#choso — !! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

norikuna · 2 days ago

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LAST FRIDAY NIGHT — choso kamo

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (d) and let the show begin !

prologue. → it's been seven days since you wobbled into your apartment and almost threw up on your best friend. seven days since you confessed your love to him. seven days of radio silence as you've done your best to shut him out, hoping that the earth swallows you whole. there's no way he's going to want anything to do with you now!

but it's been years since choso had started silently loving you.

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. choso kamo x afab!reader

warnings. vírgin!choso, spítting, kíssing, makíng out, thígh kínk (mild), yuuji being a menace 😭

word count. 8k! song inspiration. last friday night — katy perry

a/n. i can't believe i don't write for choso more. i really put a lot of love into this fic but i wish i had expanded on it a bit more 😭 one thing abt me is that i love adding side characters to cóck block

mp3. think we kissed, but i forgot!

"did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? breakups happen every day — you don't have to lose it."

you jab at the skip button like it's personally offended you, cutting off the mournful strains of the evermore bonus track mid-verse. normally, you'd let the singer's poetic misery hold your fragile heart in a pretty gentle chokehold, for she understood your heartbreak like a nobel laureate in emotional devastation. but not today.

not on this particularly dreary friday, right before christmas, where even ms. swift's dulcet agony felt obnoxiously on the nose.

pinned under the suffocating weight of your quilt, you let out a dramatic sigh that could rival a victorian heroine wasting away from heartache and humiliation.

with the theatrics of someone clawing their way out of a shipwreck, you work one arm free, waving it weakly into the air like your tragic signal of defeat.

the cocoon of your quilts and covers isn't warm nor comforting. it's a smothering trap, a quilted tomb of your own making.

"this is it," you mumble to the empty air of the apartment, your voice muffled by layers of fabric, "this is how i go."

the universe, for its part, remains unbothered by your suffering.

with a theatrical groan that would earn you a standing ovation in a one-person tragedy, you yank the quilt over your head. plunging yourself into darkness once more.

but unfortunately, the muffled strains of your 'sad girl winter' playlist refusing to take the hint seep through, like overly persistent ghosts of your bad decisions in the past. it seemed that evermore was feeling less like a balm for your soul, and more like the soundtrack to your public humiliation.

somewhere in the tangled chaos of your bed, half pillows and half-sulking regret, your poor and neglected nintendo switch lies face down like it gave up on your hours ago. its screen has long since gone dark, but if you listen hard enough, you can almost hear your animal crossing villagers whispering conspiratorially, drafting a formal petition to evict you.

no doubt tom nook is already sharpening his capitalist claws, repossessing your house with an unsettling amount of glee.

but the rest of your room is not much better. the string lights on your walls flicker half-heartedly, casting an uneven glow over the wreckage of the past week.

it's not the charming nor dramatic kind of mess that makes for an artsy photo dump. no, this is the slow and unflattering unravelling of someone who let life beat them up with zero resistance. if rooms could file restraining orders, yours would have done it by now.

teetering laundry piles of discarded sweatshirts are haphazardly stacked in the corner. nearby, an empty hot cocoa mug sits, sticky with the remnants of whipped cream. candy cane wrappers are strewn across the room, the aftermath of a peppermint explosion that made your jaw ache.

but the true centrepiece of this disaster? your phone, face down on your nightstand. neglected and on silent. the one object in this room that's probably begging for attention, and one that you've been skilfully ignoring. and yet, right on cue, it buzzes again.

lighting up with a contact number that you've been ignoring all week.

choso.

and you squint at the notification, at the glowing screen that makes your eyes sting in the dim light.

sweet, dependable and utterly loyal choso.

your best friend of over a decade. the one person that you can't bring yourself to face.

the one person that also deserves so much better than this radio silence, and yet the last person that you can humanly confront. especially not after what happened last friday night.

and here, good friends, lies the crux of your problem.

that doomed night, seven days ago, has mostly dissolved into a series of blurry and fragmented snapshots. like a bad, half-finished film that you'd walked out of halfway through.

but the lead up? oh, you remember that part with the kind of clarity that should have been reserved for more important moments.

you could still feel the heat of storming out of that overpriced restaurant, half-drunk and fully pissed off, tears streaming down your cheeks and thickening your throat.

your ex-boyfriend? well, he had been your current boyfriend, before he decided to break up with you. in public. for all that classy, emotional damage that was so in character for him.

and with a line so perfectly cliché, it practically begged to be immortalised on a 'worst breakup excuses' list in cosmopolitan: i'm sorry, baby. i just don't see it working anymore. we're just too different. oh! and i found someone else.

oh, sure. but you should have been glad to have been rid of the man-child that thought frankenstein was the monster's name, the man who commented 'oxford study' on innocent tiktoks, and called pinterest 'girl instagram.'

god, what a fuckin' loser.

fuelled by a mix of public-induced heartache and questionable tequila choices, you had practically charged across street crossing. your feet hitting the pavement with the reckless kind of abandon reserved for teenagers sneaking out after curfew.

and there choso had been in your apartment. your best friend had been sitting cross-legged on your rug, surrounded by wrapping paper and ribbons. probably wrapping yuuji's christmas gifts with military precision. he had been balancing a roll of tape in his mouth, scissors over his lap dangerously close to the family jewels. but you had barrelled through the door like a feral cat in a downpour.

his eyes had widened, a little startled, as you made your entrance. the tape had fallen out of his mouth, chestnut hair falling over his face as he gaped. you couldn't blame choso, of course. you had looked entirely like a bedraggled, disheveled mess in a storm. cheeks streaked with mascara trails, but then everything went...fuzzy?

what did you remember? crying. lots of it.

and boy, was it a show. the kind of weeping where your face contorts into a puffed-up, berry-red disaster, and you would feel the headache creeping in even before the tears had finished.

choso's arms had caught you before you could face plant into the couch. solid, broad. warm and familiar.

you had caught the scent of clove and pepper, alongside faint citrus that you had been associating with him over the years. you had been saying something, raw and desperate.

your words had spilled out of you like water from a broken faucet.

and here you were now, reaping the glorious consequences of your own unfiltered word vomit.

seven days of stewing in your own shame and regret. but seven days were not enough to undo this level of self-sabotage. you briefly considered the options: faking amnesia, dropping out of university entirely, or best case scenario — moving to antarctica and herding emperor penguins.

you groan, sinking deeper into the abyss of your covers. and then, of course, your phone buzzed again. the dull and persistent vibration drilled into your skull like a tiny, digital drill.

cho 💜

(01:09am) hey, are you doing okay? (08:42am) tell me if you need anything! (04:23pm) hello? did i do something?

you peek at the screen, trying to avoid making eye contact with the tiny and terrifying letters. your sheet mask scrunches uncomfortably, making you look like a particularly pathetic mummy. choso's sweet and utterly patient messages were a sharp control to your gross sulk, and his concern makes you want to curl into a ball and crawl into a snowbank.

outside, christmas snow fell gently, blanketing the world in a soft and untouched white. it was like something out of a dream, a world of calm and peace. peace that your trifling ass didn't deserve.

if choso wanted to speak to you, he'd have to drag you out of your self-imposed misery himself. and even if he were to arrive at your apartment door, he'd only find a note tacked to the wall. with a map leading to the south pole.

so, what exactly had happened last friday night?

the memory rolls out like an old film reel, all jagged and distorted. the kind that you can't skip, even if you wanted to. it comes in fragments, each one more excruciatingly clear than the last. the haze of vodka-infused whipped cream shots over hot drinks slowly melting away like a bad handover.

the door to your apartment? you remember that part with embarrassing clarity. you had kicked it open with awful, ragged flair. your heel slipping on the floor, and you had nearly stacked it. face-first into your own doorway, standing there with the grace of a giraffe on roller skates.

the second the door had slammed shut behind you, a gust of frigid winter shot through the apartment like a chill reminder of your situation.

choso had been sitting cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table, in the midst of complete, barbaric chaos. the roll of mauve wrapping paper teetered precariously on his dark jeans, and scissors dangled from his lap while a stripe of tape was wedged between his teeth. in between the mess of clippings and discarded tape, he seemed more like an absurdly morose-looking christmas elf that had been tasked with being santa's helper after an entire bottle of mulled wine.

but as you had walked in, or rather stumbled in, his gaze had shot up. his chestnut hair falling in messy curtains around his face, with one unruly strand intertwined with a red-white rogue ribbon. choso's face had twisted in alarm, his usual solemn manner replaced by someone who looked like they were trying to figure out whether they needed to brace themselves for good or bad news.

"hey," he had said, voice soft but sharp, like he was trying to handle fragile glass. choso had spat the tape out of his mouth unceremoniously, and he had been tugging the ribbon free rom his hair, concern all over his fine features, "what's wrong? are you okay?"

and you? a disaster. drunk, crying, furious. the recipe for an emotional molotov cocktail.

"i hate him," you had snarled, yanking off your beige coat, hurling it in the general direction of the couch. instead, your aim missed entirely. flopping halfway onto the floor, and halfway across choso's knee.

choso simply plucked the coat off his leg with two fingers, gingerly draping it over the arm of the couch. your best friend was frowning as he set down his oversized scissors, rising to his feet in a fluid motion. amber-hazel eyes flicked to yours, wide with alarm as he stepped closer, "are you hurt? is this about —?" he was hesitating, "your boyfriend?"

"no, my ex-boyfriend!" the words were ripped out of you, and your voice pathetically cracked halfway through as tears spilled down your flushed cheeks, "and 'm not hurt, cho. unless you count emotional damage," punctuating your statement with a tragic, breathy hiccup.

choso's perpetual frown deepened, as thick and unruly brows knit together, "okay," he said, voice low and steady, "do you want to sit down? i can get you some water, wait." his steps are slow, purposeful as he closes the distance between you gently, with measured care. or like he was defusing a bomb.

but you were having none of his gentle care, "no, i don't want water! i want — i want to un-date him," you wail, arms flailing as you start pacing like a caffeinated hamster, "god, i'm so stupid for dating him in the first place. and yes, i know, stop looking at me like that. i know you want to say i told you so, but he's such a —," you pause mid-rant, clawing the air for the right word, "a troll. a goblin, an ogre."

choso blinks, "maybe you should just get some fresh water in you," but there's an underlying layer of grimacing amusement painted over his quiet features, "and i didn't even say i told you so."

"no," you blurt, your head snapping so fast that your neck immediately files a complaint in the form of a sharp crick, "i don't want water. i want —"

and then, your brain short-circuited. because that's when you'd actually looked at him. like really looked.

warm hazel eyes framed by dark, sleepless circles that seemed to follow choso around like cursed ghosts. soft, feathery strands of mahogany hair that refused to stay tied back, and tumbled rebelliously into his face. that damn sweatshirt, loose and charcoal gray, and perfectly slouched over his broad shoulders. the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal forearms so solid that they could make a renaissance sculptor pack and quit.

and like a freight train at full speed, like whee-woo, the realisation hit you. choso kamo.

your best friend in the entire world. your steady and reliable, and kind to a fault best friend. better than any stupid ex that you'd ever had.

and because tequila is the nectar of chaos, and heartbreak has no filter, your mouth decided to unleash the words that you would haunt you for the next week.

"i should have been dating you."

the room is silent, as choso freezes entirely. like someone had smacked the pause button on him, and his hand, mid-reach for a glass of water, stops cold. his eyes are wide, mouth parting as though he hadn't yet processed what you had said.

"what?" choso finally manages, the words soft and stunned, like he wasn't sure that he had heard you correctly.

you, in your infinite wisdom (or rather, drunken idiocy), barrelled on like a bull who had just seen red cloth, "i'm so serious! you're the one i should've been with all along!"

you wave a hand at him, as if showcasing him to an invisible jury, "you're smart and you're sweet, and you actually care about me, unlike him!"

choso blinks, his expression unreadable, "okay," he says slowly, setting the glass back down on the table, "i think maybe, uh, you should sit down?"

"i don't wanna sit down, i want you to stop looking so perfect right now."

there's a faint flush creeping up choso's neck, like red pigment staining cream watercolour canvas, "perfect?"

"yes!" you hiccuped, teetering over the couch, "you're supposed to be my best friend, and instead you just stand there with your stupid forearms, and your everything, and it's not fair!"

choso doesn't move, doesn't even speak. just stands there, vaguely dumbstruck. like you had hung the moon, and then yanked it back down to earth to hurl it at his chest.

"i should've been dating you, cho," you declare again, louder this time, and your finger jabs his broad chest like it was somehow his fault, "you're the best, y'know that? and you're so hot, how did i not realise this sooner?"

your best friend's expression goes on a journey of varying emotions, shock and disbelief, panic and confusion. all while his candied pink lips open and close, "uh," because by now, eloquence had left the room for both parties. his hands hovering awkwardly like he wasn’t sure whether to steady you or flee. his ears noticeably red, the flush creeping down his neck.

but drunk-dumped you wasn't done. oh no, this was your oscar moment. the hill you were going to die on. the ted talk that no one asked for.

and you were on a roll now, "i mean, look at you! you've got the broody, hot guy thing down so well, and you know that's my type. and everyone knows it, like why aren't we dating already?"

choso's mouth curls again, but no sound comes out. he looks like he wants to crawl into a snowbank and bury himself there forever, "okay, i think maybe you should sit down before you hurt yourself, or, uh, the furniture."

"i'm fine!" you'd declared, throwing your arms up in defiance just as your knees decided that they were absolutely not fine. you wobbled, and in an instant, choso's warm hands are on your shoulders, steadying you with ease.

the searing heat of his touch makes your heart lurch in a way that felt far too real for comfort. you look up at him, his face close enough that you could see the faint freckles dusting his nose, and your breath hitches.

he's close enough now that his lips could press against yours with the mere turn of his head. but you know that choso's just too kind and thoughtful to kiss you in this state right now. he also looks like he's about to gently suggest that you pull yourself together. you wouldn't know, because you've just bulldozed right over him with zero brakes.

tears stream down your face still, but they're starting to slow. sticky and hot, tacking to your cheeks, as you deliver the final blow, "if i asked you to kiss me now — like genuinely right now, would you, cho?"

you would never know what choso's reply would be, because you hiccup violently. the kind that punches your chest and makes you sway. fate was never done with you, because your stomach lurches in warning. you had clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with panic.

choso, bless his heart, had looked ready to throw himself in front of you, "bathroom. now," he'd commanded, his voice taking on a rare, firm edge.

and that's right where your memory cut off, mercifully plunging you into the black void of your vodka-soaked brain. no idea if you'd made it to bathroom. no idea if you'd thrown up all over him, classy as always.

but the last thing you did remember, the thing that haunted you eve now, like a ghost tapping on your shoulder, was the look on choso's face. wide-eyed, jaw slack. like you had flipped his entire world upside down.

choso sits cross-legged on the cold dorm floor, the faint creak of wood beneath him. in his hands is a neatly wrapped gift, small and unassuming. but painstakingly chosen for you. the crimson ribbon, shiny and festive, catches the light of the desk lamp.

it wasn't extravagant, nothing flashy nor pricey. but it was thoughtful, personal. something that he had picked out weeks ago, back when everything between you two had been normal.

back when you didn't look at your phone, and decide he wasn't worth answering.

choso's thumb grazes the corner of the box, smoothing over the edges of the paper that he had meticulously folded after watching youtube tutorials. but now? the box felt heavier than it had any right to. would you even want this anymore? would you even want to see him?

choso sighs, letting his head tip back against the edge of his bed frame. it was a tight and awful feeling, something small and sharp that had wormed its way into his chest.

it wasn't just the silence. it wasn't even the unanswered texts or the way you’d been avoiding him like he was the human incarnation of bad news.

it was the fact that you were you. his best friend. the person he always knew how to read — until now, when everything felt scrambled.

he stares at the gift again, his brows furrowing. he'd been turning this over in his mind for seven straight days, wearing grooves into his thoughts like a track stuck on repeat. did you regret it? did you even remember what you said?

and worse — what if you did mean it?

that last thought was the one that always hit hardest. he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, the dark strands falling back into his face. somewhere on his desk, his phone buzzed softly, and for a second, his pulse jumped. but when he checked, it wasn't you.

because of course it wasn’t.

"pathetic," choso muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

seven days.

seven long, agonising days since you'd stumbled into your apartment like the ghost of heartbreak past — tear-streaked, half-drunk, and dropping words so raw they’d knocked the air out of choso's lungs.

seven days since you’d looked at him like he was everything good in the world — right before nearly puking on him and passing out on the couch in a heap of drunken devastation.

and seven days of brutal radio silence ever since.

choso groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he slouched against the edge of his bed. he got it — why you'd be embarrassed. he, he was still processing it, the memory looping in his head like a cursed highlight reel.

"you're amazing, cho. you're perfect."

the words echoed, soft and slurred, over and over like a broken record choso couldn’t shut off. a selfish part of him — a really shameful, awful part — had been glad your ex was out of the picture. not that it was a surprise; choso had never liked that guy. too loud, too cocky. the kind of guy who thought buying overpriced cologne absolved him of skipping deodorant.

but then there was the other part of him — the one that made him feel like a jerk. the part that felt guilty for feeling anything at all. because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you.

choso wasn't supposed to have spotify playlists privately curated with all your favourite songs. wasn't supposed to have started buying extra hair ties, just because the thought of you stealing one was so annoyingly appealing.

and he definitely wasn't supposed to have been quietly, hopelessly in love with you for five years and counting.

how many times had he messaged now? four? five? enough that he was starting to feel like that guy, the one who couldn’t take a hint. what if you'd sobered up and realised last friday was just drunk nonsense? what if you didn't like him like that at all?

had he not spent seven days drowning his misery in tubs of mango and pistachio ice cream? enough was enough.

choso's thumb hovered over your contact for a long, stupid second, debating whether to send one more pointless text. but before he could add another "hey, just checking in," he swiped away and hit a different contact. a boisterous teenager with a shock of pink hair.

he shoots off a quick text, almost grimacing as he hits send.

Choso Kamo: Need advice. Got a hypothetical situation. yuujithegoat2003: if this is smth weird i'm not googling it for u

choso rolled his eyes, already regretting this decision. but he needed to hear an outside opinion.

Choso Kamo: It's not weird, serious this time. If someone confesses something private to you while they are drunk, then avoids you for a week, what do you do? Hypothetically?

a pause, and then:

yuujithegoat2003: is this someone a hot girl lol

choso sighed, his dry lips twitching despite himself.

Choso Kamo: Yes. Also, serious answers only. yuujithegoat2003: ok ok. do they remember what they said? Choso Kamo: Most likely not.

yuujithegoat2003: huh...so did they say something good? or was it rude? Choso Kamo: It was good. Really quite good. yuujithegoat2003: bro this seems easy, just ask if they meant it.

choso blinked at his phone, at the...almost reasonable response. suspiciously reasonable, coming from his younger brother.

Choso Kamo: And if they freak out? Or say that they didn't mean it? yuujithegoat2003: then u say 'just kidding' and blow the place up and leave the country. i can get u a fake id, i know a guy. i know lots of guys.

Choso Kamo: You need to stop being influenced by Gojo Satoru. Just because his public break-up landed on national news does not make it a premise for my own situation. Hypothetical situation. yuujithegoat2003: ok, gojo just said no one gaf abt your love life anyway. seriously tho if u like this hypothetical person, just be chill. don't be all intense and scare them off bc its never that deep.

Choso Kamo: Love is that deep. Especially when you care for the other person a lot. yuujithegoat2003: ur so dramatic bro. anyway good luck.

yuujithegoat2003: also if you get rejected don't tell me bc i can't handle second hand embarrassment. thx. gtg to work. these pizzas don't deliver themselves ay

choso glances down at the gift still in his lap, the ribbon he'd so painstakingly tied now a little crushed — much like his pride. the box stares back at him accusingly, as if to say, what's the plan here, genius? wait for her to magically show up?

choso exhales through his nose, sharp and frustrated. sitting here wallowing wasn’t doing him any favours, and neither was yuuji's unhelpful voice.

"yeah, sure," he mutters under his breath, shoving the box into his jacket pocket. he stands abruptly, grabbing his jacket off the back of his desk chair.

if you weren’t going to talk to him, fine. he'd bring the conversation to you. answers, he thought, stepping out into the cold. the winter air bit at his face, but it was bracing, grounding even. one way or another, tonight was going to settle this.

the knocking was relentless.

you tried to ignore it at first, clutching your blanket like it was a shield against all outside forces. whoever was at the door would get the hint eventually. probably. hopefully.

but no, the knocking persisted, evolving into a deliberate rhythm, like some overzealous drummer auditioning for a garage band.

"unbelievable," you groaned, peeling your headphones off and tossing them onto the pillow where they landed with a hollow clatter. if this was the pizza guy you'd ordered from two hours ago, he was wildly late, and you were too broke to tip him anyway.

dragging yourself off the mattress felt like an olympic event. your legs wobbled, your blanket fortress collapsed behind you, and your pride was buried somewhere under the covers still. at least you'd showered earlier — small victories.

your damp hair dripped cold trails down the back of your oversized sweatshirt, and you caught a whiff of cocoa butter as you shuffled to the door. that was…something acceptable at least. but then the mirror by the entryway betrayed you, reflecting sleep-swollen eyes, and the faint ghost of face mask residue clinging stubbornly to your skin.

perfect. a vision of grace and dignity.

you yank the door open, ready to unleash a pointed what do you want? — but the words lodge somewhere in your throat.

smooth. and oh, just your luck.

there stood choso, a walking anomaly in the drab matrix of your sad little existence. his tall frame fills the doorway, backlit by the flickering hallway light, clad in a baggy black tee and faded denim that didn't quite match the nervous energy rolling off him in waves. his hair was tied up in a messy bun, spiky strands sticking out like an afterthought, and of course, he looked unfairly good for someone who had probably spent the past week avoiding the sunlight.

"uh, hey," he says, his voice softer than usual — careful, even. like he thought you might throw the nearest piece of furniture at him and sprint into the night.

"hey?" you echo, voice brittle as you folded your arms tighter. the sweatshirt you were wearing — his sweatshirt, one that he had left here weeks ago — suddenly felt two sizes too big and painfully obvious, "what are you doing here?"

choso scratches the back of his neck, his gaze flickering over you briefly before darting to the floor, "i needed to see you."

"at…eight at night? without warning?"

"would you have answered if i'd texted you?"

the air between you stilled as your brain scrambles for a retort, but he had you dead to rights. with a reluctant huff, you step aside. "fair point. just come in."

choso hesitates for half a second before stepping inside, his presence making your already small apartment feel even more claustrophobic. he's taking a quick glance around, and you watched, mortified, as his eyes landed on the pile of crumpled tissues precariously close to a half-drunk mug of cocoa and a bottle of jack daniel's teetering on the edge of the coffee table.

"sorry for the mess," you mutter, your voice defensive as you crossed your arms tighter.

"it's fine," choso says, a little too quickly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. his gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than necessary, "i didn't mean to…interrupt."

"you didn't interrupt anything." you wave vaguely at the disaster zone that was your apartment.

choso's lips twitch, almost like he wanted to smile but wasn't sure if now was the time, "look, i just —" he trails off, his usual dull voice faltering as he pulled something small and neatly wrapped from his pocket, "i came to give you this. and talk."

you stare at the gift in his hands, shiny crimson ribbon and all, your pulse kicking up like it had somewhere urgent to be, "christmas came early? thanks, cho," you say, mirroring his words with the kind of ease that only comes from too many shared silences. "i'm fine, though. i wasn't up to much."

choso cracks a small, half-hearted smile, but it's like watching a flicker of light in a dim room — there, but not really there. "i tried texting," he says, glancing at you, searching for something.

"i know," you murmur, suddenly finding the floor very interesting, "i just wasn't in the mood for much talking."

choso huffs, a sound halfway between exasperation and amusement, "i noticed," he says dryly, and that only makes the air in the room more thick and uncomfortable.

you sigh, letting your shoulders slump as you flop back onto the couch, curling your knees up to your chest like you're trying to make yourself small enough to disappear, "so, what? you came here to check if i'm still breathing?"

"kind of," choso admits, settling awkwardly on the edge of your coffee table, his long legs folded beneath him in that way that makes him look like he’s trying to physically contain himself. his knees bump into yours, and you have to fight the urge to pull away, like you could get too close, "but mostly...i came to talk about last friday night."

your stomach does a horrifying little flip, the kind that sends cold fingers crawling up your spine. you stare at him, silently willing him to read the begging look in your eyes and back off, but he doesn't. he's never been the type to take the hint.

"i've been thinking about it all week," he continues, his voice quiet but steady, as if he's preparing himself for something big, "and i need to know if —"

"nope," you interrupt, holding up a hand, "nope. we're not going there."

choso blinks at you, like he's trying to process the sudden barricate that you've just put up. but you're so not ready for this conversation, not now, nor ever. and you'll be damned if he gets any closer to the minefield. he scowls, his brows knitting together like he's resisting the urge to push you off the couch, "why not?"

"because it doesn't matter, okay?" you lean your head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like you can will this conversation away, "i was drunk as hell, cho. you're overthinking it."

he scoffs, his voice sharp now, like he's cutting through your flimsy deflection with a blade, "i don't think i am."

you wince, shrinking a little under the weight of his stony gaze, "why does this even matter?"

"you think i can just brush it off like it didn't happen?" and there's a rawness in choso's voice that hits you harder than expected.

your cheeks heat up, a fiery blush creeping up your neck, "i didn't mean it," you mutter.

"yes, you did," choso snaps back, with uncharacteristic heat, and he leans forward, enough to close the distance between you two, "and you know how i know? because you've been ignoring me all week. if it was just some drunk nonsense, you would have laughed it off by now. but you haven't."

you open your mouth to argue, to push back. but the words stick heavy in your throat. nothing comes out, and it must prove choso all the more right, because you watch as his bottom lip is captured by his teeth, suddenly watching plush skin split.

"do you want me to apologise?" you ask finally, voice a little too sharp for comfort, "because i will. i'll say i'm sorry for putting you in that position and —"

"i don't want an apology," choso cuts you off, and the dim light of your apartment makes the dark circles under his eyes stand out like bruises, "i want the truth."

you freeze, your heart thudding like a drum in your chest, "what truth, cho?"

"that you meant it," choso says softly, "that you meant it when you said that you wish it had been me."

the words hang in the air, heavy and electric. your breath catches, as your mind goes blank. an entire power outage, as you blink at him like a fish out of water. finally, after what feels like an eternity, you force the knot in your throat to loosen just enough to speak, "yeah," you whisper, "i meant it."

choso's whole body seems to deflate, like he's been holding up the weight of the sky. his shoulders slump, and the sheer relief on his face hits you like a tidal wave. it's almost enough to undo you. there's a sound, soft and shaky and far too vulnerable that escapes him.

neither of you move. the moment stretches out, fragile. like it could snap in half if either of you dared to breathe too loud.

then, choso is the first to move.

there's no hesitation, no uncertainty. just pure intention, like a dam finally bursting open. he shifts forward, hands finding their way to your waist with an urgency that makes your pulse go into overdrive. choso's grip is firm, but there's a reverence to it, as if you're something he's waited his entire life to touch. he pulls you to him, and you can feel the heat of him flood your chest, your blood, your bones.

"what if you regret this?" you murmur into his chest, voice muffled as your arms slip around his necks, holding onto the beautiful man like he may float way.

"not a chance," choso replies, and his voice is raspier than you've ever heard it, like he's saying it more to himself than to you.

choso kamo finally kisses you.

the kind of kiss that feels like a storm is finally breaking over clear skies, with an unrestrainted longing that crashes over the both of you.

his sweet lips meet yours with a hunger that makes your head spin, raw and real. choso clearly doesn't want to hold back, and neither do you.

his hands tighten at your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers thread through his hair, tugging lightly at russet strands.

choso groans into your mouth, a soft and burning thing that ignites every nerve in your body.

without breaking his hold on your lips, his wide hands slide down, finding the back of your thighs, making you shamefully clench them closer together.

but he's tapping them in silent invitation, and you leap into him, your legs wrapping around his waist as he lifts you effortlessly. the world around you blurs as he stumbles backwards.

and when the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed, gravity does its job. you both tumble into the mattress in a jumbled mess of limbs and muffled laughter, your heart pounding so loud, as you muster up the courage to prod your tongue at his lips, letting him part his mouth so you can take up more of choso.

you land beneath him, his weight pressing into you in the best way possible, sending sharp spikes of heady arousal through you. and you blink up at him, breathless.

choso is so close now, his hazel eyes locked on yours with a rare intensity, like the calm façade is entirely shattered now. but there's a smile on his lips, a crooked little thing that sends a rush of warmth through you.

"hi, choso," you whisper, your voice soft yet breathless as he chases your lips again, a desperate hunger in his eyes. it's as if he can't bear to be apart from you, even for a heartbeat.

"hey," he murmurs back, that low rumble sending shivers down your spine, igniting a heat you can't ignore.

you keep pressing kisses to his glossy lips, the world narrowing down the press of his mouth and how choso's hands cradle your waist like you might slip away if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

without breaking contact, choso shifts, his strong hands guiding you gently, firmly.

"don' wanna crush you," he spills against your mouth, his voice low and rough, and before you can reply, he flips you effortless.

the movement is seamless, fluid even. and you're suddenly perched atop him, straddling his thighs and sinking into the worn denim of his jeans.

he's leaning back against the covers beneath him, as his chest rises and falls in unsteady waves as he gazes up at you. expression caught somewhere between awe and hunger.

choso looks so completely, heartbreakingly in love with you that it leaves you breathless. his hands tighten on your waist, fingertips pressing with a near bruising intensity into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt that clings to your frame.

his cheeks are flushed a deep, telling pink, and you can't help the soft, teasing coo that slips from your lips as you trace the curve of his temple with gentle fingers, "is something wrong, cho?" you murmur.

his lips, swollen and glistening from your kiss, part slightly, his breath uneven and catching on the edges of unspoken emotions, "nothing. nothing, i swear," he says, the words tumbling out rough and raw, his voice pitched low and vulnerable.

his hands slide you closer, his grip firm but trembling slightly, and his next confession nearly undoes you, makes your core moisten even, "just…never done this before."

"really?" you whisper, eyes widening as you take him in — the flush on choso's cheeks, the way he won't quite meet your gaze, the way he holds you like you're something precious.

the realisation that he's never shared this part of himself with anyone else tugs sharply at your heartstrings, "never?"

choso swallows thickly, nodding once, his voice a quiet hum as he admits, "mhm."

"ah, you're so cute, cho," you giggle, watching as the man scrunches his nose in mock protest.

"tch, 'm not meant to be cute."

you huff, feigning disappointment, "and here i was, wishing you a very merry christmas eve." he whines as you lean in, pressing a teasing kiss to his neck, right where his heartbeat thrums beneath his pale skin. your lips find their home at the juncture, and you can't help but smile at the way he whines at your touch, bucks his hips up into yours.

"must have been real good to get a holiday gift like this."

you pull back just enough to admire your handiwork, a little red bloom that blossoms on thin skin, bruised petals that mark him now. choso's swallowing thickly, his adam's apple bobbing, as a soft whine escapes his lips again as you lean in, this time closer to the jaw. leaving a trail of kisses in a messy that makes choso squirm.

you press your thumb against his lower lip, feeling the soft and trembling skin quiver under your touch, "hey. open up," you coax, a teasing lilt colouring your voice.

choso looks up at you, his wide eyes clouded with desire as dark strands of hair fall across his forehead, "huh, what?"

you tap his lip again, impatience bubbling in your chest, "c'mon, open your mouth. properly," and the way he immediately obeys, parting his glossy lips sends a thrill through you. the scent of clove and citrus envelops you as you lean in closer, running your tongue over his lower lip.

you let a glob of spit fall from your lip into his mouth, with a thick thwack! echoing in the air. you deliberately miss, just a little bit, to watch him squirm as he swallows, eyes fluttering shut and inky lashes staining his cheeks.

"so good, aren't you? good at playing nice, hah," you use your thumb to smear the slick over his lips, just a bit. to watch him shudder, entirely captivated by you. it's exhilarating and makes your cunt clench around nothing. probably seeping through the thin material of your shorts and onto his thick jeans.

bang bang bang!

a sharp knock that booms at your door, enough to make your ears ring. you hear choso groan beneath you, shifting slightly so you can feel the full, thick curve of his bulge right where you need him most.

"think we can ignore that?" he rasps, his voice rough and low, the sound of it leave slick strands clinging between your thighs.

you spread your legs just a little wider over him, watching as his frown dissipates and his jaw drops, distracted by the preview you've given him, "i'm really hoping so."

but whoever is at the door has no intention of being ignored. another knock rattles the wood, followed by an all-too-familiar voice yelling, "hey! open up! delivery!"

your brows furrow, recognition sparking, "cho, isn't that—"

he cuts you off with an apologetic sigh, lifting you off his lap with surprising gentleness. choso sets you down on the quilt, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before muttering under his breath, "it better not be."

you watch him go, more than a little distracted by the sight of his broad shoulders and the way his messy hair bobs with each step. already, you're plotting exactly how you’ll get your hands back in it once he returns.

choso swings the door open, and you hear a collective, "what the hell?" echo through the apartment — one part you, one part choso, and one part…

"itadori yuuji?" you blurt, leaning over to get a look. sure enough, there's choso's younger brother, standing in the doorway in a bright red pizza delivery uniform, balancing three large boxes in one hand and his phone in the other.

yuuji blinks at the two of you, then raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and something vaguely accusatory before reading off his phone in a robotic voice, "uh…merry christmas eve. i have three pizzas. extra cheese. stuffed crust," he pauses, not able to keep the act up as his golden eyes narrow, "but, uh — bro, what happened to your face?"

you bite your lip to keep from laughing as choso straightens, his expression caught somewhere between mortified and furious, "yuuji—"

but the younger man's attention shifts to you, his gaze taking in the oversized sweatshirt you're wearing, choso's sweatshirt, and his jaw drops, "oh hell no. this is the hot girl you texted me about?"

choso visibly flinches as you burst into giggles.

"that's like your best friend? that's like my sister-in-law!" yuuji throws up his hands in mock disbelief, "you really keep your circles tight, huh, man?"

before choso can even respond, yuuji leans in closer, squinting at his older brother, "and seriously, dude, what's all that on your face?"

choso groans, snatching the pizzas from yuuji with one hand and shoving him toward the hall with the other, "okay, that's enough. get out."

"you haven't paid me! that's against the law!" yuuji protests, but choso grabs the scruff of his brother's uniform collar, steering him out the door.

"i'll pay you double. triple. just leave."

"my pizzas are probably cold now anyway," you call out, adding fuel to the fire.

"yeah? well, you look a bit too busy to eat them anyway," yuuji swivels his head over his shoulder to wag a finger at you with a grin, before choso finally shoves him fully into the hallway.

as the door slams shut, you hear yuuji's muffled voice echoing, "i'm telling everyone. i'm telling dad. i'm telling sukuna. i'm telling gramps, gojo, nanami —"

you can hear their bickering voices fade down the hallway, to where choso is probably gonna pack him into the car and send him off.

you glance down at the box you'd set aside earlier, your curiosity getting the better of you. carefully pulling at the ribbon, you open it to find a small scrapbook, beautifully made. inside are photos and clippings of you and choso: movie ticket stubs, receipts from late-night takeout runs, train tickets from your trip to the coast.

your chest tightens as you run your fingers over the familiar handwriting scrawled in the margins, a quote from a cheesy romantic movie that you had forced choso to watch with you a few months ago. what an honour it is to be loved like this.

520 notes · View notes

osohchoso · 2 days ago

Text

Merry Chosmas!

Thanks for all the love, wanted to share this again in light of the Choso panels we got today. 🥺😭

Under the Mistletoe

bf!Choso x Reader

“I just don't get what the big deal is about this Christmas thing.” He admits, his eyes flicking back to the screen for a brief second. Then it hits you. Sometimes you forget that there are still many things that feel foreign to the half-curse. Things that you grew up with and felt natural to you. Your sweet boyfriend has never experienced this magical winter holiday.

Content: fluff, fluff and more FLUFF, reader has no given gender or description, no use of y/n, established relationship, reader is homesick, reader is implied sorcerer, comfort, christmas and winter activities, pet names (baby, babe, love), found family, a bit cheesy, links to Twitter for visuals :)

SFW!

WC: 7.2k

December 1st

You and Choso are cuddling together on the couch as your fireplace crackles in the background, filling the house with a comfortable warmth that contrasts from the chilly outdoors. Eyes glued to the TV screen as you watch the first Christmas movie of the year. A large quilt wrapped around both of you, hands locked together beneath the blanket. His calloused thumb caresses the back of your hand, the only sign he was still awake. The warmth from his body acts as your personal heater as you lean your head against his shoulder. You exhale a pleasant sigh, this is exactly what you needed.

This would be your first year spending the holidays away from family. Now that December has come, you can’t stop thinking about how much you miss them. Christmas was always such a big deal back home, but you weren't able to accrue enough time off to fly back home. Last year you moved across the country for a job position at Jujutsu Tech, personally picked by Satoru Gojo himself. So you picked up and moved, essentially starting a whole new life. As scary as it was, you were welcomed into their community, making friends quickly with the other sorcerers and students. Through them, you also met your loving boyfriend Choso. Whose cheek is currently pressed against the top of your head as he stares at the TV screen.

“I just don't get it,” he mutters suddenly, more to himself than you.

“Get what baby?” You ask as he lifts his head, your gaze meeting his conflicted brown eyes.

“This” he waves his free hand wildly toward the movie you put on in hopes of curing your winter blues.

“Oh? You don’t understand the movie?” You ask, cocking your head. You thought it was a pretty straight forward story, it was a children’s movie after all. Before you can open your mouth to break down the plot of the animated film, he interrupts you.

“Oh! Christmas? It’s a holiday Cho. It happens once every year during December. It’s a special celebration where you gather with your loved ones and make lots of memories.”

“And…you're required to bring the trees in the house?” He points to the screen as the characters decorate a Christmas tree, a skeptical look on his face causing you to giggle.

“There is more than just that. It’s baking cookies and giving gifts, parties and hot cocoa!” As you gush about your favorite traditions, you feel a spark set off inside you. Igniting the Christmas spirit that the dreary weather had locked away from you, thawing the excitement you used to feel toward this season. “Most importantly, it's about spending time with family.” You add.

“I still don't think I fully understand.” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck as he processes your words.

That's when you realize, you don’t have to fly all the way back home to celebrate. Choso is your family now, and he’s right here. With the cutest confused look plastered to his face as he waits for you to reply.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you.” You smile warmly before leaning in to plant a light kiss to his cheek.

After 150 years, Choso would be celebrating his first Christmas.

December 8th

Both you and Choso were lucky enough to only work a half day today. Warnings of a looming snowstorm caused the school to close early, wanting the students and staff to take necessary precautions. The two of you decide to head back to your place together after leaving Jujutsu Tech, snow already lightly falling. He opens the front door for you, always such a gentleman, and follows you inside.

“Can we watch another Christmas Movie?” He asks slightly excited before he's even finished sliding his boots off. His sudden interest in the holiday catches you by surprise. You have both been so busy with work the past week you haven’t had any time to relax together, let alone indulge in some holiday festivities.

“Sure Choso.” You smile as you lead him over to the couch, throwing a couple blankets over the two of you. You find another holiday classic and press play.

“Yuji told me about Christmas,” he mentions, eyes glued to the screen. “It sounds very fun and I can’t wait to celebrate it with you.” He whispers as he presses his lips to your temple in a soft kiss. His sweet words warm your soul.

“Me too Cho. I’m glad I get to spend my Christmas with you.” You melt into his embrace as the movie plays.

“I've been researching it. Christmas” he explains. “It’s something you love, so I want to know all there is about it.” He admits. How did you end up with such a thoughtful man?

As the movie continues, you notice Choso paying attention less and less, his eyes drawn to the heavy snow falling outside your window. Eventually, he ignored the movie completely, the movie he requested to watch. Mesmerized by the falling specks of white. You reach for the remote to pause the film.

“Baby, you aren’t even watching” you laugh slightly, elbowing him in the side.

“Sorry. It's just…look.” He doesnt turn back to you as he speaks, eyes still watching the window. His index finger pointing. “It’s beautiful.” He exhales dreamily. The way he speaks about the weather, something so common this type of year, makes you smile wide.

“It is isn't it. Do you want to go outside and watch?” You ask.

“Yes! Can we?” He nods furiously, excited with the chance to see his first snowfall up close, to observe it fall from the sky.

The two of you stand and move toward the door. He reaches for the door handle to rush out but you stop him. He looks at you, confused and cocking his head to the side. First you offer to go outside and now you're telling him no.

“Wait, you need to bundle up first. I don't want you to catch a cold.” You grab a knit beanie and slip it over his pigtails, making the hat bulge awkwardly from the amount of hair stuffed underneath. Then wrapping a red scarf around his neck and face, making sure it stays snug against his cheeks. You repeat the same process for yourself before allowing him to exit the house.

Once outside, he stares up at the sky. Snow collects on his dark lashes as he watches it fall from the source. Struck by fascination. He doesn't speak a word, just watches the powder fall to earth, and you can't help but watch him in return. The way he gazes up with child-like wonder.

A light bulb flashes in your head. You walk across the yard, Choso not even noticing your disappearance. Reaching down, you scoop up a handful of snow. An icy chill spreading through your bare fingers. Smashing it together to form a tight ball and tossing it directly into his side. He flinches and turns at you, an almost startled look on his face.

“What the heck was that for?” he tilts his head to the side, almost looking offended by your attack.

“Time for a snowball fight!” you declare as you reach down and grab another handful, packing the ball and launching at his stomach. He lets out a small huff before bending down to mimic your actions, tossing it back. Of course, his aim is perfect. Not once failing to miss his target, you. No matter how much you try and dodge, they all land. While you throw them with all your might, Choso tosses them gently. Like he's afraid one wrong throw would break you. Treating you like you're more fragile than a glass sculpture.

“Ok truce, truce!” you throw your freezing hands up, he drops the snowball he had been preparing in his hands. You jog back to his side, seeing his bangs poke out from under the beanie, caked in the falling snow. Reaching up, your fingers brush against the brown strands, shaking it free of the white powder clinging to it. The scarf loosened, revealing his smiling face, his nose and cheeks tinted a bright red from the winter wind.

“Let's go inside my pretty boy.”

December 10th

You enter Jujutsu Tech in the morning, walking to the break room and making a pot of coffee for you and the other staff members. Once it is brewed you pour yourself a mug and walk down the hall toward the classrooms. You notice Yuji as he enters the building, alone. Him and Choso always arrive together. Seeing him walk in alone is just odd.

“Yuji? Where is your brother?” You ask, sipping from the mug, trying to distract yourself from the concern brewing in your stomach.

“Um…Choso caught a cold.” He says sheepishly. Your instincts were right to worry. Of course he did, and of course he wouldn't tell you. He has a bad habit of hiding his issues from you so you won't worry. He hates to see you worry, especially if it’s about him. Probably even begged his younger brother not to tell you, but Yuji knew better than to keep secrets from you.

“Thanks for telling me” You say softly to Yuji, smiling as you pat his shoulder.

You decide to just work another half day today, dismissing the students early. They have been working hard these last few months, and with Christmas break fast approaching you decided to take it easy on them. They deserved some rest time too. Gathering your things, you leave quickly and make your way to Choso’s place.

You stopped at a convenience store on the way, making sure to pick up some cold fighting essentials. You can’t help but feel partially at fault. Just two days ago you were both outside playing in the snow. While you made sure to layer him in winter clothing beforehand, you may have stayed out a little too long.

You unlace your boots and shed your winter layers when you enter the front door, tossing them onto the bench in the entryway. An earth shattering sneeze coming from the bedroom makes you jump out of your skin, the noise leading to Choso’s bedroom. Walking down the hall to his room, plastic bed crinkling in hand with each movement.

Peering into his room, you see him lying in his bed, bed sheets pulled up to his chin. Noticing your footsteps, he turns on his side to look at you. The poor boy is in a rough state. His hair messy as it lays spread over his pillow and his cheeks slightly flushed. His nose is red and angry, raw from the tissues. A big, dramatic pout on his lips when his eyes fall on your form.

“You got sick?” You ask as you walk forward and sit on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on his back through the blankets. He nods, almost disappointed looking.

“Yuji said I have a cold.” His voice is so rough and raspy it makes you wince. “What if I'm not better in time for Christmas?” he looks up at you, wide eyed and slightly panicked.

“It’s common this time of year Cho, the cold changing weather seems to bring it on for a lot of people.” You speak softly as you continue to rub his back through the blanket. “Don’t worry, it should only last a few days.”

“You shouldn’t be here, you could get sick too,” he frowns. While that is true, you don’t care right now. Not when your poor boyfriend looks as miserable as he does, fighting the first cold of his lifetime. Catching his sickness was a risk you were willing to take.

“I’m here to make you feel better.” You whisper, pressing your lips to his forehead in a feather-light kiss. No fever, that’s good. He opens his mouth to protest again but breaks off in a fit of painful coughs. Your hands firmly rubbing his back as he works through it. Once he stops, he looks at you with glassy eyes. A look of defeat and acceptance as he shifts over in his bed to make room next to him.

“Here, sit up” You ask, and he complies. Adjusting so his back is against the headboard. You rustle around in the bag and pull out some medicine and a cold bottle of water. When you place the pills in his hand, he looks at you with unease. This is all a new and unpleasant experience for him.

“Trust me, it will help.” You murmur, holding out the water bottle for him.

“I do trust you” He rasps, popping the pills in his mouth and washing them down with cool water, easing his throat.

“Try not to talk so much, you're just going to make your throat worse.” He responds with a nod.

After he eats a bowl of warm chicken noodle soup, the two of you lay down in bed as yet another animated Christmas movie plays on the screen. The fatigue must have finally caught up to him. His head resting against your shoulder as the rest of his body leans on you like dead weight. Congested snores leaving his open mouth.

As you look at him, it's hard to believe that a man so big and strong can look so small and vulnerable at this moment. You lay him down to settle comfortably on his bed, tucking him in nice and tight.

“My poor big baby” you whisper to no one but yourself as your fingers brush a strand of hair out of his face. For a slight moment, you catch his lips twitch into a quick smile, reacting to your touch even in his sleep.

December 14th

Thanks to your care, Choso is back to normal in no time, and luckily you also dodged the bullet of catching his cold. He joins you back at work by the end of the week, sitting in the breakroom together on lunch break. A few of the other teachers and staff are also eating with you.

“I just feel bad.” Shoko’s voice catches your attention. You notice her shoving a tomato in her salad bowl around with her fork.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“A lot of the students here won’t be able to go home for the holidays, and some just don't have family to return to if they wanted.” She lets out a long sigh.

“It’s not just the students.” Satoru continues. “I know neither of you are going home, and I’m staying right here too.” His fingers drum on the table in thought.

“It’s rough. I really miss my family, Christmas was such a big thing for us” You pout, setting your sandwich down. Suddenly you don’t feel hungry anymore, the homesickness striking your stomach. While you were thankful you get to spend the holiday with your boyfriend, you still yearn for the comfort of home. You can feel Choso’s gaze on you without even looking at him.

“Who says we can’t celebrate Christmas with friends?” Choso asks quietly, chewing his food. Everyone turns to look at him. Noticing he has everyone’s attention, he freezes. “Did I say something wrong?” he asks quickly with pink tinted cheeks. Looking from Satoru, Shoko then finally to you.

“No! That's a great idea Cho!” You exclaim, throwing your arms around him in a hug.

“Yeah, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Let's throw a party! And do something nice for the students too!” Satoru jumps up from his seat and yells.

“Great idea, we are practically all family here anyway” Shoko gives a small smile.

“I'll host it at my house!” You offer, excited to have everyone over and celebrating with you. This will fill the void of missing home.

At the end of the day, all the staff and students who are staying home this holiday gather in one room. You and Satoru seem to have the most excitement out of anyone here, explaining the plans quickly and watching the smiles grow on the student’s faces.

“And no presents, just show up and have a good time with everyone” You tell them, not wanting the students to have to spend a dime. You and the rest of the staff will have everything covered, you just want everyone to enjoy each other's company. The way the holidays should be spent.

And you will do everything in your power to make sure they have the perfect Christmas.

“But what if we did secret santa?” Nobara questions, hand on her hip as she looks directly at you. Yuji stands next to her shaking his head vigorously in agreement.

“Great idea!” Satoru chimes in before you have a chance to respond. You have to admit it’s not a bad idea. As long as everyone keeps it simple and no one goes overboard, it should be fine.

“Sure, we can do secret santa. But no other gifts! And keep it under 25 dollars” you explain as Shoko passes around a slip of paper for everyone to write their name on and a few ideas of things they want.

“Um…what’s secret santa?” Choso whispers in your ear so only you can hear, likely embarrassed by yet another holiday activity he doesn’t understand.

“It’s kinda like a gift giving game” you start to explain, writing your name on the paper. “You will randomly get assigned a person to bring a gift for, but you have to keep it a surprise. Don’t let them know it’s you though.” He nods his head then starts to scribble his name on this slip of paper. Satoru then collects everyone’s and puts them inside a cowboy hat (why he had that in his office, no one knows). He walks around and holds the hat out for everyone to draw a name.

You reach inside, feeling around and plucking out a paper between two fingers. Opening it, you see the neat letters spelling out NOBARA inside. Along with a lengthy list of items she wants.

Choso reaches in next, dark brows drawn together as he focuses. It’s almost as if picking out the paper slip was more important than any mission he’s ever been sent on. Finally, he picks one. Pulling it out and slowly unfolding the note. You watch as he reads the name, a wide toothy grin spreads across his face.

Wonder who he pulled?

December 16th

With Christmas barely over a week away you have been spending much of your free time preparing your home. Dusting every nook and cranny, polishing the windows until they were shinier than the north star. It was a bit excessive, but it was the first time you would have everyone from the school in your house all at once. You needed it to be perfect.

All that's left to do is decorate. Red and green totes sit in the living room unopened. All filled with Christmas decorations your parent’s sent with you when you moved. You haven't even peeked inside, no clue what sort of things they may have given you. You were waiting on Choso and Yuji to come back, that way the three of you could decorate together.

You forgot that this is also Yuji’s first Christmas with his big brother, you needed to share. The two of them need time to create their own special memories. Which is why today, you sent the pair on a mission. A mission to find and bring home the perfect tree from the Christmas tree farm. Even though Choso still thinks it's a bit ridiculous to bring nature inside.

While today wasn't particularly snowy, it was still chilly. Hopefully they won’t come back as two human popsicles. You stand at the stove stirring a pot of chocolate and milk, watching the ingredients swirl together. Preparing a sweet surprise to warm them up when they return. You also prepared the fireplace for them to thaw their frozen fingers.

As you finish the hot chocolate and pour it into three mugs, the front door opens. The brothers carry the tree in together, then lean it against the wall so they can take their boots and coats off. As Choso peels off his layers, he reveals the purple knitted sweater underneath. The one your mom sent as an early present for him, a little too small as it clings to his sculpted muscles. It makes you smile to see him wearing the handmade gift.

“Hot chocolate!?” Yuji exclaims as he runs over to you, your hands extended out with a mug for each of them. You nod, and Yuji takes it. Eagerly taking the first sip and letting out a relieved sigh. Choso walks up to you, taking the mug from your hands and wrapping his fingers around it.

“Thank you” he whispers, pressing his icy nose to your cheek to nuzzle against your warm skin. Even with his still frozen body, you can feel the warmth of his happy smile radiate on you. He takes the first sip, a low hum as he savors the taste. “Mmmm…this is really good”

Once the boys were thoroughly warmed up, it was time to begin decorating. They set the tree up in the corner, a beautiful blue spruce. Its large triangle shape fits perfectly in the spot you picked out for it.

“What do you think?” Yuji asks you, taking a step back as he admires their tree. Choso still adjusting it so it stands the way he invisions.

“It's perfect, the best Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.” You smile at the pink-haired boy.

“Choso picked it out. He saw this one and said ‘it’’s the one’” Yuji imitates his brother’s deep voice as he copies his words. Choso overhears and quickly looks away, pretending to still be busy with situating the already perfect looking tree. The tips of his ears turning pink.

You leave the boys to decorate the tree, letting them rummage through the boxes of Christmas ornaments and fumble with the tangled string of lights. The two of them smile and laugh amongst themselves as they work. An occasional cuss as they poke their finger on a needle.

A Christmas playlist emanating from the speakers. You sing along as you put up the other decorations. Hanging up garland and strings of dried oranges in the hallways, lights in the window and wreaths on the door. Three stockings hung up on the fireplace, your name along with Choso and Yuji’s printed on the front. Even though you three agreed to no presents, that wouldn’t stop you from filling their stockings to the brim. You already planned to spoil them with their favorite snacks and other things they enjoy.

A surprised gasp from Choso catches your attention, you rush over to him and see him cradling a small ornament in his hands. Looking down at it with a big smile.

“What is it?” You ask, trying to catch a glimpse of what he's holding so delicately, but he moves, holding the ornament out of view as he continues to stare with a big goofy grin.

“Babe…” He trails off, his eyes looking from the ornament then to you. “Is this you?” He finally turns it around to show you. A printed baby picture of you inside a snowman shaped frame, you weren't even a year old yet. Red letters at the bottom have your birth year and ‘First Christmas’ written on it.

“That is so embarrassing” you mumble, honestly you thought your parents would have kept that for their own tree instead of sending it with you. “You don’t have to put it on the tree.” You try to swipe it out of his hand but he holds it up higher.

“Nu uh. This is so cute. It’s definitely going on.” He steps away from your reaching arms and hangs it up high, admiring your baby face with a smile.

Once all the ornaments are hung, you plug in the lights strung around it. The three of you standing back to admire it. Twinkling brightly in the corner of the room. Choso stands in the middle, wrapping an arm around you and Yuji. His two favorite people in the world.

“It’s beautiful” You smile as you gaze on the most perfect Christmas tree you ever set eyes on, the star shining brightly at the top.

“Yeah�� Is all Choso manages to say, though his eyes are on you instead of the tree.

After a moment of silence, Yuji speaks up.

“Let's take a picture together!”

December 24th

Christmas eve is here and everything for the party is ready for tomorrow. You felt like a little kid who couldn't wait until morning to see what Santa brought. To make things more exciting, Choso decided to stay the night tonight. He said Christmas morning wouldn’t feel right if he didn't wake up with his family.

Yuji had also planned to stay the night, but decided at the last minute to have a sleepover with Megumi and the other students instead. You could tell Choso wanted to tell him no, but let him anyway. He can never deny his brother anything. Plus, Yuji promised to be here first thing in the morning.

You and the other staff decided to each make a dish for the party, you and Choso getting assigned dessert duty. Tonight, the two of you planned to bake gingerbread cookies together. All the ingredients are laid out on the counter as you reach for two aprons. You tie one around yourself first, then grab the other and turn to Choso who is standing in the kitchen watching you with a way too serious look. You throw the loop around his head then move behind him, reaching your hands around his waist to tie the strings in a neat little bow.

“I look ridiculous” he grumbles, his fingers tugging at the slightly frilly ends.

“No, you look cute” You wrap your arms around him in a hug, chest pressed against his back.

“Are you sure this is necessary?” He asks, looking over his shoulder at you with uncertinty.

“Yup. Don’t want your clothes to get dirty.” The clothes could easily be washed after, you know this. But seeing Choso in the pink and frilly apron just makes your heart flutter.

“Whatever.” He sighs, leaning into your hug and relaxing a bit.

The two of you work away at making the cookies. Holding a hand mixer, you mix the molasses into the batter. The thick and sticky substance dancing around the bow with the other ingredients.

“Next we need the flour mixture, can you add that, Cho?” With the mixer still in hand, you angle your head toward the glass bowl containing the flour and mixed in spices. He nods and reaches for it, tilting the bowl to pour it into the one you're stirring. A little too fast it seems as a puff of powdery smoke hits you right in the face.

“Too fast Choso!” you cough out the flour as you slow the mixer to a stop. He laughs and grabs your chin gently with his fingers, turning you to look at him. The thumb on his other hand wipes away the flour clinging to your face.

“Sorry” He struggles to stop his laughter as he cleans your face off.

Once the dough is complete, Choso uses the rolling pin to flatten it. His forearm muscles flexing as he rolls it out. The two of you cut out the gingerbread and place them on a cookie sheet, into the oven they go. The fragrant smell of cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg wafting through the air as they bake.

In the meantime, you prepare the icing. Whisking together milk and powdered sugar to create frosting thick enough to pipe. You set the whisk into the sink, only turning your back for a moment but when you look back you caught Choso red handed. His finger in the bowl as he scoops out a glob, then quickly pops the finger in his mouth to taste the sweet icing. He doesn't realize you were watching and his finger darts back in for a second taste.

“Hey!” you smack his hand before it makes contact for the frosting. His face turns red as he gives you a sheepish smile, caught in the act. “Save some for the cookies Cho!” you laugh.

With the cookies now cool, the two of you begin to decorate. Piping eyes and cute little smiles on their gingerbread faces. Adding hearts as buttons. You had to admit, they were looking so cute. Looking over at Choso, who has remained quiet for some time, you notice the intense concentration on his face as he decorates. His eyes narrowed and brows furrowed as his hand delicately squeezed the piping bag. You want to ask what he's creating but you are afraid of breaking his focus and messing him up.

“Look” he finally says, turning the cookie around to reveal his masterpiece. It was a cookie version of Yuji! An almost perfect replica. Complete with his spiky hair and school uniform. Even a crack in the cookie to replicate the scar over his eyebrow.

“Wow! That's so amazing, I had no clue you were an artist Choso.” You exclaim with a smile.

“Thanks” he says shyly, setting cookie Yuji with the rest of your completed cookies. He picks up the next one, his focus returning as he creates more. Probably wanting to make Megumi and Nobara too.

You grab another blank cookie, an idea forming in your brain. Using the icing as glue, you stick together matching spikes crafted from cookie scraps on either side of the gingerbread man’s head. Choso is off in his own world, not even paying attention. Leaving you to work on your creation unquestioned. You carefully piped the icing, occasionally looking up to glance at your muse across the table. Once you finished, you turned it over to show him.

“Choso, look what I made” you say to get his attention, his eyes widen as they scan the details of the cookie. The line across the face, the twin pigtails.

“You made…me?” he says surprised, pointing at himself.

“Yes” You smile, and watch as he unveils his most recent creation to you. Your own cookie mini-me. Every detail was placed with care, and you have to admit, he did a great job replicating you.

Once all the cookies were decorated to the nines and the kitchen cleaned, the two of you started to unwind in bed, yet another Christmas movie playing on the TV. Changed into a pair of matching pajamas. Red fleece with a pattern of tiny snowflakes and snowmen. It was kinda cheesy, but you wanted Choso to experience the full Christmas morning experience. To your surprise, he absolutely loved the idea of wearing matching pjs with you.

Cozy and warm, Choso drifts to sleep under the mountain of blankets before reaching the halfway point of the movie. A peaceful expression on his face, leaving you to wonder if visions of sugar-plums danced in his head.

As quiet as a mouse, you crept out of bed. Grabbing the items hidden away in the closet and walking out to the living room. There by the fireplace, three stockings hung with care. You fill Yuji’s with his favorite snacks and a couple gift cards. Inside of Choso’s you place the same, but with the addition of one extra special wrapped gift.

You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he opens it tomorrow.

December 25th

“Wake up!” Choso’s excited voice jolts you awake, peeling open your sleepy eyelids. He has you caged under him, a giant smile plastered to his face and his bed hair falling messily around him. Like a child waking up their parents on Christmas morning. “Good morning sleepy head” He coos, bending his head down to pepper your cheek in kisses.

“Good morning Cho” you say groggily, stretching your arms out.

“You gotta get up! It’s Christmas!” He pokes your cheek a few times, like it’s a button that will make you move faster. As he looks down on you with his charming smile, you can’t help but smile back. His happiness is infectious. It’s hard to believe that 25 days ago, this man didn’t have a clue what Christmas was. Now look at him.

“Okay okay, get off me so I can get up” You laugh, he immediately steps off the bed and holds a hand out for you. You place your hand in his palm as he hoists you up and out, pulling you into his chest and wrapping you in a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas, love” he murmurs onto the top of your head..

“Merry Christmas” You echo, savouring the warmth of his hug.

“Come on! I have a surprise for you!” He breaks the hug and reaches for your hand, dragging you out of the bedroom. He pulls you past the illuminated tree and into the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls fills the air. The smell transports you back to your childhood, your mother always would bake a batch of cinnamon rolls with orange glaze every Christmas morning. But that was something you never mentioned, Choso couldn't have possibly known that. Right?

He hands you a plate with a large cinnamon roll, your mouth watering. You don’t even wait to sit down for the first bite, fingers sticky with icing as you lift it to your lips. Teeth sinking into the still warm baked good. The sweet flavors coat your palette, and somehow they tasted exactly like your Mom’s famous treats. Her secret recipe that she refused to pass onto anyone, not even you.

“Choso…” you trail off, setting the cinnamon roll down on the plate and turning your gaze to his. He watches you full of pride and love. “How..” you start to ask, wanting to know how on earth he knew to make these, but he cuts you off.

“Come on” he says, one hand on your shoulder as he leads you over to the dining table. Your laptop propped open in front of two chairs. The second you can view the screen, you see them. Your parents.

“Merry Christmas honey!” they exclaim as you take a seat in front of them. A few tears spilling from your eye you didn't know were forming.

This was Choso’s big surprise. Ever so observant, he saw how much you were missing home and how much you wanted to see your family. He set the whole morning up, with help from your mom of course. He wanted you to be able to eat breakfast with your family just like you used to, no matter how far away they were.

His mom even taught him how to make her cinnamon rolls you loved so much, that way all of you could enjoy the same breakfast at the same time. Separated by a computer screen that felt barely there in the moment. It was like you teleported back home, eating with the family again.

After breakfast, it was Choso’s turn to get emotional.

The two of you sit on the floor in front of the Chtistmas tree, feeling like two little kids digging through your stockings. You were surprised to see he filled yours as well. Candy and your favorite collectable trinkets. He digs through his, making sure to mutter a ‘thank you’ for every little item he finds inside.

He pulls out the last item, the small wrapped box you placed inside last night. He holds it up, tossing a skeptical look your way.

“Thought we agreed to no presents?” he asks.

“I think it’s a bit too late for that.” you point to the contents from both of your stockings. He says nothing in response, knowing you're right. Neither of you ever had any intention of following the ‘no presents’ rule. “Just open it” you urge him.

His fingers slowly pull on the delicate ribbon until it falls away, then ripping away the wrapping paper. A small red box inside. He lifts off the lid and he stops. Momentarily stunned as he stares at the contents inside. Then, the waterworks start. Drops slipping from his eyes as he holds up the small ornament.

“Thank you! I love it.” he sniffles, wiping away the ever falling tears. You found the small snowman ornament online, one that was identical to yours and able to hold a picture inside. Inside the frame was a picture of you and Choso, standing in front of the freshly decorated tree. Your hand writing at the bottom saying ‘our first Christmas’ in red.

Your intention wasn't to make him cry, and you almost felt bad seeing him in this blubbering state. But your worries melt away as he pulls you in close, burying his face into the crook of your neck until the tears slow. He was always such a big softie, even though he pretends not to be.

“Thank you, this means so much to me” he whispers once he's calmed back down. Standing up to place his gift on the tree next to your matching first Christmas ornament.

Later that evening, the party is in full swing. Yuji and Nobara each with an arm linked around a grumpy Megumi, matching sweaters on the three of them. Maki and Yuta watch as Toge and Panda dance wildly to Rockin’ around the Christmas tree. Shoko scolds a tummy-aching Satoru for eating too many sweets after dinner.

Dinner was phenomenal, it was so fun to get everyone together in one place for a feast. A wide variety of food brought by the other staff, enough for everyone to get their fill and then some. You couldn’t believe how full you were, and judging by the look on your boyfriend’s face, he may have overindulged too. Even with the full bellies, everyone was excited to find the cookie versions of themself that Choso created.

Sitting in the living room, everyone starts to find their secret santa gifts. You watch as Nobara opens the one from you. Her eyes lighting up as she pulls out the tube of lipgloss. It’s from a brand she hasn't stopped talking about for the past four weeks. Yes, it may have been a tiny bit over the 25 dollar budget you set, but you wanted to splurge on your students. Nobara says a thousand thank yous as she applies it immediately, the color looking perfect on her.

You open your gift next, a large box with blue snowflake wrapping paper. Inside, it was filled to the brim with all sorts of candy. Many from luxury brands you have never heard of. While it wasn’t exactly what you wanted, you are still thankful. You are also excited to try the fancy chocolate bar with a name you can't pronounce. You know exactly who this is from, you spot the white haired sorcerer who is mouthing ‘you're welcome’ in your direction with a smirk.

Yuji opens his, pulling out a shirt with the letters spelling out ‘#1 LITTLE BROTHER’ across the front. Plastered on the back is a picture of him and Choso together, both making equally silly faces. Yuji breaks out in laughter as he holds the shirt up to show it off.

“Oh! I wonder who my secret santa could be!” He says sarcastically, smiling at his older brother.

It’s ironic really, as Choso pulls out his present. A red mug with the words ‘#1 BIG BROTHER’ across the side. Of course those two would get each other.

As the party starts to wind down, Choso stands up and waves a hand, beckoning you to follow him down the hall. You excuse yourself from the conversation with Shoko and trail after him. He stands in the middle of the hallway, the sounds of laughter getting fainter as you join him.

“I have one more gift for you” He whispers, pulling a small rectangle box behind his back. It’s beautifully wrapped, the paper resembling the bark from a birch tree. A neat green ribbon tying it together.

“You shouldn't have” You murmur, taking the gift from his hands. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Well…I wanted to.” He waits for you to open it. Part of you doesn’t want to disturb the expertly wrapped paper, the other part is dying to know what's inside. You tear it open, revealing a velvet black box. You hinge open the lid, inside is a pretty silver necklace. The charm at the end is a teardrop shaped gem, your birthstone.

“It’s so pretty” You say as you lift it out of the box, dangling the pendent in front of you. Your eyes catching on the way the gem dances in the light. “Put it on me?” you ask, holding it out for him. He takes it from you as you turn around, wrapping the chain around and gently securing the clasp, his breath hot on your neck. You turn back to face him, adjusting how the charm sits against your neck.

“How does it look?” You ask, he eyes you up and down.

“Beautiful, it looks amazing on you. I knew it would.” He smiles softly, taking a step closer, a hand placing itself on the small of your back. You suddenly feel a little guilty. The necklace seemed expensive, and you didn’t get him much in return. Just some treats and the Christmas ornament.

“Choso…I wish I would have gotten you something more in return.” you frown, but he just shakes his head.

“No, I don’t need fancy things. Besides, you already gave me the best present of all. You gave me the gift of Christmas. And I spent the whole day…no, the whole month, making precious memories with you. What more could I ask for?” His words touch your soul, burning hotter than the warmest summer day.

“Look up,” he says suddenly, pointing toward the ceiling with the hand not on your back. A small bundle of green leaves and white berries hang, tied together with a red bow. Mistletoe. You didn’t put this here when you were decorating, it must have been his doing.

“Did you do this?” you laugh looking into his eyes. He nods.

“When I was studying Christmas stuff...” he trails off sheepishly, his cheeks turning pink. “I read that this is a symbol of love. You know what people do under the mistletoe, right?” He asks, his eyes traveling to your lips as they curve in a smile.

“Yes, I know,” You say, wrapping your hands around his neck. One hand cradling the back of his head as you pull him closer. He keeps his hand pressed to your back while the other cups your cheek, his thumb stoking your soft skin as his lips close the distance. His lips moving against yours in a sweet and tender kiss. Pouring all of his burning love into the moment.

He pulls back, hooded eyes roaming your face. Hot breath as he whispers your name.

“I love you” He whispers against your lips before he goes in for another kiss. “I’ll always love you”

A/N: I hope all of you lovely readers have an amazing holiday!! :)

The linked pictures of the cookies were made by me. Feel free to follow my twitter!

If you enjoyed this fic, I have two ongoing JJK fanfics you may also like. Check out them out here.

dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#choso kamo #choso #i miss him #he needs 1000 kisses #choso my beloved #jjk fanfic #choso fluff

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