#the rest should all link back to the proper pages
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"i'm just being dramatic, in fact, i'm only at it again as an addict with a pen who's addicted to the wind..."
independent & selective oc multimuse , failed by beth .
featuring elijah holmes .
#ooc.#promo.#self promo.#oc roleplay#oc rp#bbc sherlock rp#scopophobia tw#eye contact tw#addiction tw#i have no idea how i even tag this#just uh?? hi hello love my kids??#did i make one of these for all of them because i'm extra yes#it's a little gift for me... a little treat...#source is in the fifth link#the rest should all link back to the proper pages#the lyric is from ad.di.ct with a p.e.n#elijah holmes [muse.]#elijah holmes [self.]#elijah holmes [aesthetic.]#elijah holmes [about.]
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Titan’s Blessing World Anvil Update!
Hello tumblr denizens and Worldbuilding enthusiasts! I’m here to give you a sneak peek on what the TB!ToH Lore Bible through World Anvil is gonna look like!
I’ve published a couple pages for public view of what you can expect out of this amazing site! You all might read some new information too!
First off is a standard article. It’s something akin to what you would see with Wikipedia. Eventually there will be links leading to other articles like how in this Druid info, Spiritmender will be able to be clicked on and send you to another page with much more information about them.
You can read the Druid Article here! https://www.worldanvil.com/w/the-boiling-isles-kuldir/a/druid-profession?preview=true
Next is the infamous calendar! You can click on the months, moon cycles, and holidays to get more information!
You can find that here: https://www.worldanvil.com/w/the-boiling-isles-kuldir/a/the-calendar-of-the-boiling-isles-article?preview=true
Finally my favorite, interactive maps! Much more information can be viewed here with placed markers. AND you can pan and zoom in! For now only the Right Forearm is available but expect the rest of the maps soon!
Here’s the link to the map: https://www.worldanvil.com/w/the-boiling-isles-kuldir/map/cff3ff86-3f69-4e22-bdaa-e3276d27bc00
Lastly update on TB! I’ve moved in the past month and have been getting settled. My laptop is on her last legs as well but the components for my new pc are nearly complete and I should have a fresh and proper workstation within two weeks! I’ll be able to get back finishing up the Hexside Arc and then we move on to the end of Season 1 👀. Keep an eye out! Jessi has something in store for the last bits of this arc as well.
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hiiiii muse page list update post i meant to do earlier but then i had icecream and did other things instead peace sign
this is for the full one on my page, srry i dont have it elsewhere/on my pinned yet. eventually. peace sign. as per always my multi is a billion times messier than my other blogs(guy who cant shut up)👍👍👍 atm the most proper writing will be happening on akira. probably
added general links of the gbf main story archive, and the a3 & prommy of wizard main story translations👍
on that note added sakuya & misumi (a3!) & chloe, figaro & mitile (promise of wizard) except figaro is mostly type0 verse & mitile will likely lean toward gbf au for a lil bit. thats not to say theyll stay this way (im about to reread+finish main story pt2), its just that i unfortunately am obsessed with type0. i will probably eventually put the rest of spring troupe on my 'wanna pick up' list....(person whos oshi is omi
on that note i should make a new type0 oc i need a silly class9 girlie SO bad. that was the foolery secret intel class right
i can not explain why type0 lives this much in my head
natsume (natsume yuujinchou) is on the list too now. lanna & lumina (island of happiness/a wonderful life) are there for now we'll see who else i add. none have descriptions yet, i know i have one for lanna & natsume from olds blogs but :[ i didnt wanna today
updated mika's (gbf) page with the text i wrote a while back, i'll revise it in the future. fenrir, morphe&phoebe, thelonim has events&fate eps linked on their pages now. emu has the official playlists of wxs main story & her first focus event added.
none of these links are meant in a 'check these', but rather, if you ever get interested in any of the media/characters, there's places to check. i should add the wxs digest anime to emus oh my god i forgot about that one
all the new charas are gonna take some months to be implemented properly...<3 i havent started rereading a3 still & i took a break from natsuyuu when my dog got surgery in february. they're there cuz i felt like updating the lists with links, and figured why not add the rest too. lots of descriptions are missing still. 'then why even add them' because faty was alrdy sending me stuff for figaro so why not actually put him on the list sunglass emoji
i added it on the muse page too, but if u dont know where to start then emu & fenrir are always good choices👍 once my emu break is over ill get back to all of that. phoebe is also a good choice thinking about it...
#stardust speaking !#i think about my ask box here like once every two days tho. i wanna get caught up on akira & then ill divide my attention between here&gran#and maybe ebfore im done w akira too................................we shall see:]#ANYHOW I THINK THATS ALL#i would put a 'fastest replies' scale for my muses but i also dont think itll be a worry.....???????#i think emu is the most liklely to get stuff. since shes my silly icon and header still. and then the gbf muses#and thats about the order of how ive been here overall (well mostly with ic dash comm stuff the past months but#i cant imagine itll change too much even for proper interactions#unless u jumpscare me that u know of my more lesser known media (very welcomed)#any type0 fans in chat#ok thats all i did. i didnt even get to the akira reply i wanted to do today too much stuff happened
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April 2023 Updates
Hello! I have some updates I’d like to share with you going into this month.
I have a lot to cover, so I’ve put it under a read more. Basically, I'm moving! And it's going to have a lot of positive changes!
I genuinely appreciate your patience and kindness with me during this hectic time. Here are some links if you're interested in my work! Thank you so much ♥
My comic
My videos
Twitter
Patreon
Ko-fi
Updates below!
About my future:
Recently I mentioned I'm going to be moving. I'm trying to go near the end of the month, so this month will be a wild one for me! But this move is a very, very good thing that will have a positive impact on my well being and my workflow.
Preparing to move has had my hands full, which is why I've been inactive recently. After the move is done, my productivity should start to significantly improve. I would like to update you on my plans for my comic, my art, and my videos.
I know I've been very quiet, and that my workflow has been slow for a long time now. But there's going to be positive changes going into the rest of the year, and I hope you enjoy what's to come. Thank you so much for supporting me, for being patient with me, and for always being so kind to me!
About my comic:
My comic is very important to me, and something I love dearly. In recent years the rate of new pages has slowed down significantly, and this has by and large been because of stuff in real life making it difficult to work on it. This move will be a very positive change for me, and it's my hope that my comic can start picking up again this year.
I do plan to start updating it again this month, with the next page going up on my website on Monday (April 3). While I can't make too many pages this month because of the move, I want this to be the start of my comic getting back on track.
My comic means a lot to me, and I want to finish the current arc as a comic no matter what. We're approaching the end of chapter 6, and chapter 7 will be the final chapter of the arc (but not the end of the story!) We're right next to some major story developments, and I'm very excited! I hope you enjoy what's to come.
Comic updates will always be up first on my Patreon and uploaded publicly to the website later. Thank you so much everyone who has supported my comic through the years! I honestly couldn't have gotten this far without you.
I have one more important thing about my comic. While I fully intend to finish drawing the current arc, I am unsure if I can continue running the website it's hosted on. I've been having issues with it recently, and I don't know if I will be able to continue affording to host it after this year. This is something I'll have more information on later when I have a clearer picture, but for now I wanted you to know that it's possible the website could be going away, and I've started uploading the comic to some mirror sites to be safe.
About my art:
I really want to be more active with my art going into the rest of the year. It's been difficult for me to draw, but I love to draw very much, and I want to get that drive for it back. I hope to be able to draw a lot more once my move is finished.
And on that note, I also hope to open commissions again later this year! I haven't taken public commissions in a really long time, so I'm nervous, but excited! And I'll have a lot more information about that once I'm ready.
I've also mentioned for a while now that I hope to open an online store this year. This is something I can more seriously pursue once I've moved. To be honest, the biggest reason I haven't opened a store yet is because I'm not comfortable doing so in my current location. Moving will give me the opportunity to open a store proper, and I'm extremely excited for that!
One of my first goals after I've settled down is to create some new physical merch to test the waters with. I have some fun ideas for what I'd like to do, and I'm excited to share them with you all!
About my videos:
Last year I started uploading my playthrough of FFXIV: Endwalker to my game channel. This was a lot of fun to work on! It got me more interested in video content creation, and started my journey into learning video editing.
My Endwalker videos are up to date, and I haven't had the chance to make any new videos since then. This has been because of the upcoming move, and I won't be able to create any new videos until after the move is done. But this is something I'm excited to explore further! And I have a lot of things I want to do!
While my channel currently focuses on Endwalker, this isn't the only thing I'd like to create for it. I have other games I plan to upload to the channel in the future (including a lot of Final Fantasy games), as well as some shorter videos separate from my playthroughs. I hope you enjoy them!
And finally, something really big coming from this move is it will afford me the opportunity to start streaming! This is something I haven't been able to do because of the internet speed in my location, so I'm very excited to start exploring this more seriously soon!
Again, thank you so much for all your kindness, patience, and support. It’s been a rough few years for me, and I couldn’t do this without you all. Thank you for everything ♥
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Devlog #3 - 28/04/2023
So.
I finished writing the first chapter for the Necromancer. I can barely believe how I breezed through the second half of it! There were some moments where I was like "How do I word this choice and its flavor text?" and it would take some time to manage it and kinda stump me, but in general, it was really fast. Won't lie, it is rare for me to write this much in such a short span of time.
At the moment, it has 18,4k words, between text and code. This put the entire first chapter, considering both Necromancer and Undead path, at 35,2k words. Oof!
As I said on the previous Devlog, I already have some ideas of things I need to change/add, to both; I decided that I should do it AFTER chapter written, otherwise I would've never had finished writing this first draft :D
I printed the chapter so I can better visualize and make notes of where and what I want to change something AND grammar mistakes/typos. As I copied into microsoft word, its automatic corrector was already screaming at me all the typos and so on lol
I also worked a little more on the UI, AND thanks to amazing tutorials and answers that @idrellegames has posted, I discovered that I had forgotten a key piece of code on the Return button (it was the "back" code, so variables aren't added more than once when visiting the menus and so on. I felt like a clown when I noticed the problem when testing, and even more when I found the solution on Idrelle posts. Idrelle, sorry for marking you out of nowhere, but YOU ARE A LIFE-SAVIOR!)
There is still at least two things I'll change regarding UI: at the moment, when changing passages in the absence of choices, the link is at the end of the proper text, but I'll make it into a proper "Next", I think it will become better; the other, I'll put Return buttons at the header and the end of the character sheets and so on, and make it bigger.
If things progress well in my revisions (and adding some variables I know already I'll need for the next chapter), I think by the end of May I'll be uploading the chapter on Itch! IEEEEH!
I say the end of the month, not only because of revision and so on, which should progress nicely, but because I want to already code and make available together with the first chapter the glossary page and the codex page, according to what both characters know along the chapter; as a warning, the codex will use the texts from the Weekly Lore, but not exactly as in the Weekly Lore.
Today and tomorrow I'll rest my head a little from my own writing, but then it is back to revise and edit :D
I think this is all I have to say in this Devlog for now.
Love you guys! Stay safe!
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LBRY Murdered Part 7 FINAL
Previously:
We have reached the final day, and we are closing this event.
Thank you for your participation in this very important event. It has been the most sorrowful day, such egregious act done by their own government, ever in history. May this be the lesson, to not follow suit what have they done to them, then all of us. We have been honored, to be with the side of the revolution in video uploading platform movement. To be free from shackles of ones control, and own our own made creatives and to help others achieve the same. We would not be in the foreverness at all, if LBRY was never been here. Our journey, no matter what happened is not vain, and has since provides abundant amount of fruititions for all of us gamers. May LBRY inc. rest easy, and the LBRY protocols & related endeavours continues, prospers, forever, and after. Once again, thank you, for gathering together, doing for the people.
As for the dismissal, I have decided that the door will be open 5 days again after, for safety reasons. After that, you may come back home with your Portalers. I recommend that you set the destination right away to your home. If you had job equipments, be sure to first return them in one spot close beforehand. Wait 2 days more, you can still declare your usual prayers, then on that monday you may resume job normally.
For those who asked, Please note, I have concluded that GrayJay is not replacement for video hosting, in fact they are not. GrayJay is designed only to aggregate videos from various platforms, into 1 center an app. Videos will still be uploaded through original platform, but once you have linked your channels, your Polycentric video channel page will become one and only.
Speaking of linking, Yes, I have the same couple issues, and Linus Media Group would also be, if he also inclined to join. As what I have seen, every new channel we linked with Harbor, will be pushed to the first position in array. Therefore the last will be firstmost. This is why you'll see Admiral Zumi's files instead of mine, because I linked Zumi's channel last, Twitch, then bunch of backup YouTube channels. GrayJay at the moment can only pick one YouTube, one Odysee, and one of each possible to be linked whenever can to our Polycentric account / wallet. Removing them to be readded on separate Polycentric account seems not a good idea. **Worry less**, this is GrayJay's fault. your harbor.social account can still list all accounts you linked and you can click these array of accounts to go to respective page on respective platform. As now you should remember again that
GrayJay is still under construction / WIP.
Full disclosure, I already purchased GrayJay,
fulfilling my promise. They earned it and they are worthy. Despite juuuust one license that is absolutely not okay, this time, I tolerated them, due to sheer amount of stealings and scamming happened for the topic of `3rd party platform video player`, much like I tolerated some artist who has enormous fear & traumas after being ransacked by irresponsible AI fusioners, using their creative works unethically and without proper credit nor permission (if need be), to mix and frankenstein their work, stealing not only clout, but all the deserves they crave and deserved. Using Stripe as FUTO and GrayJay team used has been proven to be very easy and effective. Since it's their own, away from PayPal, you use your credit / debit card which explains why the need to use your virtual card syndicator system (Privacy.com card for US). You only need to pay once and forever, and once you've filled in your data, the license key should be inserted to your email, and you can simply insert that key to `I already paid`.
Ensure to safekeep this key like password or in this case, a Windows Product Key
To retain respect, please do not share the key to complete strangers, and to help you retain respect, **GrayJay once again still works 1 to 1 no cripple even if you don't pay**, much like WinRAR, minus the 40 days window, minus the Open Source License, but plus no annoyance. Because they believe, we are a customer, not slave. These instructions will also be included in GrayJay instruction. May the Android emulator ready, for the screenshot purpose. Until this change, You should begin to participate joining and helping them for their endeavours.
Again, just to remind you in template,
There is no such thing such as `GrayJay will have issue you must give XXXXX`
Do not listen and immediately block them, as they are people of deceptions / scammer.
Do not give anything, especially your private keys!!
We learned the lesson and we must be more vigilant everyday, as deceptions are getting more advanced and more less obvious, even hacking official networks somehow to scare all of us like bunch of sorcerers did to BCA in Indonesia at some point. The dialog did appear, but BCA already stated it's false, and they were hacked, and have fixed it since. Or worse, using anything that would end its domain like official, like did happened to Jim Browning few years back. My God, I thought I was the poopy idiot and thought I can bash God that I think He took my vigillance away, nope that's not true. Jim's worse than mine, like God desperately sent His angel to prevent me from planning any bad things against God in vengeance for taking my vigillance away I thought. Me Steam accidental report scares with obvious Discord not Steam support chat, then Jim's YouTube accuse multi ad account will be banned with Google's offknown (it's real, Official) Support something chatting place. something at Google dot com, those scammers kept finding ideas. same scare, would be banned, gets smarted and harder to stay vigillant more days passes.
But all back both mine & Jim's. And still fine.
And That is all for this week's event. Remember your date. 40 and 1. Thancc for your attention.
End
by JOELwindows7
Perkedel Technologies
CC4.0-BY-SA
Full pack of meeting 2023:
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Wake up at seven. 7 p.m. and not a.m.; sleeping habit becoming overly erratic. But barely ever feel tired. Light outside on a pink tinge, a douse of dusk. Head up to the supermarket. Three boys in their teens walking up the woody path. They see me and call me some famous name I don’t recognise and snarl “Halloa Halloa,” Charles Dickens style save without the grace. Walk up the path. Haven’t showered in days. Things like dreams and imagination have been misplaced of late. Not locked up, but with the lid closed. Have to figure out a way to open new boxes … only have to find out where they are first. It’ll be my big brother’s 36th birthday in a few hours. None of the clan are getting younger. Just as in the air there is the nonchalant threat of autumn, the hues changing in the trees and a boost of Celsius unlikely. I doan mind. What I do need to do is experience more vitamin D from the sun. And perhaps communicate with people a bit more regularly – as I’ve barely seen anybody in days. My friend hasn’t been on messenger in days, well, for a day and a half, and such is my go-to inclination that I fret something may have happened to him, some thing bad. But – he’s the kinda fellow that doesn’t attract violence; a car crash or a stabbing. Some folks, like me, do be a magnet for aggression. ^ Just like those kids a few minutes back who raged at me. Some folks like my mate will probably live long and harmlessly. Perhaps I should tryn be more like them. I get out of the wooded path. The car park outside is bathed in sepia and I imagine the sparse cars and gaps in between them bespeaking of some setting for a story. Post-disaster or pre-festival … hmm, some kind of atmosphere for a shady meeting between men at night. Or maybe a lone psychotic’s stopped here for some provisions before leaving the city – the bypass being just a mile down the road from here, the border/exit of the entire town. See? There are wisps of imagery; little morsels of fantasia … but I’ve been unable to link them all together in a big book, of late. Or rather, I have to come up with a proper spark to make the debris explode. My hair’s greasy. And too long – keep having to wipe the coil by the forehead to the side. Whence inside the supermarket I weave in a trance and most of the workers are young and skinny with milky arms. There’s a silly 80s pop song bleeping on the tannoids above. I’m glad I’m not making that old, deranged trip to the alcohol section. And that I don’t seem set for the turnpike to terminal disease just yet. There’s me thinking of death again. I pick up some cherry tomatoes and an onion. As I leave I pass the newspaper stall – and on the front page of all of them is the mugshot of a child serial killer who has just been sent to jail for the rest of her life without parole. Out into the warm air with a glimmer of chilliness. A breeze blows a Styrofoam cup across the cement … the seagulls circle fifty yards above, interested in the bins for when the shop shuts … two other kids zoom by on one of those E-scooter things, one holding the driver by the back. Those things weren’t invented in my day. I wouldn’t have the nerve to drive one of them now, as a 30 year old. Would probably fall off. They look dangerous as Hell.
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Easy Guitar Playing Lessons
New Post has been published on https://wr1tepress.com/easy-guitar-playing-lessons/
Easy Guitar Playing Lessons
If you have a six-string, a pick and a solid but comfortable armless chair, you are ready for some easy guitar lessons. Here are some of the basic things you should learn.
Know your instrument.
The topmost portion of your guitar is called the head or the headstock. This is where you well find the tuners, which are used to adjust the pitch of the six strings. The long part attached to the head is the neck.
Down the neck is the body of the guitar. If you are using a classical or acoustic guitar, you will find a sound hole in the middle. This serves to project and amplify the sound. Electric guitars, on the other hand, do not have holes. Instead, they have pickups, which intensify the sounds coming from your instrument. Of course, you have the strings that are attached to the tuners, run down over the neck, over the hole and attached to the bridge.
Hold your guitar properly.
The thickest guitar string should be the topmost when you hold the guitar and the neck should be parallel to the ground. The body should rest comfortably on one of your thighs. Tune your guitar.
Before you can learn how to play the guitar, you will have to learn this skill first. You can refer to a book, an online source or a friend to learn how to tune. You can tune your guitar three ways: by ear, with a piano or a tuning flute.
Next, decide on your fret hand. This is the one that will be spending a lot of time on the neck of your guitar, pressing on the chord. If you are right handed, it is your left. If you are left handed, its your right hand. Your pick hand is the other hand. This is the one that will hold the pick and strum the guitar.
When using your pick to strike the strings, make sure not to strike too hard or too soft. You are a beginner and need to hear how you sound like. Use only your wrist when you play and not your whole arm. Practice three different strokes on each string: downward, upward and alternate down and up. Once you get the hang of it, you will learn the best pressure to put on the string to produce the proper sound.
Learn the chords.
Get a chord book and begin practicing the chords. You can practice doing them one by one as shown on the book until your mind and fingers memorize them. Only problem is that this can get a little boring. There is just no sense playing a bunch of chords that do not sound like a real melody.
The better alternative would be to learn the most common chords first. These are: C major, D major and G major. Play one chord first until you memorize it and then move to the other. You can then practice moving from one chord to the next, keeping both the sound and the movement as fluid as possible. Practice on songs that play these chords until you have mastered them. When you do, move on to other songs using other chords.
Where to find your lessons online
There are plenty of resources you can turn to for easy guitar lessons books, magazines and online resources. If you want free lessons, here are some websites you can check out for help.
If you know the basics of playing the guitar, this site is a great resource for learning easy songs. Do not worry, because lessons are designed for beginners. A few sessions online and you should learn enough songs to surprise anyone in no time.
Not only does this site feature easy step by step lessons on guitar playing, there is also a link to a page featuring songs made popular in the 1960s. Bring back the groovy years with easy to follow instructions.
All the easy guitar playing secrets you have always wanted to learn are here, plus you get to learn how to play lead guitar. You can also order their instructional CD-ROM to learn easy guitar lessons at your own pace.
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1984 honda v30 magna motorcycle
1984 honda v30 magna motorcycle serial number#
The motor can't even begin to accomplish that, so slap the largest rear sprocket you can find on the back, and prepare for a LOT more fun. Honda’s V65 Sabre (L) and V30 Magna set new performance benchmarks in their classesand 35 years later, still perform to high standards. It's geared for 150+ mph at redline in 6th. Treat the redline like gospel and the bike will last forever. The motor will happily spin to 15k without a load, and this is a Very Bad Thing for the wrist pins. Especially don't go over redline without a load. There is no rev-limiter and this engine is NOT over-built. The only thing that goes wrong with them are wrist pins. Valve adjustments are a bear, and carb removal and reinstallation is like Evil Tetris. the V65 is plagued by a myriad of issues, the biggest being 2nd gear. If I found another one, I'd actually buy it in a heartbeat. I loved it! Plenty of power, it was light and agile, and it had good range. Maybe you can post some pics if you decide to buy it. During this time, the Japanese economy was recovering from World War II. Honda was founded in 1940s Japan by Soichiro Honda. 1984 Honda Magna V30 Motorcycle 500cc NO RESERVE 1984 HONDA MAGNA 700 1 OWNER LOW MILES ORIGNAL CONDITION 1984 HONDA MAGNA VF700 VF750 V45 V65 V4 V/4 4CYL ONLY 7000 MILES, LOOK Popular makes. 1984 Honda Magna V30 Motorcycles For Sale: 1 Motorcycles - Find Used 1984 Honda Magna V30 Motorcycles on Cycle Trader. I wouldn't say it's suited for larger people though - small to medium sized riders would be most comfortable. Honda Magna 1984 technical specifications Item location.
1984 honda v30 magna motorcycle serial number#
The California serial number began JH2PC1317EM000004 while the rest of the United States models began JH2PC1300EM000028. The engine was a 498cc DOHC 4-valve liquid-cooled V-4 linked to a 6-speed transmission. It's a nice lightweight bike that doesn't mind hitting highway speeds, and still shines for in-town riding. Based on data from 4 vehicles, 46 fuel-ups and 4,970 miles of driving, the 1984 Honda VF500C V30 Magna gets a combined Avg MPG of 43.82 with a 2.23 MPG margin. 1984 Honda Magna V30 (VF500C’84) The HONDA fuel tank logo was straight, not curved in this first year. It does have the secondary fuel tank under the seat that uses a fuel pump since it's lower than the carbs - might want to make sure that fuel pump is operational - I believe all the Magnas had that configuration, not aware of any issues with the setup though. The V30 has chain drive and a 6-speed tranny - same as the Interceptor. The carbs are proper pricks to remove, but everything else is easy enough to work on - much friendlier than their sister bikes the Interceptors with all that damn plastic. full assembly diagrams and part lists for every Honda, Kawasaki, BRP, BMW, Kymco, Ducati, Polaris, Suzuki and Yamaha motorcycles, ATVs, personal watercraft, snowmobiles and. parts using manufacturer microfiche assembly diagrams. They don't have the oddball parts issues that the V40's and V45's had - weird production changes and non-available parts for some years of those bikes.Īlso, they didn't suffer from the rear cam issue of the Interceptor 750's - something Honda should never be forgiven. Original 1984 Honda V30 MAGNA (VF500C) Parts. How? Simply click here to return to HONDA MAGNA.They're good bikes, worth restoring if all the parts are there and functional. Join in and write your own page! It's easy to do. The 1984 Magna is located in Fallbrook, California CA and is an excellent value at my cheap asking price of only $4000! GoGoCycles would also encourage bikers to submit a review of the 1984 Honda V30 Magna 500 for sale to make the biker community aware of any problems that are common to the 1984 Magna 500 or to highlight its positive features and help potential buyers make informed decisions. If you want to buy the bike, see pictures or would like to make an appointment to see the motorcycle in person you can reach me by e-mailing me your questions and requests using the space below provided by GoGoCycles Used Honda Motorcycles for Sale (and PLEASE include your contact information!) and I will respond with answers to your questions or would pictures or the best time for an appointment as quickly as possible. So, I'm going to locate a parts bike to go with it the used parts will be invaluable down the road. Parts for these old Honda motorcycle are difficult to find since they are so rare. Im not too familiar with these bikes so any suggestions would be appreciated. The bike was just gone through to be sure that everything is up to par for safe and reliable operation and items like clean brake fluid in the lines, brake shoes replaced if needed, all light bulbs replaced regardless of age, chain inspected and lubricated, etc. So far Ive cleaned the carbs, removed both fuel tanks and cleaned them, and replaced spark plugs and checked for spark. 20% off bags, covers and other motorcycle accessories
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10 Ways To Improve Exercise Ways To Improve Exercise
Workout
http://weightlossdigestorg.org
Without proper exercise and also a well balanced diet, dogs can experience weight problems. No tablet computers to remember to take, no unique diets, no needed exercise regimen. Get utilized to the idea that in some cases points might be a little bit bumpy along the road, but develop your business mind to not let that frustrate you. With 35 inquiries, our pet trivia test might even allow you know a couple of points you didn't recognize like which organ just dogs as well as human beings have. They are additionally understand for being extremely smart. You might believe you are a canine expert, but just how much do you actually understand? Once you fetch the responses, you will discover out precisely just how much you understand regarding canines. Before you can really learn more about your pet, you have to give him or her a name. For numerous years, we have thought the myth that dogs are colorblind. In enhancement to supplying dogs with greater body warm, they also huddle to secure their body organs.
Along with extending your back, you ought to stretch your legs. It can walk on its back legs. With a minimum of 18 muscle mass in each ear, pet dogs can relocate their ears a little to catch sounds. If this seems like you, then your body kind is most likely an 'ectomorph'. It can not chart out the training course before you, nonetheless. There's a reason. They do so out of those slits when pet dogs exhale. Originally bred to be rescue dogs in the Swiss Alps, the St. Bernard can grow up to 260 pounds! For instance, "lap pets" were bred to rest in people's laps. Growing up to 20 extra pounds, the Norwegian Lundehund was initially reproduced to search puffins. The Lundehund's six-toed feet aid them maintain a company hold on the snowy as well as icy Norwegian terrain. At the very least initially, maintain a bronchodilator with you. Add some fresh garlic on a regular basis to your food preparation to keep your heart healthy.
To tone muscular tissues and tighten up slack skin, add resistance as well as weight-lifting drills. The exercises in this program, which have web links on the last web page of this post, will certainly supply you with a well balanced strength-training program that will certainly tone and shape your abdominal area and also shape muscle mass throughout your body. While most pet dogs have adorable pink tongues, the chow chow has a a black tongue. An illness referred to as parvovirus can be deadly to pet dogs who contract it. In the northeast USA, you should inoculate pet cats as well as pet dogs against heartworm, a mosquito-borne disease. Hyperactivity - Vigorous, social pet dogs like Dalmatians are happiest when part of an energetic household. Dogs are our most cherished animal, as well as the realities concerning them are also more remarkable. The only thing more remarkable than our dog's every action is their background and truths regarding them. Throughout this canine facts quiz, we are going to ask you about some popular and some little-known canine realities. Challenge your canine expertise with this test, and also consider yourself as experienced as your vet! From the world's oldest type to the globe's heaviest breed, your pet knowledge is going to be put to the test.
With only 350 Cesky terriers in presence, they are likewise taken into consideration one of the globe's most expensive breeds. When the "Wizard of Oz" debuted, the appeal of Cairn terriers skyrocketed. And for that objective, you can certainly consider Drew Brees' exercise regimen and diet strategy as a reference. It's tough to plan and follow the proportion, making sure to choose the best food (this website) as well as stick to the prescribed number as well as proportion of food blocks at each dish. Obesity is noted by the American Kennel Club as the leading wellness issue that all pet dog types run into. A lot more significantly, as Verywell Health notes, numerous physicians have specialized training in dealing with particular problems or health problems. If you enjoy your pet very closely, they have a lot more movement in their ears than humans. When it's too warm for your pooch, they sweat much like humans. Where are a canine's gland found?
With 35 concerns, our pet dog trivia test may even allow you in on a few things you didn't understand like which body organ only dogs as well as people have. You might think you are a dog professional, but just how much do you actually recognize? Once you bring the solutions, you will certainly locate out exactly how much you understand concerning canines. Before you can really obtain to recognize your dog, you have to give him or her a name. Throughout this pet dog facts test, we are going to ask you concerning some well-known and some obscure pet realities.
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Easy Video Marketing Recommendations That Happen To Be Simple To Discover
Using video marketing strategies and techniques is a great possibility so that you can help achieve a lot more specific clients relating to your items. Try learning more about video marketing to see tips on how to utilize the many different strategies to your benefit. Read on for additional information information on this subject.
The initial thing you need to do with marketing with video would be to give it a try. The better you play with it, the higher your outcomes will become. Attempt every thing which comes to mind after which decide what works and what doesn't. This is the easiest way to make marketing with video productive.
This content of your respective video clip performs a crucial role within its good results. You may commit thousands of dollars on extravagant devices and also the latest technology, but it will all be for naught unless you utilize it to make interesting and thrilling content material. Men and women view video tutorials which are okay when they have relevant details which they believe is essential. But, you must still get the best products that you can pay for.
Rest assured in your video. Your potential customers are likely to watch you as an ambassador for your product or service therefore you must display total self-confidence in the functionality and worth. Practice your display once or twice to successfully are constructing the proper practical experience and fascination for your personal potential customers.
When composing a information of your movie include your website address at the outset of the outline utilizing proper Web-page coding. This may permit audience to click the link and be right away aimed to your website. You should also add a information utilizing your main and alternative key phrases for greater page positions.
In case you are definitely not an authority with a subject matter, do not attempt to imagine. The best way to travel that is certainly by interviewing individuals on video that happen to be industry experts in your market. A trade event or seminar is a great destination to meet up with people who won't imagination doing a video clip.
Merchandise companies or resellers need to produce video lessons demonstrating exactly how the merchandise may be used in substitute methods. For instance, although duct adhesive tape is great for tubes, Duck Adhesive tape has established how-tos for any million other assignments, even how to generate a wallet! This leads to awesome popular video clip good results on the part.
Stimulate staff personnel to help you in your online video marketing. Make an effort to pick somebody who loves the digital camera and it has clear speech. Experiencing a number of people your video lessons will make them far more exciting.
The more video tutorials that you make, the better visitors you will get. Simply because 1 online video does horribly, doesn't imply that each will will. Also if you make video tutorials regularly, it can always keep viewers fascinated and they can revisit to see what new articles you have to offer you.
When seeking Youtube . com for ideas, don't neglect to use the * wildcard proprietor. This enables you to discover videos, which are comparable although not identical to your quest conditions. For example, "How you can * a magazine" could cause you to some crafty questions and answers about working together with guides artistically.
The one thing that your visitors will want is trustworthiness of your stuff. Don't spend your time and cash touting a product or service, services or idea that you cannot privately stand behind. If you current an organic, real manner, people will like the video that much more and will certainly come back in the future to get more .
View the data available for your movie, may it be your server stats or online. This will help you assess every single online video you will make so you can quickly inform that happen to be effective and which ought to happen to be kept in the reducing room surface. This is the only way to continue constructing your strategies skyward.
If you intend to begin a relevant video advertising campaign, placed a bit of time into developing a YouTube channel for the business. As a result your video lessons readily available, and if a viewer appreciates the first movie, they may have a number of other individuals right at their hands. This prepared, clustered way of introducing your video lessons can help you to attract more audiences, and thus a lot more buyers.
Make considered-provoking video lessons. Whatever your online video is approximately, try and have your audiences contact you about the content. This may be easily completed by getting remarks allowed in your video lessons. You could try asking for their responses about something you discussed, or you could conclusion your video tutorials with inquiries that you'd like those to respond to about related subject areas.
Are you feeling just like you know more about using marketing with video to assist your business? It's a great issue, and you will be amazed at exactly how much a viral video can help. Make use of the approaches and techniques that you've discovered right here, and get started off these days creating a plan which will consider your organization additional.
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10 Finest Practices For Massage
Which massage is right for me? Roll your left hip and your left toes inward, in order that the inside of your left foot is resting on the floor and the toes of your left foot are pointing toward your proper leg. 3. Avoid taking fluids proper before sleeping. If tempers flare, consider taking 5 and even 20 minutes to calm down so you possibly can spare the people you love your irritated (and possibly undeservingly aimed) wrath. Many people declare that Nair is stronger, but Veet is likely to be a greater option if in case you have delicate pores and skin. If you've been performing more aggressively on the road lately, it is likely to be a sign to chop again your to-do list. What if I never lower my hair? Swiping it shortly towards the skin to take away hair at the basis without taking any skin alongside. Massage the paste into rough skin for a number of minutes. Threading can also be very quick -- sessions will only take about quarter-hour of your time, and sometimes even less.
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Put the blend on your skin for quarter-hour or till it dries. Can vitamins protect my skin from the solar? Many people dislike the sweat and oil because they could cause pimples or dilated pores, however it is a approach for the physique to regulate its temperature and protect itself from infection. After taking a heat shower, which should assist dilate pores, apply a blackhead strip or related product to the world you'd like to treat. Although they typically name attention to pores, avoid removing blackheads or whiteheads your self, since this may end up in scarring or infection. Before transferring on, rinse off your toes in your tub or basin, eradicating any excess foot scrub. Finally, practitioners move the twisted space rapidly back and forth across rows of hairs, grasping them at the basis and removing them shortly and completely. In the event of a chemical burn, it is best to wash the world totally and take away all traces of the cream, then wrap the affected space in a unfastened, clear, dry cloth. Users describe it as having the same effect as a light chemical peel, however with out the redness and burning -- their skin feels clear, smooth, moist and not at all irritated.
Alternative medication goals to do two things for psoriasis patients: 1) lessen the ache and the lesions and 2) prevent the skin cells from malfunctioning in the first place. The "stress hormone" cortisol is a think about coronary heart illness, high blood strain, pain and mental disorders, among other issues. Yoga for Anxiety -- Postures and breathing workout routines may improve energy ranges, boost blood circulation, and ease tension. Your skin may sag and stretch, your belly may push new boundaries, and crow's toes may creep from the corners of your eyes. There are several other skin issues, nonetheless, that don't get fairly as a lot consideration. Doctors can't all the time get a transparent picture of those abnormal plenty, making it difficult to deal with them. There are some foot-care situations the place even the very best merchandise won't get the job accomplished. There are studies verifying the links between smoking and heart disease or diabetes and fatty foods. For more analysis on depilatories, see the hyperlinks on the next web page. Cuts that you simply cannot see. See pictures of getting stunning pores and skin. Northington, Marian. "Skin Resurfacing With Fractional Photothermolysis." University of Alabama at Birmingham.
Other creams include stronger formulations for coarser hair which will trigger greater pores and skin irritation. Sorgen, Carol. "Grooming Essentials for Women: Skin and Hair Care Products." WebMD. Superficial heating may also help improve native circulation to a depth of about 1 centimeter from the surface of the skin. These points merely scratch the surface of explanation why folks have gotten so sickly, but I am solely going to address the final level in this article. The standards call for the presence of not less than 5 signs that last not less than two weeks. Results from cream may last up to twice as long as shaving, however creams cost more than razors and take barely longer to use. You'll begin by reading about the at-house methods you should use to cover up the appearance of massive pores. This fashion, in case you do have a reaction, it is localized and won't affect massive areas. Exfoliating creams are broadly accessible, and they all help to scale back the dimensions of massive pores.
Although it could also be irritating to learn that it is not possible to tighten up enlarged pores completely, you won't have to constantly undergo. You goal a participant, you cast the spells and the players round them have their health restored appropriately. 스웨디시 from other gamers may give hints on what to do in a sure spot akin to letting you realize an enemy is nearby hiding, there is a lure within the room or to head a sure path to find an merchandise. Hair removing creams could seem like a pretty easy resolution, but as with any pores and skin remedy, you should know your merchandise before you run out to purchase them and begin slathering them on. In truth, most people will go out of their technique to battle these indicators of aging, using nutrition and exercise, creams, lotions, or even surgery. Studies have additionally proven that utilizing creams can slow hair progress in affected areas. Unlike waxing, this simple technique is also ache-free if you follow the directions and keep away from sensitive areas. The process can solely be completed on flat surfaces of pores and skin, which is why threading has not replaced waxing as the selection technique of hair removing on the bikini line.
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The Nanny Pt. 3
Lee Bodecker x Nanny!F!Reader
18+
Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: alcohol/drinking, food, corrupt cop, mentions of prostitution/smut, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, mentions of serial killers/murder, mutual pining,
Summary:
Based on this Request: The reader moves to Meade/Knockemstiff while answering an advertisement for a nanny in the paper. We learn that the ad was posted by Sandy, who has the reader watch her child whenever she and Carl leave to do their secret thing. After one of these trips, Sandy and her husband never return, so the reader is left caring for their baby. With the new investigation into these events, she meets Sandy’s brother Lee, the older, out of shape, alcoholic bachelor, and they are suddenly thrown into each others lives as he begins looking into his sister’s disappearance. Through it all, Lee starts to fall for her, and they slowly become a family.
A/N: I got inspired re-watching one of my favorite shows and I want to know if anyone else gets the reference I’m using! If I missed anything I should include as a warning that I missed please let me know! This is also unedited!
Taglist Form is in my bio!
Series Masterlist
Your shoulders tensed listening to the radio in the morning. Sitting on your ottoman, you were painting your nails, using the coffee table as your nail station. It was a really bright morning, and you had the curtains pulled open to draw in light. Julie frantically rushed between her room and the bathroom getting ready for her shift at the diner. The newest single from The Beach Boys was playing through the little counter top radio, but at the top of the hour, the melodies playing through the speaker changed to the news. The top story of the morning was chilling.
“Jules,” you said, calling her over hesitantly, putting the cap back on the bottle of polish. “Come listen to this.”
She scurried out of her room while working to tie her apron in the back, and then she stood next to where you sat to listen to the story on the news. The color drained from her face as you both listened to the reporter describe the horrific scene that was under investigation early this morning.
Roy Laferty was an evangelical preacher whose body washed up by the lake very early that same morning. The news report talked about the police investigation, and also disclosed his wife Helen, is also reported missing. They are looking into the disappearance of Helen, as well as opening a full investigation on Laferty’s murder. They also urge individuals with any information regarding the two to call the Sheriff’s department and to provide a statement.
“That’s horrifying,” you mumble, shocked as you try to process the news. Julie nods in agreement but strangely doesn’t seem nearly as affected by the news as you.
“It’s happening again,” she mutters, obviously concerned but her lack of surprise worries you.
“What do you mean again?” you ask.
“There was a string of unexplained murders, all men, like this newest one,” Julie explained, “This was all over the news like two years ago- can’t believe you hadn’t heard about it.” All you could do was shrug; this was all new to you. “Obviously, there was nothing linking their deaths, but there were these five killings a couple of years ago that are still unsolved. There’s no evidence, but the town rumors it was like a serial killer or something. Nothing is confirmed, of course, just a story.”
“What makes people think it was all the same person?” you ask, hesitantly.
“All the people were always the same type,” she shrugs, “Men all in their 20s and 30s. Again, there’s nothing linking them all together. It’s just talk.”
You clicked off the radio, and didn’t know what to do with yourself. Julie patted your shoulder, comfortingly but she had to go on with her day. So did you, and you almost her ability to move about the apartment almost unfazed by the news. You suppose it makes sense, her growing up here she’s probably used to it. You didn’t have the experience or the thick skin she had.
You had decided to go to the library, still preoccupied by the news segment as well as the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff. You spent the better half of the morning looking at the library’s archives of old newspapers. You wanted to read more about the unsolved cases Julie had told you about, so there you sat for several hours looking through the microfilm reader. You even stumbled upon articles that featured the Sheriff.
There he was plain as day on the front page when it was announced he had won the election the first time he ran several years back. You couldn’t help but notice the changes in his appearance and demeanor compared to the man you keep running into. He was a little slimmer, and he looked a lot happier, a little fuller of life, you decided was a good way to explain it. His smile was wider, and you could see the difference in his eyes as well. It was seeing how he was before the stress of the job began to take its heavy toll. He had on the same leather jacket as well, you were fairly certain, even though the one in the photograph hung a little looser.
You continued to skim through articles, piecing your way through the history of Knockemstiff. Little articles in black and white that persevered the history of this dark little town. You were beginning to realize this backwater town was a lot more tangled and complex than you originally believed. It was a tangled history, riddled with crime and unclosed cases, that people seem to have either forgotten or choose to ignore for their own sake. Your mind wandered back to the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff and him being corrupt. You wonder how much of what you read about linked back to him. Though you imagine if he has any sort of political connection, which a man like him must have, the things he was involved in probably didn’t even make it into the paper. The thought made you physically shiver.
You put the large leather portfolios of archives you took and put them back into their proper place on the self chronologically. You grabbed your sweater from the back of your chair, and pushed the chair back into place. Looking up at the clock on the wall, it was only just one in the afternoon. You decided to head down to the diner and grab a bite, and also visit Julie during her second shift. It was a short walk from the library to the diner. Everywhere felt like a short walk here, probably because everything in downtown was not much bigger than a few blocks. The majority of people lived far from the center of town, on their own land and farms.
The little bell on the door rang when you stepped in and Julie waved at you from behind the counter and pointed for you to grab an empty table in her section. You put your bag on the table and took a seat. It was a fairly busy time, most people who worked at the surrounding businesses coming in for their lunch break. Julie brought you over a coffee and then said she’d be back to chat when she got to take her five.
Lee hadn’t been able to go home since the phone call. The symptoms of his hangover were worsening and he was growing more irritable. His five o’clock shadow was still evident on his tired face and his head was pounding. He tried his best to just power through it but the sound of anyone trying to talk to him just made his ears ring.
After leaving the scene, he had to stop by his office and then he was on the phone for the better part of an hour fielding calls from frantic citizens not only of Knockemstiff but also Meade, where Laferty was from. Despite how horribly he felt, he tried his best to keep his temper level and just reassure people he had things under control. He was losing his patience.
He opened up his desk drawer and grabbed his bottle of asprin. Empty. He threw it into the small waste bin and got up abruptly grabbing his jacket off the hook and storming out. He didn’t tell anyone he was leaving and he didn’t care. It was a short walk to the drugstore from the station and he wouldn’t be five minutes. He just needed to do something to stop his head from hurting.
“Afternoon, Sheriff,” the pharmacist greeted when he walked in. He nodded his head upwards briefly to reply without having to talk. He just needed to get in and out. She went back to whatever she was working on when he came in, and he browsed the aisles for what he needed. After paying and walking out, he glanced in the direction of the diner when he was crossing the street. There you were, again. Sitting alone and chatting with the waitress that was refilling your coffee.
He let out a heavy sigh, and then continued walking. He didn’t want you to see him like this, hungover, unshaved, wrinkled uniform and heavy undereye bags from his lack of sleep. You looked- well, Lee thought you were the prettiest thing he’s seen in a while, maybe ever. There was something about you he couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe it was just because you weren’t from here. You were a fresh face, and not ruined by this town. There was a sweetness and an innocence in how you talked to him, because you didn’t know him like the rest of people here did. He liked that.
Even when he left the station for the day, he couldn’t even go home yet. He had a meeting at the bar with one of Brown’s lackeys. He was just supposed to collect his cut so he couldn’t imagine it would take long, but he was still annoyed. Stepping into the bar he looked around as he took off his hat. It was a little more crowded tonight then when he was here last. The red curtain was closed and his eyes lingered there for a moment before directing his attention to the man he recognized who was waving him over.
“Sheriff,” the man greets and Lee slides into the booth across from him.
“Hayward,” he replies. Without even needing to order, the bartender comes over bringing them a bottle of scotch and two glasses.
“You ever go back there?” Hayward asks, watching as a girl came out and brought a man behind the curtain who had been waiting at the bar.
“No,” Lee scoffs.
“They are amazing,” Hayward says, almost giddy. Lee feels sympathy towards the poor woman who had to take care of him. Lee doesn’t acknowledge the statement and just empties his glass and begins to pour himself a second.
“So, my cut?” Lee asks. Hayward frowns and goes into the breast pocket of his sports coat and pulls out an envelope of cash.
“You aren’t getting full,” the man says when Lee cocks a brow at the thinness of the envelope.
“Still?” Lee asks, pissed. Hayward nods. Lee’s jaw clenches.
“You didn’t keep things tidy on your end,” Hayward reminds him, “You got one job. Keep the cops out of our territory. We had two cruisers drive through last week. The only reason you’re getting anything at all is cause you managed to keep your people off us when we did the exchange with Deckard’s crew.”
The man finishes his drink, and then slaps the empty glass on the table. He pulls out his own envelope, which is much thicker than Lee’s and drops down more than enough for the drinks. He chuckles condescendingly and tells the Sheriff to get a dance. Fuck that. Lee takes the extra money and plans to just put it right in his pocket and go home. He finishes his third scotch and suddenly his headache was back. He felt worse than he did earlier today.
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” a feminine voice asks, making him break his line of thought. He looks to his side and he recognizes her as one of the girls he sees bringing men to the back room, behind the velvet curtain. He shakes his head, and instead of leaving him alone, she slides into the booth next to him. Her hand grazes over his thigh. “You seem awful tense, Sheriff,” she says and then bites her lip.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. He knows she doesn’t actually want him, and it’s just an attempt to get him to spend money in the backroom. If he doesn’t focus his already hazing vision, maybe she could vaguely remind him of you. He can’t do it, but he wants to. Her hand moves up his leg and he pulls away. He adjusts his pants and she shrugs.
“Maybe next time then,” she winks before walking away. He rests his head back on the vinyl seat and sighs. He grabs his hat and jacket, leaving before he changes his mind. “Ask for Cherry when you come in, yeah?” she calls when he walks out.
You are just everywhere. You’re in his head and he doesn’t even know you. He needs to sleep, desperately, and part of him in the back of his mind hopes you’ll be there. When he wakes up, he doesn’t remember.
“Have you heard about the Church fundraiser coming up?” Julie asks. You shake your head. “It’s a pretty big deal here. Everyone participates.”
“What is it?” you ask, kicking off your slippers so you can sit crisscross on the couch.
“Bid-On-A-Basket,” she says casually, like it’s the most obvious thing.
“Never heard of it,” you reply, “It sounds fun. What is it?”
“All us single gals put together a picnic basket with everything for a lunch,” she explains, “and then all the eligible bachelors bid on the basket and a date with the girl who made it. Last year, the dreamiest guy, Bill Whittier, bought mine- it’s so fun. Me and Bill didn’t work out but it was a good time.”
“I don’t know anyone here,” you say hesitantly.
“Perfect way to get a date then,” she teases. You bite your lip. You aren’t sure about this.
“And what if some creep is the highest bidder?” you counter.
“You get a bad date story for your next date?” she poses. “Please,” she begs, “It’s for a good cause, all the money this year is going to help the Sunday school.”
“What if no one bids on it?” You rebut.
“Look at yourself,” she scoffs, “you’ll get bids. Trust me.” You roll your eyes.
“I’ll think about it,” you say finally. She smirks, completely planning to wear you down.
“Remember it’s for the kids,” she reasons, “It wouldn’t hurt to go and participate.”
“I said I’ll think about it,” you laugh.
Time passes and soon enough you get another call from Sandy, and you are suddenly back to taking care of Valerie. You had missed her, a lot actually. You definitely have gotten attached to her, and you think you’ve grown on her too. Sandy was vague this time for how long they’d be gone, but since the previous time went so smoothly, you didn’t worry about it.
About a week after Sandy and Carl left this time, there was another disturbing news report. You were sitting on the floor, changing Valerie and you had the television playing softly in the background. The news told the story of another body, this time found in the woods off of the highway. You finish changing the baby and hold her close, her little chin resting on your shoulder as you watch the news story. It was just like Julie had talked about. Another man, thirty years old. He was shot and his body abandoned. You jump at the knock at the front door.
You peep through the curtains, and you see the Sheriff waiting on the front porch. You wonder if he knows you’re there. Part of you almost wishes he knows it you here and he wanted to see you. It’s incredibly stupid on your part and you know better, but nonetheless, part of you hoped he came here for you. Very stupid. With Valerie on your hip, you open the door.
“I’m sorry, darling,” he says walking into the house. He stops in front of you and presses a kiss to Valerie’s forehead and she squeals happily seeing Lee. You close the door with your foot. “May I?” he asks, and opens his arms. You agree, based on Valerie’s reactions to him whenever she sees him. He takes her in his arms, and she starts playing with his tie. He loosens it so she can play with it and not choke him.
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” you ask. He reacts in a way in a way you can’t really read, but you don’t press.
His mind just goes back to the woman a couple weeks back in the brothel who asked him the same thing, and that his mind immediately had gone to you. He just clears his throat and snaps himself out of that thought process.
“Um, I just came by to see Sandy,” he says, “But I can fathom a guess that she’s not here?”
“Excellent deduction,” you joke, and he smirks. Valerie has his tie in her mouth and is covering it in drool. He doesn’t even seem to care.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and you nod. “You looked a little scared when you answered.”
“Just watching the news before you showed up is all,” you explain, “They were talking about how there was another man found dead.”
“Ain’t got nothing to worry about,” he says, “We’re on top of it. I’m on my way over there now.”
“Can I ask you something?” you ask hesitantly.
“Of course, darling.”
“My friend, you probably know her- Julie Grady.”
“Yeah, nice kid,” he says, listening but gently pulling his tie from Valerie’s grasp. She starts playing with the flap of the pocket of his jacket.
Kid. You almost grimace. That’s right. Of course, Lee would view someone your age that way. You weren’t. You chastise yourself for even caring, but you decide to continue. You shouldn’t care how he sees you.
“Yeah- well, she told me there have been others,” you continue, “I also read up about it, just the newspapers at the library- but she said people thought it was some kind of serial killer… I just, I want to know what you think.”
“I don’t think know,” he answers honestly, a little taken aback, not expecting you to approach him with something this serious. “I doubt it,” he explains, “Serial killers stay close to home. Now those cases you read about, and these two we are looking at- they sound close together but logistically, they aren’t really. Two of those unsolved were in completely different states- just like this new one.”
“So, no traveling serial killer?” you chuckle, trying to sound lighthearted. He chuckles and shakes his head.
“Most people like that stay in one area,” Lee explains, “They work jobs, they have a home, you know? They tend to stay near where they live.”
“That makes me feel much better,” you answer honestly.
“You got nothing to worry about, and that’s a promise,” he grins, although he supposes coming from him that probably doesn’t mean much. Regardless, it makes you smile.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” you offer again. He bites his lip, taking a moment to think.
“Sandy keeps a bag of candy in her cabinet,” he says, walking into the kitchen with you following close behind. He passes Valerie off to you and he chuckles under his breath at the state of his tie. He reaches up in the cabinet and pulls down a brown paper bag, filled with taffies and chocolates.
Something about this man who has a whole time scared of him playing with his niece and then stealing sweets from the cupboard is something you find so strangely endearing. He unwraps one of the brightly colored taffies and then puts the bag in his pocket.
“I gotta go,” he announces, “let me know if you hear from Sandy, yeah?”
“Of course,” you reply.
“Gonna head out to that scene, and do my report,” he discloses, not really sure why he’s telling you. “Then I have a meeting at the rectory about that fundraiser thing. Figure out security.”
“They need security at Bid-On-A-Basket?” you ask, with an eyebrow raised. He smiles.
“You going?” he asks, flirtatiously.
“Just seems weird to have police at a Church thing.”
“There’s been stupid fights,” he shrugs, “some guy will get outbid and cause a fuss. Nothing serious. Probably just gonna be me and a deputy in case. You going?”
“I don’t know, maybe,” you say sheepishly. “Why?”
He walks towards the front door, and you follow seeing him out.
“Cause I gotta know if I’ll be bidding on a basket,” he winks.
“You gonna start a fight if you don’t win it?” you joke.
“If it’s yours? Absolutely, darling.”
Taglist:
@adelaide-walker @thedepressolit @samanthadegaro @pyronack @greeneyedblondie44 @acciosiriusblack @weenersoldierr @teenagemutant @witchybarb @iraot @my-love-darling @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @swiftieandthewintersoldier @letsfly-andbe-free @rebekahdawkins @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @hersilencedscreams @unsaltedalmonds @dangerdolns @vintagepigeon @bluebouquetcupcake29 @goslytherin @captainofallfandoms @buckistan @aynanasstuff @everything-is-all-clear @rosalynshields @tinynshykitten
#lee bodecker#lee bodecker imagine#lee bodecker fic#lee bodecker x reader#lee bodecker x you#the devil all the time#sebastian stan characters#lee bodecker x y/n#lee bodecker x f!reader#lee bodecker smut#slow burn#mystery#lee bodecker oneshot
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The Oracle
Chapter Six
Word Count: 1.9k~
Rating: Teen
Pronouns for Reader: They/Them/Theirs
Warnings: None
Parings: Prince Sidon/Reader, Link/Reader
The first thing that Sidon noticed when walking up the hallway was that the door to the Oracle’s room was ajar, light seeping through and spreading itself along the tile floor. He heard rustling within their room, as well as some murmured curses and flurried movement. He saw a flash of white through the crack in the entryway as they hopped past. At least they were decent, Sidon figured, knocking on the door lightly before opening it and peeking his head through.
Papers and books were strewn across the room, some littering the floor but most congregating across their bed and desk. They had a novel in hand that they were furiously skimming through, worrying their bottom lip between their teeth as they took in as much information from the pages they could. Their shoulders were hiked up and tense, face knotted into an anxious expression. The Zora prince sighed and stepped in, slowly closing the door behind him.
The Oracle jumped, spinning towards Sidon and dropping the book from their grip. They stammered and mumbled something quick before ducking to collect the papers and other objects by their feet.
“Sorry it’s such a mess, I’ve been trying to-”
“No need to apologize, my dear,” Sidon held up a hand to stop their rambling, trying not to let his eyes linger on the pink flush that coated their cheeks. “You must be stressed, I wouldn’t blame you for getting caught up in some last-minute research.”
“...Thank you.” They breathed, bringing a hand to rub at their collarbone. Their gaze caught on the armor beneath his arm and pointing to it. “Is that for me?”
“Ah, yes!” Sidon took the helm and breastplate from his hold and pushed it towards the Oracle. “We leave within the hour, and I wanted to make sure you had proper equipment.” They took it with a nod, running a thumb over the shining metal and looking into their reflection upon it. They seemed hesitant, and Sidon cocked his head.
“What’s wrong? Is it too big for your size?”
“Oh, no!” They looked up to Sidon and shook their head, a small smile spreading across their face. They almost seemed… embarrassed? “It’s just, I’ve- I’ve never really worn armor before? I’m not sure how it should fit or go on me. I’m sorry to cause such a fuss over it.”
Oh, Sidon thought, nodding his head subconsciously. That would make sense, now that I think about it. They’re probably kept far from any sort of battle.
“Well, that’s no issue!” The prince grinned confidently, stepping closer to his friend clad in white. “I’ll help you into it, that way you won’t have to worry!”
They took a step back on instinct, the pink color from before spreading into a soft rose. “Are- are you sure? That wouldn’t be awkward for you?” They asked, voice quiet and meek. Sidon rested a hand on their cheek, his fingers carding through their hair and his thumb tracing along with the apple of their cheek. He placed himself onto his knees, now almost at an even eye contact with the Oracle. Hylians were all so small, he noticed. Small and hopelessly fragile, but all so willing to throw themselves into danger for the greater good.
“Of course not,” He murmured, softer now with the lessened distance. “It would be an honor.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” They bit their lip again, nodding subtly. They put their arms up slightly, a look of confusion washing over them. “What should- where do I…?” Sidon chuckled inwardly at the display, and took his hand from their face to retrieve their armor.
“Keep your arms up like that, even with your shoulders. I’ll fasten this first.” Sidon pressed the front half of the breastplate to their chest and felt the sudden gasp that escaped them beneath his fingers. He began working at the clasps and leather strips along their ribs and brought one over their deltoid, where the shoulder guard soon laid. He got to work along the other side, smoothing their shirt beneath the metal and animal skin. Their breath stuttered again and Sidon looked up to see the Oracle taking great interest in the ceiling. He wondered if his touch was too much, or even unwanted, but he saw the tips of their ears turning crimson and grinned.
“You know,” he began, pulling the clasp through a punched hole in the leather. “The only Hylians I’ve ever had long conversations with other than you have been Link and Queen Zelda.” He moved higher up, taking his time with this buckle and watching the way their chest heaved with greedy breaths. “They were both at least somewhat accustomed to touch, but you seem rather unused to it. May I ask why?”
“I-” The Oracle stammered at the question, at the sudden softness in his voice. The rumble deep in his chest that made their stomach do somersaults. “Well, during my tr-training, I had to detach from- I had to learn to ground myself. I’ve never really been this close to- to anyone.” Sidon looked up at the Oracle, almost shocked by their answer.
“Well, I’m very sorry. We had very different upbringings, Your Grace.” Sidon chirped, fastening the last buckle in their armor. He stayed lowered to the ground as they rolled their eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.
“ Please don’t call me that. It’s bad enough all your citizens do, they treat me like the Queen and I hate it.”
Sidon barked out a laugh, tipping his crest toward the ceiling. “Why do you despise it so? You and Link both seem to wilt away from any sort of attention.” He shot them a wayward grin. “I know I certainly like it, though maybe I’m more desensitized- it’s all I’ve ever known.”
“That’s true,” The Oracle mumbled, looking down to their chest and placing a hand on top of the metal. “I guess this isn’t too bad. Thank you for your help, Sidon.”
“Anytime. Just call my name, and I’ll be at your side.” He hooked his index finger beneath their chin and lifted their gaze, watching the red hue return. “And I mean that, with utmost sincerity.” Sidon could have sworn he felt the Oracle lean into his touch, eyes fluttering shut as they did so. Their gaze flicked back up to him as they struggled to find words, lips parting aimlessly.
“Sidon, I think I-”
A thudding at their door caused the Oracle to jump back from Sidon’s hold, to which he let out a long sigh. Great Hylia, what was it now?
“Your Grace, Prince Sidon?” The Zora Prince recognized the voice of Moven, and felt his scales prickle at the way the Oracle’s eyes seemed to light up. “Link is requesting your presence at the bay. He seemed in a hurry.”
“One moment!” The Oracle shouted back, leaving to gather a few books and potion bottles to stuff into their satchel bag before prying open the comparatively large door. Sidon stood and followed close behind, brow furrowed with confusion.
What were they going to say?
#loz#legend of zelda#botw#breath of the wild#loz botw#legend of zelda breath of the wild#prince sidon#prince sidon x reader#prince sidon x link#link#link x reader#mipha#zelda#the oracle
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Latibule
Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader
Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks & hypochondria, adult language, eventual SMUT
Words: 9790
His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.
His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.
Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.
Notes: hi. this is my first real foray into the world of Haikyuu!! & i’m so excited to branch into this fandom! if this is your first time reading my stuff imma warn you, i take things slow, so expect some slow burn.
this will be a multi-chapter fic with eventual NSFW/18+ only content. i will post warnings for each update. i’ll also link other chapters on this page and any other pages that come up, so keep in mind that there will be edits to links as things progress - i wasn’t planning on this being anything more than a one-shot, but this first exploration of Sakusa’s character turned into a monster & i wanna really hone in on that sweet, sweet build up.
big, huge shoutout to @wickedfaerytale & @albinoburrito for their edits and suggestions. y’all are amazing and i love you both so much, this fic wouldn’t be what it is without the two of you.
Latibule
/lat-i-bule/
noun
a hiding place; a place of safety and comfort
pt. i: an opening
[ pt. ii: four set ] ||
It’s a quiet coffee shop.
He likes that about it. He likes it almost as much as the simple fact that he can tell what day of the week it is by the smell of the disinfectant and bleach that’s being used behind the counter.
There’s a strange comfort to this place’s consistency and Kiyoomi Sakusa likes to linger here, propping his MSBY issued volleyball bag beside his usual table. He’s already placed his coffee order with the cheerful man who guards the cash register, watching as his paper cup is marked with a fresh sharpie and placed on the bartop, beside the elbow of that barista who always attentively turns to wash her hands before making each new order.
He had stumbled upon the shop his senior year of college and he’s haunted it ever since, content to sip on a smooth cortado as he watches over the latest plays from the MSBY games, mapping out his overestimations, his successes, and his flukes in his notebook– carefully lined kanji listing out what worked and what needs some extra practice. The caramel sweet flavor of the ristretto shots always helps to relax him, his broad shoulders lowering, the ache of self-induced tension and overworked muscles easing as his drink cools between his fingers, finally sinking fully into the plush leather seat of his clean chair.
The young woman, he should know your name, but he’s never caught a proper glimpse of your name tag, because you’re always moving, gives him a familiar lifting of smooth lips and places his completed drink on the handoff plane. You know his personal preferences well enough that you’re already moving the caddy of lids and cardboard sleeves forward, so he can select his own from the neatly stacked row. He gives you a cursory nod and his calloused fingertips pull the frothy beverage into his hands, cupping the curved sides and taking a deep drag of air through his masked nose, inhaling the bright smell of fresh coffee.
And…vines…or is it a tangy pine?
There’s something else that’s tickling his senses, and he blinks toward you, dark brows knitting together, a misplaced curl of inky hair brushing against his forehead, trying to make sense of the smell. His chin lifts and his head tilts, eyes watching your polished movements as you move onto the next drink in line. It’s definitely got some floral notes, but it’s not cloyingly sweet, like honeysuckle or gooseberry–no, it’s got some kind of balmy spice to it. It returns when you move closer and he swears he can taste summer when you shift back.
Odd.
When you look up at him again, he’s already stepping away, his running shoes squeaking across the slate tiles, making his way back to his bag and table. The aroma of your perfume is half forgotten when he cracks his laptop open, squirting some hand sanitizer across his chapped palms before he starts to clack his fingertips across the dark keys. He needs to get more lotion; he thinks as the sterile solution cools between his splayed fingers, this weather always dries his skin out.
The next time he comes in he spies you at the back of the shop, jotting something down in a large binder before kneeling behind the counter, returning with a sparkling, grated drain top. The white gleams under the accented lighting and he watches as you thumb at the paint, denoting a splotch of rust that rests under the dip of the metal. You return the cover to the ground and immediately twist to the hand washing sink that rests behind the bar, lathering up some dispensed soap and methodically stroking from the tips of your fingers to your wrists. A steady puff of steam is rising around you as he places his order–
[ a oat milk smoothie, with an extra scoop of protein powder, chia seeds, turmeric, kale, cucumber, dash of dates for sweetener ]
and by the time he’s paid and padding toward his usual spot, you’re finishing up, yanking a few disposable paper towels from the overhead dispenser and gingerly drying your damp hands.
He’s seen you wash your hands plenty of times before, but he finds himself distractedly following your movements this afternoon as he waits for his order and his computer to finish booting up. You catch his obsidian eyes when you turn around and give him a brief smile; a flash of teeth peeking through your lips before you move back to your binder. You jot down a few more notes as you move onto the fridges that sit under the countertops, pulling and prying at the gaskets that line the doors of the whirring chillers, speaking softly to a fellow employee, pointing out the missed stains and chipped flecks of ice that like to hide within the folds of the protective plastic.
You’re not overbearing in your coaching, keeping your tone even and friendly, focusing on what can be done going forward, rather than lingering on the ‘what if’s’ and ‘why wasn’t’ of the situation.
Practical, efficient, thorough with your work, and careful with your craft.
Those descriptors float to the forefront of his mind as he takes his smoothie from the barista that’s standing beside you. He lets his gaze hold against your half leaning form, watching the lead tip of your pencil mark over the stark red checklist that you’re working your way down.
He’s not sure why he’s so focused on you. He’s never thought much about you. You’ve been someone that exists in the background, part of his routine to be sure, but he justifies that your attention to detail is likely the reason why he prefers this shop to the dozens of other coffee houses that litter the main street by the MSBY training facilities and stadium. Your head shifts, and he can tell you can feel his gaze, so he swiftly plucks up his icy cold cup, his nose involuntarily trying to seek out that perfume you’d been wearing the other day.
Strange. His brow furrows, and he hunches into his sports jacket, walking back to his chair and his glowing computer. He can’t smell it today. Maybe you’re too far away, or perhaps you’d forgotten to put it on before coming in.
Pity. He’d liked it.
“Running a little late today, I see,” your voice snaps him out of his stupor, onyx eyes lifting to rest against your open expression.
“Kind of,” he replies blandly, his deep cadence muffled by the pull of his mask.
“Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be late! Want me to push your drink to the front of the queue? I’ve got the power to do that, you know,” you tease, tilting your head as a mischievous grin settles over your quirked lips. Kiyoomi blinks impassively down at you and shakes his head. How would he even reply to something like that? You were joking, right? You must be. And if you weren’t, the people who are clustered around the handoff plane would certainly realize that he was being given his drink first, clearly ahead of all of theirs, and they’d probably toss him a few disgruntled stares or mouthy jabs, and likely accuse you of playing favorites.
Wait. Favorites?
Does he count as a ‘favorite’ here? He looks away, lips drooping into a pursed line. You’ve always been…nice…but there’s no way he’s a favorite of yours. He’s hardly spoken to you in the year and a half that he’s been coming here. But is that all it takes? Just take up space in the cafe a few times a week and get special treatment?
No. You must be joking.
All the same, your jovial tone and that welcoming smile is a little intriguing.
He shuffles closer to the heat of the espresso machines, easily lifting his head over the lip of the bronze metal, watching you. You’re looking down now, fingers gripping the dark handle of the portafilter, holding it under the buzzing grinder to gather a fine sprinkle of dusky espresso grounds into the waiting basket. Then, you lift a lustery tamp to the heaping mound and press expertly against the delicate remains of the arabica, packing them to an even level before clamping the filter under the display of the machine. When you flick the switch that activates the group head you must sense his stare and lift your eyes to his, eyelashes momentarily fluttering against your cheeks when you spy his unabashed observations of you.
For a second, your hands falter, trapped within the unexpected intensity of his curious gaze, and you pat blindly for the cup that’s sitting to the right of your curled arms, embarrassingly disarmed by his transparent focus. But once your grip wraps around the waiting plastic, it seems to ground you and you let out a huffing chuckle, eyes crinkling up at his half obscured face.
“I’m only kidding about moving your drink up, don’t worry, I won’t get you in trouble. Besides, it’s against our policy. First come, first serve and whatnot,” you assure him, halting the stream of water that’s pouring the carefully timed flow of espresso into the clear shot glass that’s waiting against the gleaming metal of the drip tray.
“You’re busy today,” he notes, jerking his curly head toward the gaggle of college students sprawled across some of the bigger tables, their laughing voices and overly loud conversations easily drowning out the hum of lofi jazz that’s playing from the recessed speakers.
“Ah, yeah, finals are coming up for a lot of us that go to the university. I know my classes are starting to gear up for that last push and sometimes you just need a pick me up and coffee is great for that. We also get a big boost from the smoothies and frappes that we sell in the afternoons, so we get a little packed. Most of our sales happen during the weeks leading up to finals and midterms, uh, anyways, not that you asked for an economic lesson on a small cafe’s profit margins.”
“You’re a student?” he asks, head dipping back, eyes glittering in the lights. Wait. How old are you? Not that he can boast any sort of seniority on that front, he’s only 24 after all, but you just seemed, hmm, more mature? He didn’t picture you as a co-ed. Not that he’s actively picturing you when he’s not here. Well, he is a little recently, but you’ve always felt sort of timeless? Ageless? Is that the right term? You give off an air of confidence. So he’d assumed that you were older than him. Not in a bad way, in fact he’d sort of like it if you were. Why, that is, he’s not willing to look too deeply into, at least, not right now. Maybe later, when he gets back home and can…oh, you’re talking again.
“I’m a graduate student, but not for much longer. I’m finishing up my dissertation this week! Thank God. This semester has been the pits, I’m so ready for a break!” You sound genuinely happy and he can smell that faint aroma of your perfume each time you move.
“Congratulations,” he murmurs, unsure if you’d heard him since you’re stepping away from the machines that he’s posted himself behind. He watches you set up two steaming drinks, topping them with a lazy swirl of silky, housemade, whipped cream, a crosshatch drizzle of caramel, carefully snapping a set of black plastic lids on top, before calling out the handwritten names and handing them off to their respective owners. Then you’re back, hands already unhooking the portafilter, knocking out the used espresso pucks into the trash and bringing him back to that spicy smell of summer that sits on your skin.
“Haha, it’s a little early for a congratulations. Don’t jinx me, will’ya? But seriously, thanks, that’s nice of you to say,” you continue, flowing easily back into this half-hearted conversation he’s accidentally struck up with you. He winces at that thought and dips his hands deeper into his jacket, hunching his shoulders into a habitual slouch that he instinctively imposes upon himself when he’s out in public.
“You want a lid?” you question over the hiss of the machine, and he lifts his head, finding your bright eyes through the misting remains of the cleared steam wands.
“No.” His response is clipped, and he gulps down a sudden burst of hazy anxiousness when someone brushes past him, jostling him closer to the low wall that divides the bartop from the cafe floor. He braces himself against the warming top of the machine, his large palm steadying himself, shoulders caving forward, his dark curls falling over his eyes, obscuring his face further. He clenches his jaw, a scowl blooming over his lips.
His social anxiety isn’t anything new, and it’s likely exacerbated by the bustle of the nearby college students, who seem to be getting louder by the second. The noise is needling under his skin. He starts his carefully ingrained breathing exercises, tugging in a deep stream of air through his flared nostrils.
But the smell is coffee is too overwhelming and suddenly his ritual doesn’t help much.
He can feel blood leaving his fingertips and toes, or as his cousin Komori puts it [ the inescapable dread of some imagined ailment, which is making him think that his body is rushing blood from his extremities to his vital organs, his fingertips cold, hands shaking, when in reality ‘you’re just feeling unsure of yourself, man. It’ll be ok in a minute, promise!’ ]
But in the end, it doesn’t matter what anyone calls it, or how they think he should feel during these heart pounding moments, he just knows that he wants to get out of here, now.
His agitation must have twisted the top half of his expression because the feel of your warm fingertips against his wrist jerks him out of his head, causing him to suck in an unsteady breath as he lurches backwards, pulling away from your offending touch.
“Oh! Sorry! I didn’t think…I just…” you bite your lip, a look of stark worry passing over your usually open features. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Are you…are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” he grunts, teeth clenched, right leg bouncing in place against the tiles. Shit. It’s not like he could have predicted that you’d try to touch him, so you can’t really blame him for his misplaced reaction. Just get him his coffee and he’ll be on his way…
Come on…come on…
“Here you go. Sorry for the wait, Sakusa,” you lift on your tiptoes, the stretch of your legs and arms apparent as you hold his cup out, careful to balance yourself against the lever of the steam wand. He takes the proffered drink and nods his thanks at you, his gaze dark. The gesture might be a little strained, and he knows you likely think he’s some kinda freak at this point, but he’s glad to see your customary smile before he turns, shouldering his way out the door and into the promise of open air.
“Stop being so secretive about this place. It’s not like you can’t search for it online, Omi Omi. I saw you come in with the logo of their shop last week and I wanna try it out. Don’t cha’ gimme that look, I deserve to have good coffee too! And if it’s close by you can’t just keep it to yourself! Think about the rest of us, huh? Besides, I think they’d like to see something other than yer’ prickly face every once in a while.” Golden haired Atsumu Miya, his fellow teammate and setter for the MSBY Black Jackals, has been walking beside him for five blocks, jabbering on about the bland offerings of the big box coffee chains that surround their home gym, and how he hasn’t had a good cup of coffee in days. Tch, he’d said months originally, but that was an obvious lie. After all, Kiyoomi pointed out, slipping his mask on before the two stepped into the strong midday sun, he’d come in with an iced coffee two days ago, proclaiming to the whole team it was the best he’d ever had, bar none.
“It’s a small shop,” Kiyoomi glumly elaborates, his dark hair soaking up the rays of sunlight as they crossed the bustling pedestrian walkway. “I think it’s run by an American. The staff speaks English, besides Japanese. There’s one barista in particular, a young woman, she has–”
“English? Oh, hell yeah! I can practice! This is perfect! They got any specialty drinks? I couldn’t see any from the menu that they had online, but I told ‘Samu I’d send him a picture of the place.”
Hmph, what’s the use of bothering to hold a conversation with this guy, Kiyoomi thinks, obsidian eyes narrowing as his brows furrow over his scrunched face, watching Atsumu chatter on about the vague sampling that he’d seen on their website. He’s not listening, anyway.
The coffee shop bell dings as the two of them step into the space, greeted by a waft of freshly ground coffee and the sharp tang of disinfectant. “Ahhh,” Atsumu says, propping his hands on his trim hips and fixing Kiyoomi with a pointed look, “totally see why you like the place. It smells like they have a freaking bleach, whaddya call those, ah, an air freshener! Yeah, smells like they have an ‘eu de bleach’ wall plug in.”
“It’s clean,” Kiyoomi affirms, his own hands sliding into his pockets, fingers wrapping around his wallet as he steps into the line. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Not at all,” Atsumu grins, resting an arm on Kiyoomi’s shoulder as he glances over the chalkboard menu. “Just can tell that must be why you like this place so much. Bet you huff cleaner as soon as you get home.. Speaking of, I still need to see your new apartment, heard you let Ushijima come by and that’s not fair at all. Kinda– ow! Omi, ya’ friggin ass!”
Kiyoomi jerked his arm upwards as he stepped toward the register and the abrupt displacement sent Atsumu’s hand flying up, managing to perfectly strike himself on his nose as he attempted to counterbalance his sudden shift in momentum.
“HA-ah, ahem, I mean…hello! Nice to see you again, sir!” the barista calls out, poorly concealing his mirth at Atsumu’s fumbling behind a gloved hand. Kiyoomi nods curtly, his order on the tip of his lips, but before he can utter anything Atsumu is beside him again, leaning against the well lit pastry case and peering over his options critically.
“Hmm, ya’ got any of those little madeline cakes? They’re vanilla, kinda look like a shell? Saw em’ on yer’ website.”
The barista gives Atsumu a broad grin and twists to talk with someone who’s below the arched dome of the food case, quietly asking a few questions before looking back at the blonde man. “Yeah, we do! We’re actually just putting them out, my manager is checking for the–”
Atsumu steps impossibly closer to the gleaming glass and pops his head over the dome, peering down at whoever is restocking the sweets. “Oh! Hey there!” he chirps, lowering his chin, his face pulling into an exaggerated, cocky smirk. “Ya’ know what I mean, right? It’s kinda like a cake, but it’s small, like a cookie. It’s French. No, it’s not that. Maybe on the next tray? What? I can’t hear ya’. It’s smaller. I can step around, see if–”
A familiar voice pipes up before Atsumu can move closer and Kiyoomi turns, ears instantly pricking up at the sound of your reply. “I said, I know what a madeline is, sir. I’m rearranging and organizing my cart at the moment and, if you’d like, you can order your drinks first. I’ll have the madeline waiting for you on the other side of the bar.”
“Lemme just see one,” Atsumu grins, resting his hands against the glass. Kiyoomi’s lips curl at the sight, watching Atsumu’s hands leave lingering prints behind. Great, now they’ll need to clean and re-polish the display. Besides, you’d said you had them. Why keep pushing the issue? Ugh. If he wasn’t regretting his decision to show his fellow teammate the shop before, he certainly is now.
“Just wanna make sure we’re on the same page, is all. Ya’ might give me something else by mistake and that’s a waste of time for both of us!” Atsumu’s smile broadens, a shadowed look falling over his angular features.
You hop up from your crouched position, a wrapped package with bright blue lettering that clearly says [ French Vanilla Madeline ] on the side, clutched between your fingers. “Oh no, I get it,” you begin, mimicking Atsumu’s cheshire grin with startling accuracy. “You just want to double check! I mean, the words on the packaging do say: Madeline. So unless you mean something else, something that’s not called ‘A French vanilla madeline, made with real vanilla extract and buttery goodness,’ I think we’ve got you covered.”
Your voice is saccharine sweet, lilting over the words, a well-practiced smile lifting your lips. You’re still clearly mirroring the one Atsumu is giving you. It’s the snappiest your tone has ever been, and the fact that it’s being used against his annoying teammate is priceless. Suddenly, he can’t help the laugh that’s already snickering its way past his mask.
“Oi!” Atsumu cries, pushing himself off the case at last, his teeth gritted at Kiyoomi’s obvious amusement. “I just wanted to check! And you, manager lady, don’t be so mean!”
“Pfft, manager lady? It’s (Y/N). And me? Mean? I was not mean, I told you that we had them! I just needed to FIFO some of the other pastries first,” you defend, a surprised exhale falling from your lips.
“FIFO? What is that? Don’t use that food jargon on me! I get that enough from my brother. He does that crap all the time, like it’s some sorta secret lingo. ‘Don’t do that ‘Tsumu, gotta make sure it’s in date’. ‘Don’t come on the line!’ ‘Gotta wear a hat or a hair net if yer’ gonna be back here!’ ‘Don’t mislabel the rice!’ On and on. What’s with you food people? So uptight. Look, I just wanted to try one. Yer’ reviews said they were good! Here, tell you what, give me two. Don’t laugh! Omi, help! She’s picking on me!”
“Stop it, you’re making a scene. Any other inane questions? Or anything else you’d like to order, because I’m certainly not buying any of this for you,” Kiyoomi replies, sneaking a glance at your bemused expression. You catch his eye and give him a quick wink and he finds that his smile stays with him long after he, and a chastened and satiated Atsumu have left the warmth of the coffee shop.
“Mmm, these are pretty good,” Atsumu mumbles between bites of his madeline. “Ya’ want some?”
He stops by after his evening practice, when the sun has long since fallen past the horizon of the city, but as soon as he rounds the corner he regrets his decision.
The cafe is brimming with people. They’re everywhere; outside, they are clustered on the pavement, sitting on the collection of iron wrought chairs, and gathered in groups. Inside, most are sprawled close to the hand off plane, or draped over the couches and tables. They appear to be animated, with computer screens and voices bright, too bright. His usual spot is taken, and he’s already made up his mind to keep walking on but somehow, somehow, he catches your eye.
His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink [ a doppio con panna with bitter lungo shots, poured affogato ] a pleased smile on your soft lips.
Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.
“Hey! Glad I could catch you. Wanted to tell you good luck on your upcoming game! I think I saw on the news that it’s tomorrow? Right?”
“Yes, we’re playing Azuma Pharmacy. They have a good starting lineup. It’s entirely possible that we’ll lose.”
“Jeez,” you exhale, cocking your head at his serious expression. “Kind of a pessimist, aren’t you?”
“I’m a realist. I’m perfectly prepared to beat them, but things always play out differently on the court, no matter what your personal expectations are.”
You give him another smile. This one comes quickly, and it’s bigger than any of the others, the pull of it lighting up your face. It’s different, and he can tell that the way you’re looking at him has shifted; that you’ve liked this answer. He’s not sure why, it’s the truth. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Good point. Well, win or lose, you’ve got my luck! I better get back inside. Your drink is on me by the way, for the other day…when I touched your hand…well, I’m sure you remember. Anyway, see you, Sakusa!”
He watches you slip past the packed lines of students, already rolling up your sleeves so you can wash your hands. Once you’re behind the espresso machine you’re hidden by the burnished copper and he walks on, shouldering his MSBY bag higher, lifting his coffee to his lips. It’s got a rich flavor, well balanced and expertly poured. Once again, he’s reminded that you’re good at what you do and, despite the balmy heat of early spring, that makes his fingers tingle and his skin break out in gooseflesh.
Later, when he’s falling asleep, he keeps seeing your eyes. Watching as your colored irises come alive in the moonlight, hopeful, shining, and wholly focused on him.
At practice, Atsumu insists on completing his post workout stretching next to him. He’s used to Kiyoomi’s sullen silences and barbed retorts, content to chatter however he pleases, flitting from topic to topic as he eases into his cool down routine.
“I need to go back to that coffee shop. Ya’ been back lately?”
“No,” Kiyoomi lies, brushing a stubborn wave of curls out of his sweaty face.
“Too bad. Maybe after Friday’s practice? That girl really knew her stuff. Made some great coffee, too. What was her name? Ah, that’s right, (Y/N). She’s cute, what’s her story?”
Something twinges against Kiyoomi’s rib cage at the word ‘cute.’ Hmm, that’s not normal. He flips to his left side, facing away from Atsumu’s greedy eyes and leering smiles.
“How long has she worked there?”
“Not sure,” Kiyoomi replies, flattening his palm against the cool flooring of the gym. “At least a year, maybe more.”
“That other barista said she was a manager. She’s not one of the owners, is she?”
“Dunno.”
“Is she a student? Kinda strange to see an American working in Japan, and she’s definitely an American. She’s good with the Japanese, but her accent is off.”
“Your accent is off, so I’m not sure what your point is. I can understand her, and I can’t say the same for you.”
“Jackass!” Atsumu snaps, flopping up from his splayed stretch to butterfly his muscled legs. “It’s called a regional accent, and it’s perfectly normal. Ya’ got one too, city boy!”
“See? No one says things like that. You sound like a cartoon character. Sometimes I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Yer’ full of it!”
“Hmph,” Kiyoomi hums, curling himself onto his haunches and flattening the tops of his hands against the floor. The satisfying crunch of his wrists as his fingers settle makes Atsumu visibly shudder and Kiyoomi flashes him a quick smirk of his own, hoping it will spook his stretching companion enough that he’ll leave him be. He prefers to do his cool down in silence.
“She do anything else? Other than diligently slaving over yer’ coffee, that is?”
Tch. It seems that luck isn’t with him today. “She said she’s a graduate student.”
“Oooh, what’s she studyin’?”
“Not sure.”
“Yer’ about as fun to talk to as a stack of bricks, ya’ know? Bet if I’d asked you what her name was the other day all you’d say was, ‘I use’ta just call her barista: first name: cute, last name: girl.”
Kiyoomi doesn’t reply. Something about these questions is bothering him. He doesn’t like that he can’t answer them properly– it’s frustrating, really. All he can honestly tell Atsumu is that you’re neat and efficient, that you have a smile that he can’t quite shake out of his head, a perfume that he wishes he could place, and that, to date, you’ve given him one free coffee. The fact that he knows that you’re a graduate student is sheer luck, information that you’d happened to share with him, not that he’d asked you about. He uncoils his hands and flips them over, letting his eyes rest against his reddened palms. Oh, and you’d touched his wrist once and the sheer metaphysical weight of that contact had nearly sent him stumbling backwards.
It’s stupid; he’s stupid.
It’s not hard to talk with people. It’s just…he knows he’s not good at it. Besides, when would he practice? He’s surrounded by extroverts; extreme extroverts. Extroverts who defy all sense and who usually can’t be silenced unless they’re tucked into a deep sleep, and even then it’s doubtful. Both Hinata and Bokuto have demonstrated that they can, and will, talk in their sleep. Still, it’s frustrating to find himself boxed into a corner, completely at a loss and unaware of the most cursory, mundane, simple, facts about you. For almost two years, he’s seen you at least twice a week, shouldn’t he know more? Why doesn’t he know more?
“Why not give her a ticket to a game?”
Atsumu’s question makes him lift his head, abandoning his musings as he lets the weight of that suggestion sink in. The setter is crinkling his eyes at him now, that all knowing smirk back on his lips, umber eyes hooded, mischievous. “The front office can do that, ya’ know? We’ve got extras. They keep em’ for that purpose. Just say she’s a special guest, or a potential sponsor. They ain’t gonna question you.”
Kiyoomi looks away, crossing his legs and leaning to his right side, feigning disinterest as Atsumu tells him who he can speak with, where he can see the upcoming calendar, and what seats might be open. It’s a good idea, a great idea, and he can’t help but loathe that Atsumu thought of it first.
The ticket is good for a first row balcony seat.
It’s situated in the best spot. He’d picked it out himself, carefully looking over the colored diagram of the stadium and belaboring the proximity of the sight-lines, wanting to let you have a bird’s eye view of the court. Where would he like to sit, if he could watch a game? What works? What doesn’t? Too high and you can’t catch the movement of the ball. Too low and you can’t see the players. Too far to the right or left and you can’t see the breadth of the court. It’s tricky, and he’s cautious with his selection. He can’t help it.
Kiyoomi only considers you not even liking the sport when he’s placing his order, watching as you carefully tuck his empty cup down on the polished steel of the bar. Shit.
The cafe is quiet. The students are gone, and when the register barista goes to the backroom it’s only him and you in the well lit space. The click of the burr grinder almost makes him jump, and he compromises with his nerves by shifting toward his usual table, resting his bag in the chair and taking in a deep breath.
The gentle press of the tamp is audible over the low beats of the music and he hears you knock the side of the portafilter, no doubt leveling off the crushed arabica before you hook the device under the grouphead. Seconds later he sees you flip the switch for his shots, already grooming his heated, foaming, oat milk in the short pitcher, popping the liquid free of any errant bubbles. You’re gentle with this part, and he’s always loved to watch you pour his cortado, liking the raise of your arm and the flick of your wrist as you let the creamy milk flow into the paper cup, swirling a rosetta design through the ochre of the waiting espresso.
Usually, this well-oiled process of yours calms him, but today he feels fidgety and his head is buzzing. The sooner you finish the drink, the sooner he’ll have to talk to you. Shit, shit. When you move the dark lids forward, his hand feels like it’s heating around the slick paper of the ticket, making it clammy and tacky. He bites his lip and removes his hand from his jacket, wiping his palm against his dark jeans.
You’re already looking up at him, nodding toward the fragrant cup that’s waiting at the edge of the handoff plane. Automatically, he lurches forward, completely in-sync with his familiar routine. The question [ would you like a ticket to one of my games? ] is resting on the tip of his tongue and his fingers are hovering beside his cup. He can see that they’re shaking and that sight doesn’t ease him. Then you ask him something and he feels everything skitter to a halt. Why is this happening? It’s just a ticket, it’s just a game.
Wait. You asked him something?
He does his best to ignore the humming of anxious tension that’s filtering down his fingertips and lifts his bowed head. “What?” he mumbles, lips unsticking at last.
“Just asked how your game went the other day. I tried to record it but my stupid cable box isn’t working. I need to try and see you guys, I know I’ve probably said that before, but it’s pretty pathetic of me to not catch one game when the stadium is only two miles away. Plus, I know y’all are a great team! Heard you made the playoffs last year, that’s so awesome!”
It’s a perfect segway.
But he feels like he’s rooted to the spot, like his tongue is trapped against the roof of his mouth, and his hands are too heavy to move, content to shake beside his cooling drink as he whittles his time away, too filled with the what if’s to do anything about the here and now. He’s going down a mental checklist, mulling over each possibility, cautiously tampering with that heady rush of excitement that’s threatening to bubble out of his masked lips. Shit.
He’s gotta check his vitamin intake, maybe he’s low on omega 3s? The team has a general practitioner on standby. He really should call him after this, maybe run by his office before the next practice.
Something’s off with him.
Wait, that worked.
That shift in his whirring thoughts broke him out of that suspended state and then, before he completely fucks this up, the ticket is down against the counter and he’s muttering something about unlimited uses, that if you can’t make it now, then you can always switch the date, or add someone on, if you have a [ boy ] friend you want to take; the next game works best with the seat that’s listed, he’s checked. He knows it’s open. Again, zero pressure and no worries if you can’t make it. See you around.
You might have responded, you might have smiled, fuck, you might have laughed at him. He’s not sure.
All he knows is that as soon as he is out of the shop he’s calling the team’s gp and confirming an appointment for tomorrow morning. It’s not natural for his heart to stutter and thump like that. It could be an arrhythmia.
It could be any number of things.
He hasn’t felt this nervous about a game in years. Sure, it’s a good team, and they have four players that are of his generation, most of them powerful outside hitters that will probably give the Jackals a good run for their money, but they’re not insurmountable. They can beat VC Kanagawa; they’ll have to if they want to advance further in the lineup for the playoffs.
It’s just…
He keeps looking for that seat. Your seat. He’d gotten to the stadium early; opting to forgo the first team meeting, saying he needed to practice his wall drills, work on his spin, but that’s not the real reason. The real reason is something that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. At least, not before a game. He steadies himself, reiterating that it’s not practical or helpful for him to worry about things like that.
Nevertheless, he’s pinned the seat in his mind. He studied it as the lights shuddered on, the maintenance staff flashing him bewildered looks as he stepped into the empty brightness of the court. He’d found it again during the pre-game warmup, onyx eyes committing the location to memory, searching for the little details that he could watch for if he wanted to find it again, later, when the arena was packed with thousands of eyes and waving signs.
As they open the main doors and the seats fill up, he’s still looking at the seat.
“Whatcha looking at?” Hinata asks, his burst of orange hair already slicked with sweat, vivid eyes sharp.
“Nothing.”
The results of Kiyoomi’s physical had shown no outliers, no cause for worry or concern. Everything was fine. He should just get a little extra potassium in, maybe eat a few more bananas in the morning, or after his practices. He’d been a little miffed when he opened the manilla folder, eyes hunting for abnormalities, for a reason, an explanation. If nothing is wrong, then why does he feel like he’s tingling with adrenaline all the time? It makes him light-headed, sluggish, and that’s detrimental to his playability, to his value to his team.
He looks away from Hinata and paces past Atsumu’s arched eyebrow, ignoring the implications of that wicked grin that’s resting on the setter’s quirked lips. It’s fine; he’s fine. His eyes look up to the balcony again. He really shouldn’t be doing that, he reminds himself. It’s a distraction, and he doesn’t–
Oh. There you are.
He can’t make out details, not from this distance, and he suddenly feels self-conscious about his face. There’s no mask. He doesn’t wear it when he plays, and this will be the first time you’ve seen him without it. Suddenly, he wishes he hadn’t cared so much about the visibility of the court. Why did he plant you so far away? If he can’t see you, then there’s no way you’ll be able to tell which one he is either…oh…wait…his name is on the back of his jersey and they’ll announce his number. Nevermind.
The referee calls for the teams to line up and he diligently follows his teammates, standing in his usual spot, ignoring the dull thump of his heart as it beats a ragged tattoo under his ribs.
They won.
They won, and he’d racked up a whopping 23 points for himself, a personal milestone. It’ll be something that will go down on his athletic record, that the local and national news reports will chatter about, that he can feel proud of. He’s glad; you always show him your best, so it’s only fair he does the same for you too.
He’d peeked up at your seat during each time out, each break, every time the momentum shifted, and before he hit every serve. You looked like you had your feet propped up, resting against the metal barrier of the balcony, and he could see that your arms were wrapped around your knees. You were paying attention, and that knowledge made his lungs swell and his pulse quicken.
Now, after he’s finished toweling some of the clinging sweat from his brow and the matted droop of his obsidian curls, he twists back, facing your seat, but you’re not there. An empty curve of plastic greets him and his heavy brows furrow, his fingers dropping the towel onto the bench as they curl up into his palms.
Did you leave? It would make sense, he supposes. The game is over. He just thought you might come down. Might want to talk. Not that he’d have much to say. He never does. Stupid; what would he talk with you about? See the game? Yeah, duh.
The distant voice of MSBY’s public relations manager is calling for him. He’ll worry about it [ you ] later, he thinks, he’s still got a job to do.
During his interview he can hear Atsumu’s voice. It’s annoying. While the setter doesn’t attempt to tone himself down, he rarely talks that loudly. Kiyoomi glances over at his straight back, watching as his hand cups against the back of his golden head, an infectious laugh bursting from his turned lips. Strange. It’s not like him to chat with someone for that long, not when he’s got his own post-game interviews to conduct. He usually–
Ah, it’s you.
Suddenly, questions like: [ how does it feel to be considered for the 2025 Japanese Olympic team? ] don’t matter. His head is half cocked now, dark eyes following the two of you, his comments to the national reporter falling into clipped monosyllables. This is unprofessional; he should focus on the matter at hand, it’s not like him to be distracted.
He’s been thinking about that a lot lately. That so many things are suddenly not like him.
When you push playfully at Atsumu’s shoulder, he lapses into a stormy silence, nails biting into his clenched palms, pressing half moons into his calloused skin. After answering one more question: [ something about his future plans - how’s he supposed to know? That depends on trades, on opportunities. And right now he’s not in the correct frame of mind to answer honestly, not when he can see that you’re right there ] he bows to the smiling face of the reporter, formally concluding his participation in the interview. He knows it’s abrupt; he knows he’ll likely get an earful from the MSBY PR director, from his coach, and from himself, when the full weight of his uncharacteristic rashness hits him, but right now he doesn’t care.
His feet feel like lead and the steps that he’s taking shudder against the gym’s polished flooring. He’s usually smoother than this, more collected, but can’t will himself to stop lurching forward. He tucks his hands into the darkness of his team jacket, coiling his numb fingers into tight balls, and hunches his shoulders. He likely looks like thunder and this suspicion is confirmed when a ball boy scuttles out of his path, eyes wide, but Kiyoomi doesn’t care.
Atsumu hasn’t noticed his approach, but you do, and that shy wave and familiar smile makes his breath catch in his throat. Damn it. What’s going on with him?
Atsumu notices your wandering attention and turns, following your gaze. Once he spots Kiyoomi, he gives him a cheeky smirk, dipping his chin, lazily fixing his amber eyes on Kiyoomi’s arched figure. “Look who caaame!” he calls, lacing his tone with poorly concealed glee. “She said you gave her a ticket. What a great, absolutely original, idea! And you had your record breaking scoring streak today too! Hey! Maybe she’s good luck! Watch out (Y/N), pretty soon we’ll be hooking you up with a personal mascot job if ya’ can light such a fire under our stoic hitter’s ass. Must be something special in that coffee yer’ serving him.”
Kiyoomi narrows his eyes at Atsumu’s blatant needling and the setter chuckles, flipping his focus back to you, sensing the rising agitation that is rolling off of Kiyoomi in waves now. “Well, sure was good to see ya’ again! Talk to me next time, huh? I’ll get you a boxed seat. It’s much better than those nosebleeds in the balconies.”
You shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips, and make a show of rolling your eyes. “Flattery doesn’t suit you, you know? And what boxed seats? Feels like I’d see them if you had them,” you tease, earning yourself a last laugh and Atsumu’s back, a friendly hand waving a last goodbye as he finally strides toward the waiting cameras. Kiyoomi watches him go, his shoulders tense, a feeling of unease settling in his gut. Is Atsumu doing this on purpose?
He almost snaps a retort at his retreating figure, but the sound of your voice immediately snatches his attention toward you. His dark gaze meets yours and the look in your eyes makes his palms feel itchy and his feet scuff mindlessly against the floor.
“This is gonna sound so dumb, but it’s been on my mind since I got here…”
Kiyoomi’s fingers twist in his pockets, coiling over each digit, and his pulse feels like it’s speeding up again. “What?”
“It’s just…well, you look so much younger without the mask,” you let out a small laugh and duck your head, teeth pulling at your lower lip as you face away from his widening eyes.
“Is that bad?”
“No! You look good! Uh, I mean, not that you didn’t…I just wasn’t sure…not that I’d thought about it…a lot…uh, I…yeah, I’m…No, it’s not bad!” You press your hands against your mouth, steepling your fingers under your nose and fix him with a sheepish grin. “Anyway, I know you’ve got things to do, but Miya was right about one thing, you had a great game. I had a lot of fun and it was so nice of you to get me that ticket, and well…”
You pause, lowering your hands to yank your purse forward, fingers digging into the leather before you right yourself once more, returning with a small, zipped bag, and a plastic card that’s balancing atop the metal teeth. “It’s a…well…I sorta tried to think of some things that you might like. To say thanks! It’s nothing fancy. A nail filing kit, because I read that volleyball guys like to keep their hands in tiptop shape, one of those portable ball pumps and some masks.
The masks are from a great company, back home, er, in the states. Well, at least I like them, they’re super durable. And the card, uh, ha, um, the card is to the cafe. I know it’s not super original, but I didn’t know if you liked any other places. And I didn’t wanna assume or — Haha, oh God, I am talking your ear off. Just…here! Take this from me so I can get my foot outta my mouth, okay?”
You press the bag forward and before he can tell you he doesn’t accept gifts from fans, his hands are already out of the safety of his pockets, firmly wrapping around your offering. “Thank you,” he bows. He wants to say more, but he’s not sure how.
He didn’t mean to come by the cafe.
He thought he’d go for a quick run before practice, maybe loop the block, or jog toward the university. None of these things are close to the cafe, but apparently his feet had other ideas. The shop bell rings when he steps inside, wiping some hand sanitizer against his heated palms, onyx eyes alert, already searching for you.
A male barista [ is it Kane? ] greets him and before he can stop himself, he’s asking if you’re there. “Oh, (Y/N)? Nah, she’s off today. But I can make your cortado, you get almond milk, right?”
“Oat,” Kiyoomi replies, voice muffled by his mask. Damn. Why did he come here? He didn’t mean to and now it’s looking like it was a wasted trip. A useless instinct. He’d wanted to thank you properly for your gift, which had been on his mind a lot the past few days. Perhaps that’s why he felt so compelled to jog the extra mile, why he can’t seem to keep away, why he keeps looking for you as he waits, even though he knows you’re not here.
Maybe he can text you his thanks. That would make all of this easier. Oh, wait, does he even have your number? He pulls his phone out of his pocket and examines his contact list, searching for you. No, nothing under your name. Maybe he put it under something else? [ barista? cafe? ] Again, there’s nothing. Damn. Why didn’t he ask at the game? Or when he gave you the ticket?
When he picks up his drink and paces back into the sunshine, he’s still kicking himself that he hasn’t asked for your number yet. It would have made things so much simpler, he reasons, sipping at his coffee; now he’ll have to come back.
But days pass, and he hasn’t returned.
There’s just too much going on. Too many team meetings and late practices. Too much preparation. The pace of his schedule has never bothered him before, but now he keeps hoping for some kind of reprieve.
The other morning Atsumu strode into a meeting with a cup from your cafe, proudly flaunting the familiar label. It made Kiyoomi’s blood boil [ did he see you? talk with you? Did he get to see that addictively pleasing smile of yours? ] and later that afternoon he experienced his first scolding.
“What’s going on, Omi? Five missed digs? This isn’t like you. You look like your head is in the clouds. Come on, get it together. Big game in five days.”
“Sorry, won’t happen again.” It’s all he can say.
When he’s heading toward the team showers, he catches sight of Atsumu’s knowing leer and he grits his teeth, ignoring the huffed snicker and scoffing head shake that the setter sends his way.
Finally, two days later, he’s got some free time. There are other errands he needs to run, things he should do, but the only thing he can think about is you.
He’s walking up from a side street, one he rarely takes, when, at long last, he catches sight of you. You must be on a break. You’re sitting at a bench, facing a small, but well laid flower bed, flipping the pages of your open book languidly as you read under the cool shade of a gnarled tree.
He’s glad he’s wearing the mask that you gifted him.
You’d said that they were durable, and their quality had genuinely impressed him. When he got home, after the game, he slipped them out of their individual plastic cases, fingering the thick, well made materials before washing one. He’d left the others in their containers. He’ll use them, eventually, but not right now. He wants to savor them. He wants them to last.
Kiyoomi is almost to your side when you look up and he bites against his lower lip as soon as you give him that friendly smile of yours, already closing your book and standing, waiting for him to step closer. He comes to a stop in front of you, peering down at you through his dark lashes.
You always smell so nice, he thinks, unconsciously shifting closer, seeking more. You must have showered before coming into your shift because the crisp scent of peppermint and gentle lavender makes his nostrils flare hungrily under his mask.
“Hey there!” you begin, tucking your book into your arms. “Long time no see. How have you been?”
“Fine. I have practice later. I came by the other day. I…” he lapses into frustrated silence, dark brows falling, letting his hands grip at the material of his jacket. Why is this so hard? You, all the others on his team, Motoya [ hell, even the notoriously impassive Wakatoshi has come out of his shell over the years ] can slip into a conversation. Damn it, how can everyone else make this look so easy?
“Saw you’re playing the Adlers soon. They’re the team the Jackals have a sorta rivalry with, right?”
He blinks down at you and lets out a shallow exhale. There you go again. You’re giving him a life raft, a conversation he can fall into, something he enjoys talking about. He remembers his stilted conversation with Atsumu, the one where he did not know about any of the basic things, the obvious things, the things that made you, you. It’s nice that you’re looking out for him, that you’re helping him along, but he doesn’t want to talk about volleyball, not right now.
“We do. How did your finals go? You said you had a dissertation?”
“Oh!” you blurt, your eyes widening, but you’re clearly pleased, even a little excited that he’s asked. “You remembered! Finished it up last week. Now I just need to knock out my revisions and I’ll either go back to committee, or they’ll approve it! I’m hoping they approve it. I’m sick of looking at it, haha.” Your fingers tap against your book and you duck your head, a quick smile passing over your smooth lips. “Uh, did you want to come in for a coffee? Not trying to hold you up, if you’ve got practice to go to.”
“I was the one who came over.” He sounds a little harsh, he thinks, nose wrinkling under his mask. He’s never worried about being blunt, but that doesn’t work here. He doesn’t want to be, not with you. “I mean, I wanted…wanted to say thanks, for the masks and the other things. I like them.” He points to his covered face and you let out a chuckle, gleaming eyes crinkling as you look up at him. Damn, you’re pretty. How has he not noticed that before? He wants to see you laugh again, he’s just not sure how to go about it. Does he even know any jokes? Shit.
“Awe, I’m glad you like them! Speaking of, Atsumu came by a few days ago, I guess you must have worn one around him because he was trying to sniff out if I’d given them to you. He’s a funny guy, but I cannot get a good read on him. It’s almost like he’s doing stuff on purpose, but he’s never blatantly obvious about it. The way he was talking, I was kinda worried he was trying to play a prank on you. Does he like to get under your skin or something? He’s–”
Kiyoomi’s not thinking when he leans down. He’s been doing that a lot lately, not thinking. It makes his skin prickle. Or is that the smell of peppermint on your clean neck, the fragrant lavender in your hair? The kiss is soft; more of a press of his lips than a real caress. But it’s nice, and he actually likes being this close to you, but something feels off and, ah, damn it.
His dark brows knit together, furrowing his forehead, when he realizes what he’s done. He didn’t take off his mask. How stupid. But that shaky gasp of air that you let out when he pulls away, and the following upward lift of your body, your lips chasing his, clearly wanting him to come back, oh that’s so worth it, mask or not.
Your eyes are the first thing he sees when he looks back down, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so perfect. They’re bright, vibrant, and rich with an excitement that makes his toes curl.
The smell of lavender and peppermint, of you, is almost overwhelming, and yet somehow it’s all together, not enough. He doesn’t say anything and neither do you.
What is there to say?
That one, half-formed, touch said it all. It expressed every frustration that he’s felt over the last few weeks, every faded memory of your voice, of your playful smiles, of those hesitant conversations you’ve helped him through. It’s all there, sitting quietly between the two of you, shimmering in the sunlight as you take a step closer and his hands finally fall out of his pockets, waiting, hoping for yours.
“(Y/N)! Break’s over! Coffee’s not gonna brew itself!”
The distant voice of your coworker shatters the euphoria and you tense, pulling away, your head turning toward the barked command as you call out your reply. Kiyoomi huffs out an impatient breath. He wanted to try that again. Do it right this time. How pathetic is he? Kissing you through a mask? But his annoyance dies when you face him again, slipping your hand tentatively into his.
His digits fall limply around yours and he can’t help but marvel at the softness of you. One of his thumbs lifts and he traces the skin along your knuckles, unsure if he’s even breathing anymore. “Come on,” you say, looking down at his touch before lacing your fingers through his, showing him how to hold you. “I’ll make your coffee.”
You’re walking forward and he has the inane urge to snatch you back, wanting to see how the rest of you feels, wanting to know how you’ll fit into his arms, but he distracts himself by following you. There’s a budding warmth that’s spreading from his palm, where your hand rests inside his, to his chest. It feels like a low burning fire is coursing along his veins and his heartbeat thuds out of rhythm, but for once he doesn’t care.
In fact, he thinks he likes it.
He sits in the cafe for too long, his coffee cold, the cup almost empty. But before he leaves [ already so, so late for practice ] he gets your number.
He taps the unfamiliar digits carefully into his device and you watch from the counter, your chin propped in your hand, a gentle smile kissing against your palm. Then he stands, pausing beside you and you run your index finger down his arm, lingering your touch beside his wrist, making him shiver in the warm sunlight, a pleased grin hidden behind his mask.
notes: this man has what, 10 pages of interaction? idk why and idk how, but he is stuck in my brain - like, seriously send help, i think i’m in love.
#sakusa kiyoomi#kiyoomi sakusa#reader insert#sakusa x y/n#sakusa x you#sakusa x reader#kiyoomi x y/n#kiyoomi x you#kiyoomi x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#hq#hq!!#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!! x reader#haikyuu!! imagines#multichapter#this thing is like an ode to coffee#sorry#:3c
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