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hyunsvngs · 6 months

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𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! - stepdad!bang chan x fem!reader

wc: 10.2k

cw: chan is your mother's boyfriend and you want to fuck him, chan is 30 and reader is described to be younger & in college, lix is a menace, changbin is a moral compass, you do not care about morals, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you're home for the holidays, and your mother - who you can't stand - has a new, young, hot boyfriend. it's such a good idea trying to seduce him.. right?

a/n: it's so here <3 my first commission! i hope u all love it <3 smut warnings under the cut ofc. i also tried a new format with this fic so pls let me know what u think?!?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: dirty talk, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampies, degradation, cumplay if u squint?, humiliation if u squint?, anal fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), edging maybe briefly, sex with feelings

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You hated going home for the holidays.

You were a rich kid, to put it simply. Your mother loved to leech off the men that she was with, marrying them quickly and trying to suck as much money as she could out of them in gifts and straight up cash before they eventually clued on and left her. It had been why your father had left when you were a mere infant, but you’d always lived in luxury due to the incessant payments that he was forced to give. You’d never met him, but there was a plus side - he was paying your college tuition, where you met your best friends.

Perhaps if you thought about it a bit more you’d realise that the only reason you went to college was to get away from your mother. She pissed you off, sauntering around the house in silk kimonos with a maid trailing behind her, pausing to look in mirrors so that she could choose where her next round of botox would hit. She frustrated you beyond belief, but you still had to go home for Christmas. Annoyingly early, too, because she had a surprise for you.

Okay, well, it wasn’t a surprise. She’d FaceTimed you a week earlier, an irritatingly wrinkle-free face popping up on the screen as she sipped mulled wine and revelled in your absence. She had a new boyfriend, she said. You’d love him, she said. Your opinion matters most to me, she said. The last one you knew to be a lie. God, you hated her.

Still, you lugged your suitcase through the front door and huffed, booting the side with your foot to try and shake some of the snow off. No surprise, she hadn’t helped you in from your taxi. She hadn’t even come to get you from the airport a mere twenty minute drive away. You dropped the suitcase on the floor, giving it another kick just for good measure, and then you were trudging into the kitchen. You’d heard voices from there, so it had to be them.

“Oh, honey!” Your mother chirped upon seeing you. You couldn’t see the face of the man washing dishes behind her, his white shirt sleeves rolled up and back facing you. You didn’t care anyway. “You made it home safe, then.”

“Yeah. The taxi driver was super nice and let me call him mum,” You quipped. She furrowed her eyebrows, lips pursed.

“Okay, you’re being weird already,” She mumbled, and then shook her head, shrugging it off. She walked to the man by the sink, spinning him around by his slender waist to display him to you. “This is Chan!”

You felt silly, stood in the kitchen doorway in oversized clothes and covered in ivory snow. The man’s eyes found you, shocked by your mother’s harsh manoeuvring, and he blinked with surprise at your figure. You blinked with surprise, too.

Chan was hot. Incredibly so, actually, and he looked young. Younger than your mother, with a big nose you wanted to ride and plush lips parting as he raised one hand to wave at you, still wet with soapy dishwasher. You wanted to lick him clean. The white shirt he wore stretched across broad shoulders, and the sleeves were fit to burst around incredibly toned biceps. You allowed your gaze to wander down, eyes focusing on the thick thighs in the black dress trousers he wore.

There was no way this was real. “Okay,” You burst out laughing, eyes darting between Chan and your mother. “And, who is Chan? A friend? A colleague? He’s not your boyfriend.”

Chan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, I am. I’m your mother’s boyfriend, sweetheart.”

His voice was deep - too deep, deep enough to haunt your dreams and those late night sessions you had in your bed with your trusty vibrator. This was going to be trouble. You were going to be trouble.

“You’re shitting me,” You couldn’t get the amused smile off of your face. No fucking way. Your mother hadn’t bagged that. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be. Mum, he’s closer to my age than he is to yours.”

“I’m thirty, actually,” He mumbled, looking sheepish. Your mother stared at you in shock, jaw dropped at your brazenness.

“I rest my case,” You concluded, nodding decisively. When the two of them just continued to stare, you bristled slightly, starting to hop from one foot to the other. Awkward. “You… are you actually together?”

“Yes, honey,” Your mother confirmed, still looking shocked. You scoffed.

“Okay, I really need to go, actually,” You gushed, turning around to leave the kitchen. “I’m- I’m going to my room. Really nice to meet you, Chan, really.”

Shooting upstairs, you completely ignored your suitcase still leaking snow all over the hardwood floors and darted into your bedroom. It still looked exactly how you’d left it, band posters all over the walls and teddies littering the end of your bed. You threw yourself on top of the mattress, fingers yanking your phone out of your pocket and clicking the button on the most recent group call on FaceTime. Immediately, your college best friends picked up.

“There’s already a problem?” Felix scrunched his nose up, face way too close to the camera. Changbin was on the other side, face looking confused in the little square designated to him on your phone screen.

“I just met my mother’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, right, how did that go?” Changbin questioned, tilting his head to the side. You caught sight of your face in your own little square, flushed and appalled.

“He is thirty years of age, Changbin,” You began. Felix gasped, tiny hand moving to cover his mouth. “He is thirty years of age, and he is really fucking hot.”

“Oh my god,” Felix mumbled, muffled behind his hand. “Oh my god, you have to fuck him.”

Changbin choked on air. “She has to- No, Felix, no!”

“No, I can’t do that. It would be fucked up,” You mused. Or.. “Wait, would it even be that fucked up? He is closer to my age. I hate my mother.”

Felix’s hand fell, and he giggled before speaking in his trademark goblin voice - “Fuck him.”

“Don’t!” Changbin shrieked, his phone shaking in his hand. “I really think this is a bad idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Felix grinned, looking smug. “I’d do it.”

“There’s not a lot you wouldn’t do,” Changbin retorted. Felix stuck his tongue out at him. You, however, were silent, musing on the situation and staring at your wall. Could you do it? Changbin noticed, sighing. “Baby, please no.”

You licked your lips, nodding. You could do it. You wanted to do it - needed it, even. Those biceps were going to plague your life forever otherwise. “Operation fuck my mother’s boyfriend is a go.”

Felix screamed in delight. Changbin ended the call.

SATURDAY

It was time. Your mother was out at brunch with some friends, and you had plans to invade Chan’s personal space because you had a feeling he’d be too polite to tell you otherwise. You knew he’d set up the spare room as his own home studio, because your mother had delighted in telling you how Chan was a super successful music producer and was often tinkering away in there these days. You were going to let yourself in, try to get to know him a bit.

The knock you landed on the door was anything but subtle. Your fist rapped on the door and you heard a little hum in response, so you swung open the door, eyes landing on Chan hunched over his desk. He looked even younger like this, beanie pulled down over dark curls and headphones positioned on his head. He continued to stare at the file on his computer, head bobbing absentmindedly, so you strode up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around on his computer chair, blinking confusedly at you. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” You beamed. “Sorry about last night. I was rude. I was feeling kinda weird, y’know, with the travelling.”

“No, I completely get it,” Chan put his hands up as if to diffuse the atmosphere. You nodded, still smiling. Chan stared at you when you didn’t respond instantly, and you crossed your hands behind your back, pressing against the plaid pattern of the dress you’d chosen for today. It was all part of the plan - the tight, short dress was perfect for seduction. He looked down at your chest, before clearing his throat, reverting his gaze to your eyes. “Um… did you need something, by the way?”

You gasped, as if remembering. “Oh, yeah! I did. My mother told me you were a music producer, and I was really curious. I was wondering if you’d show me some stuff…?”

It was Chan’s turn to smile, nodding excitedly. “Of course. Here, put these on.”

He linked two fingers around his headphones and handed them to you, to which you obediently put them over your ears. He was quieter now, but you could still slightly hear him mumbling as he found a spare chair for you to sit on. Your eyes scanned the files, eventually fixating on a file titled Drive. That one had to be dirty.

“Okay, so. I have this one, it’s my most recent one, and-”

“I want to listen to that one,” You cut him off, pointing at the song. When you turned to look at him, he was biting his lip nervously, pink tinting the ends of his ears and his cheeks. “What is it, Chan?”

“You- that one is a little, uh… heh. A little inappropriate.”

Unsurprisingly, you darted over his desk to grab the computer mouse and double click on the file. Chan squealed, but you ignored him, listening to the song. You were right. It was dirty, the two singers crooning about something that was a thinly-veiled innuendo about driving. It took you a second and then you clicked. One of them was Chan. This was Chan singing, on a song about sex. God, could he get any hotter?

You slid one of the ear cups off of your ear, turning to Chan with a shit eating grin. “This is you singing? You’re really good, Chan.” You weren’t lying. He was really good, and it had you wondering why he was a producer and not singing.

“Yeah, well, it was just an experimental track. Me and my mate were just messing around,” Chan mumbled shyly, hand scratching the back of his neck. You tried to avoid staring at the way his biceps tensed in his tight t-shirt at the movement. He was still blushing, but you had to kick it up a notch.

“It is kinda inappropriate, though, isn’t it?” You chirped excitedly. Chan’s lips parted, as if he was looking for something to say. His eyes stared into your own, piercing and dark and all-consuming. “I think you’re a little dirty, Channie.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed at your use of the nickname. “That’s- you can’t say that. That’s inappropriate.”

“What?” You feigned shock-horror. Play dumb. “I can’t call you Channie? Why not?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Chan groaned, pointing an accusing finger at you. You giggled anyway, jumping up and slipping the headphones back onto his head. You made sure to trail your fingertips down his neck after doing so. He shivered noticeably. You smiled.

“That was super good, Channie, thank you.”

You didn’t miss his groan of disbelief as you bounded out of the room. You had him, and it was easier than you’d expected it to be.

SUNDAY

Something was happening. You weren’t sure what, just yet, but something was happening. Chan was acting a little weird after what happened the day before, and you’d already caught Felix and Changbin up on the nonsense plan you had.

“I think you need to accept that this is just down to you having a fat crush on him and severe daddy issues,” Changbin mused, and you gasped. He was right though. This wasn’t completely about getting back at your mother in a sick, twisted way. You wanted him.

Phase two of your plan was underway as soon as you caught sight of him on the sofa. He was watching some cheesy Christmas movie, your mother tinkering away in the kitchen - when had she ever cooked? - so it was prime seducing time. He had one of the thick throw blankets over his lap, fingers playing with the fluffy fabric absentmindedly. You hopped into the living room in your short pyjamas, frowning at Chan when you felt the goosebumps on your legs.

“Whatcha watching?” You asked, making him jump when he realised your presence. He smiled nonetheless, motioning to the seat next to him, and you took it. You perched and ensured that you left no room between you both.

“Some cheesy film. The woman’s marrying a prince, I think.”

“Sounds awful. I can’t wait to watch it,” You smiled, and Chan chuckled, relaxing on the sofa. You managed to make it five whole minutes before you were rubbing your hands up your legs, trying to create a semblance of warmth.

Chan turned to you, frowning. “Are you cold, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” You whined, pulling your legs up into your chest. “‘S cold in here, right?”

“C’mere,” He mumbled, reaching for the end of the blanket and throwing it over your lap. You hummed contentedly, inching a little closer under the guise of the cold weather. The blanket was warm. You were kind of jealous he’d been in such comfort this whole time while you’d been thinking of ways to get his cock inside your mouth.

“Thanks, Channie,” Chan only nodded, continuing to watch the film. You had a feeling he was pretending to be so focused on it, given you weren’t sure he even knew the plot before your arrival.

You squirmed on your seat, thrashing each way until you found yourself comfortable, hand splayed over Chan’s knee. He tensed under your touch.

“You’re touching me, sweetheart,” He warned, his voice low and deep. You shivered, turning to him.

“Am I?”

“You are. You’re touching my leg underneath the blanket, aren’t you?”

You hummed. “Is that okay, Chan?”

Chan turned to you, his eyes not even holding any sign of shock. He knew what game you were playing, you realised, and maybe he was playing along. He licked his lips, head back against the sofa, and then he shrugged dismissively.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

You left your hand there for the whole film.

MONDAY

The showers at home were something you’d missed. The ones in college didn’t quite cut it - not even now that you lived with Changbin and Felix in your own student home. All three of you were young adults, after all, and that came with you being a little too messy.

At home, you didn’t have to worry about mess. Your mother had cleaners employed with your dad’s money anyway. Admittedly, you realised you were being a little spoiled, so you’d learned to clean up after yourself. The showers were still better, though. Bigger, and the water pressure hit you just right.

Especially when you detached the shower head and pressed it to your clit. You felt pathetic. You’d only tried to seduce Chan for two fucking days, and there you were, legs shaking at the thought of him. Maybe it was the chase that got you feeling hot, or maybe it was the fact that you might actually be getting somewhere - you might actually be getting close to fucking him, muscles bulging as he ploughed into you.

It had you pressing the shower head harder, your spare hand coming up to pinch your nipple. You whined, bucking your hips into the water stream. The steam was all over the bathroom by now, staining the shower with condensation and making your skin feel pruned and flushed. Or did you feel flushed from the thoughts of Chan? Maybe he’d fuck you the way you liked. He must have experience, you assumed, being a few years older than you. You thought about how he’d make you feel, how he’d touch you, and how you’d feel in his arms. You thought about how you’d feel when you came, and what it would be like to be with him. You wanted to feel him so badly.

Was he as big down there as he was everywhere else? Sure, he’s not too tall, but he’s every part a man. That much was clear. Would he bend you in half, pushing you into a mating press and fuck you raw the way you liked, cumming inside and letting you call him daddy and-

You wailed, legs trembling with one last buckle before you were cumming. You felt wet, too wet even just from the shower, and you belatedly realised you’d have to wash again. Ugh. This plan needed to end, like… yesterday.

Coming out of the shower freshly washed, you wrapped a towel around your figure and checked the time on your phone. Your thumb slipped around the screen from the condensation in the bathroom, but the plan was going well. If you left the bathroom now, then hopefully Chan would be heading to bed, and he’d catch you in your towel. Ideally, he’d be so hot for you that he’d just have to have you, and then you could get the thoughts of him out of your head.

You burst out of the room in a flurry of steam and movement, almost tripping over your own feet when you noticed that it had actually fucking worked. Chan stood stock still at the other end of the hallway, his eyes fixated on the way the towel wrapped tightly around your chest, at risk of falling. You smiled, waving innocently, and he stalked towards you. He was seeing red. You could tell from the way he cornered you, crowding around you with the small advantage he had on your height.

“You need to stop this,” He mumbled, eyes looking at your mother’s bedroom door. He was playing a dangerous game. You were, too, and you both knew it. “I’m dating your mother. You need to stop this, sweetheart.”

“Stop what?” You tilted your head, acting confused. “I just had a shower.”

Chan scoffed, shaking his head. “I fucking heard you in there.”

Oh. You couldn’t hide your smirk that time. “Yeah, I missed that shower head. Why were you perving on me, Chan?”

Chan rubbed his temples. He wasn’t wearing a beanie today, only a hoodie and baggy joggers. You liked it. You could see his hair like this, dark and curly and frizzy on his head. He looked cute. Wait, what?

He took a deep breath. His eyes moved to fixate on you, tongue running over his teeth. “Why would I be perving on you?”

“Oh, don’t lie,” You crossed your arms over your chest. Chan’s eyes moved down to stare at where your tits bulged over the towel. “I bet you stood there for ages, cock hard in your cute joggers, listening to me moan in the shower. That’s a little fucked up, no? Thinking about your girlfriend’s daughter like that-”

You were cut off by him pushing you to the wall, lips slamming into yours. He bit into your mouth instantly, letting out a deep groan and hands moving to grab your ass through the towel. You let your lips part in a whimper, pushing your tongue into his mouth and running your hands through his hair. It was a filthy exchange of tongue and teeth, and by the end of it, you were gasping, grabbing him by the waist and trying to pull him closer. You pulled away, breathing heavily and your eyes still locked on each other. You both stood there, not speaking, as you both processed what you had just done. You both knew it was wrong, but you wanted it so bad.

Chan stepped back, breathing out a heavy sigh. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You watched in shock as he turned around, walking into your mother’s bedroom and leaving you there. You were wet again. This was getting ridiculous now.

In your room, Felix screamed so loud you had to turn the volume down on your phone. Changbin choked on air again.

TUESDAY

You hadn’t seen Chan all day. You presumed he was in his studio, working away on another track while your mother was in work. You were bored. Felix had been spending time with his family, and Changbin was out doing rich kid things that you could sympathise with. Thrashing around on your bed, annoyed and huffing, you decided you were just going to go and annoy Chan. It was your newly favourite pastime to get under his skin.

Stalking down the stairs to his studio, you paused when you heard a voice. Not just one voice, two voices. Was your mother there? No, no way. She never goes into that room, it’s his work room. You’d been in there though. You tried to suppress a grin at that realisation.

The other voice was a man’s. Chan had a call on speakerphone, judging by the tinny effect covering the unknown male’s voice and Chan humming every so often. Who was the other man? A colleague, or just a friend?

“It’s fucking ridiculous, mate,” Chan groaned. You could barely hear him, and you held your breath, coming closer to the closed door. “I want her so bad, and it’s so wrong. I- I kissed her last night, Minho.”

There were a few yells from the other end of the phone. “You kissed her?! Chan, you fucking animal. You want her so bad, just fuck her. She’s clearly hoping that’s the outcome here.”

You grinned. You were.

“She’s- it’s outrageous. She walks around in practically nothing, and she’s got such a tight fucking body, man. She makes my dick so fucking hard, I’ve never felt anything like it before. Even when I met her, in the kitchen, she was-”

Chan cut himself off with a sigh. ‘Minho’ hummed, waiting for him to continue.

“She’s so bratty. She’s exactly the type of girl I would’ve gone for, before I met her mother.”

“Seriously?” Minho questioned, and Chan agreed. “You have to do it.”

“Minho-”

“No, Chan. I’m serious,” Minho’s voice was firm. “If she’s fucking you up this bad, you can’t have liked her mother that much, yeah? Just do it. You know it’s going to happen anyway.”

“It’s-” Chan began. You could imagine him rubbing his temples in distress behind the door. “She’s younger than me. I don’t want her to feel as though I’m taking advantage, y’know? The ball’s in her court.”

The ball has always been in your court.

“It sounds like she wants you to take advantage, to be honest,” Minho erupted in a fit of giggles, and you found yourself almost laughing along. Minho was annoyingly right. You only hoped he could get rid of that stick up Chan’s ass and get you a good dicking down.

It meant it was time for the next phase of your plan. You assumed Chan had wanted you, embarrassingly so, but you weren’t quite sure until he’d kissed you the day before. After hearing this conversation? Well, you had to do it.

You returned to your room, scribbling a quick note on a piece of paper. If Chan found this, which he would, it meant that he’d come to your room tomorrow night and you could maybe talk about what the fuck was going on. The sexual tension was too much for you, and now you knew he felt the same. Why were you beating around the bush? You had to make something out of this.

You ignored the stuttering of breath you heard when you slid the note under his door, and returned back to your room with a cocky grin.

WEDNESDAY

Chan hadn’t mentioned the note. You didn’t think he would, but you felt disappointed nonetheless. You’d woken up in the morning, eaten breakfast with him and your mother - cringing when he kissed her on the cheek when she left for work - and you’d even done the dishes yourself, letting him slip off to do some work in the studio. It was prime time for him to mention what you’d written, and he hadn’t. It was pissing you off.

Still, good things come to those who wait. You were confident. Felix had been egging you on all day over text, Changbin had been sending random upset emojis. It was perfect.

Settling on your sheets at night, you felt a little pathetic. You’d lit a few candles, left the curtains just right on the window so that the moonlight billowed in, and Chan hadn’t arrived. Maybe he hadn’t received your note. No, there was no way - you practically heard his response through the door when he saw it slid under. He got the note. Perhaps you’d made him uncomfortable, made him withdraw from you despite all the progress you’d made. Why had you put in so much effort? You didn’t like him, not like that. Or did you? You felt ridiculous, almost like a child waiting for-

A knock on the door brought you out of your self-loathing thoughts, and you jumped up, swinging the bedroom door open. Chan immediately crowded inside of your bedroom, pressing the door shut softly. You stood there in silence, taking him in. He looked cosy, in a baggy hoodie and plaid pyjama bottoms. It was hard to believe he was dating your mother, especially when he looked so vulnerable like this - dark, curly hair still slightly wet from his shower, and his eyes blown wide with an unreadable emotion while he looked at you.

Chan sighed. “You’re really playing with fire. Do you know how this could look, me coming into your room at night? Do you know how wrong this is?”

You faltered. For the first time since meeting Chan, you felt as though he was angry at you. “I- I heard you on the phone, Channie. I thought you wanted me too.”

You watched in awe as Chan crossed your bedroom, groaning and throwing himself onto the bed. He was hard, erect in his bottoms. You blinked confusedly. He was hard just from being in here?

“I do want you,” Chan said, but it was muffled, hidden behind his hands that he had placed over his face in distress. He let them fall to his sides, staring up at the ceiling. “I want you so bad that it’s pissing me off beyond belief. I know what you’ve been doing too, trying to seduce me. It’s so pathetic it makes me feel hot, y’know?”

You giggled, following his journey across the room and settling next to him on the bed. You sat cross legged, comfortable in your long pyjamas. The candlelight flickered, casting a glow over his face, and he turned to look at you. He licked his lips, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This is ridiculous-”

“It’s ridiculous that you haven’t fucked me yet,” You responded, quick as a flash. Chan leaned up on his forearms, raising an eyebrow at you. Now was the time. You had to say it. “You know how bad I want you. I touched you up on the sofa, and you let me. You wanted me to, I think. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but-”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, and you’re not wrong,” Chan admitted. You could see the blush on his cheeks despite the dimly lit room. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I want you, too.”

Chan shot across the bed, leaning in and kissing you deeply, his hands tangling in your hair. It made you wet beyond belief that he just felt like he knew what he was doing, hands travelling down to your waist to softly press you into the sheets. His tongue swept into your mouth, pressing against yours and you whimpered, making him groan into the kiss. When his hands went up to your hair, he intertwined his fingers in the strands and pulled, making you gasp and let out a heady, hot breath. He pulled away, lips parted when he stared at you.

“You are such a horny little thing, it’s so hot,” He mumbled, lips pressing to your neck. He bit your skin sharply, making you keen and spread your legs, allowing him to position his hips between your thighs. The movement pressed his bulge into your core, and you tried not to shift and move your hips in a rhythm of pleasure. His fingers traced over your skin, and he chuckled, a low, sexy sound that made your heart race. He pulled back, leaning back on his legs and staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust. “I want to see you touch yourself.”

You paused. “What?”

“I want to know what you like. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow night. How’s that sound?” He was propositioning you, teasing you, and you were falling for it - hook, line and sinker.

You gave him a nod. Right. Touching yourself for him - that was something you could do. This was just another Wednesday for you, you loved putting on a show, especially for a man who was rock hard and obviously desperate for you. But with Chan… why did you feel so fucking nervous all of a sudden? You'd spent your whole day waiting to fuck him, and he’d taken back the power, thrown a wrench into your plans.

You leaned back on your bed. How did you sit sexily? You were stuck in your own head.

Chan moved backwards, hand moving over his clothed erection. He’d spread his legs, thick thighs parted for you to see the promising bulge between them. "Pretend I'm not even here, sweetheart," he said, eyes blown wide with lust. You almost rolled your eyes. Easier said than done, when he was sitting there with his dark curls and his thick, kissable lips and his impossibly huge bulge. “Touch yourself like you’ve done before. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow, I promise.”

Fuck it. You'd never let an attractive man break you down yet, and that wasn't going to change. You nodded timidly, hands moving to grip your breasts through your shirt. It made you sigh, and Chan responded with a noise of his own when you impatiently rucked the fabric up to above your chest. Sucking two fingers into your mouth, you whined when you traced the wet digits around your pebbled peak teasingly.

“Ah, ‘s- I’m sensitive there, Channie,” You mumbled, and he nodded as if he was making a note for it for later. You trailed your fingertips across your nipples, pinching and twisting them almost painfully just to make your hips cant up into thin air. You were too impatient to do this how you normally would, so you scratched your fingernails down your tummy and shoved a hand in your pyjama bottoms. You were met with slick, wet folds, fingers sliding around in the mess you made.

“Show me,” Chan said, eyes trained on where your hand disappeared beneath the fabric. “Show me that pussy. You’re meant to be showing me everything, remember?”

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” You huffed, and Chan shook his head in disbelief, grinning. You were shocked to see he actually listened, though, pushing his joggers down to his thighs and letting his erection spring out. It was impossibly hard, pearlescent drops accumulating on his cockhead and you licked your lips subconsciously. “I wanna-”

“No,” Chan cut you off, hand moving to wrap around his cock in a tight fist. He was long, thick and heavy between his thighs and you felt your pussy clench sadly around nothing. “Show me your pussy. I’m not asking again, let me take a look at it.”

You whined, pushing your pyjama bottoms down to reveal your slick core. Your clit was swollen, throbbing with need just from a few kisses and Chan’s general presence, and you could feel a rivulet of wetness sliding down between your lips. Chan groaned in approval, hand quickening on his cock just slightly.

“Spread it, show me your hole,” Chan said, and you moved your thighs further apart for him. Reaching down with two fingers, you moved them into a v-shape and spread your folds for him. Your hole quivered under the inspection, leaking more wetness and Chan’s eyes were hyper fixated on it. “Oh, baby. That looks tight. Has no one ever fucked that little pussy right, huh? Tell me.”

“N-No,” You shook your head, thighs quivering when you finally let two fingers rub over your clit. You started with a blistering pace immediately, making your toes curl into the sheets and your back arch upwards. “No, I- it’s only boys from college, I don’t-”

“Ah, I see. You need someone older, yeah? More experienced?” Chan questioned, his breath coming out heavy with every tightly fisted movement on his cock. You whined, nodding, and then you were breaching your hole with two fingers immediately. The stretch made you groan, head falling back against the pillow. “Is that why you tried to seduce me, yeah? Wanted to have my cock stretching you out just right, wanted to call me daddy while I made you cry?”

God, he’d got it. He was right on the mark. “Yes, y-yes, I- I wanted to, oh, I wanted to call you daddy, and- and feel you inside me, and oh, Channie, please-” You cut yourself off with a moan, perhaps too loud as you curled your fingertips up against your g-spot. Chan threw his head back, letting out a grunt as he pinched his cockhead almost painfully.

“Say it then, baby. What’s stopping you?” He polished the head of his cock, moaning before he took it into his tight grip again. His precum served as lubrication, his hand now making wet slick sounds on his thick length. You gasped when he moved his free hand to his balls, rubbing calloused fingertips over them and letting out his own gasp. “Beg me for my cock. I know you want it, look at you. Fuckin’ desperate, yeah? Beg daddy for his big cock.”

“Oh, daddy,” You whined, moving your free hand to rub over your clit. Everything was so wet, sliding around your pussy and you were honestly surprised you could feel anything - but it felt so fucking good, having him watch you like this, learning what you liked so he could replicate it. “Fuckin’- daddy, daddy, please, can I have it? Been good, doin’ what you asked, I- hnnng, daddy, oh my god-”

“No,” He smiled, a cocky grin while he rubbed one hand over his cock and the other over his heavy balls. “No, baby. Not tonight. Make yourself cum tonight, and daddy will help you tomorrow.”

“I- need more, need more, I-'' Chan surged over the bed, leaning over your figure to press his lips against yours. His tongue dominated your mouth again, and you could feel his closed fist hitting your stomach as he worked himself to his orgasm. The sensation had you whining against his plush lips, fingers thrusting quicker into your pussy and your other hand sliding around your clit messily. When he pulled away, lips digging into your bottom lip teasingly, his lips were quick to move to your neck to suck some dark purple marks into the skin. You felt yourself trembling, your body tense as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your fingers stroked your walls faster, pussy fluttering around your digits in delight, and your mouth opened in a gasp as you felt your body tense and tremble with pleasure. “I’m g’na- g’na cum, gonna cum, please, can I? Can I, daddy? Can I cum for you, please?”

“Yeah, baby,” He huffed, eyes rolling back into his head. He was practically drooling onto your skin, lips parted against your neck as you whined and thrashed on your bedsheets. “Cum for me. Been good for daddy, haven’t you? You can cum, baby, c’mon. Show me how pretty you are when you cum.”

You fell apart around your own fingers, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave. Your thighs tensed with your orgasm, your pussy clenching down impossibly tighter around your hand and flooding down to your knuckles with your cum. You begged and pleaded, your voice a barely audible babble as your body shook with the sensation.

Finally, when you’d just felt like you were coming down, Chan pulled your wrist away from your pussy. The movement left you empty, your walls still clenching down except now it was around nothing, and you whined, bottom lip quivering in need.

“Hands off,” He sighed, hand slowing down on his cock. He was trying to last longer for something - you weren’t sure what, but you let your other hand drop from your clit obediently. “Daddy’s gonna cum on this wet little hole, baby, okay? You gonna let me cum here, mark you as mine?”

“Yes,” You moaned, nodding. You couldn’t think of anything better, actually. “‘M yours, I’m yours, daddy, gimme.”

“Dirty thing, perfect little girl,” He grunted, and then he was positioning his cockhead at your hole. With a few more movements, increasing in speed, you watched as his face screwed up in pleasure. His hips bucked, and with a final thrust, he came. You felt his cum drip down your hole as he groaned through his orgasm, thick white cum plastering your pussy. It was definitely the sexiest thing you’d experienced, but you still felt a little disappointed - why couldn’t he have just done it inside you?

“Wan’it,” You whined, pulling your legs back. Chan chuckled upon seeing the pout on your lips. “Why couldn’t you- in me, wanted it in me, daddy.”

“Greedy bitch,” He mused, and then he was delving down to your core. Your mind went blank when his tongue licked fat stripes up your folds, collecting all of his cum and your wetness in his mouth. You briefly thought you could cum from this, very quickly judging by the way he knew what he was doing, but he simply leaned over you and grabbed your jaw.

Oh. You let your lips part, tongue lolling out of your mouth obediently, and he spat the mixture of your cum into your mouth. You felt him lick into your mouth again, groaning at the taste of your pussy and his load. He smiled against your lips and pulled away, your eyes wide as you tried to process what had just happened.

Chan’s lips curved in satisfaction at your state, your chest still heaving with a blotchy rash that bore the truth of what you’d been up to. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and then he was standing up and leaving the room, bottoms barely pulled over his hips. You laid there, feeling an intense mix of pleasure and confusion.

What the fuck just happened?

THURSDAY

You hadn’t even processed what had happened last night. In all honesty, you’d run out of the house in the morning under the premise of a coffee date with friends you didn’t even have. You just sat in the cafe on call with Changbin and Felix and screamed way too loudly for a public area. The whole cafe knew of your predicament by the end of it.

Upon your return home, you’d beelined to your room and kicked the door shut as quietly as you could. Unfortunately, your foot slipped on the floor and you’d ended up face down with a groan.

Turning over onto your back, you huffed at the offending item that had caused your decline to the ground. A piece of paper met your eyes, neatly folded and written on with what looked like black Sharpie when you’d finally unravelled it.

Three words. Three words that changed your life and let you know that what occurred the night before had really happened. No, not ‘I love you’ - it was simple, a scrawled ‘your room, tonight’. It did happen. You touched yourself in front of Chan, and he was planning on coming back to your room to continue what you’d discussed.

You wanted to squeal and kick your feet, but beneath it all, you felt panicked. This plan had gone too far, and you’d perhaps started to think about spending time with your mother’s boyfriend - actual time, not just sexually charged meetings. It hurt a little bit, a pang in your chest when you remembered that what was happening really was just sexual. Your little arrangement being anything else just wasn’t fathomable.

Chan was interesting. He was a fucking music producer, for god’s sake. That was just straight up cool. That, and he was older than you - you did have raging daddy issues like your friends had said, after all. His friend had sounded funny on the phone, which meant he had to be funny, too.

All things serious, you didn’t really know much about him, but you wanted to know. Felix had encouraged you to find out, and you felt like you owed it to him - or yourself, you weren’t sure.

The knock on your door once the evening fell brought you out of your reverie. Chan didn’t wait for a response, swinging your bedroom door open and walking straight in as if he owned the house. You huffed at his demeanour, yet your eyes were still fixated on the way he walked over to your bed with intent. You threw your phone to the side. Felix would have to wait for your half-typed text message.

“Back again so soon?” You quipped, and he raised an eyebrow. He was only in grey joggers, the thin material highlighting his thick dick imprint between his legs. The fabric hung low, showing off the body that you knew he worked so hard for. His chest was honey toned, yet covered in light, sparse freckles - you wanted to make yourself acquainted with every single one. You felt a little overdressed in just an oversized t-shirt and shorts.

Seeing the frustrated expression on your face, Chan’s own face fell. “Do you not want me here?” He said, voice no more than a whisper. “I can go, if you don’t want to see me tonight. I just thought-”

“I do,” You nodded, finally raising yourself from your position lying down to sitting up cross legged. Chan laid on the bed in front of you, one arm propping his head up. He gazed at you for a few moments, and you could see the relief in his eyes at your words. “I do want to see you tonight. I want to see you like… a lot. Don’t you think it’s weird though? I’m your girlfriend’s daughter, Chan, and we’ve kissed and- and done other stuff, and-”

He scooted over so that he was next to you, and you leaned into him subconsciously. He pulled you in with his arm around your shoulders, broad and muscled. You felt content, comfortable and most of all safe. It was a feeling you’d never felt before.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Chan hummed, his chest vibrating beneath where you’d landed when he pulled you in. He chuckled, then, his hand moving to your hair comfortingly. “Okay, maybe it is a little weird. I’m just very interested in you. I know you heard me on the phone to Minho, and yes, you are my type - I want to know more about you. Like, even beneath the sexually charged tension, heh.”

Oh. You licked your lips, eyes fixated on a random spot in your wall. “You do?”

He nodded. “I do.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You raised your head, surging over Chan’s body to press a kiss to his lips. His hair was soft when you ran your hands through it, despite random curls getting caught in your nails and causing him to groan at the pain flooding through his scalp. His hands went to your waist, licking into your mouth while he effortlessly pulled you on top of him. The show of strength had you whimpering into the kiss, hands moving down to his jaw. It clenched and unclenched while he had full control over your mouth despite you being on top.

You pulled away with a wet sigh, moving downwards to kiss at his neck. He groaned underneath his breath at the sensation of your lips on his skin. Your bed squeaked awkwardly as you moved down it, too quick for the old springs to handle. It felt naughty, kissing him like this in your childhood room - it felt even dirtier than the night before had, and you hadn’t done anything yet.

“I need you, Chan,” You whispered, nipping at his collarbone. “Need you. Please.”

He gasped as he felt your tongue trace the outline of his collarbone. He flung one bicep over his dark eyes with a deep sigh, allowing you to kiss and bite all over his skin. He looked like he was trying to control himself. You didn’t want him to.

Your hips started to grind against him, and you placed your palms flat on his chest. Both of Chan’s hands moved back to your hips with a surprised noise, but he didn’t stop you. His dick was hardening in his joggers, and it was providing the best clothed friction to your aching, needy clit below your pyjama shorts. You saw how big it was before, yet the length of it still shocked you when you slid your clothed core up and down the shaft.

“Daddy,” You whined, hips starting to buck frantically. You were sure that you had never felt this needy in your life. “Daddy, daddy, I want you so bad. You turn me on so bad, make me feel so hot, please-”

“Baby,” Chan groaned, his head falling back against your pillows. The soft pink bed sheets juxtaposed completely with what you were doing, and juxtaposed completely with him - Chan, the muscled man with dark hair who wore black and grey clothes constantly. It was as if he was corrupting you, and he was in a sense, being so much older. “Baby, c’mere, come and lay on the bed. Let daddy eat you out, yeah?”

“No,” You shook your head, hips still moving on his erection. Chan’s chest had started to accumulate a thin layer of dewy sweat, slick on his skin and making you want to lick it off. “I want your cock. I don’t wanna wait, I don’t wanna wait, please, just put it in, I’m wet enough, I promise.”

He knew you were babbling, incoherent in your haze of lust, but he still entertained you enough anyway. You spread your legs wider when his hand met your thigh, and then he was pushing two fingers beneath your shorts. He was met with your slick folds, and you gasped at feeling the touch of his fingertips, calloused from years of working with music.

“Oh, fucking hell. Dirty girl, dirty fuckin’ girl,” Chan moaned, his eyes almost rolling back into his head. “This pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, baby. All we did was kiss. Are you that much of a slut for me? Are you that much of a slut for your mother’s boyfriend? That’s filthy.”

“Yes!” You wailed, nodding. You reached down, canting your hips backwards a little bit so you could spread your thighs wider before hooking your fingers in your shorts and pulling them to the side. The movement revealed your pussy, clit swollen at the top of soaking wet folds, covering your drippy hole. “I wan’it so bad, so bad, so bad, please, please. Just push it in, make it hurt, I don’t care-”

Chan shoved the fingers of his spare hand between your parted lips, effectively shutting you up. “Shut up. You’ve got to prove to me you deserve it, baby.”

With those words, he was pushing a finger past your entrance. It breached your hole easily, the digit sliding through your wetness and curving up past your g-spot. Chan shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and shock, and then he was pulling his finger out. With a quick movement, he’d yanked his joggers down and let his cock spring out. The coarse hair was trimmed above his long, thick shaft and you couldn’t help but imagine the type of friction that would give your clit - you couldn’t wait.

“You were right. That slutty pussy is wet enough,” He mused, pulling your hips over his bare cock. Your pyjama shorts were slightly in the way, and you pulled them aside even more, letting your folds leave wetness over his shaft. “Lower yourself on it. Stretch yourself out. Slowly.”

You did as he asked, lowering your body onto his length. You felt the stretch immediately. You moaned, loud and ringing off of your walls. You didn’t give a shit if your mother heard. Fuck, you needed this. You wanted to bounce all over his cock until there was nothing left and your hole could do nothing but remember the tight fit. Trying to sit down quicker, Chan grabbed your hips, stopping you while only half his length was in you.

“You're gonna hurt yourself like that, sweetheart. That hole is so tight around me.”

“Please, daddy,” Your head fell into the nape of his neck. You wriggled yourself in his tight hold, trying to get more of his length in your pussy. He shook his head against you, chuckling.

“You want it? Fine, but don't fucking cry to me when it hurts,” Chan said, letting go of your ass. You realised he'd been holding you up, and within a millisecond you'd slammed down onto him. You wanted to scream, the stretch more than you could take. He laughed again, raising his eyebrows at you mockingly. “Too big?”

"N-No, perfect," You retorted. He moaned, spreading his legs and placing his feet flat on the mattress. More. More. Fucking more. You began to raise on him, expecting to ride that perfect cock, but he started to thrust up into you at an unrelenting place straight away, his balls slapping against your ass. You moaned incoherently, almost babbling, hands digging into his toned biceps. He leaned up to nip at your neck, and then he was pulling your t-shirt off of your body.

“No fucking bra?” Chan laughed in disbelief. His mouth went straight to your nipples, biting and sucking on the hard peaks. You jostled on his lap with his thrusts. You wanted to rub your clit, but you felt like he probably wouldn't let you. “Knew you were fucking filthy, sweetheart. You didn't even care about me going raw, did you? You want my load in that dirty hole. And now I find out these pretty tits were only one layer away from me…”

His voice trailed off. You whined, leaning down to try and kiss him again. He shoved his two fingers back in your mouth, making you suck on them. His bruising sucks caused your nipples to hurt, and you fucking loved it. You knew he was marking you up and you'd just have to deal with it.

You tried to start riding him. He didn't let you, manhandling you off of his cock.

“Daddy!” You whined in protest. Chan chuckled. He lifted you and manhandled you so your back was facing him on your bed, and you immediately repositioned yourself so you were face down, ass up. He reentered you in one swift thrust, causing you to jolt in surprise.

“Fucking tight pussy,” He groaned, thrusting into you with the same vigor as before. You almost screamed, but managed to just moan incoherently. The mattress creaked, the sound of old springs ringing around the room. “Fucking dirty hole. Listen to that, sweetheart. Can you hear how wet your cunt is for daddy's cock? For your mother’s boyfriend’s cock?”

You tried to stop whining and moaning to hear what he was pointing out to you, hearing wet slaps. Your cheeks burned with humiliation, fingernails digging into the mattress. You knew you were dripping for a fact now. You could hear it, you could hear everything, his balls slapping against your clit as well as the wet noise of his heavy cock reentering you.

You threw your ass back against him, trying to get the tip to hit that special spot inside of you.

“I think that asshole needs me too, sweetheart,” Chan laughed mirthlessly, his hands resting firmly on your ass, encouraging your bouncing. You moaned in response, clenching your pussy tight. He was going to ruin you for everyone. You'd have to just keep coming back for more. “You want daddy's finger in there? You want me to finger your asshole?”

Oh, yes. “Please, daddy, need to be full,” You said, wiggling your hips against him. You vaguely registered him reaching around you and making you suck on the fingers that had previously been in your mouth. He was going to fill both of your holes, and he moaned loudly at the sight of you sucking his fingers. There was no way that the whole house hadn’t heard you both by now. You hoped they were sleeping.

You sighed in ecstasy, feeling the fingers begin to move inside your ass. His thrusting was now hitting your g-spot in your pussy, given the added pressure from being full in both holes. You felt the orgasm finally begin to build. You liked the way he wasn't rushing you to cum, not like those younger college boys. He was taking care of you and just having good fucking sex. “Feels so fucking good, daddy. Feels so good.”

You were now semi-incoherent, your words all joining together in one long moan. Chan loved it, judging by his moans. His cock was pulsing inside you. You wondered if he was close. You wanted him to fill you up to the point where it was dripping out of you.

He pulled out of you again, grabbing your leg with one strong hand and flipping you onto your back. You were out of breath from the exertion, despite him doing all the work, and he looked fully composed save for the thin sheen of sweat on his body.

“Feels good, baby?” He asked, looming above you. You squirmed feeling your sweaty back rubbing against the blanket uncomfortably, but you nodded anyway. You wanted to please him. He looked down at your writhing body, letting out another groan. “So fucking sexy. You don’t know how much you fucking killed me, teasing me like that. Touch that pussy for me again, show me.”

He started pumping his shaft quickly, still staring down at you. You reached down with one hand and immediately pressed two fingers against your entrance, collecting the slick gathering outside before diving straight in. You curled your fingers against that spot inside of you, whining out. It wasn't enough. Not after having that fat cock in you. He definitely had ruined you for everyone else, including yourself. Nothing was ever going to feel the same again.

“Mmm. Looks so wet, sweetheart. Daddy wants a taste, is that okay?” Chan questioned, moving back onto his knees. You pulled your fingers out and tried not to cry at the loss.

“Please, daddy. Wanna cum in your mouth,” You slurred out, pushing his head towards you. He moaned into your pussy, taking his fat tongue and licking one wet stripe up your slit. He pulled your pussy back, exposing that throbbing clit to him, and placed one lick directly onto your button. "Fuck, daddy, feels so good! Suck it, please, suck it. I - please - need to cum so bad!"

“Need to cum, huh, sweetheart? I'll make your little pussy throb for me and then I'm putting my cock right back in that tight hole, where it belongs,” He spoke. He thrust two fingers into your slit, much thicker and longer than yours. You spread your legs, holding them up against your chest. You literally almost purred when he started moving his fingers, curling them up into that spot and sucking on your clit whilst he did so. It wasn't going to take long. The man was clearly amazing at every part of sex.

You focused on the feeling of his wet tongue rubbing up against your clit and writhed, feeling closer and closer to the edge. He knew what he was fucking doing. Your thighs started to shake, taking everything in you not to just let them go from your hold and clutch around Chan’s head. You wanted him to permanently live between your thighs. Your eyes clenched shut, a deep sigh leaving you.

“Fuck, I'm g’na cum,” You mumbled out, chest heaving and flushed a shade of crimson. Chan pulled away, causing you to whine. You pouted, reaching up to grab his shoulders. "No, no! You said I could. You said you would help me.”

“What I said was that I'd make it throb for you and then I'm sliding back right in here, sweetheart. Be good for daddy, you'll get to cum,” He positioned his length at your core again, sliding right back into home. You both moaned, and he was fucking you in a mating press this time, almost as if you were a couple in love. You wished you were, and realised this was definitely your favourite position so far. The man fucked like an animal and now he was fucking you like he was going to breed you, and you loved it. He reached down with one hand to rub your clit rapidly, trying to bring you to the edge. “This is my fucking pussy. My favourite fucking pussy, my only girl, the only pussy for me, okay?”

“Fuck!” You cried of overstimulation, hands still wrapped around your legs. “G’na... getting close again, gonna-”

“Cum then, sweetheart, flood my cock. Make a mess for me, come on, do it," Chris encouraged, breathing heavily next to your ear. His eyes were focused on where he was entering you over and over again, taking note of the white ring of slick that had formed around the base of his cock, soaking the hair that rested there. You scrunched your eyes shut, feeling overwhelmed with bliss. “That's it. That's my good girl.”

White hot ecstasy overtook your body. You wanted to squirm, but with the pressure of the muscular man on top of your body, you had nowhere to go. You focused on the feeling of his slick chest rubbing against your sensitive nipples, whining and moaning as the orgasm coursed through your body and made it feel like you were being electrocuted.

“Fucking clenching on my cock, shit,” Chan groaned, his hand falling away from your clit once your breathing had began to calm slightly. His hands went down to grab your hips, and before you knew it, he was lifting your hips up and fucking you senseless, treating you like a toy. “W-Wanted to be soft with you for our first time, sweetheart. I'm not normally like this, not at all, but this fucking pussy is driving me insane, fuck... I need to fill you up. Will you let daddy fill that pussy with my cum, sweetheart? Let me breed you, make you mine?”

You nodded quickly, unable to speak at this point. Your hole felt raw, sensitive and fucked open, but you needed his cum in you. You thought you might die if you didn't get it soon. His tip jabbed into your g spot incessantly, almost causing you to cum again, but you subconsciously knew you couldn't take another orgasm at the same level as the previous one. You might die.

“Fucking- g’na breed you, sweetheart. Gonna make you mine. G-Gonna give you a baby, g’na fill you up, fuck!”

With an animalistic growl, Chan’s head dropped to your neck, biting into the skin there and definitely leaving a mark. You felt his hips still and cum flooded out of the tip of his length, flooding your hole with a new sense of wetness. You sighed with content and laid there until Chan’s breathing calmed, his body weight fully on top of you and yet not uncomfortable.

“I have to be honest about something,” Chan sighed. You looked up at him from your position on his chest, and he looked down at you with an apprehensive look. He looked a lot shyer than he did moments before, when he was fucking you senseless and calling you a slut - he was blushing now, embarrassed. You were sure that’s what you liked about him. “You’re- it’s like you were made for me. I don’t know what the fuck to do, heh. I’m falling for you, I think.”

You blinked, leaning up to rest inches away from his face. Got him. You’d got him. “Well, that’s okay, Chan. You’re closer to my age anyway, right?”

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bi-writes · 1 month

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hmm im thinking about it being the first night simon stays over, and you show him how to take off his makeup. (18+)

he looks tired. you stand in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher with the remnants from dinner. you don't want to spend time washing the full sink, you just want to sit next to him and soak up the warmth of him--you had missed him, and all you want to do is curl up next to him and nuzzle your face into his mask and finally get him into your bed, under your covers.

he's never slept over. he's always been adamant about that. always lacing up his boots after the movie, kissing you through the mask after a warm date, tucking you in when you get too tipsy and leaving water by the bedside table. he always goes, and even if he comes back in the morning, he always makes sure he does not stay over.

even when he fucked you the first time--he waited until you fell asleep, and then he left, and he came back in the morning with breakfast, but you knew he went home because he smelled fresh and he was wearing different clothes.

but tonight, he's staying. because you finally asked, and how could he say no to those pretty eyes? to that sweet little pout?

the distance, he was always trying to maintain it. but it was useless. you are not temporary. there is no end date. he can't keep letting you linger at arm's length.

you're soft and sweet, and your cunt is the same, and when he isn't thinking about being cock-deep in you, he's dreaming of your soft voice and your pretty smile and the tender way you kiss him and the way you hug. the all-encompassing, enveloping way you put him at ease. his rage builds, and one look at you, and it is gone.

as if it never mattered in the first place. as if it was never there at all.

so he agreed to stay. his bag sits heavy in your bedroom, clean clothes inside, and his toothbrush is in the same holder as yours in the bathroom. he lingered on it when he had put it there; two versus one. he never wants to see his toothbrush alone ever again.

he blinks awake when he feels a warm hand on his shoulder. he's still wearing his army fatigues, black cargo pants and his windbreaker, the skull balaclava tucked under his long sleeve to hide any skin. his holsters are still around his thighs, but they are empty, and his vest is on the floor by the door, where his boots are. he feels your warmth even through the layers, and he leans towards it without thinking.

you kiss the side of his head, cupping under his chin gently.

"tired, simon?" you coo softly. "'s alright. we should get you in bed. been a long day."

"mm...olright," he murmurs, and you look up at him as he stands, and he towers over you, making you feel small, but safe. he's a bear, and he's yours, and he's staying.

you take his hand gently, and he follows you. you stand side-by-side in the bathroom, and you smile at him in the mirror as he unzips his windbreaker, revealing the hoodie underneath. his eyes meet yours, and he winks, and you smile wider, especially when his hand falls, smacking your ass nice and firm.

"wot, luv? somethin' funny, yeah?"

you shake your head and laugh, and then you reach for the headband in the drawer, slipping it over you as you prepare to wash your face. you slip a few products out onto the counter, and your mouth goes dry when simon grips his mask from the back of his head and pulls it completely off.

he is so handsome. his nose is crooked; he's broken it a few times, that's for sure. there's a scar deep across his face, jagged over his lips, and you've felt it when you've kissed him before, but it's jarring to see it. there's a few more across his other cheek, along his forehead, and you break out into nervous giggles as you meet his dark eyes. the eye-black around his eyes has shifted with the fabric of the mask and with sweat, but he still looks hot.

really hot.

you swallow hard and turn the sink on, wetting your hands. simon reaches to do the same, and you watch as he brings his wet hands up and starts to wash his face. immediately, the eye-black just smears, and he has to move more over the sink as he continues to wash.

"simon?"

"'s olright. just takes a few minutes for it to come off."

you smile, "here, i...let me help."

he turns the water off, wiping his face on his sleeve, and you giggle when he looks into the mirror and realizes all he's done is smear the black across his cheeks. he laughs with you, deep and gravelly, and you reach into the drawer and pull out two bracelets made of absorbent fabric.

"give me your hands," you say softly, and he does, and you slip the bracelets over his wrists. "keeps the water from running down your arms."

"fuckin' annoyin' when it does that," he grumbles, and you smile. you reach across the counter, opening a small jar.

"it's called double cleansing. you take this balm--" you get a dime-sized amount onto your finger and you put it into his hand, "--and then you rub it into your hands until it becomes...kinda oily. it'll take off all of...that--" you motion to the black streaks along his face.

"oi, are y'on the piss?" he laughs, "it'll take it oll'off?"

you giggle and nod, "yeah. try it."

he rubs his hands together, warming up the balm, and then he reaches up and massages it into his face. you watch, biting back more laughs, when he realizes how much easier the eye-black moves, coming off onto his hands. when he washes it off, it's nearly gone, and then you give him a dollop of face wash to help rinse the rest away. he dries his face on a towel, grinning in the mirror, and you hug his arm gently as he takes the bracelets off.

your eyes meet again in the mirror, and he smooths his hands down your waist, moving you in front of him, leaning over your and putting his face into your neck. he warms the skin there with soft kisses, and you laugh, buzzing with delight.

"you're so beautiful, luv," he growls in your ear, and you close your eyes.

"you're...y-you're beautiful, too, simon."

"yeah? come off it."

never. you'll never come off whatever high you're on now. you reach up and hold onto him, as much as you can grab, and you close your eyes as you kiss, his lips on yours, something hot in your chest and something soft in your insides.

you hold onto him tighter. you will not let go.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts

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reasonsforhope · 8 months

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"Namibia is the driest country in Sub-Saharan Africa, and home to two of the world’s most ancient deserts, the Kalahari and the Namib. The capital, Windhoek, is sandwiched between them, 400 miles away from the nearest perennial river and more than 300 miles away from the coast. Water is in short supply.

It’s hard to imagine life thriving in Windhoek, yet 477,000 people call it home, and 99 per cent of them have access to drinking water thanks to technology pioneered 55 years ago on the outskirts of the city. Now, some of the world’s biggest cities are embracing this technology as they adapt to the harshest impacts of climate change. But Namibia leads the way.

How did this come about? In the 1950s, Windhoek’s natural resources struggled to cope with a rapidly growing population, and severe water shortages gripped the city. But disaster forced innovation, and in 1968 the Goreangab Water Reclamation Plant in Windhoek became the first place in the world to produce drinking water directly from sewage, a process known as direct potable reuse (DPR).

That may sound revolting, but it’s completely safe. Dr Lucas van Vuuren, who was among those who pioneered Windhoek’s reclamation system, once said that “water should not be judged by its history, but by its quality”. And DPR ensures quality.

This is done using a continuous multi-barrier treatment devised in Windhoek during eight years of pilot studies in the 1960s. This process – which has been upgraded four times since 1968 – eliminates pollutants and safeguards against pathogens by harnessing bacteria to digest the human waste and remove it from the water. This partly mimics what happens when water is recycled in nature, but Windhoek does it all in under 24 hours...

Pictured: These ultrafiltration membranes help to remove bacteria, viruses and pathogens. Image: Margaret Courtney-Clarke

“We know that we have antibiotics in the water, preservatives from cosmetics, anti-corrosion prevention chemicals from the dishwasher,” Honer explains. “We find them and we remove them.”

Honer adds that online instruments monitor the water continuously, and staff ensure that only drinking water that meets World Health Organisation (WHO) guidelines is sent to homes. If any inconsistencies are detected, the plant goes into recycle mode and distribution is halted until correct values are restored.

“The most important rule is, and was, and always will be ‘safety first’,” says Honer. The facility has never been linked to an outbreak of waterborne disease, and now produces up to 5.5m gallons of drinking water every day – up to 35 per cent of the city’s consumption.

Namibians couldn’t survive without it, and as water shortages grip the planet, Windhoek’s insights and experience are more important than ever.

Interest from superpowers across the globe

In recent years, delegations from the US, France, Germany, India, Australia, Singapore, and the United Arab Emirates have visited Windhoek seeking solutions to water shortages in their own countries.

Megadrought conditions have gripped the US since 2001, and the Colorado River – which provides 40 million people with drinking water – has been running at just 50 per cent of its traditional flow. As a result, several states including Texas, California, Arizona and Colorado are beginning to embrace DPR.

Troy Walker is a water reuse practice leader at Hazen and Sawyer, an environmental engineering firm helping Arizona to develop its DPR regulations. He visited Windhoek last year. “It was about being able to see the success of their system, and then looking at some of the technical details and how that might look in a US facility or an Australian facility,” he said. “[Windhoek] has helped drive a lot of discussion in industry. [Innovation] doesn’t all have to come out of California or Texas.”

Pictured: The internal pipes and workings of Namibia's DPR plant. As water becomes scarcer in some parts, countries are looking to DPR for solutions. Image: Margaret Courtney-Clarke

Namibia has also helped overcome the biggest obstacle to DPR – public acceptance. Disgust is a powerful emotion, and sensationalist ‘toilet to tap’ headlines have dismantled support for water reuse projects in the past. Unfortunately, DPR’s biggest strength is also its biggest weakness, as the speed at which water can re-enter the system makes it especially vulnerable to prejudice, causing regulators to hesitate. “Technology has never been the reason why these projects don’t get built – it’s always public or political opposition,” says Patsy Tennyson, vice president of Katz and Associates, an American firm that specialises in public outreach and communications.

That’s why just a handful of facilities worldwide are currently doing DPR, with Windhoek standing alongside smaller schemes in the Philippines, South Africa and a hybrid facility in Big Spring, Texas. But that’s all changing. Drought and increased water scarcity worldwide are forcing us to change the way we think about water.

Now, the US is ready to take the plunge, and in 2025, El Paso Water will begin operating the first ‘direct to distribution’ DPR facility in North America, turning up to 10m gallons of wasterwater per day into purified drinking water – twice as much as Windhoek. San Diego, Los Angeles, California, as well as Phoenix, Arizona are also exploring the technology."

Of course, DPR is not a silver bullet in the fight against climate change. It cannot create water out of thin air, and it will not facilitate endless growth. But it does help cities become more climate resilient by reducing their reliance on natural sources, such as the Colorado River.

As other nations follow in Namibia’s footsteps, Windhoek may no longer take the lead after almost six decades in front.

“But Windhoek was the first,” Honer reminds me. “No one can take that away.”"

-via Positive.News, August 30, 2023

#namibia #africa #desert #water shortage #water conservation #dpr #potable water #water recycling #clean water #drought #united states #colorado river #science and technology #sanitation #good news #hope

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just-jordie-things · 3 months

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cinnamon girl - kamo choso

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 17.3k warnings: i think none? summary: the brothers who are your neighbors across the hall settle inside of your heart as if there had been a space inside of it left just for them. more info: neighbors to friends to lovers. super cute big brother/little brother choso and yuji dynamic <3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ there’s things i wanna say to you, but i’ll just let you live // like if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did // there’s things i wanna talk about, but better not to give // but if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When she’d first met her neighbors across the hall, (y/n) hadn’t known they were her neighbors. At the time she’d still been new to the building, having only lived there for under a month, and she hadn’t quite found the time (or courage) to introduce herself to the other residents on her floor. Going door to door seemed corny, and she figured over time they’d see each other in passing, but it appeared her floor was rather quiet. Maybe they all worked at odd hours, or from home and never left their apartment, but either way, she’d barely met anyone in the building.

Save for the uppity property manager and a few of the maintenance crew. Neither of which she took much pleasure in interacting with. Neither of which provided much room for forming friendships.

Although one of the maintenance guys who fixed her broken dishwasher would have been more than happy to accept her number, as he’d tried multiple times to leave his personal number in the case of any other ‘emergencies’ as he called them. Now she tried to DIY her way out of any issue the small apartment gave her, just so she could avoid having him sent to her again.

But a month into her lease, she’s still a stranger to what feels like the entire complex, and she’d gone to the mail room to check her mailbox. As usual it was empty, and despite having hoped to make friends when she’d moved to the area, it was a bit of a relief to not have to talk to anyone right now.

That is, until a small person came running into the room. Or, half running half waddling on his chubby legs. When the child wasn’t immediately followed by an adult, (y/n) found herself panicking.

“Uh, hello,” She greeted, with painful awkwardness.

So she wasn’t that great with kids, sue her. She’d never had to interact with small children before, with no kids in her extended family, she didn’t exactly have the experience. Nonetheless, the little boy in the footie pajama tiger costume looked up at her with wide eyes and a wider smile.

There still didn’t seem to be an adult in the area, and her panic kicked up a few notches.

“Is your mommy or daddy around?” She asked, wondering if she needed to put the mail away and notify the proper authorities of this missing child.

Surely someone was missing him- he was downright adorable. With the brightest brown eyes she’s ever seen, a toothy smile that displayed his missing front tooth, and the striped tail of his tiger onesie being wrung around in his little hands- (y/n) had never felt baby fever before, but she imagined it had to be akin to the tightening heartstrings in her chest.

“No,” The boy shakes his head, most of his body following the movement in a small sway. “I don’t have them”

Okay, now she was going to have to do a breathing exercise before she called the police, so that she could remain calm until this missing child was returned home safely.

With a slow exhale, she tucks her mail into her purse before kneeling down before him. It takes her a few moments to try and find the right thing to say, this kid looked no older than five and she just wasn’t equipped to strike up a conversation with a child so young about where their home was. She tries to speak calmly and slowly.

“Are you lost, little tiger?”

Mentally, she cringes at how awkward her voice sounds when she’s trying to be approachable. Does it come across as creepy? Fuck, she hopes not.

But the kid giggles, and shakes his head.

“No, I’m not lost!” He squeals it out with that adorable little kid delight, as if he’s trying to fight a fit of giggles. “I live here! With Choso-nii!”

So he lived with his brother. That explained the no parents thing… sort of. At least enough to calm her racing heart down a bit.

“And where is Choso-nii?” She asks next, praying that at any moment this mystery brother would appear and scoop up this kid before she had to strain through much more interaction. Then again, she hoped no other adults would have to witness the embarrassing way she spoke to kids.

“I don’t know,” The boy shrugs his shoulders. “We were playing hide and seek. He hasn’t found me yet!”

(y/n’s) eyes widen with alarm before she realizes that she should probably keep her expression as neutral as possible, so as not to worry the child. It settles back into a nervous smile before she nods in slow understanding.

“You play hide and seek… out here…?” She asks slowly.

The boy holds both of his hands up to his mouth as he giggles. If she wasn’t so anxious about him being all alone, she would’ve melted at the adorable and squeaky sound.

“Nooo,” He whines out playfully. “I was trying to find a really good hiding spot!” He declares.

Again, (y/n) nods, and gives him a small laugh.

“Well buddy, the mail room isn’t a great spot. It’s all open, see?” SHe gestures around her to the space they’re standing in. “He’s sure to find you right away. Did you leave your apartment?”

The boy nods back at her, but his attention starts to stray as he begins to look around, probably for a better hiding spot.

“Does your brother know you left?”

This time he shakes his head.

(y/n) huffs, and places her hands on her knees.

“What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Itadori Yuji!” The boy declares, his attention back on her as a proud grin covers his face. “I’m five!” He adds, holding out his hand with all five fingers stretched out on display. This time when (y/n) giggles, it’s genuine.

“Itadori Yuji, I’m (y/n),” She introduces softly before tilting her head at him. “I live in the building too. Do you think I could take you back to your brother?”

Yuji frowns.

“But then my turn will be over”

She’s quick on her feet to come up with an excuse to take him back home where he belongs.

“Well… I’m sure I could convince your brother to give you a re-do. Since I messed up your game and all,” She suggests. “Do you think then it would be okay?”

Yuji thinks about it for a minute, humming and looking around the mailroom some more. Once he realizes there’s not a good hiding spot anyways, he gives in, and nods his head.

“Okay!” He agrees, and (y/n) smiles back at him as she stands up again.

“Do you know which apartment is yours, Itadori Yuji?”

“I know which button to push in the elevator!” He tells her, and she figures that’s a good start for now. If knocking on every door is what it took to get him back to his brother, she’d have to accept that.

“Alright then, let’s get to it”

As the pair make their way to the elevator, Yuji pulls the hood of his pajamas over his head. It’s got fluffy little ears to complete the whole costume, and (y/n) can’t help the smile that takes over at the adorable sight.

Yuji’s excited about pushing the buttons in the elevator. He expertly pushes the one with the number for his floor- or at least she hopes it’s the right one- before he pushes the one to close the doors.

“Choso-nii always lets me push the buttons” He tells her matter of factly.

“I can see why. You’ve practically mastered it,” She teases in response, and he seems to take it as the highest form of compliment. It’s then that she takes notice of the floor he’d chosen. “I think you and I live on the same floor, Itadori Yuji”

“Really?” The boy’s eyes light up as if he’d just learned his best friend lived so close- despite them still being strangers in her book. It makes her chuckle as she nods her head at him.

“Really” She affirms.

The first neighbor she meets, and it’s a rowdy five year old boy. Oh well, it could’ve been worse, right?

“That’s so cool! I can’t wait to tell Choso-nii!” Yuji bounces with his giddiness, and it has (y/n) chuckling again.

Even if his brother had lost track of the kid, it was clear that Yuji adored him with how much he brought up his name. (y/n) only hoped that when she returned him, Choso-nii lived up to the first impression his little brother was creating.

“He doesn’t really have any friends,”

Yuji immediately begins to overshare, and now (y/n’s) trying to stifle her laughter as he babbles on about his older brother. He’s chatty for a five year old sharing an elevator ride with a stranger, but (y/n) didn’t mind. The less she had to make awkward small talk, the better.

“But that’s just ce-bause he works a lot. He works really late too. Sometimes past my bedtime. But he doesn’t get in trouble ce-bause he’s a grown up and I’m just a kid. But when I’m a grown up I’m gonna stay up past my bedtime, too!”

A little chuckle slips past her lips just as the elevator dings, and the doors slide open again. Yuji steps out and happily leads the way down the hall. (y/n) hopes his confidence is based in his memory on where he lives.

“He’s really nice though. He should have more friends. But he has me!”

“Is that so?” (y/n) giggles softly as Yuji begins to skip down the hall.

They’ve almost approached her apartment, and her panic begins to crawl back in. Does he really live up here? Does he really live in this building? When he finally plants himself in front of a door, she prays to whoever’s up there that his brother is on the other side.

Glancing behind her to see her own door there, she swallows the lump in her throat. This kid lived right across the hall from her? Her brows are pulled into a pinch, and she’s debating on scooping Yuji up and calling the police to find his proper address, because what are the odds of that?

Maybe she was just paranoid, but she’s on the brink of reaching out to the boy when the door in front of them swings open.

Oh wow, is the first thought on her mind, and she’s lucky her throat went too dry for her to accidentally let them slip off her tongue, too.

The man that stood in the doorway couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than her- which she wasn’t expecting- but more surprisingly, he’s the most handsome man she’s ever laid her eyes on.

With a tall stature and broad shoulders, he nearly took up the entire doorway with his body. He was wearing a hoodie and sweats, but she could tell that he was well built under his clothes. From his size alone, she could conclude that, but there was also a certain aura about him that told her he was strong. Not to mention, with fair skin and dark hair swept into two messy buns, he was just so pretty she couldn’t tear her eyes off of him. There was a thin black line tattooed over the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones that stood out on his pale skin, and she stared at it too long to be deemed appropriate, but she just couldn’t help herself. He was the most mesmerizing person she’s ever seen.

She’s stunned so thoroughly that she just stands there with her lips sealed and her eyes blinking wide.

Yuji, on the other hand, is overwhelmingly delighted.

“Choso-nii!” He cheers, leaping towards his brother and clinging onto the hem of his sweatshirt.

“I was just going to come look for you, booger,” Choso finally speaks and (y/n’s) struck with a mixture of relief from the confirmation that this was Yuji’s proper home, and a sudden heat in her chest from hearing his deep voice.

The man places a hand on top of Yuji’s head, smushing down the ears on his hood as he tilts his head back so he could stare down at him sternly.

“You don’t leave the house like that,” He scolds in a gentle voice, clearly more concerned than anything. “You know that”

“I was still in the building,” Yuji pouts. “And (y/n)-san found me,”

Before Choso can ask who he means, it strikes him that the woman who’d been at the door with his little brother was still standing there. She throws her hand up in an awkward wave, still too starstruk to speak. Also perhaps a bit intimidated from having to explain herself to the handsome stranger- who happened to be her neighbor.

Before she could properly introduce herself, or find her voice, Yuji’s pulling away from his brother and reaching for (y/n’s) hand. He tugs on it as he stares up at her with pleading eyes.

“C’mon (y/n)-san, tell him, tell him!”

Choso eyes his brother with a peculiar narrow to his eyes, before shifting his gaze upwards, towards the girl who’s quietly laughing and pulling Yuji’s hand off of her own gently.

“Right…” She murmurs down at him, before turning towards his older brother. “Well, I must request that you give Yuji a re-do on his round of hide and seek,”

Choso blinks, his eyes widening in just the slightest. Enough for (y/n) to realize there was a slight violet hue in the darkness of them. Her heart skips a beat- has she ever seen violet in a person’s eyes before? Certainly not. She has to clear her throat before continuing.

“You see, I made him end his round early,” She continues, trying to bite back the grin that threatens to take over her features as she takes responsibility for the game being ended so abruptly. “Completely my fault”

A breath of a laugh escapes him, before his lips part and he smiles between her and his brother and fully laughs.

“I see,” He hums. “You can have a redo on one condition”

“Anything!” Yuji wailed out dramatically

“The game stays inside the apartment. Got it?”

“Okay!” Yuji agrees to the rule right away, throwing himself at his brother again to wrap his arms around him in a display of his gratitude. He giggles as he looks up at his beloved big brother. “I��m gonna go scout hiding spots while you talk to (y/n)-san!”

Before anything more could be said, Yuji’s darting back inside the apartment. Even with the footie pajamas, his stomps as he roams around looking for small places he could fit could be heard by the pair at the door.

“Scouting is cheating!” Choso hollers behind him, but when he’s met only with Yuji’s giggling, he figures it’s probably a lost cause already, and turns back to where his little brother’s not-as-little friend is still hovering in the hall. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallowed thickly, trying to cure the dry spell on his throat before he speaks again. “Thank you for helping him get back. I’m, uh, sorry if he was trouble”

“Oh, he was no trouble at all,” She says easily, because it’s the truth. She tries not to focus on the purple in his eyes as she jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “I actually live across the hall, so if anything he walked me home like a tiny gentleman”

She laughs off her nerves as she pulls on the strap of her bag, clutching it close to her chest. It’s a relief when he quietly chuckles too.

“I’m Kamo Choso, by the way” He says, stepping out of the doorway just enough to extend his hand to her. She hesitates before taking it, and he wonders if he’s imagining things or if she really was blushing from the simple handshake.

“(y/l/n) (y/n),” She replies softly. “Nice to meet you”

She hadn’t thought Choso would take Yuji seriously when he was instructed to talk to her, but to her surprise he leans back against his door frame and takes it upon himself to strike up a conversation. It’s nothing too exciting, but it was more than she was expecting, and it still has butterflies tickling in her stomach.

“How long have you been in the building?”

“About a month,” She answers. “Pretty sure you’re the first person I’ve met that actually counts, though”

“That actually counts?” His brow raises.

“Would you count the landlord and the maintenance crew?” She asks, a slight smirk tugging on the corner of her lips. It draws another chuckle out of him, and he has to nod his head in agreement. “Well, I should let you get back to your game,” She shuffles backward, her hands relaxing on the strap of her bag as she reaches her side of the hall. “I’m glad I met you both, though” She adds in a moment of bravery before she’s fishing for her key.

“Me too-”

“Choso-nii! Time to cooount!” A little voice hollers from inside his apartment, sending him whirling around to scold Yuji for being too loud when the door is open and all of their neighbors could surely hear his screeching.

(y/n’s) already slipped inside her door and shut it again when he turns back again. He’s disappointed, even if he didn’t know what else to say, he would’ve liked to talk to her a little bit longer. With a huff, he hopes they’ll cross paths in the hall sometime soon, before he heads after his brother.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After a few more rounds of hide and seek where Choso had to pretend he hadn’t seen Yuji’s tail poking out from under the couch, or his padded clawed feet from beneath the swaying curtains, he decides it’s time to make them both lunch.

And in the midst of perfecting his craft at grilled cheeses, he thinks he might as well press his kid brother for some more information about their supposed new neighbor.

“Your new friend seemed pretty nice” He tested the waters, keeping his focus on the stove while Yuji did a coloring page at the counter across from him.

“(y/n)-san?” He asks, grinning right away. Out of the corner of his eye, Choso can see that he began to kick his feet back and forth. “She’s really nice! I like her a lot”

“Mhm” Choso hums back, poking the sandwich around with a spatula to test if it was ready to flip yet. Yuji watches his big brother curiously.

“Did you like her too, Choso-nii?”

“I said she seemed nice” Choso chuckles, glancing over at Yuji for just a moment before focusing on the stove again.

“Well, good. Ce-bause I told her you didn’t have friends, so maybe she could be your friend”

Choso nearly chokes on air as he turns to Yuji again, a wince of a smile on his face. Yuji’s grinning, of course, because he’s five and had all the best intentions in making sure his big brother had companionship, but Choso can’t help but worry that he’d killed his chances of getting to know her better. She probably thought he was a creepy loner now.

“You… told her I didn’t have friends?” He repeats, hoping maybe the context will make things better. Maybe Yuji hadn’t said exactly that.

“Yep!” The boy responds, popping his lips with certainty before tucking away the green crayon he was using.

Choso tries to hide the curl in his lip as he turns off the stove and plates the grilled cheese. Relying on a five year old to be a decent wingman was too tall of an ask, he realizes. Yuji’s cuteness could only carry him so far… if only he wasn’t such a blabbermouth.

“Well, hopefully she’ll still like me then” He mutters as he sets the plate in front of his brother. Yuji beams as he thanks him, taking a large bite before going back to his coloring sheet.

Unbeknownst to Choso, Yuji held onto that little comment in his memory.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

To his luck, he happens to run into (y/n) just a week later.

He and Yuji were waiting at the elevator, with Yuji being a little more whiny than usual. Choso had actually been praying for the doors to open faster so that he could get the two of them out of this building before his younger brother had a meltdown.

It wasn’t often that Yuji misbehaved. He was a really good kid, who responded well to rules and structure, and was always polite where he needed to be. He could get rowdy, and maybe he was more chatty with strangers (especially cute ones that live across the hall) than Choso would have liked, but he was a respectful little five year old with a good heart, and he wouldn’t ask anything more.

Except for today.

“But I don’t like her house. It stinks. And there’s too much cat hair!” Yuji whines. He’s not being loud, but he’d had the whiny voice for the better part of an hour now, and Choso was starting to go a little crazy.

“I thought you loved Adelaine-san’s cats” He reminds him gently.

Truthfully, Choso wasn’t a fan of Yuji’s current babysitter either. She was nice enough, but she overcharged, and she never seemed to feed Yuji food he actually liked- resulting in Choso having to pick up fast food on the way home every time he picked him up from babysitting. However, she was the closest sitter to them, and she didn’t mind keeping Yuji late when Choso worked nights- which was often.

“I do, but there’s so many Choso-nii,” Yuji pouts up at his big brother. “Gets stuck on my clothes”

Despite being irritated with the whiny attitude, Choso can’t help but give his kid brother a small smile. What five year old cared about fur sticking to clothes? Yuji was something special.

“Well, you can’t come with me to work-”

Finally, the doors opened, but before the brothers could step in, (y/n) was stepping out. With arms full of bags of groceries- almost a comical amount of bags.

“(y/n)-san!” Yuji cheered after seeing his long lost friend. (It had been a week)

Despite her obvious struggling with her things, Yuji threw himself at her, eager for a hug. Choso was quick to grab him by the hood of his truck-themed sweatshirt, reeling him back before he could make the poor girl drop her things.

“Let me help you” He offered, already reaching for the handles of the bags lower on her wrists.

“Oh, you don’t have to, I made it this far-” She starts to deny the offer, but Yuji’s piping up before she could finish.

“I’ll help too!” Yuuji declared, following his big brother’s example and taking two bags, one in each hand.

“Be careful with those, Yuji,” Choso says quietly. “That’s food, you need to be gentle, like how we carry bread, remember?”

Yuji nods affirmatively, already marching back down the hallway towards their doors. Choso hopes he doesn’t think he can sneak back home with this little act of service.

“Thank you,” (y/n) chuckles as Choso loads his arms up with her bags. “I don’t believe in making multiple trips”

“Yeah, I gathered that,” He replies, smirking to himself as he did a quick count of all the bags between them. What the hell did she need all these groceries for? Does she let her pantry run out before she makes a trip? “Caught you at the right time though, huh?”

“You did,” She muses, digging a free hand into her pocket for her key. Yuji was patiently waiting at her door, and she made sure to greet him with a big smile. “And how have you been, Itadori Yuji?” She asks, unlocking the door and pushing it open with her hip. To her amusement, Yuji strolled right into her apartment.

“Terrible, (y/n)-san!” He cries out.

“Yuji, you can’t just walk into people’s-”

“It’s alright,” (y/n) giggles before Choso could scold his brother for inviting himself into her home. “Please, come in. He’s just trying to help, can I get you boys something to drink?”

“No, that’s alright, thank you, I actually-”

Choso’s interrupted again, but this time by his nosy brother, who’s set the grocery bags down on the kitchen floor before marching back over to them and putting his hands on his hips.

“He’s making me go to the babysitter,” He whines to (y/n), who raises her brows as she nods back at him, taking him quite seriously- much to Choso’s dismay. “I hate the babysitter!”

Choso rolls his eyes as he’s setting his armful of bags on the counter.

“We don’t hate,” He says softly, but Yuji’s pout only worsens, before he gives (y/n) his best puppy dog eyes. Choso sighs as he turns to (y/n). “On Thursdays and Fridays I work at a bar, so he can’t come,” He explains quietly. She nods at him too, giving him the same level of her understanding and attention. If he wasn’t starting to run late, he would have reveled in it a little longer, just because it was cute. “He thinks it’s the end of the world, but it’s not. It’s only for a few hours-”

“It’s torture, (y/n)-san!” Yuji reaches out to her, and on instinct she finds herself crouching down, returning his dramatic pout.

“Oh it sounds like torture!” She cries back. For a moment, Yuji seems taken aback by the behavior, but he just as quickly lights up, and reaches towards her again.

“Can I stay here with you instead!?” He asks, already grinning ear to ear from the idea, before she’d even given him her approval.

“Yuji,” Choso sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. What was it with his little brother and overstepping when it came to her? “I’ve already called Adelaine-san, she’s expecting us” He says pointedly.

Yuji frowns, and this time it’s not like the baby faced pout he made before. It’s a genuine disappointment in being told he had to go.

“I don’t mind,” (y/n) says softly, tilting her head to look up at Choso, waiting for him to decide whether or not he was alright with that. “I can look after him for a while. Then you don’t have to make an extra stop on your way home, we’ll be right here” She suggests.

Yuji’s grinning again in no time, bouncing on his feet before rushing over to his brother and clinging onto his pant leg.

“Please Choso-nii! Pleeaaase?” He whines, and somehow it’s more irritating than before.

(y/n) chuckles as she stands, stepping a little closer to speak under her breath, while Yuji was still whining and bouncing and not paying attention.

“Only if you’re okay with it, of course,” She says. “I understand if you’re more comfortable with-”

“You’d really be alright to take him for tonight?” He asks her, eyes flickering between hers.

She presses her lips together as she nods, trying to will herself not to get lost in his pretty dark eyes.

“Just for a few hours,” He repeats his earlier mention, and she nods again. “You’re sure?”

“She’s sure! She’s sure!” Yuji screeches, still pulling on Choso’s leg and waiting for the confirmation that he didn’t have to go to the smelly cat house.

“Alright… fine,” Choso agrees, and Yuji’s full on jumping now. Choso only hoped he wasted off this excess energy so he was calm and good for (y/n) the rest of the night. “But you have to be good. If (y/l/n) has any problems she’ll tell me, and then it’s cat hair for the rest of your life, got it booger?”

Yuji nods his head up and down repeatedly, so much so they’re surprised it doesn’t give him a head rush.

“I’ll be good! I’ll be so good!” He promises. Choso smiles, reaching a hand down to mess up his hair affectionately.

“I’ll give you my number, in case you change your mind, or if he… breaks something, or something” Choso mutters, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

(y/n) does the same, they swap, each plug in their contact, then swap back with shy smiles.

“I’m sure he’ll be lovely,” She tells him. “Don’t worry about us, I have a lot of movies. Maybe I’ll make him a big dinner and put him to sleep”

The corner of his mouth tilts into a smirk.

“Works like a charm every time,” He murmurs. “But I gotta get going, I don’t want to be too late”

“Of course” She nods, headed towards the pile of grocery bags on her kitchen counter.

“I’m usually out around one, but if it’s any later I’ll text you, alright? Or- should I call?” He’s walking back towards the door, but he hesitates as he waits on her answer.

“Either works,” (y/n) shrugs with a small smile. “Have a good night!”

It’s stupid, but his face feels warm as he lingers at the door just a few seconds longer, before he nods back at her.

“You too, (y/l/n). And thank you”

Once he leaves and the door is shut behind him, (y/n) has to shake her head to rid the silly fluttery feeling in her chest.

“Well,” She flattens her hands over the front of her pants, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles, before she turns to Yuji with a smile. “How about while I put these groceries away, you let me know if you see anything you like and I’ll get started on that for dinner, hm?”

“Did you get the dinosaur shaped macaroni?” Yuji asked hopefully.

(y/n) winces as she glances over her bags of produce, bread, and regular-shaped pastas.

“I… did not” She admits, and she actually feels a bit bad about being underprepared. Even though she’d only taken on this babysitting gig five minutes ago.

“That’s okay,” Yuji shrugs. “I like all sorts of things!”

And he’s not wrong. As she puts away the boundless groceries, Yuji points out all sorts of things he likes. Fruits, veggies, he didn’t seem like a picky kid at all. (y/n) actually found herself impressed by his wide palette.

“Choso-nii makes all sorts of stuff” Is what Yuji says when she compliments him on his taste.

“He’s a good cook, huh?”

“Very good!” Yuji tells her. “Maybe next time he’s not working you can eat with us, instead!”

The insinuation has her cheeks flaring up with color and heat, but she politely agrees and tells him she would like that.

The rest of the night goes without a hitch. Yuji teaches her how to play crazy 8s- even though the rules were simple and she’d memorized them when she was his age- and they play that while chatting over everything and nothing for a long while. Yuji tells her all about his best friend Megumi. Then when he runs out of things to say about him he talks about his favorite subjects, his favorite color, and that starts a long conversation about his favorite everything.

It’s obvious he tires himself out with all his chatting, so it’s not long after that when (y/n) shows him her movie collection and lets him pick one out. It takes him some time, as he treats this task with the utmost importance. He couldn’t make a bad choice, of course. (y/n) doesn’t mind. She’s come to shed the awkward layers and has learned exactly how to talk to Yuji.

She’s learned that taking everything he says to be completely serious and dive into a conversation about it as if he were anyone else seemed to do the trick. Yuji liked to talk, and he had plenty to say. Like how squeaky the swing sets were at school, and how he disliked when people used them because of it. He was kind, and he was entertaining. He was certainly the best company she’d taken up in a while.

When he picks the movie he settles in on her couch, cozying up in the fluffy blanket she’d grabbed for him, and he tells her that he picked one of his favorites.

The entire first half, Yuji is on the edge of his seat. Both from watching his favorite animated movie, and also from watching (y/n’s) every reaction to it. It started to grow on her, so eventually she really started to do up her reactions to every little scene.

At the halfway point she made him a big bowl of popcorn and only stole a handful of it when he wasn’t looking just to get a giggly reaction out of him.

Before she knew it, with a full belly, a cozy blanket, and his favorite movie, Yuji was dozing off on the couch.

As quietly as she could, (y/n) got to work cleaning up the kitchen. Although with how much energy Yuji had spent earlier in the night, he was sleeping as hard as a rock.

With nothing but time to spare, she decided now was as good a time as any to catch up on some reading. So once everything was clean again, she settled in on the couch, tucked the blanket around Yuji, and got to reading.

She lost hours until her phone buzzed with a notification.

[ kamo choso ] : just got out, will be by in twenty minutes or so

She liked the message so he knew she was still up and saw it. She kept the chat open for a few more minutes, contemplating sending a message back. sounds good! or he was great, out like a light! But the longer she hesitated the more she felt like too much time had passed, and it would be embarrassing to send a text. So she didn’t.

She wasn’t able to focus much on reading after that.

Choso knocked on the door not too much later, twenty minutes to be exact, just like he said. She tiptoes her way to the door, and smiles upon finding a very tired looking Choso on the other side. The circles under his eyes look a little bit darker, his hair is starting to fall from his already messy buns, and he looks like he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. Regardless, he lifts his head and gives her a small smile when she opens the door.

“Hey,” He hums. “How was it?”

“It was fun, actually,” She whispers back, checking over her shoulder to make sure Yuji was still sound asleep. “He’s a really great kid. You must be doing all sorts of things right”

Her eyes crinkle when she smiles up at him, and for a moment- and maybe for the first time- Choso nearly forgot about Yuji. He’s not sure anyone’s ever looked at him with the soft, sweet look that she’s looking at him with now. He gets lost for a moment, practically drifting off right before her.

“Oh- you’re exhausted, come in,” (y/n) mistakes his look for tiredness, and steps out of the way to let him in. “Yuji’s still sleeping on the couch. He’s a hard sleeper, huh?”

“Very, yeah. Building had a fire drill a few months back while he was having a nap. Slept through the whole thing”

(y/n) giggles to herself as Choso approaches the sofa, smiling at how content his kid brother seemed to be while curled up in the blanket, sound asleep. He was careful as he stooped over to scoop him up. It took some help from (y/n’s) part seeing as one of his hands had an iron grip on the blanket, but eventually he was free of the fluffy restraint, and Choso had him settled against his shoulder with ease. As expected, Yuji remained asleep.

“Oh, I can’t believe I almost forgot,” Choso shifts Yuji to be held up by one arm so he had a free hand to reach into his pocket. “I definitely owe you for this, what do you think is fair?”

“Oh, no,” (y/n) shakes her head back at him. “You don’t have to pay me, it was no trouble at all”

“You don’t have to say that, really, how much-?”

“I don’t have to say it, I mean it,” (y/n) assures him. “Really, he was a perfect kid. I’d… I’d happily do it again, if you ever need” She offers, a nervous smile playing on her lips.

“Okay,” He returns the smile, but he still hesitates with his wallet in his hand. “You’re sure I can’t give you something though? At least pay you back for the food?”

“I’m sure” She has to bite down on her cheek to keep her laughter from ringing out too loudly.

Slowly, she follows him back to the door. It’s later than she’s usually up, and she’s so tired that she’s sure she’ll pass out as soon as her head hits her pillow, but still she lingers at the door with him, waiting for him to say anything else.

“Well, then I can’t thank you enough. I really appreciate it, (y/l/n). Yuji did as well, I’m sure”

“I think he did. I hope, at least,” She murmurs, smiling fondly at how cozy Yuji seemed to be sleeping on his brother. “And you can call me (y/n), by the way” She adds, almost as an afterthought.

Choso swallows the lump in his throat, nodding back at her as he waits for his voice to return to him.

“Alright,” He murmurs, finally crossing the threshold of her doorway. “Good night then, (y/n)”

Her heart is racing at a million miles an hour. She fears it might shoot straight out of her chest like a bullet.

“Good night” She manages to murmur back as he crosses the hall, and she shuts the door behind him.

A sigh escapes her, and she realizes that she’d been holding her breath until she’s alone in her apartment again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Things take off after that first time she babysat Yuji.

Occasional drop offs turned into frequent visits. Yuji often wanted to stop by (y/n’s) apartment after Choso picked him up from school, eager to tell her about his day. Whether Megumi brought snacks for lunch again because his caretaker had a sweet tooth, or if he wanted to show her that he learned how to do a cartwheel, there was always something. Yuji was bountiful in excuses to go across the hall.

And to his delight, (y/n) ate it up. She watched him more and more while Choso was at work, or running an errand that Yuji didn’t feel like tagging along to because suddenly he wanted to do his homework at (y/n’s) instead. Choso had a habit of always double checking with her beforehand, sending her a quick text to see if she was even free. And it seemed that every time, her door was open. There was never a time where she turned them down.

She became Yuji’s regular babysitter, and after a while it barely even felt like babysitting. His drawings and coloring pages decorated her fridge, he’d often leave a few toys behind, figuring he’d play with them the next time he was over, and he always used the same fluffy blanket when he’d be over late while Choso worked.

It was safe to say Yuji had grown attached to her, and fast. Even when he wasn’t at her place, he wouldn’t shut up about it at home. Not that Choso minded, he liked hearing about (y/n’s) day through Yuji’s eyes. He got to learn all sorts of cute little things about her that way.

While Yuji had been spending more and more time with their neighbor, Choso couldn’t exactly say the same. He chatted with her in passing, usually at dropoff and pickup, and he tried to text her more- funny Yuji-isms he heard throughout the day, memes, offers to leave money for dinner for the two of them- and even though she was always receptive over text, reacting to every image and responding to every message, it just didn’t feel like enough.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Choso-nii, do you have a crush on (y/n)-san?” Yuji asked him one day, seemingly out of the blue.

They’re in the grocery store, where Yuji’s filling up the cart with junk, even from his booster seat in the cart. Choso does a double take at his younger brother, as if the question registered a second late.

“What?” Is all he can muster.

Yuji blinks back at him.

“Do you have a crush on her?” He repeated himself, tilting his head and widening his eyes as he studied his big brother.

“Wh-why do you ask that?” He stammers over his words, although he wishes he would have reacted a little more coolly. Did she say something? Did he give something away? Where in the world would Yuji pick up on that?

“I dunno,” Yuji shrugs. “Ce-bause you should”

Choso forgets the cereal boxes he was looking at, turning all of his attention to his little brother, since now he deemed this conversation required all of it.

“I should, huh?” He repeats curiously. “What’s that mean, booger?”

“She’s nice,” Yuji says bluntly, and Choso laughs softly at the reasoning. “And funny. And a good cook,”

He continues to list all of his own favorite qualities of (y/n), sure that most of these reasons are perfect enough for his big brother to have romantic feelings for her. At five years old, the most Yuji knew about romance was that the prince kissed the princess and everyone was happy, but it was a decent start. He only wanted that same happiness for his big brother- and (y/n)-san- after all.

“She has a lot of movies. And she’s really pretty”

Choso smiles at his brother, finally settling on a brand of cereal and tossing it into the cart behind him.

“That so?” He asks teasingly. “You sure you don’t have a little crush, booger?”

“No!” Yuji squeals and begins to giggle. His cheeks are red just from the accusation, and Choso can’t help but laugh at the display. “She’s too old, Choso-nii!”

“Right answer,” Choso remarked, pushing the cart out of the aisle and weaving into the next one. “But why the sudden interest, hm?”

“Well…” Yuji drawled, glancing around the aisles to avoid his brother’s eyes. “If you had a crush on her, and she had a crush on you, then you could live together, and we could get an even bigger house, with more toys, and we could eat all our breakfasts and dinners together, and watch movies together, and get a dog-”

“Woah, woah, woah, you’re laying way too much on me, bud,” Choso chuckles, but he can’t deny that his face was starting to feel warm from all the conclusions Yuji was jumping to. They were too wholesome for him to take. “A dog?”

“A puppy!” Yuji declares.

To Choso’s luck, conversation steers in the direction of pets, and he spends the rest of their errand explaining why they weren’t getting a dog- or any animal for that matter. Even if Yuji makes a convincing argument about how cute it’d be.

It’s better, though, because Choso needed some time to recover, and figure out exactly how he’d move out of this crushing stage. If Yuji had taken notice of it- in his own odd way- then surely (y/n) had to feel it to some degree too, right?

He just needed to find a good window to ask her out, and take her out properly. Not just a quick coffee in the morning when Yuji wanted to come over for a bit. A real date, outside of the building.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Choso finds that chance one afternoon after swinging by her apartment so Yuji could tell (y/n) all about his day at school. She’s prepared him a snack today, celery sticks with peanut butter smeared down the middle. She offered him the raisins to make the ants, but Yuji politely declined, seeing as he doesn’t eat bugs. She doesn’t argue, simply pops the raisins into her own mouth as she listens to him ramble on and on.

As Yuji drags on his storytelling as long as he can, Choso’s sat at the counter, stealing a celery stick or two that Yuji wasn’t eating while he rambled away. He’d grown used to his brother’s chatty nature, but he was always surprised how (y/n) was able to sit through it with her full attention. She never zoned out, and never missed a detail. In fact, she would ask him more questions to prompt him into talking more. It was so endearing that Choso can’t help but smile as he watches her interact with Yuji so wholeheartedly.

It takes a grand total of twenty five minutes before Yuji’s done with all his stories for the day. Choso sends him off to their apartment with his backpack, telling him to get started on his homework, and he’d be over in a few minutes. Yuji doesn’t find the instruction odd at all, happy to get started on his worksheet for the night.

(y/n), however, gives Choso a puzzled look as he stays behind in her apartment.

“Is everything alright?” She asks on impulse.

While they had talked many times before, and she wouldn’t call him a stranger, this was the first time they were left completely alone, and she was all too aware of that fact.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” He chuckles at her knee jerk reaction to worry. “I just… wanted to thank you. Again”

She still has a puzzled look on her face as she leans against the counter, waiting for a better explanation.

“Thank me?” She repeats softly. “For what?”

“For all your help, with Yuji,” Choso explains. “For the babysitting, and dinners, and… and ants on a log,” He chuckles as his gaze drifts off to the leftover snacks on the counter. “Our mom passed before Yuji could even get to know her, and I’ve… been doing this for so long it just sort of feels like it’s always just been the two of us, you know?”

(y/n) hums quietly, keeping her response to a small nod. Choso’s never opened up about their family history before, and Yuji was only five and never seemed to question his brother’s custody over him, so it wasn’t like (y/n) had ever heard anything like this before.

She wants him to know that she’s listening, that she’d always be here to help the both of them, because she’d grown to care for them both so much.

“But it’s been nice… your help, I mean,” Choso goes on. “Yuji likes you a lot, a really lot, he never shuts up about you”

She chuckles at that, the mood lightening again.

“Really?” She asks quietly, as if the boy could hear from across the hall.

“Yeah,” Choso’s eyes widen with the flair. “But I’m glad, you know, that he has you. Someone that’s not me for him to hang out with and talk to”

“I am too,” She replies sweetly, a smile stretching across her face. “He’s a really special kid, you’re quite lucky”

His heart warms up so much he doesn’t think he could take it.

“I know not everyone sees it that way,” He thinks aloud. “Most people tend to look at us and… want to leave,”

The smile on her face begins to falter, but (y/n) tries to keep her expression neutral. She’d never thought much about what other people thought about Choso and Yuji. Why should she care? She knew them both well enough to know that they were happy, and that Choso was more than capable as his brother’s guardian.

Then his wording dawns a new thought on her. Did people walk out of his life because of Yuji? The idea makes her sick. It makes her stomach twist and her heartstrings pull tight. Friends? Partners? Was Yuji such a dealbreaker that he couldn’t even have companionship?

She feels awful now, crushing on him so immaturely, not taking into account all the possible pasts he’d had with other people that had gone poorly because he had a kid to put to bed at a certain time.

Tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she’s determined not to let a single one fall.

“Anyways,” Choso clears his throat, laughing nervously as he looks back up at her again. “I just think it’s important that you know how glad I am- that- that we both are- to have you around” He finishes with a small smile, his nerves eating away at his insides.

“Of course,” She mumbles back, her throat tightening up too much for her to speak any louder. “Like I said, Yuji’s a special kid. I want to be good to him,” She says, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth as she tries to feign joy, even with a heavy heart. Then, she says, “And I want to be a good friend to you, too”

His nerves come crashing down on him in an instant. It piles up and morphs into something else entirely- something worse. Dread.

He hopes that his expression remains neutral as he holds eye contact with her. His mind battles itself as he tries to come up with what to say next. They both sit there for a few painfully silent seconds as Choso weighs his options.

If he were a smoother man, one who was better with his words, he would’ve taken his chance. He would’ve articulated all of his thoughts in just the right way and let her know that he was starting to harbor a crush on her that was reaching embarrassing levels. He’d crack a joke to lighten the mood after the confession, and then invite her out for a drink, or dinner- hell, maybe even both.

Those few seconds seemed to last too long but went by quick all at once. The fact of the matter was that she was good for them. She was good for Yuji, attentive and loving and so, so patient. It was clear that she cared for him, and Yuji never hesitated to voice how much he enjoyed (y/n’s) companionship.

Choso was sure if he were to cross the wrong line now, he’d not only create an awkward tension with his neighbor, but also ruin the good thing that Yuji had going as well. She was some idealized morph of a babysitter and a friend for him, someone he could go to when he needed help with homework, or to show her the toy he picked out with his allowance. And at the end of the day, Choso wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did something to take that away.

So he swallowed whatever he was going to say, gave (y/n) a small smile, and nodded his head back at her.

“You are a good friend” He finally answers her with quiet agreement.

She assumes he’s a bit embarrassed to say something so corny, so she lets out a little laugh and begins to clean up the snack dishes off the counter. Choso lingers around her place a little longer until he can’t take it anymore, bidding her goodbye with the request that she makes more snacks for their visits.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Despite Choso’s adamant attempts at convincing his little brother that he didn’t see (y/n) as anything other than a friend, Yuji was never fully convinced. Choso wasn’t sure what it was that made Yuji so sure that there was something between them- one sided or otherwise- but he was relentless about it. Any time they saw her in passing, as soon as he was alone with his big brother, Yuji would make some comment or another about it.

In the boy’s defense, the two were spending a lot more time around each other these days. (y/n) had taken Choso’s words to heart and began preparing an after school snack every day, so when Yuji popped by for his usual visit, Choso was always in tow. No matter what she’d prepared he was all over it. A package of fruit snacks or homemade banana muffins, Choso was accepting the snack as if it were a bountiful harvest.

The brothers seemed to stay longer and longer in the passing weeks, and soon these visits became routine. It didn’t take long, just under a month before Yuji was committed to making it an everyday occurrence. But what began as a quick visit for a snack and then to jabber on to (y/n) about his day at school soon turned into something else, too.

Yuji would move on, often sitting on the floor at (y/n’s) little coffee table to do his homework, and Choso would hang out in her kitchen for a bit longer so they could catch up on the events Yuji was less than interested in. Her work, his work, and anything that came to mind at all to keep the conversation from ceasing. There were some days Choso overstayed his welcome so much that Yuji would want to go back to their apartment, and Choso would still stay longer at (y/n’s), drinking two more cups of tea than he would’ve liked, but any excuse to sit with her at the counter a little bit longer.

And then one day, he’d struck gold.

“I’m sorry it’s so hot in here, I’ve got the windows cracked but without a breeze it doesn’t really do much,” (y/n) had apologized in passing as she pulled out a few small plates for the snacks she’d made that afternoon.

Truthfully, Choso hadn’t noticed the heat until she brought his attention to it. He was far too enamored with the cute pink apron she’d tied around herself. She always wore it when she’d baked something- so he knew that when she opened the door to let him and Yuji in today that they were in for a very good afternoon snack.

“The AC’s been broken so long I forget I’m used to it, so it’s alright if you boys want to take your cookies to go”

“Cookies!?” Yuji had squealed and raced into the kitchen, savoring the lingering scent of fresh baked cookies before it could evaporate.

Again, Choso almost missed his queue. (y/n) had taken to referring to them as you boys a couple of weeks ago, something he’d picked up on the very first time she’d said it. It was nothing special, really, it was a casual form of referring to them both, but god the sweet way her voice formed those words he could almost be deluded into believing it was because they were her boys, and the domesticity of it all had him reeling.

Luckily, he came back down to earth soon enough.

“Your AC’s broken?” He furrowed his brow and tilted his head curiously. “Have you told maintenance about it?”

(y/n) makes a face that’s somewhere between amusement and a wince, before plating up two cookies for Yuji. He thanked her four or five times before he took the plate to the table and began to gobble them away.

“I… try not to call them if I don’t have to,” She explains to him, side eyeing Yuji at the table to be sure he was too focused on his cookies to eavesdrop. “It’s just the AC anyways, I have a fan in my room and during the day the open windows are no problem”

Choso’s expression doesn’t let up, his confusion getting ahead of him.

“And why don’t you call maintenance..?” He pushes, knowing that the nervous smile on her face wasn’t for nothing.

“Eh, well, um, when I first moved in and had some issues I called for them, but one of the guys really wanted my number… and then when that didn’t work he tried leaving me his, and it was just this… whole weird thing”

She shakes her head and keeps her focus on packaging up the leftover cookies in a little tupperware container. Unfortunately, she misses the amused little smirk on his face as he leans into the counter.

“So you’d rather sweat through the summer than tell a guy you’re not interested?” He asks, and that finally earns her attention. Her eyes narrow at him slightly before she crosses her arms defensively.

“Oh, I made it clear that I wasn’t interested,” She mutters. “How does turning down a phone number five times not scream uninterested?”

Choso chuckles at that.

“Want me to take a look at it?”

She looks surprised at first, and he’s not sure if it’s because of the offer itself or if she was genuinely shocked he had a clue what he was doing, but the look wears off into a soft smile.

“Really?” It comes out in an astonished murmur, before her eyes go wide and then she’s coming around the counter to stand closer to him, apparently still in disbelief that he’d do such a thing. “You’d do that?”

He laughs again, this time with a creeping smile trying to turn into a full blown grin.

“Yeah, of course,” He says, and she only brightens further at the promise. “Least I can do to repay you for watching Yuji, for free” He reminds her, and she gives him a look that tells him what she always swears by- she’d do it for free as many times as they need- before brightening again.

To her surprise, again, Choso’s incredibly handy. He told her he didn’t mind if she had something else to do, or hang out with Yuji while he was keeping busy in his coloring book, but she couldn’t help but watch while he tinkered around with the air conditioning unit. It didn’t take him long to solve the issue at all, and when he had it all set up and it kicked into life she was cheering so excitedly Yuji even came over to enjoy the fresh gust of sweet cool air.

He ended up staying the rest of the night, fixing the squeaky vent, and the delayed garbage disposal, until he and Yuji couldn’t turn down her offer of dinner. Well, Yuji vehemently agreed, Choso took a little bit of convincing. He was eventually swayed by the gentle “Least I can do to repay you for fixing up my place, for free” that (y/n) uttered.

And just like the afternoon had gotten away from them, the evening soon did too. Once dinner was finished the remainder sat on the table for a good hour as conversation poured out. Yuji was enthusiastic in complimenting her food, only kissing up just a little in order to get an extra cookie with his dessert.

Choso was adamant in helping her clean up, despite her many assurances that she could handle it herself.

“C’mon, help me show Yuji how to be a proper guest,” He’d muttered, plucking the freshly washed dish out of her hand to dry off. (y/n) made a face, knowing he’d offered just the right excuse to get her to give in. Choso grinned back at her. “That’s more like it”

It was embarrassing how his smile had her heart racing, but she couldn’t deny it, and she certainly couldn’t help it. All she could do was keep her head down and her focus on washing the dishes.

“Thanks again for dinner,” Choso murmured after a few minutes of diligent dish washing and drying. He peeked a glance over at her, but it was clear that she was avoiding his gaze. “It’s nice to have a home cooked meal. Not that I can’t cook! I’m a great cook actually- I should really repay the favor- I just mean it’s nice to… be treated to one”

No matter how hard she bites down on her lip, (y/n) can’t keep herself from giggling at his rambling. While he’s been talking to her a lot more this past month or so, it’s often when prompted, and when he’s the first to speak, she could tell that he kept himself reserved.

It was refreshingly heartwarming to watch him stammer over his words now.

“Well… I wouldn’t turn that down,” She admits quietly, and it takes all the courage she can muster to glance at him out of the corner of her eye. “But Yuji told me his favorite meal was chicken nuggets, so I’m not sure how convinced I am of your cooking ability”

Choso turns towards her, catching her off guard by their close proximity, but she doesn’t shy away under his gaze.

“He’s five,” He argues with a playful roll of his eyes. (y/n) snickers, hesitating as she turns back to washing up the last plate in the sink. “But fine. I’ll make him his own dinner, so you and I can enjoy something more refined, if that’s what you so please”

The idea of just the two of them, eating a dinner he’s cooked, alone, has her cheeks burning up so quickly she can’t stand to look at him again. So instead she murmurs out a weak agreement, and quickly excuses herself to check in on Yuji.

Yuji had sort of been playing with his action figures, but he’d mostly watched his brother and (y/n) whisper and laugh between themselves as they did the dishes at an excruciatingly slow pace. He knew he wasn’t just seeing things, he knew what the giggling meant. At least, in his own warped and childlike way. He didn’t care to think about it too deeply, not because he was five, but because he wanted to accept what he was being shown at it’s face value- his big brother finally making a true friend.

So when it was time for the brothers to go home, Yuji made sure to hug (y/n) extra long. Even when she’d tried to pull away and stand up, he squeezed his arms tight around her. If he held on long enough, maybe it would be enough for her to understand just how important she was to the both of them. So (y/n) chuckled, returning the favor with an affectionate squeeze and a pat on his back before he finally let her go with the brightest smile on his gap-toothed face.

And then he’s tugging on his brother’s pant leg gently, before pushing his hand against the back of his knee and sending him stumbling towards (y/n). Yuji’s not a toddler, he very well could have used his words to tell his big brother what he wanted him to do.

Choso catches his footing with ease but it’s his expression he can’t cover up. A nervous smile and widened eyes as he silently scolds his little brother for the childish action. He’s only met with that giant grin before he turns to (y/n).

She has the warmest smile on her face, as if she holds nothing but endearment for the embarrassing display. He’s lucky at this moment, because she’s the first to step forward and raise her arms. If it weren’t for her, Choso’s sure he would’ve fumbled this chance.

Her touch is delicate, as if the frame of his shoulders doesn’t double hers, as if she’s not reaching on the tips of her toes to fully wrap her arms around his neck before squeezing on. Even her embrace is so thoughtfully gentle. He can’t help but think it’s all for Yuji’s sake- he’s the one that prompted this little goodbye display, not that Choso is complaining- but he supposes she’s trying to appease the five year old while not crossing an unspoken boundary with him as well.

Choso overthinks this quick hug down every avenue he can, before realizing that he has to make sure she knows there’s no boundary in sight, so he circles his arms around her waist, returning the same soft squeeze as best he could. He hoped there was still enough distance between them that she couldn’t feel just how seriously his heart took the casual affection, because it was pounding in his ears like it was trying to alert him.

It’s over in a matter of seconds, but he relishes in the way her hands slide across his shoulder blades before she steps away and drops them to her sides. If he wasn’t dead sober and anchored in this moment, he might’ve purred.

It dawns on Choso that he might be the slightest bit touch starved.

There’s a pink to her cheeks now paired with her doughy smile, and he could almost stand here and admire how pretty she looks when she’s being bashful, no matter how embarrassing it would be to let time lapse as he did so.

“Well,” The word comes out of her in a wispy breath, and she smooths her hands over the nonexistent wrinkles in her shirt before continuing, brightening her smile as she glances between her visitors. “I’ll see you boys after school tomorrow, yeah?”

Their responses overlap, but couldn’t have been more further apart

“Okay!” Yuji says with nothing short of glee.

“Of course”

Choso’s voice is quieter than his brother’s, but it’s filled with such earnestness that it has (y/n) blinking back at him as if he’s just sworn a blood oath to her. Her lips part as her eyes grow round and she’s at a loss of what’s normal in saying goodbye to your neighbor who you’re sort of friends with and you sort of have a crush on.

All she can manage is a twitchy smile as she leads them to the door. Yuji skips across the hall with delight. Choso lingers for an extra moment and when his eyes meet hers, she finds herself gripping onto the edge of her door with a little more force. Her eyes wander over the length of the black ink adorning his face before meeting his gaze.

“Thanks again for dinner,” He’s still speaking with that same low and steady tone. (y/n) tried to gulp down the lump in her throat as she held his eye contact. “I’ll text you about when I owe you one?”

Unable to clear the block in her voice, she gives him a smile and a nod. She hopes he doesn’t react awkwardly to her lack of verbal response, and he doesn’t. In fact his timid smile turns into a beam. It somehow makes his lips look even more plush and kissable-

Her eyes shoot back up to his as she returns the grin and mumbles a pathetic sort of goodbye. When she finally is able to shut the door behind him she heaves out a breath she hadn’t known was the source of the lump in her throat.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Choso started to reach out more, by whatever means necessary. Anything to spend a little more time talking to her.

He texted first more, found excuses to stop by her apartment, and always lingered for too long when dropping off and picking up Yuji. He even started playing the daily Wordle just to have something more to talk to her about.

There were moments that he swore she felt what he did. Little things, perhaps in the way she looked at him, or the sweet way she spoke quietly when it was just the two of them. Choso was sure he wasn’t imagining things, because why else would she look at him like that? Why else would she always call his name when saying hello or goodbye?

[y/n]: u up? 12:47 a.m.

Even with the progress Choso felt he’d made in getting closer to her, this was completely new territory.

As late as it was, he’d been aimlessly scrolling through his phone, so when that little notification popped up he’d clicked on it right away. He didn’t dare start typing- it would be humiliating if he created a bubble in the chat in the same second her message had sent- but he was upright and staring at the screen in disbelief.

Soon enough a typing bubble appeared, and he gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he awaited further context.

Would it be ‘sorry, wrong person!’ or was she genuinely reaching out to him at this hour? It had been some time since he’d received one of these tell-tale messages, but his heart still raced with the anticipation.

Finally, her text appeared on his screen.

[y/n]: took a guy home after a date and he’s not taking the hint to leave. mind popping over with an excuse so he’ll go? 12:49 a.m.

Choso’s out of his bed and sliding his feet into his slippers before he even starts typing up his response.

But with how quickly he’s out the door he figures there’s no point in texting back a confirmation, seeing as he’s crossed the hall between their apartments and knocking on her door before the clock ticks to 12:50.

There’s the faintest sound of shuffling from inside, and he thinks he can make out that (y/n) is saying something, but he’s not sure what. She opens the door and greets him with a brief second of pure relief and joy upon seeing him.

Only a brief second, however, as her expression morphs as soon as her eyes wander away from his face and nearly bulge out of her head. In his rush to get out the door he’d forgotten to pull on a shirt- or maybe he’d decided it just wasn’t a necessity, he wasn’t sure himself.

Her mouth moves, but when no words come out, Choso takes it upon himself to deliver his golden, life saving excuse.

“Hey, (y/n/n), got any tea?”

Honestly, it’s the first thing he comes up with. It’s not the greatest lie of all time, but as soon as he asks for it he realizes his throat is a little parched and a warm cup of tea would be perfect for getting him to relax back in bed after this. (y/n) let out the smallest of scoffs, the corner of her mouth tilting upward as she stares back at him as if to ask ‘a nickname and tea? is that the best you can do?’

He fully grins back at her, and as soon as she’s stepping out of the doorway he’s inviting himself in and making his way to the kitchen. He doesn’t even spare a glance towards the man sitting on the couch, even though he’s blatantly watching Choso like a hawk as he casually rummages through (y/n’s) cabinets. He’d been over often enough now that he knew where she kept everything he’d need, and he figured the more he made himself at home, the more this loser would feel threatened and leave.

“Uh- who’s this?” The man asked, still gawking at Choso and his naked torso, but the question is clearly directed at (y/n).

“Oh, this is Choso,” (y/n) replies sweetly. She’s still standing at the door, a bit unsure of what to do with herself. As much as she was hoping he would get her text and come to her rescue, she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do now. “He’s my… neighbor”

Choso smirks to himself as he sets the kettle on the stove, and then finally turns to give her late night visitor a once over.

He’s not typically a jealous man, it just wasn’t in his nature. However, the feeling he’s flooded with now as he stares down the wincing man who appeared to be half-hiding himself on the couch while Choso stared him down was something akin to jealousy. It was pride. All it took was one look for Choso to know that when this guy left her place, he would never return. He would never see her again. Even if he didn’t choose this for the sake of his own good, Choso would make sure of it.

What was she doing with this coward to begin with? He wonders as he watches the man stand from his seat. Piercing violet eyes track his every movement, from the way he stuffs his hands into his pockets, to the bob in his throat when he swallows.

Choso’s smirk widens, and his gaze softens when it’s casted towards (y/n).

She looks unsure of what to do with herself, but as soon as she meets his eyes she shuffles towards the kitchen, putting more distance between herself and her unnamed visitor.

“You always have your neighbors over for tea in the middle of the night?” The man asks, perplexed by the entire situation. He already has his doubts that this isn’t staged, but his obvious nerves make him lose all credibility.

Choso only chuckles to himself, casually leaning into her kitchen counter, closing some of the distance between himself and (y/n). She casts him a look, and he can’t be too sure, but he assumes it means she doesn’t know what to say, so he takes over.

“I’m certainly the only one she opens the door for,” Choso responds with a smoothness that surprises even him. He watches the realization sink in on the stranger’s face, before he moves closer to (y/n), poking her in the hip to gain her attention once more. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Her eyes are wide, and set on his in a deadlock. Choso doesn’t think she even manages a blink. She’s already rendered speechless by the unexpected comment.

But she closes her mouth and nods her head. Not at her date for the evening- no, she doesn’t turn to look at him or even peek at him from the corner of her eye. Her gaze is still locked on Choso’s as she nods back at him in a weak motion. In that moment it’s not even an act for him when he chuckles back at her, his smile growing softer.

“Fucking fantastic” The man mutters, but he’s already grabbing his jacket off it’s hook and was making for the door without further explanation.

Choso’s quite happy with himself, knowing that he made a complete stranger walk out of (y/n’s) apartment without having to be told to. He didn’t have to do anything at all, really, all he did was show up and let himself in for a cup of tea. It was only convenience that he’d opted out of a shirt for the whole ordeal.

The door opens and shuts and it takes that entire time for (y/n) to find her voice.

She smacks him on the arm first, though.

“What?” Choso chuckles as he rubs the spot in mock pain.

“You know what,” She hisses back at him, but the undeniable smile on her face makes her sound more playful than threatening. “What the hell was that?” She even giggles through the question. If she’s even trying to come across as scolding, Choso wouldn’t be able to take her seriously for even a second.

“It worked, didn’t it?” He asks.

(y/n) makes a face at him. A face that says enough. She knows he’s full of shit.

The kettle begins to whistle just in time, and without giving her an answer, Choso turns around to put together his cup of tea. (y/n) has to bring her hand to her mouth, afraid that just one heavier breath and he’d realize that her eyes had been straining to hold eye contact with him.

Of course this was ridiculous, because she knew Choso was a well built man. But having him shirtless and in her kitchen as if he belonged there was making her face heat up faster than she could control it. She pressed the pads of her fingers into her cheek in an attempt to cool down the skin.

“What was up with him anyways?” Choso asked, his back still turned to her as he focused on his drink.

(y/n) dodges the question.

“Are you really staying over for tea right now?”

When he turns back to her, mug in hand and the slightest of furrows in his brow, she worries that she just might not be strong enough to handle this one. Dropping her hand from her face, she straightens up her posture.

His hair is down, the thought is like poison, shooting through her train of thought and completely dissolving it. It looks soft.

“It was a nice enough evening…” She explains slowly, despite telling herself that she didn’t owe him any sort of explanation, there was a compulsion to tell him all about it. Choso merely raises a brow before he sips his chamomile. “I thought a few drinks back here would be nice, too. Turns out he’s only got one good story and the rest is… boring”

He laughs at that, lips curling into a grin and shoulders shaking just a little bit. (y/n) links her fingers together as she leans into her counter with a sigh.

“Think I could’ve told you that. I’d have to give the guy credit for one good story. Just running of first impressions, that is”

(y/n) huffs again, this time a pout gracing her lips.

“Yeah, well, next time I’ll run it by you then” She mutters, and she doesn’t really mean it, but Choso takes an interest in the comment anyways.

“You’ll run it by me?” He smirks to himself. “And what makes you think I’m gonna green light any more of these ‘nice enough evenings’, hm?”

“You’ve got a point. What do you know about dating?”

“What do you?” He throws the question back at her, and that pout is returning in an instant.

And then she’s dropping her head in her hands and groaning aloud.

“It’s stupid that you’re right,” She admits, dragging her hands down her face before setting her jaw in her palms. “I don’t know what I’m doing at all. What the hell is wrong with me? The last three dates I tried to go on have been like this. Not terrible. Not great. Certainly not special or memorable- besides the sting of failure”

Choso’s quiet for a moment, letting it all sink in before he spoke his piece. His lips purse before he sets his mug down and takes a few steps closer. (y/n) watches, but she doesn’t lift her head from her defeated position.

“It’s not you,” He says, and she’s surprised by the serious tone in his voice. “Besides, you managed three dates, yeah? That’s something”

“That’s just this week” (y/n) mutters.

Choso can’t hide the change in expression, and she must notice his shock, because her lips tilt into an amused little smile.

“Did you think I just sat around and waited to play babysitter?” She teased quietly. “Not that I don’t love it, but I do have a life, y’know”

He should say something, backtrack and explain himself before she assumes that he’s never given her free time a second thought. He thought about it too much, really. And had he known she’d been spending it on useless dates, he would’ve involved himself sooner.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Dating just… sucks”

It’s lame advice, Choso knows that as soon as it comes out, but (y/n) nods her head in agreement before leaning off the counter and wrapping her arms around herself.

“It does suck,” She murmurs back. “But… I’m scared that if I don’t put myself out there now then I won’t have…” She trails off, and a look of realization flashes over her features before she shakes her head. “It’s late,” She says then. “You should probably g-”

“What were you going to say?”

She blinks back at him, pausing as if to take a second to make sure he really meant it. She chews on the inside of her cheek for an anxious beat before she opens her mouth again.

“What if I waste my time and never meet anyone that wants the things that I want and then I’ll be alone and it will all have been for… nothing…?”

He smiles, but there’s a bittersweetness to it. (y/n) seals her lips shut as she waits for his response. She fears she’s embarrassed herself enough for one night, now it was his turn.

“You’re not wasting your time,” Choso starts slowly. “You’re just… figuring out what you don’t want. That’s just as important, don’t you think?”

A smile begins to crack in her features, and he feels relief to know that he’s at least sort of helping.

“Well, then so far we’ve crossed boring, creep, and loser off the list” She grumbles, and Choso chuckles to himself.

“Where does a girl like you find these losers?”

He’d gotten too comfortable too fast and he realizes it as soon as her eyes widen up at him, not too much, but enough that he notices, and he knows that she’s caught the choice words of his loose lips. A slight smile pulls on her parted lips as she thinks through just how she wants to call him out on it, but for right now, she relishes in the way his cheeks flush and his own eyes widen in panic.

“A girl like me, huh?” She teases, her soft smile turning into a full blown grin. “And what do you mean by that, Choso?”

Again, he thinks she must know what she’s doing when his name drips from her voice like sweet honey. Nothing else has ever weakened his insides quite like it.

“You know what I mean,” He tries to play it off casually, but her eyes narrow on him in disbelief. “You’re super nice, and… easy to talk to”

“Oh, right, I forget that super nice gets you everywhere” She exaggerates.

“You don’t need me to stand here and tell you you’re a catch, (y/n),” Choso sighs, and the playful crinkle in her nose dissipates, the rest of her features softening along with it. “You have to know that”

It’s quiet for a moment, and she’s staring at him with what he worries is disbelief. Was she not taking him seriously? Did she think he was only joking? Well that simply wouldn’t do, he couldn’t possibly leave her apartment now until he was sure she knew just how wrong she was.

So he ignores the nerves prickling his skin warning him not to cross too many lines at once and he speaks up again.

“C’mon, I mean, obvious stuff aside, anyone would be lucky to score a date with you. You’re excellent company, I mean, you don’t know how often I lose time when I’m talking with you. It’s never a dull moment, even when it’s quiet, and I think that’s just about the most important quality in a person, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but even if she wanted to answer, Choso gives her no time to do so. “You’re funny, in the witty way that I can’t keep up with and in the silly way that Yuji’s so taken with. You’re patient, and generous, and kind,”

Her lips part, but there’s nothing she could possibly say to him right now. Her mind has been wiped blank. All that she can hear now are the words he’s saying, and she’s not even sure that this isn’t all a dream at this moment and she’s not about to wake up in her bed with a funny feeling. Her heart was beating so hard she feared it would leap right out of her chest and she’s helpless to stop it. Nonetheless, she wants nothing more than for him to keep going.

“You’re smart, and capable of anything, and you’re not afraid of chasing the things you want,” Choso goes on, and he doesn’t stutter once. Every word is spoken with precision, as though rehearsed. Or maybe it just came to him that naturally. “Yuji loves you and that’s all the more I could ever want. You’re the first person he’s really attached himself to, you know. He never… he never really cared for anyone the way he cares about you,”

Tears have started to well up in her eyes, but it’s still not enough to stop the seamless train of thought he’s spewing out. If he notices this, he doesn’t comment on it. He just keeps going.

“But it’s clear that he loves you and it’s clear as day why. Anyone with eyes and an ounce of a brain would feel the same. And they should. And it’s really a pity that so far no one’s managed to behave the way you deserve, and treat you the way you deserve”

She thinks he’s finished, only because he’s paused long enough and he’s staring at her now as if everything he’d just said was now being displayed on a teleprompter before him. At first, all she can manage is a small gasp to clear the lump in her throat.

“You-” She starts, but her voice fails her and she has to shake her head to convince herself to ignore her nerves. “You really mean all of that?”

It’s a whisper so soft that even a creak in the floorboards would have overpowered her voice. But the apartment is dead silent. All she can do is stand frozen in place as she watches him and waits for his answer, for the confirmation that he really had just said the kindest, most beautiful things anyone has ever said to her, seemingly out of nowhere.

During his pause, she steps closer, glossy eyes remaining focused on him, as if a single blink could cause her to miss his next words. There had been few moments in her life that she’d felt worried over missing- but right now if you’d asked her to name them she would probably come up short.

“I… don’t say things I don’t mean,” He tells her in a moment of unfiltered honesty- which he was on a streak with tonight.

(y/n) gives him a faint nod in return as she tries to blink away the wetness in her eyes. There wasn’t a chance she’d let herself cry in front of him right now- not at one in the morning after he already had to rescue her from a dead end date.

For all of his forwardness, Choso’s throat has gone so dry he knows that his next words will come out in a strained out scratch. He feels like there’s a spotlight on him, even though the lighting in her apartment is so dim there’s shadows casted over the expanse of her left cheek. It paints her into a silhouette that he believes could be hung in every museum. When he tries to take a gulp to ease the dryness of his throat, it’s faintly audible.

A quiet sound of amusement breezes past her lips before they quirk up into a smile so gentle Choso swears only a soft stroke of a paintbrush could capture it in it’s full essence. He might just have to pick up the hobby of painting if he wishes to fully preserve this image. Honesty strikes him again in his moment of inspiration.

“(y/n) you should know that I’m starting to have feelings for you,”

It’s a murmured confession, spoken so genuinely from the bottom of his heart that (y/n) can feel them filling her own heart with a gooey warmth.

“Well, not starting, I- I’ve known about it for a while, actually,”

He seems to stammer and partially mumble over his words as soon as he’d started to speak with certainty, but it doesn’t make them any less true. (y/n) knows this, and he can tell in the way her eyes seem to hold stars as she stares at him with pure marvel. It makes him concerned that she’s never heard these things before.

“But, y’know, I didn’t want to say anything because of how much Yuuji adored you and I didn’t want to do anything to disrupt that,”

Before he knows it, Choso’s rambling, but (y/n’s) patient and takes in everything he has to say. She’s never seen him unload so many thoughts like this, and even with her heart on the brink of beating out of her chest, she takes in everything he has to say.

“In the past he’s sort of just shut down around anyone I’ve gone out with, or tried to, at least. It’s just not like him, to be quiet, or shy. I hated seeing him like that. I don’t know what it was, why he never got comfortable around anyone, and I didn’t know if it would always be like that…”

Choso trails off for a moment, starting to realize just how much oversharing he was doing tonight. Maybe it was the late hour, or maybe it was that look she’d held in her eyes all night, like she was holding something back as well, but whatever finally pushed him over the edge to spill his every hidden thought was a driving force so strong nothing could have prevented it now.

“But then he found you and he was just… taken,” A quiet laugh falls from his lips as he thinks fondly about the adoration his little brother holds for her. Sheepishly, he finishes his train of thought. “And I guess that rubbed off on me, too”

Her lips are wobbly at first as they form a wider smile, and then she’s making a short shuffle forward, putting them both toe to toe.

“You didn’t want to tell me you had feelings for me because you thought Yuuji would be upset?” She asks him, like maybe she’s not sure she understood him right. Choso seals his lips together as he gives a faint nod in return. Her head tilts to the side, her round eyes narrowing as an aura of curiosity settling over her as she gazes up at him. “And you think I’m a catch?” She repeats his earlier statement, and lets out a breathless and short laugh when she watches color flush his face. “So… what’s so different now that you decided to tell me?”

Her fingers latch around the hem of the shirt she’s wearing, twisting at the material in short nervous movements. However the clear sign of nervousness is easy to overlook when she’s staring at him so intensely. His sincerity tonight had been a blessing that she was going to milk for all it’s worth. Once she got a taste for how deeply Choso felt his feelings, she just had to know more, even if it meant pushing him to share more. Although she hoped her eagerness wouldn’t drive him out of her home, she hoped he’d stay until she got her fill of all of his thoughts.

“I don’t know,” He sighs, and his shoulders fall slightly as he visibly relaxes. It makes her wonder if he’d been tense this whole time, if she’d put him on edge by standing there while he made confession after confession. The thought makes her swoon just a little bit harder- if possible. “I guess… I just couldn’t hold it in anymore,”

Her brows cinch together as her expression morphs, into something he worries is pity, so he frowns.

“I did try, just for the record” He tells her suddenly. The change in tone makes her chuckle in her confusion.

“Tried what?”

“Tried telling you,” Choso clarifies, “Months ago”

“What?” She shakes her head in disbelief, a slight frown tugging on her lips as she tries to recall when he was referring to. Surely she’d remember an attempt of him asking her out, or telling her about his feelings. Yet nothing comes to mind. “You did no such thing”

“I did,” He insists, laughing humorlessly, but the sound lightens the mood between them and (y/n) finds herself laughing along with him. Although hers holds more amusement than his had. “And then you put me in the friend-zone. Or neighbor-zone. Or Yuji’s brother-zone”

“I absolutely did not!” Her voice cracks as it raises to it’s usual volume, the soft whispers of earlier long gone as another laugh rips out of her chest at his insinuation. “Don’t tell me you actually thought that”

The seriousness in her voice has his heart strings tightening to their fullest extent, straining and quivering on the brink of snapping completely. At this point, Choso thinks that she’s well aware of the emotional warfare she’s using against him, but then he catches that glossy look she still held in her eyes and he thinks she’s just as weakened by her own ardency as he was by his.

“Trust me, had I known different, things would be different” He says, raising a hand to drag a finger in the space between them to make the context clear.

Soft surprise adorns her face as he’s the first to surrender in their game of dancing around it, and it’s quiet for a few beats as she waits for her heart to calm down enough where she can speak without a tremble in her words.

“I’m telling you different right now, aren’t I?”

The silence of her apartment is deafening. Seconds pass like years as he stares back at her, his eyes shifting between hers as quickly as they possibly could, a sudden desperation in being able to read her expression clear on him. Patience was just a part of Choso’s nature- it had to be when he alone was raising a five year old like Yuji- but any thought of moving slowly was thrown out the window as soon as he was finally sure of that look in her eyes.

“I want to kiss you,”

He moves forward then, his hands moving as fast as his words as they land on her jaw, and despite their swiftness his touch is gentle. They cup under her face with thoughtful softness, and as soon as he’s touching her, his patience is restored. Suddenly he has all the time in the world, and he lets his gaze slowly trace over every little feature of her face until he’s sure he’s memorized every last inch. (y/n’s) expectant before him, her lashes fluttering as her eyes shift repeatedly between his lips and his own gaze. He wasn’t taking the hint, and unfortunately, her voice was caught in her throat. She’d seemed to have lost it as soon as the rough pad of his thumb began to trace the length of her jaw to her chin.

After taking his sweet time, he pushes closer, tilting her chin upwards so that his nose could just barely graze past hers.

“Can I kiss you?”

The murmured request is so close to her own lips she can practically feel them moving against her own. Her nod of approval isn’t complete before the minimal space left between them is finally closed, and warm lips press against her own with the same gentleness of his hands.

She returns the softness at first, moving her lips against his with an experimental curiosity, but it’s not long before she can stop herself from reaching out to him. His bare chest is warm under her palms, and at first contact all she does is press her hands against it, fingers splayed out to feel every warm inch of skin that she can. Choso’s fingers flex and tense against her jaw upon the sensation that he hadn’t felt in so long it was almost unfamiliar.

But her touch was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. The pads of her fingers were soft as they moved across his skin, slow but sure as they mapped over his chest and around his shoulders, yet the light graze of her nails was just enough sharpness to leave goosebumps in the wake of her path. Even when a sigh is shuddered out of him, she doesn’t part from their kiss.

Choso can’t help but slide a large hand around the back of her neck, keeping her close to him even as they both begin to gasp for air between kisses. The soft newness of it all is quickly replaced by a hot need to not stop. It’s evident in the way their touches begin to lose shyness, and soon their grabbing and pulling at one another as their kisses grow messy and uncoordinated.

She presses as close to him as she can get, even with her own body heat reaching uncomfortable peaks, she still desired to feel his warmth. More than that, though, she wanted to card her hands through his hair- and she did just that. She’s rewarded with a soft whimper against her lips when her fingers dive into the roots and tug just a little bit before combing through the rest of it.

When she moves to do it again, a pair of hands seize her hips, and their lips are properly parted for the first time since he’d first kissed her as he lifts her up with ease, turning to drop her onto her kitchen counter before pressing close to catch her lips with his again. She’s rendered breathless from the movement- after already trying to catch up in her breathing during their sudden makeout session- but there’s not an ounce of protest in her when Choso pulls her knees apart in order to slot himself between her legs and continue where they left off.

Her arms wind around his neck as she pulls him down the short distance to kiss him properly. The height difference between them now isn’t nearly as drastic as when she was standing, but it’s still noticeable even as she’s perched on the counter.

Her heaving chest only becomes noticeable to Choso once his hands are making their way from her thighs towards her ribs, where he feels them expanding and contracting at an alarming rate. He lets out a chuckle and breaks apart from her, his amusement only furthered when her lips chase after his, despite her panting for air.

“(y/n), sweetheart,” He murmurs affectionately as he catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger to halt her from kissing him again. When her eyes open to meet his, her eyelids hang heavy over her dilated pupils, and Choso’s so struck with awe at her beauty in this moment he’d nearly forgotten why he’d stopped kissing her in the first place. “Want you to catch your breath” He mumbles, the pad of his thumb reaching up to drag over the swollen plushness of her bottom lip.

Somehow, they look even more kissable than before. Especially paired with her flushed cheeks and the dreamy look in her eyes as she peers up at him through her heavy and fluttering eyelashes.

She leans forward, but she doesn’t try to kiss him again. She’s just filled with such a strong desire to stay close to him that she couldn’t bear to be the few inches apart that he’d distanced them with. He smiles softly at her as her hand begins to sweetly comb through his hair. It’s not the same motion as before, it holds a different feeling in the way she moves slowly, and with no grip at all, and yet his chest is filled with the same overwhelming adoration as when she’d had her hands fisted in it. He decides to let his hair hang loose more often from here on out.

“I can’t stay,” He murmurs after a long but comfortable silence between them. “Yuji…” He trails off, but she gets the idea, and nods back at him.

“I understand,” She whispers back, followed by a bittersweet smile. “It’s alright…”

“He’s staying at Megumi’s this weekend, though,” He mentions, his eyes following the movement of his thumb as it grazes over her lip, enamored with the way the plushness of it gave in even under his gentle touch. “We’ll go on a proper date then, hm?” He offers with a hopeful look.

“Sure,” (y/n) smiles, and then playfully purses her lips to peck a light kiss against his thumb. “Or you could just come over for tea again,” She suggests instead, followed by a short giggle.

His cheeks and neck flush with a rosy hue, but he nods back at her in agreement.

It was a date.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“So, does this mean you’ll get married?”

Yuji’s blunt question has Choso choking on his drink. Burying her face in his shoulder, (y/n) tries to suppress her laughter, but it’s obvious in the way she snorts and her shoulders shake. Meanwhile, Yuji’s still sat on the floor in front of them, half watching the movie that’s playing and half checking on the two of them as he awaits an answer.

After a few weeks of going out and ensuring one another that their change in relationship was working, more than working, Choso and (y/n) thought it was the proper time to break the news to the little boy. It wasn’t much of a surprise when he was excited to hear it, but the first question that came to his mind wasn’t as expected.

“Well, maybe, buddy, let’s just cross that bridge when we get there, yeah?” (y/n) answers him with a kind smile, even though the idea of marriage so early in their relationship as her face burning and her heart beating wildly in her chest.

“Okay” Yuji accepts the answer and goes back to watching the movie for a bit.

Choso finally clears his throat and settles back into his comfortable position on the couch, (y/n) still tucked under his arm and pressed into his side in just the way he liked, and after a few minutes of mentally calming himself down he really did relax again.

“We’ll still live together and get a dog though, right, Choso-nii?”

(y/n) could feel every muscle in his body tense, but she still can’t help but look over at him with a questioning raise in her brow and a purse in her lips as she smiled.

“You told him we were getting a dog?” She hums curiously, waiting for his explanation of his little brother’s question.

A nervous, breathless laugh falls from his lips.

“You’re only focused on the dog part?” He asks, wondering what her thoughts were on the living together part. (y/n) hums, and shrugs a shoulder before she leans into him again, her focus on the movie as she settles against his shoulder comfortably.

“Well, I’m more of a cat person,” She replies, knowing fully well that wasn’t what he was implying. “Then again, a house vote would be fair”

Yuji seems enthusiastic about this compromise, and doesn’t seem to have any more questions for his big brother and his new girlfriend as he completely immersed himself in the movie once more.

With the arm he had wrapped around her, Choso tugs (y/n) a little bit closer, until he’s able to drop a kiss on the top of her head, before he leans into her as well and a comfortable silence settles over the room as they all grow sleepy watching a film together.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ hold me, love me, touch me, honey // be the first who ever did ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

#kamo choso #kamo choso x reader #choso x reader #kamo choso imagine #choso kamo imagine #choso kamo x reader #jjk choso #jjk choso x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujustu kaisen imagine #jjk self insert

944 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

Note

Hiya!! I’m obsessed with your writing. You’re my favorite writer on here, I dream of your stories!

Would it be possible to request (either with Ghost or Price, I love them both equally) something like they were young love but he breaks up with reader cos he wants to keep her safe and thinks he knows what’s best for her. Then during a mission gone wrong, they need a safe house but somehow the enemy found out all the locations of their approved safe houses. He remembered her place is close by and tries his luck. Maybe she gets mad at him for making decisions for her or maybe he learns about her difficult past that happened without with. But with a happy ending? ☺️

Only if this inspires you! Thank you again for sharing your beautiful writings!

If You Bite My Hand Again

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: How dare he show his face to you after all of these years. How dare you still find it in yourself to love him.

WORDCOUNT: 6.6k

WARNINGS: Heavy angst, abandonment, arguments, mentions of death, blood, insinuations of torture & mental illness troubles, Simon's comic backstory, hurt/comfort, sort of suggestive?, anxiety attack, somewhat happy ending, etc.

A/N: This was really fun to write, lol, enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You never should have met him. In fact, it seemed like the universe had been adamant to make you not run into each other on that chilly October morning almost…well…it has to be more than thirteen years ago, now. So long.

As you head to your kitchen and glance at the clock, the hands point to a perfect three-fifteen—an hour of pitch-blackness and whispering winds that dash past the musty glass of the windows. The thump of your footsteps blocks out the heaving sigh that falls from your mouth; rubbing at your eyes like a cat as great bags sag from tired flesh.

The dreams weren’t uncommon.

Simon still reigned supreme in the conjuring of them, ingrained into the sinews and pulled thin by a hand constantly working them—knitting a sweater of memories addled with age. Moth-eaten.

As you snap on the light of your tiny and run-down kitchen, the bulb fizzing and the dishwasher still emitting that squeal as it always does, you think about him before grabbing a glass. Water hits and fills the thing up as your eyes blankly stare, fatigued but yet never more awake.

The tremors in your hands persist.

You never should have met him.

—

Your feet take you to Primary, laces a mess atop your little shoes caked in mud and grass—you’d chased after a butterfly through the front yards, getting caught in your neighbor's bushes and having to slip your way out before she could rampage outside with her broom.

It was no surprise that your face was lit with a bright smile, eyes shining like fire that your teachers had given you a special name for—“Ember.”

The very thing that could start a blaze over and over again as long as it still was alight.

Laughing and peeing out leaves from your hair; flattening out your uniform, you stride with pride ingrained into your body. Well, you did before you heard the soft sniffling coming from down the alley.

Halting, your ears perk at the sounds, smile freezing as you blink quickly. Looking to your left, you lock onto the hunched figure of a boy.

Perhaps only a year or two older than you, you stare in curiosity as he consciously paws at his cheeks, walking out of the alley in broken and odd strides. His uniform is ruffled, wrinkled, but not in the way yours was.

He must have fallen and hurt himself, you reason with a child-like frown pulling on your lips. Blinking at his blond hair, you get a glimpse of red-rimmed brown eyes.

The boy halts, looking at you widely, fear and pain emanating from his expression. You’re the first to speak, brightness still in your eyes but a deep innocence that comes with youth. All you saw was a boy your age in pain—that was strange to you. You knew what getting hurt was like; you fell and scraped your knees often, or hit your elbows on corners. Sometimes you would cry from that…did the same happen to this boy?

“You’re crying, aren’t you?” Brown-Eyes stares, hurriedly pushing at his face to wipe tears but only succeeds in making his face red from the material of his uniform. “Did you fall down? I do that pretty often—it’s okay, my Mum says you’ll be better after a hug and a kiss!”

You smile and stand straighter.

“I,” the boy begins, sniffling. “I didn’t fall. I’m not clumsy.”

You tilt your head, confused. “Well…then why are you crying?”

“That’s none of your business!” He snaps, brows pulled in as he comes forward on the sidewalk. Your face twists as you huff in annoyance.

“My Mum says to treat everyone nicely. That wasn’t very nice.”

“I don’t bloody care, do I,” you’re sent a scathing glance as he passes. “I didn’t ask for you to speak to me. Leave me alone.”

Naturally, you follow after, cheeks gaining heat.

“You’re being mean! Apologize!”

“Would you run off already?!” The boy shouts, and perhaps something fires in that small brain of yours—a thought and a semblance of self-realization at the shame that emits from his tone. A tight squeeze of vocal cords.

He was ashamed. Ashamed you’d caught him. Seen him.

Your feet slow back to a stop, watching him hurriedly continue on and hearing the quiet gasps of breath. After a moment, you grit your teeth and run the distance; seizing him around the middle in a hug of stubby fingers and tightly closed eyes.

The boy startles, body hardening and a cry escaping his lungs. “Get off of me!” He shouts, hands snapping down to yours and digging under your hold.

“No!” You call, stubbornly. “My Mum says that hugs make everything better—”

“Stop talking about your Mum!” The boy stomps his foot to the ground, chubby cheeks turning crimson as he tilts his head back to look at you, tears still dripping off his chin.

A stiff silence falls but like a green branch on a tree, Brown-Eyes’ form twitchingly loosens, his prying hands softening as you hold tight—digging your nose into his spine. He minutely flinches, but you only hug him more.

You’re both late to the building, and your teachers are going to give you scoldings. But right now, on a chilled October morning, you hug this strange, crying boy and blink your fiery eyes up at him.

After he relaxes fully and the sniffling stops, you let go and smile brightly again, looking up into his open expression of innocent confusion. Whatever had happened, he must have fallen pretty hard, you thought, pulling out another leaf from your hair. You giggle and hand it over as a gift.

The boy hesitantly picks it up and looks at it before turning back to you.

“Call me Ember.”

A pause. A hesitation. But your eyes shimmer and he relents with the memory of the hug in the front of his mind. Such a strange encounter.

He speaks, looking away from you with flushed cheeks, muttering out as his tear streaks dry.

“...Simon.”

You walk together the rest of the way.

The reality was, if you had gotten caught by your neighbor, had snatched that butterfly—had even stayed in those bushes for three more seconds, you would have missed him. And if Simon hadn’t run out of his home crying, he never would have locked onto the burning reality that was with you.

—

You put the glass to your chapped lips and take a long sip, throat bobbing as you take down the liquid with tears burning your eyes. Blinking rapidly, you swipe at the water at the sides of your mouth and shake your head, sighing.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Your voice bounces off the walls, peeling paint and moving the dust stuck atop the fridge. “Damnit, Simon.”

Today was worse than the others—everything building and stacking like some castle of misery and pain; windows too narrow to let in any light and your form stuck in shadows longer than an endless rope. There were just so many things that suffocated you now.

And in the endless nights, the brain desperately looks for comfort.

You hate that it only comes from the memories of him.

“I have to go to work tomorrow.” Your subconscious reminds you as you blankly stare out the window above the sink, seeing the streetlights and the cone of warm light—it flickers every so often, a blinking taking place like the eye of a large, brutish, wolf.

Work, then the grocery store, then back home to eat a tasteless dinner and fall back to sleep. An empty house with empty walls and empty memories.

Your hands put the glass in the sink, coming back up to rub and dig into your eyes until the itch behind your flesh stops. A thump of a low pulse is felt in the thin skin, orbs of your optics moving before you pinch into the bridge of your nose and drop them with a slap of a hand to the counter. A harsh breath exits your mouth, but it’s quickly strangled away into a sound of ragged shock.

Outside, under the light, the silhouette of a man leans heavily on the pole, feet shaking under him and face pressed into the shadows as his shoulders heave. You stare, wide-eyed, as your heart jumps to a rapid pace.

“What the fuck?” Your mouth utters, watching the man push off the light and stagger with a heavy limp and a jerking body of immense stature. Whoever this guy was, he was out of his mind—and coming right for your front door. You startle to go and secure it, feet slapping the ground and face twisted.

“What the fuck?!” Gasping, you re-check your locks and frantically look for something else—the stool where you place your keys meets your eyes. You grab it and place it as a barrier to the handle, tilting it on two legs and blinking quickly as whatever sleep-sheen that had been in your gaze leaves in one swoop of adrenaline.

Grunting wafts in from under the door, haggard inhales and a sudden slam of a body hitting the door. You stifle a scream and back up quick steps, slapping your hands to your mouth.

Sure, you might live in a shitty neighborhood, but no one had ever tried to just straight-up break in high or drunk off something. Your mind slashes to the knives in the kitchen drawer as the wall shakes again—something sliding down to the ground and a grunted whine.

Just before you run off, you hear it. An utterance; a disruption of airwaves. A whisper, a plea. Your brain ceases to function with one foot back the way you came, hand on the frame with the knuckles tight.

In one instance it all comes to a screeching halt.

“Ember…”

Who called you that anymore? The rare instance where you’d meet your classmates in the world they would mutter it; also be asked a few questions before they went on with their lives. You pause in your panic, slowly gazing back at the barrier and the stool like you’d just discovered you’re under the sights of a sniper.

There’s a sliver of something that inserts itself into your brain. Fear or hope, you can’t tell. But that can’t be right.

He left.

“Ember!” You flinch, the deep Manchester accent grating your heart into shreds. No. “It’s me!” He says, followed by a horribly gritty cough.

There’s a weak thump against the door, mumbled curses, and growls as if a wild animal mimicking human speech. You almost wished for that, considering you now knew the exact person behind the door down to his atoms. The brown of his eyes and the way his cheeks looked as they were stained with tears.

His laugh. Simon’s voice. Everything.

Simon.

You’re rushing to rip the stool away with a clatter and a jerk as it hits the far wall, undoing the locks with shaking hands as you grasp the handle and wrench it sideways.

His form slams to your feet with a loud grunt as the door hits the wall.

“Fuckin’ hell! Mind your bloody—!” Whatever he said was lost to you as you stare at the bloodied form of the man you had thought you’d seen the last of. Tactical gear, terrifying skull mask, black on black with weapons galore. But that voice told you all you needed to know.

Simon Riley is alive and very much breathing.

The same boy you still loved.

The same boy who’d broken your heart.

—

After October the years with Simon seemed to strengthen. You always walked together in the mornings—or, at least, you always waited for him. The dawn of your friendship strengthened and hardened to an unbreakable amount of mid-day rays; vast and sunny.

When he was sixteen he asked you to be his girlfriend, hand in his pockets and ache on his chin as he grunted out broken sentences. Stuttering and awkward. You’d smiled with your bright eyes and giggled before kissing his cheek—feeling his sigh and him melting into you with a grin of his own, unable to meet your eyes for a moment.

Later, when he said he’d wanted to leave his apprenticeship at the grocery’s butcher shop and join the Special Air Service, you’d been along for the ride—anything to get him away from his father and brother. You knew what was going on, even if he was still so hesitant to allow you any glimpse of his home life.

When he’d shy away at the Halloween decorations of skeletons as if the skull would jump off the page and tense at loud cheering, you knew. You did what you could, but there was only so much for you to suggest or say without him shutting down.

When you’d offered your flat as a safe space after graduation, desperate to help your Lover, he’d stared and blinked in shock; tilting his head at you before smiling softly and taking you into a hug. Wherever he went, he knew he’d always have a place by your side.

So, throughout his leaves of absence from the military, he’d come home to you—bruised and tired, but still the same Simon you fell in love with. You’d cook for him, tease at his shaved hair as he gave you those puppy-dog eyes, and talked him through your classes at University.

You would fall asleep on his chest, feeling the hard strength he was gaining and the way he held you tighter than he ever had; conscious of himself but not wanting to part with you.

The love the both of you had was akin to a blaze of fire, and you often found Simon simply staring into your eyes in times like those—watching silently and rubbing his thumb along your spine until your face burned.

He was always so gentle despite everything; you loved his perseverance, his drive to be good despite nearly every factor telling him he couldn’t be. Slowly but surely, he was forging his own life.

In 2003 he managed to take a break from the military to get his family straightened out. His brother, Tommy, went to rehab—Simon stayed with his mother and a year later he kicked his father to the curb and out of his and his family's life entirely. Finally free.

You managed to meet his lovely mum, still so bright, and even interacted with Tommy once he got out; went to the younger brother’s wedding in ‘06 and met Beth, his wife. When you saw Simon’s mother and the way she carried herself, you knew where your Love got his pride from. The two were so alike it was a sight to see.

While it may not have been conventional by any standard, Simon proposed to you in the back garden of Tommy’s cheap wedding venue. Alone, so as not to cause a scene. Willow trees and a small stream of water. Fireflies. The words ring in your soul with every waking moment, and they will stay there until it all goes silent with the grip of death.

He didn’t want to use his mum’s ring—the one that holds so many bad memories for both parties. He’d used the gold from it though. Went to a man who bled him dry for money to have it re-cast.

It was simple. A small, glinting, ruby pressed in the middle.

“It was always goin’ to be you, Ember, yeah?” he’d muttered in his deeper voice, formal attire holding you both tight. “So…don’t make me beg too much, Sweetheart. You know the old lady’ll kill me if I get stains on my suit.”

“Beg?” You responded, tears in your eyes but such a wide grin on your lips. The stars above you twinkle like the pupils of your eyes—the same burn still trapped. “Oh, Simon, come on, now.” He connects his forehead to yours, hand still in the middle of you and presenting the accumulation of all of his love. The other wraps your waist.

He was shaking slightly.

“I would never make you beg for my love, Brown-Eyes.”

You both share a breathless chuckle and lock lips, smiling like fools as he sighs into you.

In a happy world, that would have been the beginning of a perfect life. A happy house. A happy wedding. Happy deaths.

But something went wrong on one of his deployments.

Missing for months, he came back…wrong. With a fiery temper and sharp snapping words—wounds on the outside as well as inside. His eyes were feral, like a dog held back by a broken chain carting around its feet.

Simon never spoke about it—the missing days. The weeks. The months.

You broke yourself over it, trying to help but not knowing what would make it better. Some days there were flickers of soft expressions, but it was as if he were dragging himself up from a pool so deep it was bottomless to show them to you. Simon rarely smiled. He rarely sent an affectionate glance.

He didn’t let you touch him.

And then he called the entire engagement off with a letter on your counter only holding four words.

‘Don’t look for me.’

And then Simon’s mum, Tommy, Beth, and his nephew had all died. Been killed. And you were just supposed to move on? Live with that? There were times when you had breakdowns so bad you couldn't leave the house for days—the house that Simon and you had bought together.

All of those years.

All those vows and shared nights.

And he disappeared on you.

—

You have him sitting on the couch, watching silently from the chair across the room as he finishes wrapping his leg with the bandages from the first-aid kit you’d provided.

More like chucked at his gut.

No one had said a word, and the air was as tense as a noose—choking any oxygen that traveled into your throat. Simon was getting blood all over your flat cushions, the crimson saturating the fabric as you sit rail-rod straight, hand clenched on your thighs.

Simon’s avoiding your eyes.

“Take off the mask,” you hiss, pupils slits. If he wasn’t going to address it, then you were. Simon freezes, not breathing as his hands fall stationary around the bandages.

“I’ll be fine in a while—”

“Take off your fucking mask, Simon.” You can’t help the way you snap, face burning with shame and hate. How dare he show up now, after all of these years of mourning him and the relationship you’d built as kids. Simon wasn’t just your boyfriend—your fiancé—he was your best friend.

And all he’d done was left you a four-fucking-letter note before leaving you behind.

The geared man sighs silently, and you see his shoulders sag. His grip travels up as he straightens his spine in a fluid motion, pain medication working through him in waves of numbness.

His brown eyes bore through you as if he were a ghost. Under the fabric, his mouth thins. “Ma’am.”

Even his voice is older. More dead. How could this be your Simon?

Your heart bruises your ribcage as he grasps the top of his skeletal mask, gloved fingers peeling back the sown layers until you get the full image of a man more damaged than before. You have to stop yourself from sobbing right then and there; your throat going dry.

So many scars. Milky white and spread vastly—they weren’t pretty. Up his cheeks, down his brow line; even at the corner of his mouth and seeping down his neck. A crooked nose with damaged cartilage. Strangling a gasp, it comes out as a great expelling of horror, eyes going wide with shock.

You hate how you want to rush to him, take his face in your hands, and try to brush them away as if marks on paper. But you don’t make any such movements beyond a hunch of your shoulders.

“Not pretty, eh? Guess I should’ve warned you.” Simon rubs at his forehead, blond locks, hanging around his temple, and the black of face-paint stuck in his sockets. “Didn’t mean to fuckin’ drop in like this, Ember. Bloody bastard thing for me to do.”

You flinch at the name, looking away as you’d been peeling back his skin with your eyes. “What are you doing here, Simon?” Anyone with a brain could hear the cracking hardness in your words. Face blank.

He studies your features, taking in the changes and the bleakness of your expression. Brows furrow slightly before they go back to a state of nothingness. Simon glances around the room, finding the condition of things concerning but doesn’t show it.

“Nothin’ you need to worry about comin’ back to you, Sweetheart. Just work.”

“It is when the bastard who abandoned me shows up years later, bloody on my doorstep. Stop acting so self-righteous,” you growl, snapping, “I should toss your arse outside and let them have you. And don’t fucking call me that.”

Silence descends, and your words echo. It’s like now that he was here everything hurt ten times more than when he wasn’t.

“I never wanted us to end up like we did—”

“Bullshit!” You’re on your feet and stalking to him, pointing with your finger as he hurriedly stands up as well and looks down in shock as you press your digit into his bulky vest. “You shut your mouth, Simon Riley, and you let me explain something to you.”

He keeps silent, mouth parted and scars shifting around his stubble. His hands slightly held out at his sides and hovering over your hips—not touching you but there just in case. Simon’s brown ords are carefully widened at your tight exclamation. The sound of his clearing throat enters the living room before you speak again.

“I waited for you, hoped and prayed that you would show me at least a,” your throat bunches, but you push through. “A modicum of respect and show your stubborn self up at my door with apology flowers and a guilty smile on your lips. You know who took care of your family's burial plots, you fucking piece of shit,” his eyes flinch closed a bit, turning his head down as his breath hitches. “Me! You fucking disappeared!”

You know you shouldn’t be yelling, shouldn’t be pounding on his chest with a fist as if he was a door and you the knocker, but, dammit, it’s been years and he just shows up? Like this? Ten times the size he was—scarred and torn to shreds; laced with muscles and an expression of vacancy. Simon holds to your words, hanging off of them with a down-ward turned chin and eyes that lock with yours through pale lashes.

“Maybe I-I did, o…or pushed some things that I shouldn’t have,” you hold back your tears, but your voice still wavers, tapering off like a line without a hook, “but I didn’t deserve that, Simon.” The first traitorous sob breaks through. “I didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes shatter into a myriad of kaleidoscope bits and pieces, brows flicking from one point on your face to another in quick slashes of guilt. But he still doesn’t touch you. Not until you tell him it’s what you want.

Simon opens his mouth but closes it just as quickly, unable to find any words that would even matter. You let your tears slip down your cheeks, dribbling off your chin. The man’s chest hurts, pulse thumping to mirror yours.

“I waited for you and you broke me,” you whisper, mouth twisting with odium towards the man under your fist. “I wanted a life with you, Simon, no matter the trials.”

“I didn’t mean to…” The man trails off, clenching his jaw. You scoff, backing up a step and pressing your palms into your eyes.

“But you did.”

“I had to keep you safe, Ember.” Simon’s fingers twitch outward, eyes frantically moving around as you sniffle and shakily walk away to the kitchen. He follows, desperately on your heels as your spine bows forward with resounding cries of anguish. “I...I wasn’t right in the head, I need you to understand I didn’t want this! I never wanted to fucking hurt you!”

Your hand connects with the junk drawer, tearing it open and digging a hand inside as he pleads with you to listen.

“If I didn’t leave I was worried I’d do something—!”

“Then you should have trusted me!” Your hands rip out the ring held on a small leather strap. The ruby glints where it always sits, held in tarnished gold. You chuck it at his chest and suck down breaths so you don’t pass out. “I would have listened! Gotten you help! We don’t abandon the ones we love, Simon! Not us!”

Simon catches the object by slapping a hand to his chest, pinky finger latching through the leather cord before he jerks his limb back up. When he looks at the ring, he goes utterly still, gazing back up at you slowly.

“We were supposed to be different,” you sob, trapping it behind your hands. He’s shaking, brows tight and lines along his face as he brings a free hand to run through his locks, gripping the strands for a moment and pulling. “Simon,” you say again, and he looks back at you with glossy eyes. “We were supposed to be better.”

“What did I do to you to deserve that,” he stares, his jaw is loose and he can’t stop clenching and unclenching it. You can see his heart working through his breast. Bloodied. Beaten by fists and slashed with knives. “What did I do to you?”

“Nothing,” he gasps, taking a step forward. “Fuck, Ember, you didn’t bloody do anything to me besides love me.”

You sputter out, “Then why did you leave me here alone?” Your knees buckle and he darts forward, catching you under the arms as you wail out, shoving on his waist, “You never should have come back. Never should have come back.”

He lets you push him off; lets you back up to the counter as Simon tilts his head higher to stave off the tears in the sides of his eyes. He’d known coming here was a bad idea, for lack of a better word, but after the Op went bad and all of his safe houses were compromised, he didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t to say he didn’t regret his actions in the past with you, or that he didn’t punish himself for them, yet at the time it was the only thing he could do to give him the sense that you would be better without him. Safe.

After everything that had happened, he wasn’t in the right state of mind anymore. You deserved so much better. But hearing all of this…

Christ, could he have been wrong? Everything blurred; hurt. Hearing your sobs was like a knife to his heart every time, digging and cutting with serrated edges at the veins and pumping muscle, carving away flesh to shed the pounding redness to light. You held that heart in your hand and in his he held the ring—the ring he’d given to you as a promise of love and honor.

A pact of loyalty.

Simon doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the blurring edges of his vision make itself known. His eyes bore harshly, prodding into you as he makes known what he’s been broken since he first locked gazes with you again. The man’s voice shakes, accent deep and tight.

He asks the first thing that comes to his head.

“What happened to your eyes?”

“What?” You ask, incredulously, brows furrowed as your hand digs into the counter to keep you upright. Simon stares deeper, the sides of his eyelids wrinkling with a not-so-hidden sheen of great concern. Unbearable pain.

“What happened to your bloody eyes?” Where had the spark gone? That flare that grew and spread like fire that was the entire purpose behind your name. An unconquerable ache for life.

You only watch him with a parted mouth and tear-stained lashes, sniffling. Simon tries again, taking a step forward on unsteady feet.

“Please, Sweetheart, d…don’t, don’t…” He can’t finish, the leather cord intertwined into his fingers as he comes closer. “Don’t tell me I took it away. Not my Ember. Not my Girl’s fire.”

Your eyes are so overflowed you can’t even see him as he hovers over you, fingers coming up to brush your cheeks as his mouth is open in hard pants of breath. “No, no, no. Fuckin’ bastard, not me. Not over me, please.” It’s like Simon’s not even talking to you but rather himself.

He mutters in fast sentences, eyes panicked. “You were supposed to be better off—‘posed to move on. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you find someone else?”

“You’re an idiot, Simon. An idiot,” you sag into his neck, nose digging into his pulse as he quivers, legs having to reset themselves. His heat melts into you as your body gives out with a final sob, “It was always going to be you.”

His arms snap around you like a vise, dragging you into him as he breaks and stifles his whimper on your scalp, breathing right by your ear; gasping for breath.

“M’sorry,” he mutters, so silent below his sniveling stutters, “M’so sorry, Sweetheart. This is all my fucking fault.”

You shake into his chest, face nuzzling and desperate to smell his scent again—tired from all the yelling and fighting. It was still late, you still needed to go to work tomorrow…but Simon.

Oh, Simon. How could he be so…him?

Your sobs are quieter than his, tiny cries that make the man’s arms tighten around you every time. Hands coming up, you can’t stop the way you want to hold him; how you wish to keep him close to you and push him away all at once. How dare he?

How dare he still make you love him after all he’d put you through?

Simon sags to the floor with you in his hold, head bowed and trying to gasp down his vulnerability as tears stain your shoulder. It’s as if the realization that he’d made a mistake had broken him back down to when he was young, past hatred of messing up infesting his brain like maggots. A fear of it, even.

The man presses quick, panicked kisses to your neck as his breath hitches every other second, rocking you back and forth.

“Didn’t mean to do it,” Simon utters. “Didn’t mean for it to hurt you—”

He breaks off and you realize that despite the years Simon’s mind was still very much fragile when it came to home life. You blink and take a deep breath, unable to get out of his unrelenting grip.

Your hand travels up to find the back of his head, spreading through his hair and massaging his flesh. When things got bad you used to do this with him. Give the man something to focus on so he could pass through his hysteria quicker.

Simon’s ribcage bangs against yours, nearly hyperventilating with how he’s trying to hide his small grunts and whines.

“Simon,” you clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down as seriousness sets in your tone. “Simon, breathe.”

Your ears twitch, noticing him listen to you as he takes down a long gasp of air and breathes out in puffs on your neck—hot and humid.

“Ember…”

“Shh,” interrupting, you shush him in tiny whispers, still rubbing at his head. “Brown-Eyes, just sit here, okay?” You feel a jerky nod, his fingers squeezing your flesh off and on as he mimics your own lung pattern.

It’s a few minutes before he goes completely still again, and you feel the burn of shame from his face in your clutch. The relationship was strained—or whatever you could call this—but you never wanted to see him in pain. Never.

You knew he was better when he sighs deeply, completely going limp in your arms; great weight leaning into you as you lean back to the cabinets to help with the pure might of his physique. With a slow hand, you un-velcro his vest and his gear, letting it hit the floor with dull thumps and clatters.

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t move to help or hinder. You would give anything to know what he was thinking.

“M’sorry,” Simon whispers and you respond accordingly, softly.

“You’ve already said that, Love.” He grunts, taking in a long, deep breath.

“Need you t’know it.”

“...I do.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes and stave off your anger at everything happening right now. While it would feel better to yell at him until dawn, what would that even achieve? Everything had needed to be said, had been. And you’d never felt lighter than at this moment.

You knock your head against him, the both of you panting for breath and hands vibrating with leaving adrenaline. Sweaty and twitchy.

“You never should have done that, Simon.” Whispering, you sigh. “I needed you. I needed you here. With me.” He stays still, but you feel his lips press deeper into your pulse. You’re practically in his lap, back to the woodgrain.

In a moment of weakness, or pure longing, you pull his head back and situate your hands at his cheeks, looking over his scars and his broken skin as he lets you move him how you wish. His half-lidded, red, eyes stare—grip around you not letting up.

Simon doesn’t speak as, unprompted, you kiss the shattered bridge of his nose; you only feel the fluttering of his lashes as they tickle your cheeks.

“I was scared of myself.” He mutters. “After they died…” His family. “I didn’t want to put you in danger, Ember. Not you.”

“We would have figured it out, Simon. You know that, deep down, you do.” Brown eyes find yours as you tilt his head.

“You sure?” He asks, desperate for an answer even though he doesn’t know himself.

Thumbs run up and down his stubble. Your face creases, “...I don’t know. But we could have tried.”

Simon’s eyes close tightly, and his face tilts to press his lips to your palm, quivering breath exhaled with the strength of an open balloon. Your ring was still stuck in his digging grip, and it was never going to leave for the rest of the night.

“Yeah,” he whispers, gravely voice lax.

Studying him now, in this light, knowing he was so afraid of what he might do if he got into an episode, you were stabbed with agony in your heart. To be that afraid of yourself to that magnitude was nearly unimaginable to you.

Nearly.

“What now?” You ask lowly, the last remnants of tears drying as Simon opens his eyes slowly, looking back at you.

“Don’t know.” He admits. “I have to leave.”

“I have work tomorrow,” you relate. Your teeth find your lip, biting it.

A small awkward chokehold captures the both of you. The reality was that both of you were akin to strangers again—such was the curse of lost years and trials you’d faced along the way.

Brown-Eyes and Ember were dead, yet you still called their names like phantoms of sleek black fabric and chained recollections of a boy with red cheeks and a girl with muddy shoes. The walks to school were there, the dates, and the late nights spent in good company. Touches to skin and open-mouthed kisses. Fireflies that whizzed and the glinting of gold as wind ran through the willows.

Dark corruption stained the faint idea of happiness; of a good world. This was not reality. It was some joke of an existence.

If life were fair, Simon Riley would have never grown up in that house—his father wouldn’t have latched onto his brother and done dark deeds to wrap the little brown-eyed boy in red tissue paper and barbed wire. A present and sheen of mild sociopathy; separation of any pain or torment. A fighting boy. A boy born with blood on his hands and stuck behind his eyes every time he swung a fist.

It was a curse to love him. And it was a curse that burned your soul with his very name.

“Are you going to go?” You ask, eyes blank but yearning for what little comfort you can grab. It had been so long. Simon blinks, his head still in your hands; body not moving.

He knows he should. He isn’t sure if there’s anything left for him here or not.

Simon connects his head to yours and you still. “Do you want me to?”

“Do you love me?” You blurt, blinking at him and confused. Simon’s lips part. “Or if you walk out that door do I plan on never seeing you again?”

You're about to open your mouth and continue before his own slots perfectly against it.

You gasp lightly, taken aback but in no way opposed. He still felt exactly the same, flesh still tasting metallic and tinged with violence down to his DNA; raised with survival instincts as his greatest ally. Until you.

With you survival became secondary.

Your hands go to card through his hair, latching and lightly pulling as Simon’s body shivers; growling against your lips in a dance of heated flesh and damp cheeks. Hearts hammer with the restraint of years.

“I would never make you beg for my love,” he murmurs between lapsing passes of his mouth, open kisses and dark glances. “Tell me where you want me to be.”

You whimper against him and he goes back in, pressing the base of your skull to the cabinet as hands grip and slide, kneading your skin.

“Tell me,” Simon whispers. Pleads through grunts. “Ember, tell me.”

“Here,” you admit brokenly, pulling him closer to you as you’re lifted and placed on the countertop. “I need you here, Simon. I need you with me.”

Fingers capture your chin, keeping your head angled up as your eyes beg. Lips bush with every word, gazes wild as if two leopards locking jaws over a kill.

“Fight to get me back.” Brown sparks with purpose, a small puff of air hitting your mouth as eyes darken over. In this moment, you do not know if you’re dying or living. “Make it right.”

“Affirmative.” Simon moves his head back, taking your ring and looping the cord around his neck, he keeps it there as you watch, breathless. Your face creases with question. The man’s lips flicker when he sees this, coming back and grasping your hips as you instinctually latch to his waist.

“I’ll give it back when I’ve earned the right for you to be called mine again. Seems I have work to do, Sweetheart.” He kisses you once more, firm and true. “First, I’ll ‘ave to figure out if my Girl can get her spark back, yeah? I’ve proper gone and fucked it up.”

That night you lay in the heap of limbs and sheets that couple the both of you together. In the morning the questions would start, and Simon knew you’d take nothing short of the truth.

And he’d give you it. All of it.

Because Simon Riley knows well enough that you don’t go and bite the hand that feeds twice. Certainly not when it was you. Certainly not when it offers a love he would never hope to find again, in this life or the next.

So you keep the other close and sag into a deep slumber, not to wake for a long, long time.

And you’d both never slept better

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