#and yeah just ignore me if you're not interested

[aleskie]

YOU DON'T NEED TO LIFT A FINGER | Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: When a guy just cannot get the hint, Jack makes sure to put him in his place. He's got your back. Always.

Warnings: none!! pure fluff and jack gets protective!! Full discloure, this is for realsies Fem!Reader!! Author's Note: This was supposed to come out a dayyyyys ago but Tumblr was NOT letting me post my drafts 😭😭 my poor therapist spent an hour watching me crash out about it najsjsshjjk

You were beautiful.

Of course you were.

In Jack’s eyes, you were the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth.

Which is why he understands why you get hit on. He really does. Hell, once upon a time, he was hitting on you. And he still hits on you, even now, years into the relationship, because you’re worth it. Because you light up rooms without even trying. Because he’s always been a sucker for the way you roll your eyes and smile at his cheesy attempts to be smooth with you.

You’re beautiful and smart and funny, and you’re so effortlessly charming—of course people would want you for themselves. He gets it. He really does. And honestly, there’s a part of him that loves it. He loves that people notice those qualities about you, that they see in you what he sees every day. It feels like validation, like the universe itself is confirming that he’s the luckiest guy alive. He basks in the knowledge that no matter how many people give you those hungry looks and shitty pick-up lines, he’s the one you're coming home with, his hand resting possessively on your hip as he gives all those people a smirk, his claim laid without him even lifting a finger.

What he doesn’t love is when people don’t take the damn hint.

And you give a lot of hints.

Take this guy right here—Dave, or Doug, or whatever his name is—He’d somehow wiggled his way into the booth you guys shared with your friends for a night out and, while he seemed harmless at first, he was now solely focused on you. And your legs that were highlighted by the body shimmer Jack helped put on you earlier tonight (his fingers still slightly shimmering to prove it—a badge of honor, in his opinion).

You’d been giving him that polite, fake smile since he joined in—the one Jack knows so well and that always makes him chuckle, the one you use when you’re being patient but are clearly not enjoying yourself—and you’ve barely paid him any attention, save for a few fake laughs and an “Oh, that sounds cool” every so often as Darren, or Dino, continues to brag about himself, not even trying to ask about you (a grave mistake, Jack thinks, since you were the most interesting person he knew).

Jack wonders if this guy even realizes you’ve been leaning against Jack this entire time, your head on his shoulder and his hand resting on your upper thigh, or if he’s chosen to ignore that in favor of trying (and failing) to shoot his shot. Better yet, does he even recognize Jack is here, drink untouched and jaw tightening as he watches Danny (or was it Dylan) lean in just a little too close?

Jack glances at you. You’re still handling it with grace, of course you are. You always do. But he knows you. He sees the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way you lean further against him to put some distance between you and Dexter, the way your fingers tighten around your glass, and he knows you’d rather not have to deal with this.

He shifts slightly and stands, leaning forward to smile at the intruder, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey, Diego, right?” he says. His tone is casual, even pleasant, but there’s steel underneath it.

“It’s Dave, actua—”

Jack extends a hand, cutting through the guy’s attempt at small talk. “Right, yeah. Sorry to interrupt, but I think my girlfriend and I are gonna go dance now.”

He puts an emphasis on girlfriend, just to make sure this guy gets the point.

Jack gives you a soft look, the kind that makes your breath hitch just a little, and you immediately stand up, reaching for him. His arm wraps around you instinctively, his touch steady and familiar. You can already feel the tension in his body lessening now that he has you close, now that he’s leading you away from whatever-his-name-is and back into the safe, easy rhythm of you and him.

But before you can leave, the guy speaks again.

“Sorry, man, didn’t realize she was yours. You know how women are. With that dress and those legs, she was totally leading me on.”

Jack freezes.

For a second, the world seems to pause, almost like he couldn’t believe what was coming out of this guy’s mouth, like he didn’t want to believe anyone could be that stupid.

Slowly, he straightens, turning back toward the guy—Dave or Doug or whatever his name was—with a look so calm it’s almost serene. Too calm. And that’s how you know Jack is angry.

Not the playful kind of angry, where he pretends to pout when you steal the last fry or kiss him everywhere but his lips. Not the frustrated kind, like when he can’t find his keys for the third time that week or when he’s had a particularly bad game.

No, this is something deeper. Colder. Controlled.

His fingers graze your arm lightly, a small, grounding touch meant just for you. It’s subtle, but you know what it means. I’ve got this. You don’t need to lift a finger.

Jack tilts his head ever so slightly. “You wanna say that again?” His voice is so even it borders on soft, a quiet thing wrapped in steel.

Dave—or Dino or Darryl—seems to think Jack is inviting him to elaborate, which is perhaps the worst decision he’s made all night.

“I’m just saying, y’know,” Dave shrugs, his tone shifting to something almost conspiratorial, like he thinks Jack might actually agree with him if he just explains it better. “When women dress like that, you can’t blame a guy for—”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to shut up before I do something we both regret.”

Jack doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. The weight of his words alone is enough to send a ripple of silence through the space between them.

Dave blinks, the beginning stages of intimidation creeping onto his face. He glances at you, as if expecting backup, but you’re already leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised as you watch Jack dismantle him.

There’s a small smirk on your lips. Because this? This was a sight you didn’t get to see in public too often.

Many times, people assumed your lovely boyfriend—so easygoing, so effortlessly charming—would lack the sharpness to cut someone down when needed, would stick to uhmms and ahhhs and crassnes.

They mistook his laid-back nature for passivity, his warmth for softness. But you knew better. Your Jack could be quite a wonder with words when he wanted to be. He didn’t need to be loud to command attention. He didn’t need to throw a punch to land a hit.

So you hang back and let him handle this one, finding comfort in the thought of his arms around you later, his breath warm against your ear as you danced the rest of the night away.

“Listen, buddy,” Jack continues, stepping closer. His tone is light, almost conversational, but there’s no mistaking the edge beneath it. “You don’t talk to anyone like that. You definitely don’t get to talk to her like that. You hear me?”

“God, c’mon, man! No need to get all—”

“I already told you to shut up.” Jack’s scowl deepens. His words are slow, deliberate. “The fact that she was polite enough to give you the slightest bit of attention doesn’t mean she was hitting on you. Whatever you thought was going on tonight? Not an invitation.”

Dave—Dino? Derek?—opens his mouth, probably to dig himself into an even deeper hole, but stops when Jack leans in slightly, just enough to make his presence feel heavier. Like a storm cloud about to break.

“She’s kind,” Jack says, voice quieter now, deadlier. “So she tolerated you. But she doesn’t owe you a fucking thing.”

The last of Dave’s bravado starts to crumble. His shoulders inch inward, his gaze flickering around the booth, searching for an exit, for reinforcements—for anything that might save him from this moment.

Jack watches him for a second longer, then exhales sharply, like he’s already bored. “You think being desperate and cocky gets you the girl,” he says, shaking his head. “But I don’t need any of that to keep her by my side.” His fingers brush against yours, finding their place like they always do. “And we don’t need to waste any more time entertaining douchebags like you.”

Jack steps back, his hand sliding fully into yours as he finally tears his gaze from Daniel? Don?—who cares?—and looks at you instead. The shift is immediate, his features easing, the sharpness in his eyes softening into something familiar. Something yours.

“Let’s go, babe,” he says simply, his voice lighter now, more like himself.

And just like that, the moment is over.

As you stand, letting Jack guide you away from the booth, you hear Dave mutter something under his breath—something weak and defensive that doesn’t deserve acknowledgment. It’s the kind of parting shot people throw out when they know they’ve lost. Neither of you glance back.

The music swells around you, the bass thrumming beneath your feet, but Jack doesn’t lead you straight to the dance floor. Instead, he pulls you toward a quieter corner, away from the crowd, where the lights are dimmer, the world a little smaller.

He exhales, then wordlessly nestles his head in the crook of your shoulder.

You smile, running your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly grazing his scalp. He sighs at the touch, his arms slipping around your waist as he lets himself melt into you for just a moment. You press a soft kiss to his hair, breathing him in, grounding both of you in something steady, something real.

After a beat, he tilts his head up, a sheepish grin playing at his lips. “Did I go overboard?”

You roll your eyes fondly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You were absolutely perfect,” you murmur, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

His grin widens, boyish and bright, and just like that, the weight of the night lifts. He tugs you closer, his arm tightening around your waist as he starts to sway you to the music. You laugh as he spins you unexpectedly, sneaking in kisses between the DJ’s transitions, his lips catching your temple, your jaw, the curve of your shoulder.

The man who bothered you is forgotten. The tension, the sharp edges of the night—gone.

All that’s left is this. You and him and the music. The warmth of his hands on you, the sound of your laughter melting together, the rest of the world fading into nothing.

[babygirlifiedshrimp]

eugenics camp. idk how else to describe "curing" people of their lifelong disabilities and differences in pursuit of "perfection" is literally anything less than eugenics, but who knows!! what do i know!!! im only disabled!!!

also, jayce!!! !!! revived!!!!!! viktor!!!!!!!!!! against his will!!!!! that is a true fact. viktor demanded he destroy the hexcore and jayce ignored him and refused to let him die. thats unhinged behavior. that's Not Normal. it was a violation of the laws of nature, viktor's consent, and his wishes. jayce is layered, yes!!! but he did quite literally let viktor continue his EUGENICS CAMP despite knowing exactly what it lead to in- what is implied to be- several timelines. after, again, reviving him against his will.

"he's not an unhinged immoral butcher" no!!! not in arcane he's not!!! did i say that?? can anyone read??? i said that it'd be interesting to make him hannibal or jd in au's. why????? because jayce! was not the 'good guy' in the end. all of this could have been avoided had jayce listened to heimerdinger and later, viktor, as they both emphasize the danger of the hexcore. he does not. he instead revived viktor against his will, was forced to kill him, and in the end, chose to die with him a final time. that's... insane, yeah. and beyond morally questionable.

but please, i know that any immorality in a character has less literate fans terrified to acknowledge they like a character, because good lord, what if we let people like bad guys??? then what?????

any implication that jayce is anything less than a beacon of morality and good- despite the fact he built weapons to kill zaunites, revived viktor, killed him, died with him, expelled his mentor from the council for him- is treason in this fandom, and acknowledging arcanes plotlines for what they are is just unheard of. but if you're really looking at arcane and thinking that jayce is just some goofy wifeguy with the weight of the world on his shoulders, you know- sure, man, don't let me get in the way of that. these are literal pixels on a screen.

frankly its hot when jayce talis is worse than viktor. that man is insane. make HIM jd. MAKE HIM HANNIBAL. like yeah he's polite and smiles real pretty sure but like... jayce expelled his former professor from the council that he helped establish at the mere idea that viktor's chance at life might be threatened.

HE PUT THE HEXCORE INTO VIKTOR. REVIVED HIM AGAINST HIS WILL WITH THE SCIENCE PROJECT HE PROMISED TO DESTROY. WILLINGLY ALLOWED HIM TO CONTINUE HIS EUGENICS CAMP IN SEVERAL TIMELINES. HELLO???? HE'S INSANE!!!!

that man has no morals no ethics no nothing when it comes to viktor. its him and his evil scary bug princess against literally anything that may stand in the way of that. viktor couldn't escape jayce if he tried. i'm begging on my hands and knees PLEASEEE

[laurentidal]

Catch

Easy prey for me, I'll admit. I enjoy a challenge more often than not, but I'm not so egotistical as to say I'll never eat low hanging fruit.

Lily struck me right away. Tattoos from neck to toe and dripping in Pokemon memorabilia. She was a sight. Not usually my type, to be sure. But the tits under that Squirtle. They were not to be ignored.

I introduced myself as the owner of the shop she'd wandered into. It wasn't legally true, but thanks to a little lady who was currently helplessly finger fucking herself in the back office, it would be by this time tomorrow.

She nodded politely to me and continued browsing. I followed behind a few paces. I didn't want to scare her off, thought I think that even the brief encounter would have been enough for her to stay nearby. I have a… way with people. They're drawn to me and naturally inclined to do as I ask. With a bit of concentration and the right prompting, I can get people to do almost anything.

"Which is your favorite?" I asked gesturing to her shirt as I pretended to cross her path again.

She looked down at her chest, breasts stretching the fabric wonderfully, and for a moment I thought she might have answered "left" or "right."

"Smeargol," she answered simply, and upon seeing my curious expression happily elaborated. "He's a painter."

"Ah so it's art-related. Makes sense with the tattoos. Mine is probably Hypno."

"Interesting choice," she said, taking a drink.

"I've always been obsessed with the mind. It's an incredible thing. It creates whole worlds for us to live in." I could feel her getting more and more comfortable with me. In a short time, she now considered us close friends.

"Yeah that's true. I like how something like a dumb cartoon can explore topics without getting boring."

"Pokemon has a lot of strange themes. One that always struck me was the relationship between trainer and pokemon. Are they friends? Pets? Slaves?"

She took a long pull from her drink as she thought about that.

"l mean you wouldn't make a pet fight someone else's pet. They seem a lot like slaves to me. Slaves that do whatever their owner wants."

Her lack of a bra was beginning to show more obviously as we spoke and she fell more and more into my field of influence.

"But," she stammered, "they can disobey if they aren't friends with their owners."

"Or if their owners are weak," I agreed. "But they often don't get a say on who their owner is. He just swoops in one day and uses his balls to trap them."

At the word balls, she audibly sighed, though I don't think she even noticed she'd done it.

"Are we friends?" I asked.

"Sure," she agreed a little too quickly.

"And I'm strong. I've steered this whole conversation. Leading you along on each point."

She nodded.

"And I've swooped in out of the blue and am trying to claim you. Are you going to let me? Or…,"

I pointed at her shirt again, "are you just a little wild pokemon who doesn't have a choice?"

"No choice," she whispered as she stared into my eyes.

"Now why don't you come into the back office and I can show you the thing that all captured pokemon need. And you can see the other specimen I've caught today. I think you're going to get along nicely."

She simply nodded, eyes lowering to look at the bulge in my jeans. Too easy.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, consider buying me a coffee. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[asexualbookbird]

It sure has been a Year huh. Ups and downs this month, as life happens. Saw friends I haven't seen in years, went into the city and met new friends, tried new foods, saw some birds, tried new crafts, read new books.

The Fireborne Blade by Charlotte Bond ⭐️⭐️⭐️ - Hm! Interesting! Didn't hate it, but something feels missing? Almost like it could've benefited from being at the very least a short novel. It needed more. I also have qualms at this being pitched as sapphic when there is no romance at all and the main character talks a lot about being betrayed by her last romance with a man. One mention of Woman With Hot Thighs. Not mad I read it, might even read it again.

That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon by Kimberly Lemming ⭐️⭐️ ‐ I'll be honest, one star is Mean but I had a lot more fun reading Fourth Wing and that was two stars. The tone is what dragged this one down for me. It reads like YA, but it's very much not. I do not believe for a second the MC is 24, she doesn't act like it at all. The sex scenes. Are there. I could make an entire post about the book ending on them having penetrative PiV sex. Part of my grievances are me not liking the genre, but I truly think this just isn't that good. Plenty of people on the internet write better more filthy works for free. Why was this sitting unassumingly on the library shelf.

*amended to two stars if this is indeed satire

The Dead Cat Tail Assassins by P Djèlí Clark ⭐️⭐️⭐️ - Fine. Not much to say because it was Completely Average. Not mad I read it, but don't wish to repeat the experience. I think maybe Clark isn't an author for me, as I recall feeling similarly about A Master of Djinn. It's not so much that the characters or world feel flat, but something definitely feels missing. It was silly and lighthearted and gory and I did like that though!

The Spellshop by Sarah Beth Durst ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ - Another hit from Sarah Beth Durst. I see your Themes. I see your Tropes. Kindness. Found family. Accepting help. All personal attacks on me. Adorable, fun, some sort of cross between T Kingfisher and Becky Chambers, I didn't want it to end, and now have a name for my spider plant. It also seems like I need to get my spider plant a friend.

The Woods All Black by Lee Mandelo ⭐️⭐️ - I have very mixed feelings about this that are really summarized as This Wasn't For Me. I like the idea that yeah you're a monster but someone loves you anyway. I like using the monster to punish those who called you one. I think there's some very specific midwestern religious trauma that I'm missing to really Get It, though. On top of that, while I recognize the themes and significance in the age gap, a 30 year old going after an 18 year old icks me out. I'd still recommend it with very very heavy reservations.

The Spare Man by Mary Robinette Kowal ⭐⭐ - Going to be honest, I just finished this and I'm already moving on. The writing was fine and I'm not put off of the author entirely, but I never felt wowed. I was annoyed more than anything. I didn't love any of the characters, but I didn't really hate anyone either. The amount of people Tesla let pet her service dog drove me nuts. The ending felt slapped together. It never really felt cohesive. I feel vindicated reading that fans of her other books also were unimpressed with this. I wouldn't steer people away from it, but I didn't have a lot of fun.

I'm tentatively excited for February. I have art ideas I'd like to get started on, I am working on a craft thing that I might be able to profit a bit off of, I'm flat out ignoring the world, book club is approaching. I'm looking for good things in the world, and I will find them. That is a threat.

[silverysnake]

i was tagged by @theoniprince and @schuerk thank again :)

I'm just gonna go ahead and tag all the mutuals (except the ones who already tagged me):

@sherlocksdriedplant @longliveustherecklessandthebrave @dunkelrotzuschwarz @dasloddl @keineahnung-ichhalt @krimiqueer @daency @bonsaibovine @lyxchen @sheepybee @pumpking64 @sokoleipzigfamily @anotherobsessedfangirl @letsbealone-together @its-imber @sprotteslaettberg @bookandpencil @queercowboyinspace @two-hearts-beat @honestlyunbearableprincess @strawberryspence @captainliam3 @superwho-ace @innocentbi-stander @shadow-of-a-cloud @cynyxx @thewindandthewolves @inkedrings @conchshell @crystalsgalaxy @nrecoveryn @ancient-namess

(sorry for spam tagging if you're not interested just ignore me)

[icewindandboringhorror]

Would most people realistically use 'carry' and 'convey' as synonyms in typical speech?? Seems a slightly reaching comparison to me lol

[longagoitwastuesday]

On the one hand, I don't believe Megumi and Gojo were ever too close, even if their apparent closeness called my attention since their first scene together because of the way they behaved and talked to each other.

On the other hand, Megumi was a fifteen years old with a lot of problems, a pretty bad childhood and a bit of an attitude to say the least, and Gojo, besides Tsumiki, was the "paternal" figure he could turn against

[icybreaths]

// New rule to be added; since I'm only looking for one canon to ship Jewel with/am essentially a single ship blog (she has 3 ships, 2 with OCs, but only the canon could be written by another, hence 'single ship'), I will only ship with a blog that functions the same way. No multishipping blogs. I can't do it anymore.

I realize I'm basically shooting myself in the foot in terms of finding a ship partner (bc most people multiship), but it's been on my mind, and I'm honest to the universe tired of - every situation where someone shows interest in my OC and my ideas and wants to work on a ship - only to toss her to the wayside when someone else comes along. I put a lot of work into Jewel; she's my joy! And I deserve an rp partner who's just as excited about her and the ship as I am. I know my ideas are good damnit, and I know my ship is really fucken good. They deserve better.

She doesn't deserve to be 'ship hoarded' by someone and not interacted with at all. She doesn't deserve to be shelved because the other ships are more engaging/lewd/they have muse only for that other ship always and forever. It's happened so much that I feel cursed, like I'm doing something wrong, and I shouldn't feel like that because I know I haven't done anything wrong.

Ugh I could textwall about this background 'blog arc' lmao. I'll update my shit later.

[anarkhebringer]

I woke up to this and am really thinking about this

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

.

[chiistarri]

what if instead of messaging me in the middle of the night about your stupid fucking girlfriend and your stupid fucking problems with her you actually act like my fucking friend and message me like how you message everyone else in our group

[foxskip]

Not to be a #hater but they rly did make the wrong Superboy bi (it should've been Konnnnnn)

HELLO ???????????????

[mako-island-moon-pool]

I really do deserve a fucking apology for all the times my friends and family valued strangers on the internet and their opinions more than me

How am I supposed to be just fine with being ignored for years and years or bullied for openly liking what I like, only for those same fucking people to then turn around YEARS LATER, AFTER THE DAMAGE WAS ALREADY DONE, and be like "actually this is cool, so glad I found it" while still ignoring me. Why am I not allowed to be fucking pissed about it? Why is it considered ""gatekeepy"" when I get upset someone who deliberately ignored me for years and insulted the shit I enjoy when I asked them to get into it cuz I thought they'd like it suddenly finds interest in it because it got popular online, not because I'd been begging them to give it a chance and to listen to me for years???? Why is that not allowed????? THAT'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE MOVE, WHY IS IT 'NOT OKAY' TO BE MAD? WHY DON'T THEY GROW A SPINE AND APOLOGIZE FOR DISMISSING ME FIRST? HOW ABOUT THAT?????

[alyatg]

oh to pour your heart out while messaging someone, only for them to ignore that specific part making you wonder if they even read it, didn't care, or are actively choosing to ignore and not respond

[yeleltaan]

//As is usually the case around this time of the year, I’m terribly busy with studies and it’s been hard for me to do things on the blog in the little spare time I have, I can’t focus very well.

It will pass soon, and hopefully after that I can resume the work of giving this blog a little more life. The itch to write is still there and I can’t wait to be free to scratch it.

[jjk4isen]

ꗃ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃, 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 .

❝ answer me. did you think of her when you're in bed with me? when you're kissing me and holding me— was she the one on your mind? ❞

summary: it's hard knowing you aren't really the person in toji's heart but loving him was something you still did regardless. as for toji, he thinks he's ready to give you his all.

desc: 2.8k words, f!reader (referred to as ‘mama’), canon compliant i think, takes place after mamaguro's death and before toji’s, age gap (early 20s reader, early 30s toji), baby gumi ahhhhh, sfw, angst to fluff to angst again lol, intended lowercase, think you're tsumiki’s mom but without tsumiki bc the relations would be too complicated and also the second wife erasure in the canon storyline?? yeah it's reserved specifically for this fic, not proof read i fear but pls read it's really interesting i can swear by it lmaoqhdhns

dating a widowed man with a son wasn't easy especially when the said man is still in love with his former wife, or rather, his wife who had died.

love is often beautiful but sometimes it's unfair. it can also be cruel. what other reason would make you still stay despite knowing you'll never measure upto the person who had been here before you?

and you've heard stories about her. she was sweet, so beautiful— not just in her appearance but her entire being was beautiful. there always was an ache in your heart upon just the mention of her name.

so how much more would it have ached for toji?

“mama” the spiky haired boy, barely two years old calls you and you realise the silence in the room. “not mama, i’m nana okay?” sick.

nana. not mama but close enough. it doesn't matter anyway, n and m are just letters and next to each other so how much difference would that make? you're the one that's here after all, are you not?

if there's a lump in your throat and your eyes are burning with unshed tears, you force yourself to ignore.

“okay nana” megumi nuzzles his face into your chest, slowly drifting away to sleep. the boy always liked cuddling with you and it melts your heart immensely.

your hands strand through his dark hair. people always said he's the carbon copy of his dad but you'd like to differ. megumi has his mother's eyes and his hair resembled hers more than it did his dad's.

the thought sends another ache in your chest but you push it away– as you always have.

you recall the last time toji had heard megumi call you “mama”. you had never seen toji that livid. he was never a gentle man to begin with but that night, there was nothing else you've been more scared of.

was he like that to his wife? maybe not.

does that matter though? it's not like toji treats you badly. he's decent and loves you an enough amount. you weren't crazy enough to stay when you're not wanted so that must mean you were something to him right?

you also recall the whispers of pity and condemnation thrown at you for just being with toji. him being a brute is one thing but the difference in age is what people seem to have a problem with. you're so much younger than him and have your whole life ahead of you so why are you entrapping yourself this way?

you disagree though. love doesn't know any age and you definitely aren't naive to be head over heels over a guy just because he's relatively older. no, this was real and genuine.

a faint knock disrupts your train of thoughts. “he sleepin’?” toji nods towards the small boy in your arms and you nod back in return.

taking care not to wake the sleeping kid, you slowly pry his hands away from you and pull over a blanket to cover his small body.

when you make your way towards toji, he wastes no time in pulling you closer “missed you” he mumbles, placing a kiss onto your forehead and suddenly all thoughts plaguing your mind disappears. that's all you could ask for, even if it was just for a moment.

“i missed you more” you whisper back, he only huffs out an amused chuckle.

“got bad news though” a frown finds itself on his lips, decorated by a single scar next to it.

“did you lose all your money again?” toji was a gambling addict, another thing you forced yourself to tolerate just for him.

“sorry, doll. thought i’d win this time” he rubs small circles on your back comfortingly and it makes you a bit uneasy to know that he has his way with you so easily.

“it's alright. i’ll just find another part time job”

“so good to me” toji pulls you into his chest and you let out a sigh— of exhaustion? relief? you couldn't really tell but that's not important, toji had you in his arms.

“i’ll try and think of something too. don't worry your pretty little head too much” he lifts you up with ease. while you're in his arms, you feel the safest.

toji really felt bad this time. he was confident he would win but that stupid horse had to trip and lose its lead, ending up last of all places. he knows luck never favoured him but that's didn't stop him from trying again and again and again.

he also knows how you didn't say anything more than necessary about it but he isn't that much of an idiot either. he sees how your expression falters and your shoulders slump a little more when he comes home with another news of his gambling loss.

this is also why he tries, or rather, tried to quit — one too many times, unbeknownst to you. however, old habits die hard and most of the time (everytime) toji gives into his urge and loses yet again. the cycle keeps happening.

maybe this isn't just about gambling.

with the way you're asleep so soundly next to him after putting his son to sleep and taking care of him too, he is overcomed with yet another feeling to be better for you and megumi alike.

toji isn't a gentle man; everyone knows that, you do too — even more than anybody else but he can't help the familiar pool of warm feelings surging through him the longer he stares at your peaceful state.

he remembers the last time he felt it, with another person. it felt like a lifetime ago.

he also remembers how painful it was when he lost it — the person, the feeling altogether. his hands that were making their way to caress your face stops mid air.

toji knows you deserve so much better. you've been nothing but patient to him, so amazing, so perfect to him. still, he just can't do it yet, just not yet.

he will eventually, he hopes you stay until then.

toji wakes up to an empty bed and his heart sinks a little but the creases and wrinkles on the sheets serve as a reminder that you were really here.

he makes his way towards the kitchen, only finding megumi sitting on a chair next to the dining table.

“hey kid, where's your mama?”

toji freezes. it came out so naturally he didn't realise he said it himself and almost thinks he didn't but megumi's wide eyes prove that he actually did.

“m…mama?” megumi says hesitantly and toji nods this time. “yes, your mama”.

“potty potty!” megumi points to the bathroom and giggles, toji follows suit. the man crouches to his son's eye level and pats his head.

“you love your mama, kid?” toji sees megumi's eyes sparkle as the boy nods enthusiastically “very very much!!”

“yeah? i love your mama too.”

toji smiles to himself, he can't wait to tell that to you.

the next time toji got his pay, he finds himself hesitating. instead of heading towards the race tracks, his feet takes him to a jewellery store.

instead of picking out a slot and testing his luck, he picks out a ring. it's not fancy by any means but he thinks it would be the most beautiful band of metal to exist if it slides into your ring finger.

the tiny ring carries all the heavy feelings he has for you.

──

it was one particular evening when you saw an old man lingering by the front gate. its particular because the warm sunset and the soft cool breeze contrasted the ground breaking truth you find out.

“can i help you?” you ask the old man who looks at you up and down, not making an attempt to hide his distaste of your sight.

“is this where toji zenin lives?” he stares down at you with his scrutinising gaze; it makes you feel small.

“zenin?” you ask, confused. is he referring to toji? but his last name is fushiguro is it not?

“yes toji zenin. i heard he has a son as well. you're not the mother are you?”

is it that obvious? you wonder how the old man figured it out. regardless, you're not about to give him his answers so you stood your ground.

“i’m sorry i don't know what you're talking about.” you turn around, about to head inside when his words make you stop short.

“are you fushiguro?”

that's toji’s last name isn't it? not zenin or whatever he called it. so why is he asking you that? is he implying that you're married to toji?

“no. you have the wrong person.”

“why? did he say not to get involved with anyone from his clan?” the old man draws closer, chucking to himself. you're just there unmoving, trying to comprehend the situation and the words coming from his mouth.

“or did he not tell you that either? did he tell you anything at all?” he stands tall in front of you, tearing away bits of yourself with every word he says.

“when he returns, tell him the clan wants to propose him an offer. you can do that much at least won't you?”

…

and when toji comes home that night with the ring cluched tightly in his fist and inside the pocket of his white pants, the world stills.

he finds you in a state he has never seen you before. you look completely and utterly defeated.

“hey, what's wrong?” his hands come to caress your face so effortlessly, the ring and prior nervousness long forgotten.

“talk to me what's going on?” he looks around and the house seems emptier than usual. your laundry that were usually hanging with his were gone.

your small trinkets you placed around the house to “make it more lively” were nowhere to be found.

and there's a bag in the corner of the room which toji prays and hopes he isn't what he thinks it is.

your hands push away his own that were cupping your face. you're not even looking at him.

“say something damn it!”

you flinch and toji takes a step back. he recalls the last time you trembled in fear — when he got mad megumi called you his mom. he punishes himself for it.

“im sorry. please talk to me.” he isn't touching you now but he wants to. he wants to reach out and pull you close, as he always had done. but now there's an unbearable silence and the small distance between you both felt like lightyears away.

“who's zenin” your voice was meek, barely a whisper but toji's eyes widen. how did you find out about that?

no fuck that, he was supposed to be the one telling you. in his own time.

“i can explain” was all that came out of him. he's nervous, he doesn't know where to start. there's a lot of information to unpack and he's not sure how to do it without hurting you too much.

when he doesn't elaborate, you ask another “who's fushiguro then?” your voice falters a bit and toji curses himself for it.

but he's done running away and keeping things from you. “my… my late wife” he says wryly.

your eyes close and a shaky breath leaves your body, as if he just confirmed your worst suspicions. damn life is so funny isn't it? everything you thought you knew apparently wasn't what it seemed to be after all.

opening them again, your vision blurs and you realise tears were escaping your eyes. fuck you didn't want to cry now of all times but they won't stop.

and the way toji was looking at you, it makes you want to throw up.

“i must've been so stupid to you” you let out a humourless chuckle. “did you pretend im her?”

your gaze was sharp and so were your words. maybe all your bottled up feelings were resurfacing. it doesn't make you feel better about it but that doesn't stop you though.

“answer me. did you think of her when you're in bed with me? when you're kissing me and when you're holding me, was she the one on your mind??” your voice was loud now. you should be afraid of waking up megumi who you cradled to sleep just a few hours ago but no, your thoughts are too clouded right now.

toji sighs. he has no excuse.

“i used to” he actually looks ashamed as if he wasn't the one who did it purely out of his will.

your scoff makes him wince “but not anymore.”

his words fall on deaf ears “you know… i knew you did. but i stayed regardless because i thought there would be a chance that maybe one day, you could open up your heart to me. im not even asking for all of it, just a little… i thought you'd let me in.”

you're blabbering and honestly, so distraught.

“but not a moment was there when it was me isn't it? it was always her in the first place.”

now toji should have said something, anything but he stays there planted in place. and maybe that was your breaking point.

you turn around, grabbing your bag and brushing past him towards the door. instead of holding onto you and stopping you, toji clutches the small box containing the ring — your ring in his pocket, almost crushing it in the process, as he hears the door slam.

you think it's funny how toji did not reach out after what happened. it's poetic even. very fitting of him, till the very end, he did not give two shits about you.

so then, why were you back here?

it's been four long years since the trajectory of your life changed. you still don't know if it was for the better or for the worse.

saying it has been hard would be an understatement. it took you a long time just to get back onto your own feet but you did it regardless. however, you left a part of you here long ago and now, you're here to take it back.

that and you missed megumi dearly. perhaps it was an excuse too because you won't deny a part of you still missed toji, despite everything that happened.

standing a few feet away from the place you used to call home, you hesitate.

maybe this was a bad idea. oh this was definitely a bad idea. you'll see them, and then what? what comes after that?

closure? don't make yourself laugh. you’ll just be reminded of how you couldn't be that person for toji— how you'll always come second. and what if they moved?? there's no reason they'd still be here right?

forget this, you don't need to do this. why must you still be the one who put effort? to reach out? four long years passed and still no news means they clearly moved on... right?

you were convinced enough and was about to go back when you saw little megumi carrying a backpack on his back, seemingly coming home from school.

your feet wouldn't move and your eyes wouldn't blink. he grew up so well.

the world pauses as your gaze follows the kid you used to consider your own, now as good as a stranger.

“do you know that kid?” a voice at your back makes you whip your head around. life really is full of surprises and this time, the surprise was in the form of a tall man, no a tall kid with white hair, looking at you curiously through his round tinted glasses.

“... no i don't” well you weren't exactly lying. you don't know the megumi you see now. perhaps if he asked whether you raised him since he was a baby till he was two, then your answer would've been different.

“oh okay” the boy shrugs. “poor guy though”

“why? whats up with him?” you turn to look at megumi again who was minding his business walking home and your heart aches a little.

“I'm here to recruit him. his dad died you see so he's–”

“wait what was that??”

“his dad. he's dead” the amused boy in front of you chuckles and you stare at him, horrified.

“what happened to him?” your voice was shaky and doesn't sound like your own. he leans down to meet your eye level and smirks “why? i thought you don't know that kid. why does that matter to you?”

your stomach churns as you stare at him, not even knowing what to say— the smug expression on his face only widens.

“so you do know him.”

'know' would be a weak word to use when it comes to toji. you knew of his habits, the simple things he does and also of the more complex ones — like the exact place his scar decorated his lips and how it felt to kiss it.

then again, you don't really know anything about him and maybe you never will.

and maybe that's really, the closure you needed.