#fushiguro x y/n

[mononijikayu]

only fools fall for you (only fools) — fushiguro toji.

Toji let out a bitter laugh, low and humorless. "You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t see the way you choose this life over them? Over me?" "I’m doing this for them too, you bastard." you snapped, gripping the phone so tightly your fingers ached. "So they have something to hold onto. So they never have to struggle the way we did." "Bullshit." The word hit like a slap. “What do you mean by that?” "You’re doing this for you. Just like I do it for me." His voice wasn’t angry anymore. If anything, that made it worse. He just sounded tired.

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, nsfw, r-18, explicit smut, sexual intercourse, making out, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, creampie, angst, romance, teasing, hurt/comfort, pet names (babe, etc....), age gap (reader is early 40s, toji mid 50s), marriage, long-term relationship, infidelity/cheating, toxic relationship, illness, drama, slice of life, married life, emotional repression, family life, children, distress, regret, longing, profanity, acting, actors, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of naked bodies, depiction of emotional repression, mention of sexual innuendo, depiction of illness, mention of sexual intercourse, mention of secrets, mention of toxic relationship, mention of illness, actor! toji, actor! nanami, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 16k words

NOTE: i realized that the more i expounded on this universe, the more there i had to alter things because if i dont they might become plot holes. i edited the ages here. toji's reader is much younger than he is. though its certain to say there was a power imbalance, even if they dated when she was like 19 to 20. all the more to say there's nothing to root for in this relationship.

they were together in the beginning of reader's career and now that she's much older too. she's maybe gojo's age. nanami's reader is in the same age ranger as toji and nanami. the kids though are around the same ages. though tsumiki is at least six years younger than keiko and kenshin is a year or two older than tsumiki. anyway, i love you all!!! enjoy the series~

masterlist

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the good life ― masterlist.

TODAY WAS EIGHTEEN YEARS OF MARRIAGE FOR THE TWO OF YOU. If you were being honest, you never thought you both would ever get here. Not because you didn’t love him. If anything, loving Toji was the one thing that had always come easy. It was just as easy as breathing, just as grievous as your eyes starting into the light of the blistering sun.

There was a lot that came together with such a marriage between people like you. It was everything that you didn’t think was hard before all the deliverance of parenthood. Everything you weren’t used to. Everything that just made it a little harder to leave. Everything that made it a little harder to stare at your husband in the eye. 

There was too much that could have gone on in those eighteen years. You could barely count it. You could barely recall it. It would not be enough to sit there and talk about it either. But that was just how it was. There will always be distance, sacrifices, and to make it even worse, that putrid stubborn pride that ran deep in both of you.

You were both actors, constantly chasing roles, dreams, and paychecks, all while being parents to your young children, Tsumiki and Megumi, who, more often than not, lived with nannies more than they lived with you or Toji, regrettably.

Yet you both tried to be there, as much as you could. There should, unfortunately, be great emphasis on trying, for you were only good at trying but not succeeding. There could only be so much you could do so well before you end up admitting defeat.

Everything was hectic. Chaotic. The kind of life people envied from the outside but had no idea was slowly eroding you from the inside. One year, it was you flying across the world for a project, kissing their sleepy faces goodbye while Toji stayed home. 

The next, it was him, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as he whispered, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Except it was never before you knew it.

It was long nights filled with blurry video calls, your kids’ faces pixelated as they recounted their days with excitement you struggled to keep up with. It was birthdays missed, watching Tsumiki blow out candles through a screen, clapping and smiling as if you didn’t feel like the worst mother alive. It was Megumi getting hurt at school, calling Toji first—not you.

There was a bitter realization that, at some point, you had fallen from first place in your children’s list of people to run to. And each time there was an incident like that, there were whispered arguments over the phone when the time difference meant you were half-asleep, his voice tight with frustration. You couldn't help it. You were a mother, who couldn’t be there. You were a bad mother, that’s what you think. Because you didn’t know how to help them.

“You said you’d be back last week.”

"Yeah, well, the shoot got extended. What do you want me to do, walk out?"

Your voice came out sharper than you intended, frustration laced in every syllable. You were exhausted, standing in the dim glow of your hotel room, the weight of the day pressing against your shoulders. 

The clock on your phone read 2:37 AM at the time. Back home, it was the middle of the afternoon. You were sure that Megumi’s soccer practice was probably ending, and Tsumiki was likely doing her homework at the dining table.

And your husband Toji, well he was at home. Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was at the gym, or out drinking, or somewhere else entirely. The fact that you didn’t know only made your irritation flare hotter than ever before. 

"For once in your goddamn life, just—just be here."

There was a beat of silence. Static crackled softly between you. Then, your husband Toji exhaled, rather long and slow, the way he always did when he was trying not to lose his temper. The way he had always been told at therapy.

"And what, you think I don’t want to be?" His voice was quieter now, but sharp, a blade dulled only at the edges. "You think I don’t want to be with them? With you?"

You scoffed, rubbing your temple. "If you wanted to be here, you would be."

"That’s rich, coming from you."

Your breath caught. Because he was right. He was always right about this. You left just as much as he did. You buried yourself in work, in scripts, in characters that weren’t you because it was easier than admitting that being at home, being a wife, being a mother….it was sometimes harder than anything a director could throw your way.

Toji let out a bitter laugh, low and humorless. "You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t see the way you choose this life over them? Over me?"

"I’m doing this for them too, you bastard." you snapped, gripping the phone so tightly your fingers ached. "So they have something to hold onto. So they never have to struggle the way we did."

"Bullshit."

The word hit like a slap. “What do you mean by that?”

"You’re doing this for you. Just like I do it for me." His voice wasn’t angry anymore. If anything, that made it worse. He just sounded tired.

And maybe that was the worst part of it all is that he knew you too well. That no matter how much you tried to justify it, no matter how many times you told yourself you were building a better future for your family, Toji saw right through it. He saw you. Just as much as you saw through him.

"You’re the one who told me we’d figure it out," he said after a long silence. "That we’d make it work. So tell me, sweetheart—when does that part start?"

You didn’t answer.

Because you didn’t know.

Toji had always hated fighting over the phone, always saying it was pointless when you couldn’t look each other in the eye. But that didn’t stop you. Not when resentment had been festering for years, not when every conversation started feeling like a negotiation instead of a moment to miss each other.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It was never just him. It was never just you. It was the both of you, forever chasing something outside of each other, stretching ourselves too thin and expecting love to hold it all together. And yet, even when the walls closed in, even when the bitterness threatened to tip the scale, you both stayed. Even if staying only meant trying over and over again. Even when it was already beyond repair.

You couldn’t help yourself. You just couldn’t.

Because how could you be, without him?

There were times when you wished one of you had been strong enough to walk away. It would have been easier, wouldn’t it? To throw in the towel, sign the papers, make a clean break instead of dragging each other through years of exhaustion and unspoken wounds. It would have been merciful. 

But mercy had never been your strong suit. Neither had Fushiguro Toji’s. Instead, you stayed in this cycle of breaking and mending, pushing and pulling, making love and making war, until you couldn’t tell the difference between them anymore.

"Have you ever thought about leaving?"

You had asked him once, during one of those rare nights when you both found yourselves in the same bed, staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping. There were no cameras, no scripts, no rehearsed lines around you, nothing that could stop the truth from coming out of your lips.

It was just the two of you, tangled in silence, caught between the weight of everything you had built and everything you had broken. Toji didn’t answer right away. He just exhaled, long and heavy, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Yeah." The honesty of it stung, but not as much as his next words. “Multiple times.”

“Well, that’s the most honest you’ve been with me.”

“At least not while I’m drunk.” He says almost too quickly after you. Silence dwells for a moment after his breath. "But then I remember I don’t know what the fuck I’d do without you, babe. I really don’t."

You turned your head, searching for something in his profile. There was that familiar furrow in his strong brow, the line of his jaw, the way his fingers drummed a slow, absentminded rhythm against his well toned stomach.

"That’s not…….you know what I mean, Toji." 

He snorted, dry and humorless. "Never said it was.”

“But…..do you love me?”

“What sort of question is that?” He snickers back at you. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Those three words have become a taboo between the two of you. Only fools said those sorts of things to each other. It was too sacred, too honest, too passionate, too loving, too good. These were things you and Toji have long stopped being. 

A beat passed. A breath. And then, before you could stop yourself, before you could think about the consequences of asking, the words slipped out. "Not even when Tsumiki isn’t yours?"

This time, Toji didn’t hesitate at all with his response. He let out a sharp, cynical laugh, the kind that wasn’t really a laugh at all. You could see the way his muscle tenses each time the talk is brought up between the two of you—even in childish fights. You wanted to see each other hurt. You wanted to see each other burn.

And yet, this moment was real. It was tender. You meant it this time, to ask him about this. Not out of malice, not to exploit him where it hurts. Instead, you meant it with all your heart. You were finally being genuine.

"I cheated on you, and that’s the result." His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. 

No excuses, no justifications. The truth, laid out in the open between you. The one neither of you ever talked about, the one you had swallowed down for years, pretending it didn’t fester beneath the surface. He turned his head then, finally looking at you, dark eyes unreadable in the dim light of your bedroom.

"But that’s the past." His voice was quieter now, but firmer, like it was something he had told himself over and over again. Like it was something he needed to believe.

“Yes.” You whispered to him in reply, just as quietly. “It is.”

"She’s my daughter." His fingers clenched slightly against the sheets before he forced them to relax. "Not anyone else’s. Just mine.”

You swallowed. Because you knew Toji meant it. He had never treated Tsumiki any differently, never once let her believe she was anything other than his. He had tucked her into bed, taught her how to ride a bike, held her when she cried over scraped knees and schoolyard heartbreaks. 

And yet, you had wondered—selfishly, cruelly—if he had ever resented her.

 If he had ever looked at her and seen the biggest mistake of his life.

"Do you ever think about it?" you whispered, because you needed to know.

Toji exhaled sharply through his nose. "Every fucking day."

The admission settled between you like a bruise, dark and aching. “....I see.”

"But not the way you think." His hand found yours then, fingers slipping between yours, rough and warm, calloused from years of fights and work and holding on too tightly.

“What do you mean by that?”

"I don’t think about the way she got here." He squeezed your hand once. "I just think about what my life would look like if she wasn’t in it."

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. "And?"

Toji’s lips twitched, something softer flickering across his expression before it faded just as quickly. "And it’d be a hell of a lot worse."

You turned your head back to the ceiling, blinking against the tightness in your throat. "Yeah."

And just like that, the past. All the ugly, unspoken, unforgivable past seemed to settle back into silence. Where it always had been. Where it always would be. But he had reached for your hand, fingers tangling with yours, holding tight. And you had let him. 

Maybe that was all you had left now. It was not truthful love, not at all. It was not as bright. It was not that burning thing it had once been, but something else. Yet maybe that was for the best. You would not have lasted this long without it.

You were content with this, your little something. Something quieter. Something heavier. Something built from shared history, shared destruction, and the fear of a world where the other no longer existed in it. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t right. But it was yours. And for eighteen years, it had been enough.

You swirl the wine in your glass, watching how the deep red clings to the sides. It reminds you of the past, of nights spent drowning in resentment, of fights that left unseen wounds, of years where you weren’t sure whether you hated him or hated yourself more.

You glance at Toji. He looks the same as he always does. Still rough around the edges, too handsome for his own good, wearing that perpetual smirk like life has never been cruel to him. But you know better. You see the things no one else does. The guilt that still lingers on both your hearts, the weight of  endless mistakes that can’t ever be undone.

"I cheated on you, and that’s the result."

The words still echo in your head, not painful anymore. It was just a memory now, faded at the edges. Because you had made your mistakes, too. You had your own sins to answer for. But unlike him, you don’t feel guilty. At least, not anymore. Mrs. Kento freed you. As much as you had freed yourself. 

Maybe you should. Maybe you would have some shame. Maybe, in another life, you would have. But in this one, in this marriage that has been more war than love, you learned long ago that guilt was a luxury. It was for people who wanted to atone, people who wished things had gone differently.

You have no regrets now.

But Toji did. He always would.

You had forgiven him, after all.

Yet he knows you’ll never forget.

You see it now, in the way he glances at you between sips of his drink, like he’s waiting for something. Punishment? Forgiveness? You’re not sure. Maybe he’s not, either. But it’s too late to give one on your part. You were too exhausted with that game. And you were a fool. The best thing a woman like you could be. Well, at least that’s what you think.

"What?" you ask, tilting your head.

He exhales through his nose, a soft huff of laughter. "Nothing."

But it’s not nothing. You know him too well for that. "You look like you got something to say."

"I don’t."

"Liar."

He smirks at that, shaking his head. For a moment, the weight between you lifts, the bitterness dulling into something more tolerable. "Eighteen years, huh?" he says, leaning back in his chair. "Didn’t think we’d make it this far."

"Neither did I." You take a sip of your wine, letting it settle on your tongue before swallowing. "Yet here we are."

"Here we are." He clinks his glass against yours. "Still standing."

You arch a brow. "Barely."

He grins. "Still counts."

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. Because maybe Toji was right. Maybe it did count.Maybe, despite all the years of hurt and betrayal and anger, despite everything you lost along the way, you both still tried. And maybe, just maybe — that was enough.

You kissed him, pouring all your pent-up emotions into it with that drunken spirit. Your lips moved against his with a desperate urgency, as if you were trying to make up for all the years you'd wasted apart. Toji’s hands were everywhere, roaming your body with a possessive hunger. He gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss. 

You gasped for breath, consumed by him, by the feel of his lips, his hands, his body pressed against yours. In that moment, nothing else mattered. The past, the future, the world outside —  it all faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other's arms.

Toji's massive hands gripped your hips painfully, his fingers digging into your flesh as he yanked you against him. His kiss was brutal, punishing, as if he were trying to devour you whole. They always were.

You gasped, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs. Toji's tongue invaded your mouth, dominating, claiming, leaving no room for protest. His hands roamed your body possessively, squeezing and groping as if he owned every inch of you.

"We belong to each other, don’t we?" He growled against your lips, his voice laced with a toxic mix of bitterness and affection and desire."You've always been mine, and I'm never letting you go again."

Toji ripped your shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. He tore at your bra, freeing your breasts, and palmed them roughly. His touch was painful, bordering on cruel, but your body betrayed you, nipples hardening under his calloused hands.

Toji's mouth descended on your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin as he marked you. He sucked hard, intent on leaving a bruise, a visible claim of ownership. His hands slid down your body, popping the button on your skirt and yanking down the zipper. 

Toji hooked his fingers into the waistband, tugging both your skirt and underwear down in one brutal motion. He spun you around, bending you over the nearest surface, not caring what it was.

Toji kicked your legs apart, his hand coming down hard on your bare ass. The sharp sting made you cry out, but he ignored it, his fingers digging into your hips as he positioned himself behind you.

"Toji….please." you gasped, your voice a mix of pain and plea. 

But your husband wasn't listening. He was lost in his own twisted desire, driven by all these years that had come about this marriage. He was always like this when it comes to that.

You don’t blame him. You both were the worst people you knew. And he was desperate most of the time to pretend that the innocence of your love before this was still there.   

He drowned in you as he let his hips snapped forward, his cock plunging into you with a force that stole your breath. He set a punishing pace, each thrust designed to hurt, to claim, to dominate. Toji's hand came down on your ass again, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. Tears streamed down your face, a mix of pain and unwanted pleasure coursing through your veins.

"You're mine, babe." Toji growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Say it. Say you're mine." His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back as he continued his brutal assault.

"I'm yours, I’m yours….." you whispered, your voice breaking. 

It was the only thing you could say, the only thing that would stop the pain. Toji's grip on your hair tightened, his hips slamming into you with renewed vigor. You mewled as he dug deeper with each and every move.

"Louder, babe." he demanded, his voice a snarl. "I want the whole fucking world to hear you."

You took a shuddering breath, forcing the words out. "I'm yours, Toji. I'm yours!"

The admission seemed to snap something inside him. Toji's movements became erratic, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he chased his release. He came with a roar, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his seed.

But even as he emptied himself into you,  Fushiguro Toji didn't stop. He continued to thrust, his movements slower now but no less intense, as if he were trying to brand you with his touch, to imprint himself onto your very soul.

"Never forget it." Toji groaned brutishly, his breath hot against your ear. "You belong to me. Only me….I belong to you the same way. You know that, don’t you? You always have. You always will. This was just a reminder." 

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and something darker, something you refused to acknowledge. Toji's hand slid around your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck possessively.

"I'll never let you go." Toji whispered, his voice a sinister promise. "I'll kill anyone who tries to take you away from me."

“Toji, fuck fuck…huh…ah—”

“You could fuck whoever you want, babe.” He says, choking in his pleasure. “But, fuck—only I have you. Only I do. You know that.”

“I….you’re—too good! Toji, deeper! Fuckkkkkk…….”

His grip tightened slightly, just enough to make you gasp for air. You could feel your husband's other hand snaked around your bruising hip, his long  fingers finding your clit and rubbing in rough, demanding circles.

"Come for me." he commanded, his voice low and dangerous."Come on my cock like the good little slut you are." His words, his touch, the lack of oxygen. It all combined to push you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as pleasure mixed with pain. Fushiguro Toji's fingers dug into your throat, his touch bordering on violent as he rode out your climax. He thrust into you erratically, brutishly, barbarically, feeling his own release building again.

"Fuck, yes, yes…..fucking fuckkkkkkk….." he growled, his hips slamming into yours with a bruising force. "Take it all. Baby, fuck, you feel so good. Take it. Every last drop."

Toji's body tensed, his cock pulsing inside you as he came a second time. He collapsed on top of you, sweat blending as his weight crushed you into the surface beneath you. You gasped for air, your lungs burning horribly, your body aching. Toji's hand slid from your throat, his fingers trailing down your chest possessively.

"Mine, mine…." he murmured, his voice slurred with satisfaction. "You're all mine."

Toji stayed buried inside you, his softening cock a constant reminder of what had just happened. He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so that you were spooned against his chest.  His strong weary wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly against him.

You lay there, stunned and shaken, your mind reeling from the intensity of the encounter. Toji's breath was hot against your neck, his heartbeat steady and strong in your ear. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his lips surprisingly gentle.

Toji chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "Happy anniversary, my dear wife.” he said, his fingers trailing down your arm in a parody of affection. "Another year of blissful married life."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Blissful? Is that what you call it? Or what the trends call it?" you retorted, poking him in the chest. "I seem to remember spending half the year sleeping on the couch."

Toji caught your hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss that was more teeth than tenderness. "Ah, but think of all the fun we had when I finally dragged you back to bed, babe." he smirked. "You know you can't resist me for long."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Arrogant bastard." 

You mutter those words and yet there was no heat behind the words. This was a dance you both knew well, a twisted game of push and pull that defined your marriage. You had been through this too many times before. 

Toji's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, I'm not just a bastard, I'm your bastard, aren’t I?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And you love me for it."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Or maybe you just love the way I fuck you when you're being a brat."

You gasped, your cheeks flushing at his crude words.But before you could retort, Fushiguro Toji's mouth was on yours, kissing you deeply, possessively. He bit your lip, hard enough to sting, before pulling back.

"Now, how about we celebrate our anniversary properly?" he suggested, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass. "I'll even let you top this time, if you're feeling generous."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't suppress the smirk tugging at your lips. "In your dreams, Fushiguro Toji." you said, pushing him away playfully. "I'm not that easy."

Toji laughed, the sound rich and warm. Your husband grabbed you around the waist, pulling you back against his chest. You started to laugh with him, shaking your head. You were sure that it was the mix of the wine, the pleasure and the ambiance that had put you into such a good mood. 

"Oh, you're easy, babe." he teased, nipping at your neck. "You're just playing hard to get."

You giggled, squirming in his arms. "Prove it to me. Right now." you challenged, your eyes sparkling with mirth. 

Toji groaned, his hands roaming your body. "Fine, I'll prove it. But first, I need more wine." 

You slyly smiled. “That’s more like it. Go on and get it.”

He released you, heading towards the kitchen. "Red or white?" he called over his shoulder. "And don't you dare say 'surprise me', or I'll choose the cheapest bottle we have."

You laughed, settling back onto the couch. "Red." you shouted back. "And make it a good one, or I'll make you sleep on the couch tonight."

“So demanding you are.”

“Hm, that’s what you still need to learn after eighteen years.”

“We’ve been together longer than that.”

You laughed. “That’s why we’re fools, aren’t we?”

“Hm.” He mumbles as he leans in, kissing you as he holds the wine in his hands. “True enough.”

YOU AND TOJI TAKE LONGER BREAKS NOW. And that was perhaps for the best now that the kids are getting older. You’ve decided this a long time ago, but it was only now that it was a reality. With Toji and you being under your own management, there was more ability to say no to projects more often. 

Now that you and Toji are finally able to be a little less busy, you find yourselves grasping at the time that once slipped so easily through your fingers. It’s a strange thing, this newfound stillness. 

After years of living out of suitcases, jumping from set to set, and calling home through glitchy video calls, the quiet should be a relief. But in truth, it’s unsettling. Because now, without the distraction of work, you’re forced to face the spaces you left behind.

You try as much as you can. You really put everything in trying and succeeding to spend more time with your kids, to be present in ways you couldn’t be before. But parenting, when you’ve spent so long being absent, is a careful balance of patience and guilt. 

You’re stepping into lives that have learned how to function without you, and no matter how much they love you, no matter how many dinners you cook or movie nights you organize, there’s no undoing the years of distance.

Seventeen year old Fushiguro Tsumiki is about to take her entrance exams for college, a milestone that you can hardly believe is already here. You remember the day she first came into your life, all wide eyes and soft smiles, and now she’s filling out applications, weighing her options, making plans for a future that doesn’t depend on you or Toji.

Tsumiki sat at the kitchen table, hunched over her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she typed out her application essay. The soft glow of the screen illuminated her face, highlighting the furrow in her brow, the quiet determination in her eyes.

Toji leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her with an unreadable expression. You could tell he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to say it without making it sound like an argument.

"Are you sure about this school?" he finally asked, his voice casual, though you knew better. "Could be a bit too far from us, don’t you think?"

Tsumiki barely spared him a glance, too focused on the words forming on her screen. "Yeah, I’m going to be fine at this school, dad."

There was a slight exasperation in her tone, but it wasn’t angry. Instead, it was that was her tender firmness, like she had already decided, like this was something she had put real thought into. At times, you like to think she got that from Toji.

"It’s got the best program for what I want to do."

Toji scratched his jaw, pretending like he didn’t already know the answer to the question he was about to ask. "And what’s that again?"

Tsumiki rolled her eyes, a soft huff escaping her lips as she finally looked up at him. "I’ve told you a hundred times, dad."

Toji shrugged, pushing off the counter. "Yeah, well, tell me again."

You expected her to be annoyed, to say something sharp about how he never listened, about how he always asked the same things but never really heard her. But instead, she sighed and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It’s got the best program for child psychology, Kyoto University." she said, her voice softer now. "It’s one of the top schools for it. The research they do there, the opportunities… it’s what I need if I want to do this seriously."

“Okay, I see.”

She paused, studying her father, then added. "And it’s not like I’m moving across the world. It’s a few hours away."

Fushiguro Toji took a moment and exhaled slowly, leaning against the chair across from her, running a hand down his face. He nodded, though he didn’t say anything right away. It wasn’t about the school. Not really.

It was about her—about how she was growing up, about how she wasn’t a little girl anymore. About how, one day soon, she would leave, and there wouldn’t be application essays sprawled across the kitchen table or late-night snacks stolen from the fridge when she thought no one was looking.

And maybe Fushiguro Tsumiki understood that.

Because instead of snapping at him for forgetting, for questioning her choices, she met him where he was, speaking to him with patience and grace. As if she could see past his words, straight into the unspoken fear buried beneath them. Because at the end of the day, her dad was just concerned for her and wanted her around.

As if she knew he wasn’t really asking about the school.

He was asking if she was really ready to go.

And she was, she was a grown young woman ready to go.

You just sat there, listening to them, watching the way Toji asked questions he already knew the answers to, the way Tsumiki answered with more patience than he probably deserved. It was such a small thing, a simple conversation between a father and his daughter, but it lodged itself deep in your chest, heavy with a kind of warmth you hadn’t felt in years.

For all your shortcomings, for all the missed birthdays, the forgotten recitals, the times you had been nothing more than voices through a speaker or fleeting figures in the doorway—Tsumiki still let you in.

She still sat at this table with you. She still spoke to you both with openness, as if she had never once resented the distance, as if she had never longed for different parents, ones who had always been there. She could have turned away. She could have built walls so high neither of you could have reached her.

But instead, she waited to open that letter in front of you. Instead, she still explained her dreams, still let you be part of them, even after all the years you had spent missing pieces of her life. And that was what broke you the most.

Not the guilt, not the regret—but the grace.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat, gripping the edge of your seat as if grounding yourself would somehow make this moment last longer. It wasn’t often that the past allowed itself to be forgiven, and yet, here was Tsumiki, still offering it to you freely, without expectation, without resentment.

Toji exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face, the weight of it all pressing down on him in real time. "Well, guess that means I better start looking at housing prices out there."

Tsumiki blinked, caught between amusement and exasperation. "Dad—"

"What?" he shot back, crossing his arms. "You think I’m gonna let you live in some shitty dorm with mold in the walls? Not a chance."

"Dorms aren’t that bad—"

"Have you seen those places? I’d rather pay for you to live somewhere that won’t give you some disease." Toji says to her, shaking his head. “What daughter of mine will live in some shithole? Your mother and I make more than enough to get you some good apartment, you know that.”

You shook your head, pressing your lips together to hide the smile threatening to form. "Toji, let her breathe. She hasn’t even left yet, and you’re already planning to follow her."

He scoffed. "Damn right I am. What kind of dad would I be if I didn’t at least check out the area? Make sure she’s not living next to some creep?"

Tsumiki groaned, dropping her face into her hands, but you caught the small smile tugging at her lips before she did. "Oh my god, you two are impossible."

"You love us, admit it, sweetie." Toji said easily, smirking.

And she didn’t argue. She just shook her head, laughing softly, before turning her attention back to her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard once more with the eager zealousness she had always had.

You sat back, watching them bicker, watching the way the warmth filled the space between you all, and something inside you settled. Because after everything, after the misgivings, the years spent apart, the quiet fractures that once seemed irreparable. 

She was still here. She still let you be her parents And maybe you hadn’t always been good at it. Maybe you had spent too many years failing, too many years missing the moments that mattered. But somehow, she still lets you try.

Then there’s your son Megumi. Your youngest, but never really your baby. He has always been too sharp, too self-sufficient, always moving through life like he already knows how it ends. And you didn’t know how you could have been a better mother than he already was to himself.

Fushiguro Megumi never hated acting. That much you knew. If anything, he was good at it. He was just that talent that comes once in a lifetime. He was so good, in fact, that it was almost frustrating. 

Some people spent their whole lives fighting for a place in the industry, scraping for every opportunity, but for Megumi, it came easy. Natural. Directors liked him, critics praised him, and his face had become familiar in the industry, even if he never really tried to be.

But you saw it. In the way his shoulders tensed at red carpet events, the way his polite smiles never quite reached his eyes. In the way he flipped through scripts like they were another chore on his to-do list rather than a dream waiting to be realized.

"There’s too much damn dialogue in this thing." he muttered one night, stretching across the couch, script in one hand, a book in the other. “I’m not like Yuuji who can do this all the time!”

You looked up from your own book, raising a brow. "Too much dialogue? That’s the whole point, Megumi. It’s called acting."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, flipping a page lazily before tossing the script onto the coffee table with a sigh. "It’s just… too much talking. Too much over-explaining. Sometimes a look is enough, you know? A pause. A beat. You don’t need a five-minute monologue about life and its fleeting purpose to get that across."

You smirked. "Try telling that to the writers."

"Believe me, I have." he deadpanned, tilting his head toward you. "They don’t listen."

You hummed, watching him. The way his fingers skimmed the worn spine of his book, the way he traced over the inked words as if they carried more weight than any script ever could.

"Why don’t you quit, then?" you asked after a beat, catching him off guard. “I’m sure whatever you do, me and your dad will support you.”

Megumi blinked at you, his lips parting slightly before pressing into something unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might actually consider it, might admit something he hadn’t before. But instead, his mouth curled into a small, knowing smirk.

"I don’t hate it," he said simply, shrugging as he leaned back against the couch.

"No?" you challenged, tilting your head.

"No." He looked down at his book, flipping a page with deliberate ease. "I just like something else more."

You nodded, letting his words settle between you. "Literature?" you guessed.

He exhaled, glancing at you briefly before returning to his book. "Stories."

Something about the way he said it, quiet but certain, stuck with you. You and Toji had spent your whole lives chasing the next big role, the next big paycheck, the next big thing. You had built your careers on the idea that passion and success were the same, that you could never have one without the other. 

But Megumi, he just knew exactly where his love lay. And more importantly, he wasn’t afraid to say it. You watched him for a while, the way his gaze lingered on the words before him, how relaxed he looked in that moment, lost in a world of his own choosing.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt something settle inside you. Maybe he wouldn’t chase the same dreams you did. Maybe he wouldn’t take every job, every opportunity, every chance to stay relevant in an industry that never let anyone rest. 

"We should have dinner together, shouldn’t we?" you said, glancing between Megumi and Toji, who were both still lounging in the living room. "It’s been a while since we actually sat down as a family, and I don’t mean takeout at the kitchen counter."

Toji stretched, cracking his neck as he glanced over at you. "Yeah, that’s a good idea. We can go somewhere nice. Anywhere you guys want."

Megumi just grunted in response, still nose-deep in his book, which you took as his usual version of agreement. “I guess.”

But then Tsumiki, who had been sitting at the dining table with her laptop open, perked up slightly. "Can Kenshin come?"

You paused, your brows furrowing. "Nanami Kenshin?"

She nodded, twirling her pen between her fingers. "Yeah. He’s been kind of… going through it."

You exchanged a glance with Toji before settling your gaze back on her. "What’s wrong?"

Tsumiki sighed, closing her laptop and leaning forward on her elbows. "You know about his dad, right? The cheating rumors?"

You exhaled sharply, feeling the air punctured from your lungs. "Yeah. It’s been everywhere."

Nanami Kento’s scandal had taken over the news cycle for weeks. The once-stoic, well-respected actor had been photographed leaving a hotel with someone who was not his wife, and from there, the speculation spiraled. 

Every single day, there were headlines, opinion pieces, talk shows dissecting his every move, paparazzi following not just him, but his family. Kenshin, being his only son, was getting dragged into it whether he wanted to or not.

In some ways, you were lucky that you never got caught. But it was just that he was good at hiding his tracks more when you both worked together. And you worked together more than twice in two years.

Yet it had to end, once you gave birth to Tsumiki. And then when you were pregnant with Megumi. It wasn’t fair to your children. It never was and it never will. That’s why you broke it off. 

"He’s not handling it well." Tsumiki admitted, biting the inside of her cheek. "You know how private he is. And now he can’t even go outside without a camera in his face. He barely eats, barely sleeps. He’s just… stressed, and I figured maybe having dinner with us would help."

You sighed, rubbing your temple. You’d known Kenshin since he was a kid—he and Tsumiki had been close for years, practically growing up together. He had always been serious, quiet like his father, preferring to stay out of the limelight even though his last name made that impossible.

"Of course he can come." you said finally, softening. "We’ll make sure he eats something."

Tsumiki smiled, relieved, as she reached for her phone.

Toji, who had been silent this whole time, finally huffed. "Tch. If that dumbass father of his had half a brain, he’d have kept his shit together."

You shot him a look. "Not the time, Toji."

He grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. You watched as Tsumiki typed out a message to Kenshin, and something in your chest ached. Because for all the ways you had failed as parents over the years, Tsumiki had grown into someone who noticed when others were hurting.

And that had to mean something.

As you looked at your husband, he knew.

This was a hurt your daughter should never know.

IT WAS EERIE THAT EVERYTHING WAS THIS PEACEFUL. After being in the limelight for so long, you were just used to being surrounded by many people. People who were watching you eat, have a glass of wine, and have a conversation. Tonight was a whole other thing.

The restaurant was quiet, a dimly lit private dining space meant to shield its patrons from the outside world. It was the kind of place you and Toji had grown accustomed to over the years, where deals were made, secrets were kept, and appearances were carefully crafted under the warm glow of candlelight.

But as you slid into your seat across from Nanami Kenshin, no amount of careful curation could settle the knot in your stomach. You had spent your whole life perfecting the art of deception. On screen, in interviews, even at home. You could lie with your face, with your voice, with the ease of someone who had done it for far too long.

But now, as you watched Kenshin unfold his napkin with quiet precision, his brows drawn together in that familiar, contemplative way, you felt something unravel inside you. Because he looked just like his father. Too much just like him.

It had been easier when they were children, when Kenshin and Tsumiki were nothing more than two kids bonding over burnt pastries and mismatched spices in their middle school culinary club. Back then, your fears had been different and rather miniscule, smaller than dust. 

You had only worried about whether Tsumiki would get along with the other students, or whether she would find a friend in the reserved, sharp-eyed boy who always seemed to prefer the background. Back then, Tsumiki didn’t look like Kento.

But as the years passed, something shifted. It was in the little things at first. It was the way her patience stretched longer, the way her silences began carrying weight, the way she observed before speaking, before acting.

Then it was in the eyes. His caramel eyes. And now, sitting across from Kenshin, you felt it again. That gnawing weight in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel your lips dry up. You immediately lift your wine glass up to your lips and drank swiftly.

"You okay?" Toji’s voice was low, his hand settling against your thigh under the table, a gentle squeeze meant to keep you tethered.

You forced a nod, fingers curling around the stem of your wine glass, though the drink did nothing to soothe you. Because it wasn’t about regret. It had never been about regret. You had made your choices long ago, and you had lived with them.

But guilt? Well, the guilt here was different. And it was something you promised you would never feel again. But you couldn’t help it. Not in front of him. You owe it to him to feel a little bit guilty, even if it was all years ago. You were complicit. You were just as guilty.

You continued to let your eyes linger. You could see it. Your own guilt. Guilt was staring at the dark circles under Kenshin’s eyes, at the way he barely touched his menu, exhaustion weighing him down in ways that had nothing to do with the long day he must have had.

Guilt was watching him flinch slightly when Toji made an offhand remark about the press. Guilt was knowing that he didn’t deserve any of this. Guilt was making him stay here with the woman that his father slept with.

And yet, he bore the brunt of it all—the whispers, the cameras, the endless speculation. The price of being born into a home that no longer felt like one. The home you helped ruin. And he would never even know.

Tsumiki was the one to break the silence.

"You should eat, Kenshin." Her voice was soft but firm, the kind of tone she only ever used when she was worried.

Kenshin barely looked up from the menu, his fingers resting against the edges of the pages, but he hadn’t turned them once. "I’m not really that hungry."

You watched as Tsumiki frowned, her brows knitting together in quiet concern.

"You still need to eat, you idiot." she pressed, nudging his foot under the table. "I didn’t invite you just so you could sit here and mope, you know."

Kenshin exhaled sharply through his nose, something close to amusement flickering across his face, but it was faint. He closed the menu and leaned back against his chair, tilting his head slightly in her direction. "You invited me?"

"Of course I did." she said easily, like it wasn’t even a question. “Didn’t you answer me on the phone earlier? At least act interested! My parents are paying!”

Kenshin didn’t respond right away. He stared at her for a long moment, eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place—hesitation, gratitude, maybe even exhaustion. And then, slowly, he picked up the menu again, actually looking at it this time.

"Fine. But you’re ordering for me."

Tsumiki smiled, triumphant. "Obviously."

Toji, who had been silent this whole time, huffed a small chuckle before glancing at you. "They remind you of anyone?"

You knew what he was implying. You and him, all those years ago. It was before the fights, before the resentment, before the weight of your mistakes began pressing into every crack of your marriage. But you couldn’t even force a smile. Not with Kenshin sitting there, unknowingly reminding you of everything you had spent years trying to forget.

"So, Kenshin–senpai." Megumi spoke up, finally tearing himself away from his book. He turned to Kenshin, arching a brow. "How’s your mom doing?"

The question was casual enough, but you stiffened, your fingers tightening around your wine glass. Kenshin sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "She’s… dealing with it. I don’t know. It’s been rough." He let out a short, humorless laugh. "She’s handling it better than I am, though."

You swallowed. Because how could he not be struggling? How could he not be going through it? His whole life had been dragged into the spotlight, his father’s name turned into nothing more than a headline, a scandal, a spectacle.

“Your sister must be just as distraught too.” Tsumiki murmured under her breath, looking with empathy at her best friend. “I hope she’s alright.”

“She’s in Kyoto right now, that’s where she’s prepping for her licensing exams.” Kenshin sighed. “Honestly, I know it’s best for her. But I worry about her. I know that she gets really bad when she’s upset.”

You forced yourself to speak, voice even. "If she ever needs anything, let her know she can call me. I’m sure we can do something for your sister too.”

Kenshin nodded, but his gaze remained unreadable. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Fushiguro. I appreciate it. Really.”

Toji watched you closely, his fingers tapping against his glass, but he said nothing. And as the conversation moved forward, shifting into lighter topics. Now onto university plans, upcoming projects, the best dish on the menu. In that time, you forced yourself to push the guilt down.

Because Kenshin still didn’t know.

And you told yourself that was all that mattered.

That was for his own good.

At least that's what you believed.

TOJI THINKS HE SHOULD WIN AN AWARD FOR HIS ACTING LATELY. Of course, he wasn’t talking about his jobs. He’s not filmed anything in the past year and a half. But there was something else that could give him some sort of award winning accolade. And it’s because Fushiguro Toji had been hiding something for a little while now.

Lymphoma.

It was strange, how the word hadn’t shaken him the way it probably should have. The doctor had said it gently, cautiously, like he was waiting for the weight of it to sink in. But Toji had simply sat there, one leg bouncing impatiently, as if he were waiting for something more pressing to be said.

"It’s treatable." the doctor had assured him, voice steady, professional. "But we need to start soon."

And maybe that was why it hadn’t rattled him. Maybe it was the way the doctor had framed it. It was like a problem with a solution, a challenge to be dealt with rather than a death sentence. Or maybe it was because Fushiguro Toji had lived his whole life expecting something to take him out eventually. But not today. Not yet.

"You have any questions?" the doctor had asked.

Toji had thought about it, had considered asking what the worst-case scenario looked like, and had considered asking how much time he had if treatment didn’t work. But in the end, all he had done was shake his head and stand up.

"Alright. I’ll be in touch."

And that was that.

So far, no one has noticed.

Which was a good thing.

He didn’t want anyone to be concerned.

Not his wife, who had enough to think about. It was a lot of balancing work, their marriage, their kids, all while carrying the kind of history that still bled into their present. If you knew, you would surely drop everything. You’d hover him like he was a pitiful creature. She’d watch him like he was a ticking bomb, and Toji didn’t have it in him to be the reason for that kind of worry.

Not Tsumiki, who had spent her whole damn life caring for people, who had already learned to read between the lines too well. If she knew, she’d put herself on hold. Toji had spent too many years trying to teach her not to do that, to live for herself, to stop putting the world on her shoulders.

And definitely not Megumi. Not his quiet, unreadable, sharp-eyed kid who already carried more weight than he should, who had learned too young what disappointment felt like, what distance felt like, what it meant to survive rather than simply live.

No. If Megumi knew, he’d take it on himself, the same way he always did.  And Toji couldn’t let that happen, not when his kids are doing something for themselves for once. Not when they were at the prime of their lives.

So, he hid it. 

Not when the fatigue settled in his bones, making every movement feel like dragging himself through sand.

Not when the weight slipped from him, slow but steady, his clothes fitting just a little looser, his rings spinning just a little too easily on his fingers.

Not even when the pain dug into his chest late at night, deep and relentless, the kind that kept him awake even on the nights when he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open.

Because what good would telling them do?

What good would putting that burden on them accomplish?

So, he forced himself to keep up. Forced himself to eat, even when the nausea made it difficult. Forced himself to be present, even when his body begged him to rest. Forced himself to be himself at least until he couldn’t anymore. And for now, at least, he was doing a damn good job of it.

But the thing about hiding something this big was that Toji had to be careful. It wasn’t enough to just act normal. He had to be convincing. Like he usually was. He had to keep up routines, make sure there were no suspicious gaps in his behavior.

He couldn’t afford to look tired, couldn’t hesitate when lifting the groceries or shut his eyes too long when rubbing at the ache in his chest. So far, he’d managed. Tsumiki and Megumi hadn’t noticed a thing. And you—his wife—hadn’t either. Or at least, if you had, you hadn’t said anything.

But Toji knew it was only a matter of time. Because the thing about secrets was that they always crept up, slipping through the cracks when you least expected them to. And for all his effort, for all the control he tried to maintain over his body, his body had a way of betraying him.

The first real crack came on a random Tuesday.

He had just stepped out of the shower when you entered the bedroom, flipping through something on your phone, mumbling about dinner plans. His towel hung around his shoulders, water still dripping from his hair, steam clinging to his skin.

You hadn’t been paying much attention at first, distracted, focused on something else entirely. And then you froze. Your husband Toji didn’t understand why at first—then he followed your gaze.

To his ribs.To the way his skin clung too closely to his bones, to the ghastly and rather sharp hollows that hadn’t been there before, to the proof of what he had been keeping from you all this time.

He saw the way your lips parted, how something flickered in your eyes. It was that realization he knew he never wanted to see in your face in any life time. You purse your lips into a line and then a little later, let it slip open.

"Toji." You said his name like a question. Like you were trying to confirm something you already knew.

He exhaled, reaching for his shirt, acting like it was nothing. "Yeah?"

"Have you… been eating?"

A scoff. A forced chuckle. "What kind of question is that? I eat everything that you give me, babe. I’m fine."

"You’ve lost weight."

"I’m busy with the entertainment company. And I produce too, you know. Maybe it’s that. Don't worry too much." He pulled the shirt over his head, voice easy, practiced. "It’s not like I have a home-cooked meal waiting for me every day."

You didn’t respond right away. And that was worse. Because Fushiguro Toji knew you. Knew how your mind worked, how you saw through bullshit faster than anyone else. You did not believe him one second.

You stepped closer, fingertips ghosting over his ribs through the fabric, and he had to fight the urge to step back. Your eyes were sharp, scanning him, searching for something. "You’ve been tired too, aren’t you? That’s why we took a break, didn’t we?"

"I’m getting older, too. Don’t forget that side effect."

"And you’ve been—"

"Drop it." His voice came out rougher than he meant it to. “Babe, seriously. I’m fine. Look…I’m sorry.”

Your lips pressed together, and for a split second, Toji thought he saw something flicker there. Hurt. He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose before dragging a hand down his face. He forced his voice softer. 

"I’m serious about it. I’m fine. Just been working too much."

A long pause.

Then you nodded.

He saw your eyes.

But your eyes told him you weren’t convinced. And Toji didn’t like that look.  Because it meant you were starting to notice. And if you noticed, it was only a matter of time before the kids did too.

So, he needed to do better. He needed to get it together. He needed to be more careful. Needed to keep it hidden just a little longer. This was his problem. He had to solve it his way. Because he wasn’t ready for you or the kids to know. Not yet.

A LOT HAS HAPPENED OVER THE PAST FEW MONTHS. It was a few months later when Fushiguro Tsumiki got accepted into Kyoto University. And everything about it has been a splendid triumph for the Fushiguro family for quite a while. Most especially from you and Toji.

The house had been buzzing with excitement, with you crying happy tears while Megumi offered his usual quiet but sincere congratulations. Even Toji, who had never been the most expressive, had pulled her into a side hug, murmuring a gruff “Knew you’d get in.”

And now, here you were—moving her into her dorm.

Toji had insisted on helping, despite you knowing that he got tired more easily these days. He played it off well, cracking jokes about how dorm mattresses were probably just wooden planks covered in fabric and how campus food was going to be the worst thing she’d ever eat. 

But you saw it very clearly. You were watching your husband all through the steps with eyes like a hawk. You could see the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot, the way he rolled his shoulders like he was working through some ache he wasn’t talking about.

But you said nothing. Not yet.

You didn’t want to push him.

You didn’t want to make him upset.

Not today of all days, when he’s happy.

The drive there had been mostly filled with Tsumiki’s excited chatter. She kept talking about how she had already connected with her dorm mate online, how she planned to join a few clubs, how she wanted to explore the city more now that she’d be living in it.

By the time you reached the dorm, the sun was high, and the campus buzzed with students moving in, parents saying tearful goodbyes. Toji carried most of her heavier boxes despite your protests, only shooting you a look when you tried to take one from him.

Inside her dorm, it felt real. She was really going to be here. She was really moving on to this next part of her life. She’s no longer a little girl. She’s a growing young woman and there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

All the sudden you felt choked up. “I’m going to get us some beverages.”

Your husband nods at you, watching you leave the room with your forlorn look. He knew you were overwhelmed. He sighed. He moved towards the edge of the room. After setting down the last box, Toji stretched, exhaling deeply. Then he glanced around the small space, nodding as if approving it. 

“Not bad. Still think you could’ve picked something closer, though.”

Tsumiki turned from where she was unpacking her books, rolling her eyes. “Dad, it’s not even that far. It’s just Kyoto. The Shinkansen can take me home in a couple of hours.”

"Far enough." He folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall. "Before, if you needed anything, we were just down the hall. Now, what? Gotta call ahead and book an appointment just to see you?"

Tsumiki sighed, but there was a fondness in her expression. “You know it’s not like that.”

Toji shrugged, looking around the room before settling his gaze back on her. "You're growing up too fast. Soon, you won’t need me or your mom anymore."

Tsumiki’s hands stilled as she placed a book on her desk. Then she turned fully, brows furrowing. “That’s not true.”

"Isn’t it?" Toji smirked, but there was something else underneath it. Something unreadable. "What do you need me for anymore, huh? I don’t gotta drive you anywhere, don’t gotta pick you up from school, don’t gotta make sure your dumbass classmates aren’t getting too close to you—"

“Dad—”

"What? You think I don’t know you’re too nice to tell some loser to back off? Don’t make me show up on campus, ‘miki."

Tsumiki groaned, shoving him lightly, and Toji let himself stumble back a little, laughing. “Dad, you’re being silly again.”

Then, after a moment, his expression softened, and his voice dropped just a bit. "You’ll still be my little girl, though?"

Tsumiki tilted her head, smiling. “Yes.”

Toji let out a breath, then grinned. "Good. ‘Cause I wasn’t gonna accept any other answer."

And for a moment, it was just the two of them. They were still father and daughter, standing in the middle of a dorm that felt too empty, too new. Tsumiki looked at him like she had always looked at him. There was warmth, with trust, with the kind of affection that Toji never thought he deserved.

And for just a second, he forgot about everything else. The fatigue. The pain. The weight of a secret that felt heavier than any of the boxes he had carried up those stairs. Because right now, his little girl was starting the next chapter of her life. And he would do whatever it took to be there for as long as he could.

As the afternoon light filtered through the dorm window, Fushiguro Toji sat on the edge of Tsumiki’s bed, watching her arrange the last of her things. For a moment, he just observed. He couldn’t help but take in how grown she looked, how far she had come. 

It was strange how time worked. One day, she was just a kid clinging to his arm, asking him to carry her on his shoulders. Now, she was standing on her own, stepping into a new life, one he wouldn’t be a daily part of anymore. His chest ached, but he ignored it.

Instead, he leaned back on his hands, voice light when he spoke. “So. What do you think of your mom?”

Tsumiki blinked, caught off guard. “What kind of question is that?”

Toji shrugged. “Just wondering.”

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed, turning back to her desk, fidgeting with the edge of a notebook. “I love her.” she said, voice softer. “Of course, I do. She’s my mom.”

Toji hummed. “But?”

Tsumiki hesitated. Then, finally, she admitted. “I feel like there’s always been some kind of distance between us.”

Toji watched as she ran a hand over the cover of a textbook, not meeting his gaze. “I know she loves me a lot, I do. She’s taken care of me, she’s been there—but it’s just… it’s not the same as with you.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Oh?”

Tsumiki turned to him, looking guilty, as if saying it out loud made her feel like a bad daughter. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just—” She sighed. “With you, it’s easy. It always has been. I don’t have to think about what to say, or wonder if I’m bothering you. I just… talk. And you listen. And you tease me.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “It’s just different with Mom. It always has been. And I think she knows it too.”

Toji exhaled through his nose, tilting his head. “And Megumi?”

Tsumiki let out a small chuckle. “They have an easier relationship. They understand each other better.” She shrugged. “Maybe because he’s more like her. Or maybe it’s because he’s actually hers.”

Toji frowned at that. “You really don’t think that, do you?”

“Dad, it’s just….” She looked crestfallen, but she smiled. “It’s just complicated.”

"Tsumiki." His voice was firm, but not harsh. She looked at him, and he reached out, tapping her forehead lightly with his fingers. “You’re her daughter. That’s all that matters.”

She gave a small nod but didn’t say anything.

For a while, silence stretched between them.

Toji could remember how he was with his mother too.

Blood or not, Tsumiki was more like him than he could bear.

Then, Toji smirked, leaning back again. “So? What are you gonna do about it?”

Tsumiki frowned. “What do you mean?”

"You want things to be different with her? Then go to her. Talk to her. You’re a big girl now, right? Not scared of your own mom, are ya?"

Tsumiki huffed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Toji chuckled, then shook his head, his voice turning a little more serious. “Look, your mom—she’s not always the best at showing things. But she does care. She’s still….dealing with a lot. But she cares. Probably more than she knows how to say. So, if you feel a distance, don’t just sit with it. Close it.”

Tsumiki bit her lip, thinking. Then, after a moment, she nodded. “Yeah… Yeah, okay.”

Toji grinned. “Good. Now, are you gonna make me sit here all day, or are you gonna feed your old man before he drives back home?”

Tsumiki laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

"Damn right I am."

And as they headed out for a meal together, Fushiguro Toji hoped—really hoped—that she would take his advice. Because no matter how messy this family was, no matter how much distance had crept in over the years, he knew one thing for sure.

You loved Tsumiki.

And she deserved to know it.

And he doesn’t want you to be alone.

YOU DIDN’T REALIZE HOW MUCH YOUR DAUGHTER ACTUALLY OWNED UNTIL NOW. The afternoon sun painted the dorm room in soft gold, dust particles catching the light as they floated lazily through the air.

The room smelled faintly of cardboard and new beginnings, the scent of fresh linens and wood polish mixing with the comfortable warmth of Tsumiki’s presence.

You and your husband Toji had been helping her unpack for the past hour, moving in a steady rhythm. You watched him carrying the heavier boxes to a storage room while you focused on putting her things away neatly. 

Tsumiki worked between the both of you, arranging her books, tucking away clothes, occasionally stopping to pull out something sentimental. It was her favorite childhood trinkets, an old photograph, a gift from Megumi she hadn’t had the heart to leave behind.

For the most part, the move-in had been filled with light chatter, your husband Toji’s occasional grumbling about “kids these days” and the ridiculous amount of stuff she had brought. You could only laugh and shake your heat at his little banters.  

But then, as you folded the last of her sweaters, Tsumiki spoke. "Mom?"

You paused, fingers brushing over the soft fabric before looking at her. "Yeah?"

She hesitated, her hands fidgeting with the hem of a well-worn t-shirt. Something flickered across her face. It was something unsure, something fragile. “I….”

You smiled softly at her. “Darling, you can tell me anything. What’s on your mind?”

"I wanted to say something to you." She exhaled slowly. "And I don’t—I don’t want you to take it the wrong way, but I think I need to say it."

Beside you, Toji stilled, his gaze shifting from the shelf he was setting up to the both of you. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t intervene. Just let her speak. He turns his back, focusing deeply on the cleaning he was doing.

"I love you." Tsumiki’s voice was soft, but steady. "I love you so much. But I—sometimes, I feel like we don’t really know each other. Not in the way I know Dad. Or even in the way Megumi knows you."

Your chest tightened. “‘miki….”

"And I know you love me, too." She rushed to add. "I do. But there’s always been this… this distance. And I guess I just… I just wish I knew why."

The silence that followed was thick. Toji was watching you now, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his presence. He wasn’t going to step in. This was between you and Tsumiki. You exhaled, pressing your hands together before finally meeting her gaze.

"Tsumiki, none of that is your fault."

Her brows pulled together slightly, the smallest hint of hurt flashing in her eyes. "Then whose is it?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the words press against the back of your throat like something heavy, something unbearable. "Mine, darling." you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "All of it."

Tsumiki’s lips parted, but no words came out. You glanced at Toji, at the way he watched you—calm, waiting. He knew this conversation had been long overdue. You both talked about how it would work one day. But even now you felt unprepared and scared. Perhaps more than you thought you would ever be.

"I was scared." The confession fell from your lips before you could stop it. "From the very beginning, I was so scared of failing you. Of not being the mother you deserved. I thought that if I didn’t do everything perfectly, I would hurt you. So I tried to be everything all at once. A mother, an actress, a wife. But somewhere along the way, I started thinking that as long as I was there, as long as I provided for you, that was enough. And it wasn’t."

Tsumiki’s fingers curled around the hem of her shirt, gripping it tightly. “Mom….”

You reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “I was at fault. My suffering doesn’t mean I should have done wrong by you. I should have done better.”

“You did your best, mom.” Tsumiki softly shakes her head. “I love you. Thank you for letting me in, even if it’s just a little bit.”

"I love you more than anything in this world, Tsumiki." Your voice wavered, but you held her gaze. "More than I’ve ever been able to show you. And I am so, so sorry if I ever made you feel like that love was anything less than unconditional."

She sucked in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly. “Thank you, mom. For everything.”

You shake  your head. "You shouldn't be thanked for taking accountability. I need to do better by  you. I never wanted you to feel like you had to reach for me, sweetheart. You’ve always had me from now on, okay?”

For a long moment, she didn’t move. And then, without hesitation, she surged forward, wrapping her arms around you, pressing her face into your shoulder. It was like when she was a kid again, when she was coming to your bed when she was afraid of thunderstorms. You let her warmth engulf you whole. 

"I love you, mom." she whispered, voice muffled against your sweater.

Your arms tightened around her, pressing a firm kiss to her temple. "I love you too, baby."

Toji, still standing in the corner, let out a slow breath. You caught the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips before he turned away, busying himself with something on her desk, as if to give you both the space you needed.

And as you held your daughter in that small dorm room, feeling her warmth, her presence, you realized something. It was something you had been too scared to admit before. You had spent years afraid of being a mother the wrong way. But Tsumiki had never once doubted that you were her mother. And for the first time, that fear finally loosened its grip.

Toji had been watching the moment unfold quietly, leaning against the desk with his arms crossed. His usual smirk had softened into something more content, something more at peace.

"‘Bout time,” he murmured, shaking his head with a chuckle as he turned to grab one of the last unopened boxes. “Should’ve had this conversation years ago, huh?”

You shot him a look, wiping at the damp corner of your eye. “Shut up, Toji.”

Tsumiki giggled, the tension between you both easing into something warmer. She pulled away just enough to look at you, a lingering smile on her lips. “Thanks, mom.”

Toji scoffed but grinned as he ruffled Tsumiki’s hair. “Alright, enough sappy shit. Do you need us to put anything else together before we head out?”

Tsumiki rolled her eyes but smiled. “No, dad. Don’t worry about that. You did so much for me already. I think I got it from here.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh, stretching his arms. “Good. I was starting to think I’d be here all damn day.”

But then, something shifted. Fushiguro Toji swayed slightly where he stood, a slow blink overtaking his features. His hand shot out to the desk all of the sudden, gripping it like he needed to ground himself. 

"Toji?" You straightened immediately, the warmth from before evaporating into worry.

Tsumiki stepped closer, brows furrowing. “Dad?”

Toji tried to shake it off, forcing out a chuckle. “I—”

And then, before he could finish, his knees buckled. It happened too fast. Like a sudden blow of the wind, you watched as your husband went down, his large frame crumpling to the floor before you or Tsumiki could catch him. His head barely missed the corner of the desk as he slumped over, unconscious.

"Dad!" Tsumiki’s voice cracked, panic laced in her tone as she dropped down beside him.

Your own breath hitched, heart lurching to your throat as you knelt beside him, hands pressing against his face, his chest. "Toji—Toji, wake up!"

He didn’t. His breathing was shallow. Too shallow. The world felt like it had tilted, like the air in the room had been sucked out completely. Your hands shook as you patted his face, voice trembling. You could feel the tears pricking your eyes. 

“Toji, open your eyes. Please.”

Tsumiki’s hands were gripping his arm, her eyes wide and glassy. “Mom, what—what’s happening? Is he okay?”

"C–call… call the ambulance now, ‘Miki! Go!”

Your frantic voice came out sharper than you intended, edged with panic you couldn’t suppress. Tsumiki jumped but nodded quickly, her fingers fumbling to unlock her phone. Her breath was shaky as she pressed the emergency number, bringing the phone to her ear with trembling hands.

You turned your attention back to your husband Toji, hands pressing against his face, his chest, anywhere you could reach. His skin was clammy, damp with sweat, but he was still warm. That was good, right? That had to be good. It can only be good. Warm flesh means there’s life.

"Toji, wake up! You gotta wake up." Your voice wavered, but you didn’t stop, didn’t let yourself break.

His eyelids twitched, the barest movement, but he didn’t fully stir. His lips parted, a low, incoherent mumble slipping out. At first, you couldn’t make it out. It was just a string of fragmented words, barely above a whisper.

"Tsumiki?" Your stomach twisted. His voice was slurred, disoriented, almost childlike in the way it fumbled over the syllables. “....’miki….”

"I….I’m here, dad. Don’t worry." Tsumiki choked out, clutching his hand even as she kept the phone to her ear. "Just hang on, okay? The ambulance is coming."

But he didn’t respond. His strong brow furrowed, another murmured whisper tumbling from his lips. You leaned in closer, your pulse pounding so hard you thought your ribs might crack under the pressure of it all.

"—don’t...go yet— ‘m not—"

Your breath caught. His fingers twitched weakly against yours. "Toji?"

Still, he wouldn’t fully wake. His words became softer, less tangible, slipping through your grasp like sand. It wasn’t like him. Toji Fushiguro had always been loud, solid, and unwavering. Even in your worst fights, even in the coldest moments of your marriage, he had always been there.

But right now—right now, he was slipping. 

"Mom—" Tsumiki’s voice broke, and you turned to see her eyes shining with tears, her grip on her phone tight.

"They’re on their way, mom." she said, her voice trembling. "But they—they said it could take a few minutes."

A few minutes.

That was too long.

"Come on, baby, stay with me, please." you whispered, brushing his damp hair back, your voice barely above a plea. “Stay awake.”

His lips parted again, another breathy mumble escaping. This time, it was almost too soft for you to hear. But you knew you heard it. And your heart clenched so hard it physically hurt about how it made you feel.

"‘M sorry…"

You swallowed thickly, fingers tightening against his. "You don’t—You don’t get to say that, Toji. Not now."

But he didn’t respond.

And for the first time in years, the weight of unspoken words that came and went. All the years of love, of resentment, of mistakes and trying and failing and trying again seemed to settle so heavily in your chest, you felt like you might break under it.

You just needed him to hold on.

Just for a few more minutes.

You just needed a few more minutes.

All the sudden, you found yourself praying.

That was all you could do now, truly.

YOU’VE ALWAYS HATED HOSPITALS. They were so devoid of everything that makes life what it is. And you hated it. It’s why you always bring the doctor to you rather than going yourself.

You were too afraid, so disgusted by it. Disturbed by the essence of it being so terribly empty. But right now, you really had no choice. This was the only place you could bring Toji to safety.

The hospital was cold. Too cold. Even though the air-conditioning wasn’t particularly strong, the sterile white walls and the harsh fluorescent lighting made everything feel distant. Clinical. Like this was happening to someone else, in some other reality, and not you.

"Fushiguro Toji?" a doctor finally approached, her face too neutral, too practiced. "Are you his family?"

"Yes, I’m his wife." you answered immediately, your voice coming out steadier than you felt. Tsumiki nodded beside you, her hand still gripping yours tightly. “This is our daughter.”

The doctor sighed, glancing down at the clipboard in her hands. "We managed to stabilize him, but… there’s something we need to discuss."

You hated that pause. Hated the way doctors always did this. Even when you were doing things like this at work in all those massive sets and their dramatic music. Everything was about framing bad news like it needed cushioning, as if it would hurt less if they eased you into it. And to know that it's happening to you in real life, it made you feel so ill.

"What is it?" you asked, throat dry.

"Mr. Fushiguro’s condition is… progressing faster than we initially anticipated." she said carefully. "The lymphoma has advanced significantly, and—"

The rest of her words blurred as she continued to speak right in front of you. The state of shock perhaps will never go away. Everything felt like it was wrong, like it was eager to crash down on you a thousand times. Your breath caught in your throat. Tsumiki stiffened beside you, her fingers digging into your arm.

"What do you mean?" you finally managed, voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor sighed. "I mean that his body isn’t responding to treatment the way we had hoped. The disease is advancing aggressively, and at this stage…" She hesitated, choosing her words. "We need to have a serious discussion about long-term care options."

"Long-term care?" Tsumiki’s voice cracked. "You mean—like, hospice?"

The doctor didn’t answer right away, but her silence was an answer in itself. Tsumiki let out a shaky breath, her other hand covering her mouth as she turned away, shoulders trembling.

You felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you. Like you were standing in the middle of a collapsing building, bricks of reality crumbling all around you. And you hated it. You hated it more than anything. You didn't want this. Never in a lifetime did you want this.

"No, no." you said, shaking your head, as if denial could make this go away. "No, that—there has to be something else. There has to be more treatment, right?"

The doctor gave you a look. It was not unkind, but firm. It had to be, when she has to tell you something as heavy as this. This was her job. Perhaps that's why you weren't screaming in her face. She didn't deserve it. She was just doing what she could. They all were.

"We will do everything we can to make him comfortable."

Comfortable.

The word felt like a death sentence.

You think you were feeling sick.

"How long?" you forced yourself to ask, because if you didn’t, the question would eat you alive.

Another hesitation. "If the progression continues at this rate… months. Maybe less."

A sharp, strangled sound escaped from your daughter Tsumiki. You turned just in time to see her back hitting the wall as she slid down, arms wrapping around herself. She looked miserable, near to tears as she tried to process it all.

You wanted to move, to hold her, to tell her something that would make this better but there was nothing. Because nothing was going to make this better. You were just as much as devastated as your own daughter.

"There has to be something else." The words spilled out of you before you could stop them, sharp and desperate.

The doctor hesitated, her expression unreadable but not unkind. “We understand this is difficult, but—”

"No." You shook your head, taking a step forward as if that would somehow make a difference. "You’re talking like this is already over, doctor. But you know it’s not. There has to be something—anything. More treatment, another hospital, a specialist. We are willing to do everything. My husband can’t….He can’t…."

"Mom….." Tsumiki’s voice was small, raw, but you couldn’t stop now.

"He’s strong. People know that." you insisted, clinging to that fact because Toji had survived everything. He was stubborn, unrelenting. He wasn’t the kind of man who just gave up. "There has to be more options."

The doctor let out a slow breath, her hands tightening around the clipboard. “Mr. Fushiguro has already undergone chemotherapy, months ago. But the cancer is aggressive. We can discuss alternative treatments, Mrs. Fushiguro. However, given the stage of progression, I want to be honest with you—none of them come without risks.”

"I don’t care about the risks. If there’s something, anything, we’ll do it."

Tsumiki reached for your arm, her grip shaky. "Mom… what if—what if dad doesn’t want more treatment?"

Your stomach twisted, the words hitting deeper than they should have. Because it was possible, wasn’t it? Fushiguro Toji had made his peace with this. That he had chosen not to fight this battle any longer. Not because he didn’t care, but because he had already been fighting it alone for longer than you even knew.

You didn’t know what was worse: the idea of losing him or the thought that he had been expecting to leave. “I’m not letting him die on me. On us. Not yet. This is not....We have to try.”

The doctor studied you carefully before speaking again. “We can explore clinical trials. There are experimental treatments available. There are ones that have worked for some patients with similar diagnoses. I can help you attain some access. But it’s important to understand that there are no guarantees.”

"I don't need a guarantee. I just need a chance." You whispered to her. "I just need some chances for my husband's life."

She gave a small nod. “Then we’ll go over the options with him. He should be the one to decide how he wants to proceed.”

You sniffed. “That would be fine. Please make the arrangements as soon as necessary. I want my husband to come home safe and sound.”

"Would you like to see him?" the doctor asked softly. “I think he’s conscious enough to receive visitors.”

Your throat tightened.

Yes.

Of course.

But at the same time… you weren’t ready. You weren’t ready for what came next. And for the first time in a long time, you had no idea what the hell you were supposed to do. How are you going to do all of this?

The walls felt like they were closing in. Even as the doctor stood there, waiting for your response, the air around you felt suffocating. Everything about it just felt thick with the weight of something irreversible. Something that was never going to change.

"Would you like to see him?"

The words barely registered.

How could they ever do so?

Toji was here. He was still breathing. Still alive. But now, you were being told that it wouldn’t be for much longer. Months. Maybe less. A life measured in maybes. Your body felt heavy, the kind of weight that came from grief that hadn't even settled in yet, but you knew it was there, waiting, coiling itself in your ribs like a sickness.

Tsumiki made a sound. It was a sharp, choked sob before she clamped a hand over her mouth, as if she could swallow it down. But she couldn't. You both couldn't. "Mom…" she whispered, her voice breaking apart.

And suddenly, you were moving towards your little girl, your hands reaching for her, pulling her into your arms before she crumbled completely. She didn't resist. She just collapsed against you, shaking so hard it hurt to feel.

"He can't….He can’t just go, mom." she gasped against your shoulder, her fingers digging into your back. "He can't just leave. Not yet."

You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I know, baby. I know."

It wasn’t fair. None of it was. You should have known something was wrong. You should have seen it, should have paid closer attention instead of getting caught up in the relief of finally having more time together. 

You had spent so long chasing each other through the chaos of your lives, waiting for a moment to just be and now that moment had arrived, only for it to be stolen before it even truly began. After all you had been through, suffering through and this is the reward of that steadfast spirit?

"He knew."

The thought was sudden. Sharp. You pulled away just enough to look at Tsumiki’s face, her red-rimmed eyes full of the same realization. She looked ever so devastated as her eyes narrowed towards the room door.

"He knew about it and we didn’t, mom." she repeated, her voice steadier this time. "He’s known for a while, hasn’t he?"

And just like that, everything clicked into place. The fatigue that lingered in his eyes even on the good days. The way he had been more present, more patient, more aware of the moments he had with you and the kids. The way he had laughed a little softer, held on a little longer.

He had been preparing for this.

And he hadn’t said a damn thing.

He didn’t feel like doing that at all.

You felt a flash of something—anger, maybe. But it was weak, lost under the sheer force of heartbreak. "I need to see him." Your voice barely sounded like your own, but it was firm. "Now."

Tsumiki nodded, wiping at her face, trying to collect herself even as the tears kept coming. The doctor said something, something about leading the way, about making sure you had time with him but you barely heard it. You didn’t care.

Because all you could think about was how the man you had spent eighteen years fighting for, fighting with, had been fighting this alone. And you weren’t sure whether you could forgive him for that. But you knew, without a doubt, that you weren’t going to let him do it alone anymore.

The moment you stepped into the room, Fushiguro Toji looked up. His face was pale, his skin pulled taut with exhaustion, but his lips curled into something wry, something casual. It was like he wasn’t hooked up to an IV, like he wasn’t the one lying in a hospital bed with death looming over him.

"Well, shit. I must really look bad if you’re already crying."

That was it. That was all it took for something inside you to snap. "Don’t you dare." Your voice trembled, but it was loud, sharp. "Don’t you fucking dare sit there and joke about this!"

Toji blinked, taken aback for the first time. "Hey—"

"No! No ‘hey’!" The dam had broken, and you couldn’t stop it now. "You knew! You knew for how long, Toji? How long have you been keeping this from me? From us?"

His lips parted, but no excuse came. No reassurance.

"You—" you let out a shaky breath, your body trembling. "You let me believe everything was finally okay. As much as there's so much wrong we can't avoid, hat we were finally settled down. You let us believe that we had time…..that we finally had time to just be and now you're telling me you're dying? That we only have months?"

Tsumiki stood beside you, her hands clasped in front of her, lips pressed together like she was forcing herself to stay strong. "Mom, please…." she tried, but you were past the point of stopping.

"How could you do this to us? I haven’t even told Megumi and I just…." The words cracked as they left your mouth. "How could you do this to me? What do I do, Toji?"

Toji sighed, running a hand down his face. "I didn’t want this."

"You didn’t want this?" A bitter laugh bubbled up from your throat. "Like I did? Like Tsumiki did? Like Megumi did? Like we wouldn’t have wanted to be there for you?"

His fingers curled into the hospital blanket. “I’m sorry….”

"You should’ve told me, you idiot." you whispered, voice raw, broken. “You could have died for good. And I wouldn’t have known. And I just….”

"And then what?" His voice was quiet, careful.

"And then we would’ve fought for you."

Toji’s eyes flickered, something almost imperceptible passing through them before he looked away. That was when the tears truly came. You shook your head, wiping furiously at your face, but it didn’t stop the ache in your chest, the way your whole body felt like it was collapsing under the weight of grief that hadn’t even fully arrived yet.

"You were going to let me find out like this? How could you?”

Toji exhaled, a long, slow breath. "I just… I didn’t want this to be what our life became. I didn’t want to see you look at me like you’re looking at me now."

You let out a sharp breath, stepping forward, reaching for his hand despite everything. His fingers twitched under yours, hesitant, but he didn’t pull away. He didn't want to. Not when you were this upset.

"And what about me, Toji?" you whispered. "What about how I was supposed to look at you when you were gone?"

Silence.

For the first time in years, he had nothing to say.

And that was what scared you the most.

Your grip on his hand tightened, desperate and unrelenting.

"You're not leaving me." The words came out ragged, almost broken, but they were firm. A demand, not a plea. "You're not leaving us."

Toji said nothing.

His silence only made the panic rise in your chest, your breath hitching as fresh tears slipped down your face. "We'll find something else. Another way. There has to be something."

Still, he stayed quiet, his jaw clenched, his blue-green gaze flickering with something unreadable. "Toji." Your voice cracked. "Say something."

He exhaled, slow and measured, before giving a small nod. Not a word. Not a promise. Just a nod. It wasn't enough. But it was all you had. And that was when you finally broke ever so harshly, like a wave crashing against a cliff. 

The sob tore through you as you collapsed into his arms, gripping onto him like you could hold him here, like if you just held tight enough, time would stop. His arms wrapped around you, slow at first, then firm. Strong. Steady.

He could see Tsumiki trying to hold it together just behind you from the peripheral of his eye, his heart breaking even more at the sight. He hated seeing her so upset. It was harder when it came to the kids. That's why knew he wasn't prepared to see his son's reaction.

"You're not leaving me, goddamn it." you whispered again, your voice muffled against his hospital gown. "I won't let you."

His chest rose and fell beneath you, and you felt it when he pressed his lips to the top of your head, warm and lingering. "I know."

It was a lie.

You both knew it.

But right now, you need to believe it.

epilogue

Fushiguro Tsumiki had never been one to hesitate when it came to family. So when her father Fushiguro Toji started looking smaller in his hospital bed, nothing like the strong, energetic man he used to be, when the weight he had always carried with ease now dragged his shoulders down, when the exhaustion in his face became permanent.

She knew she had to do something.

She had to save her dad.

She wasn't ready to let him go just yet.

She still needed him.

"I want to donate blood to my dad." The words were firm when she said them to the nurse, standing at the reception desk with unwavering resolve.

The nurse blinked at her, startled. "Oh—well, that’s very kind of you, but we’d have to check if you’re a match first."

"I am, I know I am." Tsumiki answered quickly. "I’m AB negative, just like my dad."

The nurse nodded but still reached for a form. "That’s good to hear, but we’ll need to confirm your blood type. It won’t take long, just a quick sample, okay?"

Tsumiki nodded, rolling up her sleeve without hesitation. “Alright. Go drain me.”

Fushiguro Tsumiki hated needles. She always had. She still remembered being a kid, clutching Toji’s hand as the doctor readied the syringe for her booster shots, his deep chuckle rumbling beside her. 

“C’mon, ‘Miki, don’t tell me you’re scared of a tiny–ass needle.”

She had been. But she wasn’t scared now. She can't afford to be that right now. She had to be strong. She can't be weak. Not when Fushiguro Toji looked weaker every day, when his skin lost its color, when his voice, her father’s voice wasn’t as strong as it used to be.

And she hated it.

She needed his strength back.

She needed him back.

So she sat there in the hospital chair, rolling up her sleeve without hesitation, ignoring the way her pulse quickened as the nurse tied a band around her arm. "Just a little pinch, alright?" the nurse said with a small smile.

Tsumiki nodded and looked away. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She smiled at you. “Thank you for doing this for your dad. You’re such a sweet young lady.”

“I’ll do anything for my dad.” Tsumiki smiled at her. 

The nurse smiles wider. “I know you would.”

The sting barely registered.

This was for Toji.

This was nothing.

She flexed her fingers as the vial filled with dark crimson, her lifeblood. His lifeblood. The moment it was over, she pressed a cotton swab against the small puncture, thanked the nurse, and stepped out into the hallway.

And then she waited. The minutes ticked by slowly, her knee bouncing with impatience. It would be fine. It had to be fine. She was AB negative, just like him. Just like her dad. The shuffle of footsteps pulled her out of her thoughts.

Tsumiki looked up just as the nurse approached, holding a clipboard to her chest, her expression unreadable. For some reason, the sight of it made something heavy settle in Tsumiki’s gut. And she didn’t like that feeling.

"Miss Fushiguro?"

"Yeah?"

The nurse hesitated for a beat before glancing at the file again. "I just wanted to clarify something—you said you had type AB negative blood, correct?"

"Yeah." Tsumiki frowned. "I mean, I always thought I did. My dad is AB negative, so I should be, too, right?"

The nurse pursed her lips. "Well… your results just came back, and you’re actually O positive."

Tsumiki blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

"That… that can’t be right."

O positive? That wasn’t right. That wasn’t possible.

"I’m sorry, dear, but the results are accurate." The nurse’s voice was gentle. "You’re an O positive blood. Which means you’re not a match for your father’s blood type."

The world tilted beneath her feet. "No, no." she said quietly to herself. "No, there’s….there’s been a mistake. My dad is AB negative. He has to be my dad."

The words died in her throat. Because suddenly, memories started surfacing. Her father’s teasing voice: "You’re still my little girl, yeah?" 

The way her mother had hesitated that night when she poured her heart out. The way Nanami Kenshin had always looked at her with something unreadable in his bright eyes. The blood drained from her face.

"I… I need to go."

She turned on her heel before the nurse could say anything else.

Because suddenly, her father’s illness wasn’t the only thing breaking her heart.

And she hated how this was the beginning of the never ending break.

[satocouture]

౨ৎ plumber!toji had quite the looks. that just happened to be a plus when you hired him. after all, it's not like you knew what he looked like, when you texted his business number a time and place.

it wasn't your fault. it wasn't your fault that your boring, workaholic husband was always at work. what were you to do? a pretty, bored housewife — one left all alone at home.

"it's the pipes," you say, soft and breathy. as if you aren't dreaming up the nastiest things that could ever come to mind, eyes roving his fit body. pipes, ones that you'd messed with. there wasn't that much leakage, at least not that you could see.

you think. to be honest, you're hardly aware of how much harm you've inflicted onto them.

you're just a little lady, so, what do you know about these things? instead, you lead him to the cabinets underneath the kitchen sink, leaning back against the counter, pretending to be concerned, as he takes a look.

it takes him less than two minutes to realize the damage was dealt on purpose, to which he responds with a roll of his eyes. "if you wanted to fuck, should've just said somethin'."

and, well, that's how you end up with toji's hips snapping brutally against your ass, the cool slab digging into your skin. your palms are damp with the slick of your sweat, desperately trying to ground yourself, as he rams into you relentlessly.

"this — oh, fuck — is want you wanted, yeah? f- fuckin' better take it." the empty house is filled with the lewd sound of squelching, accompanied by a plap, plap, plap!

he groans, dark hair sticking to his brow. "damn husband of yours, he doesn't fuck you good, huh? you're wrecked already, and we just started."

you can't muster a response, whimpering instead. it spurs him on, his cruel pace only increasing. one of his hands are tangled in your hair, yanking back. the other is digging into your hip, sure to leave bruises in the morning.

his cock stretches you out wholly, forcing yourself to mold to the shape of his thick length. your cunt clenches around his, the fluttering hole doing the best it can. you hardly even last long, body tensing.

"shit, ma, you gonna cum, already? cum on my cock, like some slut?" he sneers, right by your ear. he fucks you hard and greedy, driving into you repeatedly.

"mm—! t- toji," you cry, velvety walls squeezing him tight. your body seizes, and you tremble violently, gushing onto his dick. his stamina? it lasted far longer than yours, and he didn't let up, not until he was shooting ropes into your pussy. overstimulated and fucked-out, you'd lost count of how many times he'd pulled orgasms out of you, waiting for his own to come.

and, when he finally leaves (hours, upon hours, later), you realize he never quite fixed the pipes. oh, well. at least, you had a reason to call him back over, right?

[megumismyhusband]

megumi doesn’t notice at first. or maybe he does, but he just assumes you’re cold because, well, it’s winter. everyone’s cold.

but then spring rolls around. then summer. and somehow, your hands are still ice cold every time he touches them.

“why are your hands always freezing?” he asks one day, frowning as you casually reach for your drink. you shrug like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“dunno. just how i am, i guess.”

he stares at you like you just told him you’re actually a lizard in disguise. “that’s not normal.”

“it’s fine,” you say, waving him off. “i’ve always been like this.”

he clearly does not think it’s fine. and you know this because, after that conversation, megumi suddenly starts holding your hands a lot.

like, all the time.

walking down the street? he slips his fingers between yours and acts like it’s nothing, even though you know he’s doing it just to warm up your hands.

lounging at home? he’ll wordlessly grab your hands and tuck them under his hoodie, keeping them pressed against his stomach.

watching a movie? he doesn’t even ask anymore—he just pulls you into his side, traps you under a blanket, and subtly rubs circles into your palms like he’s trying to bring you back to life.

you don’t comment on it. because, honestly? it’s kinda nice.

and if it means getting megumi to be a little extra affectionate with you? well. you’re not complaining.

[uzurakis]

"babe, could you grab that thing for me?"

your body came to a halt for a brief minute, and you looked up from your phone to find that he was not paying attention either. "what did you just say to me?" you asked, your eyebrows quirking in amusement.

"oh," megumi suddenly realised, "i think i didn't make it clear."

“my phone, could you grab my phone for me?"

your laughter filled the room as you shook your head; you aren't going to let him off the hook easily. "no, what you said before that." your boyfriend was bewildered and innocent. “what?"

“what’s with your face?”

“what about it?”

"megumi,” you chuckled between your words. “you just called me babe for the first time."

the man was unsure whether he had actually stated that out. although he has been thinking about it, he was hesitant to start calling you in an endearing way. "that," he objected, attempting to preserve "i did not." he said, hiding his humiliation and the tingling sensation on his face.

you insisted with a grin. "you did."

"i didn't." you didn’t believe he’s still denying, though his blushing betrayed his words.

"but you're red."

"i'm not!”

"fine, whatever you say." you finally relented, handling him his phone. “here, babe."

"shut it." god, megumi is so frustrated, the man can't even look at you, and he's hiding his face as well. even though the endearment made his heart skip a beat, he doesn't want you to know.

however, you will not pass up this opportunity.

"only under one condition," you said, with a wicked grin you had been attempting to conceal. "you call me that again and i'll stop teasing—“

“no!”

it took every bit of him not to surrender to your quirks. nevertheless, he still took the bait. he understood very well he cannot win against you on this one. megumi took a deep breath before saying..

“babe…"

a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “say it again."

"you said you'll stop!" megumi frowns as your laughter bubbled the room.

“i didn't say when though."

n. brainrotting so so bad about this one. i’m a firm believer megumi just subconsciously says whatever he feels and thinks out of the blue and won’t admit it afterwards. it just comes out very natural from his liking (you always took advantage of these moments lmao) — requests are open!

@uzurakis

[kenm4vhs]

the sluttiest waist in the jjk universe

[cuntyji]

cw: toji's an assasian; reader is not, mentions of murder

toji’s grip tightened on the hilt of his blade. the poor bastard had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. it was about to be over — clean, quick, no loose ends. toji’s specialty.

then he pulled out a gun. toji tensed for a split second, until he noticed.

the bow.

a bright pink bow. tied neatly around the barrel like some deranged christmas gift.

the guy’s lips twitched, barely holding back a laugh.

big mistake.

toji silenced him with one swift move before the sound could leave his throat.

a quiet street. a dead body. and a hitman standing there with a gun wrapped like a birthday present.

toji stared at it. this had your name written all over it.

literally.

you’d scrawled "toji’s pew pew <3" with a pink posca marker across the side.

he didn’t know whether to feel betrayed or mortified.

by the time he got home, the bow was stuffed in his pocket, but the marker writing? that wasn’t coming off anytime soon.

"you think this is funny?" he growled, holding it up like evidence at a trial.

"you noticed the bow!" you said, clapping your hands.

he pinched the bridge of his nose. "you really wanna be the next person i corner, huh?"

you grinned, shameless. "admit it. it’s cute."

cute.

toji fushiguro, feared assassin, holding a gun with "toji’s pew pew <3" on it.

you were lucky he was in love with you.

[koishiro]

Dating Toji Fushiguro <3

[inupibaldspot]

Pretty Glossy Lips

Pairing: Fushiguro Megumi x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : College AU where Kugisaki is oddly observant.

Kugisaki is bothered… her eyes keep darting back and forth, it’s as if that ‘thing’ is begging her to look at it.

She quickly shakes her head as her fingers go back to her keyboard as she types away and has her screen divided in three in front of her if she includes her iPad, all with a word doc, an ai tool and ai paraphraser.

“Argh— I feel like I won’t finish in time.” A voice beside her complains making her turn to face the owner of the voice. Beside he is a boy who has his pink hair disheveled, his face highlighted by the light of the bulb in the study room.

“Shut up, Itadori—!” Kugisaki starts shaking Itadori in fury as poor Itadori has his hands waving around as he tries to type in some letters. She hears another sigh as her eyes squint at the other voice. “You got a problem , Fushiguro huhh?”

But her eyes focus on Fushiguro’s lips.

She is wondering if her mind is getting too stressed out but she swears she thinks his lips today look slightly pinker with more gloss if that makes sense…also was that glitter—?!

“Don’t push your anger on me.” He says, eyes not leaving his phones as he types on the screen. “We had a month long period for this assignment. If you guys keep this up, you might not graduate college.” Fushiguro adds which makes Kugisaki flatter and go back to her assignments, eyes trailing to his lips one time.

Just then they hear a knock to the study room as a figure pops their head in. “Sorry I got late. My professor kept going on and on.” You say, with a sheepish smile taking a seat beside Fushiguro.

Kugisaki inwardly smiles as she noticed how quickly Fushiguro’s head seemed to turn as soon as he hears you voice and now you sit with him smiling and continuing on about your professor. The brown shorter haired girl shakes her head when she looks over to Fushiguro who seemed to try and act nonchalantly but no one can deny the blush on his face plus the constipated look.

You were a friend met through Itadori, you guys once got paired in a semester long project and somewhere in between that and now, you guys were as inseparable as one can be, in particular Fushiguro and you. Surprisingly the dark haired stone faced boy was quick to warm up to you; probably it was due to the aura you gave exuded.

You gave out warmth with your warm smile and bright attitude, which makes you stop and take in the way your gaze reflected the warm sun from outside.

Every smile.

Every lighthearted laugh.

It always felt genuine which made Kugisaki adore you to the brim of her heart, you were just so adorable—! But it seemed she wasn’t the only one.

“You guys got only 10 minutes.” You say as you peer over the table to take a peek at their progress, and mentally cringe due to the lack of said progress. “It’s okay! you guys can get it done.” You cheered which earns another subconscious smile from Fushiguro.

“Shit— I should not have played stardew with you Itadori!” Kugisaki grumbled, tugging a piece of hair behind her ear as she types away making, every second count. “It’s all your fault.”

“Eh?” Her statement makes the pink haired boy stop typing and pointing at himself in genuine confusion. “How is it my fault when you were the one inviting me to play?”

As Kugisaki turns to took away, she sees you and Fushiguro now sitting as tad bit closer to before with your shoulders slightly leaning into Fushiguro’s. Your eyes seem to wander nervously taking peeks at her and Itadori while Fushiguro poor figits with his pretty glossy lips pulled into something which is neither a frown or a smile, one hand on the table with a finger tapping away while the other under. Maybe playing with your fingers?

Who know, Kugisaki doesn’t for certain. But she can bet that Fushiguro is currently thinking about you while you’re sitting beside him from his dumb look.

Kugisaki shakes her head and keeps her nose to herself,as she begins typing but she swears it lasted just a millisecond second but she caught it.

In that split second her eyes watches you lean forward and places a kiss on his lips, making the boy stiffen up and pink when you thought Kugisaki and Itadori weren’t looking.

When she sees you about to turn to her and Itadori’s direction, she quickly pulls her eyes back on the screen acting normal. Shit. She thinks. What was that? They’re dating? Shit, why didn’t they tell us? Shit, Fushiguro I didn’t know you had that in you. She dapped him up in her mind. They could have atleast told us though…

Kugisaki uses ever every once of her strength to keep her hands on her keyboard to type away but then there was a sudden click in her brain, which put all the pieces in place. Fushiguro’s glossy lips were from you! Your lip gloss on his lips! Now she can’t stand it any longer as she pulls her hair in realization.

“Why didn’t you guys tell us you’re dating?!” Kugisaki gets up from her seat and points accusingly at the pair infront of her. This makes you let out a embarrassed and confused sound while Fushiguro becomes red—he was caught in broad daylight, as he scrowl at her. “Shut up, Kugisaki.”

“Ahh— I knew your lips were so pink and shiny, no wonder! You have someone kissing them that shade!” With each taunt spewing out of his friend’s mouth, he blushes a deeper tone.

“What? You guys are dating?” Itadori chirps in. “Shit, Kugisaki—! The countdown for the submission started! We only got a minutes left.”

“Submit it Itadori—!” Kugisaki’s attention solely on her laptop. “An incomplete assignment is better than late assignment!”

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? Check out other here (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ) ♡

[basicallyjeankirschtein]

Lost and Found: Toji x Reader x Sukuna SMAU Masterlist

in which you are best friends with gojo and geto, but when you introduce the two to each other, they completely ditch you. before spiraling into depression from the loneliness of losing your two best friends, you’re introduced to two men who change your life.

college au, love triangle, and some angst along crack, this will be a hybrid smau where I write when necessary to fill out some of the plot! enjoy <3

introductions

chap 1

chap 2

chap 3

chap 4

chap 5

chap 6

chap 7

chap 8

chap 9

[mononijikayu]

good old–fashioned lover boy — fushiguro megumi.

“Hey, Megumi?” you asked suddenly, your tone unusually serious. He sighed, bracing himself. “What?” “I like you.” His brain short-circuited. His hand jerked, and his ice cream wobbled dangerously on its cone. "Huh?"

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, use of feminine pronouns, post-shinjuku showdown, post-hidden inventory arc, aged up fushiguro megumi, fluff, friends to lovers, romance, romantic relationship, pet names (babe, megs, kiddo, cactus, etc), humor, teasing, light-hearted, healthy relationship, being in love, slice of life, domestic life, living together, friendship, family, anxiety, self-doubt, encouragement, depictions of anxiety, depiction of healthy relationship, depiction of self-doubt, sorcerer! megumi, gojo! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7k words

NOTE: this went through so much adding, removing and editing cause i kept adding so much and i didn't want this to be something that was too long, considering i want people to not be impatient with me too,,,,,in any case, megumi beat his dad in the last poll season for valentines special which is funny but no worries, toji will appear in the 2.5k follower special!!! in any case, i hope you enjoy this, even a little bit. i love you all so much!!! <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

buono san valentino, 2025;

══════════════════

HE NEVER THOUGHT HE WOULD EVER GET TO THIS POINT. Even when he was young, he wondered what love really looked like. At least of what he could remember of it, he knows. He wasn’t an expert on love, per se.

But he had seen and experienced so many versions of it, each one different from the last, all passing through his rather short life one after the other. 

Some of it was truly a memory that would be worth forgetting, too messy and too complicated, tangled up in unspoken words and distance, yet still undeniably present. Others felt like they belonged to live forever, with its genuine warmth and its eager simplicity, yet always just out of reach. 

When he thinks about both of them, it feels like sunlight slipping through his fingers, like a home he could see but never fully step into. It was hard to express these feelings sometimes, because at times he doesn’t know if any words can encapsulate such overabundance and its extremes. He thinks about it often, how love can take on so many forms. 

How it can be obnoxiously proud and boisterously loud,like Gojo Satoru’s laughter echoing through any room when they’re together, or dazzlingly silent and resiliently tender, like the way his sister Tsumiki used to squeeze his hand just to let him know she was there when his father left.

Love can look a lot like sacrifice, like choosing someone else over yourself. It was just that way to him when you love someone. It can be fleeting, burning bright and disappearing before you ever get the chance to hold onto it.

And just as much, love has many colors, many words, many textures. It can be the rough scrape of bandages being wrapped around bruised knuckles, or the soft hush of a whispered be careful. 

It can be the weight of someone's winter coat draped over his shoulders when he didn’t even realize he was cold. It can be the exhaustion in someone’s voice when they say I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me—even when they clearly aren’t, even when they want to say it out loud.

For a long time, Fushiguro Megumi thought love was something you had to earn. He always thought that it was something you had to be worthy of in order to gain. That if you weren’t good enough, strong enough, or needed enough, it would slip away, leaving nothing but empty space where it once existed.

For as long as he could remember, Megumi carried a gnawing doubt within him. He couldn’t help it. There was a certainty in his soul that love was something distant, always out of reach.

No matter how much he was reminded he mattered, that doubt lingered like a shadow at the edges of his heart. He didn’t know where it came from exactly, only that it had burrowed deep inside, whispering that he was undeserving.

At times, he wondered if love was something some people were simply never born to have. Maybe it was a gift reserved for those with a past worth cherishing or a future worth hoping for.

He had neither. He didn’t even know how he had come into this world or who he was meant to be. How could someone who didn’t know themselves be worthy of love?

But then in his doubt, came the truth and that was named you.

You who was like the meteorite that crashed on his Earth.

You who was the universe he found himself alive for the first time.

And suddenly, the thought of love, the very word, feels like something else entirely. The word somehow finally made sense. Something he doesn’t have to chase or fight for.

Something that stays. Something that holds his hand and meets him where he is, rather than waiting for him to catch up. And more than ever, his heart felt full of warmth in the spring of love.

Fushiguro Megumi never expected to find love’s truth, not like this. And certainly not with someone like you. The two of you were just too different, especially when you were children. He didn’t understand why Gojo Satoru thought that it would be a good idea for you both to meet. 

He was all quiet brooding and thoughtful stares, while you were a storm of energy and laughter, moving through life like gravity itself. Megumi could easily remember the first time Gojo Satoru introduced you both when you were children.

You were Gojo’s little niece, his only one and since he and Tsumiki were the only kids around your age, he thought it would be wise for you to meet them, especially Megumi.

But what was premonition on Gojo Satoru’s part was that the two were destined to be best friends. Though back then, he looked at him with a weird look that could only be akin to a cat’s soured frown.

What was Gojo about? Megumi couldn’t help thinking. And why does he keep talking about it with a grin on his face? I don’t even know the kid.

"You'll love her, Megumi!" Gojo grinned, ruffling his dark hair with an obnoxiously affectionate hand. "She's just like me—minus the blindingly handsome part."

Megumi scowled, swatting Gojo's hand away. "That sounds like a nightmare."

Gojo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "A nightmare? Me? You wound me, kid."

"Good." Megumi muttered.

Gojo chuckled, unfazed. "Seriously though, she's great. Full of energy, adventurous, charming—"

"Loud." Megumi deadpanned.

"You're not wrong, kid." Gojo admitted with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "But that just means she’ll bring some excitement into your broody little life. Trust me, it'll be fun!"

"Your definition of fun is questionable." Megumi muttered.

Before he could come up with a decent excuse to escape this impending chaos, Gojo Satoru stops at one of the massive wooden buildings around the gardens. Fushiguro Megumi could not mentally prepare as you came barreling around the corner, waving enthusiastically towards the,.

"Uncle Satoru!" you shouted gleefully, sprinting toward them.

"There's my favorite niece!" Gojo grinned, catching you in a playful spin before setting you down. 

You giggled. “But I’m your only niece!”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite, sweets.” He ruffles your hair too, eliciting another giggle from you. "Hey, sweets, I came with a visitor. This is Megumi. He's about your age, and I'm officially declaring you two best friends starting now."

"Best friends?" you tilted your head, scrutinizing Megumi like he was some science experiment. "He looks grumpy, uncle Satoru."

Megumi crossed his arms, his expression flat. "And you look annoying."

Your face scrunched into an exaggerated pout. "And you look like a cactus."

Gojo, who had been sipping from a juice box like some oversized child, promptly choked and burst into uncontrollable laughter. "Oh, I love this already. Besties immediately!" he wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. "You two are gonna be perfect together."

Megumi's brows furrowed. "What does that even mean?"

"Cactus vibes." you said confidently, tapping your chin. "Tall, spiky, and grumpy."

"I am not grumpy." he protested, though his tone only made your point stronger.

"And yet here we are, cactus!" you quipped with a cheeky grin.

Gojo cackled, slinging an arm around Megumi's shoulders. "You are kinda cactus-y, kid. But hey, she’s got the sunshine to balance you out. You might even grow a flower or something."

Megumi sighed in defeat. "I don’t need metaphors from you of all people."

"Don’t worry, cactus boy." you grinned, poking his arm. "I like a challenge."

"Great." Megumi muttered under his breath. "Now I’m stuck with a loud weirdo and a lunatic white haired old guy."

Gojo clapped his hands together triumphantly. "See? This is friendship in the making."

Megumi glared at both of you, but Gojo’s laughter and your bright smile made it hard to hold on to the scowl. Maybe Gojo wasn’t entirely wrong—though he wasn’t about to admit that anytime soon. Not just yet. He wasn’t one to give in just because there was space for it. 

Megumi sighed, already regretting every decision that had led him to this moment. "This is going to be a disaster."

"Disaster?" you grinned wickedly. "Sounds fun!"

Gojo clapped his hands together, beaming. "See? Told ya you'd love her."

Megumi grimaced. "I'm already doubting that."

From the start of you two starting to play together, you easily grated his nerves. He hated how loud you were, hated how you always seemed to find trouble at every turn, and somehow, at every sudden thought you had, you easily managed to drag him into it too.

And that was perhaps the most infuriating part: he hated how effortlessly you pulled him into your orbit. But the truth was, he never really hated you at all. He liked you, genuinely and deeply, in a way that bewildered him. He just didn’t understand it back then.

"Come on, Megumi! Don’t be boring!" you'd whine, tugging insistently on his arm as a mischievous glint sparked in your eyes. "Help me put these fart pillows on their chairs!"

Megumi stared at you, deadpan. "You're going to get us both in trouble."

You waved off his concern like it was a pesky fly. "Trouble? Nah. It'll be hilarious. Just picture it with a very vivid imagination. The Gojo elders, all serious and proper, sitting down to a pfft! symphony. Priceless!"

"I like being boring." he grumbled, firmly rooted in place even as his feet betrayed him by inching forward.

"No, you pretend to like being boring, Megs." you shot back confidently, dragging him along despite his weak protests. "Deep down, you’re just waiting for me to show you how fun life can be."

Megumi sighed heavily. "You have an overactive imagination."

"And you have underdeveloped prank skills." you retorted with a grin, tossing him one of the cushions. "Come on, you're already in this. May as well go all in."

He stared at the cushion in his hand, weighing the likelihood of Gojo elders delivering a stern lecture versus the small, treacherous part of him that was curious about their reactions.

"Fine." he muttered, resigning himself to chaos. "But if we get caught, this was your idea."

"Deal!" you grinned triumphantly. "Now, put that under the grumpiest elder's seat. It'll be poetic."

Megumi couldn't suppress the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he followed your lead. Chaos was inevitable, but with you, it was never boring—and maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind that so much.

“You’re always scowling, do you notice?” you teased, nudging his shoulder. “But I’m pretty sure you don’t actually hate me, y'know.”

Megumi rolled his green-blue eyes. “That’s debatable.”

“Oh please, you’re basically glued to me at this point.”

“You glue yourself to me.” he countered, lips twitching despite himself.

“Admit it, Megs!" you grinned. "You like me.”

He sighed, long and exaggerated, like he was being asked to move a mountain rather than admit his feelings. "Maybe." he muttered under his breath, the word barely audible.

But it was enough for you. Your entire face lit up, your grin brighter than Gojo's sunglasses on a summer day. "Is that a maybe from Megumi? I'll take it!"

He groaned inwardly, already regretting his choice of words. 

But the warmth spreading through his chest betrayed him. 

Perhaps, the truth is that there was no maybe about it.

And over time, as the days blurred into years and you remained firmly by his side, continuing to drag him into your schemes when he came around the Gojo manor, making him laugh when he least expected it, and somehow softening his rough edges. He would have figured it out. There were more words for you than just like.

It hit him one afternoon during a clan gathering. The elders were droning on about something he wasn't paying attention to, but his green-blue orbs were somehow trained on you, standing across the garden path, animated as always. 

Then he showed up.

That stupid clan boy with a perfectly styled ponytail and a smug look that Megumi immediately decided he hated.

Megumi's eyes harshly narrowed as the boy leaned in, all charming confidence, and reached for your delicate hand. He watched as your fingers slid easily into the boy's, and something inside him snapped. Something he never expected to be inside him whatsoever.

"Nope." Megumi muttered under his breath, already stalking across the garden before he could think better of it.

You blinked in surprise as Fushiguro Megumi suddenly appeared beside you, his strong hand suddenly and possessively wrapping around your own hand, pulling it free from his new enemy, the Ponytail Boy's grip. 

"Hey, I was talking to her, you punk." Ponytail Boy protested.

"She's busy." Megumi said flatly, not even sparing the guy a glance.

"I am?" you blinked up at him, amused.

"Yeah. With me."

You bit back a laugh, warmth blooming in your chest as you squeezed his hand. "Well, when you put it like that..."

As Ponytail Boy slunk away, clearly outmatched by Megumi's sheer intensity, you grinned up at him. "Jealous much?"

"No." he said far too quickly, his ears turning an undeniable shade of pink.

You beamed. "Adorable."

"You're imagining things." he grumbled, but his grip on your hand remained firm.

And in that moment, without needing to say a word, you both knew: there was never a maybe. Not for him, not when it came to you.

Fast forward to Valentine’s Day, 2017.

This was a day that was already testing Fushiguro Megumi’s patience with all the pink balloons, heart-shaped everything, and couples everywhere. It was hard enough that he felt these possibly one–sided feelings for you. But now he had to be confronted with the idea of love once again. And he hated it. He hated it too much.

The only reason he’s bearing with all of it was that you had urged him to meet up because you wanted ice–cream. And for the first time in a long time, you were allowed to leave the confines of Gojo Manor, to visit your uncle in Tokyo. And by extension, hang out with him.

The two of you sat on a park bench, quietly enjoying your cones under the peak of the beam of the persistent sun. Well, he was trying to enjoy his, but you kept sneaking bites from him despite having your own. And he could not for the life of him stop taking glances at you with these eyes of his.

“Hey, Megumi?” you asked suddenly, your tone unusually serious.

He sighed, bracing himself. “What?”

“I like you.”

His brain short-circuited. His hand jerked, and his ice cream wobbled dangerously on its cone. "Huh?"

“I said.” you grinned, clearly enjoying his reaction, “I like you. Like like-like you.”

Megumi blinked, as though processing your words required advanced calculus. “Is this... is this because it’s Valentine’s Day? Like some weird theme confession? Is this some stupid prank from you?”

You laughed. “No, dummy. I just thought today was as good a day as any to tell you."

He stared at you, his heart doing some chaotic drum solo against his ribs. “Oh.”

“Oh?” you teased, leaning closer. “That’s it? Just oh?”

Megumi huffed, looking away as if the pigeons nearby were suddenly fascinating. “I... I guess I like you too.”

You gasped dramatically. “Oh my gosh, was that a confession? Did Megumi Fushiguro just confess his feelings, romantically?”

“Stop making it weird, you dummy.” he grumbled, ears turning bright red.

“Too late!” you beamed, nudging his arm. “We’re totally counting that as your confession. Mark it in the history books: Valentine’s Day, 2017, Megumi Fushiguro admitted he likes me!”

He groaned. “I should’ve dropped my ice cream and run when I had the chance.”

“But you didn’t.” you teased, bumping his shoulder.

“No." he muttered, hiding a small, reluctant smile. "I didn’t."

And so began Fushiguro Megumi’s unexpected, often confusing, and undeniably heartfelt adventure to understand love.

Love, as it turned out, wasn’t some abstract ideal or distant fairy tale — it was you, standing right in front of him, messy and beautiful in all your chaotic brilliance. Love was shaped by you, and to him, that made it the most perfect thing he could ever hope for.

But he had to be honest: it wasn’t easy. And it will never be easy.

He struggled with it more than he cared to admit. Love wasn’t just about keeping you safe, though his protective instincts always flared when you tripped into trouble. It wasn’t just quiet affection either, where he'd stand in the background making sure you had space to shine. Love wasn’t just comfort found in familiar silences, though he cherished those too.

No, love was new.

Love was terrifying.

Love demanded vulnerability and bravery in ways that battles never did. Because of this love, his heart would stutter when you smiled at him, catching him off guard like a punch he never saw coming.

It made his chest ache in a strange, bittersweet way when you were upset — as though he carried your burdens alongside his own. It made him want to try, even when his instincts told him to retreat into silence.It made him want to be someone worthy of that love, someone who would stay, despite the part of him that feared he never could.

It’s in the little things, the moments that are easy to overlook if you’re not paying close attention. But when you do, when you really see him, it’s impossible to miss the depth of his love. And you tell him each time, you adore it. Everything about it was perfect.

It’s the way he loves you in the quietest and yet loudest way all at once so beautifully. It’s in the way he waits for you after class, leaning casually against a wall, trying to look indifferent, but you know—you always know—he’s been there for much longer than he lets on. 

It’s the way he keeps track of your favorite snacks, the ones you forget to buy when you’re too busy with school, work, or whatever else life throws at you. And when you’re rushing out the door, he slips them into your bag with a quiet, almost invisible smile. No words, just a simple gesture of care that makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

It’s in the way he insists on walking on the side of the road closest to the street, always positioning himself between you and the traffic like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand brushes against yours, ever so lightly, but there’s a promise there—a silent vow of protection, of never letting anything bad happen to you if he can help it.

It’s in the way he takes off his uniform coat on a chilly evening when he visits you and presses it against your own body, his eternal warmth enveloping you like a shield against the winter cold. The way his hands linger just a little longer than necessary, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that speaks volumes about how much he cares.

And it’s not just in the little things. Sometimes, it’s in the quiet way he listens when you talk about everything that’s on your mind, even the things you think are too insignificant to mention.

You could ramble on for minutes, spilling out thoughts, worries, and stories, and he’ll just stand there, eyes blossoming with affection, his attention never wavering. 

He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t offer unsolicited advice. He just listens to you. Just truly listens to you, as though he truly wants to understand you, to carry your thoughts for you if he can. To make sure that he holds your thoughts as closely as you do his.

It’s in the rare moments when he’s vulnerable, those quiet admissions that sneak out when he thinks you’re not paying attention. The way his gaze softens when he talks about his past, about how he’s learned to trust you.

It’s in the way his hand finds yours when you least expect it. Sometimes just a brush of fingers, other times a firm grip that says I’m here, no questions asked.

And there’s the way he tries to make you smile when he knows you’ve had a bad day. He doesn’t have to try hard, because you know the secret behind his subtle humor, his dry wit. Just a look from him can turn the world back to normal, like the simple fact that you’re together is enough to make everything right again.

And in those little moments, your heart beats faster—over and over again.

Somehow, each moment, each time was louder with love than the last.

It was easy to see how much he loved you and only you.

Of course, Fushiguro Megumi isn’t great with words, you know that much. He’s told you from the very beginning. But he’s never needed to say much, because he always shows you. Actions meant more to you.

So, he makes sure, without fail, to let you feel his devotion, every single time. Even when his words falter or he stumbles on his feelings, that doesn’t matter much to you. 

The way he loves you is almost a quiet rebellion against everything he's known about himself, about what he knows love, that was enough to turn the world upside down. Fushiguro Megumi’s never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve and even with you, it causes him a lot of grief. 

Fushiguro Megumi adores you, much more than he could ever hope. And just as much, he feels like he fails at it. At least that’s how he feels about it. He thinks he just can’t help it.

He can’t help but feel like his actions are not enough, that his sleeve isn’t wearing your heart close to him. It’s like he’s falling short of being someone worthy of you, when you do so much for him.

Sometimes, it feels like no matter what he does, it isn’t enough. It frustrates him, gnaws at him late at night when he stares at the ceiling, wondering if he loves you enough, if he shows it enough.

Because you make it look so easy. You laugh when you’re happy, you say I love you so freely, and you never hesitate to pull him into a hug, or press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He wants to be more proactive, just like you. He wants to be as good as you when it comes to love. But he’s stiff. Awkward. Someone who is a little too rough around the edges, perhaps even more than that.

It’s not that he doesn’t love you, he does, so much it terrifies him. Yet he struggles with what words to use or would those words be enough.It had been years. 

"You know…." he grumbled, leaning against a wall and watching you laugh at something Maki said. "I wish I could just... I don’t know, tell her I love her. Like a normal person."

Nobara raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips. "Normal? Megumi, you are literally the least normal person I know, and that’s saying something."

"Hey!" Yuuji protested, nudging her. "You can’t say that about our bro. He’s a classic kind of weird."

Nobara ignored him. "So what’s the problem? You’ve been dating her for years now. I’m pretty sure you’re closer to marriage now. How have you not told her you love her yet?"

Megumi squirmed, tapping his foot awkwardly. "I don’t know. It’s just... I can’t make it sound right. I’m not... loud enough, you know?"

Yuuji snorted. "Bro, are you telling me you can't even shout ‘I love you’ in her face like a normal person?"

"Yuuji!" Nobara scolded, glaring at him. "This is Megumi we’re talking about. He’s more of a ‘grumble in the corner’ kind of guy. Or you know, ‘act it out like a mime if I can’t say it out loud’ sort of guy."

Megumi just groaned. "Exactly! I can’t just scream it! That’s...weird, right?"

Nobara crossed her arms. "You’re seriously telling me you can’t even try? I mean, look at her!" She pointed at you as you walked over, still in your own world. "She’s practically begging for you to shout it out loud!"

Megumi shot her a side-eye. "She is not begging for anything."

"I mean, I’m just saying, Megumi." Yuuji shrugged. "The guy who practically glows around his girlfriend could definitely manage a 'Hey, I love you!' without coming off as weird."

"I don’t glow." Megumi muttered, but he was starting to feel the heat creeping up his neck.

Nobara clapped him on the back. "Okay, look, here’s what you do: You. Take a deep breath. And then—" She paused, putting her hands together in a mock prayer. "You say it loud and proud: 'I love you! You're my sunshine! You’re the ketchup to my fries! The soy sauce to my sushi!' You get it?"

"That’s not what I’m trying to say at all." Megumi protested, now totally flustered.

"Come on, just let it out!" Yuuji grinned, his energy bouncing off the walls. "You love her, right? Then scream it from the top of your lungs!" He pulled out a random megaphone from his bag. "I’ll even provide the sound effects!"

"Yuuji, I swear to—"

"Just... just say it however you feel comfortable." Nobara interrupted with a knowing look. "But maybe—maybe—try something that doesn’t sound like you're reading from a self-help book, yeah?"

Megumi took a deep breath, hands still sweaty. "I don't even know if I can—"

"You totally can, I know you can!" Yuuji encouraged, giving him a thumbs-up. "Just say it, man! Use songs, do whatever. Just tell her out loud! Think about it like it's a movie moment! Gotta go big!”

Megumi had their words in his head all day and now it was simmering too long. He couldn’t help but look at you for a moment. You’re sitting beside him on the couch, leaning into his side as you scroll through your phone, checking what to buy for your mom’s birthday.

The sound of the television hums in the background, playing a show neither of you are really watching. The warmth of your presence should be comforting, but it only makes his heart heavier with the weight of everything he wants to say.

He steals a glance at you. The way your lips are slightly parted in concentration, the soft glow of the screen illuminating your features. And god, he loves you. He just does, too much, too overwhelmingly. But the words get stuck in his throat, trapped behind the walls he hasn’t quite learned how to break down.

Still, he tries.

You know he does.

That’s why you love him.

Your good–old fashioned lover boy.

“I, uh…” He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “I—uh, you know I—”

You blink up at him, amused. “Are you having a stroke, babe?”

“No.” he grumbles, ears already turning red. “I’m trying to say something.”

“Oh?” You set your phone down, tilting your head. “Then say it.”

Megumi swallows, his body somehow tense. He can feel the words clogging his throat, his mind screaming at him to just get it over with. Megumi looks at you, nervously, his face red from it all. His fingers twitch at his sides.

You can see the way he shifts his weight like he’s debating whether this was a terrible idea. (It probably is, he thinks. Overwhelmingly, to be sure).

But still, for some reason—maybe insanity, maybe the way you’re looking at him so expectantly. Yet, he decides to go through with it anyway. If he bombs, you’ll laugh and that would be worth it too.

Clearing his throat, he mutters. “I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things.”

You blink at him, your head tilting slightly. “Huh?”

He’s already regretting it, but at this point, he can’t just stop. His voice is a little lower now, more hesitant, but he continues, “We can do the tango just for two.”

Now you’re really confused. Your brows furrow, and he can see the gears turning in your head, trying to piece together what exactly he’s saying. But he keeps going, voice a little stiffer, a little more awkward than before. Almost instantly, he can feel the heat crawling up his neck.

“I can serenade and gently play on your heartstrings.”

And then finally—it clicks for you.

Your lips part slightly before curling into a slow, amused smile.

“Ah.” you hum, crossing your arms. “So Queen’s lyrics are your idea of romance poetry, babe?”

Megumi tenses like he’s been caught doing something unspeakably embarrassing, his entire face burning. “It’s not—” he starts, before cutting himself off with a frustrated sigh. “You know what, never mind.” 

He shakes his head, looking utterly done with himself, already gearing up to escape this moment entirely. But before he can retreat into his usual brooding silence, you reach out and take his hand, lacing your fingers through his. He freezes at the warmth of your touch, and when he looks back at you, you’re grinning, eyes twinkling with delight.

“No, no. I love it, babe.” you say, squeezing his hand. And then, with that playful glint in your eye, like when you were kids. It was the one that made his heart do something stupid. You continue. “I mean, I can also be your Valentino just for you.”

Megumi stares at you, utterly dumbfounded. For a second, he looks like he’s buffering, as if his brain is refusing to process what just happened. And then, finally, he groans, dragging a hand down his scarlet colored face. “I hate you.”

You burst into laughter, tugging him a little closer. “No, you don’t.”

And the worst part? You’re right. 

Because despite the sheer, soul-crushing embarrassment consuming him, despite everything in his being telling him he should never have attempted this in the first place, he doesn’t let go of your hand. No matter what, he had to hold your hand, even if he was using his other one to hide his red face.

Fushiguro Megumi exhales sharply, his fingers twitching in your grasp as if debating whether to pull away or hold on tighter. He settles for something in between—keeping his hand in yours but looking anywhere but at you, like that might save him from further humiliation. 

Spoiler: it doesn’t.

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” he mutters, his voice flat but laced with unmistakable exasperation.

You grin, squeezing his hand. “Oh, absolutely.”

Megumi groans, dropping his head back against the couch dramatically, like he’s hoping the universe will take pity on him and make this all go away. But the universe, as it often does when it comes to you, seems to have other plans.

Not only are you still holding onto him, your fingers intertwined so snugly. But you’re also swaying your linked hands gently, like you’re encouraging him to dance. He sighs deeply, a mixture of annoyance and amusement in his voice.

“You’re seriously not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope, never.” you answer, grinning, your voice light and teasing. “Was the idea from Yuuji? Or was it Nobara?”

“How did you—”

You giggled. “Who else is going to make you do something like this and thinks it would work?”

He groans at you, shaking his head. “Look, I was desperate. And it just….”

“It did work, you know.” You say to him, flicking his hand with your fingers. A big smile on your face. “Your message was well received.”

“......Was it really?” He could feel his heart pounding hard against his chest.

You nodded happily. “It did. Though, I have to say…..I thought we were doing the tango just for two. Are you backing out now, Mr. Lover Boy?”

Megumi’s eyes snap open at your words, and he immediately narrows them at you, clearly ready to refuse. “We are not—”

But it’s too late.

In a swift motion, you’re already standing, tugging him up with you, not giving him a chance to protest. You can’t help but laugh at the way he stumbles slightly, thrown off balance for just a second before he catches himself, his eyes wide in a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he mutters, a scowl pulling at his lips as he steadies himself, trying to hold onto what little pride he has left. His shoulders are tense, like he’s trying to act annoyed, but you can see the corner of his lips twitching as if he’s fighting back a reluctant smile.

You tilt your head, still grinning. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta drag you out of your shell every now and then, right?”

Megumi huffs, looking at you like he’s been cornered, but there’s no real anger in his eyes. He’s already giving in, whether he likes it or not. His hands hover at his sides for a moment before one of them moves to hold yours more firmly, as if to say he’s not completely defeated yet.

“Fine, fine.” he grumbles, finally giving in, his voice soft but with a hint of warmth creeping through. “But don’t expect me to make this look good.”

You give him an exaggerated pout. “Aww, I have high hopes for you, babe. I think you’ll be a natural.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s an undeniable softness in his gaze now. The usually guarded Fushiguro Megumi is slipping away, replaced by the version of him that’s willing to indulge you, even if it means he’ll probably trip over his own feet a few times.

“Yeah, right.” he mutters, but his hand tightens around yours, and just for a second, he lets go of his usual serious demeanor.

“And you’re blushing.” you point out smugly.

He immediately looks away, ears burning. “No, I’m not.”

You chuckle, stepping a little closer, resting your free hand lightly against his shoulder. “You are. But that’s okay.” you say, voice softening just enough to make his heart stutter. “It’s cute.”

Megumi grumbles something incoherent under his breath, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, his grip on your hand tightens. For a moment, there’s just the two of you, just eager to be standing close to one another.

Your bodies sway slightly, wrapped up in something that feels light and easy and warm. It’s embarrassing, but somehow, it’s also nice. All too nice.

After a beat of silence, you tilt your head, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes. “So… does this mean you’re more of a Somebody to Love kind of guy? Or just a Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy?” You pause for effect, smirking. “Are you gonna take me to a club, or to the Ritz?”

Megumi freezes for a second, caught off guard by your incessant teasing. The edges of his prominent cheeks quickly go a little pink to cherry red, and he looks at you like he’s trying to figure out how to answer without sounding completely ridiculous.

“I—I’m not, uh…” He stammers, waving his hand dismissively, clearly flustered. “I’m not a Queen fan, okay? I just—” He trails off, suddenly aware that he’s over-explaining. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

You snicker, leaning in just a little closer, your voice teasing but warm. “You sure about that, Megumi?”

“My name is babe.” His eyes dart around, like he’s hoping for an escape, but then his gaze flicks to you, and he slumps in defeat. “Also…. I don’t really know. You’re a Queen fan. But I’m not a Queen fan, alright?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really.”

You cross your arms, squinting at him, pretending to analyze him like he’s some kind of puzzle. “Okay, then. So tell me, what about Weezer?”

He blinks, a confused frown pulling at his lips. “What? What does Weezer have to do with this?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” you tease. “Except the fact that you’re practically obsessed with their music. You do listen to Buddy Holly and Say It Ain’t So on repeat, right? I mean just Island in the Sun alone, babe…..”

Megumi’s face flushes an even deeper shade of red, and he clears his throat uncomfortably. “I—I like their music. That doesn’t mean…”

You’re grinning now, enjoying his discomfort. “That doesn’t mean what? That you don’t like romantic stuff?”

He opens his mouth to protest, but the words don’t come out. Instead, he just huffs, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of his cool demeanor. “Weezer’s not romantic.”

You raise your hand in mock surrender, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “Oh, sure, just a bunch of songs about heartbreak, longing, and that old-school, angsty vibe. Totally not romantic.”

“Shut up.” he mutters, looking away and crossing his arms in his typical brooding fashion. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But I do, I do, Mr. Fushiguro Megumi.”

He looks at you again, frowning. “Why are you calling me by my name? Aren’t I babe?”

You can’t help but laugh, a light sound that makes him glance back at you, half-exasperated and half-amused. “I’m just saying, babe.” you continue, poking his chest with a finger. “If you love Weezer, you’re basically guaranteed to love romantic stuff too. You might not admit it, but it’s in there, just waiting to come out.”

He groans, dropping his face into his hands, embarrassed and defeated. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re cute when you get all defensive.” you tease, giving him a gentle nudge. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna force you to do some big romantic gesture… yet. But I can see it, babe. Deep down, I know you’ve got it in you.”

He sighs, not bothering to fight it anymore. “Whatever.”

You can’t help but grin, your heart light and warm from the back-and-forth. The teasing, the playfulness. This was just on brand. It feels like an easy rhythm between you two, like a dance he didn’t expect to enjoy but now can’t help but follow. You’ve gotten under his skin in the best way possible, and the connection is undeniable.

“No, seriously.” you say, your voice softening, letting the playfulness slip away just enough to let something deeper surface. “It’s okay, babe. Don’t worry about it. You’re just what you are. And I love that. You don’t have to hide that from me.”

Your boyfriend doesn’t say anything. For a moment, the world around you seems to still. The playful air between you two quiets for just a beat, and in that space, Megumi shifts slightly, as if he’s considering something deeper than just the teasing.

His gaze softens, and for the first time, there’s no defensiveness in it. It’s genuine. It’s a look that tells you he’s letting his guard down, just a little.

And then, for once, he doesn’t try to hide the small smile tugging at his lips. It’s subtle, almost shy, but it’s there. The kind of smile that says he’s not perfect, but he’s trying. And that, in itself, makes your heart swell. Your grin can’t help but grow wider. You’re winning.

“Besides, babe….” you add, your voice teasing but affectionate. “You’re romantic. You’re my lover boy, aren’t you?”

Megumi freezes, and the light in his blue-green orbs slowly shifts. There was a mix of disbelief and amusement, like he’s trying to process the words you just threw at him. His face flushes, and he rubs the back of his neck, clearly caught off guard.

“Fine.” He sighs, the word heavy with resignation. “Maybe… maybe I’m not totally immune to it. Being…being your lover boy.”

You raise your eyebrows, giving him a teasing glance. “Oh? So it’s true?”

“Only…” His voice drops slightly, like he’s about to admit something that feels too vulnerable for him. He shifts again, looking away from you, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“Hm?” You nudge him, your voice light, but there’s a warmth in it now, something that makes his heart stumble a little.

“Only because I really like—”

You raise a hand quickly, cutting him off with a playful wag of your finger. “Uh, uh. It’s the other word.”

Megumi’s eyes widen as the weight of what you mean hits him. He swallows hard, visibly embarrassed now. “Yeah, yeah. I… I love you.”

The words hang between you two for a moment, and your grin spreads wider, your heart fluttering with an almost childlike joy. “Much better, lover boy.” you say, your voice soft but full of satisfaction, like you’ve finally heard the thing you’ve been waiting to hear for so long. 

Megumi huffs, his face still pink, but his posture loosens just a bit. You can feel the tension in him fading, the part of him that has always held back just a little, a part that he didn’t know how to let go of, finally giving in to what he truly feels.

You chuckle, stepping closer and giving his hand a playful squeeze. “I knew it. Deep down, I knew you were a softie all along. A softie I love.”

Megumi grumbles, rolling his eyes dramatically, but there’s no real heat behind it. His cheeks are still a little flushed, and his lips twitch like he’s trying to hide a smile. His voice drops to something quieter, almost tender, as he mutters. “Shut up.”

You grin even wider, brushing your shoulder lightly against his. “Aww, look at that. I made you all shy.”

He groans, but there’s no force in it. He gives your hand a little squeeze back, his touch almost gentle, like he’s trying to hide just how much he’s enjoying this. You can see the corner of his mouth twitch upward, even if he’s pretending not to care.

“You’re impossible.” he mutters, but it sounds more like an affectionate confession than anything else.

You lean up, brushing a soft kiss to his cheek, your voice teasing. “Impossible, huh? I think you just like having me around.”

Megumi’s eyes widen for a second, and he quickly looks away, though you can see the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Shut up.”

But the way his hand stays in yours says everything you need to know. You laugh, a soft, melodic sound that seems to melt the last of his resistance. There’s something about him, in this moment, that feels right. Like everything he’s been trying to hide is coming to the surface, and you’re the only one who gets to see it.

His bright eyes flicker to yours, a silent acknowledgment passing between you two. No more barriers, no more hesitation. Just you and him. And you realize, as you watch him trying so hard not to smile, that despite his grumbling, despite the layers of defensiveness he wraps himself in, maybe Megumi really is a romantic at heart. He loves you, after all.

══════════════════

epilogue 

The evening had settled in, soft golden light filtering through the windows, casting a warm glow over the kitchen. Fushiguro Megumi was standing over the stove.

There was a half-smile tugging at his lips as he stirred something in a pan, pretending to be nonchalant. You’d been chatting and laughing with him, but now you were distracted by the phone buzzing on the counter next to you.

“Hey, check my phone, will you? I think I missed a call while I was cooking dinner. Might be Maki–senpai.” he called, not even looking over his shoulder. His tone was casual, but you could sense a hint of something beneath the surface. Something that made you curious.

You reached for his phone, raising an eyebrow at the way he’d phrased it. Missed a call, huh? When you opened it, you found that the call had already disappeared, as if it was never even there. Strange, you thought, but didn’t give it too much thought—until a new notification popped up on his screen.

A notification from Spotify.

You clicked it without thinking, the app opening automatically. You froze, blinking at the screen in surprise. The very first thing that caught your eye was a playlist titled My GF’s Favorite Tunes.

Your heart skipped a beat as you scrolled through, realizing the entire playlist was a mix of Queen songs, Weezer hits, Taylor Swift, and a whole lot of other random songs that somehow seemed to perfectly fit your taste. You blinked, then let out a small, surprised laugh.

“What is this…?” You murmured, flipping through more of the tracks, utterly charmed by the odd yet thoughtful combination of songs. Some of the tracks were ones you had casually mentioned liking, others you never thought he'd remember.

You could feel Megumi standing behind you now, his footsteps quiet on the floor. “What’s up?” His voice had an almost imperceptible shift in it, but you didn’t look back at him right away.

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” you said, your grin spreading wider as you glanced over the playlist one more time, now thoroughly amused. “Just, you know… a little surprise.”

You gently set his phone down on the counter and turned toward him, your grin widening as you closed the distance. Megumi looked at you, confusion and a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes. “What? What’s so funny?”

Without another word, you wrapped your arms around him in a sudden, tight embrace. Megumi froze, his body stiff in surprise. He stood there for a second, the silence between you two stretching, before he gently placed his hands on your back, his voice a little rough with a quiet, unexpected warmth. 

“What’s this for, hm?”

You pulled back just enough to smile up at him, your heart still beating with fondness. “For being the cutest, loving, prettiest, person I’ve ever met. And for making me a playlist that proves you’re secretly the most romantic person alive.”

Megumi blinked, his usual cool exterior cracking for a second as he flushed a little under the weight of your words. He looked away, muttering under his breath. “It’s… it’s just some songs. Nothing big at all—”

You laughed softly, pulling him closer again. “Well, you sure know how to make me smile, don’t you?”

His beautiful lips pressed into a tender smile reserved just for you. And for once, there was no argument. Just the quiet, comfortable warmth of being together, in each other’s arms. Nothing was more perfect than this moment right here, you were sure.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ i'll stay on this drive for as long as you'd like | fushiguro megumi

wc: 3.2k

summary: megumi knows you a lot better than you think.

contains: f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!reader, non-curse!au, college!au, established relationship, hurt/comfort.

a/n: some songs for the vibe: streetcar - daniel caesar, the movies - nightly, night drive - red velvet.

part: 1 | 2 | 3 series m.list: by your passenger seat

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: acting like it’s okay when you know it’s too much 

sponsored by @ceroseis and @itskilau for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please check it out and support if you can!

It’s on the drive back from one of your friends’ graduation afterparty that Megumi can tell something’s off. 

The trees whizzing past your window begin to dwindle, commercial buildings replacing them bit by bit—a clear sign of your trip drawing further away from the party venue and closer to the bustling streets of home. 

He looks over to you every now and then, your back pressed against the black leather seats of his sedan. That spot is yours, adjusted and fitted to your liking; on most days, you settle into it comfortably, but tonight, you sit with unease. 

There’s a tightness around your shoulders that extends all the way down to your clenched fists, and if it still isn’t any obvious from that, it’s one look at how you bite down tensely on your jaw that gives you away completely. 

Are you cold? He wonders, then checks the AC. 

Spring has brought in warmer days, but the nights are unpredictable—

His brows furrow, one hand tightening around the steering wheel as he uses the other to increase the temperature slightly. Just in case. 

—you’re still wearing the microfleece jacket he brought to the afterparty. 

Only a few words have been exchanged between you two so far—which is not unusual. Car rides with you are typically silent, comfortable in that either of you can speak whenever you want; there’s never any pressure to fill in empty pauses and long stretches of nothingness. 

It’s always a shared look, maybe a touch; a joint experience in enjoying each other's company despite not doing much.

But, this quiet is different. Tense. One that’s riddled with feelings you seem to be hiding. 

Megumi can tell. 

You pick your nails from his periphery, your lower lip caught between your teeth as you focus on the road straight ahead. On your lap rests your phone, filled with songs queued up for CarPlay—a task you’ve made your own since marking your permanence in his passenger seat. 

A slow reverb plays as the accompaniment to your silence, and the song is familiar, one he knows full well exists in some of your vaguely named mood playlists. 

“Sometimes you just want to feel something, y’know?”

And Megumi thinks that’s all fine and good; Kugisaki’s called him ‘moody’ more than a few times. But he watches you now and he can’t even tell what you’re feeling exactly, just that you don’t feel okay.

He hears you take in a breath. 

In the years you’ve known each other, Megumi’s learned that you tell him most things, but only when you’re ready. It’s not a problem with him, it’s just your way of processing things—is how you explained it. 

Still, something about the way you’d gradually curled in on yourself and avoided most of the night’s conversations makes him feel worried. It gives him the sinking feeling that if he doesn’t ask about it now, you’ll let tonight play out like nothing’s wrong; you’ll sweep it under the rug and when he asks about it next time, you’ll dust it off like it never happened to begin with. 

Then he’ll never know.

And, that doesn’t sit well with him at all. 

His eyes glance over at the directions on his CarPlay. The breath he takes is crucial, inhaled with contemplation before it’s released with his decision. 

At the end of the song’s chorus, right before it changes key for the bridge, Megumi takes a detour. His palm lays flat on the wheel as he turns it to the left abruptly. An excuse waits at the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out for when you say—

“I think we were supposed to go straight…” your voice trails off, equal parts unsure and fragile. 

“Gojo-sensei wants me to check out a property,” he lies, straight through his teeth. It doesn’t sound too far off from a real possibility. 

“Oh,” you mumble, more resigned than usual as your fingers reach for the screen. “Do you want me to pin it?” 

“No need,” he pauses, eyes momentarily flitting over to your hand. 

The thought simmers for only a second before he reaches for your fingers with his own, interlacing them together and stroking your knuckles with his thumb; back and forth, gently.

It’s a habit he’s developed in well over the year that you’ve been together; a grounding sign of his affection that no longer flusters him as much as it used to. It means many things, but he hopes you can tell what he’s trying to say right now—

“I want you to tell me what you’re thinking,” as he rests your interlaced hands on your thigh.

The warmth on your lap causes you to look up, your lips curling up into a tight smile. 

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. 

Maybe you think it does the job, but Megumi knows you; he knows how you breathe when you’re anxious, knows the way your eyelashes flutter when you’re on the brink of tears. He knows when your smile isn’t any bit genuine, when it fails to reach your eyes and you turn away quickly as if to hide that fact. 

He clasps your hands together and squeezes. 

You hold your breath, turning your head to watch the view: city buildings reverting back to trees. 

It runs down the side of the road in an endless stream, along with time, and the unease that settles in his stomach when you don’t respond to his squeeze with familiar grip. 

He looks on ahead. 

Megumi has no idea where the fuck he’s driving to; the directions on his CarPlay constantly reroute him back to your neighborhood, but he’s taking every wrong turn and crossing every road he isn’t supposed to just to buy some more time to stay in this ride with you. 

“This is that new artist you’ve been talking about lately, right?” he attempts.

You only hum. 

The car slows for a red on the stoplight ahead, and he tells himself he’ll give you this time and wait until it ends. If after this, you’re still quiet—

It turns green. 

—”Is everything okay?” he makes sure to look at you when he asks. 

When your eyes meet his, he can already tell what front you’re about to play up. It’s painful when he watches your face shift into something else, eyes forcibly widening as your smile pulls tightly at your cheeks.

“Yep! Why wouldn’t it be?” 

He hates it. 

How can you pretend to sound happy in front of him, of all people, too? 

He turns away, eyes focusing back on the road. Your hand remains clasped in his, still unmoving; Megumi doesn’t know you like this—you’ve only ever squeezed back just as tightly, if not more, holding onto him all the way home. 

The furrow between his brows deepens as his finger taps lightly on the wheel. Restless. 

He allows the silence to stretch on.

.

A few more minutes find him driving past missed turns and wrong roundabouts, the scenery around you transforming into empty fields of tall grass dimly lit by lampposts. The lights fade in and out on repeat, casting itself as hazy, muddled hues upon your face.

Megumi glances from time-to-time, catching your reflection on the window of his passenger seat. 

The expression on your face remains tight, pulled together in an effort to keep it together. And Megumi isn’t typically one to pry, nor is he the type to outright intervene with what others are going through—

But, he just wants you to tell him what’s wrong. 

The feeling scratches at him, a quiet torture as it turns him impatient. He can only grind his teeth. 

Your songs continue to play as he drives down empty roads, each one turning sadder than the last. And he wonders for a moment when it’ll end; if listening to these songs for long enough will make you feel any better—enough at least, for you to begin to open up. 

In the midst of his rumination, you move, angling yourself away from him ever so slightly as you reach up to run your fingers through your hair, microfleece sleeve brushing against your cheeks lightly. 

You don’t think he sees you, he’s sure, but he spots you on your reflection—

The window of his passenger seat is pitch black, already heavily tinted on its own, but exacerbated more by the darkness of the evening outside. It lends itself as the perfect blank slate to return any image that light casts upon it. Tonight, its subject happens to be you.

—with tears streaming down your face. 

And it makes his chest ache, heart sinking straight to his stomach. 

The breath you take is heartbreakingly still, a staggered inhale that is so careful and so considerate of the fact that you don’t want him to hear it hitch. Your lips are trembling, bitten down to keep in any sob that might spill out. 

Megumi hates this the most, he’s decided. 

He clenches his jaw. 

Just a few meters ahead is a clearing lit up by another lamppost. The road is vacant enough for him to pull the car over to the side, still leaving room for other cars to pass by. 

So he decides.

Pushing the hazard button and signaling to turn, Megumi slows the car down to a stop. You wipe at your face quickly when you notice, trying discreetly to fix yourself up before facing him. 

“Did something happen?”

Your sniffle slips. 

He doesn’t say anything, shifting the gear into park as he leans back on his seat. The leather squeaks under his movement, each noise amplified now that the car is completely still.

Megumi takes a deep breath.

“Nothing happened,” he starts, considering his next actions very carefully as he turns to face you. 

His fingers reach up slowly, gently wiping at the tips of your eyelashes; your tears glisten at its tips. 

Something in your expression shifts, the front you put up gradually turning into guilt. 

(He knows; he’s noticed you this entire night.) 

Time stops for Megumi in moments you never know: when you laugh, and your cheeks lift life to your eyes; when you hold him, by hand or by heart—he can’t tell the difference sometimes; when you tell him you love him, whether whispered against his collarbone or spoken through your lips locked in his.

You look pretty in all of them, you always do; even now, drowning in the fabric of his clothes with strands of your hair kissing your nose. 

It’s enough to already make his chest hurt. 

But then your tears begin to spill over, rushing down in streams over your cheeks, and he can’t put a name to this feeling—this immense pressure that sinks down to his stomach, twisting and aching. It’s worse than what he felt moments ago. 

His thumbs press themselves to the dampness under your eyes, wiping away where he can as he cradles the rest of your face. 

Megumi is the last person anyone would ever call to handle tears, but his body moves on its own when it leans towards you. It feels natural, right, when his lips rest softly against your forehead, fingers slotting themselves around your ears. 

Your hands hold onto his wrists firmly, as if grounding yourself. 

“Please tell me what’s wrong.” 

He adjusts himself, quickly releasing his seatbelt to lean over the center console. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, and—

(It’s hard, you want to tell him. Nothing ever seems enough sometimes.) 

You tuck your face in the crook of his neck, your arms hooking themselves around his back and onto his shoulders. 

“Did I–” he starts, unsure, as he brings a hand up to cradle the back of your head, “Is it it me?” 

You shake your head. 

(Of course, it isn’t. How can it be?)

“I don’t know what to do, Megumi,” you mumble, choked up as you inch away from him to rub at your eyes. 

He waits for you to continue.

“We just graduated,” your fingers grip at your pants, “I should be happy, and I am, but,” you hiccup, “everyone has all these plans and big dreams and,” a deep breath, “I don’t even know what I want to do.” 

(Your tears soak through your speech, punctuating them in drenched uncertainty.

Everything throbs, a heavy thumping beating in your head. The only thing that cuts through is the familiar ‘click’ of the door unlocking, Megumi’s hand on the handle as you turn towards him curiously.) 

“Let’s step outside,” he directs, his door already half-open. 

When you move to follow suit, he turns off the engine before stepping outside.

The crisp air of spring is sharper in the evening, littering goosebumps down the sides of his arms. A breeze picks up and brushes against his ears, but being near you, in any capacity, has always been enough to make his insides feel warm. 

He circles around the front of the car to get to your side, pausing a few steps in front of you, as if asking for permission. 

You take a step and then another, tears welling up as you inch closer for a hug. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, voice small as you slack in his hold. He tucks you under his chin, hand cradling the back of your head again. “I always thought I’d figure it out eventually,” you continue, “but we’re here and I haven’t, and…” 

Your grip on him tightens.

“Did anyone trigger this earlier?” he asks softly, his finger rubbing against the nape of your neck. 

(That’s the problem, though—there isn’t anyone in particular. You know Megumi is asking so he can steer you clear of any future interactions with said person, but that’s not the case; it’s all you and the things you’ve overheard. All you and the things you see on your social media feed—an insecurity that drowns out anything else around you. 

People often mean well when they ask what you’re up to, but your response always leaves a bitter, acrid aftertaste when you feel like you can never give them an honest answer.) 

You shake your head, digging your face deeper into his neck. Your lips tickle his skin when you speak, “Just overheard stuff.”

Megumi sighs, holding you closer. 

He blinks once, taking in the clear open fields and the endless road ahead. Up above, stars splatter white against the sky, and if he listens closely, he’ll hear the faintest hiss of the springtime breeze. 

“It’s all just… noise,” he mumbles, lips pressing on the crown of your head. “You always tell me…” in the depths of his mind he fishes for a memory as proof,  “everything else is just noise when you have me and good music with you.” 

He feels shy recounting it word-by-word, heat rising to his cheeks; but Megumi has never been good at comfort, and this is his honest attempt at that. 

You chuckle sadly, a little watery as you reply, “It’ll just be me and the music when you leave though.” 

And even though this is your honest attempt at taking the situation lightly, the statement hits him square in the chest with its gravity.  

He hums and chooses to linger with you in the quiet, the occasional wisps of wind whizzing in the background. 

There’s not a lot Megumi can say that’ll make any of his statements valid, because all his plans have been laid out since his third year in uni: work his way through his course (which he did, in flying colors, actually), bag an internship (which he also did, for an extended contract too), and eventually land a job offer (which he also just did, a few days ago for a company in Kyoto). 

But, there is one thing he knows he can say with utmost certainty:  

“We’ll figure it out together.” 

Your head whips up quickly, brows furrowing as you give him a look. 

(If it’s what you think he’s implying, you won’t allow it. He has to—)

“...’ll still go. You’ll kill me if I don’t.” he huffs, leaning back to get a better look at you.

You look confused. 

(Megumi staying behind in Tokyo isn’t even an option for you; not when he has an attractive offer waiting for him in Kyoto, and most especially not when the only reason he’d be staying is because of you.

You’d been the one who encouraged him to apply and you promised yourself that you’d continue to support him all the way through. The fact that he’s leaving is sad, but you’ll never forgive yourself if you end up being the reason he’s held back from something so good.)

“I’ll visit,” he tucks your hair behind your ear, “or you can stay with me whenever you want while we figure something out for you.” 

“You can lean on me.” 

(His eyes meet yours sincerely, deep blue speckled with street-lit hues. It’s honest, and he only means to reassure you, but something inside you is saying—)

“You’re not… you’re not a failure, or a disappointment, or whatever, just because you’re having a hard time figuring it out by yourself.” he continues to speak, finding the right words as his hands fall down to press on your waist. “It’s why I’m here.” 

(—you should still feel bad. Your life is your responsibility, and Megumi shouldn’t be the one holding onto all the pieces when you’re struggling to get it together. And yet—)

When you open your mouth to rebut, Megumi, somehow, already knows what you’re about to say. 

“It’s not baggage, and even if you insist it is,” he pauses, as if working a way to verbalize how he feels. His eyes hold yours in this moment, tears welling up along your lash line; there is a weight to what he’s about to reveal. 

He takes a breath, swallowing. 

“I want to take it on with you.” 

Your tears fall and Megumi catches them, his thumbs gently pressing against your cheeks. 

(There are a lot more thoughts racing through your mind, but for now you focus on the peace he offers you. Megumi is rarely verbal with his feelings, so hearing him be so open like this means more to you than anything.)

“Okay,” you rest your forehead against his collarbone. 

Megumi pulls you closer as you both stand by his car, his arms a steady stronghold that grounds you. He gives you a few more moments of quiet until he feels ready to ask, “Are you ready to head home?”

You lift your face from his chest, eyes puffed up and a little dry. Your hand searches for his, interlacing your fingers together when you find it resting against the small of your back. 

“Can we drive for a little bit longer?”

He nods and his lips curl up into a smile, small and knowing as he opens the car door. 

But before you go back in, his hands take hold of yours, rubbing them gently to heat them from the cold. He brings your fingertips up to his lips, the display of affection rendering him pink, still (to you, the look on his face never gets old); he kisses them lightly before he lets go, walking to his side of the car so he can stay on this drive for as long as you’d like, until you’re ready to go home. 

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! thank you so much for reading 🥺 writing this was deeply personal, and writing megs will always be one of my favourite things 🥺

thank you notes: @pastelle-rabbit for thinking about drive megs with me and sending me songs! 🥺 + @ceroseis @mieiri for everything always 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[megumismyhusband]

megumi has seen you a thousand times before. he knows your face like the back of his hand, could probably pick you out of a crowd with his eyes closed. so why does he feel like he’s seeing you for the first time right now?

you’re just getting ready, nothing crazy, just fixing your dress, smoothing out the fabric, adjusting your makeup in the mirror. and somehow, it’s enough to floor him.

he doesn’t even realize he’s staring until you catch his reflection in the mirror.

“what?” you ask, a little amused.

megumi blinks, like he’s snapping out of a trance. he opens his mouth, then closes it, then finally manages, “nothing. you just…” he exhales a little, almost in disbelief. “you look really nice.”

which is such an understatement, because in reality, he’s completely mesmerized. he doesn’t even know how to describe it. it’s not just the dress or the makeup—it’s you. it’s the way your eyes shine when you smile, the way you move so effortlessly, like you belong in every beautiful place in the world. 

which is the dumbest way to put it, because what he really means is that you look unreal. breathtaking. like if he stared too long, he might forget how to breathe.

but he doesn’t say all that, because he’s megumi, and he’s bad at this. so instead, he just looks away, shoves his hands in his pockets, and hopes you don’t notice the way his heart is absolutely losing its mind.

maybe he’s being ridiculous, but for a second, he feels like the luckiest person alive just getting to stand next to you.

[uzurakis]

brainrotting so hard rn thinking of megumi who absolutely refuses to admit his feelings for his best friend but okay so hear me out shikigamis are often reflections of their owner, right?

his shikigami – his demon dogs, nue, escape rabbit etc etc are ALL attached to reader, constantly begging for their attention and being so protective towards reader whenever he brings them out. and reader can't help but feel loved and safe whenever they're around.

because the affection his shikigami has for you is a reflection of megumi's feelings for you <3

n. THIS IS SOOO GOOD and i just HAD to make a drabble out of it. i also feel megs will sometimes be jealous but.. hey.. isn’t that just an extension of HIMSELF? thank you nonnie cause i had fun brainrotting this wit chu <3

under the dappled shade of a tree, you and your bestfriend sat nestled amidst nature's embrace. the gentle rustle of leaves provided a soothing soundtrack to the lazy hour after school as the cool breeze swayed in between. you leaned against the sturdy trunk, the rough bark a comforting support against your back, whilst fushiguro reclined nearby, never not a book on hand, his presence a familiar comfort in the tranquil surroundings. he looked too focused, way too focused right now.

“fushiguro,” you called out whilst biting back a smile, holding up your index finger in a playful gesture. “one favor.”

“no.” came his immediate response, closing off any opportunities as he remain engrossed in his book.

it was a usual thing for you to do, pester him for fun with many favors. you knew that despite his protests, he would always give in to your whims. it was one of the things you adore about him actually, the lengths he’d go to make you feel better.

undeterred, you continued, pouting slightly. "but fushiguroo..."

“no.” he repeated firmly. “your one favor usually turns into a two favor, and a three—“

“i promise it’s only a favor this time!”

a wind brushed his black locks as he peered up from his book, letting out a slight forced sigh as he finally locked his eyes with yours. “just one favor.” he conceded, unable to resist your asks.

the smile of yours finally burst out, and the favor rolled off of your tongue. it was simple this time; you didn't have to use your pleading looks or other tricks to get him agreeing.

“can you summon some of your shikigamis? just wanna play with them.”

fushiguro's expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his initial resistance. he closed his book gently and set it aside, his attention fully on you now.

"alright," he relented, his tone warmer now. "i can do that, only for a short while."

you nodded eagerly, grateful for his concession. fushiguro had a way of understanding your needs even when you were being particularly bothersome. so you wasted no time in joining in the play, laughing and running around with his divine dogs. fushiguro watched with a fondness in his eyes, silently grateful for moments like these.

well, he too had other ideas. he certainly seems to have a knack for stirring up trouble and was definitely intentional. while you were distracted by the dogs swarming about you, he summoned an army of his rabbits—a large number of them—and they all jumped at you at once.

“do you want me to get killed from your rabbits?!” the shout was muffled as his rabbits covered quite every inch of your body. “did you tell them to come at me?!”

no, your bestfriend never ask his shikigamis to come at you the moment he summoned them. fushiguro megumi's shikigamis, his loyal companions, had a mind of their own. he never trained the dogs to nozzle around you, the rabbits to bounce over you, or nue to sit on your shoulder. for that they didn't heed the conventional rules of summoning or obedience; instead, they acted on their instincts, driven by an unspoken directive to protect and be close at all times—fushiguro megumi’s instincts to protect you and be close at all times.

“dunno,” picking up where he left off and submerging back to his pages. “maybe.”

“you’re such a prick!” the words burst forth as you try to get the rabbits off of you.

he watched you from a distance, his heart swelling with affection as you kept playing around with his shikigamis. but he still tried to held back his own smile, a silent observer in the background, content to bask in the warmth of your presence.

yet, as if on cue, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, he could not hide it any longer.

@uzurakis — requests are open! <3

[satocidal]

˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ Game Night|| Toji Fushiguro x Reader

word count: 0.8k warnings: not proof read, no specification of any game because... yeah

Seated right beside each other, eyes stuck to the game, Toji's fingers grasped around the beer can and your toddler's on his pacifier while you prepared dinner.

"What's the score?" you called, half-hearted, you never had the mind for these little premium leagues anyway, but since two-thirds of your house was occupied with the same, might as well.

"It's a shit show is what," Toji grumbled, a slow sip and a scoff - you chuckled to yourself, all the confirmation you needed that it’d be to babies you’d have to deal with tonight.

Your hand worked fast, the curry tasted well - you’d made your favourite, plates were ready and your son’s plate was also ready - all ready to be served.

“Toji food’s ready! Can you-”

“Wait c’mere, it’s getting good,” he’d called so fast, you almost weren’t sure, you were about to call out again when -

“Mamaaaa,” your son’s voice called - giddy in contrast, you could practically hear the smile in his voice as he called for you, enough for you to turn the heat off your gas and meet the two in your living room.

“Hi sweetie,” you cooed - only to be greeted by an entirely different scene when you stepped in, Toji now sat with a scowl and your son’s smile had vanished too, replaced by a pout, the closest he could get to the nasty expression your husband held.

“What happened?” you murmured, hands reaching out to hold your son - a whine elicited from him immediately, head whipped back towards the TV as you tried to kiss his face.

Toji was influential.

“What happened is that these newbies can’t do shit - just wanna bag in their damn money, ain’t no one cares about the game and- fuck yeah! That’s my man!”

Your eyes widened, not because the exact man Toji was hating on had scored just now and instantly Toji’s words had done a 180, and not just his language - you made sure to smack his arm regardless, not that he cared at the moment - but also because just a second after Toji’s shout, your son too had let out a “yeahhhhh!”

A giggle escaped you as you kissed the top of your son’s head, finding it way too cute, “yeah? You wanna celebrate like daddy?” your smile was so wide, for a second Toji too turned to see and then a smirk of his own, “you give him all the attention,” he murmured, hand slowly inching towards your waist.

“What’d you expect?” you mocked, and rested your head on Toji’s shoulder - “i can only focus on one cute thing at a time,” you smiled, both of them were so focused, you weren’t even sure if your son grasped what the game even ever was about.

Toji scoffed as he kissed your forehead, “ain’t cute or nothin’ - call me hot, like i am,” you offered just a single eye roll, and decided to close your eyes while the two continued their little game night.

You only got through about five minutes anyway, before Toji muttered a little - “oi, don’t sleep. Watch the game, they were playing okay when you came in, they’ll lose if you don’t,”

You sighed deeply - wasn’t a first that Toji and his little superstitions had kicked in, often you’d had to hold by our toilet run for the sake of his satisfaction from the game.

And if you didn’t? That simply ensued a huge tantrum.

But this time, it wasn’t just Toji ruining your rest, your son too was tugging lightly at your finger to get your focus on the game.

You were about to say something back to him - just a little retort, when his hand shot out - a loud groan uttered as he fell back against the cushions.

“Fuck!”

not that you were very interested but the shot they were highlighting on the screen was a clear indicator that Toji’s team had lost, you let an amused exhale out - and right on cue your your son shouted too, but his was an excited one, similar to the previous reaction.

You giggled at the way his head snapped to check in if his reaction was okay - which it wasn’t - and he seemed to have picked that up quick enough because instantly he let out a roan, hand now holding his head the same way Toji was.

You could only laugh while Toji shook his head  in disbelief - and apparently, so did your son.

“Toji you see? He’s mimicking you,” you poked his arm while he scoffed - “mimicking? Fuck off, he’s two timing my team, wanted it to lose,” You laughed harder as Toji accused, watching as your son’s face grew pale at his father’s words.

But they held no bite - Toji had already reached out and lifted him in his arms, despite the loss, which otherwise he’d have created a fuss about, Toji only grinned, “You’re forgiven - little attention sucker,”

Now, you gasped and poked him again, “Toji! He’s clearly repeating you, stop saying that,”

“But He’s from the rival team babe.”

All of this work is original and entirely my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[kenm4vhs]

like father like son

[sushiyuzu]

warning: toji smut. minors dni!

my backup acc: @sushibelle

you stood in front of the full-length mirror, feeling the smooth silk of the red lingerie clinging to your skin. the deep crimson lace hugged every curve, leaving little to the imagination, with the sheer fabric revealing just enough to be teasing, tempting, exactly what he wanted. your heart raced in your chest as you admired yourself, knowing this was all for him—because he’d made it very clear.

“put it on,” toji had growled earlier, his dark eyes smoldering as he handed you the bag from the lingerie store. “i want to see you in this tonight. no exceptions.”

now, as you stood in his bedroom, the lights dimmed just enough to cast a sensual glow, you felt the anticipation build with every passing second. the sound of the door creaking open made your pulse quicken, and you saw his reflection in the mirror as he stepped inside. his gaze immediately raked over you, hungry, possessive, taking in the sight of you in the lingerie he’d chosen.

“look at you,” he muttered, his voice low and filled with dark satisfaction. “you look even better than i imagined.”

before you could respond, toji’s hands were on you, grabbing your hips roughly as he pressed his body against your back. his lips brushed against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

“turn around,” he ordered, and you did as he commanded, spinning to face him, your heart racing under his intense gaze. “hands behind your back.”

your breath hitched as you followed his orders, placing your hands behind you, knowing what was coming next. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a length of black rope, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly began to bind your wrists together. the feel of the rough rope against your skin made you tremble, the helplessness only heightening the anticipation coursing through your body.

“you’re mine tonight,” he growled, his lips brushing against the side of your neck as he finished tying the knots. “i’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

before you could catch your breath, toji grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze up to meet his. his eyes were dark, filled with a mix of lust and something far more primal, something that made your body ache with need.

“on the bed,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for hesitation.

you stumbled toward the bed, your wrists bound behind you, making you even more vulnerable. toji’s hands were on you the moment you reached the edge of the mattress, pushing you down onto your knees as he stood behind you, his large hands gripping your hips.

“spread your legs,” he ordered, and your body obeyed, your knees parting as you knelt on the soft mattress, your back arching slightly as you felt the heat of his body behind you.

“fuck, you look so good tied up for me,” he growled, his hand sliding over your ass before giving it a rough slap that made you gasp, the sharp sting sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. “such a perfect little slut.”

his hands grabbed the thin straps of your lingerie, yanking them down your shoulders until your breasts were bared to him. without a second thought, he grabbed them roughly, his fingers pinching and twisting your nipples, making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

“you like that, don’t you?” he smirked, his hands continuing to tease and torment your breasts as he pressed his body against yours from behind. “you love it when i’m rough with you.”

“y-yes,” you whimpered, your body trembling under his touch, your nipples aching as he pinched them harder, his teeth grazing the back of your neck.

“good,” he growled, one hand sliding down to your ass, giving it another sharp slap that had you moaning. “because i’m just getting started.”

he shoved you forward, your chest hitting the mattress as your ass stayed raised in the air, completely exposed to him. his hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he positioned himself behind you, his breath hot against the back of your neck as he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance.

“you ready for me?” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “ready to take every fucking inch of me?”

“yes,” you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation as he teased you, sliding his cock along your wetness without entering you just yet.

“beg for it,” he demanded, spanking you again, harder this time. “tell me how much you want it.”

“p-please, toji,” you whimpered, pushing your hips back against him, desperate for him to fill you. “i need you… i need your cock… please…”

“that’s more like it,” he growled, and with one rough thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock stretching you wide as he filled you completely. the sensation was overwhelming, the fullness leaving you breathless as he held himself deep inside you for a moment, letting you feel every inch of him.

he didn’t give you time to adjust. his hands tightened their grip on your hips as he began to move, his thrusts hard and fast, each one slamming into you with a force that made your body jolt with every impact.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice rough as he pounded into you relentlessly. “so tight… so fucking perfect for me.”

you moaned, your body trembling as his cock hit all the right spots, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. but toji wasn’t done with you yet. his hand slid down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in slow, torturous circles that made your entire body shudder with pleasure.

“you like that, don’t you?” he muttered, his fingers teasing your clit as he continued to fuck you from behind. “like it when i play with this little pussy while i fuck you?”

“y-yes,” you gasped, your back arching as the pleasure built higher and higher, the combination of his cock and his fingers driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“come for me,” he growled, spanking you again, his other hand grabbing your breast, pinching your nipple hard as he thrust into you even faster. “come all over my cock.”

his words sent you tumbling over the edge, your body convulsing as your orgasm crashed through you, your walls clenching around him as he fucked you through it, his cock pounding into you relentlessly.

but he wasn’t finished. not yet.

before you could catch your breath, toji pulled out of you, flipping you onto your back with a rough yank of the ropes binding your wrists. he climbed on top of you, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread your legs wide, his cock teasing your entrance once more.

“i’m not done with you yet,” he muttered, his eyes burning with lust as he leaned down, his mouth capturing your nipple in a rough, heated kiss. his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, making you gasp as he bit down just hard enough to send a jolt of pain mixed with pleasure straight through you.

“toji…” you whimpered, your body trembling as he positioned himself at your entrance again, teasing you with slow, shallow thrusts.

“beg for it again,” he growled, his lips brushing against your nipple as his fingers reached down to rub your clit once more. “beg me to fuck you.”

“p-please… fuck me… i need you… i need you so bad,” you gasped, your hips lifting off the bed, desperate for him to fill you again.

“good girl,” he smirked, and with one rough thrust, he slammed into you again, his cock stretching you wide as he took you hard and fast, his hands gripping your hips as he fucked you with a possessive intensity that left you breathless.

the sound of your moans and his low growls filled the room as he took you over and over, each thrust harder than the last, each slap of his hand against your ass or your breasts sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“you’re mine,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear as he thrust into you, his fingers teasing your clit until you were on the brink of another orgasm. “all fucking mine.”