#extroverted introvert I think probably

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Fun fact but at any given time I’m thinking about how Kaisa is a secretly silly introvert and Johanna is a secretly sad extrovert

[jattendschaton]

Some people are very good at talking to a group and creating an environment where all of them feel very welcome and proactively making sure people are included in all aspects of the conversation and then some people talk to a group as if they are trying to keep everyone divided? Like they are using inside jokes that only one person understands or talk in a guarded way that suggests they are everyone's closest confidant but no one else is allowed to know each other. No real point, I'm just thinking about how much I would rather be the first type of person but how much more common I think the second is

[femmebit3]

Feeling so shitty today idk what’s going on with me

[sailorsally]

Where are those pics of Adam dressed like Duckie from Pretty in Pink I NEED THEM NOW

[licorishh]

Hey as a super introverted but not shy person I'd just like to say the jokes about extroverts "adopting" introverts to "get them out of their shell" are actually completely unfunny and it just goes to show how little respect a lot of y'all have for the fact that we genuinely don't want excessive social interaction and that y'all are forcing us to do something that brings us extreme physical and mental discomfort because you perceive our introversion as a failing rather than as purely a difference in personality.

We don't need your "help" to socialize. We're not children. We're simply not interested in spending every waking second of our lives talking to people and being talked at in return.

[akkivee]

I find myself in need of a BAT stan/Kuko stan's opinion, so I am once again returning with a question about something you have probably definitely talked extensively about before: Do you think Kuko is the type who, even if he knows saying a certain thing will make a situation worse, will still find himself just saying it unconsciously/on auto-pilot?

this is a neat question lol!!! i’m gonna have to go with no, not unconsciously he wouldn’t!!!!

kuukou’s thing is that he’s sure of himself and his principles. he’s quick to act and speak because he believes that he’s true and in the right. i can’t think of a time that he isn’t right, it’s just his methodology can be a little extreme lol (ex: kuukou, in harmonious cooperation, got in trouble for punishing a fellow monk who had defaced a grave and then chewed out that monk’s father for raising his kid wrong lol) and/or just isn’t right for the occasion (ex: upon being called out for his immaturity handling the above situation, he called over jyushi and hitoya to help them with their problems but he didn’t know what was up with them and blindly promised to solve their issues)

when he’s not so sure about anything, he turns inward, keeps to himself about it and isn’t so quick to act. the unami chapter is full of that; unami is acting weird and kuukou can tell, but he keeps it to himself and stays cheerful around her until she’s out of earshot and asks ichiro if something’s wrong with her. in the nb track, ichiro and kuukou are witness to this pimp selling out these women and kuukou wants to blow up the joint basically to get them out of their situation but ichiro tells him just rushing in will do more harm than good, bc if something goes wrong he doesn’t want that responsibility. kuukou had been vibing with ichiro not wanting to be reckless lol until he said he didn’t want that responsibility, to which kuukou hums thoughtfully but later teases ichiro about after kuukou gets his okay to help one of the girls being pimped out. like, his right principles often have the potential to make ichiro’s living situation worse so he usually doesn’t act or speak on them until ichiro comes to the same conclusion

there is a scene in harmonious cooperation (the manga adaptation of the scene i think is best), where kuukou asks the buddha statue in his temple for direction and when the statue ofc says nothing, kuukou kinda mutters to himself he wasn’t really expecting anything out of that. (the buddha answered him by) shakku then comes to chew his son out for that, but shakku had been eavesdropping; kuukou talking to himself was a private moment so if he says anything unconsciously, it would be when he’s alone

so tl;dr, he might say something unconsciously if he’s alone but otherwise, his thoughts are pretty private in uncertain situations!!!!

[ashtonisvibing]

see, you may think i'm mostly obsessed with the egos

you just haven't seen how big the "oc" part of my brain is

[cats-in-the-clouds]

it is unfortunate when i go to prayer and cry my eyes out and the only response i really hear is that i simply have to bear it. like usually i can get my emotions out and once they’re settled i hear a rational solution but it sucks when i don’t get the answer i want. i just have to keep waiting. like normally i hear something that gives me strength but wow apparently i’ve hit a new low

[woogimbap]

i love how extraordinary attorney shows that autistic people can try to be outgoing and friendly but still get ignored. some of us can be extroverted and approach others but that doesn't make us any less lonely or alienated from the world

[mrfoox]

If I ever received the type of love I give... I'd die

[bogkeep]

heelllppppppp i wrote this before i headed back to the house, and when i did oslo girl was having a smoke on the porch in front of the door like a guardian of the gate (SIDE NOTE: a common local greeting is the cute and whimsical "heia :)" which i like quite a lot and need to incorporate into my own speech more. a common oslo greeting is "halla" which i do Not like for completely irrational reasons. the vibes are bad)

and she did the whole thing that's like. "i need to tell you something. i really admire how brave you are for existing as yourself and being who you are. i think it's so great" and I APPRECIATE THE SENTIMENT BUT ACK. the number of times this keeps happening to me. omg theo you're sooo brave for being weird in public. it's so brave how you dress like that. keep being yourself forever even if we are really mean about it the whole time :))))

at least she offered me a can of orange soda so i will let it slide

today was a very chill day at work (compared to this weekend which was NON STOP busy, there was a music festival in a neighbour town so there were extra many people in the area), and we made record sales last week so we all got free ice cream :3 so i decided to make the Choice of taking an ice cream break (so wise) and sit down next to other coworkers, including oslo girl (unwise) and they happened to be discussing dating............. (important note: other people present were the czech couple, who have been together for seven years and have had zero drama or Weird Heterosexualisms in my presence)

oslo girl: i don't like being mean to people, but you HAVE to be mean to men :(

me (ostensibly a transgender man): well i don't like it when people are mean to me

oslo girl: no i mean in relationships, you know?

me: no, i don't know??????? sounds fake

oslo girl: have you dated men?

me: welllllllllllll

oslo girl: you prefer women?? that's soooo much better, lucky you

me:

me, not even going to bother to explain my whole aro ace deal: i have been in relationships with various gender categories, just haven't been with a cis man Specifically

me: i think what you're talking about is some weird heteronormativity, i don't think there's anything Inherent in cis men that makes them all Like That, i think it's a cultural thing

oslo girl: noooooo there's definitely biological differences for how different genders behave

me, still ostensibly a transgender man: [turns towards the camera]

(not pictured, all the times oslo girl reassures the czech guy that he's nice and then turning towards czech girl like "BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN RIGHT???")

[stellaspectral]

I have two requests, both with the Bayverse turtles. This is the second one:

Raphael x Female Reader.

Fluff. Lots of Fluff. With some introspection too maybe? Extrovert Grumpy (Raph) x Introvert Sunshine (Reader).

I was thinking of something that would focus on their blooming relationship but seen through the eyes of Leo, Donnie, and Mikey. Or just one of them of your choice if this request gets too long. It's the first time they've seen Raph act so soft, sweet, and calm and awkward around someone and they'll definitely have a lot of thoughts going on in their heads about it. And maybe a lot of teasing too ;). Thank you so much in advance if you decide to write it!

A/N: Hello, anon! To be honest, I wasn’t sure whose POV of Raph and the reader’s relationship to write in. But it seems I ended up gravitating towards Leo the most. Though the other two still have commentary, of course.

Enjoy! 💖

Drawn to You (fluff)

❤️ Bayverse Raphael/Female Reader ❤️

CWs: Fluff, soft/awkward Raph, implied crush/pining, brotherly teasing. All characters are aged-up.

You’re curled up on the couch in the lair, nestled deep into the cushions, sketchbook open on your lap. The paper is smooth under your pencil as you draw one of the graffiti markings on the wall opposite you. You add a final flourish to the spray-painted tag you’ve replicated, tilting your head to admire your work.

Suddenly, the lair’s entrance tunnel echoes with boisterous sounds. Footsteps herald the return of the turtles from whatever topside excursion they were on. You instinctively snuggle a little tighter into the couch, a cheerful smile tugging at your lips.

The first one who enters is Leo, already mid-sentence, gesturing emphatically. “… and I told you the grappling hook wouldn’t hold on that gargoyle, Donnie, but did you listen? Nooo.”

Donnie follows, looking mildly exasperated. “My calculations indicated a 93.9% structural integrity probability. Clearly, the masonry was older than I initially thought.”

Mikey comes in last, practically vibrating. “Dude, did you see that flip Leo almost didn’t stick? Epic fail waiting to happen, bro!”

Last comes Raph. He enters more quietly than usual, rubbing the back of his thick neck, his usual post-patrol scowl firmly in place. His eyes scan the lair, likely checking if Splinter is meditating nearby. Then they land on you.

And something shifts.

It’s subtle, almost imperceptible if you didn’t know him. But from the entryway, where his brothers have paused their bickering to shed their gear, the change is glaringly obvious.

Leo stops mid-gesticulation, his eyes widening slightly. He nudges Donnie, who adjusts his glasses purely out of habit, and raises a questioning brow ridge. Mikey just freezes, his usual bouncy energy stilling as he watches.

Raph’s shoulders, typically tense and ready for action, visibly relax. The deep V of his scowl softens, not quite disappearing, but smoothing out into something almost … hesitant. He takes a step towards the living area, then another, his heavy footfalls strangely muted on the floor. He seems to be actively trying not to stomp.

He stops a few feet away from the couch, his enormous frame suddenly looking a little awkward in the open space. He clears his throat, a low rumble that’s much softer than his usual volume. “Hey,” he says, his voice rough but lacking its typical edge. “You, uh, good?”

You look up, beaming at him. The brightness of your smile seems to physically hit him; he blinks, shifting his weight. “Hey, Raph! Yeah, I’m great. Just drawing.” You hold up your sketchbook. “How was the patrol?”

“Uh, fine. Usual.” He glances towards the graffiti you were drawing, then back at your face. There’s a flicker of something warm in his eyes, a stark contrast to the ‘ready-to-rumble’ look he usually sports. “Looks good.” He takes another step closer, peering over your shoulder, but careful not to crowd you. There’s an uncharacteristic gentleness in his proximity.

Meanwhile, by the entrance, a quiet conversation is happening.

“Dude, look at him,” Mikey whispers, pointing with a slight nod of his head. “He’s doing ‘the thing’ again.”

“Define ‘the thing’,” Donnie begins. “His heightened state of peripheral awareness when she’s present? His decreased vocalizations? The slight, almost imperceptible softening of his default scowl?”

“All of it, brainiac!” Mikey whisper-shouts. “He looks like a big, shy puppy trying to ask for pets without barking too loud.”

Leo, leaning against the wall nearby, arms crossed, watches with a more measured expression. He’s noticed it too, of course. How could he not? Raphael, his brother who communicates primarily through grunts, glares, and the occasional explosive outburst, becomes … subdued around you. Gentle. It’s baffling.

And, Leo has to admit, a little heartwarming.

Donnie pushes his glasses up again. “Fascinating. Physiologically, his respiration rate appears elevated, but his aggressive posturing shows a significant reduction. Perhaps a neurochemical response triggered by proximity to a preferred individual?”

“Or maybe,” Mikey stage-whispers, leaning closer to his brothers, “he liiiikes her!”

Back by the couch, Raph shifts again, his gaze locked on the sketchbook page. He points at a specific detail in your drawing. “You got the … the little flicky bit there just right. The way the paint kinda dripped.” He clears his throat again. “How’d you get so good at this?”

“Years of practice,” you say, offering him another warm smile. “Want to see the others I did?”

His head snaps up, eyes wide for a fraction of a second, that warmth flickering more brightly. “Uh … yeah. Sure. If you wanna show me.” He moves closer but doesn’t sit. His gaze drifts from the sketchbook back to your face, lingering for just a moment longer than strictly necessary.

Across the room, hidden partially by the archway leading to the dojo, the espionage continued.

“See? SEE?” Mikey whispers. “He’s leaning! Like, actually leaning in to look at her drawings! Raph never leans! He looms. Or glares.”

Donnie analyzes the scene. “Observation: Raphael’s typical personal space boundary appears significantly reduced in relation to her. Approximately 45 centimeters closer than his baseline average with non-familial individuals. Also, note the lack of fidgeting typically associated with his impatience. Instead, he exhibits micro-shifts indicative of … social anxiety? Or perhaps, contentment?”

“It’s called being smitten, Donnie,” Leo supplies, pushing off the wall. Casually, he saunters closer to you and Raph, ostensibly to put away his katanas. But truthfully, he’s only positioning himself for a better view.

“Never thought I’d see the day Raph looked like he was afraid of scaring someone just by breathing too hard,” Donnie murmurs.

“He asked how she got good at drawing,” Mikey adds, eyes wide with dramatic effect. “He usually just grunts and says ‘cool’ if he likes something. He used words. Multiple words! In a question!”

Back at the couch, you’re flipping through the pages of your sketchbook. Raph remains standing, his large hands clasped loosely behind his back, a pose that looks strangely formal and uncertain on his powerful frame. He’s genuinely looking at each sketch, his brow furrowed in concentration, not anger.

“This one’s the mural down by the old noodle shop,” you explain, pointing to a vibrant, detailed reproduction. “And this is that little stencil someone keeps putting on the mailboxes near the park …”

“Yeah … know that one,” Raph mumbles, his gaze flicking up to meet yours for a second before darting back to the page. That warmth is definitely there, a banked fire behind his usual tough-guy facade. “You … uh … you really capture the … the feel of ‘em.”

“He’s complimenting her artistic interpretation,” Donnie murmurs, sounding genuinely astonished. “The probability of Raph using such nuanced appreciation is statistically infinitesimal under normal circumstances. This deviation is remarkable.”

“Translation: Raph’s got it BAD!” Mikey giggles, barely containing himself.

It’s Leo’s cue. He finishes securing his swords and wanders over to the couch area, stretching nonchalantly. “Hey, Raph,” he calls out, his voice deliberately casual but loud enough to carry. “Everything alright? You look a little flushed. Feeling okay?”

Raph visibly tenses. His head snaps towards Leo, the soft expression vanishing, replaced by a familiar annoyed glare. “I’m fine, Leo. Just … lookin’ at sketches.” The last part comes out defensive.

“Oh yeah?” Leo stops near the armrest, peering over Raph’s shoulder, mimicking his earlier pose but with deliberate exaggeration. “Whatcha got there? Wow, Raph’s right, these are amazing! You really captured the … spray-e-ness.” He gives Raph a pointed look.

You smile up at Leo. “Thank you.”

Raph shifts uncomfortably, caught between your presence and his brother’s obvious teasing. He shoots Leo a warning look that clearly reads, ‘Don’t push it’.

Mikey, never one to miss an opportunity, comes over. “Ooh, lemme see! Wowzers! Raph, you never told us she was this talented! Usually, you just grunt about stuff.” He grins cheekily. “Guess some things make you wanna use your words, huh?”

A faint reddish tinge creeps up Raph’s neck. “Shut it, Mikey.”

Finally, Donnie approaches. “Indeed. Raph’s verbal communication frequency increases by approximately 35% in her presence, correlating with a decrease in aggressive posturing by nearly 50%. Fascinating psycho-social dynamics are at play.”

“Donnie!” Raph snaps, turning fully towards his brothers now, creating a partial shield between them and you. It’s a protective gesture as much as a defensive one. “Can’t you go … I dunno … invent somethin’ or annoy Splinter?”

“Aw, but Raph,” Mikey whines playfully, leaning around him to beam at you, “we just wanna hang out! Like you’re hanging out! Looking at pretty drawings.” His gaze flicks meaningfully between you and Raph.

You look between the brothers, catching the teasing undercurrent and noticing Raph’s struggle to maintain his composure. A small, amused smile tugs at your mouth. You reach out tentatively and pat Raph’s arm, feeling the muscle beneath twitch slightly at the contact.

“It’s okay, Raph,” you assure softly. “I don’t mind showing them.” You look back at your sketchbook. “Maybe you guys could even give me ideas for what to draw next?”

The effect on Raph is instantaneous. His glare softens again as he looks down at you, the tension visibly draining from his shoulders. The slight flush on his neck deepens, and the anger has dissipated, replaced by that familiar, flustered awkwardness. He clears his throat again. “Uh … yeah. S-sure. If … if you want.”

Leo, Donnie, and Mikey exchange looks. Whiplash. One gentle touch, a few soft words from you, and Volcano Raphael is dormant once more.

Leo can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. Oh yeah; this was definitely unfamiliar territory. And watching Raph navigate it, with all the grace of a tank trying to tiptoe through a minefield, was going to be endlessly entertaining. Regardless, he steers Donnie and Mikey away to give you and Raph some space.

“Did you see that?” Mikey whispers dramatically, eyes sparkling. “Poof! Grumpy gone!”

Raph lets out a breath as his brothers retreat towards the kitchen, their voices fading but their knowing glances still palpable. He visibly deflates, the tension leaving his body in a rush, but he remains standing.

“So,” you prompt gently, tapping your pencil against the sketchbook. “Ideas?”

He glances around the lair, eyes snagging on a training dummy, then the weapons rack, before finally landing back on your sketchbook. “Maybe … maybe you could draw … you know that bit of wall near the docks? The one where the bricks are all busted up and kinda looks like a face if you squint?”

You tilt your head, picturing it. “Oh, yeah! With the really deep cracks running through it? I know the one.”

“Yeah. That.” He gestures vaguely with one hand. “It’s kinda cool. Looks tough. Like it’s been through stuff.” He seems pleased with his own description, though his gaze flicks nervously towards the kitchen, checking if his brothers overheard.

From the kitchen doorway, Mikey leans out, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Ooh, busted bricks! How romantic, Raph! Maybe she can draw a little heart graffiti next to it?”

Raph whirls around, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Mikey! I swear—”

“Easy, you two,” Leo’s voice drifts from deeper within the kitchen.

Raph clenches his fists, his neck flushing that familiar red again. But then he catches your eye. You’re watching him, not with fear, but with a patient, amused expression. He forces himself to take another deep breath, turning back towards you. The growl subsides, though his jaw remains tight.

“Ignore them,” you say, offering a reassuring smile. “I like that idea. The texture of those old bricks would be interesting to capture.” You flip to a fresh page in your sketchbook, wanting to get Raph involved. “Show me again where the cracks look like a face?”

His anger drains away almost comically fast. He steps closer, bending at the waist to peer at your blank page. He hesitates, then lifts a finger, hovering it just above the paper, careful not to touch. “Okay, so … the big crack goes down here, like this …” He traces the shape in the air above the page. “And there’s these smaller bits that kinda … yeah, like eyes. And the busted bit at the bottom looks like a grumpy mouth.”

He’s leaning closer now, his usual intimidating presence softened by his focused explanation. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, smell the faint scent of the city night still clinging to his gear. He’s completely absorbed in describing the broken wall, his voice losing some of its earlier hesitation.

“Grumpy mouth, huh?” you muse, sketching lightly based on his description. “Sounds appropriate.”

He glances up, meeting your eyes directly for a solid second. The warmth there flares, intense and unguarded, before he quickly looks back down at the sketchbook. “Yeah. Guess so.”

You continue sketching, adding details as he describes them. He stays close, watching the image appear on the page. A few more details he points out include a loose wire hanging nearby, and a specific pattern of moss. He’s surprisingly observant.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, the others continue their own observation at a lower volume.

“He’s practically an art historian now,” Mikey says, his voice full of suppressed laughter. “Describing moss patterns! Who knew Raph noticed moss?”

“Or maybe,” Leo murmurs, leaning beside Donnie, arms still crossed, “he just actually wants to talk to her.” He keeps his voice low, not wanting to break the weirdly calm bubble that seems to have formed around the couch.

You finish the rough sketch of the brick wall face, holding it up. “Like this?”

Raph leans in again. He’s closer now, close enough that you could probably count the scars on his face if you wanted to. “Yeah,” he says, his voice dropping even lower, almost a rumble. “Looks good.” He doesn’t pull back immediately this time, his gaze lingering on the drawing, then flicking up to meet yours again.

But then he seems to realize how close he is and moves back half a step, a faint pinkness rising on his cheeks this time.

“They almost touched noses!” Mikey whisper-squeals from the kitchen, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Proximity threshold breached and self-corrected,” Donnie observes.

Leo just shakes his head, a wry smile touching his lips. Donnie could analyze the shell off a turtle, but even he couldn’t miss the obvious: Raph is head over heels.

You flip to another blank page. “Any other cool spots you think would make good sketches?”

Raph hesitates, glancing around the lair again as if searching for inspiration that isn’t potentially embarrassing. His gaze falls upon the worn-out punching bag in his room. “Maybe the bag?” he suggests, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Got a lot of … history.”

It��s a simple object, beat-up and functional, but the way he suggests it feels oddly personal, like he’s offering a small piece of himself.

Leo watches you and Raph. You’re smiling, considering the punching bag with genuine interest. Raph looks at you as you watch the bag, his expression a strange mix of hopeful and apprehensive. The usual storm cloud that follows Raph seems to have dissipated, replaced by this uncertain, almost sunny humidity. It’s weird.

Good weird, mostly, Leo thinks.

Donnie and Mikey look at Leo expectantly, waiting for the punchline. The teasing remark. But Leo looks past them, back towards the couch. Raph sees him, his shoulders tensing again as he braces for the usual barrage. He glances from Leo, back to you, then to Leo with a silent plea in his eyes.

And, for once, Leo listens. He sees the vulnerability there, the raw awkwardness that his brother tries so hard to hide behind muscle and scowls. He’s navigating something new, something that doesn’t involve fists or threats, and he’s doing it clumsily. But he’s doing it.

Leo catches his eyes from across the room. He gives Raph the smallest, almost imperceptible nod that says, I see you. It’s alright. Then Leo turns to his other brothers, lowering his voice. “Alright. Squad, you’re dismissed.”

Mikey opens his mouth to protest, probably armed with a dozen heart-related puns.

“Now,” Leo orders, cutting him off with a look that says I mean it. “Let the big guy breathe. Go sort your gear or something.”

Donnie raises a brow but nods slowly, seemingly accepting the logic of allowing the current social experiment to proceed without further variables. Mikey pouts but follows Donnie, muttering something about ‘mood killers’ and ‘romantic potential.’ Leo leans back against the counter, crossing his arms.

You’re sketching the punching bag, asking Raph about a specific tear near the top. He’s answering, his voice still low, leaning in again, pointing with that same hesitant finger. He looks … quiet. Focused. Almost peaceful.

It’s a side of Raph Leo rarely sees. The fighter, the hothead—that’s the Raph they all know. But this Raph, the one who describes moss patterns and gets flustered by a smile, is new. For Leo, it’s actually kind of nice to see his younger brother soften, even just for a little while.

Perhaps Raph wasn’t just doing ‘the thing,’ as Mikey put it. Maybe he was just being Raphael.

And maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.

[trickphotography2]

Rooster wasn't for you. You were opposites in so many ways - he was an extrovert to your introvert. The center of attention to your wallflower. You weren't interested in a one night stand, and he couldn't offer more. So his volunteering to help with Friendsgiving was just a friendly gesture after you returned from a deployment...right?

Word count: 7.8K

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“Just a minute!” you called, swiping a strand of hair from your face. The knocking stopped, and you quickly washed the flour from your hands, drying them on the towel thrown over your shoulder while heading to the door.

And there, standing on your front step as the sun started to rise, was Bradley. His normally styled curls were sleep-mussed, his grey t-shirt clinging to his arms and untucked from his Navy PT sweatpants. The smile on his face grew as he took you in - sweatpants, a baggy sweatshirt dotted with flour, fuzzy socks, and not a stitch of makeup. The difference from your normally put-together appearance was stark. “Morning, Duch.”

“You’re late.” Laughing, he held up a bag of microwavable frozen corn.

“Had to turn around when I forgot my contribution.” Rolling your eyes, you stepped back to let him in, watching to ensure he removed his shoes before following you into the kitchen.

“The turkey’s already thawed and in the sink. I just need you to clean it out, and I can take it from there.” Bradley nodded, tossing you the corn before going to the kitchen. You put it in the freezer and walked to the downstairs bathroom to wash your hands before resuming your spot at the counter, picking up your bread lame and staring at the unbaked loaf. A part of you wanted to do a simple score, knowing that it would just be eaten, but the hostess in you demanded a more intricate design. The indecision tore at you. To buy time, you sprinkled the top with more rice flour. 

“Can you get me the trashcan?” Bradley asked, and you nodded, quickly abandoning your project. After you set it beside him and pulled off the cover, he tossed the netting and plastic. You couldn’t help but notice his biceps flex as he shifted the turkey. But you shrunk back when he reached into the cavity and pulled out the giblets and gravy package, shaking your head at his raised eyebrow. He discarded them as you braced yourself, nose scrunching when he removed the neck. “You alright there, Duch?” he teased. 

“Gross.” 

“It’s just a turkey neck,” he said, holding it closer to you. You jumped back.

“I will throat punch you if you touch me with that.” He laughed, edging it closer, and you raised a fist. There was a reason a condition of you hosting everyone for Friendsgiving was someone else cleaning the turkey.

“Didn’t take you for being squeamish.” 

“You would be, too, if your grandpa chased you around the house with it when you were a kid, and you had to lock yourself in a bathroom to escape.” At his barked laugh, you shook your head. “I told that to my ex, and he thought it was funny to put it in his zipper and chase me around the house with it. If floppy dick isn’t attractive, a turkey neck sure as shit isn’t.” 

Bradley choked on a laugh. For as prim and proper as you were at times - hence the callsign Duchess - you sometimes reminded everyone that you also had a military sense of humor. “Maybe you just haven’t seen the right ‘floppy dick,’” he smirked, dropping the neck into the trash. 

Shrugging, you glanced away from him when the oven beeped, alerting that it was preheated. “You’re right. Bob probably has a pretty one.” A rosy flush crept up his cheeks as he turned back to the turkey and forced a laugh. Bradley didn’t want to hear that you were thinking about Bob’s dick. “Put it in this afterward, and I’ll dry it.” After dropping the roasting pan beside him, you rewashed your hands.

Standing in front of your bread, you bit your lip to keep from giggling as you contemplated scoring a dick into the dough but decided to go with a traditional wheat stalk. To your surprise, he grabbed the roll of paper towels by the sink and patted the turkey dry, even the cavity. As you removed the Dutch oven from the preheated oven, he tied up the trash bag and took it out. After putting the bread into the oven, you set the timer and moved to the sink, glancing at Bradley when he came back in. Standing beside you, he reached for the soap and lowered the water temperature before scrubbing his hands. Removing the hand towel from your shoulder, you draped it over his after drying your hands. “Thanks,” he murmured. 

“Thanks for taking care of the turkey.” Standing by the island, you crouched to retrieve a cutting board. The sound of other cabinets closing made you peek over the countertop to see him rooting through the overhead storage. “Are you looking for something?” 

“Coffee mugs.” Biting back a retort about making himself comfortable, you pointed to the right of the stove. You bit your tongue when he grabbed two mugs - including your favorite - and went to the wet bar where the full pot was finished brewing. Placing the cutting board on the counter, you grabbed a knife from the block and were surprised to see a mug of coffee beside your workstation. Murmuring your thanks, you grabbed the creamer from the fridge along with packages of herbs and butter. “What are you making?” Bradley asked.

“A marinade since I didn’t brine the turkey.” 

“You want a hand?” 

“I’ve got it,” you said automatically. “I’ve got a schedule.” He didn’t need to know that you were already behind after falling asleep on the couch early last night and forgetting to set your alarm. And he definitely didn’t need to know that you’d only been awake for 20 minutes before he arrived. If you put your head down and focused, everything would still be ready to eat at the agreed-upon 3:00 PM. Some of your time to get yourself ready would just have to be sacrificed. For some reason, you’d insisted that everyone dress nicely for Friendsgiving. Wearing a uniform almost every day didn’t give you any opportunities to dress up, and sometimes it felt nice to wear something other than jeans and a t-shirt. 

Setting your tablet up, you navigated through the bookmarked recipes and rinsed the herbs before pulling them from the stems. Bradley leaned against the counter beside you and sipped his coffee while glancing around the kitchen. Seeing him relaxing there, one leg crossed over the other and looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, made something flutter in your chest. 

“You know, you could have saved a lot of time if you’d just agreed to let Hangman fry the turkey.”

That made you snort. “I just finished my renovations - the last thing I want is for my house to burn down.” It had taken months to get your home exactly how you wanted it. After twelve years in the Navy, you were ready to put down some roots, and buying a home had seemed like the smart thing to do. Living in a construction zone for the last year hadn’t been fun, but a well-timed deployment meant you weren’t there for the worst of it. The results were worth the pain, and you’d jumped at the chance to host when you got back and realized most of the squad had no plans for Thanksgiving. You couldn’t wait for them to see the changes in the Craftsman that had been a definite fixer-upper when you purchased it. The kitchen had been completely gutted and replaced with double ovens and quartz countertops, and the smaller kitchen island had been moved and changed to a wet bar with a wine fridge, replaced with an oversized one. The popcorn texture was scraped from the ceiling throughout the house, the floors redone, and the walls painted. The primary bath had been updated with a large soaker tub and walk-in shower, and you loved the giant closet. The guest bathrooms still needed work, as did the yard, but those were projects for later. 

“It looks good, Duch,” he said softly, gaze holding yours for a long moment. You felt those inconvenient butterflies again and shoved them aside, dropping your eyes to the cutting board. Bradley wasn’t for you. You were too different - he enjoyed nights out at the bar, while you liked to spend time at home. He liked being the center of attention while you preferred to blend into the background. Besides, he didn’t seem much like a relationship guy, given the number of flings he had at the Hard Deck, while the idea of casual dating gave you hives. Pushing away from the counter, Bradley reached under the sink for a trashbag, putting it into the can before washing his hands. He moved closer, nose twitching slightly at the scent of rosemary, and braced his big hands on the countertop beside you. “Alright, what can I do?” 

“You don’t - ”

“Lemme help.” His eyes met yours, smiling when you sighed. 

“Fine. The meat injector is in here,” you said, bumping one of the drawer handles with your hip. “And I’ll need the chicken stock from the pantry.” Pouring the stock, herbs, and a couple of sticks of butter into a stockpan, you handed Bradley a silicone spatula and told him to stir. You rolled your lips together to keep from smiling when he pulled his phone from his pocket and watched videos of turkey injections before declaring he would be in charge of it. Reluctantly, you agreed. Once the marinade had cooled, the bird was given a second drying, you had finished the coffee, and Bradley had rewatched the video three times, it was time. He studied the turkey through narrowed eyes as you tried not to laugh. “You want to - ”

“Ah!”

“The breast and thighs - ”

“I’m doing it, Duch,” he cut you off. 

“Well, remember that if it turns out dry.” The unimpressed look Bradley shot you made you grin as you put your chin in your hand and motioned for him to proceed. The tip of his tongue poked through his lips as he filled the injector and hovered the needle over the turkey. His eyes darted to you, and you raised an eyebrow. “You can tap out at any time, Rooster.” Instead of replying, he pierced the meat and pushed down on the plunger. You couldn’t help but laugh when he yelped, marinade spraying in his face after pushing too hard. But when he reached to wipe it away, you caught his hands. “Don’t put turkey germs all over your face,” you scoffed, towing him toward the sink. You held his chin while cleaning his face with wet paper towels. 

“Now you’re just messing with me,” he chuckled when you scrubbed his mustache, but he didn’t pull away. His breath was hot on your hand, and his smile soft when you reached up to dab away a speck of garlic in his eyebrow. Balling up the paper towel, you shook your head. 

“Wash your face with soap to make sure you don’t get salmonella. Cyclone’ll kill me if you’re out with food poisoning.” Turning on the water, you ensured it was warm before getting a clean washcloth. The oven timer beeped as you dug through the linen closet, and you hurried back into the kitchen, throwing the towel on the sink beside him and grabbing the pot holders to take out your bread. Once it was on the wire rack to cool, you moved to the turkey. 

“What’re you doing?” Bradley demanded, turning while drying his face. 

“Taking over.” You gasped when he closed the space between you in a few strides, wrapped his arm around your waist, and lifted you away from the counter. “Bradshaw! What the hell?”

“Told you I’m doing it,” he chuckled in your ear. Once back on your feet, you spun in his hold and stared at him. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his cocky smirk. 

“Fine, but if you waste more of my marinade, you’re out of my kitchen.”

“Deal.” 

Thankfully, there were no further incidents, but you kept a close eye on him while slicing up a loaf of bread you’d baked two days before and let go stale for stuffing. After covering the roasting tray with tin foil, the bird went back into the fridge to rest for a few hours. “Thanks, Rooster. I guess I’ll see you later?”

“What else can I do?” 

“You don’t - ” 

“I want to help. I haven’t…” his eyes dropped to the floor as he shrugged. “I never got to do this before. My mom and I would always go to my cousin’s for Thanksgiving before she died, and it always seemed kinda fun.” 

Everyone on the squad knew that Bradley’s parents had passed when he was young. He didn’t mention them often, but you noticed he’d get quiet sometimes when people talked about their families. So his volunteering the information felt important, and glancing at the clock showed that you were still behind schedule. “Fine.”

“Yeah?” he asked, excitement flashing in his eyes. 

“Don’t look so happy - you’re doing prep work. You can peel potatoes, assemble the veggie tray, and roast the garlic. I need to work on sides and desserts.” 

And he did. Bradley followed your instructions, grimacing while peeling potatoes over the trash can until you took out a plastic bag and put it in the sink for him to do it there. You kept an eye on him as he cut the spuds into uniform pieces after explaining that they wouldn’t cook evenly for the mashed potatoes, somewhat worried that he would cut himself. Rather than deal with the onions, you delegated the task and tried not to laugh at his near-constant sniffles and swipes at his watery eyes as you diced peppers. Once you dug out the hand-me-down crystal platters, he arranged the veggies you’d prepped the night before while making pies. Dips were mixed, and cans of olives and bottles of pickles were opened and drained before being plated.

Other than bumping into one another when going for the fridge at the same time, it wasn’t too bad sharing the kitchen. The coffee pot was quickly emptied, and Bradley brewed another between shredding blocks of cheese. You sang along with your playlists, his deep voice joining on a few songs while teasing you about others. When you sang about karma being a kink, he watched your hips sway at the sink, clenching his jaw when you sang a breathy ‘oh god.’ 

He slid the roasting tray into the oven when the turkey was rested and ready to cook. “Now what?” he asked, turning to look at you. 

“Now we keep an eye on it for about four hours. Baste and re-inject it every hour or so,” you shrugged. A glance at his watch showed it would be almost 2:00 PM by the time it was ready. As though realizing it would still be hours before eating, his stomach grumbled its discontent. He blushed when you smirked. “I guess the least I can do is make my sous chef breakfast. Get the muffins and butter from the fridge for me.”  

“Did you make these?” he asked, setting the containers beside you as you heated a skillet on the stove.

“I did - family tradition is grilled muffins on Thanksgiving morning. You okay with blueberry?” At his nod, you started slicing muffins in half. Rather than giving you space, Bradley stayed at your elbow. A comfortable silence fell, broken only by sizzling butter. His gaze met yours when you glanced up at him, and a smile tugged at his mouth. 

An image of reaching up to bury your fingers in his messy curls and tugging his mouth down to meet yours flashed through your mind. Your fingers twitched with the urge to do it, eyes drifting to his mouth and lingering there for a moment too long. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you forced yourself to look away, heat creeping into your face. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when he reached up to shift a strand of hair that had fallen from your messy bun. “I’m glad you're back, Duch,” he said, voice slightly raspy. 

Forcing a laugh, you plated two muffins and handed them to him. “Everyone misses the mom friend of the group when she’s deployed.” Your eyes darted to his stomach when it growled again, just in time to see the front of his sweats twitch. Pretending you didn’t see it, you nodded to the living room. “The parade is recording if you want to watch it.” 

Bradley opened his mouth as though he would say something before taking the apparent dismissal. Alone in the kitchen, you touched your cheek and felt warm skin. With a deep breath, you grilled yourself a muffin as the sound of the broadcasters came from the living room. After topping up your coffee, you joined him. He sprawled on one end of the couch, plate balanced on a thigh as he sipped his coffee. Sitting on the opposite side, you crossed your legs and let out a soft groan. Only a couple of hours standing in the kitchen and your back was already starting to protest. “What else do you have to do this morning?” he asked after a moment.

Mentally running through your list, you sighed. “I need to do some cleaning and get into the attic. I’ll start cooking a bit closer to noon, so things just have to be warmed up.”

“What do you need from the attic?” 

“My nice china. My parents bought my sister and I sets for our hope chests when we were kids.”

“What’s a hope chest?”

“You know, stuff you’d need once you get married?” When his eyebrows shot up, you shrugged. “They weren’t really serious about it - it was more of a joke. But, every once in a while, they’d buy something for us and put it away for when we were older and say it was for our hope chest.” Taking a bite of muffin, you gave him a sad smile, “Mine’s more of a ‘hopeless’ chest,’ though. I guess they finally gave up on me getting married because they gave it to me when they sold their house and moved closer to the grandkids. I figured I’d get it out and use it instead of having it sit in the cardboard boxes it’s been in for over two decades.” Something passed over Bradley’s face but disappeared in an instant. Wanting to change the subject, you asked, “What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?”

“Nothing. It’s just another Thursday.” When you frowned, he lifted a shoulder. “A couple of times, I went to the Officer’s Club, or someone would invite me over. But most of the time, I just make myself a turkey sandwich and catch up on sleep. What about you?”

“If I’m not with my family, then this. When I first commissioned, I went to the O-Club with some friends but missed cooking and hanging out. And you know how hard it is to go home for the holidays.” He nodded even though he didn’t. Bradley never asked for the time off unless he was dating someone who insisted on it. With no family to visit, he was happy to volunteer when there was reduced manning and allow others to take leave. “So I invited a couple of people from my squad over, and that was that.” 

“It’s a lot of work.”

“It is,” you agreed. “But it’s worth it.” Bradley’s fingers curled around his plate and in his sweatpants, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath. When he shifted forward, you quickly stood and reached out your hand for his empty plate. “Do you want another one?” Shaking his head, he stood and took your plate. 

“Do you?” Swallowing hard, you shook your head and watched him walk back into the kitchen. Biting back a groan, you gave yourself a moment to collect yourself. Things had been…different… since you’d gotten home. And as much as you enjoyed these quiet moments alone with Bradley, it also stung. You’d thought the time away would help, but as soon as you were back, it was like no time had passed. He was still there, partnering for foosball in the Ready Room and coaxing you to go to the Hard Deck. Making sure that you sat next to him in briefings. Offering to look at your car when it made a noise.

Friends. That’s what friends do for each other. After all, he did the same for Nat. 

Collecting the empty coffee mugs, you followed him to the kitchen and watched as Bradley cleaned up the mess and set it in the sink. “Don’t feel like you have to stick around, Rooster. I can handle getting everything ready.” 

“I’m happy to help if you want me here. I’d just sit at my house watching TV and wait to come back if I went home.” 

Chewing the inside of your lip, you bit back a wave of want. “Don’t think this gets you out of the dress code,” you replied, forcing your voice to be cool while allowing your eyes to run the length of him. “I’m serious - slacks and button-downs, not sweats.” 

Laughing, he snapped a salute. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure I run home and change to pass your inspection.” 

The rest of the morning was a blur, punctuated by moments of stark clarity. 

Bradley’s hands on your waist as you climbed down the attic stairs. 

Biceps flexing as he carried your Christmas tree to a spare bedroom to set up tomorrow.

His elbow bumping yours as he dried the china and set it aside.  

The look of concentration on his face when he basted and injected the turkey again.

His body passing close to yours as he emptied the dishwasher and you assembled dishes.

Just after noon, he went home to get ready while you showered. People were due to arrive around 1:30 PM, and you were back on schedule with your unexpected assistant. 

Sooner than you expected, there was a knock at the door. Groaning, you capped your mascara, shimmied into your black sheath cocktail dress, and went to answer it. Bradley stood on the porch, having changed into a pair of slacks and one of his nicer Hawaiian shirts, hands in his pockets. Folded over his arm was a coat, and he grinned at you when he caught you looking at it. “Wasn’t sure if I would pass inspection without a sports coat,” he chuckled, allowing his gaze to rake over you. A flush rose on your cheeks as you reached behind yourself to pull up the dress zipper. It caught just above the top of your thong.  “You look… you’re fine.” Chuckling, he shook his head. 

“Turn around, Duch.” After a beat, you stepped back to allow him inside and did as he said.

“There’s a hook and eye at the top,” you said and inhaled sharply when you felt his fingers brush the back of your neck. The smell of his cologne enveloped you, and you bit back a moan when his hand moved to your lower back and tugged the zipper up. After a beat, you turned to face him and were surprised by how close he was. His mouth curved into a smile as he looked down at you, hand resting on your waist. 

“You look fine, too,” he said softly. Your hands itched to move to his chest. Bradley’s eyes drifted to your lips, and your breath caught as his fingers flexed around you. If asked, you would have sworn you felt the lightest pressure pulling you closer - but then someone knocked on the door. Stepping out of his hold, you smoothed your hair down and ignored the brief moment his hands hung in suspension before being shoved back into his pockets. 

“I came early to see if you needed a hand,” Phoenix said when you opened the door. In her hands was a tray, and she’d also chosen a cocktail dress for the occasion. Her normally tied-back hair was loose around her shoulders. 

“Hey,” you smiled, hoping that you weren’t blushing. Nat’s eyes shifted over your shoulders and narrowed slightly. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Same as you - seeing of Duch needed help.”

“He’s been here all morning,” you blurted out, flushing when both sets of eyes landed on you. “He’s taking care of the turkey.” 

“The guy who hates cooking is in charge of the main dish?” Nat smirked. “Probably would have been better letting Hangman fry it.”

“He’s being supervised,” you assured, glancing over your shoulder to see him rolling his eyes. Stepping back to let Nat into the house, you accidentally bumped into Bradley, who held your hips to steady you. Quickly moving away from his touch, you took the tray from her and motioned for them to follow you into the kitchen. “I haven’t had a chance to put any drinks out, but there’s some coffee left and wine chilling. I still need to make the cocktails, but there’s also soda and flavored water.” The two followed you, exchanging a look that you missed.

As soon as he entered the kitchen, Bradley tossed his coat onto the wet bar and moved to the oven, flipping on the light to check the turkey before glancing at his watch. “I need to do the last basting, right?” 

“It’s about that time,” you agreed, glancing at the clock. Digging through a drawer, you pulled out an apron and put it on, crossing the strings behind your back before tying them in a bow across your stomach. You thought you heard a murmured ‘Jesus Christ’ when you turned around to see him holding the pot holders. 

You could feel Nat watching as you worked together to remove the turkey and then return it to the oven, popping olives into her mouth and smirking. “Looks like you guys have it down,” she said. “Don’t need my help at all.”

“Nope,” Bradley said, drowning out your, “You can feel free to relax.” 

“Might as well do something since I’m here,” she shrugged, pushing off her elbows. “What can I do?” 

And so, with a third set of hands, you set them to making large batches of seasonal cocktails while you cut the bread you’d made that morning, covering it with slices of brie and dried cranberries before drizzling it with honey. A quick scroll through your schedule gave you the times to start cooking, and you preheated the second oven.

The house slowly filled as more of the squad arrived. Countertops were quickly covered with their contributions - thankfully, more than beer and wine, and only a few sides repeated -  and you mentally shifted your schedule to accommodate the additional dishes.

Mav, Penny, and Amelia were the last to arrive, with her new bartender, Georgia, in tow. Penny had asked you if she could invite her, given that the woman was new to the area and didn’t have anywhere else to spend the holiday. You’d replied with, “The more, the merrier,” just like you had for everyone else’s requests to bring a guest. 

But you regretted that sentiment when you saw how she zeroed in on Bradley, staying close to him while you worked in the kitchen. The few times you broke away to mingle - showing off your renovated home, making sure that everyone’s glasses were topped off and that they didn’t need anything - you saw her hanging off his arm, giving him a simpering smile that set your teeth on edge. And, while she’d adhered to the dress code, you weren’t exactly thrilled to see that her breasts were nearly spilling out of her low-cut dress. 

“You need anything, Duchess?” Payback asked, setting down the pitcher of spiced ginger pear and bourbon. 

“I’m good,” you replied, wiping your hands on the dish rag thrown over your shoulder and blowing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Turkey should be done in a few minutes; once it rests, we can eat.” 

“Thanks for doing this,” he said, glancing over at your full house. Aviators were sprawled across your living room and spilled out into the backyard. It was exactly what you’d hoped for when redesigning the house - plenty of space to comfortably entertain. 

“I’m happy to, Payback,” you smiled, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. “Beats having a quiet house for the holidays.” 

“Want me to get the turkey out for you?” 

“I’ve got it covered,” a voice said behind you, and you couldn’t help but wonder about Bradley's slightly sharp tone as you pulled away from the hug. 

“Got it,” Payback replied, raising an eyebrow and lifting his hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Duch.” Squaring your shoulders, you turned to face the man behind you and forced a smile. 

“I’ll clear off a spot on the stove for you to put the pan, and then we’ll let it sit for half an hour.” 

“Then it’ll be done?”

“Then you’ll have officially made your first turkey,” you nodded. When the timer went off, Bradley quickly pulled the bird from the oven and set it on the stove, closely inspecting his work. 

“Does it look right?”

“Yes, relax.”

“Did you make it?” a smokey voice asked, and you felt your shoulders rise. Glancing at Georgia, you saw Bradley’s eyes dart between you.

“He did,” you answered, smiling at the woman. 

“I just followed her directions,” he replied. 

“It looks great!” Georgia giggled. Forcing a smile, you undid the apron strings and pulled it off before excusing yourself. You could feel eyes on you as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom and shut the door, retreating to your en suite.

After washing your hands for the millionth time, you quickly applied lotion while examining your appearance in the mirror. Compared to Georgia, you looked matronly with your hair pulled back and a higher neckline. Sure, your dress was classy - somewhat tight and falling just above your knees - but not attention-grabbing. 

Not that you were trying to grab anyone’s attention.

A knock on your bedroom door startled you, and you peeked out to call, “Who is it?”

“Rooster.” Glancing back in the mirror, you saw your cheeks were slightly pink and scowled at your reflection.

“Get it together,” you hissed before turning off the light and going to open the door. And there he was, smiling down at you.

“Your phone was going off,” he said, holding up your cell. When your eyes flitted toward it, the device unlocked to show your family group chat was going off. Taking it from him, you swiped up to see videos and pictures. A smile crept onto your mouth as you clicked the first and heard your older sister’s voice.

“Guess what?” she said before tossing a card down and throwing her hands up. Cheers and laughs broke out, and you could hear your nephew complaining as your grandmother said, “Looks like Mom won!”

The camera panned to show your other nephew licking whipped cream off his pie, utterly unfazed by the family now pounding on the table in a drumroll. Catching Bradley’s interested expression, you moved so he could see the screen. Scrolling through the other videos, you watched your mom roll down a hill with the boys and your dad holding a glass of wine with your brother-in-law. The sight made your heart clench, and you sighed. Being away from family on the holidays was the worst. Thankfully, they all understood that your job didn’t always give you the flexibility to be with them.

“Looks like a fun group.”

“They are. I’m glad I get to spend Christmas with them.” He nodded, a flicker of sadness and something else in his eyes. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Mav’s already told me I’m spending it with him and Penny.”

“Sounds like fun.” You knew a complicated dynamic existed there but didn’t want to pry. His shoulder lifted, eyes drifting to your now dark phone. And that’s when you recognized the look on his face - longing. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” When he saw your unconvinced expression, he sighed. “Holidays kind of suck when you don’t have family.” 

“I’m sorry, Bradley.” Something in his expression changed when you said his name and reached out to touch his arm. His eyes darted from your hand to your face, and you quickly pulled away. But he was faster, catching your fingers and holding tightly. Your breath caught with the intensity of his gaze, and he stepped into your room. His breath was warm on your face when you refused to retreat. Lifting your chin, you saw his throat bob when he swallowed.  

“Hey, there’s a timer going off,” Bob called down the hall. 

“Be right there,” you yelled back, pushing lightly against Bradley’s chest and forcing space between you. But when you tried to shake off his hand, he held fast. “I need to go, or something will burn,” you breathed. Reluctantly, he nodded and released you. 

You’d already removed the green bean casserole and macaroni and cheese from the oven when Bradley reappeared. Unsurprisingly, Georgia glued herself to his side as he sipped his drink. Though you could feel him looking at you, you refused to meet his gaze. 

When everything was ready, you looked over your kitchen and nodded approvingly. When the guys offered to carve the turkey, you turned them all down and delegated that task to Bradley.  “He earned it,” you said, glancing at him before busying yourself with opening another bottle of wine. With Coyote and Fanboy at his elbows critiquing his cuts, you steered clear of that part of the kitchen and chatted with Penny while pulling out silverware. 

Hangman refused to let you go around the room and tell people that food was ready, instead pulling out a chair and helping you stand on it before whistling loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Dinner’s served!” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder, his arm around your hips to keep you steady. “Thank you for bringing something, and please help yourself. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone - I’m glad I get to spend it with you.” Lifting your wine glass, you took a quick sip and laughed when Hangman lifted you off the chair to set you back on the floor. 

Choosing to wait until your guests had a plate, you leaned against the wet bar and smiled tiredly, watching your hard work be devoured. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone at the table, so the group spread into the living room. You took a few pictures and sent them to your family. 

Someone stepped in front of you, pulling your attention from your phone. “You’re not gonna eat?” Bradley asked. 

“Just waiting for the line to clear,” you replied, forcing a nonchalant tone. The corner of his mouth twitched as he shook his head. 

“Come on, Duch.” His fingers curled around yours, drawing you from the counter and into the line. Grabbing one of the smaller salad plates, you let him push you in front of him, taking small amounts of almost every dish while he served himself larger portions. After topping up your wine, you walked to the living room and felt him behind you, ignoring Georgia's attempt to get his attention. He motioned for you to take the last spot on the couch and sat on the floor. “Jesus,” he moaned after taking the first bite of turkey.

“Mmmm,” you agreed. “You did a good job.”

“Who would have thought the guy who made the barracks evacuate after he burned ramen would make a good turkey,” Nat smirked. Bradley flipped her off, unable to keep the proud grin off his face. 

Dessert was eaten, and the last bottle of wine finished before 7:00 PM. The house felt quiet as it slowly emptied, and you hugged everyone goodbye. Already, tentative plans for a Christmas party formed even as you fought off a yawn. After assuring Penny that you were fine cleaning up, she left with Mav and Amelia in tow. 

Which left only Bradley. 

The sound of running water drew you back into the kitchen, and you paused in the doorway at the sight of him rinsing silverware and loading the dishwasher, a hand towel thrown over his shoulder. “I can take care of that,” you said quickly. Bradley glanced at you and shook his head.

“Relax, I’ve got it. Can the plates go in here, or do they need to be hand-washed?”

“They can go in there.” Ignoring the order, you walked around the house, picked up empty glasses and forgotten dishes, and set them by the sink. Donning your apron, you surveyed the leftovers, “Did you want any of this?”

“Yeah, I’ll take a plate.” Nodding, you started to put the food away. Thankfully, there wasn’t a lot left. Everyone had been happy to take leftovers, and you were glad you’d had the forethought to buy containers for them to keep. 

The silence was comfortable, and you were stifling yawns with the back of your hand. Between the turkey, wine, and lack of sleep the night before, you were ready to change back into comfy clothes and pass out. Without prompting, Bradley started to cut up what was left of the turkey, placing some in the containers you’d portioned for him before putting the rest in the fridge. You started the dishwasher when it was full and wiped down counters. After tossing the rest of the turkey, he took the trash out.

When the door swung shut, you took the opportunity to stretch, moaning when your back popped before bending at the waist and letting your arms dangle. As much as you enjoyed hosting, your body took a beating, being on your feet all day. You would definitely need to invest in some mats to make the kitchen floor more comfortable before your next full day of cooking. 

Even when the door opened, you felt too good stretching to stand up straight. You heard Bradley chuckle and then the sound of water running, followed by the snap of a trashbag being shaken out. Finally, you stood and threw out a hand to steady yourself when the world spun. Hands wrapped around your hips and drew you closer. “You okay, honey?” 

The term of endearment caught you off-guard and had clearly slipped out by the flush on Bradley’s cheeks. “Honey?” you echoed, quirking a brow.

“Duchess,” he corrected. 

“Rooster.” Your hands rested on his forearms, feeling the muscles flex as his fingers clenched around your hips. Taking a deep breath, you felt your chest brush his. His lips quirked into a wry smile. “What?” 

“Just waiting for something to interrupt.” At your questioning look, he chuckled. “Been trying to kiss you all day, and something always gets in the way.” 

“What?” you breathed, shock written across your face. 

“Been thinkin’ about kissing you since that night at the Hard Deck, actually.” 

“T-the Hard Deck?”

“Yup. Before you deployed.” Heat rushed to your face at the memory - or lack thereof - of your going away party. There had been one too many shots, and you had a vague recollection of Bradley driving the Bronco. Of him telling you not to throw up while he helped Nat into her apartment before taking you home. Half carrying you to bed and making sure you had water and medicine - warm hands on your face and a raspy laugh.  

“When I was drunk?”

“When you told me you liked me.” Mortified, you felt a sudden flush of heat and tried to pull away, but he held firm. “But that you didn’t think I was a relationship guy.” 

“Roo - ”

“I am. A relationship guy,” he clarified, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “For the right woman.” Your mouth was dry, unable to force out a single word. “I was gonna say something before you left, but you avoided me. And then you were gone for three months.”

“I… you messaged me.” 

“Wasn’t exactly something I wanted to say over email,” Bradley chuckled. “I like you too.” 

“What about Georgia?”

That drew him up short, and a confused look crossed his face. “The bartender?” 

“Yeah. She… I mean, she’s clearly interested. And more your type.” Groaning, he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Honey, I’m not interested in her. And she’s not… ask Nat. She’s been on my case about my” - he lifted a hand to make air quotes - “‘hoe phase’ since I got out here.” That drew a snort from you, and Bradley pulled away to smile at you bashfully. “Gimme a chance, Duch.” 

Hesitating a moment, you took another deep breath and gave the butterflies in your stomach free rein. Hands shaking, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded, unable to keep from matching his smile. 

Moving slowly, as though afraid to spook you, Bradley leaned down and brushed his nose to yours. “As much as this is doin’ things for me,” he said softly, pulling at the apron strings tied at your stomach, “I think we’re done in the kitchen tonight.” Biting your lip, you could only nod, leaning away as he tugged it over your head, balled the apron up, and tossed it behind you. With his hands back on your hips, he walked you backward and lifted you onto the counter, stepping between your knees. “This alright?” 

“Yeah,” you whispered, allowing yourself to reach out and run a hand through his curls. Bradley's eyes closed when you lightly scratched his scalp, and he swayed closer. His breath ghosted over your lips and - 

“Fucking Christ,” he groaned when his phone started to buzz. You jumped, feeling the vibration against your shin, and laughed as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. Your breath caught, feeling his lips on your throat. When he reached into his pocket and scowled down at the screen, you saw Nat’s name before he sent the call to voicemail. 

Leaving the phone on the counter, he smirked and guided your legs around his waist as your arms went around his neck. His hands cupped your ass as he lifted you. In the doorway to the kitchen, he paused long enough for you to slap the walls until the lights turned off before walking toward the couch and lowering himself onto it. Your knees dug into the cushion on either side of him, forcing the hem of your dress higher. 

From this angle, he had to look up at you. Hands migrated from your ass to thighs, callouses lightly scraping and fingertips darting under the fabric to trace shapes on your skin and drag the hem higher. Lightly, you ran your thumb along the scars on his chin before ghosting over the ones on his cheek that had always intrigued you. A moan rumbled from his throat as he followed your touch, mustache tickling the delicate skin of your wrist. Blushing, you wondered how it would feel on your inner thighs. He chuckled, kissing your cheek, “What’re you thinking that’s got you red?” 

Rather than answer, you turned and kissed him - just a light brush of your lips against his that seemed to catch him off-guard. You stared at one another for a long moment until he guided you closer. His mustache prickled, not unpleasantly but different, when he kissed you again. It was sweet and unhurried, a direct contradiction to the hardness you felt straining against his zipper. 

Pulling away, you smiled tentatively down at him, seeing the remnants of your lipstick on his mouth. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and you leaned forward to press your lips to them. “Hi,” you said softly.

“Hey.” 

“You like me?” 

“Yeah. You like me?” 

Rather than reply, you captured his lips again. “Drunk words,” you said between kisses, “are sober thoughts.” He barked a laugh before tugging you closer and licking into your mouth. 

“Shoulda said something earlier,” he chided, gripping your ass tightly. “Coulda been doing this for a long time.” 

“Blame the tequila.” The word came out as a moan when he trailed kisses down your neck, and you felt him smile. 

“Thank god for tequila,” he mumbled, nuzzling your breasts and making you grind down on him. Bradley caught your hands when your fingers trailed down his chest to tug at his shirt. “Nuh-uh, honey. Gonna take you on a couple of dates before we get to that.”

“What?” 

“No more ‘hoe phase.’” 

“Maybe just one more night?” That made him laugh again as he shook his head.

“No, Duch. Wanna do this right with you.” 

“I’ve heard the stories. I know you would.” When you rocked against him, he pinned your hand at your lower back and stilled you with a hand on your hip. He growled your name and smirked when your thighs clenched.

“Liked that, huh?” he teased. “Ms. Prim and Proper Duchess likes to be bossed around?” Heat flooded your face, and he chuckled again. Without warning, he stood, and you squeaked, trying to keep from falling. But he held you steady and set you on your feet, towering over you. “Can I stay over?” You didn’t hesitate in nodding, and his kiss was rough before he pulled away and swatted your ass. “Go get ready for bed while I lock up.” 

When you emerged from the bathroom, face cleaned and in your panties and a tank top, Bradley was lying in the middle of your bed in just his boxers. Groaning, he looked at you and shook his head. “Where are those sweats from this morning?” 

“You want me to wear sweats to bed?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe and raising an eyebrow. His hand drifted down to his hard cock, squeezing lightly. “You’ve seen me in less at the beach.”

“Trying to do this right, honey.” Rolling your eyes, you walked to your dresser and pulled on sweatpants before digging out a pair of fuzzy socks. He laughed when you tossed them at his head, setting them aside as you circled the bed to lie beside him. Quickly, he pinned you beneath him, settling in the cradle of your thighs. As he licked into your mouth, you felt his hips rolling against yours. “Still too damn sexy,” he murmured against your lips. 

“Housewife lingerie does it for you?” you teased, running your hands through his hair. Rather than answer, he looped an arm under your knee and drew it up, allowing you to feel him better. “Fuck.”

“Not tonight.” 

And, unfortunately, he was true to his word. Anytime your hands strayed to his boxers, he pinned them over your head, seemingly content to tease and kiss all night. 

Eventually, though, you could no longer keep from yawning. After setting his alarm - Bradley was on duty in the morning while you’d taken the day off - he tucked you against him, your back to his chest. His cock pressed against your ass as he kissed your shoulder, hand slipping under your shirt to brush the underside of your breast. Sighing, he murmered, “Best Thanksgiving I’ve had in a long time.” 

You couldn’t help but agree.

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

Author's Note: Do I think that Bradley has a raging domesticity kink? Possibly.

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[someprettyname]

BLLK BOYS MEETING YOUR PARENTS FOR THE FIRST TIME (HCs ver.)

characters included : Isagi Yoichi, Bachira Meguru, Shidou Ryusei, Barou Shoei, Chigiri Ryusei, Reo Mikage, Yukimiya Kenyu

a/n : has this been done already? I've been wanting to do for quite some time and now that I finally got over my laziness :] here's my vision for it y'all, I hope you enjoy :]

total word count : 1.5k (😱)

Lets start with the ultimate green flag best boy totally not because I'm whipped :D

1) He's a well cultured man who grew up in a healthy family, so that says a lot. 

2) have you seen how he used to put together chigiri's carekit, assemble the laundry, and wake nagi up? 

3) yeah. 

4) he's good at formalities and keeping a harmony in his environments. Thank his Fe aux and the fact that he's INFJ, but he KNOWS (by default) how to behave in a social setting really well. That just comes naturally to him. 

5) so of course he'd dress well, wear a kind smile and bring along gifts. 

6) your parents - no matter how "conservative" and against the idea of you having a boyfriend/love marriage they are - would be DELIGHTED. He's a good player, stable in career, good looking, rich, well behaved. Damn. You really bagged the perfect guy. They can't say anything even if they WANT to. 

7) and it's not like they can deny the way he looks at you. 

8) Any normal parent would approve of him SO QUICK. SO QUICK, MATE. SO QUICK. 

1) Sweet sweet fluff ball he is. 

2) he's goofy most of the times, but of course you matter to him so much. So he would tame himself. 

3) and everything goes smoothly from there 😙

4) no questionable outfit, well behaved and polite. He took tips from Isagi afterall :3 (and isagi has a PRETTY GOOD social awareness) 

5) extra plus points if you have younger siblings or cousins OR a pet. No explanation needed there. He'd get along with them really well :] 

6) would offer to help your mom in the kitchen (i mean, he had a single mom afterall, man knows nothing but respect for mother) and insist on it - that's where he won your mom over by the way :) <3 

7) now there can be two cases - either you have a black cat energy or are an introvert, in which case your parents would be relieved you finally found someone who can bring you out of your shell 

8) or you're an extrovert or have golden retriever energy - in which case your parents might internally sigh thinking of all the chaos you both might stir up (even if you both are pretty tamed in front of them) but they can't help adore you both >.<

1) .....

2) yeah

3) good luck. 

(on a serious note though, if you're dating him you're more likely to be a sweet, introverted girl. So your parents would be happy that you found someone who can bring you out of your shell pt 2. Though his wilder, more violent side can be.... concerning, hopefully, he tames himself up for you atleast a little bit. That'd probably be easy given how much of a calming effect you have on him :3) 

1) See. you need to understand my vision here. Barou off field is a guy you'd 100% want to date okay? 

2) he's the brother of 2 younger sister, hopefully (unlike my elder brother 🥰) he KNOWS how to treat women. Okay? 

3) I mean, did you see how he treated her mother when she was pregnant on the light novel? Chef kiss. He's definitely a green flag guy okay? 

4) if you've hung out with enough guys (which I'm pretty sure you have) you'd know how nasty a boy to boy only conversation can get. How they so disgustingly objectify women. Yeah. Uh huh. Barou's the kind of guy who'd NOT hesitate to step in and stop that bullshit whenever discussions with his male friends go in that direction. You get my vision now? 

5) he's definitely a family man who RESPECTS his family. He's a guy who you'd want to take back to your mama's (or dada's but that'd spoil my lyrics reference) house ygwim ;) 

6) if you have a traditional family, congrats. You bagged yourself THE perfect man your parents could've imagined. They are proud of you 😂❤️

7) look. I see the dad to boyfriend rapid fire round as something REALLY important (considering your dad isn't a red flag and is not trying to sabotage your happiness 🙏🏻) because ONLY MEN know how nasty other men can get and what they need to protect their daughters from. And Barou? Honey he is PASSING THAT RAPID FIRE ROUND WITH FLYING COLOURS!!!!

8) a supposedly good looking rich guy (who bought them *cough* some real expensive *cough* gift when he came over dinner) who knows what he's doing? Pass. 

9) I'm sure your parents would notice how his eyes soften in the slightest everytime he looks at you and that'd be enough to tell them how he's whipped for you (no matter how firm he's on the outside) and you've found yourself the right guy ;) 

10) (plus the sight of him walking out of his black and red sports with the bouquet of flowers was a SIGHT. TO. BEHOLD. Barou is a classy man afterall.) 

11) yay! WOOP WOOP 🎉

1) He has a older sister, that should be your first cue ;) 

2) he's handsome okay? LIKE ONE OF THE PRETTIEST, MOST HANDSOME GUY YOUR PARENTS WOULD EVER MEET. 

3) He'd enter the room and it'd be LIT UP by his beauty. He's AMAZING. Your parents would be BLOWN away. They just can't help it. (So blown away that they accidentally forget the part where they had to question his hair length xD) 

4) of course they have seen him on TV and googled him but seeing him in real life was a while different thing. Can you imagine the scene? You see my vision? 

5) imagine him walking in in a white button up, his hair neatly done and muscles straining through his shirt as he holds the rose bouquet in his hands gracefully. Plus he smells good. 

6) yeah. 

7) (even you'd be blown away, what's your parents anyways 😔) AND THEN THEY REALISE THAT HE IS A GREEN FLAG AND RICH TOO? 

8) woman. 🤨 Don't embarass them. Why aren't you both married already? 🤨

9) If it's over at yours (as opposed to a formal setting like a restaurant) that the dinner is planned, he's definitely offering help to your mom :D 

10) and of course your father would know he's a gentleman too, so he's another guy who'd get approved real quick 😌↕️

11) (he bought your mom jewellery, haircare & skincare stuff over others afterall, how can she NOT?! She's CHARMED by her son-in-law. Not to be son-in-law. In her mind you're both married already 🥰) 

12) be ready to bear with your parents getting insufferable about deciding marriage dates and who all to call in your wedding after he has left :3

1) 😂

2) 😂😂😂

3) Woman. If you are a Reo girlie, why are you even reading this? 😂

4) i mean, no offence but it's actually surprising you have doubts about him impressing your parents 😂

5) he's THE Mikage heir. The dream son-in-law of everyone in the nation 😂 

6) until and unless you are the daughter/heiress of an equally famous and rich company, your parents would be questioning how YOU bagged HIM. That says a lot 😂

7) He's a man of culture. He KNOWS how to impress people. How knows how to tilt everything in his favour AND he's charming. You see how much of a deadly combo that is when it comes to convincing your parents? 

8) even if your parents are HELLBENT on not approving him, he'd know how to convince, do you worry even a bit sweetheart. 

9) he's not here to get approved, he's here to finalise the marriage dates /j 

10) And even though he KNOWS he doesn't really need to do much to convince your parents given his place in social hierarchy and all that money, looks, power - he's humble. He RESPECTS and TREASURERS you. He'd do everything to make sure he's WINNING the heart of your parents by the end of the night ^_^ 

that there is no scope of doubt. He gotta get what he wants afterall. 

11) Dressing up well, looking and smelling good, the many gifts, behaving politely, offering help, striking up an interesting conversation and keeping up with anything thrown at him, flattering your parents - he's got it all up his sleeve. 

12) all you gotta do is sit back and watch your parents get ENCHANTED under his charming spells :3

1) Another green flag when it comes to dating. He's a Fe user too isn't he? 

2) one of my moots posted about her mother giving him the highest rating among the other blue lock guys so...yeah. That says a lot doesn't it? 

3) he'd pass the vibe check of your mom SO QUICK as if it's a light breeze :3 

4) your mom would have her eyes 👀 on him. He's a son-in-law material afterall + he definitely 100% offered to help her in the kitchen :3

5) a good looking, well behaved rich guy who respects you? Chef kiss. 

6) pass pass passsssss

7) he'd answer all the questions your dad poses at him SO WELL (and so smartly and confidently) so he's impressing your dad before the dinner ends as well 😌↕️

8) as long as your dad isn't a red flag (which many dads are unfortunately) he'd SPECIALLY love him 👍🏻 just a feeling :3

That's it for today ladies and gentlemen. Adios. 🙇🏻‍♀️

[ divider credits to @plusmio hehe you have the BEST dividers fr ]

[astrow1zar6]

Astro Observations ~ 45

Pisces suns never stop talking about being Pisces 😂 they usually are real big into astrology. Also if you’re interested in them they will most likely ask what your zodiac sign is lol.

Moon in an earth sign can be very judgmental, they are always trying to correct people (especially VIRGO & Capricorn). They prefer things to be a certain way or they get irritated.

Venus in the 12th house individuals are so cheesy in love 😂 they could be into pet names or enjoy really corny pick up lines. They just love love.

A lot of Taurus placements really drawn to the color green. They also look really good in green usually.

Cancer moons can have a big savior complex. (Especially with a Pisces mars).

Venus in Libras can stay in unhealthy/toxic relationships longer than most. They can’t stand being single for too long.

Libra risings can be kinda shallow in love (depending on their chart however). I see that they rarely date people they are actually in love with. They just really love love. (It’s actually rare they truly fall in love) they can mix infatuation with love then get bored when the honeymoon phase dies out.

Heavy Neptune energy in the chart can look like anime characters. (Especially Neptune in the 1st house).

Cancer suns with a lot of Gemini placements can be big copy cats.

12th house synastry can be super intense. They can feel like they are your soulmate but it’s super hard for them to trust each others intentions even if they are pure.

Venus in Virgos have a lot of trauma relationship wise.could’ve had partners who criticized them a lot or made them feel like their behavior was “cringey) :(

Libra sun cancer moons are probably the nicest people you will ever meet. However they can struggle with having an identity. They mold their personality based on who they are around. Big people pleasers.

Mars in the 1st house women are big crash outs. Any tiny attack at their character will have them coming for your throat. They can also get turned on by arguing or be attracted to very confrontational people.

A lot of people that I’ve met with a Taurus or Pisces Mars have big 🍑.

Capricorn, Virgo, Scorpio & Pisces risings are the most introverted rising signs

Gemini, Libra, Sagittarius & Aries are the most extroverted

A lot of Pisces suns have mothers who are Aries suns

Virgo risings can’t think straight when their space is a mess or unorganized. Mess drives them crazy.

On the other hand Aries suns have a hard time keeping their spaces/rooms clean or organized.

Leo Venuses are super generous. If they love you they have no problem buying you things you like or food. Gift giving can be a big part of their love language.

[weneeya]

shy shy shy m.list | rules

pairing. haikyuu x reader

characters. bokuto, kuroo, akaashi, kageyama

note. HAIKYUU IS SO BACK omg you can't imagine how happy i am to know that i'm going to see my boys on screen for more time!! ofc i had to write with them to celebrate <3 please request with haikyuu more and keep going for much longer!

Bokuto

Having a crush on someone as shining as Bokuto was difficult, you had to admit it. It was none of his fault, of course ; you couldn’t blame him for being such an extrovert. It was almost like a joke to have someone as introverted as you wanting to stand by his side. But how could it be different? Everything about Bokuto was absolutely amazing. 

The real problem was how oblivious the boy was. You weren’t the best at sending signals, that was for sure, but Bokuto didn’t understand any of them, not even the most obvious ones. You were starting to think that there was no way this could work ; but you would never be able to admit anything out loud, while looking right into his eyes. 

You were both walking together to the gymnasium after your class. He was as excited as ever, claiming that he couldn’t wait to show you the new tricks he learnt so you would see how great of a player he was. Your eyes were never leaving his face ; it was like you weren’t able to look away even if you wanted to. Something about him was simply dragging you in. 

Until Bokuto noticed when he turned his head to take a look at you. He tilted his head to the side, raising his eyebrows a little. “Something’s wrong?” He asked bluntly, and you swore you could feel your heart about to explode in your chest. Your face began to burn almost immediately as you looked away, stuttering a few unintelligible words. 

You had stopped in your path, and so he did a few steps ahead of you. He crossed his arms on your chest, apparently understanding your few words about being sorry or anything. “You’re great y’know. You shouldn’t look down on yourself like this.” 

It was always like this with him. Either he was the most oblivious guy on Earth, or he was saying the right words way too easily, like it was nothing for him. You looked up at him, nodding slightly with the hint of a smile, which made Bokuto’s smile come back wider than before. “It’s better! Come watch me play now!” 

And he walked back to the gym with his prideful smile while you were almost melting behind him. You didn’t know if you’d be able to confess to him one day, but if something was sure, it was that Bokuto Koutarou would be the death of you. 

Kuroo

You were well aware of how much Kuroo loved to tease you. It seemed to be his favorite game since the two of you grew closer. The thing was that you were the most introverted person he ever met, and his best friend was Kenma. It wasn’t exactly that you were introverted, but you really were so shy. It made your reactions to his teasing so adorable, he couldn’t help himself. 

It didn’t annoy you, but you knew sometimes it made you hesitate about doing some things. You were always hesitant about initiating stuff, but knowing he would tease you made you doubt a bit more. It wasn’t his fault, it simply was your brain torturing yourself. You knew that he would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. 

You were sitting in the gym while he was training with his team, waiting for him to finish. A small notebook on your knees, your eyes were focused on his movements and how good he looked while playing. It was probably the moments you saw him being the most serious and focused. 

You quickly grabbed a pen in your bag and, maybe a bit too naturally, you began to sketch some small doodles of Kuroo playing volleyball. You were so absorbed by what you were doing that you didn’t notice the team taking a break and Kuroo walking to you. 

He glanced above your shoulder, a grin appearing on his lips. “Am I looking this good?” He asked, and you jumped slightly because of the surprise. You quickly hid your notebook, turning around to look at him with your face all red. Of course, he had to see you doing this. You wanted to disappear in a hole and never appear again. 

He chuckled a bit, taking a sip of water from his bottle. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was flattered that you were taking him as a model for your drawings. With how shy you were, he was sometimes wondering about how you felt about him. Yes, he was scared you might ending up disliking him because of his teasing or else. 

He quickly pushed away those thoughts when he saw your cute expression while you were trying to explain yourself while stuttering, which made him grin a bit more. He pinched your cheek, back to teasing you while you trying to push him away while getting redder each second. Teasing you really was his favorite game.

Akaashi

Holding hands shouldn’t be so complicated, you thought to yourself. You always had troubles initiating physical touch, yes, but a simple hold shouldn’t wake you up at night thinking about it. Akaashi was a sweet guy, but you couldn’t help being scared about how he could react if you decided to hold his hand in public. Right, you were together, like in a relationship, but still! What if he didn’t want you to? You wouldn’t be able to look at yourself again if you got brushed off like this. 

It was a calm afternoon and you were walking in a peaceful street with Akaashi, simply enjoying the sun and having a small walk. He wanted to go to the library, and you didn’t refuse when he asked you to come with him. But now, all your mind could think about was how you wanted to hold his hand without being able to do anything. 

You were side by side, your eyes drifting down to his fingers from time to time as the idea stayed in your mind. In a burst of courage, your fingers slightly brushed his knuckles in a failed attempt before you moved them away without grabbing his hand. Except that your fingers didn’t have the time to run away, being caught back by Akaashi’s hand. 

He looked at you with a light smile, his hand giving yours a gentle squeeze. You felt the tip of your ears burning a little when you met his gaze, but a soft smile quickly appeared on your lips. It didn’t need any words, because Akaashi could read you like an open book and you knew his eyes well enough to understand anything without a word. 

Perhaps holding hands wasn’t so hard in the end.

Kageyama

He was bad at reading people. He never really learnt, and no matter how hard he was trying, he always ended up having some trouble understanding reactions. It was getting better, thanks to his team ; but when it came to you, Kageyama was completely lost. Sometimes he wondered if you weren’t hating him, because he swore you were avoiding him. 

The reality was that you were awfully intimidated by him, and you were scared about what your heart was telling you each time you met his eyes. He didn’t seem to be someone really mean, but he really seemed difficult to approach. At least, for someone as afraid of people as you, it seemed impossible. 

But Kageyama liked you. He knew it, he talked about it with his senpais and they all told him that it was this. So why were you running away every time he tried to talk to you alone? It was a bit frustrating, he had to admit it. 

You knew it wasn’t a solution, but what were you supposed to do? Face your feelings? No way. Except that he didn’t give you the choice. One afternoon, while you were walking to the gymnasium to give something to Hinata, you got stopped by Kageyama with his usual neutral almost mean natural face. 

“Do you hate me?” His words came out quickly, before you had the chance to leave, and they surprised you. You opened your eyes wide, shaking your head. “What? No!” You replied, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Then why are you avoiding me?” Oh. You couldn’t escape it this time. 

You tried to align a few words, stuttering something about how you felt, how worried it made you. Kageyama didn’t understand everything, but he got the main idea : you were afraid about how he was feeling. Fine, he just had to be honest then. If it meant you would stop avoiding him, it was good. 

“I like you too, so don’t avoid me,” he said and you simply looked into his eyes with your lips parted. Your face burned red, and the second after you were hiding it with your hands, saying he was an idiot. Did he do something wrong? Kageyama wasn’t sure, but at least, you were answering him now. He was happy.

thanks for reading <3