stuff i like @catsruntheclowder - Tumblr Blog

Synopsis: he seems quite irritated by the club scene and keeps to himself despite the constant attention he receives from the other waitresses. Perhaps you can break his shell.

bro santa x hostess!reader

Content: afab!reader, single dad!Bro, mentions of grief and coping with familial deaths, soft sex, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, size kink (w/c:11.9k)

Your job as a hostess meant you have developed quite a repertoire with your clients.

Essentially, you’re paid to keep your clients company. Your job mostly entailed just talking with people, pouring drinks, and playing the occasional flirt. And most of your customers simply enjoyed having someone to converse with.

You played the part of a companion for a few hours, made good money, and someone was happy to have someone share their deepest secrets with. Even if most of the time you couldn’t care less, and you were quietly judging some of the scandalous things your clients told you.

But what every one of your clients had in common was simply the desire for intimacy. Or at least, an illusion of it.

However, after being in the business for a while, you realize nothing is truly 100% genuine. People’s intentions. Your interest in your client’s lives. Certainly not love.

Or at least, that’s what you convinced yourself before a particular client came along.

“Tonight’s gonna be a long night.” Beside you, your pink-haired coworker heaved out a sigh. “I should’ve called off, but if I take too many more days off, that asshole will think I’m trying to skip out on my payments again.”

“Who, Tamsy?” You ask, peeking back at your friend through the mirror as you finish up your makeup.

“Who else?” Mildretta groaned. She adjusts her tie before slamming her locker shut. “I can’t wait to be done with this stupid debt, and I can quit this embarrassing job.”

You give her a pitying smile.

You both worked at the Sphere as hostesses, aka glorified babysitters, according to Mildretta.

The Sphere was the most high-end club and bar in all of Tokyo, meaning it attracted some of the wealthiest and most successful businessmen from around the city. Unlike regular waitresses, your job was to keep clients company and offer the illusion of companionship for a few hours.

How you made most of your money was getting a client to rack up a bill in drinks or food, and through tips. With the tax bracket most of your customers were in, it was not uncommon for them to spend money like it was Monopoly money. Once, you had a client buy a 20,000¥ bottle of Champagne just because.

The job was also strictly non sexual. Well, there were no rules about taking any clients to bed off the clock, but while on the clock, your boss had a strict no fraternizing policy. It was more so in place to protect his workers from sleazy patrons who had one too much to drink or ulterior motives. Once, a gentleman touched you without permission, and he was kicked out of the club with his membership promptly revoked.

With that in place, you honestly couldn’t say that you completely hated your job. And you honestly didn’t harbor the same hate toward Tamsy as Mildretta did. He wasn’t a good man, but he was a good boss. And sure, while you were technically employed to pay off the debt you’d be saddled with after your so-called father racked up an obscene amount of gambling debt before skipping town, Tamsy had been rather lenient with the terms of your contract. After you paid off the debts, not including the interest, you were free to go.

It was either that or deal with the loan sharks.

“Why don’t we play a game to make the night go by faster?” You suggest. You finish your lipstick before closing your locker.

“What are we, five?” Mildretta scoffs.

“Oh, so you’re scared?” You clearly strike a nerve from the way she scowls. Given her competitive streak, you knew she’d never shy away from a challenge, no matter the conditions. “Tonight, we are supposed to be hosting a large party in the Sapphire Room. Whoever ends up with the biggest tip by the end of the night wins a favor from the loser.”

“Biggest tip huh?” Mildretta seems to ponder for a while. “From one customer?”

“Yup. Makes it more fun than counting all your tips from the entire night, don’t you think?”

Eventually, she cracks a smile. “Very well. You’re on.”

When you both leave the break room, the woman seems to have a noticeably more energetic pep to her step, making you shake your head and bite back a laugh. Truly, all it took was a little bet, and now Mildretta was all of a sudden excited to go to work.

For as much as she hated the job, Mildretta was actually really good at it. Every host and hostess had their own aesthetic or vibe. It was more like a role you all fulfilled, and clients could request a specific host/hostess based on what they were looking for in a companion, or more often than not, based on their own personal tastes.

For example, yours was that of the princess type. You played the role of the sweet, friendly hostess who attentively listened to everyone’s woes. Mildretta was popular with the clients who liked the mature and stern type, but you also believe that some men get off on her being mean to them.

As the elevator descended to the lower level of the club, the music grew deafening. The colorful lights were blinding, and the air heavy with the scent of booze as you and Mildretta tried to push through the dancing bodies to the VIP lounge marked with a silvery blue plaque.

The Sapphire Room lounge is luxurious, though small, with plush chairs and fancy faux-fur carpeting, encircling a small stage set up with a silver pole that stretches to the ceiling. The bar’s stationed to the far side of the wall, with a few bartenders still setting up. Mildretta immediately veers toward the bar, asking for a drink.

Before you could join her, your phone suddenly began to ring.

Upon seeing the name flash, you quickly answer.

“Hello? Guita, is everything alright?” You try to hide the twinge of panic in your tone, but you know she wouldn’t normally call unless something happened.

“Y/n,” she sniffles, and your heart drops. “Can you please tell the babysitter that you said I could have ice cream before dinner as long as I did my chores?”

If only you could reach through the phone and strangle her.

Guita was your little cousin whom you’ve had custody of since she was eight. Well, technically, your shitty dad had custody after her parents passed away in a car accident, but once he skipped town, you took her in despite only being 23, having no child-rearing experience whatsoever, and having a dead-end job as a waitress. Then, when you were saddled with your father’s debt, you had really no choice but to take Tamsy upon his offer to be able to support the two of you.

You tried not to let your little cousin know the full extent of the work you did or why her uncle had suddenly up and left. It wasn’t necessarily that you were embarrassed by your job per se, but Guita had a big mouth on her, and the last thing you wanted was for her to misinterpret your words and tell her classmates or teachers something completely wrong. You always got weird looks from some of the older moms, because they incorrectly assumed that you were Guita’s young, unmarried mother instead of her older cousin.

She also looked up to you greatly, and you tried to maintain a sense of normality in her life, but you couldn’t avoid the late hours you had to work. And though your cousin was now fourteen, you didn’t quite trust her to be by herself so late into the night. Usually, your neighbor’s daughter would watch her when your shifts stretched overnight, a teenager named Riyo.

Although Riyo was only a couple of years older, Guita enjoyed her company and considered her largely like an older sister instead of a babysitter. And of course, you always paid Riyo for the time she spent sitting with Guita.

“Guita, I’m at work,” you sigh. “I said don’t call unless it’s an emergency.”

“But it is an emergency,” Guita huffs. “It’s a matter of desserts on the line here. And Riyo isn’t budging.”

“Because the last time you got me in trouble for letting you have cake so late into the night!” You hear Riyo yell in the background.

“Guita…” you run a hand through your hair, annoyed. You look across and see the first wave of clients entering the lounge. “Fine. Whatever. Just be sure to brush your teeth before bed. Now I really have to go.”

“Yes!” Guita cheers. “Thank you! Bye, y/n! Love you! Riyo! You hear? She said yes—“ the line goes dead.

As much as you loved your little cousin, she sure had a knack for manipulating her way. Sometimes, it was easier to go along with it than to argue with her.

You couldn’t help but feel the smallest twinge of guilt staring at the wallpaper on your phone screen at a late time. The picture was of you and Guita during Halloween, and she had insisted on being a kaiju. So you had searched all over hell’s creation to be able to find a onesie for her that fit. It was worth it, though, given how happy she was.

All you did was for her sake, you reminded yourself. You were working to provide her the life she deserved and to keep that smile on her face.

Pocketing your phone, it takes you two strides to reach the bar as the first clients of the evening enter the lounge. Mildretta’s already taken her drink and sat down on one of the sofas next to a man with greying hair who seems all too happy to be crammed against the chair’s arm when she spreads her legs out. You put the sickeningly fake, yet sweet, smile on your face as you approach one of the gentlemen at the bar.

This was the part of the job you disliked.

The small talk.

It wouldn’t be so bad if people actually talked about things that were interesting. This particular gentleman droned on and on about nothing but work and a competitor he despised. The next man you talked to openly boasted about his affair with his receptionist, real scum if someone asked you. And the next client after that was no better, openly flirting with you despite your evident discomfort and attempts to laugh off his requests to take you on a date.

“She already told you no twice, now,” a voice cuts in. “If she has to say no a third time, then that could be your grounds for removal from this establishment for harassment.”

The cocky man sat up straighter with a scowl, thankfully removing his arm from around your shoulder. “We’re just having some fun here. Who do you think you-“ He looks to see who interrupted, before paling slightly.

Mildretta stands behind the couch, arms folded across her chest, with a thoroughly unamused expression written across her face. “Do I need to call security?”

The look on her face alone could’ve been enough, but no one really wanted to face the wrath of Tamsy’s security either. Especially given how on edge he’s been after a famous model was attacked by her stalker on Sphere territory, he’s been a lot less lenient to troublemakers. You’re also convinced that he only hires former yakuza as his bouncers, which makes most of them intimidating to begin with.

Nonetheless, the threat had the man sputtering out some excuse about needing to settle his tab before he scampers off like a dog with its tail tucked behind its legs.

"Thank you," you say while your colleague grumbles something about men being idiots under her breath. "You really didn't have to, though."

At that, Mildretta scoffs. "They all know the rules of this place. If they can't follow them, then they can get lost. That includes making any of the hostesses uncomfortable."

You merely shrug. "It comes with the job territory, unfortunately."

Now, it was your co-worker's turn to frown. "Just because it's the nature of our job doesn't mean that we need to be treated as less than.”

Someone calls for Mildretta, another clearly drunk client, so she gets pulled away before you respond, thankfully so. Part of you feels like she doesn’t understand. While you didn’t necessarily hate your job, it doesn’t mean that it would’ve been your first choice when looking for work. You were simply doing what you had to do to provide for your little cousin, and that meant putting up with even the less appealing parts of the job.

Mildretta played the role of the intimidating hostess, so it was expected of her to be combative and harsh. You didn’t have that luxury. It would break the fantasy you’re supposed to be portraying. And you couldn’t afford to potentially get in trouble, as it could cost you a job.

No, you just had to grin and bear it.

You look around the lounge. For the most part, most of the clients appear engaged in conversation with each other or one of the hosts/hostesses. It was to be expected, you supposed. After all, most businessmen truly came to the Sphere to conduct their deals. From what you’ve gathered by talking to previous customers, Tamsy has a strict no-violence policy, making the Sphere a neutral ground. It was effective at managing troublemakers for the most part because it ensured everyone remained on their best behavior, lest they want their membership revoked.

Sitting in the far corner of the lounge at a small table by the bar, you notice a man sitting by himself. He was dressed impeccably in a navy tailored suit. He appears older than the guy you were talking to earlier, with a dark beard and long hair to match. Most notably, however, was how bored he looked as he scrolled through his phone.

Squaring your shoulders, you place the fake smile back on your face, channeling the inner princess you’re supposed to embody. Then, you approach him.

“Hello!” You internally cringe from how high-pitched your voice comes out. A little too sweet. Too clearly fake. If the man noticed, he thankfully doesn’t comment on it, still engrossed in his phone. “You’re sitting here all by your lonesome. Would you care for some company?”

He looks up, his eyes widen in surprise as if he just realized that you were there. The man looks between you and his phone, then to the rest of the lounge, before almost comically pointing to himself with arguably the most adorably confused expression on his face. “I’m sorry, are you talking to me?”

Without meaning to, you let out a little laugh. “I do believe it’s just the two of us, unless there’s an invisible ghost or something that I’m not aware of?”

Bashfully, the man runs a hand down the back of his neck. “Sorry. I—uh…” He sheepishly holds up his phone. “I have a sitter at home, and I’m trying not to be that paranoid parent who demands an update every thirty minutes, but…” he glances around the room before a seemingly annoyed expression settles across his face. “…this is kind of running longer than I initially was told.”

You couldn’t quite explain it, but despite his tall stature, something about him radiated a sense of gentleness. “I know the feeling.” You gesture to the empty seat across from him. “Mind if I sit?”

“By all means.” His phone lights up with a notification then. After reading it, he visibly relaxes. “Oh, good. The sitter doesn’t mind staying longer.”

“That’s always a relief,” you say, readjusting the stool. “You truly be feeling bad, but unfortunately, work calls sometimes. How old?”

“Just turned ten,” the man responds. He pockets his phone after sending what you assume is a quick text back to the sitter, then picks up his half-drunk glass of what might be scotch or whiskey. “You?”

“Fourteen. I know she’s probably old enough to stay by herself, but I don’t like her being alone when I have to work late.”

“Fourteen?” You’re used to the confused looks. Given that you were only twenty-nine, quick math and your young appearance often raised questions. But thankfully, he didn’t regard you with the usual judgment most people tend to have when you tell them that you’re Guita’s guardian.

“Technically, I have custody of my cousin,” you explain. A waitress comes by and sets a water on your table, but both of you decline to order anything else. “I’ve been her sole legal guardian for six years now. It’s tough, but we make do.”

“Ah, I see.” He takes a small sip of his drink. “Guess we’re in pretty similar boats then. My…uh…wife passed away due to complications during birth, so it’s been just my son and me since day one.”

You swallow thickly, lead settling in your chest. You were used to customers spilling their life stories, and usually, you’ve mastered the generic response to not seem too dismissive but not seem too interested.

For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to be unempathetic, and inexplicably, a sense of sadness washes over you. Perhaps it’s because you could sympathize with his situation. After all, you were quite literally in a similar boat, though you’d never been married. While you couldn’t imagine the pain he probably felt of losing a lover, being an unexpected single parent was something you could relate to.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You don’t have to be,” the man says kindly. “I still have a piece of her through my son.” A rather bashful smile spreads across his face. “Though, I guess you could see why I’m a worrywart when it comes to him.”

“I’ve been told I tend to be smothering, so I think I understand the sentiment.”

The two of you share a laugh, something that comes so naturally that it surprises you.

“Um, I’m y/n by the way,” you say, extending a hand out, which the man shakes.

“You can call me Bro.”

Bro hated after-work events.

His work as an attorney already led to him working long hours, as it is, but he tried his best to have a decent work-life balance. Especially when it came to raising his son and trying to ensure that he was an active father.

The entire firm knew that come five o’clock, Bro was on his way out the door. Not a second later. That way, he could get to the station, an eight-minute walk away, on time to catch the 5:15 train, make the hour commute from Shibuya to Tachikawa, and be back by 6:30 for a reasonable dinner.

Still, it was sometimes inevitable that these after-work networking events occurred. Most of the time, Bro could escape when his colleagues would go out to the izakaya. However, because the firm was in the middle of major negotiations with a potential share buyer on behalf of their top client, Corvus Capital, and Bro arguably had the most seniority, he unfortunately couldn’t weasel his way out of attending the scheduled meeting at the Sphere.

If he were to be completely honest, Bro hated clubs and bars. Perhaps it was just the fact that he was getting older, and noisy places started to annoy him. But he also hated the way people changed when surrounded by alcohol and undeniably attractive men and women.

For the most part, Bro had kept to himself. Rather early into the night, he and the potential shareholder had discussed the terms necessary and agreed to be in contact further over the coming weeks. And with that wrapped up, Bro wanted nothing more than to head home as soon as possible, relieve his sitter Eishia from her duties, and ideally spend some time with his son, Dear, before he would go to bed for school.

Alas, Bro had to stay for the duration of the party; it would look quite bad if the top attorney representing the Corvuses didn’t play proper host. He was told the party would last until nine-thirty. But as the hour stretched closer to eleven, he began growing antsy.

Even if he left now, it’d take more than an hour to drive all the way home. Bro felt bad doing so, but he sent a text to Eishia, asking if she wouldn’t mind staying a couple of hours longer with double pay for the overtime. If she couldn’t or simply didn’t want to, after all, she was a busy student herself, he wouldn’t blame her.

In that case…well, Bro would have to find an alternative asap.

Initially, he doesn’t notice your approach, too focused on his phone as the minutes tick by with no response from Eishia. Bro tried not to let his panic consume him. After all, Eishia was very responsible. Perhaps Dear and her were watching a movie or maybe baking cookies that required her full attention. That sounded better instead of immediately jumping to the worst-case scenario.

"You’re sitting here all by your lonesome. Would you care for some company?” A sweet-sounding voice said. Bro startled slightly. When he looks up from his phone, you're standing before him.

Momentarily, Bro is at a loss for words.

The one word he'd use to describe you would be beautiful. Like a princess stepping straight from a fairy tale, your makeup was soft and delicate. Similar to most of the staff, you wore a variation of the uniform that revealed your slender legs with a button-down shirt that hugged your figure in the best ways.

There was no doubt that you were one of the infamous hostesses. Bro didn't particularly have a problem with any of them. His colleagues often raved about how good company some of the hostesses at the Sphere made. But, if he were to be honest, he wasn't quite in the mood for needless small talk, nor did he really want to spill his life story to a stranger. Let alone someone who was merely paid to talk to him.

Realizing he was staring, Bro quickly looked away, turning his gaze to his phone before looking around the room, then back to you once he realized that everyone else was preoccupied with their own individual conversations. He pointed to himself shyly. “I’m sorry, are you talking to me?”

You laugh. Bro's breath hitched ever so slightly, and he hoped the flush that burned his ears didn't show on his face. The sound...was cute.

“I do believe it’s just the two of us, unless there’s an invisible ghost or something that I’m not aware of?”

Bashfully, Bro ran a hand down the back of his neck. “Sorry. I—uh…” He holds up his phone. “I have a sitter at home, and I’m trying not to be that paranoid parent who demands an update every thirty minutes, but…” Bro glances around the room, trying not to make an annoyed face at the event that seemed to show no signs of ending. “…this is kind of running longer than I initially was told.”

“I know the feeling.” You say, surprising Bro. You then gesture to the empty seat across from him. “Mind if I sit?”

“By all means.” His phone lights up with a notification then.

Eishia: Hi, Bro! I don't mind staying! Would it be okay if I just spent the night, so my grandmother doesn't have to come get me?

Eishia: Also! Dear's already fallen asleep, haha. [Image sent]

Bro: Of course! Please make yourself comfortable in the guest room and help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen. I'm really sorry to keep you so late. I'll compensate you for the overnight

Eishia: Oh, no! It's fine, really!

After reading it, Bro visibly relaxes. “Oh, good. The sitter doesn’t mind staying longer.”

“That’s always a relief,” you say, readjusting the stool. “You truly be feeling bad, but unfortunately, work calls sometimes. How old?”

“Just turned ten,” Bro responds. After sending a text back to Eishia to insist that he would be paying her for the overtime, he picks up his half-drunk glass. “You?”

“Fourteen. I know she’s probably old enough to stay by herself, but I don’t like her being alone when I have to work late.”

“Fourteen?” Bro doesn't mean to sound judgmental. It's just...you look so young. Granted, he's not the best at guessing ages, and he knows everyone's circumstances are different, but if you were even thirty, he'd be surprised.

“Technically, I have custody of my cousin,” you explain. “I’ve been her sole legal guardian for six years now. It’s tough, but we make do.”

“Ah, I see.” Bro takes a small sip of his drink. “Guess we’re in pretty similar boats then. My…uh…wife passed away due to complications during birth, so it’s been just my son and me since day one.”

Talking about his late wife was...hard.

Bro's been in therapy for it for years, and grief never got any easier to deal with. Some days were better than others. Then there would be that one day that everything reminds him of his late wife, and it takes every ounce of his strength to hold it together.

For Dear's sake, he tried not to shy away from talking about his mother. After all, his son would never truly know her, but Bro didn't want to make it seem like it was forbidden for him to ask about her.

His therapist encouraged Bro to let Dear set the terms. Engage if he was interested, but don't push if he wasn't. Dear always seemed curious about his mother's pictures and recently took an interest in some of her old books and jewlery, but Bro knew that deep down, there was a disconnect.

Still, even though she was his mother, she was equally a stranger to Dear. That in itself was the hardest thing for Bro to come to terms with: that Dear would never really see his mother the way Bro did.

Bro never really tried to replace Dear's mother either. He'd dated casually, but until he became more established in his attorney career and had to rely mostly on sitters as he didn’t really help from family due to them being out of the country, Bro couldn't really commit to anything seriously. Plus, his focus had and would always be Dear. Something that some partners weren't always the most accepting of.

Not that it would change Bro's mind. His son would always be his first priority.

“I’m sorry for your loss," you say, voice soft. Something akin to sadness crosses your beautiful features, making Bro feel guilty. He truly wasn't looking for your pity.

“You don’t have to be,” he says. “I still have a piece of her through my son.” A smile spreads across his face. “Though, I guess you could see why I’m a worrywart when it comes to him.”

“I’ve been told I tend to be smothering, so I think I understand the sentiment.”

The two of you share a laugh, something that comes so naturally that it surprises him.

“Um, I’m y/n by the way,” you say, extending a hand out, which Bro shakes.

“You can call me Bro.”

The two of you fall into such an easy conversation that the time passes by with ease. The night that was once dragging on for both of you now speeding by in the blink of an eye. The topics of the conversation drifted from one to the next with no clear rhyme or reason.

One moment, Bro is sharing about Dear's stellar academic performance thus far in the fifth grade, like the proud dad he is. Next, you're sharing a funny story from Halloween where you and Guita dressed up as Kaiju, only to learn that the body paint you both used would not come off after the fact.

"My boss was not happy that I came to work with pink body paint still on my face," you manage to say in between your laughter. "I managed to convince him we could do a last-minute themed night in honor of Halloween. I think that idea spared me from being fired that night. People apparently really love a pink-themed vampire."

Bro's body shook with his own laughter, the deep rumble of it filling your stomach with warm butterflies. God, you think you could maybe become obsessed with the sound of it.

"I swear, sometimes we as parents go through the damndest things to make the kids happy," he chuckles. "Did I tell you that when Dear was in first grade, I got volunteered to play the tree in his school play?"

"The tree?" You wheeze. "Why?"

Bro shook his head. "I was unfortunately the tallest parent in the class. It also didn't help that Dear was insanely shy, so the only way to convince him to participate was if I got on stage with him."

"Tell me you have a picture?"

He pulls out his phone and spends a couple of seconds searching for the picture before showing it to you. Though the initial mental image made you laugh until your sides hurt, seeing the actual photo of him dressed in a silly oak tree costume, leaves strewn about his hair, next to a small child dressed as a butterfly, your heart can't help but swoon at the heartwarming image.

Bro's son favors him greatly, even though he's half Japanese. He has round eyes and curly hair that you wonder if he inherited from his father. You're assuming the child's light eye color comes from his mother. In the picture, his son slightly hides behind Bro, despite his evident attempts to get him to pose for the camera.

"Your son looks a lot like you," you say with a smile as you hand him back the phone.

"We get that a lot," Bro responds. "People say he looks more like me the older he gets, but I think he's got more of his mother's features." At the mention of his late wife, you note the fondness in his eyes. The way he regards the memory, it's evident not only that he loved her, but Bro truly misses her.

"I bet she would be happy to know how much effort you're going through to ensure your son has a good life, even if that means taking up the role of tree no. 2."

Bro chuckles. "I'm sure the same could be said of your aunt and uncle for taking in your cousin." Glancing at his watch, he then quickly downs the rest of his drink. "It's already midnight. It truly was nice talking to you, but if this event doesn't wrap up soon, I’m afraid I might sneak out."

You glance around the room. Some of the people have cleared out, but the Sapphire Room was still relatively crowded. You spot Mildretta on one of the lounge chairs, nursing a drink with a pink flush on her cheeks, clearly marking it as one of many. A few of your other coworkers had started going around cleaning up the empty glasses, while the bartenders worked on closing down tabs.

"I think I was told this ends at one, but I don't think anyone will say anything if you leave now," you say. "I honestly might see if they don't mind I leave early myself, so I can relieve my sitter of her duties."

"Would you like a ride home?" Bro suddenly finds himself asking. When he realizes the implications of what he said, he quickly adds, "That's if you need a way home. It's late after all, so the trains have stopped running, and a taxi would be expensive."

"Um..." you glance down at your phone. You were honestly going to call a ride, but it would definitely save you the extra money. "Sure. If you don't mind me grabbing my things from the break room real quick?"

"Not at all." Bro nods while reaching into his jacket's inner pocket. "I'll go close my tab while you're at it and meet you in the lobby when you’re ready.”

You try not to appear too eager to leave work early as you slip out the back with an approving nod from one of the bartenders. The text you sent Riyo about being on your way went unanswered, so you could only guess that she and Guita had fallen asleep by now. Riyo always insisted that she would stay up until you got home, claiming that she wanted to be alert in the event of an emergency, but you’ve told her countless times that if she were tired, she could go lie in your bed after Guita fell asleep.

After quickly changing out of your uniform, you briefly pause to look at your reflection in the mirror. You would’ve taken your make up off as well if you hadn’t forgotten your wipes, so despite your now casual appearance, the makeup still provided the fantasy facade of your being a host. The frown on your face deepened.

“Someday,” you reminded yourself. “I’ll leave this fantasy behind.”

Grabbing your belongings, you head to the lobby where Bro said he’d wait. You spot him instantly, faltering in your step. He was much taller than you initially realized. He’s not hard to find given how he practically towers over everyone, but that isn’t what gives you pause. Two women wearing seductive dresses are clearly flirting with him. One presses herself against his arm, though Bro stiffly tries to brush her off with a polite smile. The other curls a strand of her hair around her finger, saying something to him that you can’t quite make out from the distance.

You glance at your sweats. They were a goofy Kaiju-themed pair Guita had surprised you with, with the help of Riyo, for your birthday. While they were insanely comfortable and you loved the sentimentality of them, you were not about to approach the impeccably dressed man while two women were currently flaunting themselves in dresses that probably cost more than you made in a year.

“I’m sorry, but I really have to go,” Bro tries to shut the women down kindly. He begins looking around the crowded room, clearly searching for you.

“Awe, but the night is still so young,” the busty brunette, with clearly fake extensions, whines, and Bro tries not to roll his eyes. Even his own son didn’t whine like that. His gaze eventually settles on you, dressed down while holding the straps of your purse. You give a sheepish little wave, and his expression softens.

“Excuse me,” Bro says, this time shoving by with a little more force. “I must go. I have to get home to my son.”

“Wait, son?!”

“Ugh, he has a kid.”

Their quick personality shifts from fawning over him to disdain don’t bother him. Bro ignores their comments and grumbled complaints about how “all the good men had baby mamas.” He tried not to let the last remark irk him though anger coiled in his stomach at the blatant disrespect toward his wife. Not that they would know, nor did Bro truly owe them an explanation. Not like he was looking for company anyway.

Well, he did suppose he enjoyed your presence, and his irritation seemed to melt as he approached you.

“Hi,” you say meekly.

Bro smiles. “Hi. Are you ready to go?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I live all the way in Kodaira.”

“None at all. I live in Tachikawa, so it’s already on the way.” With a gentle hand on the small of your back, he guides you through the lobby toward the elevators that lead down to the parking garage.

It wouldn't be until the next day, when you go to collect your tips from the previous evening, that you find out that Bro had left you a tip of 20,000￥.

“Y/n, hurry up!” Guita urges, nearly pulling your arm out of its socket as she drags you out of the train. You laugh as you stumble to keep up with her.

“Guita, I promise we have time. The movie doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.”

It was your first weekend off in a while. You had Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off, which never happened. So you decided to take full advantage of it and planned to spend the entire weekend with your little cousin. You were even nice enough to call her out of school Friday so that you could spend the full day doing things that she wanted.

After getting up early to have breakfast at your favorite pancake shop before going to get manicures and pedicures together, you headed to Tachikawa to go to the movies. Guita had been begging you to take her to see the new Detective Conan film, but you hadn’t had the time to do so until now.

You manage to calm her down enough to walk a decent pace the rest of the way to the theater, which was just outside a rather large shopping mall. Excitedly, Guita runs up to the little gift shop display, featuring a bunch of Detective Conan merchandise from stationery to themed cups, while you buy your tickets.

“Guita, come here and tell me what snacks you want,” you call. You fumble to put your change in your wallet, so when you turn toward the concession counter, you don’t see the person behind you. The other person quickly steadies you, but you drop some of your loose change in the process. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t—“

“No worries. You aren’t hurt are you?”

You both freeze.

You almost don’t recognize him at first from how casually he’s dressed. His long hair has been braided back, secured with a cloth bandana across his forehead. He’s dressed in oversized baggy clothes a stark contrast to the tailored suit you saw him in a week ago. After Bro had dropped you off at home that night, you hadn’t seen him since. It didn’t surprise you given how out of place he seemed at the Sphere to begin with, but a part of you had been a little disappointed that you hadn’t had the confidence to ask him for his number.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Bro says with a warm smile. He bends down to pick up the yen you dropped before handing it to you. “Fancy running into you.”

Heat warms your cheeks as his fingers brush yours. “You as well. Given that it’s noon on a random Friday, I figured a busy man as yourself would be at work.”

“Well, you’d be right.” He chuckles. “But I decided to take the day off. Dear wanted to see the new Conan movie, so I figured we could use a break.”

“Great minds must think alike,” you say. “Guita had been hounding me about seeing it too, and I actually had the weekend off for once.”

Speaking of the girl herself, your little cousin comes running up to you with an armful of Detective Conan-themed merchandise ."Y/n! Y/n! Can we please get these?"

You sigh. "Guita, no. We were going shopping after the movie, remember?

"Awe..." She pouts. "Can I at least get the matching keychain for my new friend?"

"New friend?"

At that moment, a young boy walks up to Bro and tugs on his shirt. He's got on overalls with sleeves so long that they swallow up his hands. His curly hair was pulled back into several ponytails, and it takes you a couple of seconds to draw the connection of where you knew him from.

"Dear, come on, put that back," Bro sighs when his son holds up to him the same Conan keychain Guita had. Dear huffs, a frown settles on his face before he looks over to Guita with a somewhat apologetic look.

"Pleaseee," Guita begs while tugging at your arm. "I won't ask for any candy with my popcorn."

You don't mention that her argument wasn't very convincing, given that the keychain was more expensive than a small box of candy. Instead, you ask, "Do you two know each other?"

Guita grins. She throws her arm around the smaller boy, who briefly looks startled by her touch, but he doesn't say anything. "We met over at the stand, and we instantly became besties since we have the same favorite character. Which is why, to commemorate, we have to get matching keychains. Isn't that right?" She turns to Dear, who gives an affirmative nod.

"You know, one day you'll make a pretty good lawyer with that argument," Bro chuckles. You shoot him a glare. He was supposed to be on your side in this matter.

Appearing rather pleased with herself, Guita's expression then morphed into one of confusion before she looked between you and Bro. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Immediately, your face burns hot with embarrassment. Beside you, Bro stiffens, the tips of his ears turning pink as he tugs at his collar with an awkward cough.

"N-no, he's uh--"

"I'm just a friend from work," Bro interrupts. "I also happen to be Dear's father. You can just call me Bro."

For some reason, the young girl's eyes seemed to sparkle at this. You don't know what was going on through her head, but whatever potential plot she was scheming, you didn't like it. "Are you going to see the movie with us? Y/n can they?"

"I mean..." You glance over to Bro, offering a sheepish look. "If you don't mind, we'd enjoy the company."

Dear gives Bro the same pleading look that Guita gives you, and ultimately, how could he deny either of them? "I don't see why not," Bro agrees. "And I'll get the two of you the keychains only if you put everything else back where you found it."

"YES! Come on, Dear!" The two of them eagerly run back off to the display. You shake your head.

"Thank you," you tell him. "You didn't have to."

"I know, but I wanted to." Bro's smile softened as he watched his son interact with the older girl. The two of them seemed to reevaluate what keychains they originally wanted. When Guita would hold up a new one to judge, he'd either nod or give a thumbs down with a shake of the head. "Dear doesn't ever make friends this easily, but he opened up to Guita right away. That alone makes it worth it."

You end up spending the rest of the day with the Santas.

You find it so cute how the two have become joined at the hip in such a short time. They insisted on sitting next to each other during the movie, leaving you sitting next to Bro as it was the only seat left. Bro had also bought the popcorn and drinks for everyone, even though you insisted you could pay.

After the movie, you roamed around the shopping mall. You had only really planned to buy new sneakers for Guita since she wore out her old pair during P.E., but somehow you got suckered into buying manga, more hair accessories than she’d truly use, and a Godzilla-themed t-shirt she just had to have from Uniqlo.

Currently, you are stuck at the gashapon machines.

“Ugh! I got a dupe!” Guita groaned after she opened the small capsule to reveal the same exact character she had just pulled. Beside her, Dear looked between the one he had and hers, before offering it. “Do you want to trade?” Dear nods. “No, if you want that one, you can keep it!” Shaking his head, he forcefully shoves it into her palm before taking her duplicate.

“I think Dear wants you two to match,” Bro chimed in, which his son confirms with an affirmative nod. The smile on Guita’s face grows.

“Then match we shall! Y/n, can I try another machine?”

“Sorry, Guita, I think I’m out of 100 yen coins,” you say.

“Aww.”

“Hm, I think I have a couple.” Bro fishes through his wallet and procured two coins for each kid. “Last one, though. After that, it’s time for lunch.”

Eagerly, the two run off, trying to determine which of the many machines they want to use. Bro then hands you a 100 yen coin. You regard him with a playful look.

“What, why not join them?” He shrugs. You shake your head as you laugh, taking the coin from him. You settle on a keychain machine. The capsule that pops out contains a small keychain shaped like a bag of chips.

“I haven’t played with one of these myself since I was a kid,” you admit. Bro puts another coin in the same machine and ends up with the same keychain as yours.

“It’s good to embrace your inner child every once in a while, no?”

Your heart flutters at the smile he gives you, and you quickly look away bashfully.

Bro was so genuinely good-natured. He had been nothing but kind to Guita from the moment he met her, but nothing about his actions seemed fake or forced. And even still, as he treats everyone to lunch and eventually ice cream at the kids’ insistence, you can’t will away the fuzzy feeling in your stomach, no matter how much you try to suppress it.

Later, you and Bro had to deal with both kids begging to have a sleepover.

"I'm okay with it if you are," Bro says. "I'm even willing to host at my place."

With a sigh, you finally relent, which leaves you and Guita back on the train to quickly run home and get her things. An hour later, you find yourself standing in front of a modest Japanese-style home that Bro texted you the address to.

"Now, Guita, make sure you're on your best behavior, and you mind your manners," you remind as the two of you walk up the pathway.

"You're not staying the night, too?" Guita asks. Your brow raises in confusion.

"Why would I stay the night?"

"Because that's what you do when you have a boyfriend, duh." She rolls her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing. Your face heats up.

"W-what? We're not--where did you even hear something like that?"

"Riyo," she says simply.

Before you could respond to that, Dear throws open the door. His eyes widen excitedly, and he runs up to meet Guita, hugging her around her waist.

"Dear, come on, you don't have any shoes on," Bro sighed exasperatedly. He came to the doorway, still dressed in his earlier clothes, though he had let his hair down. Upon seeing you, a smile softens across his face. “Hey, you.”

“Hi,” you say softly. Guita playfully elbows you, and you glare, shoving her back. “What do you say?”

Your cousin beams at the taller man. “Thank you for having me, Bro!”

“Of course. You two go on ahead inside.” Dear pulls Guita along, clearly excited to show her inside. When they were out of earshot, Bro closed the door slightly behind him.

“Thank you for being willing to host her, and um…sorry if this changed any plans you had…” You feel awkward now that it’s just the two of you.

“Truly, it’s not a problem. Dear was sitting by the window the entire time waiting. But, speaking of plans…” Now, Bro’s the one feeling awkward. You swear the faintest hint of pink creeps across his cheeks as he nervously rubs the back of his neck. “If you are free…would you, uh…like to get dinner with me?”

You blink in surprise.

“I-if you aren’t comfortable with Guita being alone, I could see if my usual sitter is available, but the house has a security system. And, I hope I’m not overstepping, but..um…” he’s stumbling over his words now, but you find it cute.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You ask teasingly.

“Granted, I’m a little bit out of practice,” Bro says sheepishly. “But yes. I am. Will you please go out to dinner with me?”

Your chest constricts, stomach warming with those damn butterflies again. When was the last time you actually went on a date? It probably had to have been before you took Guita in. Most potential partners aren't always keen on dating a woman with a kid in her care, and your cousin had been your priority. So, going out on dates had been pushed to the back of your list of concerns.

“Bro.” You offer a smile when he tenses. “I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

Bro visibly relaxes, like he couldn’t believe you’d say yes. “Okay—I mean great! Shall we go soon?”

The kids couldn’t have been less interested when you told them that you were going out for dinner. They both were too engrossed in Mario Kart to care. Although you officially deemed Guita in charge, Bro still set the alarm system, instructing Dear to only turn it off when the pizza he’d ordered for them was delivered.

Since both of you were dressed casually, you opted for just a local izakaya. It wasn’t fancy by any means, but Bro insisted their karaage was to die for, and to be honest, you dealt with enough of the rich and luxury at work. The little hole-in-the-wall shop was a nice change of pace.

With Bro, conversation came so easily, and as cliché as it sounded, it felt like you two had known each other for years. You found yourself letting your guard down more, and you were able to be yourself for once instead of having to play a role or fulfill the fantasy of someone else.

You even find yourself opening up to him about the reason why you’re working at the Sphere, the debts your father left you with, and how Guita truly came into your custody. Through it all, not once does Bro judge you.

“You did what you had to do for your family,” Bro had said. “To me, that’s the most commendable sacrifice you could’ve ever made.”

It felt authentic. It felt nice.

By the end of the night, both of you had a little too much to drink. And you were a giggly mess as Bro walked you back to his place.

“I’m sorry to keep you out so late,” Bro said sheepishly. “Honestly, I didn’t want the night to end.”

You laugh. “It’s okay! I haven’t had this much fun in years.” At that moment, you nearly stumble off your feet. Bro quickly grabs your arm to steady you, pressing you close to his chest. Heat flares across your skin.

“Are you sure you can get home?” Bro swallows thickly. “Maybe you spend the night in the guest room.”

“Can I?” The tension between you two draws tight. A flush spreads across Bro’s face as his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, hesitating.

“At this point.” The tone of his voice goes heavy, hoarse with the desire he was desperately trying to suppress. “You could ask me for the moon, and I’d do my damndest to try to get it for you.”

You close the distance between the two of you, standing on your toes to press your lips against his. And Bro immediately melts at your touch. His hands hover briefly, unsure of where to put them at first, before his arms wrap around your waist. He pulls you closer, cupping your cheek to deepen the kiss. You groan at the taste of his mouth on yours, your knees slightly going weak.

“You know,” you’re breathless when you part. “For someone claiming to be out of practice, you don’t kiss like it.”

At that, he chuckles. "Come on. Let's go inside." The two of you quietly enter the house. The only noise comes from the living room television, which is playing the credits of some movie. Dear and Guita are sprawled out across the couch, both fast asleep.

Bro shows you down the hall to the guest room, pointing out the connected bathroom should you need it. You stop him before he leaves. "Stay."

"Y/n..."

"Please?" You look up at him sweetly, batting your eyelashes. Heat churns through him, rushing south as you step so close that your breasts press against his chest. Swearing under his breath, Bro cups your cheeks and captures your lips with his. You kiss him back with equal need, trying to savor the taste of him as his tongue teases its way through your mouth.

"I see now you're going to be a problem," Bro pants. "You ask me for anything like that, I'm going to break down and give it to you."

"Please stay with me tonight," you repeat, lips gracing his. Bro shudders out an exhale before he kisses you again.

Bro’s hands gently skim your waist, pulling your shirt over your head before guiding you to the bed. Butterflies fluttered in your belly as he pressed a kiss above your naval, the side of your neck, then your jaw.

You cup his cheek and pull him down so that his lips meet yours. You hear him sigh into the kiss. He touches you gently as if he were afraid you’d break. Like if he weren’t careful, you’d disappear right in front of him. You fisted his hair, starting to pull it from its usual braid so that you could feel the strands between your fingers.

Groaning against your mouth, Bro tried to savor the taste of your lips. The smell of your perfume tickles his nose. You fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, and once they’re undone, Bro shrugs the garment off his broad shoulders before taking you into his arms. You're becoming increasingly aware that one of your favorite parts of him was his body. You run your hands over his chest and abdomen, that’s gotten slightly pudgy with age, making him all the more cuddly.

Pulling you closer, he deepened the kiss. His hand traced down your shoulders and over your waist, mapping the shape of you and noting how perfectly you fit against him. When you shivered, the faintest grin graced his lips.

"Such a pretty thing," Bro murmurs. "I almost can't believe that you're real."

"Stop teasing me." You gasp when he pinches your sensitive nipple between his fingers. "Bro~" He covers your mouth when your whimpers get too loud.

"Sorry, mi amor," His voice comes out breathy when he speaks. "But you're gonna have to keep quiet so we don't wake the kids. Can you try to do that for me?" You muster a small nod, making him smile. "Good girl."

Your heart lurches at the endearing nickname, and it continues to pound in your ears as Bro carefully undresses you. He's barely touched you, but your skin feels like it's on fire. It leaves you squirmy as the feeling of him lingers, because he never quite touches you where you want him to, leaving you frustrated and wanting more.

"Bro, please," you whimper softly. Heat pools between your legs, your cunt aching with need. And when his hands dip beneath the waistband of your panties, the last piece of fabric separating you from him completely, Bro groans at how wet you're already for him.

“Just look at how wet you are, and I’ve barely touched you.” Bro wedges one finger into your cunt. His finger slides through with little resistance. Then a second is added, scissoring you slowly so that you feel the stretch of his fingers against your gummy walls. You whimper at the penetration. Your hips involuntarily buck against his hand.

“A-ah—“ you try to cover your mouth, both to keep quiet and to try to hide the embarrassing, needy whimpers that leave your lips. But you can’t help it. Not when he draws lazy circles around your clit there have your toes curling. “B-Bro—“

“That’s it,” Bro coos. He presses a kiss to your cheek before your lips to swallow up your moans. He continues to work you up with his fingers, fucking them into you slowly.

His fingers press against your innermost walls, making more sinful cries leave your lips, which sound heavenly to Bro’s ears. The squelching sound of your wetness each time he moves his fingers sent heat shooting through his body straight to his cock, his stiff arousal beginning to press uncomfortably against his slacks. Bro feels you clench around his fingers, your walls quivering.

“Cum for me, mi amor.” And when you do, you cry so prettily that it nearly has Bro cumming in his own pants. He brings his fingers to his mouth to taste you on them. He groans as your sweetness coats his tongue. Fuck, he could grow addicted to you. “Are you doing okay?” Bro asks, gently caressing your cheek.

Your vision is slightly hazy, with dots flickering in your vision from the post-euphoric bliss. “Fuck. Bro, please. I need more.”

A brief hesitation flickers across his darkened eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Bro,” you say softly. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to steal another kiss. “Yes. Give me all of you.”

The sound of the zipper coming undone has your heart thrumming eagerly. Bro’s almost shy in the way he discards his pants, then his boxers, like he was allowing you to change your mind. He was already a bigger guy to begin with, so you reasonably…assumed…he’d pack a pretty decent-sized package. But you didn’t expect him to be this big.

You gape at the sight of his cock, swallowing nervously--eagerly--as Bro's aching length hits his lower abdomen. How you wanted to drag your tongue and taste the smear of milky pre leaking from the thick red tip. He’s so thick, balls hanging heavy, and you stop yourself from asking if he’s even gonna fit with how self-conscious he looks.

You motion him forward. The bed dipped as he settled into it. “You know, I find it hard to believe you’ve been single this long when you’re packing such a pretty package.”

Bro flushes. “Is that a compliment?”

“Very much so,” you chuckle. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close to kiss. At this point, you were addicted to the way his lips tasted. “Go on. I can take it.”

You both shudder out a moan as the first inch of him tries to breach past your puffy folds. Bro tries to go slow, giving you time to adjust to his size, but you’re impatient as you hook your legs around his lower back to bring him closer. “M-more,” you gasp.

“S-shit—“ Bro’s eyes scrunched shut, his breathing ragged. You felt heavenly, gummy walls clamping around him so deliciously that he was sure he’d come instantly. Already, he could feel his cock throb. Desperate to feel more. His hips rut forward, prompting you to squeal. “S-shit! Are you—“

“Don’t stop,” you demand. Already, you could feel the coil of desire tightening in your stomach. As Bro pressed further and further, it threatened to come undone. “Ah, w-wait—“

“I need you to relax for me, mi amor,” Bro grunts.

“B-but—“

The moment Bro sheathes his cock all the way, hitting where you’re most sensitive, your toes curl, and you’re gushing around him while crying out his name. It catches Bro off guard, not expecting you to cum so suddenly, let alone by him just pushing his cock in. But, fuck, if he didn’t truly enjoy the sight. And as he holds you steady as your orgasm trembles your body, he silently wishes he could play that erotic moment back again.

“F-fuck,” you whimper, covering your burning face as embarrassment overshadows your desire. How could you cum that fast already?! What were you, a teenager? “I-I’m sorry. I-I just—“

Bro gently takes your hand away from your face. He regards you fondly, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “Do you want to stop?”

“Huh?”

“We can stop if you want.” He says it so assuredly that it makes your chest swoon. Even now, this man continues to prioritize you first.

“No! It’s…just embarrassing to finish so quickly…” you mumble shyly. Bro chuckles and kisses your temple.

“I’m not complaining. If anything, it makes me feel better knowing that I have such an effect on you. We can take it slow and go at our own pace as we figure out what we like. This is new for both of us.”

His lips meet yours again, and you sigh into him. As his hips begin to move, dragging his length through your still too sensitive walls, your fingers dig into his hair. Every snap of his hips feels intentional, not too rough that it has you uncomfortable, but just sharp enough that it has you gasping for more.

You hold him tighter, your sweaty bodies melding together. Bro fucks into you deep and slowly, trying not to make too much noise. Your mouth works against his; you both desperately try to taste one another as your tongues fight for dominance. The stretch of his cock reaches the innermost part of your cunt to where you’re most sensitive, making you gasp.

“B-Bro,” you whimper. Your cunt quivers around him, desperate for release. Bro ruts against you faster and harder, bullying his length over and over against that sweet spot until you’re cumming around him. He groans into your shoulder, your spasming cunt trying to milk him for all he had. He presses into you deep as he cums.

You’re dazed, but you immediately notice the loss of warmth from him when he withdraws. “Wait—“

“Don't worry. I’ll be right back.” Bro seals the promise with a kiss before heading to the bathroom. He returns soon with a washcloth. You don’t say anything as he wipes you down, cleaning the sweat and sex off of you.

The gentle aftercare…it feels nice.

“Do you want to shower?” Bro asks you.

“I don’t think I could walk if I wanted to,” you laugh. “Can you lie with me?”

Bro doesn’t hesitate this time. He climbs into the bed with you, pulling the comforter over your shoulder to ensure you’re warm. But you gravitate towards him, lying your head on his chest to hear the steady drum of his heartbeat.

You fall asleep like this, comforted by his presence. And you can only hope that when you wake, this fantasy doesn’t end.

You wake to sunlight filtering through the window, the smell of bacon grease, and the sound of laughter. Groggily, your surroundings come into view, and it takes you a few seconds to process where you're at and that it is not your room.

Sitting up quickly, you're stopped by the slight ache in your hips. At the sight of your naked frame, your face warms as you remember last night.

You and Bro slept together.

You couldn't explain why the notion of it was so embarrassing to you. The sex was good, and Bro treated you better than anyone you had ever been with. Granted, you don't make it a habit of hooking up after the first date. That seemed like something you were too old for at this point, but you weren't going to lie and say that you didn't thoroughly enjoy it.

But now you're left in the uncomfortable limbo of wondering where that leaves the two of you? Well, Bro had asked you out to dinner, so that meant he was likely interested in you romantically, right?

Groaning, you collapse back into the pillows. The faint smell of Bro’s cologne lingers, filling you with a sense of comfort. What if, after last night, he no longer felt the same? He was a father first, and Dear was his main priority, as Guita was yours. Not to mention, what if he wasn’t over his late wife? You could never replace her, nor would you even dare to, but you didn’t want to be complete for his affection if ultimately it still belonged to another.

The bedroom door creaks open. Startled, you pull the blankets up to cover yourself, but it’s only Bro who enters. He’s carrying a tray, precariously balancing a cup of coffee and a plate of something that makes your stomach growl. When he sees that you’re awake, he smiles.

“Oh, good. Saves me from having to be the bad guy by waking you up,” Bro says. “Would you like some breakfast? The kids have already eaten.”

“Yes…um, thank you…” You pause, realizing you were still completely nude. “Actually, do you know where my clothes are?”

“Oh.” Bro clears his throat, ears turning pink. “Sorry. I threw them in the wash. Let me go grab you something.” He briefly leaves the room, coming back with a t-shirt that’s clearly one of his, for it basically swallows you up when you put it on. “I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat. Guita insisted on pancakes.”

“Handsome and can cook too?” You cut your fork into the fluffy pancake, groaning as its buttery taste floods your taste buds.

“It was mostly just trial and error,” Bro dismisses. He sits on the edge of the bed across from you. “Dear is a bit finicky with certain textures, so I’ve had to learn to accommodate.”

“He sure is very lucky to have a father like you who cares so much about him.”

“I’m honestly just trying my best, but I’m not perfect, and arguably, I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to this relationship stuff either.”

Your grip on your fork tightens. “Bro…”

“Listen, about last night—“ He hesitates. Bro runs a hand through his hair, heaving out a sigh to steel his nerves. Damn, he was really out of practice with this. He was so nervous that he could hardly get the words out.

You hold your breath, waiting for the inevitable rejections. Where he tells you that last night was a mistake. That there would be nothing further between either of you, and it would be best if you go your separate ways. For some reason, the thought makes your stomach churn, and against your will, tears begin to trickle down your cheeks.

“I..um…would like to give this a try if you’re interested, and—hey!” Bro’s heart drops at the sight of your tears. He quickly cups your cheeks. “W-what’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

“No.” You sniffle. “It’s just, being around you has my heart stuttering like crazy. It makes me forget all reason, but at the same time, I don’t hate it. I-I just don’t want it to end.”

Bro’s expression softens. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. This makes it much easier then.” He wipes your stray tears, and you subconsciously lean into his touch. “I know we did things kind of out of order, but I really do like you and want to see where this goes. I know we’re both clearly out of practice.”

At that, you choke out a laugh. “A little?”

“Okay, maybe a lot,” Bro chuckles. “But I think we should be allowed to be happy. The kids already like each other, which is the first major hurdle. What’s stopping us?”

Deep down, you know what he says is true. For once, you should allow yourself to be a little selfish and chase after the things you want. You've always put Guita first, and as you mentally work through the millions of ways this relationship couldn't work out, you frown as self-doubt begins to rear its ugly head. “My job…”

Ideally, you wanted to be cleared of your debts and free from the Sphere before pursing anything serious. Sure, you were strictly professional, but it didn’t sit right with you to be essentially paid to flirt and spend time with other men while in a committed relationship. Maybe that was just you being in your head, because Bro regards you with an odd look.

“What about it?” He asks. “Do you want to quit?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” You shake your head. “I can’t just quit. Not until my debts are paid off.”

“Then I’ll pay them off.”

“Bro, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” you exhale a sigh. “I can’t ask you to pay off the remaining five million yen left of my father’s debts so early into a new relationship. It wouldn’t sit right with me.” It would make you feel guilty to take his money, like you’ve cleared one debt to be passed on to the next. Plus, you didn’t want him to shoulder that burden.

“Very well, I don’t want to overstep,” Bro relents. “But if we’re going through with this relationship, please know that I will always support you and try to take care of you, and by proxy, Guita.” He takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “All I ask is that you extend the same love to Dear. I’m not asking you to replace his mother, but it’s important to me that you get along.”

“I know you’re a package deal.” You lean into him, and he wraps his arms around you. “Just a warning, though, Guita has the world’s best puppy dog eyes. Don’t let her fool you.”

“I’m an attorney. I deal with cunning businessmen on the daily. You think I would really cave to the whims of a fourteen-year-old?”

You smirk. “You did yesterday at the Gashapon machines.”

Bro laughs. “Fair.”

There’s hushed laughter outside the door, and you can hear loud shushes trying to silence the other. You and Bro share a knowing look.

“You two can come in,” Bro calls. The door opens, and in stumbles a giggly Guita with Dear not too far behind. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“No~” Guita says in a singsong tone as she throws herself onto the bed. “Anyway, so are you guys like boyfriend and girlfriend now? And does that mean I get to hang out with Dear all the time now?”

“Guita,” you sigh at her bluntness.

“Would you be okay with me dating your cousin?” Bro asks. Your eyes widen slightly. He...was really asking for her blessing to date you? How much more romantic could this man be?”

“Yup! As long as you make her happy, it’s okay with me!” Guita gives a thumbs up.

You give Dear a soft, albeit shy, smile. He stares up at you, large blue eyes blinking slowly. “Dear, do I have your blessing to date your dad?” The boy glances between you and Bro to Guita. He then looks at his hands before mimicking her thumbs up.

“Then, it’s settled,” Bro confirms. “Now, why don’t we get ready for the day, hm? I know a new arcade that just opened.”

“Yes! Let’s go!” Guita runs off before anyone can stop her. Dear goes to follow, but pauses at the door.

“Something wrong, Dear?”

Dear turns around, running back up to you. He suddenly hugs you tightly around your waist. It catches both you and Bro by surprise. You don’t say anything—don’t even know what to say. Then, your lips soften into a smile, and you run a gentle hand through curly hair. You let Dear pull away first, letting him hold you as long as he needed before he chases after Guita.

“Come on,” Bro ushers, giving you a cheeky smile. “They’ll only hound us if we’re not ready when they are.”

If this were just a dream, you didn’t want to wake up. A life with Bro, a sense of family with Guita and Dear, the idea that this could become your normal made you happier than you realized.

And you were going to embrace every moment of this new love that you had found.

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