#cloudburst showers

[champion-level-astroturfing]

is pokemon shaming still a thing or am i just old

anyway

[a photograph of a very large East Sea Gastrodon, splooted out on the ground with what can only be described as a sulky expression on its face; a piece of roughly torn cardboard has been propped up against it and someone, presumably Shardy, has scrawled 'STARTED RAIN DANCE DIRECTLY ABOVE MY TRAINER'S HEAD' on it in black marker pen]

he fucking hates when i take a day off and he doesn't see me for a while but he always fucking takes it out on me afterwards like an asshole. c'mon man

#i told you gentle shower you're specially trained for this you knew what i meant #and it wasn't abrupt cloudburst #pokebanter #pokemon shaming

[dubeed84]

Rainy Weekend #rainy #rainyweather #rainyday #rainyweekend #weekend #rain #drops #raindrops #summerrain #showers #summershowers #rainfall #rsinstorm #pouring #cloudburst #instarain #photography #dubeedphotography #canonphotography #sigma70300 (at Belgrade, Serbia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CgoVjK6ryi6/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#rainy #rainyweather #rainyday #rainyweekend #weekend #rain #drops #raindrops #summerrain #showers #summershowers #rainfall #rsinstorm #pouring #cloudburst #instarain #photography #dubeedphotography #canonphotography #sigma70300

[lovelikedestiny]

For @socialanxietyrabbit<3 I hope some blind!Nicky can cheer you up a little.

Tip-tap. Tip-tap-tip-tap. Tiptaptiptap.

The rain creates an unique symphony of sound, each droplet of water forming a different tune as they’re pouring their life-spending beauty over the world. Jewels of the sky. Crystal and glass, so fragile and yet unbreakable. 

Nicky tilts his head a bit more to the side, fully immersing himself in the masterful piece nature is only playing for him. A private concert meant to be cherished. Meant to remind mankind of the humble gifts their environment offers them every day. Meant to make them aware what they have been blessed with and what they tend to forget in the fast paced daily routine. When they cannot even take a tiny fragment of time to themselves to simply breathe and exist. 

That’s precisely what Nicky is doing at this very moment. He is.

Letting his mind wander without aim or intention, relishing in the various sounds, smells and other sensations he can perceive during this magnificent cloudburst. 

The air tastes vivid and promising with a hint of lightning’s tingling electricity, the rich earthiness of the forest surrounding their current residence, and the sweet humidity of the rain Nicky is listening to.

He can smell the trees more clearly through the extreme moisture, distinguish the whiff of delicate moss and comforting resin. It’s the promising tale of summer, already speaking of days filled with kind sunshine and mild evenings under a sky Joe likes to describe to him as a kiss between night and day, moon and sun, before he kisses Nicky, because “you’re my moon in darkness, habibi, how can I kiss you not?”. 

Nile simply describes the sky as purple.

The raindrops sound differently when they splash on leaves, a staggered rhythm created as they get unexpectedly caught by branches in various heights on their way down. On the rooftop of their safehouse it resonates constantly, almost like a monotonous lullaby, and on the meadow it is nearly quiet like the rain wouldn’t want to wake the sleeping flowers, thriving in its fall. 

Nicky is so engrossed in harking to what mother nature is telling him that he misses Joe’s soft, unhasty footsteps approaching behind him, and only registers his presence by his scent having accompanied him for centuries, the whiff of freshly brewed coffee, and a gentle touch on his shoulder.

He doesn’t flinch, though.

“Thank you,” he says as Joe places a warm mug in his outstretched hand, letting his fingers linger longer on Nicky’s knuckles, caressing the sensitive, thin skin.

“Not for that.” Joe’s voice is drenched in the honey of love and Nicky wants to tell him that he will thank him every day as long as they live for his mere presence and each smile Joe gifts Nicky with which he may not be able to see but can feel whenever he maps his beloved’s face with his hands.

Nicky only smiles, because Joe knows his trail of thought, savoring the cinnamony steam of his hot beverage.

It is strange how the pure simplicity like Joe being aware of the way Nicky prefers to drink his coffee - black with just a touch of cinnamon - can have so much power to make his heart stutter in his chest.

The real source for the comfort seeping into his bones and erasing the last remains of the past mission however, is the missing taste of copper in the air.

Joe has freshly showered and the clean, soapy scent of an unharmed body without the sticky, overwhelming thickness of blood and death lets Nicky relax with a silent exhale of relief.

On their job this morning, in the crisp, breathtaking cold of dawn, Joe had been shot three times while shielding the abducted children with his body to protect them.

A heart too big for this world.

Even though it hasn’t been the first time one of them has died and it certainly won’t be the last, Nicky had still waited in agony next to Joe, anxiously spending the dragging on seconds it took his husband to heal listening for a sharp inhale or feeling for the onset of his heartbeat under shaking hands, pressed to Joe’s chest.

The physical reminder of this nightmare may be swept away, down the drain, but Joe’s missing breathing and warmth have persistently taken root in Nicky’s own chest. A parasite in its own form.

Joe and he sit and drink in silence for a few minutes, content with each other’s company, shoulders touching, thighs plastered together. Nicky is focused intensively on the sounds Joe creates, not paying attention to the rainstorm anymore - cooling blows in his mug, sipping the hot fluid, black like Nicky’s own, but with precisely three tablespoons of sugar. Focused on any signs of discomfort, a tense shift of Joe’s posture, a suppressed hiss of pain, an uneven breath.

He perceives none of that but one reassurance is left for the sake of Nicky’s soul.

The hand he holds out to the love of his life moves hesitantly, almost timidly, and his voice is nothing more than a whisper. “May I?”

Joe hums fondly before grabbing Nicky’s wrist, slim artist fingers curling protectively around delicate bones, to guide his palm to the place where Joe’s heart is reliably and strongly beating in his ribcage.

“You never have to ask, Nicolo.”

Joe places his own hand on Nicky’s, sensing the familiar thump of the other half of his soul, the rhythm engraved in his very bones.

And finally, finally, the last trace of unease diminishes, melting away under the sheer devotion Joe radiates like a cozy campfire with his warmth.

Nicky’s own personal sun.

“I’m okay,” Joe promises him and crosses their fingers until their palms are slotted together like a perfect matching puzzle.

“I’m glad you are,” Nicky replies, allowing the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth to come into bloom.

Joe kisses the top of his thumb, letting Nicky’s breath hitch with a faint touch just like this, and continues to press his lips to each of his fingertips. “I was worried about you.”

Incredulously Nicky moves his head to the side, a twitch of confusion, and instinctively tightens his grip on Joe’s hand. “About me? You got shot,” he reminds him softly, oh so softly as to not rouse the begone horrors of today. “You died, Yusuf.”

“But I know how it feels for you and I am sorry it happened this morning, hayati.” 

The uncertainty. The suffocating vines of nothingness. The overwhelming thorns of fear. The helplessness of listening, praying, for a noise of life. The disorientation.

Most of the time, Nicky doesn’t miss his sight. How could he miss something he never had? But whenever the other half of his soul dies, he feels so utterly lost it frightens him, shaking him to his core. How dependent he is on sound. 

Spending seconds without an indication of Joe coming back to life, returning to a world they both share, is excruciating. Torture. Making his handicap more obvious to him which ignites a spark of self-hatred in him that comes with the dangerous feeling of being useless.

Nicky stays silent a little too long, prompting Joe to scoot closer to him, bridging the last minimum of free space between them, so that their whole sides are pressed together. Sharing warmth and comfort like life-spending oxygen.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, more gentle this time. The real apology behind it brushes gossamer over Nicky’s cheekbone. 

I’m sorry for leaving you.

Nicky shakes his head no, an automatism because he never has to apologize for something he has no power over. 

A heart too full of love.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he points out, setting his mug carefully down on one step of the stairs they’re perched on to use his free hand to touch Joe’s face, cupping his beautiful jaw like something infinitely precious.

Joe smiles, lips curling into the beloved shape under Nicky’s thumb. “It wasn’t yours either.”

Yes. Because I hadn’t got your back. Because I couldn’t protect you. Because I was useless.

“You led the children to safety.” Joe has guessed where his bad thoughts have dragged him. Of course he has. “You did great, Nicolo.”

I didn’t do enough.

He doesn’t voice it, though, Joe can read the words clearly on his face anyway and makes an unhappy guttural sound.

“You saved them,” Nicky points out.

Joe doesn’t respond to that but the stiffness in the atmosphere gives Nicky enough indication. As he withdraws his hand from Joe’s face, letting it fall limp in his lap, Jow draws a pattern onto the skin of the hand he is still holding. Each brush of his fingers conveys another emotion Joe is wordlessly communicating to him. Pride. Trust. Devotion. Support. Concern. Heartache and sadness for the troubled thoughts on Nicky’s mind.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you did great, ya amar. We saved them. Together.” Needless to say, Joe knows of these moments of doubt and self-consciousness Nicky experiences from time to time about his missing sight. And as always he does what he can do best: show Nicky his love.

You’re not worthless, their first kiss tells him.

You’re worth something, the second says.

You're worth everything, the third and final kiss expresses.

Exhaling deeply, his nose buried in the safe crook of Joe’s neck, Nicky stays for a few minutes, allowing the supporting words of his partner to wash over him, plucking the seeds of self hatred out of his heart before they can sprout.

Joe holds him without disrupting the pleasant rush of the rain weaving a protecting cocoon around them. Hiding them in their personal little bubble. For now.

“How can I make it up to you?” Joe eventually wants to know tenderly, not for Nicky’s but his own sake, his own guilt for contributing to Nicky’s feelings although he certainly is not to blame.

Nicky moves his nose slowly across Joe’s mouth, following the curve of his cheek until it boops slightly against Joe’s, causing the latter to huff in amusement. 

“Enjoy this concert with me,” he invites him with a lopsided smile.

Relaxed, Joe settles back, reaching for his mug again, but not breaking their skin-to-skin contact one. “It would be my pleasure, tesoro. What is it called, if I may ask?”

“The lullaby of the rain.”

#in the mean time have another ficlet #the old guard #tog #tog fic #tog fanfic #ficlet #fanfiction #nicolo di genova #nicky #yusuf al kaysani #joe #joe x nicky #kaysanova #joenicky #yusuf x nicolo #immortal husbands #blind!nicky #blind!nicky is back babyyyyy #mild hurt/comfort #concern #light angst #emotions #eternal love

[diabolicalacid]

— 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐒

pairing : atsumu miya x gn!reader / sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader

genre : fluff, angst, slice of life

warnings : mature language, mentions of smoking, drinking and alcoholism, mentions of kissing, atsumu is an a-hole

epilogue for this fic has been posted!

summary : atsumu miya was your maybe, sakusa kiyoomi is your forever.

wc : 12.1k

an : i wrote this in two days following my obsession with le sserafim’s sour grapes, so please be nice about it. way back home won’t be back until the end of july, so enjoy reading this until then <3!

rain drops descend to the ground from their storehouse in the heavy, grey clouds, not one at a time, rather all at once, producing a sound unpleasant to your ear. the cloudburst in osaka is heavy tonight. thunder roars as it’s companion. it’s the loudest you’ve heard over the years you’ve lived in the city.

from beneath your quilt you can see the dark sky flashing shades of grey and white from time to time. light flashes behind the lavender curtains covering the window, and every time the thunder rumbles in the night sky, it makes you quiver in your spot and you tug the blanket closer to yourself.

it isn’t uncommon for rain to frequent its comebacks in osaka. the city is prone to experiencing showers throughout the year. living in the city has familiarized you to the recurring instances of rain.

you didn’t want the rain to show up tonight. the rain alone would’ve been alright, but the thunder? you could’ve lived without that addition to the combo. you despise the rain. it doesn’t terrify you like it does to your sister, but you have your own reasons to dislike it.

you want the world around you to pause. you want the pouring rain to pause it’s descent. it’s one of those nights when all the memories rush flooding alongside the rainwater, pooling at your heart, drowning it inside. you want the world around you to fall into silence. just for a minute. just until you find the courage to gash the thread that used to truss you to atsumu miya.

your time together was good. there was a lot of love. there was a lot of warmth. you were at your peak, at the highest point in your life. atsumu miya offered you three years of his life and you took them from him without eschewing. you didn’t think there would be consequences you’d have to face. you thought loving atsumu translated directly to freedom. once you were hitched to him you expected it to be a forever kind of thing.

it was the pinnacle of mankind being in love with him. atsumu miya, twenty four, setter, was everything a woman could look for in a man and you just so happened to be lucky enough to fall for him. everyday with atsumu miya was like the beginning of a new adventure. loving him was letting yourself sway to the rhythm of the same world you were scared to dangle your feet in. now that you don’t have the liberty to dance to its tune anymore, you’d do almost anything to have it back. a felony, no, but still, a whole lot more than just sulking in your bed.

you’d fall to your knees and beg for him to return what he snatched from you so nonchalantly. but neither is atsumu miya a considerate man, nor is your pride so minuscule, so you restrict yourself to texting him every once in a while.

the texts aren’t anything more than requests and appeals for him to allow you back into his life. they go unopened and unanswered. the whole ordeal involving texting him over and over again isn’t really putting you anywhere, and you should probably stop it once and for all. you know that. your brain knows that. you heart, however, doesn’t.

atsumu miya showed you what infinity could possibly mean, and ironically, it took him only three years, four months, five days to achieve that goal. he also offered you a taste of what the worst possible heartbreak of your life would look like, and that took him less than a minute to stage. that’s something you despise him for.

you were doing fine. he’d come home to you everyday after practice and you’d cook him the food he loved to eat. he’d make love to you when you were both in heat. you’d spend your weekends slackening around your apartment, watching a movie and sleeping in with him. you’d go out on a date every week, sometimes even two. you were in love with each other and the band of platinum circling your ring finger until an year ago was proof enough.

(you collect the documents splayed across your table to put them back in the folders they rightfully belong to. it’s almost half past five and you’re about to get off work for the day. you put the pen and pencil stranded at the corner of the desk into the pen stand, turn off your laptop and unplug it from the charger. you stow the device into its bag, shoving in the charger next.

“getting ready to leave already?“ suzuha yuta peeks into your cubicle, licking a strawberry candy with two cups of coffee in his hands. he eyes your workspace that is too organised and quaint for his own liking.

suzuha prefers pink and messy. you’ve been to his space before and nothing is ever in place. he keeps losing the documents handed out to him and is a part of the reason why almost everything in your office is now digitalised. hirano sensei wouldn’t prefer going home with a headache every day for the rest of her life.

the habit of organisation and a liking for minimalistic design is just something you’ve picked up hanging out around sakusa kiyoomi. plus you see no merit in overcrowding your office desk. it only makes your job more tedious as if dealing with a tonne of paperwork isn’t a hassle in the first place.

“yes, it’s almost half past five.” you admit, pointing at the clock hanging against the grey backdrop of your office walls.

he looks at the cuckoo clock, grimacing at the dull vibe your cubicle gives off. suzuha walks in and takes a seat on the extra chair swivelling in a corner next to the entrance. he puts the coffee cups out on your table. he continues licking his candy, while you resume putting things back in their places.

“ah, of course, you always leave on time, don’t you?“ he teases you, shifting a cup of coffee your way. you accept, smiling as a token of gratitude. you pull out two coasters to place the cups on them to prevent any stains.

“just a force of habit, you know.” you giggle, sipping some coffee while utilising your second hand to rearrange your desk and pack your tote bag.

“see you tomorrow, yn.” suzuha gets off the chair, waves you a goodbye and walks out of your space.

“see you too.” you return the sentiment, rushing out of your space to wave back to him.

you sense your phone vibrating on your desk. you flip it over to observe that you’re receiving a call from atsumu miya, your doting fiancé. reading his name popped across your phone screen separates your lips into a grin. you answer almost instantly.

“hey, tsumu.” you extend an energetic greeting, pushing back in your chain, swiveling it to face the window to take in the view outside.

“hey, yn.” he speaks from the other end of the line, sounding dull than usual, which makes you wonder if practice didn’t go as planned.

“tsumu, is everything alright?“ you question, shifting in your seat as you grab a pen to fiddle with.

“yes it is. why would you ask, yn?” he laughs, albeit nervously, still convincing enough to put your heart to ease. you drop the pen on the table, falling back into a relaxed position again.

“can you come downstairs, babe?” he asks.

“of course, i’m about to leave anyways.” you tell him, putting the pen back into its place in the stand. you grab your tote and your laptop bag, fine tune your footwear and exit your work space.

atsumu’s presence at your workplace at this time of the day is a surprise to you considering the fact that practice stretches out until eight in the evening. then again, it isn’t uncommon for him to show up at your work. perhaps he’s here to take you out to dinner tonight.

walking out of your office building, you spot atsumu leaning against his suv, reading something on his phone. you jog towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist. you place a chaste kiss on his lips expecting him to return one, but he pulls away from your hold, wiping the kiss off his lip, instantly draining the massive grin off your face.

“what’s wrong, tsumu?” you ask him, strung at his actions, pushing his unruly hair behind his ear, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

“we need to talk.” he tells you, taking your hand off his face and squeezing your shoulders to extend the distance between him and you. when you notice the lack of comfort in the space between the two of you, you walk to his side, maintaining distance. you lean against his car, pulling out a cigarette.

you offer him one, drawing a cig upwards and holding out the packet between the two of you, but he repudiates, jostling the packet lower. you toss the box into your tote bag, losing the unused cigarette. you release it to the ground and trample it under the weight of your boots.

“what is it?“ you inquire, clutching your cardigan tightly because of the obvious nervousness brimming at your core.

you feel the rain approaching when the sky changes it’s shade and the first stroke of lightning etches across the sky. the growl of thunder follows. you think about how you didn’t carry an umbrella or a rain coat. for someone who commutes around with a car, trusting atsumu to carry either of the two would be foolish. so you don’t bother questioning him regarding it.

“you said we need to talk.” you glance up to look at the sky fabricating it’s colours, reminding atsumu of the fact that the whole reason he showed up at your work place abandoning practice halfway was to talk to you.

he stares at the sky, blank, then at you as you flinch whilst another stroke of lightning tears through the sky. you peek right into his eyes. they’re blank. you’re beginning to catch a hint, but you shake the doubt off your sleeves, puffing air out of your mouth, patting your cheeks, assuring yourself to drop the concern.

atsumu miya loves you and you love him back. there’s no reason for him to break up with you. you’re sure he just wants to talk about something that’s been bothering him. there’s no way this conversation will end with an unexpected heartbreak.

“we should call it off.” he imparts his decision, looking you straight in the eye. you expected him to look to the ground out of all the guilt rising in his body, but you suppose there isn’t any he feels to begin with.

“you said everything was fine.” you thrust his shoulder, yelling, voice cocooning due to the roaring thunder. he stands across you, unabashed, diverting his gaze off you to avoid eye contact or any conversation regarding his ultimatum.

“i lied.” he avows, turning away from you to face in the opposite direction. you fall back, leaning further back into the metal of the car, waiting on the rain to start pouring down for you to find a reason to walk away from this conversation.

atsumu spins the engagement ring off his finger, handing it to you. you don’t take it from him. you just stare at your own hugging your finger. when you don’t respond by taking possession of the ring, he tosses it in the bin close by. you feel your heart losing mass at his action and you blench in pain.

so this is what he truly wants. he doesn’t intend on looking back or giving it a second thought. atsumu miya has made up his mind. he isn’t the kind to waver. what he decides, he does. then again, maybe he’s the kind to waver after all. he decided to marry you and now he’s calling off the engagement. he’s definitely the kind to waver, you suppose. you thought he wasn’t, but he is.

atsumu miya wants to break up with you. he wants to call off the wedding scheduled for the upcoming week that you already picked a dress for. he wants to call off your three year relationship when he literally fucked you dumb last night. he wants to quit whatever you had and only he knows why.

you initially thought he was getting cold feet before the wedding. talking him out of his doubts wouldn’t have been much of a task. osamu knows exactly what to say to his brother in times like this, and it would’ve worked out.

then he tossed his ring into the dustbin and you were sure he didn’t want any of this with you. you know he isn’t calling this off because he’s cheating on you. atsumu miya might be a jerk but he’s a man with enough pride to leash himself away from involving himself in anything of that nature.

there’s just nothing left for him to do with you. atsumu miya’s idea of love is a new adventure every day of his life, and he’s crossed off just about every task on his to do list with you. there isn’t anything more for you to offer him, so he’s giving you up. very convenient for him. not so much for you.

“what about the money we spent on the wedding?” you question regarding the expenses, pulling out the list of transactions you made for the ceremony. your response should be different than what it is. you should probably be in tears. you should be demanding answers from him. instead, you’re more worried about the money you spent organising everything for your wedding.

“it doesn’t matter. most of it was mine anyways.” he shakes your concern off, offending you with his tone along the way.

most of it was his money indeed, but he offered to pay the costs himself. he was of the opinion that he earns more than enough to shoulder the entire expense himself. you wanted to pitch in simply because marriage is a two way street. despite your insistence he paid off more than two third the total amount. he doesn’t have to make it sound like you were ungrateful or unwilling to do it yourself.

“you offered to pay it, miya atsumu. don’t make it sound like i was some kind of a gold digger.” you snap at him. tears start descending down your cheeks, falling to the ground, dissipating on the concrete. it starts pouring rain as well.

you drop your gaze to ground, wiping your face in a hasty motion using your kerchief. atsumu miya opens the door to his car for you to take a seat inside. you’re unsure if moving inside the car now is going to make any difference when you’re already drenched in rainwater and smell petrichor. when he offers, you still settle inside. you position your laptop bag on the backseat and your tote in your lap.

“i never called you a gold digger.” he states, keying his car to start the engine to set up the atmosphere. he calibrates the air conditioning and puts on your favourite music.

atsumu miya broke your heart this evening but he’s still somehow a gentleman to you. the ring on your finger feels so tight. it’s now cutting off the circulation to your finger and you want to slip it off and launch it at his face. your hand instinctively reaches to loosen the grip of the ring, but you pause before you remove it and toss it to his face.

“you sure made it sound like that.” you make a snarl remark, hunching forward to tune up the music that’s playing in the car.

“is it because i did something?” you question, swallowing your pride, wondering if it’s been you all along when you only offered him everything you could. maybe that wasn’t good enough. atsumu ignores your question. he starts driving. you have no idea where you’re headed. you don’t bother to ask. you sure hope it’s back to your place though. there’s no where else you want to go with him right now.

“no. it isn’t you. it’s me.” he reassures you, pressing the accelerator down as he speeds to drive on the highway. ‘it’s not you, it’s me’, how typical.

the part of you that was reeling in self doubt is put to ease. you never loved him any less than he loved you but when he declared he no longer wanted to be with you, you started wondering if it was something you did that drove him to make the decision.

“it was definitely me.” he claims once again, taking your hand and rubbing it in reassurance. you withdraw your own from his grip. the last thing you want is for your heart to abhor you because you let atsumu hold your hand after he called your wedding off.

“take the ring.” you command, although not intimidatingly, but with a pitch of uneasiness, as you slip the platinum band off your ring finger, locate in on the palm of your hand and extend it towards him.

the car stops at a signal, and atsumu tilts his body in order to face you. he folds your fingers over the ring and pushes your hand closer to yourself.

“keep it.” he says, pushing the accelerator to start the car as the signal turns green. without a second thought or another attempt to convince him again, you drop the ring inside your bag and crane your neck towards the window to look outside.

“you must be cold.” atsumu cambers his figure to grab a leather jacket from the backseat of his car and places it on your thighs. “take my jacket, it’ll keep you warm.” he offers, patting the leather garment.

“or you could just turn off the air conditioning.” you scoff at him, throwing the jacket right back to where it came from. you don’t want anything that belongs to atsumu miya anymore. the memories are enough. they’re going to press at your heart every day of your life anyways.

“when do i move out?” you ask, wanting him to suggest a day when he isn’t at home for you to collect your stuff and quietly walk out.

“next week?” he suggests and you make note to clear up your schedule to grab your belongings from “his” apartment in the coming week.

“i’ll drop by next week then.” you inform, lowering the volume of the music playing on the stereo of the car. you close your eyes and fall back in your seat.

atsumu looks at you from the corner of the eye, no guilt swatting his conscience. he steers his vision back on the road and continues driving to your parents place, where he supposes you’ll be staying henceforth, since you made a mention about stopping by to recoup your stuff.

“i’ll drop it off for you.” he makes you a good deal, taking a left the junction to steer his car in the direction of your parents’ place.

“okay, make it as soon as possible.” you nod at his offer, sifting through your bag to look for a chocolate bar you purchased off the vending machine earlier this afternoon.

“by the end of this week?” he questions if you’ll be fine with his given time slot and you hum in agreement, tearing apart the wrapping caressing the chocolate bar.

“works for me.” you assure him, handing out the chocolate after taking a bite out of it yourself. you extend your hand turn up the volume of the music again. atsumu notices your repetitive action.

“you’re fiddling with the stereo a whole lot.” he remarks, turning the wheel in his hands.

“as a distraction.” you shrug, pushing the bar further up his face in the space between the two of you.

“chocolate?” you proffer.

“i’m on a diet.” he informs, denying the chocolate bar being brandished in his face.

“we all know you cheat anyways.” you turn against the strap of the seatbelt limiting your motion, and impel the chocolate bar into his mouth. atsumu takes a bite out of it, dropping the rest on to his pants. you don’t pick up the fallen piece of the chocolate. atsumu is quick to grab it and place it in his mouth.)

it was a good relationship. that’s what you’ve been telling around whenever someone questions the credibility of it following your break up.

you remember telling your parents about the break up. you didn’t receive any pity on their behalf. they knew atsumu miya like their own son. he was a good man to you. although he broke up with you in the most unconventional way possible, your parents had no criticism for him. when he dropped by with your chattels packed in cardboard boxes, he didn’t face you, but he faced your parents and apologised to them for all the inconvenience he caused. maybe he was just trying to upkeep his golden image, but regardless of his reasons, he was still a gentleman and that’s the only thing your parents really noticed.

when you told your mutual friends, they didn’t have much to offer either. koutaro kept calling you frequently to ask if you were doing alright after his asshole of a best friend dumped you. shoyo would come over with food and ice cream from time to time. kiyoomi let you spend several nights at his place, snuggling up to him. shugo took you out on drives on some nights and played you your favourite songs on his guitar. his friends were trying to make it up to you but none of them ever had anything bad to say to atsumu miya.

you never found out why he called it quits on the wedding so abruptly, or why he broke up with you, or why he threw his engagement ring in the bin next to your workplace. atsumu miya never told you or anyone else for the matter of fact. the gown designer asked you regarding it when you visited her shop to return the dress and accept refund. you only offered her a fake smile. she didn’t implore further after you told her that your wedding had been cancelled until further notice.

the day your aunt heard about it, she welcomed you over for a brunch. you don’t know what she was trying to compensate for. not like atsumu miya had anything to do with her. the invitation was most likely extended out of pity. at least she called him a bastard while stabbing her fork through a dumpling.

she had things to say to you too, heavily criticising your god awful taste in men. when you started dating atsumu, you thought you were going to get over dating the wrong men. even he proved you wrong. before leaving, she offered you a rock, telling you that it would help you find good luck when it comes to men. you tossed it into the bushes the moment you walked out of her house.

his parents stopped by to apologise on his behalf. but more so to collect the family heirloom, the expensive shiromuku passed down for generations in his lineage. you mother was the only one home when they came over. she offered them lunch and sweets and returned the heirloom in its intact packaging. you never got to see what it looked like or the patterns delicately loomed into it. his mother would say the backdrop was white with lilacs embroidered on it. you could only go as far to picture it whenever you looked back on what could’ve been.

(you walk out of the elevator to spot yuzuru hana waiting at front of your door with a polythene bag you suppose is packed with food. you don’t know why she’s here. she never called you or texted you or informed you in any way. then again, showing up unannounced was the better choice since you would’ve most likely declined if she would’ve sought permission.

lately it’s been more comfortable staying with yourself. in contrast to what everyone around you says, it rarely gets lonely. you get off work, have dinner with suzuha sometimes. on other days you whisk up a petite meal for yourself. you check your social media while you have your food. you end your day either reading a book or listening to music.

shoyo no longer comes over with food and ice cream. he insists he wants to, but you come up with some excuse to hold him off. shugo texts you for late night drives but you tell him you prefer to be in bed doing your own thing. bokuto calls you to ask if you’re doing fine and you tell him you’re okay and you’ll be alright. you still spend nights at sakusa’s place and he doesn’t complain much about the instances. he does his own thing and you do your own. you come up with excuses to avoid spending time with anyone associated with atsumu miya.

when she spots you coming off the elevator, hana mouths a “hello”, vigorously waving her hand at you.

yuzura hana is twenty nine, a convenience store worker and also bokuto koutaro’s long term girlfriend. you wonder if there’s anything in particular that holds the spiker back from popping the question, but you aren’t one to invade someone’s privacy, so you never ask him upfront. she’s a stunning women with a beauty mark on the bridge of her nose. her clothes always compliment her curves and her pale skin resonates with her light make up. she’s also someone you’re awfully close to. thanks to atsumu miya you ended up with a good friend who’s willing to stick for a long time.

hana was the first person you dialed after getting off atsumu’s car following your breakup. he dropped you off in front of your parents’ place, but you didn’t have it in yourself to walk up to the front door, ring the bell and tell them you’ll be moving in until further notice. it was still pouring quite heavily and she was the only person you could think of. you stayed over at her place in nagoya that night. atsumu broke up with you on a rainy evening which is probably where your dislike for the season stems from.

“hey, hana.” you saunter her way, shoulders slumped and a tired grin drawn across your lips.

“what are you doing here?” you ask her, turning the key into the lock to unlock the door for the two of you to step in.

“i was in town to meet kou.” she tells you, leaning into your space from the left as you turn your keys to unlock the door “and i thought i’d drop by with some dinner.”

hana lives in nagoya and bokuto lives exactly two hours forty mins away from her place. you envy their relationship sometimes when you think of the fact that they make it work despite the distance, but you couldn’t, and you even moved in with him.

“i already had food with suzuha.” you turn to look at her, pursing your lips, feeling guilty she wasted her time doing all this for you only for you to be full to begin with.

“oh, it’s okay. i can eat and you can watch me do that.” she suggests, patting your back robustly, chuckling at the circumstances.

“sure, why not.” you reciprocate her laugh, pushing the door open. you walk in. hana follows your lead inside.

“so what really brings you here, hana?” you wriggle your brows at her, placing your footwear on the stand, knowing all too well she isn’t here just for the dinner.

hana hands you the polythene bag, unbuckles her footwear, puts it in place and takes her coat off, leaving it on the coat rack.

“i’m telling you i just want to have some dinner with my bestie.” she teases, nudging your shoulder and draws you into a tight hug.

“hana, i know you’re here to talk about him.” you fling her arms aside, place the food on the kitchen island, and walk into the bathroom to wash up.

“it’s not like that, babe.” she declines, jutting into the bathroom, waiting on her turn to cleanse.

“then what’s it like?” you sigh, turning to face her with a dubious look on your face. you grab the hand towel and wipe the water droplets off your face.

“i only wanted to check up on you.” she shrugs as you hand her a new towel you just pulled out of the cabinet.

“sure you wanted to.” you roll your eyes, trailing towards the kitchen island to arrange a plate for hana, who follows you and begins unpacking all the food she bought.

“are you sure you don’t want any?” she asks, bending over to take a whiff of the steaming hot ramen.

“it’s fresh and it’s from your favorite store.” she baits you, mentioning your store of choice, picking up a few noodles with her chopsticks to show it off to you.

“no, thank you, help yourself.” you voice, walking towards the cassette player to put on some music.

“elvis please, bestie.” hana makes a request, serving herself ramen and gyoza. she cozies herself in a high chair and begins eating her food. you walk in with a bottle of wine in your hand and secure yourself a spot right across her.

you pour a glass of wine for yourself, not sparing hana a second one. she pouts at you but she can’t afford to drink it herself. she’s been sober for six months now and you don’t want to become the reason she loses her clean streak.

you think you know why bokuto is doubtful about popping the question to her. you’re sure he loves her enough, but hana has her issues she needs to come to face with, and loving her from the sidelines is bokuto’s way of letting her do that in her own time. you wonder how long he’s willing to wait for her. knowing bokuto koutaro, he’d be willing to wait forever.

.

“you need to let him go.” hana advises. it takes her five minutes to state this to you.

so long the silence between the two of you was only interrupted by the sound her mouth made while slurping the ramen noodles. the silence wasn’t awkward. there wasn’t a frame of tension stretching across the air either.

you were used to the silence in your life since he left. hana was used to the silence around you because as of late, you rarely ever spoke, and she understands why. at the same time you don’t think she does. it’s been an year since your engagement broke off. atsumu is living his life like you were never a part of it while you’re still hung up waiting for him to come back. she doesn’t understand the need for you to put a pause to your own life.

“he has a new girlfriend now.” hana informs, lifting a gyoza with her chopsticks and placing it in her mouth. she continues, reaching out for the bottle of water standing across her. “i know you know.”

“i know you met them too.” she takes a sip, placing it across her and moves on to take another bite of the gyoza. “atsumu told me he ran into you.” she explains.

you don’t know what took her so long to say it to you. it was either because she still considers talking about atsumu around you a delicate subject or because it took her five minutes to notice what was scattered across the carpet of your living room.

pictures. of you and atsumu. you still have them. you kept them as mementos of course. nothing more than that. but the day the news of atsumu’s new girlfriend broke out, you opened the box of photos to take a walk down the memory lane. that was two days ago. you never put them back in place. hana still doesn’t understand how your brain works. you should’ve discarded those pictures the day he left you stranded.

“i will.” you offer her a fake smile, stretching your lips as wide as you can, convincing hana to trust your lies. “soon enough.”

you’ll move on. just not today. or tomorrow. or next week. or next month. it’s not that you don’t want to. holding on to what atsumu miya left behind doesn’t give you any pleasure. it’s just that you haven’t yet discovered the light at the end of the tunnel. he found someone else he’s happy with. you? you’ve had no luck.

you went out on a date with someone you met at the sushi store last month. first impressions were decent enough until you found out they stalked their co workers on social media. stalked as in, in an over the top, creepy type of a way. you thanked them for taking you out, paid your share of bill and refrained contacting them again.

hana introduced you to one of her store employees. you accompanied them on a few dates, but they were impatient. they wanted to jump to marriage and start a family already. you weren’t ready for that kind of a commitment. so you called it quits mutually after talking it out. hana apologised about it as well, but you didn’t forgave her because it never upset you in the first place.

online dating turned out to be an even bigger scam. everyone you talked to never showed up to the actual date. those who did show up turned out to be very different from the personalities you’d met online. every date you’ve been on since your break up has been one disaster followed by the next.

“stop lying, for fucks sake.” hana snaps, pressing her chopsticks to the table, making an agitated sound. she leaves her seat to beeline towards the photos on the ground and collects them one at a time, placing them in the box they belong to.

“i’m taking this with me.” she announces, putting the box next to her bag on the couch. she returns to her place and continues having her share of food.

you don’t say much except for nodding at her. hana wouldn’t possibly let you keep the box in your possession any longer. good thing she doesn’t know that you still have your engagement ring. you told her you sold it to a jeweller when atsumu didn’t want to have it back. but it sits somewhere around your bedroom, reflecting the memories and the light.

“you should be thankful i’m not setting you up on a date.” she mumbles, unclear because of the food in her mouth.

“mhm.” you agree. as long as you don’t have to force yourself to dress up for more dates that are bound to end up in failure, you’re fine with hana taking a hold of all those pictures.)

you take the quilt off your figure, supporting yourself to step out of the bed. you walk closer to the window of your bedroom. the curtains are drawn and the lock is in place but the cacophony of the pouring rain and the growl of thunder is as loud as ever.

you wish it would stop already. sleeping has been a chore for the past four days. running into atsumu miya and his new girlfriend whilst you were out to quaff a few drinks wasn’t on your weekend plan at all.

you collect a cigarette from your tote, light it up and trace a few puffs across the glass of the window. you know smoking doesn’t fit well with your virtues. if anything, you always try to steer away from lighting one. but lately wine and cigarettes have been a splendid combination. like the drug of choice that puts you to sound sleep. you still try not to take in more than seven puffs at once.

you pinch the burning end of the stick with your fingers, snuffing out the flame. you toss the cigarette into the bin and move closer to the window, leaning against the cold glass to appreciate the view blurred out by the falling showers.

(atsumu walks into the club with his arm laced around a woman’s waist. you notice their arrival only because he laughs at something she tittered to him, and you recognize the beat of his laughter dawdling in your earshot.

you place your glass of whiskey on the counter and turn around to see him gallivanting towards a table alongside the woman who seems to be his hook up. she might as well be his girlfriend but you don’t want to jump the gun with conclusions.

you scrutinise the pair from your position at the bar. she seems around your age, someone who works a normal job. her outfit isn’t extravagant. she’s dressed in formals, so she must’ve come to the venue straight from the office. she has long black hair, a contrast to your own that’s on the shorter side. her smile is, you hate to say it, very very contagious and your lips break into one too while you’re busy looking at the two.

atsumu miya catches you staring at him and his supposed date for the night. you’re quick to turn around in a haste, almost slipping off the chair while turning around. you return to your whiskey, chugging it down at once due to the embarrassment and anxiety.

you signal the bartended to pour you another shot. he takes your glass off your hands. you sigh, placing a hand on your chest, sensing a rapid rise in the rhythm of your heartbeat.

“hey.” you feel a tap on your shoulder and for a moment you want it to be a random creep offering to buy you a drink and take you home for the night. you swivel around to find atsumu and his companion standing in front of you.

“oh hey, atsumu, you’re here too?” you greet him, chuckling nervously, trying to convince him that you didn’t notice his presence before and it’s very much news to you.

“don’t pretend like you weren’t staring us down a moment ago, yn.” he confronts you and it makes you want to come up with an excuse to run away from their presence.

“i wasn’t.” you defend yourself as the server slides the coupe glass closer to you. you’re quick to chug it down and collect your belongings, a hand purse and glasses, with an intention of leaving the place.

“sure you weren’t.” he quips at you. you feel the urge to walk away strengthen and your feet voluntarily trying to drag yourself away from atsumu and his female companion.

“i think i’m going to leave now.” you declare, jumping off the high chair. you bow to the couple, stepping back in order to make your way out of the establishment.

“yn, before you go, i’d like you to meet someone.” he stops you in the tracks, making you meet his gaze as he puts an arm around the woman, pulling her closer to him.

“this is nakamura riko, my new girlfriend.” he introduces her and she curtsies at you with respect. you feel the smile that was breaking out on your face closing in. while she’s still smiling at you and her smile is just as contagious, you’ve grown immune to it now.

“oh.” you don’t know what else to say. you can’t get yourself to say anything other than this. so it’s his girlfriend after all. not just a one night stand, but his girlfriend, his significant other.

you feel an arrow shooting right across your heart, pulling it apart into two pieces. you had come to the bar to drink your sorrows away and somehow you’re about to exit this place with even more on your plate.

“sorry, im going to go now.” you inform the two in front of you before you scuttle your way out of the crowded bar, occasionally running into bodies here and there.

“who was she?” riko questions, watching you nervously track your way out of the place, slightly worried if you’ll make it back home unharmed.

“it’s just yn. she’s a friend.” atsumu tells her, leading her to a table where they can sit to have some dinner and drinks.

“oh, i see. she’s very pretty.” riko compliments you, smiling at you as she watches you walking out once and for all.)

you make your way to the bathroom cabinet to look for some earplugs. when you open the door, the first thing that demands your attention is a glimmering article next to a few bottles of common medicines. the engagement ring that atsumu declined to take back and you held on to, stares at you in the face while the memory of meeting nakamuro riko on friday plays on repeat inside your head.

you close the cabinet with a force and the echo of the sound strums around you. you walk out, closing the door behind you. you try to put yourself to sleep again, covering yourself with the blanket, putting on a song to overthrow the sound of rain and thunder.

you can still recall. atsumu and riko together at the bar. atsumu and you under the rain. atsumu and you in love. atsumu and you not in love. atsumu and riko in love. you pull out your earpiece and hurl it towards the window. it falls to the ground, and when thunder strikes again, it makes you jump in place.

you lean against the headboard of the bed, scrolling through your recently dialed contacts, looking for sakusa’s contact information. you press the button, sending him a ring and sakusa instantly answers when he feels the very first vibration go off in his pocket.

“hey.” you greet him, pulling at your bedding in fear and nervousness. thunder still roars in the background, making you jump in your seat yet again. you flinch, uttering a slight sound that sakusa most definitely hears. he’s alerted.

“yn, hey.” he responds, putting aside the last bowl he washed. he proceeds to wipe his hands with a paper towel and discards it into the bin.

“are you alright?” he questions, sloping against the counter, running you his doubts regarding your wellbeing.

“can you please come over?” you ask, ignoring his concern, voice shaky. sakusa notices this. without second consideration, he sprints to his bedroom to look for a change of clothes.

“of course i can.” he says, “i’ll be over in ten.” he cuts off the call before you get the chance to express gratitude. you put your phone aside and walk to the living room to settle on the couch. you put on some music to keep you fine company.

.

you hear the doorbell chiming. you shift in position to leave the couch and rush to open the frontdoor. you know it’s sakusa at the door. you find him outside with a bouquet of flowers. your lips shift into a wide smile from the frown they were formerly plastered in.

“hey.” sakusa waves at you, grinning, stepping in. he turns around to close the door. you wait for him to enter from your spot in the genkan.

he unbuckles his footwear, placing his shoes to the side and pulls out a bottle of handsanitiser. you know better than anyone to not interrupt sakusa’s rituals. he proceeds to sanitise his palms and moves in closer on you.

“for you.” he hands out the bouquet of multicoloured roses and you accept it from his hands. he strolls into the living room and takes you inside along with him, lightly positioning his hand around your waist.

“where did you get this at this time of the night?” you ask, sniffing a pink rose to take in the aroma. you seperate it from rest of the bouquet and offer it to him.

“for you.” you say, placing the flower in his hand, circling his fingers around it. he smiles at the rose that’s now in his possession, putting it inside his pocket.

“i have contacts.” he informs you and you frown at the lack of a proper response.

“thanks for coming over.” you say as you place the bouquet he got for you on the coffee table, taking yet another rose out of it. this time to place it behind his ear.

“another one.” you balance on your toes, holding onto sakusa’s hand as you leave the red rose you picked behind his ear.

“you’re cute.” you smile, cheeks red and heart full when you look at sakusa with a rose tucked next to his tragus and another inside his pocket.

“so are you.” he compliments you back, pulling your cheeks and leaves a quick kiss on your forehead. you smile hushly, cheeks turning all shades of pink and red.

“also, you don’t have to thank me, you know.” he sighs, falling back on the couch, taking off his jacket and placing it to the side. he pulls you in and you fall right onto his knees.

“i’m your best friend.” he states, offering you comfort through his presence and words. you nod, sinking deeper into his embrace, folding your arms around his neck.

“i couldn’t sleep, omi.” you tell him, “i miss atsumu.” you profess.

every time you talk about atsumu miya, a piece of sakusa kiyoomi’s heart disintegrates and clashes with the floor. he knows exactly why that happens but he’s a coward to ever admit it to you. plus he’s a part of the reason you ended up heartbroken in the first place. sakusa was the one who coerced atsumu miya into asking you out on a date. you wanted to be set up with someone decent and although sakusa wasn’t necessarily fond of the idea atsumu and you together, he still thought his teammate would be better for you than anyone else.

“i know, yn.” he pulls you closer to him, rocking you in his arms, drawing circles on your back. compared to sakusa’s athletic build, you’re more compact, so it’s always been easy for you to choose a comfortable spot in your best friend’s clasp.

“i don’t want him back, omi.” you declare, pressing your head against his clavicle, strangling the tears threatening to pour out.

it’s true you don’t want atsumu back anymore knowing that it’s impossible for that to ever happen. doesn’t mean you don’t miss what you had. the memories still exist crisp inside your head and you think about your relationship with atsumu miya a lot more than what can be considered healthy.

“but i don’t know how to move on.” you confess of your shortcomings, shifting in place to face your friend, who looks at you with guilt smearing his face.

“yn, let’s worry about moving on tomorrow.” sakusa wipes the only tear drop that begins streaming down your cheek, lifting you in his arms.

“let’s go to sleep now, okay?” he offers you a warm smile and you nod at him, jumping out of his hold to stand on your feet.

“i can walk.” you state, taking hold of his hand and make your way to the bedroom, dragging him along.

“sleep next to me, omi.” you tell him, looking at him from the corner of your eye to see if he’ll be comfortable with it. sakusa takes the hint and agrees to keep you company in your bed.

“sure.” he nods, inviting himself right next to you. he wraps his arm around your waist. you turn around to face him and bury yourself in his bosom.

it’s still raining around the city, raindrops dance along surfaces, the thunder roars, but you no longer notice the sounds discomforting you while in sakusa kiyoomi’s warmth.

(“hey hey hey!” bokuto bellows, recognising your face as you enter his apartment. he dashes your way after handing his glass of drink to shugo, requesting him to nest it for a while.

bokuto welcomes you in, sliding an arm across your waist, pulling you into the crowd accumulated at his place for the occasion.

the party at his place was bound to be grand. you knew that much. but this was way too grand even for you to take in. everywhere your eyes went, the number of people only kept multiplying. you recognized most of the faces around. your friends from fukurodani and bokuto’s new colleagues were few of the familiar ones you could recall. however, many were people you hadn’t seen before. you suppose they’re just neighbours and people who tagged along without an invite.

“wow, bokuto, you really set up a grand one, huh?” you chortle nervously, pushing through the sweating bodies to follow his lead.

“oh yea, it’s a big occasion after all.” he says graciously, voice blurring into the volume of the edm music playing in the backdrop as reaches out for your hand to secure your company.

bokuto got scouted by the jackals last week and it was a huge deal for him do receive the opportunity to play in the v league. this party was organised to commemorate his achievement. except it was supposed to be a small union including his close friends and family and akashi was supposed to set it up. you don’t know when bokuto decided to shoulder the responsibility. but the matter surely accelerated when it fell into his hands.

“so this was you?” you ask, shouting for him to hear in order to confirm your assumptions.

“nah, it was meian.” he lets you know and suddenly it all makes sense. musubi’s boisterous and loud captain holding a party just as deafening as him. makes sense.

“i’m going to get myself a drink.” you announce, unlocking your hand from his hold, turning towards the table where akashi is serving drinks.

“alright, see you around, yn.” bokuto waves at you, quite enthusiastically, merging with the crowd to recollect his glass from shugo and to mingle around with his guests.

you navigate your way through the hoard of a number of swinging bodies to secure a spot next to akashi, who offers some lady a freshly put together cocktail.

“hey bartender, what’s the special concoction for the night?” you tease, wiggling your brows and chuckling at akashi. he rolls his eyes at your chaff.

“frozen strawberry daiquiri and rum punch.” he informs, pointing at the glass of daiquiri he prepared for himself.

strawberry doesn’t really resonate with your liking. rum punch might give you a good enough kick. you decide to ask him for a tall glass of rum punch.

“rum punch for me.” you place your order and akashi begins mixing the ingredients together. you turn around to spot a black haired, tall man you’ve only seen around bokuto, but never talked to. he leans against the railing, looking down at the road, holding a rocks glass in his right hand.

“here you go.” akaashi hands you the drink. you accept the glass he offers and stir it’s contents before you sniff to take in the sour aroma of the liquid in hand.

“thank you, i’ll be back for more.” you scrunch your nose, grinning at akashi, taking a leave from his side, sketching your way to the balcony to talk to the stranger you spotted.

“hey there.” you greet him, and your voice tugs his attention off the road stretching under bokuto’s apartment. he cranes his neck away from the cars running across the city street, allowing his gaze to conjoin your own.

“hey.” he raises a brow in confusion. you’re bokuto’s friend. that much he knows. that much he concludes, having seen you prance around their gym rather frequently. but he’s never talked to you before. bokuto didn’t introduce you to him or him to you. he just assumed you’d become friends in your own time.

“oh, my bad, let me introduce myself.” you laugh nervously, observing the shift in his demeanour. he, who was once laid back, now stands stiff in front of you.

“i’m a friend of bokuto. ln yn.” you introduce, extending your arm in hopes of receiving a decent introduction and a handshake.

“sakusa kiyoomi.” he states his name, awkwardly staring at your hand, and turns to face the road without offering you a handshake.

you find his take on the situation rude. you don’t know sakusa kiyoomi prefers avoiding physical contact or people in general. you’re imploring in his safe place right now, and unbeknownst of you, he doesn’t appreciate that very much.

when he got invited to this party, he declined several times, but he couldn’t just not show up when bokuto drove all the way to his place to pick him up this evening. when sakusa saw the amount of people at the party, he genuinely wanted to turn back and return home.

bokuto told him the balcony would be left untouched by all the guests for him to hang out and sakusa accepted his offer. however bokuto very conveniently forgot to mention that detail to you and here you are, sifting through his personal space, asking him for information about him, and he hates all about this instance.

you’re tolerable, he muses. your voice is soft, body language respectable, and although you’re very much interrupting him, you still have a cautious approach in doing so.

“so what brings you here?” you make an attempt to initiate small talk, ignoring the disrespect you were subjected to. sakusa tilts to face you again, resting his body against the railing, taking a sip from his drink. you notice it’s just plain water. he isn’t a drinker, you conclude.

“bokuto is my teammate. he invited me.” he tells you, eyeing the golden brown drink in your hand. it alerts your conscience and you lower it from its former level.

“i meant, what are you doing at the balcony?” you question, cautiously taking a sip from your drink, trying not to trigger him.

“i don’t mind you having your drink, you know.” he reassures you, putting on a gentle smile, shrugging his shoulders.

“alright.” you bow, thankful for his assent. you proceed to quaff another small sip, twirling the drink before you pour a part of it down your throat.

“i don’t like people.” he reasons with you. you understand exactly why he’s here and the reason behind his bleak introduction and the lack of manners.

“then let’s get out of here.” you suggest, raising a brow at him, grinning widely. “let’s leave. right now.”

“i’m sure bokuto wouldn’t mind.” you muse, mumbling your opinion to sakusa kiyoomi and surprisingly, he hums in agreement with your views.

“okay, let’s move out.” he nods, separating his body from the railing, fairly amused at your approach.)

sakusa met you at a party, one of his least favourite places to ever be created by mankind. his first impression of you was very very mixed. he was fond of you, but it also felt like you were poking through his space. he never said it to you. the two of you turned out to be good friends following that night. maybe there was some merit in bokuto’s decision to not introduce the two of you prior to your first formal meeting, and to not let you know that the balcony was reserved for sakusa and sakusa only.

sakusa fell in love with over next spring when he was twenty. it wasn’t a sudden realisation. it was gradual. one flutter at a time. one punch at his heart at a time. one fragment of epiphany materialising from time to time.

you’d come over for dinner and his okaasan would cook you stir fried dumplings in soup. once you learned she was a master at flower arrangement, you inherited some of the art form from her. you’d even get along with his obaasan, who even he had a hard time deciphering sometimes. you’d talk to him about the events in news and he’d always poke a finger at sakusa about your diligent habit. even his sister took a liking to you. you’d go around the market, thrifting alongside her, and sakusa would follow you around like a lost puppy, unable to understand what really went on.

sakusa’s sister was the first one to annotate his feelings for you. she could see the way his eyes changed their spark whenever you were around him. sakusa wasn’t accustomed to letting himself free, but around you, he found it easier to let loose. she confronted him about it, but he knew you’d never like him back, so he never made an effort to confess his feelings.

the day you went drinking out, he kept you company to keep a check on you. between your conversation, you asked him to set you up with someone he knew who was decent enough. you’d just dumped your clingy ex and you wanted a change of pace. sakusa, with no prior experience of dating himself, didn’t know what he had to do. so he did the next best thing and bribed atsumu into taking you out on a date once or twice.

sakusa thought it’d be a few dates before either of you got bored of each other and returned to the pace of your own lives. but neither you nor atsumu thought your newfound relationship was boring. dating turned into a serious relationship, and the relationship turned into a marriage. sakusa was happy he was one of the reasons for your happiness.

it did sting from time to time. you’d no longer visit his family as frequently, and you’d rarely ever hang out with him anymore. but the shift in your commitments was understandable. you hung out with atsumu’s family now. you spent your weekends getting to know their interests and blending in with their antics. you and sakusa still kept in touch every day but he could feel the obvious drift atsumu drew between you.

it was three days after atsumu called off the wedding. you showed up unannounced at sakusa’s place after ignoring his texts and calls for a while. you narrated the sequence of events to him and sakusa felt the weight materialising on his chest dragging him down. he knew you’d never confess or make it obvious, but sakusa knew a part of you blamed him.

you started hanging around him more frequently following the break up. there was always a silence that stretched between, irking at his heart. you never said much. he only kept you company. he never believed in god, but he still cursed him because the same god he never cared about fulfilled his wish in the most gruesome way possible. sakusa only wanted to be around you more. that would’ve been more than enough to sustain him. he just didn’t think it would be like this.

.

“omi, i can’t sleep.” you mumble underneath your quilt, shifting positions, squirming against sakusa’s body.

he hums, latching his fingers with your own, caressing his thumb against your skin. he snuggles up to you and you feel the warmth rolling out across your skin.

“even in your arms, it’s difficult.” you tell him and he feels he’s lacking somewhere. so far he was able to provide you enough comfort for it to hurt a little less, but now, his touch is no longer enough. he flinches at your words.

“yn, is something wrong?” he asks, twisting your body for it to face him. he places his hand on your cheek, rubbing off the tears he observes making their way onto your bed.

“he has a new girlfriend.” you tell sakusa and he swallows down the guilt until it scurries around his stomach.

atsumu didn’t wait much longer to inform his teammates about his new girlfriend. sakusa found out last month after atsumu went on his first date with riko. he decided to keep the details from you. he thought you’d never found out, which was a stupid assumption to draw, because word spreads fast around the tabloids when someone as famous as atsumu starts dating someone. he figured you found out after you read one of those mousy articles in a magazine.

“I saw them together at the bar last weekend.” you tell sakusa and everything he thought he knew about the situation dies down.

he didn’t think you’d end up running into atsumu and his girlfriend at the bar you went to. he was supposed to keep you company but had some personal work to look after. he feels like he’s at fault. if he would’ve been there, he would’ve driven you out before you could come across the new couple in town.

“let’s dance.” he gives you a pitiable smile, depositing a light kiss on your forehead. you twinkle back at him.

sakusa gets off the bed, draws the blanket off you, and stretches his hand out for you to receive. “come on.” he nods, convincing you to take up his offer.

you take his hand, getting off the mattress and fall into his arms. you snake your hands around him, bosoms touching as you look up to grin at him. he returns your stretching smile, even brighter and wider, and you chuckle at how pretty he looks, even when it’s dark and you’re unable to see his face clearly.

you know you’ve found your forever home. and you know he feels the same too. you just need time to forget about atsumu miya and start all over again with kiyoomi. a part of the reason why you stopped going out on dates is that sakusa kiyoomi is waiting for you to accept his love.

he’s never said it before, of course, you only know because he makes it so very obvious all the time. you don’t like making him wait. it’s like you’re a criminal for taking your own time to move on. but kiyoomi never leaves your side. he stays. day after day. you’re sure you’ll love him more than you ever loved atsumu. although the memories of the blonde setter will linger around like ghosts in the dark, you’ll learn to ignore them over time, and you’ll walk down the aisle to kiyoomi, who won’t leave you behind like atsumu did.

“let me put on some music and set the mood.” sakusa removes your arms clinging his waist and runs to draw the curtains.

he puts on the table lamps and plays a random playlist on spotify. some ed sheeran song plays behind you, and you’re hardly able to comprehend what the singer harmonises. but the melody is soft, welcomed by your ears unlike the sound of the rain and thunder booming outside the windows, and the music is good.

“here we go.” he smile like a cheshire cat, ear to ear, drawing your body in. he begins swinging you around to the beat of the song.

you laugh raucously, joy brimming all around you as follow the man’s lead. he lifts you up, twirls you around, steps on your feet from time to time, making you grimace as a tease. sakusa kiyoomi loves you in ways like this and you’re able to see through his acts of service.

the flow of the song slows down and you feel the adrenaline take over. so you lean into him. sakusa initially thinks it’s for the effects, so he cranes his neck away from you. you pull his face right in, giving yourself the liberty to kiss him.

sakusa didn’t know you liked him back. heck, he never thought you’d look him in the eye after it was his suggestion that led to the momentary downfall of your life. but here you are, slowly coming to face with you past, kissing your best friend, and sakusa is at a loss of words.

you pull back, beaming at him and he looks at you with love in his eyes. it looks a lot like when atsumu would look at you. the love in his eyes diminished to dust over time. with sakusa, you know, it won’t. the love in his brown eyes will always shine loud enough for the world to witness it.

“can you do me a favour?” you ask, swaying back and forth in his arms. he rocks you around, humming in response.

“the shirt that smells like atsumu is in my closet.” you begin, “the ring is in my medicine cabinet.” you inform about the locations of the said belongings.

“can you please put me to bed and throw the ring out?” you look up to him with expectant eyes and he nods at you.

“okay.” he agrees, lifting your face to kiss you lightly on the lips before taking his hands off your waist.

sakusa leads you to the bed and helps you secure a position. he offers you the blanket, leaving it over your body. he turns off the table lamps, shuts the curtain close and stops the music playing in your room.

he moves on to collect the belongings you mentioned about and traces his path out of your bedroom. you draw the blanket over your face and tuck yourself to slumber.

.

sakusa stands in front of the washing machine, glaring it down. the tee that smells like atsumu sits on the lid and the ring in his palms. atsumu’s smell is strong enough for him to recognise even from a distance. he wonders why you held on to it for so long. perhaps it was your way of having him to yourself when you’d lost the actual person.

he drops the tee in the machine, adds detergent and antiseptic liquid before calibrating the settings of the machine to put the washer on. he leans against the device, sensing the vibrations gleaned from the working of its motor. the ring in the palm of his hands comes into focus.

it’s platinum. it’s expensive. you want to throw it away. he knows why, but it feels wrong on so many levels to just toss it into a bin. then again atsumu was no different when he discarded his own in a random bin outside your workplace. sakusa decides he’ll exchange the ring for something better instead, so he puts it in his pockets. he just has to make sure you don’t find out about it and that’s not one of his worries.

he thinks about atsumu. he never had anything bad to say to the setter following your break up. he still doesn’t have anything foul to say to him. sakusa kiyoomi can’t hold a grudge against atsumu miya. not because they have a professional relationship to maintain. simply because he knows about the true nature of love.

people fall in love and people fall out of it. just as quick as they fell into it. and that’s okay. not every relationship is meant to be. not every couple is meant to thrive. not every instance of love is meant to be a forever thing. although there was always a light shining across the course of your relationship with atsumu, the fuse went off somewhere along the way and the light dimmed off.

sakusa muses he’s no one to hold a grudge in the first place. he wasn’t the one who was dumped a week before his big day. he wasn’t the one who was promised a future. he wasn’t the one who made sacrifices to win the setter’s love. he has no reason to hate atsumu miya so he doesn’t. that doesn’t mean he agrees with how atsumu handled things.

sakusa still talks to him as much as he used to. not more or less. they don’t bring up about the relationship. he tried asking atsumu about his reasons. atsumu told him there wasn’t anything to share. he just fell out of love. that was a good enough reason for sakusa. he wouldn’t want you to be a part of a loveless relationship that would’ve dragged you down furthermore. he never brought up the conversation again. exchanges between him and miya stayed minimum as they used to be.

(“welcome to onigiri miya, is there something i can get for you?“ the owner of the shop shows off a glimmering grin as you walk into his store at half past eight in the morning.

you’re supposed to collect lunch for yourself and a co worker who requested you to get her some, before you head out to the office camping trip scheduled for today. you offer the owner a smile of your own.

“can you pack two plates of ikura?” you humble yourself, asking if the said food item is available for the go. you wouldn’t expect everything on the menu to be available this early in the morning.

miya onigiri is the only store around this clump of streets that opens before eleven. which turned out great for you because driving all the way to a second location wouldn’t have been feasible.

“sure, we can.” the owner, miya, replies enthusiastically, putting his thumb up into the air. you bow to him, thankful for his service at this time of the day.

you lock yourself a cozy seat next to the window where you can see the view of the city. the streets aren’t crowded right now, but the number cars and people will inflate by the time it’s nine in the morning.

the first thing you notice looking around the shop is the choice of napkins made out of silk cloth rather than tufts of tissue papers like most restaurant owners would prefer. you suppose it has something to do with the whole concept of being eco friendly. washing off the stains must be a real chore, you think. you wonder if his employees dislike their boss for that.

while you’re distracted scrutinising the environment of the shop, your attention is demanded by the loud thud of the door closing behind the blonde man who sprints inside the shop. he looks a lot like the owner. you conclude they’re twins.

“osamu?” he shouts, looking for his supposed brother who owns this place. so the owner’s name is osamu, you muse, only knowing the last name due to the obvious name of the store.

“oh, he isn’t here.” you extend the information you have regarding the whereabouts of his brother. “he’s preparing an order for me.” you add and the setter tilts his neck to face you.

“and you are?“ he asks dubiously, inching in closer to grab a chair across you and settles in, legs spread, huffing in breathlessness.

“just a customer.” you roll your eyes, sighing and atsumu mumbles something under his breath. as curious as you are, you don’t ask about it.

“i’m the owner’s older brother.” he tells you and you applaud yourself for coming to the correct conclusion earlier. he goes on to tell you more about himself, and although you aren’t interested, you give it a listen, humming in between to depict your vigilance.

osamu walks in with your order, faced with his older brother troubling his customer which is a very common occurrence. no matter the countless times osamu has asked him not to, his brother still repeats his vices.

“here you go.” he hands you the paper bag that smells like spices and sauces, but the smell of hot onigiri soon over takes, and you feel pleasant in its company.

“stop troubling my customers, tsumu.” osamu warns his older brother, whose name you note is tsumu, or just a nickname. osamu swats his brother’s shoulder, glaring at him in vexation.

“oh don’t worry, he wasn’t any trouble.” you dispel osamu’s concern, smiling gently on your way out of the store.

you run into the infamous tsumu again when bokuto gets scouted by his new team and tsumu happens to be their official setter. but it isn’t before sakusa kiyoomi’s advent in your life that atsumu miya becomes a much bigger part it.)

sakusa returns into the bedroom to fill in the spot next to you. he wraps his arms around your waist as you hum to acknowledge his presence next to you. you place your palms on his, moving closer into his space.

“good night, yn.” he maffles, yawning indistinctly in discipline.

“good night, omi.” you reciprocate, shifting in your space to adjust your position next to him until both of you feel at ease.

“i love you.” he considers it for a while before he says it to you. he thinks there’s nothing wrong in letting you know how he feels about you even if you won’t resonate just yet.

“mhm.” you mumbles, kissing his hand, letting him know that you accept his feelings for you, but it will be a while before you can say those words to him. they hold a lot of meaning to you after all.

he knows it will take time for you to warm up to him. the traces atsumu left behind still glisten from time to time. but sakusa will wait patiently until those lingering memories get wiped out and you no longer hold yourself back from his love.

.

#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu anime #haikyuu manga #haikyuu x you #haikyuu angst #atsumu x reader #sakusa x reader #atsumu x you #sakusa x you #atsumu x y/n #sakusa x y/n #hq atsumu #hq sakusa

[kptssecretsanta]

The KPTS Secret Santa 2022 Reveal Post

Ho Ho Ho!

It’s time to conclude the first edition of the KPTS Secret Santa :)

Hope you’ve all had a lovely holidays and that you’ve enjoyed all the amazing gifts that were posted!

I'd like to give special thanks to @emberfaye, @wildelydawn & @cloudburst-ink with helping me out as pinch hitters, making sure no one would be left empty handed! Thank you darlings <333

If you’d like, you can still add your works to the AO3 Collection! Just poke me if you do, and I’ll add the link to the Tumblr gift post as well. I've just revealed the archive as well. You can also repost your gift(s) to your own Tumblrs now, of course :)

That’s all from me in terms of service announcements, hope to see you all again next year! 

-x- Leonie (leetje)

*****

Are you all ready to find out who your secret santas were? :D

The list is in alphabetical order:

@accal1a made a gift for hedgewyse - gift here

@anatomyofadreamer made a gift for mightymightygnomepriest - gift here

@answermywearyquery made a gift for bluethanmyself - gift here

@apainting-ghost made a gift for justanothervariant - gift here

@awwfuckno made a gift for languishingindian - gift here

@becomingabeing made a gift for marellyjeon - gift here

@bluethanmyself made a gift for vegasandhishedgehog - gift here

@cloudburst-ink made a gift for emberfaye - gift here

@cloudburst-ink made a gift for tinycharliechoo - gift here

@emberfaye made a gift for sivan325 - gift here

@fanonplussed made a gift for skinsharpenedteeth - gift here

@garsideofthemoon made a gift for leetje - gift here

@suirenzhe made a gift for accal1a - gift here

@guzhu-furen made a gift for lu-sn - gift here

@hedgewyse made a gift for cloudburst-ink - gift here

@justanothervariant made a gift for redcole - gift here

@languishingindian made a gift for anatomyofadreamer - gift here

@lu-sn made a gift for apainting-ghost - gift here

@marellyjeon made a gift for becomingabeing - gift here

@mightymightygnomepriest made a gift for thinkingaboutelephants - gift here

@mortimerlatrice made a gift for garsideofthemoon - gift here

@redcole made a gift for answermywearyquery - gift here

@sivan325 made a gift for the-water-nixie - gift here

@skinsharpenedteeth made a gift for suzteel - gift here

@suzteel made a gift for fanonplussed - gifts here  &   here

@the-water-nixie made a gift for suirenzhe - gift here & here

@thinkingaboutelephants made a gift for givemeunicorns - gift here

@tinycharliechoo made a gift for viva-yas-vegas - gift here

@vegasandhishedgehog made a gift for wildelydawn - gift here

@viva-yas-vegas made a gift for awwfuckno - gift here

@wildelydawn made a gift for guzhu-furen - gift here

@wildelydawn made a gift for mortimerlatrice - gift here

Go forth and shower your santa in some loving!

#kptssanta22 #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche #vegaspete #kimchay

[revenant-coining]

Rain Themed Names, 3rdpp, and Titles

[ pt: Rain Themed Names, 3rdpp, and Titles ]

requested by @asher-makes-art

Names: Pluvia / Pluviam, Nimbus, Imber / Inber, Nebula, Aer, Rain, Hail, Mist, Rainfall, Raindrop, and Sun Shower

Pronouns:

rain/rain/rains/rains/rainself

drizzle/drizzle/drizzles/drizzles/drizzleself

hail/hail/hails/hails/hailself

mist/mist/mists/mists/mistself

monsoon/monsoon/monsoons/monsoons/monsoonself

rainfall/rainfall/rainfalls/rainfalls/rainfallself

rain/fall/rains/falls/rainfallself

rainstorm/rainstorm/rainstorms/rainstorms/rainstormself

rain/storm/rains/storms/rainstormself

sleet/sleet/sleets/sleets/sleetself

cloudburst/cloudburst/cloudbursts/cloudbursts/cloudburstself

cloud/burst/clouds/bursts/cloudburstself

raindrop/raindrop/raindrops/raindrops/raindropself

rain/drop/rains/drops/raindropself

sprinkle/sprinkle/sprinkles/sprinkles/sprinkleself

sun/shower/suns/showers/sunshowerself

pour/pour/pours/pours/pourself

💧/💧/💧s/💧s/💧self

🌧/🌧/🌧s/🌧s/🌧self

☔️/☔️/☔️s/☔️s/☔️self

⛈/⛈/⛈s/⛈s/⛈self

🌦/🌦/🌦s/🌦s/🌦self

Titles:

the rain

the mist

the rainfall

the rainstorm

the cloudburst

the raindrop(s)

the sun shower

@pronoun-arc

#🪼 creations #category: lists #category: name lists #category: pronoun lists

[very-uncorrect]

I just went through one of those cloudburst things where there's the heaviest shower you've ever seen, in a small area, that lasts for like a couple minutes maximum, I was in the car the whole time, and they're fucking weird and amazing in person, like these giant fat drops of rain bouncing far off the ground and creating mini rivers everywhere and then vanishing a blink later

Had to cut the video short because my dad opened the window on my side and soaked me, I hate him (affectionate)

#uk weather #uk #weather #cloudburst

[h0neyd]

swamp

I used to think I was empty/ but I am a shower/ a cloudburst/ a flood/ I saturate/ soak you in my words/ my blood/ my love/ 

I never learned to swim/ I don’t expect you to learn for me/ but you choke and sputter/ and I ache/ I am terrified for the day that I drown you/

So I pull back/ I open my mouth and try to swallow up everything that I’ve ever unleashed on you/ I can never seem to get it all back in/ there is always more where it came from/

Nonetheless, I dry us off/ Towel your sweet skin and leave you in the sun to recover/ I lock my reservoir away/ so sure that dehydration is better than drowning/  so sure that I can save you/ but you wheeze and gasp/ I tremble/ I cannot watch you wizen/

I let out a tear/ a drizzle/ a thunderclap/ and then the dam breaks/ and you are trying to drink/ to wade/ to stay afloat/

The downpours always leave me submerged in shame/ the waves weathering me to a thin slate/ it is then that I try to mop up my mess/ to be clean enough/ good enough for you/

The droughts rack me like withdrawals/ sweating/ gagging/ sobbing because you are missing from me/ because I am too much for my own body/ so I know that I am too much for you/

I want to be your oasis/ how happy I could be to let you drink as you please in passing/ let you have your fill of me and then leave/ but I am a flood/ and that is the fucking tragedy/

There is plenty of me/ I just could never seem to give you the right amount/

#i wrote this after having a conversation with my friend ab how neither of us felt like we would ever be able to be in a relationship #how we are both intense and wild and felt like we were made to observe love #never to participate #poetry #original poem #poems on tumblr #poems on mental health

[project1939]

Good Housekeeping, September 1952. This article wonders if the commercialization and rampant spending on Bridal Showers has gone too far. In 1952! A generation ago, she writes, "the shower was a simple sprinkle, not a cloudburst. ... Showers are rapidly reaching the saturation point." Oh, darling, I'm afraid not! If you could only see into the future!

#project1952 #1952 #1950s magazines #project1952 day 59

[sszeemedia]

Heavy rains in Himachal Pradesh kill 60 people; 3 dead in Uttarakhand; IMD predicts heavy showers for next two days

The unprecedented rain in Himachal Pradesh has killed 60 people as of Wednesday in the recent incidents of landslides blocking major roads, overflowing rivers washing away homes and a cloudburst. In a tragic accident, the Shiv Bawari temple in the Summer Hill area of Shimla collapsed due to landslide, killing 12 people and many fear dead or trapped, while a cloudburst in Solan district of…

View On WordPress

#Climate Change #Cloudbrust #enviornment #heavy rainfall #Himachal Pradesh #IMD #Landslides #News #Rains #Uttarakhand

[homespun-stories]

Sounds like home

The noise outside our apartment is incessant. Drilling, digging, banging, beeping. “BIG DIGGER!” our toddler exclaims, every time we leave the building, as the only one who finds any joy in the construction works which have been taking place for over three months.

Needs must. The council is improving the drainage on our road to account for increasing numbers of cloudbursts in our climate-challenged future. And they’re reducing the number of lanes for cars, whilst maintaining the glorious raised and paved cycle path that means I can bike with my daughter to daycare and not panic about being blindsided by a bendy bus. We’ve even heard a rumour they’ll plant some trees in the midway, giving a more cosmopolitan feel to what has already been euphemistically called a ‘boulevard’. So I guess I can put up with the noise.

But it does set the mind wondering about what it might be like to live outside of the city. My daily life is soundscaped by what amounts to the continuous noises emitted by other people living and doing. We are one of 32 homes in a block of flats totaling over 100 homes arranged around a shared courtyard. I can never not hear the lives of others ricocheting off the walls; the squeals, groans, shouts, coughs and cries of existence bouncing off the brickwork and into my ears. A few weeks ago, my husband and I lay in bed at midnight, staring at the ceiling in the blue moonlight and cursing the asshole who decided to throw a party and leave their windows open. “We have to MOOOOOOVE”, I stage-whispered, frenzied by the need to sleep. When the music finally fell silent, our cat shuffled into life and started yowling for breakfast around 3am, followed by the dawn chorus of our daughter who believes it’s acceptable to wake her parents at 4:30am to ask for raisins. Soon the water pipes that rise up through every apartment were groaning and hissing into life, as people traipsed to the shower and put the kettle on. And before we knew it, the drilling, digging, banging and beeping began. And on it goes.

In 2006, I lived in New York for a stint. My first night in Hell’s Kitchen, propped up on an inflatable mattress in my friend’s studio apartment, was like trying to sleep during a Fast & Furious screening. Constant police sirens, every neighbourhood bar with its doors flung open, more than two people having a conversation… New York streetlife is expansive and vibrating with noise, every single minute of the day. It truly is the city that never sleeps, because who the hell can with all that racket going on? During that winter, there was a major snowfall that ground everything to a halt. Trains were canceled, roads were closed, people lost power and water for days - it was hard and sad, sure, but I just remember the silence. I padded out in my most sensible shoes and walked 25 blocks to the MoMA (defiantly open, despite the weather), listening to my breathing in a city that had finally been muffled by a thick, white blanket of snow.

I’ve lived in all kinds of homes, in all kinds of places, but I’ve never lived in the countryside. The closest I’ve come is the house my parents rented when we moved to the East Midlands, which sat on the very edge of a suburban housing estate and was flanked on the back by fields. It wasn’t unusual to find a cow trapped in our hedge, eating her way into our garden, but I never thought of it as ‘the country’. The lights of the nearby city were too bright, and the buses and cars that trundled down the main road were confirmation that the urban sprawl had us in its clutches. Even in the suburbs, other people living and doing is always in earshot; or, as my husband says, suburbia is defined by whether you can hear a lawn mower running on a summer’s day.

But this summer, we decamped to a house in the Danish countryside for a two week holiday - something we had talked about for years, but never pulled the trigger on until now. There was an unspoken agreement that we were tired of the city - tired of the soundscape - and needed a break so we could hear ourselves think. So we found a house in the middle of nowhere, about two hours and many, many country lanes away from Copenhagen, and ventured forth. It was the most middle-aged decision we have probably ever made.

The thing I quickly realised about the countryside is that it’s not actually quiet – it’s filled with noise. Most of these noises are things I’ve not heard before, like birdsong, and some are without evident source and chill your blood in the middle of the night. Digging, drilling, banging, beeping - you know where you stand with a big digger and an overweight construction worker. But scratching, shuffling, pecking, howling…? No thanks. Some might claim this is Mother Nature’s embrace, but I got the distinct impression that she wanted me gone and was releasing an army of creatures that don’t see the light of day in the city.

I couldn’t move for spiders, for a start, and as a lifelong arachnophobic I was faced with the daily gauntlet of undertaking basic tasks whilst being watched through multiple sets of eight eyes. There was one bird which had taken residence in the garden that let out a cry resembling a squeaky toy, and another that informed everyone the sun had risen by doing a perfect impression of Janice from Friends: “Ahhhhh-uh-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ahh”. The wasps and bees I could just about handle, but it took a Herculean effort to casually brush away the potato-sized hornet that landed on my husband’s back without alarming my daughter. If fear is contagious, then I felt toxic by that point.

Even when we sat indoors, with the windows closed against the advancing hoards of wildlife, it was never truly still. The ever-present flies smashed themselves against walls and doors as they endlessly worked their way throughout the house, sending my husband into a murderous rage with a fly swatter each evening. And one night we witnessed a biblical thunderstorm that suddenly bathed the bedroom in silky white light as the rain smashed down through the trees.

We spent most of our days driving away from the house to other places in the countryside or on the coast, craving a little civilisation other than the nearest supermarket. Whatever flirtation I had with being a country bumpkin was gone within days, as I realised that the sounds of living and doing in cities were the very reason I live and do in the city in the first place. Even when I went for a run, and witnessed two enormous nutbrown hares and a deer bound right past me, I had Lizzo blaring away in my ears. You can take the girl outta the city, etc etc.

We returned to Copenhagen with a camera roll full of memories and an urgent need to hit up our favourite cafe for coffee and baked goods. I walked with my daughter down the highstreet, smiling inanely at the various window displays and signage like I was on day release from residential care. The barista at the cafe met me with a big grin, and remarked that she hadn’t seen us in a while. “We’ve been away for two weeks but it feels like two years”, I replied with a sigh, unaware of the truth until it left my lips. It was the longest I had been away from Copenhagen in over seven years.

The profound irony is that summer is the best time to be in Copenhagen if you’re looking for a little peace and quiet, because the city empties out when every Danish family makes their annual pilgrimage to their summer house. More often than not, construction works are put on pause and plenty of local shops and restaurants shutter up for a wee break. In these passing silences, you become more aware of the absence of presence, or the presence of absence perhaps. And for almost four decades, I’ve lived a life in earshot of the presence of so many other lives that their absence feels like part of my home is missing. 

The next morning, we awoke to the creak of the floorboards as our daughter made her way to our bedroom to put in some insane pre-dawn request, which our cat took as her cue to start smashing the blind against the window in disgust at our failure to put her food out. Before long, the water pipes started up their music, and I listened to our neighbour chatting with his kids over the bathroom sink. Soon the diggers would arrive, much to the delight of my daughter, and breakfast would be accompanied by the dulcet tones of a pneumatic drill.

It’s so good to be back home.

#LifeAtHome #FeelsLikeHome #Soundscape

[sussex-nature-lover]

Sunday 31 July 2022

 This Week’s Garden Life

very old and dim phone pic of when the ducks used to visit for a dip

As I’ve been documenting, we finally got around to renovating our decades old, neglected garden pond and it really is a learning curve this time, because when it was put in, someone else did all the work and presented us with the finished article - all of which had either died off or degraded so that we were left with what the girls nicknamed The Swamp. Ugh.

This is where we want to get to, although our base is less rocks and more largish pebbles and the sides of our pond shelve much more gently for half the perimeter. 

The first visitors to the pond were extremely plentiful, but not particularly exciting and I had to make some enquiries to identify them - they were literally all over the surface.

stock photo from the internet

I had no idea what the flies were. After photos and asking on Twitter I found that they’re colourful Semaphore Flies - Poecilobothrus nobilitatus, a common insect found on the surface of ponds. Apparently the adults are typically found wherever there is pond-weed or algae and we certainly didn’t have either and still don’t, the blue dye has been keeping it at bay so far. They seem to have disappeared now and it’s mainly pond skaters and quite big, black, diving beetles that we see.

The adult flies are predatory (and so are the larvae) feeding on a range of invertebrates and, I read, mosquito larvae, which I was pretty pleased to learn. The photo above is a male, as told by the white tips on the wings.

While I’m on the subject of reproducing, I had to get help to identify this jelly-like sack. Every couple of days I have to clear the spray nozzles on the solar fountains. The holes are tiny and very easily blocked with any bit of grass, leaf or petal that enters the pond. I know this appeared more or less overnight. It’s apparently from a pond snail. I’m constantly amazed how these creatures find the water.

I put this particular photo on my other blog page, which is shorter entries and less text. You could find it HERE if you’d like a look. I’ve included it again because it’s one of the blue damselflies, but not one I usually see. It’s the White Legged type.

Not fabulous photos, but considering my buzzard pics are usually of mere specs in the sky, I was pleased to be able to track this one as we sat down by the pond one afternoon. At least you can tell for yourself what it is. They’re amazing birds.

Whenever we go down the garden, and he’s around, we always get company. This is from when I put the sun dial on a log by the pond and of course, it had to be investigated immediately.

We hadn’t filled the pond overly full, so we leave room for when the inevitable downpours start, but as you can see, we’ve found the level’s dropped hugely during this recent hot spell. We have had a couple of cloudbursts and the odd half a dozen spots of rain, but they haven’t had any impact and now, of course, we’re all having to use water very carefully.

Our local reservoir is the largest in the south east and it’s currently at 64% capacity. The lowest this century was about 38%, so it’s not yet at crisis point but we all need to do our bit to preserve levels and supplies wherever we live.

We’ve always been fairly water conscious, neither of us bathe as we prefer to shower anyway, we’re collecting rain water to use in the garden as much as possible, we never water the lawn like we used to, and not washing the windows or the car as much as Crow might like etc etc, but we do need to pass the word round and continue the whole War on Waste.

In other garden news, I brought the trail cam in from the woods because I really wasn’t capturing any footage and it’s not found anything out of the ordinary yet, but what it does do is promote that feeling that once we’ve gone to bed the garden’s a magical place turned over to whichever creatures want to come out and play.

So far we’ve got stills and footage of wood pigeon, starlings, blackbirds and crow, squirrels and rabbits - all of which we see during the day anyway, but also a fox, who we see very occasionally during daylight hours, but we’ve found out that she has two cubs and we hadn’t seen or heard them at all.

My sunflowers in a tub are starting to bloom. They were just from seeds in the garden bird seed, so not particularly great shakes, but it always delights me to have grown something, because it’s such a rare event. To get better results I was going to transplant them in to the flower bed, but on balance decided they had a better chance of survival in a tub where the rabbits and Inspector Pritchard were more likely to leave them alone. So far, so good.

The almost done for rose that’s in a dust bath under the line of trees, is coming back to life with my TLC. In the Autumn we’ve going to get the rose bushes from this area up and transplant them somewhere more hospitable.

No problem with growing weeds though, even through the membrane topped with stones as this ragwort shows, brambles too - they get everywhere and we need to get pulling them up and digging them out where possible.

Yesterday I took the batteries out of the trail cam to recharge them and wouldn’t you know, forgot to re-set the clock, so these times are more than12 hours adrift. The solar lights had gone out so I think, that must be someone’s eye reflected and, I got so excited WHAT ELSE IS THAT (above the last 2 in 2022)???!!!?? Could it be one of the big three I’m looking for? The big three being deer (fairly likely) badger (a bit of a long shot, but possible) or hedgehog - who I am dearly looking forward to welcoming back to the garden again. I scour the grass for evidence that they’ve been here and I think they may visit, but, you know, after all the rabbit, peacock and fox leavings, I do sometimes wonder if my tracking instincts start to morph to my own agenda. Anyway, can you see it? the little hedgehog that triggered the camera. Aaaaaaw. I was so excited to tell Crow. I have to admit that as I was telling and showing him, his facial expression was a cross between sheepishness maybe? and amusement.

The snippets don’t download in chronological order for some strange reason and a later photo exposed that I was a victim of an inadvertent ‘hoax’

What do you make of it?

A still from the earlier evening before it got dark gave the game away.

My pleasure was dashed.

Here it is in full colour.

With added peacock for scale.

Inspector Pritchard and the one remaining long tail feather studying the scene of the mystery

Crow had thrown out half of a round loaf which had been forgotten and gone hard. It had rolled down the garden and unintentionally landed in the camera’s field of vision. Gaaah! so no hedgehogs as yet then. We live in hope. I’m off to reinstall the memory card and change the clock for tonight and at the next download I’ll be sure to look for the earliest photo and footage first!

#gardens ponds birds nature pranked flies damselfly

[dirtydawnie]

The night was hot and sultry, the promise of one hell of a storm in the air. Humid enough that just a moment outside would have your hair curling and your clothes clinging to your skin. The couple didn’t seem to mind the heat, or care that there was most likely going to be a storm. They were caught up in each other in a way that only the very in love could be. Close together despite the heat, he wasn’t bothered by it, and she didn’t care.  He had his hand around her and in the back pocket of her short cut offs as they walked, and she had her body tucked against his. A stray bolt of lightning struck far off and she did what she had done since she was a child and feared the storms. “One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand…” And so on until she reached seven and the rumble of thunder reached them. The rain would come soon. Her man tightened his arm around her, knowing storms weren’t her favorite thing. She was okay though, he had her.

They were in her hometown and she had shown him some of the landmarks of her childhood and was walking past where her home had stood. Now there was a barn there, the smell of hay tickling her nose. As the first drops of rain fell, she laughed. She took him by the hand and ran inside the barn. The storm broke overhead as they made it inside. Thunder and lightning crashing around them, shaking the barn. They, of course, paid no mind. They were wrapped up in each other, kissing slowly while the storm raged. It was comforting to have him to cling to during the summer cloudburst. He held her tight as the wind slammed the barn door and washed a sheet of rain at them. His cool lips on hers and his hands on her hips had her thinking of making use of the hayloft, a secret smile curing her lips. She was happy, despite the underlying fear of the storm.

It was over as suddenly as it began, leaving nothing but a soft and warm rain behind. She pulled him to the door and held his hand, leaning against him. She stuck her arm out, palm up, to catch drops on her hand and gave him a grin before she ran out into the rain, arms out as she spun in a circle, face uplifted and catching drops in her mouth. He stood in the door watching her, bemused by her behavior. He never understood some things she did; he just enjoyed how the rains made her clothing cling to her body. Her voice was low as she kicked her shoes off, “I love the music of the rain, don’t you?” He cocked his head, wondering what she was doing, by then she was lifting her tiny tank top off, that knowing grin on her lips. “And I love to dance to it…” He watched her intently; never making a sound, as she shimmied out of her cut offs and tossed them and her top at him. He caught them easily and his own secret smile began to spread when she started to dance.

First it was just her hips, swaying slowly to the rhythm of the rain, then her hands. They lingered over every one of her soft curves. His eyes followed the movement of her hands, imagining his own making the same movements as hers. Her eyes were closed and she was dancing for him in the rain, bare but for the tangled wet mass of her hair, to music that was theirs alone. He was aroused, as he normally was around her, but this was different. Somehow. She changed the pace, moving faster, and her feet in the puddles. Her eyes now open and staring at him. She spun, her hair flying and spraying more water. She was moving closer, coffee colored orbs locked to his blue. She stopped a few feet away and held her arm out to him. He was still in the doorway of the barn, smirking at her. She crooked her finger at him, and when he didn’t move, she moved closer still and took hold of his shirt. He let himself be pulled into the warm summer shower, tilting his face up much as she had.

She spun again, and then pulled his arms around her to rest on her hips while her back was to him. He massaged her wet and warm skin, lips on her ear. She began to move again. Slow, never ceasing her hips movements, brushing against his arousal, she let the rains sound guide her. His clothing was soaked through and they were dancing in the rain. She felt light, like the rain was shielding them from the rest of the world, even with being so exposed. Anyone could happen along and catch them in their dance. She turned to him, her movements unhurried. Her firm breasts pressed to his chest and she pressed her lips to his finally. Her movements deliberate as she nipped his lip and pushed his wet t-shirt over his head, she walked her fingers over his pale chest.

She took her time, dancing with his hands on her skin while she undressed him. He moved with her, keeping his hands on her while she worked his clothes loose and off. When they finally were both bare to the rain, they stood there, pressed one against the other, her arms wound around his neck and kissed. They were paying no attention to the rain falling on them; they only knew each other in that moment. Her body warm and wet, his cold and firm. They began moving to the barn, lips still pressed in a leisurely kiss, hands petting and brushing over each other.

He picked her up once inside and carried her swiftly up the ladder to the hayloft. She found a blanket and laid it over a few bales of hay and laid on it, beckoning him. He was there in a blink, she trilled out a laugh at his sudden eagerness until his fangs grazed her throat. Then she was suddenly eager as well. He was moving his hands over the peaks of her breasts, his arousal against her thigh. They kissed again before she pushed him over and straddled him on the hay. He put his hands behind his head and watched her as she dragged her tongue down the column of his throat, her nails scraping his chest. As she kissed her way down his chest, she let her hands stroke his member. His hips bucked a little under her while her teeth tugged at one of his nipples. He was ticklish, so she deliberately nibbled under his belly button, making him fight laughter, all while still moving her tiny hand over him. They were both still wet from their dance in the rain and a warm breeze was blowing in from outside, giving her goose bumps as her mouth nipped at his hipbone.

He tangled his fingers in her hair while she made her progress down. When her lips found what they wanted, she teased some more. Keeping one hand on him, she flicked her tongue over the tip of him. He jerked underneath her and she did it again. Next she wrapped her lips around him, letting her tongue swirl around. She was taking her time and teasing him. Her hand working slowly while her mouth took him in, inch by inch, a low sound of pleasure in her throat making vibrations that went through him. He closed his eyes and groaned low in his throat when she moved her hand to his hip and relaxed, taking him all the way in. She worked her mouth and tongue on him, moving increasingly faster as she did until she felt him tensing beneath her. Then she stopped and straddled him, easing him inside of her while their lips fused in a searing kiss. He bucked underneath her as she rode him slowly, his hands on her hips and his mouth on hers. She licked one of his fangs before tilting her head in invitation. He took it, biting into her neck below her ear. She hissed as much from pain as pleasure when he did. It made her roll her hips that much faster, biting always intensified their lovemaking. He drank from her neck while she rode him, his hands moving from her hips to her breasts, teasing and tugging, just hard enough to hurt. Her moans were louder now and he was growling. She was breathing raggedly and her heart was racing, making her skin flush pink underneath her dark tan.

They were both close as he drank, his hips driving up to meet hers, her nails raking his chest and drawing blood. The marks healed near as fast as they appeared. She tensed further, her moans turning into a scream of pure ecstasy as she came. It hit her like the lightning from the earlier storm, making her body tremble and tense. She felt his body stiffen as he met his own climax and growled out his pleasure as he drank more. She kept her body moving over his until they had both ridden out their bliss. She felt his fangs withdraw and his tongue moving lazily over the wound, closing it and catching any errant drops before she collapsed on top of him. She laid there a while, her head over his chest where she would hear the heart beat of a human man, but with him, there was only silence from his chest. She instead listened to the rain, a satisfied smile on her lips. They laid there a while, limbs tangled, her breathing returning to normal and him not breathing at all. She put her hands into his hair and closed her eyes. His voice was a low rumble when he told her to not fall asleep. It was going to be hard to walk back to the car after this… She wondered if he’d carry her. That was her last thought before she fell into a deep sleep. She missed his whispered words. “Ich liebe dich.” She slept on; he did eventually carry her back to the car after dressing and gathering her clothes. He could be a real bastard at times, but she could forget it on nights like these.

[goatpaste]

*sniffs you*

[Commission Prices] [Patreon] [Etsy]

#mlp #fallout oc #anthro #wc ocs #my ocs #cloudburst showers #cyclone whirl #gi #goat 12 #home #basil #barron #melancholyspot #wavekit #shadekit

[chaptersofnow]

Triplets of Lightning Dust and Rolling Thunder

Bio’s under the cut

Name: Cloudburst Showers Nickname(s): Drippy

Age: 25

Pronouns: They/Them/He/Him

Identity: Nonbinary gay man

crush/relationship: 

Parents: Lightning Dust and Rolling Thunder

Sibling: Cyclone Whirl, Monsoon Gale (triplets)

Special Talent: Vocal Mimicking, acting 

Occupation:  Voice actor

Location: Las Pegasus

Likes: Anime, cool weapons, comics, salty snacks Dislikes: getting babied, being called cute (its embarrassing!)

Bio: One of the three triplets born from Lightning Dust and Rolling thunder Often mistaken for the oldest sibling being much taller, deep voice, and full time job (not to mention act the most mature). Drippy has always tend to stay away from spending time with their siblings finding their competitive natures very annoying. He wants nothing to do with their flying challenges, only wanting to be alone and watch his shows. He is very quite, and very drab in nature. However when he does speak up he has a deep smooth voice and a sharp tongue, he can scare the living hell out of Cyclone and Monsoon. None the less his mothers love him loving giving him many nicknames, and teasing him relentlessness when they show up basically uninvited to his house to eat dinners together.  Drippy know's their mother's show up to eat at him place the most as the is the only with a steady and well paying income. To top it off he hates being babied and tends to get in fights with them about their an adult and that they shouldn't treat him like some kid, which always get dismissed by some jokes and comments from the two mares. Drippy, despite most of what can be gleamed from them, they love anime. They enjoy loud action packed animes with cool fighting, and can be found spending their free days at home binging TV and eating a ton of snack like a highschooler.

🌦️🌦️🌦️🌦️🌦️🌦️🌦️🌦️🌦️🌦️🌦️🌦️🌦️🌦️🌦️🌦️

Name: Cyclone Whirl Nickname(s): Wally

Age: 25

Pronouns: She/Her

Identity: Straight Cis Girl

crush/relationship: 

Parents: Lightning Dust and Rolling Thunder

Sibling: Cloudburst Showers, Monsoon Gale (triplets)

Special Talent: Flying 

Occupation:  Professional stunt flyer

Location: Califoalnia 

Likes: Stunts, action movies, explosions Dislikes: money problems, birds

Bio: Cyclone whirl, one of Lightning Dust and Rolling Thunder's triplets While Wally and her siblings are triplets they grew up feeling more like they were twins with Monsoon while Cloudburst was their older brother, who often isolated from them and called them annoying. Cyclone thinks Cloudburst is pretentious as hell and hates it, but its ok because she knows their mom's like her and her brother Monsoon more anyways because they got cutiemarks for being really good fliers just like their mother's wanted. Cyclone Whirl learned all she knows from Lightning Dust and Rolling Thunder and joining them in their line or work with Monsoon when old enough. They love the crazy stunts they get to do. When word got around that Ex-Wonderbolt leader Rainbow dash was bringing back the Wonderbolts after they disbanded and was looking to train fliers for the new generation, Cyclone and Monsoon were quick to sign up. They may have learned to hate rainbow dash with every fiber in their body but, the chance to be a wonderbolt like their mother's themselves once dream was a once in a life time opportunity. They trained hard for the Cloudsdale audtions, with on a moon's time before the wonderbolt's crew would arrive left Cyclone came in contact with the worst luck. Breaking her wing during one of their stunts, rendering her incapable of even audition to be a wonderbolt. Her brother Monsoon, however did make it in and she has never hated her own brother more. she's incredibly jealous and wishes she could have had the chance to compete. Not to mention their mother's keep dragging them to any training's their allowed to watch (as long as the behave, in the words of rainbow dash)

🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀

Name: Monsoon Gale Nickname(s): Moon

Age: 25

Pronouns: He/Him

Identity: Cis bi man

crush/relationship: 

Parents: Lightning Dust and Rolling Thunder

Sibling: Cyclone Whirl, Cloudburst Showers (triplets)

Special Talent: Flying 

Occupation:  Wonderbolt in training

Location: Califoalnia

Likes: Magazines, scrapbooking, storm flying Dislikes: getting yelled at, being a dissapointment

Bio: One of the three triplets of Lightning Dust and Rolling thunder Monsoon Gale grew up feeling more like a twin to only his sister Cyclone Whirl than their other sibling Cloudburst who often snapped at them when he wanted to be alone. Monsoon and Cylcone were taught all their flying tricks by their moms growing up, developing a passion for it. He likes how it feels to be so far above it all, feeling the clouds and wind and weather through his mane. While taking on a bit of a mean side from his family, he is one of the nicest ones of them. He tends to be mean for no reason with comments he makes, sometimes not really understanding the thing he is saying are rude having just picked them up from those around him. He is does have a sense of good nature with helping out others and even being a genuine fan of the EX-wonderbolt member, Rainbow dash. Which he would NEVER tell his family. His sister would never let him know a moment of peace ever again and his mothers might go ahead and disown him. So when THE Rainbow dash began recruiting young pegasus to begin training them to become a new generation of wonderbolt he was ecstatic. Even his sister could look past the rainbow dash part of it and be excited by the potential to become one of the biggest things known to flyers. When the auditions to cloudsdale rolled into town, well Monsoon feels a little guilty feeling this way, but he was secretly happy that his sister ended up unable to join. He knows her accident is terrible and she's lucky to only break the wing, but she did only break the wing and she's fine now. Now he could openly work along side his hero and openly admire her skills without his sister causing them trouble. Though his family still shows up to as many training as their allowed to and he gets very awkward, often giving rainbow dash the cold shoulder out of no where when they watch him.

#mlp #mlp next gen #fanfoals #cloudburst showers #cyclone whirl #monsoon gale

[dabisqueen]

Hurt

Dabi x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 3.3K

⇢ plot: You've been seeing Dabi for some time now, but it's far from a healthy relationship. Still so, unexpectedly it all escalates one evening.

⚠️Warning: some language and descriptions may be upsetting if you are sensitive to blood, gore, or grotesque imagery.

⇢ warnings: 18+, angst with smut and a bad ending, Dabi's a prick, implied toxic relationship, domestic violence, tw:burn wound, slight dubcon elements, smoking, drinking, kissing, unprotected sex, creampie, cum, orgasm, angry emotional breakdown (both sides), implied cheating, yelling, screaming, blood, a bit of gore, maybe lovers to enemies?

⇢ NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!

personal note: have somehow been in the mood for writing angst and hurt recently. Special thanks to @hunajan for helping me rephrase a lot of sections <3

You didn't hear anything besides the sound of the torrential downpour of rain, not even the sloshing sound of your soaked shoes hitting the wet pavement.

Looking up into the sky and letting the rain pelt onto your face, you had to laugh — not a word about cloudbursts in the weather forecast this morning.

Life had a not-so-subtle way of fucking you over.

Continuing your way home, you rolled up the collar and pulled the coat tighter to prevent the chilly water from running down your back.

It was useless.

Clutching your bag to your chest, you hoped that at least your cellphone and wallet would survive the heavenly onslaught.

While wiping the water from your eyes, you continued walking towards the high rise that you lived in. Even though it was a short walk from the train station to your apartment, you were already soaked down to your core.

With cold and numb fingers, you dug your keys from your soggy pocket before slowly unlocking the door to your apartment. Once dragging your tired feet inside, you clicked the door shut and locked it behind you.

After flicking the living room light on and stepping out of your shoes, you got out of your drenched clothes that let out a moist sound once hitting the floor. You straightened up and stretched yourself with arms raised high before staggering towards the bathroom.

Allowing the steamy water of the shower to warm up your cold skin, your brain slowly started turning its gears.

And with that came back the memories of him.

Another night of being all by yourself in the empty apartment and sleeping alone. You kept telling yourself to stop wallowing and move on. That he wasn't any good for you, that what you had with him was toxic. You kept trying to convince yourself that this had to end, hoping that he would never appear again.

But you also knew those were pointless thoughts.

Once dried off and with the towel still crowning your head, you walked towards the kitchen.

Lingering in your own thoughts, you recalled that he had disappeared again without warning or a prior message. It had been weeks now since you last saw or heard of him.

Whether he was dead, hurt, or gone forever, you didn't know.

And you didn't care anymore.

As if.

After pouring yourself a glass of Gin, you strode over to the couch and slumped down on it — not wanting to think about him or what you were going to do next. You just needed some time for yourself, just a little while to relax and breathe.

Still, there was no denying it – you yearned for him so badly and yet he kept disappearing and keeping you at distance. You placed the blame on your stupidity and loneliness for missing him so much.

With heavy emotions bearing down on you, you braced your face in your hands and let the tears run free.

You felt so broken inside, so unfilled.

You took a big inhale and released your face before reaching for the glass with the clear liquid in it.

You stared at it as if it was telling you that it would all be better if you just poured it down your throat. Without hesitation, you brought the glass up to your lips and gulped the Gin with the best intention to numb that annoying nagging voice inside of you.

It kept the thoughts in your head from racing, those half-lidded cerulean eyes from staring so seductively at you from behind your closed eyes.

You were on your second glass when the alcohol started working. Your mind dazed over, your brain all warm and fuzzy — when suddenly there was a distinct knock on the door.

You sat up sharply and focused your stare at the door.

As you checked what time it was, you knew there was only one person in this world showing up at your door this late.

And of all people, he was the last person you wanted to talk to right now.

You kept staring, wiping away the tears with your forearms, not moving when you heard a second thump, this time more demanding.

“Go away–-” You mumbled, surprised by the slur in your voice.

“'M happy to see you too.” a husky rasp came from across the door.

“Just leave me alone—” you were trying hard to sound like you meant it.

"Not gonna happen," his voice low and saturated with determination, "Lemme in."

"I'm not going to, Dabi," It was the Gin that encouraged you to be louder and more brave than usual.

Silence followed as the spoken words were slowly absorbed by the thick walls surrounding you.

"I wanna see you," he tenderly added.

You swallowed down a big sob, regained your composure, and muttered, "So what? Didn't seem to miss me the last two weeks you've been gone."

Silence.

"Dabi?"

"Still here…" you heard a thump outside the door that was followed by the same silence again.

You wiped your remaining tears off your lashes and strode over to the door. There was no sound outside except for the faint sizzle when he took a drag from his cigarette.

You leaned your forehead against the door, "You're not gonna leave, are you?"

"Nope, doll," he exhaled, the faint yet familiar smell of cigarette smoke invading your apartment and tingling your nostrils.

You turned around with your back and head resting against the door before slowly sliding down as your legs were too exhausted to hold up your weight.

"Dabi, seriously, this is not going to work."

"C’mon babe, just let me in and we’ll talk," his voice seemed to trail off.

"You can't keep doing this. I- '' you swallowed hard, bracing yourself, “I really like you. But you keep hurting me."

There was a pause again and a shuffle outside as he seemed to lean against the door.

"Can't we talk about this inside?" His voice was hoarse and low, creeping underneath your skin and having goosebumps erupt all over, "Just let me in."

"It'll only end up again with us in bed and nothing solved—" you exhaled, the corner of your lips trembling with unavoidable emotion.

An evident sigh was heard from outside, "Look, 'm sorry."

You sniffled, rubbing your eyes as if that would help understand the words better, "You're what?"

"Heard me alright, don't ask me to repeat it again," he scoffed at once, "Gonna let me in now, doll?"

You knew that stewing by yourself wasn't going to help sort out this issue, so you rolled your eyes and sighed, "Dabi?"

"Yes?" He grumbled lowly.

"Promise that we'll only talk if I let you in? Nothing else?"

"Anything for you, doll face," he rasped with a breathy chuckle.

So you stood up, unlocked the door, and let him in. Without waiting, you sat down on the couch before grabbing your drink again. The couch sank in when he sat down next to you, leaning forward to grab the remote, switching the TV on.

No other sound was in the room except for the TV, him staring at it as if you weren't there. It made you sink down even further into the cushions, unsure of what to say next.

You bit your lower lip and restlessly gnawed on it while fumbling with your hands. He flipped through the channels, filling the room with anything but conversation. His cold eyes glanced over to you, seeing how you nervously fiddled your fingers.

Then without a warning, he was on you, your protests muffled by his tender yet fierce lips on your neck and his hands trailing up your side.

Just as you were about to complain, you were cut off by his hands grabbing your face before he crashed his lips against yours. One of his hands let loose and guided yours down until it pressed against his clothed erection.

As he pulled back, a silver string of saliva connected your lips, his rapturous blue eyes looking down at you while still using your hand to stroke himself off, "Babe, I know you want this—"

His voice was low and husky as he groaned lightly in that specific way that made your face heat up and lust bloom inside your belly.

You gulped, letting him continue, the feeling of his hot and hard meat straining against his pants too enticing.

His lips spread into a cocky grin and he dipped down again. His hand released yours just to slide under your shirt, up your body, and onto your breasts.

Strong arms found their way around your back, pulling you close as he flipped around, placing you right on his crotch.

You let out a reluctant squeak as he jerked his hips up into you slow and lazy, grinning at you for biting your lips to suppress more whimpers.

“Want me so badly, huh?” he growled softly.

He firmly pulled your body against his and stared into your eyes before bringing his lips against yours. His tongue slid across your bottom lip, making you draw a deep, heady breath in response to the wave of heat sweeping through you. The corner of his mouth curled into a sheepish grin, as he lightly slipped his tongue between your lips. Then, with his soft warm mouth abusing yours, sucking your lips, he dipped his tongue past your lips, coaxing them open.

You felt a fluttering inside, your body craving him so badly. A shallow gasp escaped from within you while his breathing became heavier, the tidal wave of lust that had just churned within you grew rapidly into a full-blown tsunami.

He pulled back a little and looked at you, shakily exhaling.

Hooking his fingers under your shirt, he pulled it off and your bra followed with one smooth snap of his talented fingers, having your breasts spill free.

With tongue flat against your skin, he licked along your breast before sealing his mouth around your puckered nipple and starting to suck the sensitive nub hard. A gasp fell from your lips, making him smile, his teeth grazing along your delicate flesh and sending shivers up your spine.

"Let's move this somewhere more comfortable," his raspy voice mumbled and before you could protest, he forced his lips on yours again and swallowed up your feeble protests. His hands dug into the skin of your butt and with a swift strong move, he got up and carried you off to the bedroom.

He laid you down on the soft sheets, his mouth still attached to yours as he made quick work of your pants, pulling them off in one go.

Every little mewl and protest was relentlessly swallowed up by him while his hand slid underneath the hem of your underwear, his dexterous fingers starting to play with your sensitive nub, dipping down repeatedly between your folds to gather your juices. You moaned softly in response, having him snicker and release you before admiring the glistening strings of your slickness between his spread fingers.

“You're soaked baby," he chuckled, "Can't tell me you don't want this.”

“I didn't want this to end in bed—” you protested but he just tutted quietly while getting up and undressed.

"Your body’s telling me otherwise" he cocked his head, staring you down as his lips curled into a smirk.

He leaned back as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his lean, muscular torso.

His nimble hands unbuckled his pants next, pushing them along his thighs before they dropped to the floor and allowed his thick cock spring free— he never was too fond of underwear.

After stripping you out of your clothes, he moved his body on top of you and leaned in for another longing kiss.

With an agonizingly slow pace, he guided himself into you, thrusting his length inside inch by inch. He let you adjust to his size for a moment before starting to move, at first just grinding into you, then deeper, hitting just every right spot each time he sank into you.

There was no denying it. It felt so good to be so close to him. Feeling him inside of you as he fit so perfectly.

He pinned you down with his whole body, breathing heavily as he started fucking you. You clung to each other tightly as his hips smacked loudly against yours. He didn't stop kissing you, hunting for your tongue, your moans and whimpers mingling with his needy groans.

As he picked up the pace, you started to get lost in the pleasure, calling out his name over and over again. Unable to focus on anything else but the feeling of him inside of you, you felt so overwhelmed by his deep, unrelenting thrusts.

He gripped your throat, forcing you in place as the tingling inside you grew into a white heat, the tension in your core growing tighter and tighter until the coil snapped and you came.

Shockingly loud moans mixed with his name spilled from your mouth, your back arched as waves of pleasure ran through you, having you clamp down on him like a vice. His hips stuttered and he followed you into bliss with a long, drawn-out groan, releasing his creamy seed deep inside of you.

He stayed in place, softening cock still inside of you with no intentions to pull out. Even though you felt sweaty and a little uncomfortable, it was nice to have his heartbeat thumping against your own.

All worries were swept away at that moment, feeling so blissed out, so close to him.

Then he rolled off, but instead of laying with you, he stood up and strutted off to the bathroom. You heard water running as he started washing himself off.

After he was done, he simply walked over to the pile of clothes that were thrown on the floor and got dressed.

"Ok, I'll be going then," with this he turned towards the door.

"You what?" You uttered in disbelief, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Heard me right, babe," his bored eyes gleaming down at you.

"W-Why— and where?" You swung your legs off the bed, hastily grabbed your shirt, and pulled it on.

"None of your fuckin business," his dry answer made your stomach twist.

"Dabi, we just had this discussion—" you swallowed the rising bile before slowly walking over to him, your voice getting louder with every word, "Stop closing up like this and stop walking away!"

"This is fuckin’ stupid," he hissed while sauntering towards the door.

"I can't do this anymore!" with your admission, hot, angry tears sprung to your eyes.

He spun around, seething, "What do you fucking want me to say, huh? To move in together? Share a fucking life?" His eyes were glowing with rage now and you made out a faint scent of burnt skin wavering through the room.

"All I want is for you to start being honest with me!" you yelled back at him.

You didn't even have time to inhale, he was on you that fast, grabbing your chin and pulling you close.

"Oh, you want the truth, huh? S'that what it is?" His furious eyes boring into yours.

You ripped at his arm, trying to pry it off of you but his grip was relentless. His digits dug into your delicate skin, sure to bruise the next day. Using his own body to back you up, he shoved you a few feet and you stumbled before he let go of you.

Catching yourself, you glared at him before rubbing your sore cheeks, "If you just need someone to blow off steam, go and just fuck some other girls."

"Oh, 'm already doing that, doll," his lips curled into a cocky smirk, cold eerie eyes scornfully burning into yours as he stood there, grinning at you with full pride.

Your heart stopped as those words sank in. All the rage that built up instantly disappeared and was replaced with a numbing cold sensation.

You couldn't control it. Your hand automatically came up and slapped him across his face.

"You're just as heartless as your father!" It barely came out as a whisper.

He froze, his chilling voice, colder than you had ever heard, growled, making goosebumps erupt on your skin, "What did you just say?"

Maybe it should've been a warning, but you didn't care anymore. The rage inside flared up again, blooming once more too strong, too hot, in your veins.

You glared at Dabi, jaw set as you forced out, "You heard me alright, you're just like Enj—"

It happened in a blur — he was on you with a vicious roar, his face contorted into a grimace, roughly shoving you across the room and against the wall by your shoulder.

There was a bright blue flash before your head and back hit the wall with such force that punched the air from your lungs.

Your vision darkened, ringing as shrill as a fire alarm in your ears— white spots danced across your retina as the taste of copper slowly overtook your tastebuds.

You first smelled it. The acrid, stomach-churning odor of burnt flesh and hair. Nauseatingly sweet and putrid, the smell was so thick and rich you could almost taste it.

Choking on air, your mind hurled back into reality with the speed of lightning. The throbbing pain in the back of your head shot through your brain, making it hard to stay conscious but you managed to stay awake anyways.

Your eyes refocused and your gaze wandered up, until your eyes met Dabi’s. And what you saw scared you more than anything you'd seen before. His usually controlled expression was now ridden with horror, even shock. His mouth kept closing and opening, desperately trying to form words. But nothing came out.

His hand, outstretched, was still smoking.

You followed his hollow gaze and turned your head towards your shoulder. Where his hand had grabbed you just a moment ago, was now an unrecognizable horrid mess of a blackened, flakey wound the size of Dabi's hand. The charred and open area of flesh was surrounded by blistered and bleeding tissue, splitting and curling away from the layers below. Surprisingly, you felt no pain though.

No, instead you felt empty.

As if from far away, you heard yourself mutter "Get out.”

"M Sorry—" He croaked, voice hoarse with shock.

Gathering all your strength, you pressed out between gritted teeth "I said to get out,” your mind swirling, trying to stand tall, swaying nonetheless.

Despair filled his expression, eyes helplessly darting between your marred shoulder and your face, his lips opening to repeat those words "M’sorry, doll, I– I didn't–"

Cold anger kindled inside you, eating you up and making you forget all about your mangled shoulder. Your vision turned from dull to red as you threw yourself at him, pounding at his chest with both your arms, having the skin of the burnt shoulder crack open and start to bleed.

"Get out, get out, get out!" Your screams were ringing through the room, echoing in your ears.

You threw yourself at him with all your might as Dabi stumbled backward each time - pale and shaking, still mumbling incoherent apologies.

You felt a surge of power as you reached out for your door, yanked it open, and pushed him outside with your last effort, before throwing the door shut and turning the lock.

For a few moments, nothing was heard from the other side before the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, becoming quieter until they faded completely.

Silence settled in.

Heavily panting, you swayed before falling to your knees, a mind-numbing pain starting to emanate from your shoulder, almost blinding your vision. You started rocking back and forth, tears continuing to flow as bitter sobs wracked your body, robbing you of the ability to scream and hardly allowing you to draw a breath.

There was not a sound to be heard from the other side of the door.

He was gone.

Forever.

Warm blood dripped down your arm and torso, pooling on the floor, slowly gelling as you kept crying - until you were empty. Empty and dead inside.

You knew it.

Life had a not-so-subtle way of fucking you over.

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