” she let out a small chuckle, “I just wanted to say that I am over you. I’m over you, Steve. And that, my friend, is what they call closure. Gotta go now. Bye!”

 The next morning, she woke up with the biggest headache. Groaning, she got up from her bed and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. After it was done, she sat on her couch while drinking it. Out of nowhere, her front door was opened.

“Hello?” she heard Steve’s voice approaching the living room. “I tried to call you, you know? Nat told me you went out last night and I got worried. Especially after that voicemail you left me.”

“Voicemail?” she questioned, not remembering calling Steve. “Oh fuck.” Memories from the previous night started filling her mind – rejecting people who flirted with her, the conversation with the bartender about closure, and, finally, the voicemail she left him. “Steve, I’m really sorry. I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was do-”

“You had feelings for me?” Steve interrupted her.

“Well, you had feelings for me too!” she tried to defend herself, “Nat told me.”

“You know what? I can’t deal with this right now. Rachel is waiting for me to help her move her things into my apartment. I can’t do this, I can’t.”

Steve stormed out of her apartment, leaving her speechless. The last thing she wanted was to ruin their friendship and that was precisely what she had just done.

 After crying for a couple of hours, she called Nat and asked if she could go over to her apartment. She was the best at giving advice and maybe she would help her get out of this situation without hurting herself anymore. Once she got there, the front door was opened. She took it as a sign to come inside, so she let herself in.

“Nat?” she called, but no answer. As she made her way to the kitchen, she noticed someone standing in front of the counter. “Steve? I’m gonna kill Nat…”

“Rachel didn’t move in” he blurted out.

“Hum, I don’t know what to say, Steve…”

“You had no right to tell me you had feelings for me” he said, raising his voice a bit, “I was doing great with Rachel before I found out about you. For fuck’s sake, we were gonna move in together!”

“Oh, so you think it was easy for me to see you with Rachel?” she raised her voice too and got closer to him, “Seeing you all happy with her, moving in together and everything!”

“Maybe if you said something before I met Rachel we wouldn’t be in this situation right now!” he took a step closer to her too.

“I didn’t fucking know I was falling for you back then, Steve! What about you, huh? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…” Steve paused for a bit, trying to find a plausible reason to explain why he didn’t tell her about his feelings, but he didn’t find one. “I’m happy with Rachel and I don’t need this!”

“Great!” she yelled at him, “if you don’t need this, why don’t you just leave?!”

“Fine!”

Once again Steve stormed out, leaving her all alone in Nat’s apartment.

“I don’t know how I ever had feelings for a dick like you!” she screamed so he could still hear her from the hallway, “Now I got fucking closure!”

Slowly sinking down on the ground, she started crying her eyes out. She had ruined her friendship with Steve for good. There was no way they could ever forgive each other.

Steve stopped his tracks once he heard the sobs coming from Nat’s apartment. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. He made his way back to the apartment and found her crying on the floor with her back pressed against the counter. Once she saw him, she quickly got up and cleaned the tears that were running down her cheeks. Without saying a word, he went to her, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer to him, finally pressing their lips together. She immediately kissed him back, putting her hands behind his neck.

“Steve…” she whispered against his lips after they pulled away from the kiss.

“Now we both got closure.” He smiled before he kissed her again.

masterlist

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

MAYBE IT’S CALLED FATE

Prompt: Request, by the ever so lovely @auawdo Thank you so much for your request, pumpkin! I hope you’ll like it

Word Count: Long

Pairings: Seth Rollins x Reader

Warnings: Angst, smut(implied), cursing

Tag: @marlananicole , @theworldofotps , @new-zealand-chic , @yungbludjazz360

Notes: This has gained Seth a bigger space in my heart 🥰 Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) You can check them out on my Masterlist. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

PRESENT DAY

Staring out the big windows that display the snowy weather of Davenport, Iowa. I retraced the journey that lead me here...

FLASHBACK - 8 YEARS AGO

“Y/N? Where are you, babe?”

From the bedroom I heard the loud thump of his duffel bag being tossed on the floor

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking for y- Are you ok?” He urgently asks, running to me

“Seth, I need to talk to you”

“Uh Oh, those words are an omen for bad news” He whispered

“Please, seat down” I ask and he oblige

“I have to do this quickly, like a band-aid” I murmur to myself

“What will you have to do it quickly, Y/N?”

“I can’t stay here”

“What do you mean? You don’t want to live in Iowa anymore? That’s ok, we can move to Florida if-“

“No, Seth... I mean, I don’t think we should be together anymore” I whispered with tears in my eyes

“You wanna break up? But why? Have I done something wrong? Because if I did I’m sure we can work it out a-“

“No...”

“You don’t love me anymore?” Seth asked with hurtful eyes

“I do, I do but-“

“I love you too, Y/N. So, end of story!” He huffed

“Seth, I wish there could be an easier way-“

“Why are you doing this? What changed your mind? Did you fell in love with someone else? What is it, Y/N?” Seth screamed

“I don’t think it’s fair ok? Babysitting while I’m injured is not fair to you, having to stay here waiting for you to come home is not fair to me, holding you back from enjoying yourself with other women is not fair to you and wondering if you have been sleeping with other women night after night is not fair to me. So let’s stop it before we hurt each other”

“What? First of all, I don’t babysit you, I TAKE CARE of you because I love you! Second of all I NEVER cheated on you and you know that. I FaceTime you every night until I fall asleep, just so we don’t feel lonely, because I know how hard this can be! I’ve been on your shoes...And for the record, you’re the one who’s hurting me with this breakup bullshit thing”

Seth tugs on his hair from frustration, pacing around the room

“I’m sorry, but is for the best Seth” I caress his beard, memorizing every feature of his face

“These are the painkillers, the stress and the injury speaking not you...It’s not you, right baby?” He asked in despair

“I’ll always love you Seth, you’re an incredible man and someday you’ll find a very lucky girl who deserves you”

“No, I want you! You deserve me” He grabs my suitcase, trying to pull it out of my hand “You’re not leaving, I won’t allow it. You’re not going anywhere” Seth tugs on the suitcase.

“Seth, please don’t do this” I beg

“No” He sobs “Please don’t do this to me, please don’t leave me, Y/N. I need you, I love you, I can’t live without you” Seth grabbed my face softly in his hands “Please tell me that you’re kidding me, that this is a prank...Please Y/N this can’t be true. Tell me you still love me, that we’ll be together! I can’t-“ Seth began to cry uncontrollably

“Shhhh...I’m sorry, baby. You’ll be fine. I promise you, you’ll be ok” I try to comfort him

I laid with him on his bed one last time, enjoying his bearded cheek on my chest one last time. Running my fingers through his hair gently, reassuring him that it will all be fine. When his sobs were replaced by a soft snoring, I stand up from the bed, covering Seth’s body with a blanket. Pecking his lips for the last time, I grabbed my suitcase, slowly closing the bedroom door and leaving behind what it used to be my home.

FLASHBACK - 7 YEARS LATER

The last thing I wished was see him again, the last thing I wanted was to end up in SmackDown with him and of course that God was in his jokester mood today and decided to deliver me this little joke called fate.

“Y/N? I can’t believe it!” Roman ran to me, giving me a bear hug and successfully spinning me around the arena’s hallway.

“Oh Lord, calm down you Samoan beast! Jesus” I laughed loudly

“I didn’t knew you were back! Why didn’t you told me?”

“I didn’t wanted to draw to much attention” I trailed off

“Because of Seth?” Roman asked and I just gave him a sad smile as an answer

“You can’t hide forever, Y/N. You know that, right?”

“I know... I just need a few days”

“Or not” Roman said, pointing with his chin at someone behind me

I felt his presence before I could see him

“Y/N?”

I turn around to meet his gaze, it had a mixture between surprise, pain and...love?

“Hello, Seth”

“Oh my God, it’s been so long” He reaches his arms for a hug but ended up changing his mind “What are you doing here?”

“I needed a job, so” I laughed lightly

“I thought I would never see you again”

“Looks like destiny has other plans” I mumbled

......................................................................

For the next two weeks I bump into Seth everywhere I go: arena, hotel, gym, convenience store, liquor store, diner, bar, even at a club’s bathroom line! The chemistry between us was still there, awake. Even after all those years my body called for him like some sort of drug. And I would be lying if I said that I didn’t wanted him back, not just for the sex but for everything else.

I’m at the local Starbucks when I meet him again (it’s the fourth time today), I had to put an end to this so I decided to talk to him about everything that happened in the past.

“Sure, we can talk about it” He shyly answered

We chose a hidden bench at the local park to sit down

“Thank you, for agreeing with this”

“It’s fine, Y/N” Seth weakly smiles

“Well, first of all, I would like to apologize to you. For everything I did back then...I wasn’t thinking straight and I don’t know what took ahold of me to have made such a dumb decision”

“And it took you 7 years to realize that?” He asked, sounding hurt and mad at the same time

I shook my head “No, to be honest with you, I regretted my decision when as soon as I got home”

“Why didn’t you called me then?”

“Because I thought you would be angry at me, wouldn’t want to see me or talk to me. The mere thought of you rejecting me was unbearable” I whispered

“And how do you think I felt?” Seth spat “Do you think it was fun for me to wake up and find out you were gone? I called you Y/N, I texted you, I called your brother, your sister, even your mother! I sent you emails, I went to your house, I tried everything I could to get you to talk to me. Just so at least I could get some type of closure, but you never gave me that opportunity. You shut me off, pretended I never existed, erased me from your life and now you expect me to do what? To welcome you back in my arms? To say that I missed you and that I was waiting for you all those years? Is that what you want? For me to stop my life completely just so you can enter it again and ruin it again once you decide you‘ve had enough of me?”

The only thing I could do was to remain silent, I knew Seth and I knew that sooner or later he would end up lashing out and saying everything he always wanted to say for those past 7 years, so I just sat there and took it like a big girl even with the tears rolling down my eyes. Afterall, I was the one who brought that to myself.

“I can’t do that, I gave you too much power the first time and I will not give you the same power again! When you left I hit rock bottom Y/N, my life was partying, booze and pussy. I almost lost my job because of that! Do you know how many nights I spent awake thinking of you? Crying over you? Trying to understand what had I done wrong for you to leave me like that? Do you know how many women I fucked thinking about you? Wishing they were you? Wishing to wake up in the morning and find you laying there by my side? Wishing that it was all a nightmare? Now you come here, 7 years after the shit storm and say that you’re sorry and that the thought of me rejecting you was unbearable so you just left? You know what, Y/N? Fuck you! Fuck you and your shitty apology, I don’t need this bullshit! I’m better without you, now I can fuck whoever I want, whenever I want. Without having to worry about their incapacity of having a relationship because of their stupid and childish commitment issues” He stood up and left

And now, by the irony of fate, I’m the one who gets abandoned now.

......................................................................

I got his message that day in the park, he doesn’t want to talk to me, so I do exactly that. I leave him alone. I never met him at random places anymore after that day.

It has been a month since I came back and any hope I had of settling things with Seth went down the drain.

I’m finishing zipping up my duffel bag when someone knocked on the locker room door

“Yeah? It’s open” I screamed

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

My heart stopped when I heard Seth’s voice

“Hi, umm sure. What’s up?” I ask

Seth closed the door behind him

“Can we sit down?” He points to the small leather couch

I nodded, sitting down by his side

“I wanted to apologize to you” He started “The things I said to you that day at the park were unnecessary, I should’ve dealt with it in a better way”

“It’s ok, Seth. We both know I deserved” I weakly smile at him

“No, you didn’t! Even though I was confused and hurt, I didn’t had the right to do that to you. I truly am sorry”

“It’s ok, buddy. Apology accepted” I patted his knee and he holds my hand there

“I’m going to ask you something, but I need you to be completely honest with me, ok?”

“Of course”

“Do you still love me?” He asked and my whole world stopped

I looked down to my feet and honestly answered “I never stopped loving you, Rollins. No matter how hard I tried”

His only response to me was a cheerful grin.

1 YEAR LATER - PRESENT DAY

“What are you doing staring out the window, baby? It’s fucking freezing! Come back to bed” Seth’s arms circle around my waist, trying to pull me back to bed

“I’m enjoying the snowy morning view” I chuckled

“Meh” He scoff “I have something more interesting for you to enjoy if you come back to bed with me” Seth smirked

“What possibly could be nicer than this view”

“Hmmm, I don’t know...maybe something thick and warm that slides in and out of you, maybe?” He bites my neck and I can’t help the little moan that escaped my lips

“That sounds fun” I grab him through his boxers, teasing him

Seth moans “Oh you’re gonna regret that”

He picked me up in his arms right before tossing me back onto his bed....

Please if you’re comfortable with it let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Take My Hand (Part Three)

Summary: feelings are hurt, mistakes are made, and someone wakes up in the wrong bed (one of three four ??? parts) 

Pairings: Rafael Barba x Reader, Sonny Carisi x Reader

Word Count: 6,992

Song:  It wasn't right / The way it all went down / Looks like you know that now (closure by taylor swift) 

Warnings: T, spoilers for 19x13 (the undiscovered country) and use of some dialogue from that episode, infant death, some swearing, drinking, drunken behavior, so much angst, 

A/N: thank you for @bucky-of-the-opera​ and @laneygthememequeen​ for letting me bounce ideas off and being such amazing beta readers. and thank you to @qvid-pro-qvo​ for the support and enthusiasm as i muddled my way through these scenes. And thank you to all of you for reading :) 

“Another,” you slam your glass on the table, “please.” 

“Are you sure you want another?” the bartender raised an eyebrow at you, the glasses lined around you. 

“I asked for another,” you hiss, your voice raising and falling, the sound making the ache in your head sharp, a knife dragging across your forehead from temple to temple. 

The drink lands in front of you, "I'm cutting you off," you click your teeth together, your fingers pressed the cool glass, the only thing grounding you, "hey, hey," she snaps her fingers, "did you drive here?" 

You scoff, "Who drives in New York?" The remark doesn't come off as biting as you want, words slurring. 

The bartender taps on your phone, lying on the counter amongst the glasses, "call someone to pick you up. We're closing. Don't go home by yourself." 

You sip at your drink, your throat numb to any burn alcohol could provide you — the thrill gone, only left the bitter depressant you needed to relieve the pain. But there was no amount that could relieve this pain because one word brought it back — Rafael. 

A wound that had scabbed over so times could still bleed, and this pain came with no adrenaline to numb it. But nothing could numb this pain — the one searing in your hollow chest, your heart long forlorn the moment you stepped from that office — no, it was earlier. Was it the moment you chose to love him? No, maybe it was the moment you kissed him, sunk into those eyes made for sinking, and you stood at the helm, unwavering. Because, after all, it was your heart to sink. 

You loved him — you loved him even when he was completely unloveable in his behavior — your adoration for toleration. You loved him even when you didn't want to — when you knew he didn't deserve it, when you deserved more. You loved him, but you didn't know why. 

And you wished you never did. 

The bartender snaps her fingers again, "Hey, please call someone because I don't want you leaving here alone." 

But you missed him, you scrolled through your contacts, finding his name so easily — his contact picture was of him in the office, sitting beside you on his couch with a mouthful of dumplings, irritated by something Buchanan had said. The next picture on your camera roll if you remembered was him lunging for your phone, and the third was of him kissing you, the taste of soy sauce on his lips. 

Was the last time you kissed him the last time? Would it be the last time you touched him? The last time you slept beside him? 

Your finger hovered over the call button — it would be easy to call him, to talk to him, to love him. But, your thumb slides right, going back to your contacts, just because it was easy didn't mean it was right. 

Tears slid down your face, as you downed the rest of your drink. 

But you needed to call someone — someone you trusted. 

Sonny did not expect to spend his Thursday night (or was it Friday morning?)  like this — not at Forlini’s, not out at 3 AM, and certainly not picking you up. 

You weren't exactly clear about much on the phone — between the slurring and the mumbling he was only able to make out the address and "can you pick me up?"

He hurried down the street, sidestepping several burly men, who jeered at him as he passed by, his nerves shot at this point. He had seen at least eight of the men he's passed in lockup, and here you were in the thick of it. 

What were you thinking? 

He finds the place with ease, stepping into it, finding the bartender wiping up a table by the front. Irritated, she jerks her head towards the bar, "over there, the last drink hit hard, so you might have some trouble getting home, buddy." 

His brow wrinkles, "What do you—" 

"Sonny!" your voice is high, throwing up your hands in a to-do, as you stumble off the stool, while Sonny barely moves in time to catch you. 

“Whoa, whoa, are you okay, counselor?” you pout, sighing loudly, as you gently take his hands off of you, instead intertwining your fingers with his. 

“I told you to call me by my name, Sonny,” he clears his throat, feeling his ears burn as you tugged him closer, peering up at him with a wide grin, “or should I start calling you Detective Carisi?” your voice low and teasing, he leans away. 

Okay, he bites his lip, stepping away from you. 

What had he gotten himself into? 

After several minutes of bargaining, bartering, and bribes, he was able to convince you to leave the bar, much to his (and the bartender’s) relief. But then again, the problems kept coming. He pulls you outside, and you’re shivering, your suit jacket clearly not enough. He pulls off his sweatshirt, handing it to you, you open your mouth to protest, but when another strong wind blows through, and you pull it over your shoulders. 

He glances away, but his eyes wander back to you — his ears burning at the sight of you in his clothes. 

No, no, this was not the time, he chided himself. 

“Come on, let’s get you home, sweetheart,” and you pull away from him. 

“I can’t go home,” he crosses his arms, struggling to keep his temper even at 2 in the morning, his patience worn away to nothingness in that bar. 

“Sweetheart,” you shake your head — now you were just being stubborn, “the bar is closed, you have to go home.” 

“No, I can’t go home,” and he sees the tears in your eyes, streaking down your face, and you’re shaking your head, arms crossed, “I can’t, Sonny. Please.” 

And his irritation turns to fear — he’s seen this before, too many times, far too many times, a sinking feeling in his gut, “What happened?” 

“Sonny—” your voice breaks, it was a blurred line between anger and fear — and he didn’t know what he felt right now — but he knew he was going to lose his mind if you didn’t tell him what was going on right now. 

“Did someone do something to you?” you shake your head, “did they touch you—” 

“No, Sonny, no,” you wipe your tears away, sniffing, “I just broke up with the guy I was seeing. The one I told you about. It wasn’t working,” you gave a watery chuckle, “it never worked to begin with.” 

He says your name, his anger simmering, “I’m—” 

You wave him off, before sighing, “I just can’t deal with him right now. And if I go home,” your voice shakes, “he might show up there and I can’t do that. I can’t.” 

Sonny feels his heart thump against his chest, reaching for your hand, squeezing it, “Then we won’t.” 

He takes you to his place, it doesn’t take long to get to — it takes longer to get you out of the cab, fully asleep on his shoulder by the time they arrive. His arm around you, supporting you, he takes you inside, “You take the bed, okay? I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” you mumble, leaning against him as he unlocks the door, hating how he liked the way you felt against him, and he sighs. No, it feels like he does. You were his friend first — anything he felt was irrelevant. He shut the door behind him. 

Until it wasn’t. But it wouldn’t be relevant — not tonight. 

“Come on,” he helps you to his bedroom, having you sit at the edge of the bed, kneeling as he takes your shoes off for you. He looks up to find you staring at him, eyes glassy, “What’s wrong?” 

“You really care about me, don’t you, Sonny?” and he tilts his head. 

“Of course I do,” he frowns, “what do you—” 

And you kiss him. It’s brief, but in his mind, it feels like forever — your lips were as soft as he thought they would be. He tastes the alcohol on your tongue, but that’s nothing compared to you. 

He had never wanted to feel this way. 

When did he first feel it? 

When you had comforted him about Coles? No, maybe when you asked him to join you for a drink after shadowing? Or maybe it was the moment he saw you in your office, when you told him to call you by your name — when you called him by his. 

He pulls away, and you sit, breath hot against his, whispering so quietly he barely hears it even in the silence, “I wish he cared about me the way you did.” 

And he supposed it didn’t matter — helping you lay down — because it didn’t mean anything anyway. 

Your first memory is regret, followed by pain — in that order — a sharp pain in your head stirs you into consciousness and into terror because, not only were you surely going to die, but in a stranger’s home. A knife would have been kinder than a hangover — when was the last time you had one? Have you ever had one before? 

Your stomach lurched — you didn’t need to think about that right now. 

You pushed yourself up, mind swimming and muscles screaming, your eyes surely bench pressing a thousand pounds to stay open, what the fuck happened— 

The picture on the bedside table came into focus — was that— 

It was Sonny with his niece, both their smiling faces staring back at you — almost mocking the situation you had gotten yourself into. 

What had you done last night? 

You groan softly, as the memories come back to you, as your hand clutches at your forehead, slowly sliding down, — the fight, the bar, the drinking, calling Sonny to get you and— your fingers brush your lips— 

Fuck. 

You kissed him — you had kissed Sonny. Flashes of it came back — you rocking forward to kiss him, his lips soft against yours, pulling away from you. Tears burned your eyes — congrats, you had somehow managed to blow up your life in so many ways in one night. 

You were the worst — the worst. 

Was this rock bottom? You didn’t know you could fall so far — to the point where you didn’t recognize yourself — drinking to forget, hurting the people who cared, and throwing it away for someone who didn’t even care. 

No more, you wiped your tears away, reaching for your purse, pulling a pen and notepad from your bag, this needed to end. 

You deserved more. 

You always did. 

You walk into your apartment, stepping inside to the sound of someone walking around, and you tense, your phone clenched in your hand, glancing around — and then you hear his voice. 

Breathless, he steps out from the kitchen, and he whispers your name in the silence of the morning. His arms around you in a moment, your arms at your sides“I’ve been calling all morning — I came here and you weren’t here, I thought something had—” he breaks off, seemingly able to breath again, but you couldn’t — you never could with him. 

“What are you doing here?” you whisper, breaking away from him, taking several steps back. 

“What do you mean? I called you — i couldn’t find you—” 

“You don’t need to find me — it’s over,” your voice broke, crossing your arms, “leave.” 

And his eyes are drawn to your sweatshirt, hanging low on your body, and his eyes narrow, “Were you with someone else?” You blink, realizing you still had Sonny’s sweatshirt on from last night, “were you cheating on—” 

“Cheating?” you bark out a laugh, raising your eyebrows, “cheating on who? On what? We’re nothing to each other, Rafael. It was true last night, and it’s true today.” 

“This isn’t nothing — we aren’t nothing,” he shakes his head, “what do you want? Do you want a relationship? Tell me, I’ll do it.” 

“I want you to leave,” you swallow thickly, “It’s over, Raf, we can’t do this anymore.”

“I’m telling you I’ll do anything—” he whispers your name in the silence of your heart breaking, he steps forward and you step away — the gap between you a chasm, a lake made of your own tears, “I love you.” 

You shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks, “No, no—” 

“I do,” he pleads, “I do, mi amor.” 

“You love me until you don’t,” you meet his gaze, emerald eyes shiny with tears, “I can’t do that anymore — I need more, I deserve more.” 

He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, “This is it?” 

“It is,” he steps forward, and you don’t step away this time, his warm cupping your cheek for the last time, your tears rolling over the knuckles of his fingers. 

“Can I kiss you goodbye?” he asks — and you squeeze your eyes shut, nodding. His breath is warm against your lips, his touch comforting and familiar. Your lips meet — he feels like home, his arms around your waist, splayed and lingering as if they never wanted to leave — and you didn’t want them to. Your lips part and meet over and over, until you think he’s stolen the very breath from your lungs. Your fingers fisted in his shirt, and you don’t know if you want to push him away or pull him closer. 

You pull away — and it takes everything in you, a sob stuck in your throat — your foreheads brushing, and his hands reach for you as you pull away, but you brush past him, “Please go,” your back to him, you don’t watch him leave, instead hearing his footsteps against the floor, the door creaking open, and a pause. 

“I’m sorry, mi amor.” 

And the door clicks shut, and you sink to the floor, your back to the bottom of your couch, as you cry silently. 

You were too. 

Sonny wakes up to the sound of a door closing. 

He curses under his breath, throwing off his blanket haphazardly. He nearly trips over himself trying to leave his apartment. But his stumbling was not fast enough to catch you — already long disappeared down the stairs of his apartment. He walks back to his room, finding his bed made with wrinkled sheets — the same ones you had kissed him on — a note in your place: 

Sonny, 

I’m so sorry. I was in a bad place, I wasn’t myself, but it’s no excuse for how I treated you — making you pick me up, take care of me, and kissing you — and everything in between. It was a mistake. I can’t change what I already did, but I’m sorry for everything — and I won’t burden you again like that — ever. 

‘It was a mistake.’

Sonny stares at the note — finger brushing against the wet splotch on the paper. And he couldn’t help but think there was another door that closed last night — and he wondered if there would ever be another chance. 

There was a sharp knock at Rafael’s door, and Jack McCoy stuck his head in, “Counselor, do you have a minute?” Rafael barely looks up from his work — his late start and no sleep did him no favors, he was already buried in work and you were in motions hearings all morning on top of it. 

Not that he wanted to see you anyway — not after this morning. 

All night he had waited for you — he called, he texted, he left voicemails — he did everything but send you a fax. You always teased him that his propensity for sending a fax made his age show — and he always replied to that with a kiss and a grin with a promise to show you that with age came experience. 

And now he would never kiss you again. 

He looked for you too — he spent hours pacing his apartment until he couldn’t take it anymore — and he started to look. He checked with your friends, he looked in at the office, and he finally checked on your place. You had given him a key before — for emergencies — but usually it was for late nights he would crawl in beside you, his arms curled around your middle. And you would lean into his touch, a sigh on your lips, even as you slept. 

And now he would never sleep next to you again. 

“Rafael?” McCoy asked, and Rafael snapped from his stupor, rubbing his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night,” he leaned back away from his work, clearing his throat, “what was it that you needed from me, Jack?” 

“I just wanted to inform you that your A.D.A. has resigned with a week’s notice,” and he blinked, his heart slowly caving in upon itself, “I allowed as such since I figured with the case flow, we should be fine for a week with a man down, but if you need any help, please let me know and I”ll have another A.D.A. assist you.” 

He nods, dumbstruck, as Jack turns to go, “Wait, Jack,” he looks back, “was there a reason given?” 

He offers a sad and knowing smile, “Needed a change, new opportunities — a need to grow,” he slips his hands into his pockets, “everyone does, son.” 

“Of course, thank you.” and there he knew —  he knew that you had outgrew him. 

And it was his fault. 

It doesn’t take long for the news to spread across SVU — and you’re careful to drop by on a day that Sonny won’t be there, shame still lingering in your chest about that night. You knew that you should face him — you knew you should talk to him, but you knew that it would only make things harder. And you didn’t want to do that to him. 

But mostly you didn’t want to do it to yourself. 

“We’re going to miss you around here, counselor,” Liv squeezes your shoulder, offering you a warm smile. 

“Won’t be the same without you — who else is going to get that stick out of Barba’s ass?” Fin asks, and you chuckle, but his name carves another fresh wound into your skin, lingering just as his touch did, “but seriously, you ever need anything—” 

“I’ll take you up on that, Fin,” 

“Seriously, anything you need,” Amanda smiles, and you nod, biting your lip. 

“Could you actually do something for me?” you hold up a bag, “can you give this to Sonny? He lent it to me the other night at the office.” 

Amanda frowns, “Don’t you want to tell him goodbye yourself?” 

“I will, but I just want to make sure he gets this back first, before I forget,” you lie — and you hope she can’t see through it, see through you, but it feels like everyone can — skin rubbed raw from the last week, red and exposed and fragile, “please?” 

“Of course,” she takes it without another word, but you can still feel her watching you as you leave the precinct for the last time, hands in your pockets. 

It’s a large change — new job, new place, and new borough. And it takes some time. 

You find another job relatively easily — the alumni network at your alma mater and your experience as a prosecutor makes it simple for you to step into place at a boutique defense firm in the Bronx. It’s as natural as a transition as you can hope for. 

Your colleagues are kind, guiding, helpful — and your work is different, but familiar — a different view of the same picture with a distinct goal of making the government uphold its burden and to hold the phrase, “innocent until proven guilty” with conviction — and hopefully without a conviction for your clients. 

When the news broke, it didn’t take long for you to hear the whispers and it didn’t take long for the whispers to become an outcry.

“Did you hear about the Manhattan A.D.A. on trial?” a first year associate asked another, and you freeze, your head snapping over, blood running cold. 

“What happened?”

~~~

“Jack McCoy,” 

“Jack, what the hell is going on?” you hissed in your office, shutters shut and door closed, “I just heard that—” 

“That Rafael Barba is on trial for murder? You heard right,” a hint of a sigh in the back of his throat, “I had no choice — my hands were tied.” You knew he didn’t — your anger receding, the office can’t be seen giving him any favor. He needed to be treated like anyone else — but he wasn’t just anyone else, was he? 

Not to you.

Your mouth was dry, “What happened?” 

Jack explained — everything — the parents, the baby, the hospital. Two parents caught between an impossible decision about their child now deemed to be braindead, and a mother who wanted nothing more than her child to be at rest. But she wasn’t the one who did it. Rafael did, against the father’s wishes. And now he was going to trial for murder. 

Even as Jack explained, your words kept echoing in your ears — “you’re too busy saving the rest of the world.” 

“Does he have representation yet?” your mind raced with images of him in jail, the ostracization, the media outrage, the shame — fuck. 

What the hell were you thinking, Rafael? 

“Not to my knowledge, but you can’t—” 

“I know I can’t,” you scoff, “but I know someone who can and will,” you scrolled through your contacts, finding the one you were looking for, “Is he okay?” you asked softly. 

“As well as he can be,” you could almost see Jack frowning, “I don’t wish to see anything happen to him, but no one is above the law, you know that.” 

“I know, but I also know him—” and despite everything — the pain, the heartbreak, the anger — you knew he didn’t deserve this, “and I know I can’t let him go to jail.” 

“I know,” he warns, sighing, “I want the same result as you, counselor, just tread lightly.” 

“I will,” a shay sigh escapes your chest, and you swallow the lump in your throat, trying not to let your voice break, “will he be okay?”

He gives a bitter chuckle, “After this many years of doing this, you would think I could predict what a jury will do — but I don’t know. Juries surprise you and that cuts both ways. And I hope this time it cuts the way we want it to.” 

“Thank you Jack, for everything,” 

You can almost see him smile, “Of course, anytime.” 

And now there was one more phone call you needed to make — the phone only rang twice before he picked up, “Regretting your wrong choice in workplace already? Only after, what, a few weeks? I think that’s a new record in job changes, counselor.” 

You snort. Randy Dworkin never changed, did he? “I told you, Randy — your firm is too much of a boys’ club for my taste.” 

“But I know you play rough, and this is more a roughhouse than a boys’ club — you’d dominate them all in a moment, and we’d be nothing but your humble servants.” 

“And here I thought you saved the theatrics for the courtroom,” you hear him give a small gasp. 

“You wound me, counselor. And another thing, if you’re not calling to tell me you’ve changed your mind, then you must be calling for a favor. And as one of your old mentors, let me remind you of an old adage — you catch more flies with honey than vinegar,” you shake your head. 

“It’s not exactly a favor,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “Let me start over — I need you to represent a former colleague of mine.” 

“And this is not a favor, how?” 

“Because this is a case you’re going to definitely want your name on.” 

“If you don’t want to represent me, that’s fine,” Rafael was beginning to regret taking this meeting — even with half the defense attorneys in the city ducking his calls, maybe he would be better off defending himself pro se-- 

“I don't wanna represent you, I have to represent you. Cases like this wet my whistle, so to speak,”  Dworkin explained, sighing, as Rafael raised an eyebrow, “So, what did the little bastard do to you?”

--And he was becoming more sure with every passing second. 

“This was a mistake,” but Dworkin waves him back down.

“Okay, okay,” Dworkin backs off, looking all too pleased with himself, “I’ll skip the self-defense angle,” and Rafael found himself reluctantly sitting back down. Randy Dworkin may be smarmy, he may be endlessly irritating, but he was good at his job, better than good — as much as Rafael hated to admit it —  and he needed help. 

“I’m sorry I wasted your time, Mr. Dworkin,” 

“Randy,” he corrects, “And my point is this whole thing is a sick joke. You killed something that nine out of ten doctors would say wasn't alive.” 

“And what about the tenth doctor?” and that was the thought that haunted Rafael the most — he knew the smallest chance may be enough to convince a jury — it was enough to convince him he was guilty. No one was above the law, including him, guilty in his own eyes — in the eyes of the same god his mother had raised him to believe in. 

And yet here he sat. 

“Look, you wanna prove a point, and I wanna prove a point. It's what my nana would call the perfect shidduch,” Rafael raises an eyebrow, growing more weary of this conversation with every second. 

“What point do you wanna prove?”

“That the government's power has grown too damn much. That the bigger the government gets, the smaller it leaves the individual. That once the government takes away our right to die, it takes away our right to live,” he looks self-satisfied, leaning back in his seat, “How am I doing so far? 

Rafael’s jaw is set, “Well, for defending a murderer, not bad,” and Dworkin raises an eyebrow, shushing him dramatically. 

“Let’s keep that self-sacrificial guilt locked up, okay? Save it for your religious leader of choice,” Dworkin leans in closer, “I know you put in calls for defense attorneys — I know you don’t want to go to jail, and I know other people don’t want to see you take the fall for this.” 

“Other people?” he raises an eyebrow, and Dworkin seems to bite his tongue in the moment, a flicker of interest crossing his face, “did someone refer this case to you?”

“It’s not exactly a low profile nobody case, Barba — the story is splashed across half the tabloids and all over the news—” 

“But you just—”

“Let’s focus on getting you off first,” Dworkin tilts his head, “or did you forget that you’re on trial for murder?” 

Rafael wrinkles his brow, the question still nagging at the back of his head — a question mark at the end of a paragraph that lingered like an unspoken taboo he couldn’t place — but, Dworkin was right — right now, he couldn’t waste time. 

Time that he really didn’t have. 

“You didn’t tell me when I took this case that I was getting in between some doomed office relationship you conveniently failed to disclose before,” you didn’t realize this lunch Randy had invited you to involve an ambush — but you should have — it was Randy Dworkin. 

“I didn’t see how that was pertinent,” you shrug, picking at your food, “and it wasn’t a relationship.” 

“Puh-tat-o, puh-tat-toe — it’s still a cow if it moos, no?” he snorts, shaking his head, “it’s only pertinent when I almost let it slip that you were the one that referred the case to my attention.” 

That gets your attention, head snapping up, “And you?” 

“Masterfully avoided the question — I have excellent evasion skills — the fact that I never had a career in the C.I.A. should be criminal,” he looks up from his food, a shit eating grin on his lips, “It wasn’t hard — he has a lot more on his mind right now.” 

“I can only imagine,” you murmur, your brow wrinkled as you stabbed a fry with your fork, appetite woefully gone. 

“Your face will freeze like that,” and you scoff. 

“And yet I’ll still look better than you,” he laughs at that. 

“I always told you that you should have come and worked for me out of law school, instead of going to the D.A.’s office,” he wipes his lips with his napkin, “maybe you wouldn’t have fallen for this schmuck—” 

You raise an eyebrow, “He’s not—” 

“Still supportive? Even after the way he treated you—” and you gape at him, “you know that rumors get around — the community is small and people talk as much as they listen — it’s an incesteous cesspool of heathens,” and he gestures to you and him, “look no further.” 

“Speak for yourself,” you grumble, cheeks burning, “I’m sorry what rumors?” 

“You don’t need to know, kid,” he shakes his head, “my question is more focused on the present — why do you still care?” 

“Because he doesn’t deserve to go down for this—” 

“And he probably wouldn’t either way, but why do you care?” 

“I don’t know, okay?” you snap, “I wish I did, but I don’t. But despite everything that happened — I don’t want to see him suffer. I don’t want him to go to jail,” your voice cracks ever so slightly, and Randy frowns at you, expression unreadable, “Call me an idiot, but I care — I can’t help it.” 

“Most times that’s an asset, counselor,” he leans forward, elbow on the table, “as long as you don’t let anyone take advantage of it — not again.” 

“I won’t,” you say softly, as the waiter comes over to hand over the check, helping to pack up the rest of your food to go,  “I never thanked you for taking the case.” 

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” he smiles, handing over the server book, “you’re picking up the check.” 

“On the sole count of the indictment, murder in the second degree, we find the defendant, Rafael Barba — not guilty.” the foreman announces, and relief floods Rafael, all the same time that guilt does — the two emotions irrevocably tied — lifting him up and dragging him down — a balloon and an anchor. 

Dworkin claps him on the shoulder, “Congratulations, counselor, and you’re welcome. My bill is the mail.” 

“Thank you, Randy,” he shakes his hand, “really, I—” 

“Spare me the speech, okay? I appreciate it, but I was doing my job, just like you did yours,” he offers him a smile, “and besides there’s someone else you should really be thanking.” 

He frowns, “Who?” 

Your name leaves his lips, and Rafael blinks, “How the case got referred to me? That’s how,” he hadn’t heard your name in months, and yet the hurt of you leaving still felt fresh — a knife twisted in his gut, even as the flesh around it healed and scarred, the metal still stung the same as the day you left. 

Or rather, the day he made you leave. 

It was his fault — he knew that now. And maybe that was the point — to drive you away, to push you so far that there was no coming back. Self-destructive — self sacrificial just as Dworkin had called him — except he had sacrificed you instead of him. It should have been him — his fears, his worries, his walls — offered at the alter of your unconditional love. 

But he didn’t. He didn’t and he regretted it — but was regret enough? 

“Why are you telling me this?” and Dworkin shrugs, grabbing his briefcase with a sigh. When his gaze meets his again, it’s sharp as a jagged rock. 

“I don’t know honestly,” he licks his lips, “I still think you’re a schmuck, but I know certain other people don’t think so,” he sticks a hand in his pocket, “and if you do get another chance, don’t screw it up. Otherwise, there won’t be a defense attorney in town who will help you next time you screw up.” 

He leaves Rafael standing, dumbstruck. 

And what was he to do now — with his future open and empty, what was left and who did he want to share it with? 

And there was only one answer to that question. 

There was knocking at your door — incessant and irritating that forced you out of bed at 11:00 PM — the one night of week you were able to get to bed early. And part of you only hoped it was a murderer to put you out of your misery — but you knew even the murderers weren’t so polite as to knock. But then again, you could be surprised. 

But it wasn’t a murderer — at least in the eyes of a New York jury. 

It was someone much worse. 

And then it occurred to you — how did he know where you even lived— and then you groan, swearing silently under your breath. 

Fuck you, Randy. 

You lean back, head leaning back, staring at the ceiling, were you ready for this? Would you ever be ready for this? 

You unlock the door, opening it, “What are you doing here?” 

“Please, I know I don’t deserve it— I don’t deserve anything from you, but please let me talk,” his voice is soft, and fuck, it hits you in so many ways — his voice, his face, him — it’s overwhelming enough to hear him, but to see him here. It’s too much and not enough all the same — to see him and not touch him. 

But he placed this ravine between you, carved it with the shards of your heart, filled it with your tears, and it was his job to scale.

And it wasn’t your job to make it easy. 

“You don’t deserve it,” you wanted him to slip on the slippery crags of rock, you wanted him to cut his hands on the sharp edges of your bitterness, “so why should I listen?” 

“Because I love you—” and you scoff, “I know I don’t have any right to say that, but please, let me just talk,” and you know he’s not going anywhere, and despite yourself — despite not wanting to give him the chance he had for months and for years — you wanted to know, you wanted him to explain. You grit your teeth, stepping aside, shutting the door behind him, arms crossed. 

“You have two minutes,” 

He clears his throat, “First, thank you for sending Dworkin my way, I don’t think I would have gotten off—” 

“I didn’t let you in to be thanked,” you cut him off, “what do you have to say, Rafael?” 

He wavers for a moment, “I love you, mi amor, and I know I don’t get to say that or call you that, but I do, I really do,” his voice breaks, “I know I don’t deserve you — I think I knew that from the start, and maybe that’s why I didn’t treat you right. It’s not an excuse—” 

“And yet it sounds like one—” 

“I was wrong — I took you for granted, and I will spend the rest of my life making that up to you if you give me the chance,” Rafael steps forward, dropping to one knee and your breath catches in your throat. 

No. No. He wasn’t— 

“I love you, mi amor — from our first kiss I was lost in you already — so much so that it scared me — afraid if I lost you, I would lose myself too. I know we both put away criminals for a living, but I was never scared of dying — I was scared of losing you.” he shakes his head, “But it doesn’t scare me anymore. It doesn’t scare me because losing you was the worst thing to ever happen to me. And I don’t want to ever lose you again.” 

He pulls a ring from his pocket. 

Time slows as you stare at it — wondering if you blink that it would disappear from between his fingers. It still somehow glinted in the low light of your dimmers — as shiny as his eyes were as he gazed up at you. 

You had dreamed of this moment — far too many times — a time where Rafael would come around, finally see you for who you were, find the worth in you like the way you saw it in him. A sweeping moment where he would be down on one knee, asking for your hand, and it would be simple and perfect — but nothing is ever perfect. And nothing is ever simple. 

You cover your mouth, “Wh—” 

“Marry me,” he says, whispering your name with the reverence you had always wished he would, “I got the ring from my mom — she already gave us her blessing — she said I was an idiot for letting you in the first place.” he offers a weak smile. 

“Raf—” 

“Just let me finish, before you make a decision,” he licks his lips, eyes glassy, insistent in his words, as if he was hanging his life on each one, “Come away with me — we can start over, away from politics and baggage — find a place somewhere outside the city. You always said you wanted to open your own practice someday, have a family. We can do that, you and me together,” he builds this perfect life from scratch — and you see it — you saw it before: a house in the suburbs, a picket fence, and a family — you and Rafael, your hands intertwined, together, “We’ll make a home, I’ll find a job without crazy hours, we’ll go on dates, I’ll help you open your own practice. We’ll be together, like before—” 

“But we aren’t together, Rafael— we haven’t been for months,” 

“I know, I know—” 

“No, you don’t,” you step back away from him, scrubbing your hand down your face, “this isn’t a movie, you can’t break my heart and come back months later telling me you made a mistake.” 

“Mi amor—” 

“No, no ‘mi amor’ — not when you played with my feelings for years, not when you said no at every turn, not when you dropped my heart like it was glass and crushed it beneath the heel of your shoes,” you spit back, “I called Dworkin because I didn’t want you to go to jail — nothing more, nothing less.” 

You hear his heart breaking, “I love you—” 

“I don’t,” you don’t let him see the tears falling from your eyes, “I can’t do this again. I can’t uproot my life for someone who could change their mind tomorrow. You had your chance. You lost it.” 

“Don’t say that,” 

“I did,” you wipe away your tears, you’ve cried enough for him, “it’s over. I don’t know what else will make it clearer to you.” 

“Look at me, please, look—” and you whirl on him, and you see him on his knees still — “Tell me you don’t love me — say that you don’t. And I’ll leave.” 

“I don’t love you anymore, Rafael,” and you wished that your words were truer than they were — that those words didn’t hurt as much to say as they were to hear. But they did and they were. You wanted to hate him, you hated to have no inch of remorse, but feelings were always two fold — and with anger came passion, with sadness came joy, and with hate came love. And the lines blurred until they were no more. And as much as you wanted to hate him — you knew you didn’t. 

But you had to say that you did. 

Because you couldn’t do this again for him to change his mind again — your heart couldn’t take that. You didn’t deserve to take that. 

And there was nothing left to be said. 

He slowly rises from his knees, tucking the ring into his pocket, along with the broken pieces of his heart. 

You should let him leave without another word, you should let him leave without having to look at your face, you should let him leave — but a part of you doesn’t want to let go, a part of you doesn’t want to believe this will be the last time you see his face or hear his voice. 

But still you ask, “Are you leaving New York?”

He nods, “I am — I can’t stay here.” 

“Where are you going?” A part of you wonders if he’ll just ignore you, rush out of the door — let you wonder about his plans, wonder about him — but you know you’ll do that anyway. 

You find him softly smiling, unable to quite meet your gaze, and he steps towards you, slowly, allowing you the time and space to step away — but you don’t, you can’t — not when this may be the last time you can touch him — but it was your choice to have this be the last time. 

“I don’t know,” he replies, leaning forward slowly to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering only a moment, his fingers brushing your cheek, “but you don’t need to worry about that. Goodbye… mi amor.” 

“Goodbye, Rafael,” you whisper, unable to watch him leave — not again.