fluff and a little suggestive - baby!gumi asking you and dad!toji for a sibling
you’re in the kitchen when it happens.
toji’s busy making coffee. his black hair still damp from his quick shower. shirtless because he’s supposedly allergic to clothes when he’s home. gumi is wobbling around on chubby legs with his little dinosaur toy clutched in one hand and milk dribbled down his chin.
you’re just trying to clean up after breakfast. gumi threw his congee all over the floor, because ‘fwoggie told him to’.
megumi climbs onto his little stool next to where you're trying to scrub the floor clean. plants both hands on the table. looks up at you with his big sleepy eyes and casually says, “mamamamama. i wan’ baby.”
you blink. “…baby what, sweetheart?”
megumi nods solemnly, as if he's prepared for this conversation and planned exactly what to say.
“baby brudder. or… baby sissie.”
you freeze. you slowly turn to look at toji.
he’s frozen too. mid-sip of coffee with his stupid pinky in the air. eyes wide over the rim of his mug.
“what.”
megumi points a chubby finger at you. then at toji. then pats his own pudgy belly.
“mama make baby.”
you make a garbled choking sound. there's silence for 3 beats while you're trying to comprehend what your child just said to you.
then, toji sets his mug down with exaggerated care.
smirking.
“wellllllllll, i mean, you heard the kid.”
“nope. no. absolutely not. no way.”
“oh come on,” he grins, ruffling megumi’s hair. “our first try went great. look at him. little plump gumi. 10/10. cutest kid in the whole world. clearly, we make good ones.”
you wipe your hands on a tea towel and shoot him a glare. “you probably put him up to this.”
“I wish i did. this is gold.” he crouches to eye-level with megumi. “hey, champ. wanna help me convince mama for new baby?”
megumi nods, then starts chanting, “baaaaby~ baaaby~” while patting your stomach with his sticky fingers.
you groan and try your hardest not to fall for your son and husband's efforts.
toji stands and kisses your cheek. “he’s right, y’know. you’d look hot pregnant again.”
you swat him. “you’re insufferable. and annoying. and an idiot.”
he leans down to murmur in your ear. “aren’t you meant to be ovulating soon? prime time, i reckon. what was that you said last time? text-book conditions?”
you blush immediately.
“i hate you.”
he grins, then kisses your neck and murmurs. “we should start practicing tonight. real diligently. you wouldn’t want to disappoint your beloved gumi, would you?”
megumi’s still chanting in the background, now shaking his toy dinosaur like a tambourine.
and you hate that there is a tiny, traitorous part of you that is already considering new baby names...
NOTE: I’m so down bad for this man 😋 just gimme one day alone with him fr. This is just something short lol lmk if you guys want more details of our lovely couple.
The first thing everyone in town noticed after Sukuna got married was that he smiled now.
Not the usual crooked, sharp grin he used when bargaining with suppliers or scaring off competitors. It morphed into something warmer, into something only a loving husband could have. A quiet curl of his lips that only really showed itself when you were nearby, tucked into the crook of his arm or trailing behind him in the marketplace with a basket hooked over your elbow.
Ryomen Sukuna had always been a big man—broad shoulders carved from years of hauling crates, forearms corded with muscle from tilling soil and hauling irrigation pipes under the summer sun. Ever since boyhood all he’s known is the growing ache of his muscles. His presence alone could silence a rowdy bar. Kids used to scatter when they saw him walking down the road.
Now they stared instead, whispering and giggling as he slowed his long strides just to match yours.
“You don’t need to carry that,” he muttered one afternoon, already reaching for the basket of fresh peaches you’d insisted on holding.
“I can carry fruit, Sukuna,” you huffed, trying to keep your grip. “I’m not made of glass.”
He pried the basket from your hands anyway, fingers brushing your knuckles. The moment your skin touched, his ears went faintly pink, and he cleared his throat, suddenly fascinated by a cloud in the distance.
“Please hun.” he whispered. With his silent plea, how could you not relent the basket to him
The shopkeeper behind the stall snorted.
“Honeymoon phase’s hitting you hard, Sukuna.”
Sukuna glared, but his hand slipped around yours as you walked away, calloused thumb rubbing slow circles into your palm.
–
Back at the farm, the air smelled of the familiar scent of the warm earth and ripening tomatoes. Rows of green stretched as far as you could see, leaves fluttering lazily in the breeze. Sukuna’s land was the pride of the region, everyone knew his produce was the best, plumper and sweeter than anything grown in neighboring towns. Restaurants fought over his deliveries, and caterers practically begged for his strawberries and herbs whenever it was in season.
He never bragged about it, the demand just seemed to make him work harder.
Especially now.
You found him in the fields most mornings before sunrise, white shirt already damp with sweat, muscles flexing as he hoisted crates onto the back of his truck. The first time you’d come out in your sleep set, wearing your fuzzy slipper, rubbing your eyes and offering him a thermos of tea, he’d nearly dropped a box of cucumbers on his foot.
“You shouldn’t be out here hun,” he’d grumbled, eyes refusing to meet the bare stretch of your legs. “You’ll catch a chill.” His arms wrap around your waist while his other hand wipes his forehead with the towel around his shoulder.
“It’s summer,” you laughed, pressing the thermos into his hands. “And I wanted to see you before you left.”
He’d stared at you like you’d just confessed something life-changing, then reached out awkwardly, thumb brushing the inside of your wrist.
You’d barely grazed his skin.
He’d gone still completely, utterly still before melting like butter in the sun, shoulders relaxing, expression softening in a way you were starting to realize only you ever saw.
–
By midsummer, your quiet farm had become lively in a way it never had before.
Toji Fushiguro, your closest neighbor, had taken to dropping by in the evenings with his wife and their three-year-old son, Megumi. Toji was one of the few men who’d never been intimidated by Sukuna; he leaned against your porch railing like he owned the place, sipping beer and smirking while the two of them argued over crop prices and weather forecasts.
Megumi toddled after you constantly, small fingers clinging to the hem of your dress.
“‘Kuna’s scary,” he whispered once, peeking around your leg as Sukuna stomped in from the fields, boots caked with dirt.
Sukuna froze mid-step, clearly having heard him.
You crouched, gently guiding Megumi’s little hand toward Sukuna’s.
“He’s only scary to people who steal his pumpkins.”
Megumi blinked up at Sukuna, then pressed his tiny palm against Sukuna’s huge one.
Sukuna’s entire face went blank, completely unreadable. Then, slowly, carefully, he closed his fingers just enough to hold the child’s hand without crushing it.
Toji nearly choked on his drink laughing.
–
The real chaos arrived when his nephews came to stay for the summer.
Yuji burst through the front door like a hurricane, all sunshine smiles and loud greetings, immediately hugging you. Choso followed behind, a quieter boy but equally affectionate, offering to help with anything around the house or fields.
Within days, the farm was filled with shouting, running feet, and the sound of boys arguing over who got the last slice of watermelon.
You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart ache a little, in a wonderful way.
One afternoon, you stood on the porch watching Yuji chase Megumi through the yard while Choso set up a crooked sprinkler that sprayed water in uneven arcs. Their laughter carried across the fields, bright and infectious.
Sukuna stepped up behind you, a glass of cold lemonade in his hand. His shadow swallowed yours where it fell across the wooden boards.
“You’re staring too much,” he said gruffly, offering you the drink.
“They’re cute,” you replied, resting your shoulder against his arm. “Your family is so loud.”
“They’re pests,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to it.
You watched Yuji scoop Megumi up, spinning him until both of them collapsed into the grass, giggling.
“…It feels nice, though,” you added softly.
Sukuna went quiet.
His fingers twitched at his side, then lifted, hesitating before settling on your lower back. The touch was careful, almost shy, for someone who could lift a hay bale like it weighed nothing.
“…You want one?” he asked suddenly, voice rougher than usual.
You blinked, turning your head to look at him. “One what?”
He gestured vaguely with his nose towards the yard, ears turning red.
“A kid. One of our own.”
Your heart skipped.
You hadn’t expected him to say it so bluntly, but this was Sukuna after all, a man who struggled to say “I love you” without looking like he’d swallowed a rock.
“You’d be a scary dad,” you teased gently.
He scoffed. “I’d be a great dad.”
“You’d intimidate their friends. Goodness knows what you’d do if we ever have a baby girl”
“They shouldn’t be weak enough to get scared by a glare.”
You laughed, and the sound seemed to soften something in his chest. His arm slid around your waist more confidently now, pulling you closer until your back pressed against his front.
“…If you want one,” he repeated more quietly, lips near your ear, “we can try, it’s not like we already aren’t.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks.
Down in the yard, Yuji shouted as the sprinkler tipped over and soaked him entirely, Megumi squealing in delight, his earlier efforts of trying to not wet his new shorts forgotten. Choso groaned and chased after them with a towel.
You leaned back into Sukuna, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
“…Maybe we should,” you murmured.
Sukuna’s breath hitched.
The toughest farmer in three counties, feared by suppliers and admired by chefs, nearly dropped the sweating glass of lemonade in his hand.
Then he buried his face in your hair, arms tightening around you like you were something fragile and precious and entirely his.
“Good,” he muttered, voice thick. “Real good.”
And out in the fields, under the wide summer sky, the crops swayed gently in the breeze, fat and thriving, just like everything Sukuna had built for the life the two of you were growing together, and soon the big house will feel much smaller with more bodies.
Parent-teacher day was supposed to be harmless with the Fushiguro's!
That was the promise you made yourself when you agreed to come along. Just sit in a classroom, hear about Megumi’s grades, maybe shake a hand or two—easy. Normal.
What you hadn’t accounted for was Toji insisting he had to come too.
“Someone’s gotta make sure the kid’s teachers know he’s got backup,” he’d said that morning, cracking his knuckles like parent-teacher meetings involved cage fighting. You’d laughed, thinking he was joking.
He wasn’t.
So now here you were, sitting in a little chair in Megumi’s classroom, knees practically up to your chest, while Toji sprawled beside you like he owned the place. Megumi sat stiffly on your other side, jaw tight, like if he ignored his father hard enough, maybe Toji would evaporate.
The teacher—a kind-looking man in glasses—flipped through Megumi’s file with a smile. “Well, I just want to start by saying, Megumi’s a very bright student. Always diligent, very polite.”
Your heart swelled. You reached over to squeeze Megumi’s hand, but he pulled it away instantly, ears turning red.
Before you could say anything, the teacher glanced at you, smiling. “And I must say, you’ve clearly raised him well.”
You opened your mouth to deflect politely, but you didn’t even get the chance.
Because Toji leaned forward, slid a heavy arm around your shoulders, and grinned like a cat.
“Yeah,” he drawled. “She’s pretty amazing, huh?”
The teacher blinked, startled. You blinked, mortified. Megumi groaned into his hand.
“Can you not?” he hissed at Toji, voice sharp.
“What?” Toji smirked, tugging you closer until you nearly slid out of your tiny chair. “I’m just agreeing with the man. He’s got good taste.”
“Unbelievable,” Megumi muttered, glaring at the floor.
The teacher, to his credit, valiantly attempted to steer the conversation back on track, but it was impossible to ignore the six-foot-something man practically marking his territory in the middle of the classroom.
When the teacher mentioned how well Megumi worked independently, Toji cut in with, “Yeah, gets that from her. Always taking charge.”
When the teacher praised Megumi’s focus, Toji added, “Guess that runs in the family. She’s got laser focus when it counts.”
By the third time Toji made it about you, Megumi snapped.
“This is about me, not you two,” he said, glaring at both of you. “Stop being gross.”
You almost choked on your laugh. “We’re not being gross—”
“Yes, you are,” Megumi deadpanned. “This is the worst day of my life.”
Toji, absolutely delighted, leaned back in his chair and stretched like a satisfied lion. “Kid’s just mad we’re cooler than him.”
That was when Megumi stood up, muttered “I’m leaving,” and walked straight out of the classroom.
You slapped Toji’s arm, glaring. “You couldn’t just behave for an hour?”
He shrugged, unbothered. “What? I was complimenting you.”
“You embarrassed him!”
“Nah.” Toji’s grin widened. “That’s just what being a teenager feels like.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands, while Toji sat there smug as ever. And when you finally went out into the hall to find Megumi sulking against the lockers, the only thing you could think was—next year, you were coming alone.
notes, my brain is rotting from thinking of how adorable they are!
Synopsis: You find yourself spiraling into a cycle of negative thoughts that take over you regarding Toji's past, as you have become convinced that the only reason Toji was able to move on is because he pictures you as the woman he lost.
to sum it up: you can't get the image of Toji's ex wife out of your head, which must mean that he can't either.
WC: 8,115
Warning(s): angst, mamaguro, reader is avoidant, mention of depression / anxiety / insecurity, grief and loss, mentions of death
You do not self sabotage.
Or... at least that is what you tell yourself when you are self sabotaging.
It's not your fault. You've been through a lot. You've experienced enough trauma and heartbreak on a repetitive cycle to convince yourself that you should run before things can go wrong, that things will sour at the mercy of your influence, that you are the common denominator for all the negativity within your world.
Despite how others have hurt you. Despite how it was other people who initially led you to think that way.
Your mind always twists it all back onto you.
And deep down, you know it. You that is exactly what you are doing when you are first plowed with that nauseating, neverending, persistent feeling that eats away at your heart and poisons your mind, the feeling that first makes you stop and think, obsess over your insecurities, and question whether you really are good enough.
You know when you feel envy strike, when a sickening sense of inferiority crowds you in the shadow of that woman's loss against your best efforts, against your wishes.
You know it when suddenly you think that Toji's kisses have gone colder, that his eyes have shifted into darkness when you are around, that his mind is elsewhere when he is physically with you. You know it when that air of breeziness falls, and the honeymoon period of feeling as though you are floating gives away. You come crashing back to the ground, back into the land of doubt, the land of fear, the land of inadequacy.
And you know it's you, and only you, because Toji has never given you any reason to second guess his motives or his true feelings within your relationship.
The man had been so guarded when you first met him. He shoved you away enough times for you to learn that when he eventually let his guard down, it is not because he does not take you seriously but because he does, painfully and scarily so. It tore him apart so much to finally reveal himself to you that your self destructive habits fell by the wayside, and true love overpowered - a desire to help him, to open his eyes to the world that he can and does deserve.
Toji has only ever loved you. He has only ever cherished you like you could vanish into thin air at any second, loving you as if every day he has you is his last, never, ever risking the chance of taking you for granted. How could he, when you've become everything to him after he had been so lost for so long? After you brought reason, light, joy, and hope back into his life?
You know Toji loves you. You feel it. You see it.
But the fears come back regardless, so natural to you, you're surprised that they had even left. A shift in tone, an unanswered text, a fleeting kiss are all enough to send the first trigger shooting through your brain.
Then comes a lingering gaze on an old family picture with his ex that Toji forgot he had swimming in the caverns of his camera roll, swiftly swiped past with a blink back to reality.
It's all enough to set your mind off, to provoke the voices that roar in your head that you are not loved, but rather, a mere replacement. A placeholder. An empty husk serving in the space where someone used to be, someone who would be there still if cruel life had not stripped her from this world.
You begin to subconsciously compare yourself to her at every chance your mind gets to torture you. You begin to stare longer at the family picture that still sits on Megumi's window sill, to trace the counters in a daze, wondering if it was her who picked the marble finish in the kitchen - as you know Toji is not the kind of man who pays such things attention. You fall silent as your mind rages, absolving you of your speech, and twisting it into a curse upon your subconscious.
You think. You think. And think until it physically aches to do so, but no matter how much it hurts, you can not stop it. You can not shut it out. You can not make your thoughts go away. They simply expand, grow worse by the day, and if the questions were not already bad, the guilt that swarms you is ten times worse.
How could you obsess so much over a dead woman? Someone who is not even alive anymore? Someone whom this household you have weasled your way into lingers in the unspoken, in the air, behind the corners you turn, in the whistle of a kettle, in the eyes of his son, in the spaces you fill?
Its not right to think of her in such a way. To tarnish her memory by selfishly clinging onto this image that you could never truly know, to disgrace Toji's grief and his devotion to you by swearing that he could only ever love her, that it is not you he loves but the projection of her that he has utilized you for.
It's insane. You know it is. But you can not help it. You've never loved someone like this, nor have you ever loved someone who had not become single on his own accord but by force, by fate. As you sink into comfort, your mind awakes in alert. Its faith and belief in the reality of things slip away, and you are stuck believing lies, believing that you are not good enough, believing that a ghost would serve better in your place.
You've seen the pictures of Megumi's mother. She was radiant and beautiful, effortlessly so. You see the same softness in Megumi's eyes that she once had, and you wonder what Toji thinks every time he looks at the boy, if he has to push down the ache that stems from their striking similarities.
You find yourself looking in the morning and picking at your face, frowning at the reflection that stares back at you. You don't have here wild, raven hair, her smooth, perfect skin. You don't have whatever effect she had that drew Toji to her in the first place, that made him fall so deeply in love that when she faded away, he lost all sense of purpose.
You aren''t her. You could never be her, and you wonder how Toji bears to look at you. How he turns to you and smiles when you know deep down what he really wants, who he really yearns for, who you decide he imagines you to be.
You lay awake at night as he snores in your ear, arms wrapped tightly around your middle, and you wonder if he ever held her the same way. With one leg kicked up over your hips, his hands clutching you tight to his chest.
You wonder every night... is he dreaming of her? Do you really even exist to him if he only thinks of you as another version of her?
The fake version? The temporary?
You don't know when the last time it was when you got a full night's rest. You spend your evenings curled in his arms, staring at the ceiling with dark shadows under your eyes, lips clamped tight. As the second you close your eyes, the voices shout and steal any hope of sleep from you.
He doesn't really love you. You know that right?
He's only sleeping so well because he's pretending its her instead of you.
How could you ever think that he would love you after losing such a woman?
How could you even begin to compete with her?
And after a while, after enough self deprecation, after enough sleepless nights, you begin to subconsciously distance yourself from Toji. Not physically, but mentally.
When he kisses you, lips meeting your cheek in greeting, you shrink into your mind, body stilling as though you are a deer in headlights, eyes sharp and wide, lips clamped. Your voice has gone quieter - no longer lively and engaging but monotonous, timid, and almost cautious. Like you're afraid to be in his house. Like you are apologetic for your own presence.
You slip into a depression quite easily, and you don’t even think that Fushiguros realize, as you’re so distracted by your own thoughts. Why would they notice after all? It’s not like you’re Toji’s wife, nor are you Megumi or Tsumiki’s mother. Your emotions would likely just prove a further burden to them. After all, they lost so much when Megumi’s mother passed. You would only be further adding to such stress.
Yet, despite how you spiral into a pit of isolation, they do notice. Almost immediately, actually. It would be difficult to have ignored it. You display such a swift, drastic decline from your ordinarily bright and positive nature. And it worries the kids. It worries Toji.
Badly.
At first, he thinks he’s done something wrong when he notices you freeze at the slightest tough. Perhpaps, as usual, he's screwed up. He's said something stupid without thinking to hurt your feelings. But ordinarily, when you're upset with him, you let him know immediately. You don't go quiet, but in fact, you get loud. You challenge him, and despite his stubborness, he is forced to look within and rethink his actions.
You help him be better in that way.
So he rethinks it, but can not for the life of him understand what has happened, what's gone wrong. Do you resent him now? Have you lost all feelings for him? Has he made you feel trapped?
When he asks, you won't say. You'll simply flash him a smile that does not reach your eyes and tell him that you're fine. Despite the painful softness of your voice when you do that seems to pierce Toji straight through the heart, further emphasizing your lie. Despite that dark circles that run under your eyes, insinuating that you no longer sleep soundly with him at night. Despite the weight that appears to be sinking into your body, pulling your eyeline to the ground, dragging at your feet.
It's killing Toji, whatever is wrong with you, and it takes him a while to think that you could possibly dealing with something deeper that he can not understand. Some underlying darkness, a depression, perhaps, that has snuck back into your life now that you have settled into a new routine, a new happiness.
He never believed in the kind of stuff before. Not even when he was experiencing it himself after his wife's death. When his life veered off track and he no longer knew who he was. When killing became the only thing he felt he could do right in this world.
He didn't even realize that was what depression felt like until, of course, you. Until you opened his eyes to how bad his life had been when you miraculously made it better.
He decides that depression is certainly the problem when he comes home more often to you already laying in bed or staring off into space, in some far off world in your mind, separate from reality. The only two questions that remain are what triggered such an abrupt episode, if anything, and how could he help you out of it?
Or... more so... could he help you?
Toji worries in silent, active ways. He asks more questions, though casually, subtly, and sporadically. He'll ask more details about your day when he gets home from work, he'll suggest grabbing take out if he notices the food in the fridge still untouched by you. He'll grip you tighter in his sleep, waiting to doze just to see how long you'll stay awake as you pretend to be asleep with your back pressed to his chest and his fingers tracing light circles in your abdomen.
You notice the mindless habit as something new, and begin to wonder if he's catching onto you.
His embraces are longer in the mornings, when he prepares to leave for a job. His hands linger on your skin as he makes his way to the door, his eyes catching you a number of times before the door closes and separates you, and you are left alone once more with your thoughts.
His kisses are softer, more tender, more cautious.
You can feel him growing wearier, more hesitant. And while this is due to Toji's uncertainty with how to approach you or make sure you're okay without further upsetting you, you only take his behavior as a further sign of his rejection of you. Of his true feelings finally showing.
It's yet another sleepless night at Toji's.
Despite your daily struggle to stomach being in this home, surrounded by so many memories of a woman you never met, you can't find the strength to go anywhere else. This is your home now, after all. You're a part of the family, of the house, of the life that should be hers, not yours. Though you want to leave with all your heart, she's keeping you here, the impossible standard, the first choice. You almost tell yourself that you deserve this feeling, that you would be a coward to run away from such harsh reality.
You have a blanket from the couch wrapped snug around your body, cocooning you as you shrug a lukewarm cup of coffee to your lips. The house is still, everyone but you asleep, and it took a significant amount of shuffling to manage to rise from the bed without waking your boyfriend. Though he's a deep sleeper, the second he feels you moving to even go to the bathroom, he's awake.
Hell, you're surprised you managed to get away this time. Maybe that's another sign of Toji's growing disconnect from you.
Your eyes sting when you blink. Your skin is cold despite the warmth that captures you, and your mind does not rest, so you give into the insomnia and trek across the floors that she once padded over with barefeet, wondering if yours are the same size, if you could somehow begin to fill those prints.
You feel as though you've internally begun to break up with Toji without trying. It feels like you're in a constant state of mourning, as though the man you love is not still right there before you - yours.
But how could he really be yours when he belongs to someone else?
You're so caught up in your thoughts that you do not feel Toji's presence at the corner. He does not make himself known, as his remarkable skills of stealth are put to use as to keep himself hidden from you until he decides to step into the light.
The dark haired man is quiet as he watches you, your back to him and your shoulders tense. When he surveys you more carefully, closer, he notices the tremble in your hands that sends tremors throughout the liquid in your mug.
Toji's eyes are half open, his hair is ruffled to hell, and his pants hang low on his hips as he stares at you. He woke the moment you moved out of bed, but waited to follow you to reduce suspicion. He wanted to know where you were running off to without alarming you further into isolation.
And now that he sees that you are just standing in his kitchen alone and motionless, he feels his chest tighten with something he can not name. He looks at you like you're a mirror, a reflection of his past self, and the notion only spirals him into further concern.
Toji always swears to protect you, to keep you and his kids safe from physical harm. It was the physical that took his first love away, and Toji refuses to let that happen again. Not with you. Not with the woman he intends to spend the rest of his life with.
He fears now, however, that he can not protect you from the mental dangers. The traumas, the internal voids, the voices in your head that ring without stop like an out of tune church bell.
The corners of Toji's lips tug downward and the side of his head knocks agains the wall. Why are you so unhappy? Is it him? Is he making you unhappy? Is he turning your relationship sour? How? Why? What can he do? Why does he feel so useless?
As if on its own, as if drawn to you, urged by a need to fix whatever is wrong, his body pushes himself away from the wall and inches forward mutely. He steps slowly into the space, closer to you. His brows are tugged together and there is a slight curl on his lips, one you mistake for disgust when you catch his shadow creeping up from out of the corner of your eye.
You startle, hastily setting your cup of coffee down on the counter as your eyes nervously catch the ivy hues that gaze down at you through the dimness. You turn to face him fully, leaning your hip against the counter as you instinctively pull your lips together in a halfhearted, tight line Toji thinks you'd call a smile.
"Toji," you say his name like you don't expect him to find you in his own home, like you're surprised that he would ever come after you. Which makes no sense to the assassin, who would jump from moving cars to get to you. "Hey, I'm sorry. I was trying to be quiet."
And you're apologizing. Again. Like your existence is a nuissance. Like you can't bear for your own boyfriend to perceive you in this light, or in any light for that matter.
It's tearing the man apart.
In a sleepy daze, Toji reachs a calloused hand out to your face once he settles a few feet before you. He's experimenting, testing the space and how much you allow between the two of you before you shrink away.
You hold Toji's gaze as his fingers graze your cheek, but it feels like you're staring through him rather than at him. Your eyes are empty. Cold. Exhausted.
The ivy eyed man tilts his head as he observes you quietly, sternly, and that's when you shift in the slightest. You switch weight on either foot, and your chin twitches down within a fraction of a second as his hand melts over your cheek and his gaze intensifies.
You feel him trying to pick you apart. What is it he's looking at? The flaws in your face? How strikingly different you are from his ex wife? Is he noticing up close now? How you'll never compare?
You expect some kind of insult to tumble from his lips every time he looks at you in such away. But you have become blind to the gentleness in his eyes when your vision greets him, soft and sweet. You no longer see the depths of love under layers of hardness, and the worry that so evidently swirls in his sharp irises that he attempts to stabilize with a blank expression.
You don't see anything but your own inadecuacy anymore.
So when his gravelly voice rasps out the obvious question: "Couldn't sleep?" you are even more confused, immediately searching for the hiding meaning in such an ordinary ask.
You take a moment to respond, like you've forgotten how to hold a conversation. You glance at the oven light and see that the time reads 3:32 am. Toji hates being up so late, especially when he has a big job in the morning.
Here you go, causing him even more problems. You're such a burden. You're sure his wife never would have posed him such inconvenience.
"Huh?"
You realize you've waited too long to say anything. You snap your eyes back to his like a deer in headlights and nod slowly. "Was just thirsty," you say.
He quirks a brow, eyes dragging down to your mug. "For the one thing that'll keep you up all night?"
You tug your blanket closer around your arms. "I just... didn't think I would be going to bed any time soon."
Something shifts in Toji's eyes as his hand falls from your face. He steps closer to you, watching your eyes dart between his feet and his face momentarily. Jesus, it's like you're afraid of him or something. You never have been before. So what's the problem now?
"Not going back to bed," he repeats your words, linking his pink finger around the mug handle and sliding it toward him. "Well, darlin', we both got work and the kids got school in a couple hours. I don't think y're getting away with another night of no sleep."
Toji abandons the cup to open his arms to you, bringing one arm around your shoulder to gently guide you to him. He feels your shoulder tense as you step into motion like a zombie, and he looks down at you out of the corner of his eye.
You don't look at him. You just stare.
The embony haired assassin stops, the two of you in the hall leading toward your shared bedroom. You blink in confusion and look up at your boyfriend as he steps out of your way, gesturing his arm forward for you to walk back in before him. You turn to look longingly back at the kitchen before trudging back into your room wordlessly, clinging tight to that blanket as Toji shuts the door behind you.
"(Y/n)," he calls your name, and you freeze in your tracks. Your nerves shock, your heart skips a beat, and you slowly turn over your shoulder, anxious, timid. God, it's so unlike you.
Toji leans against the door with a heavy exhale, watching you with that sharpness only a man trained to murder could withhold. He crosses his arms, frowning.
"You gonna tell me what's been goin' on with you or am I gonna have to get it out of you myself?"
You pale at the steadiness of his voice, the words that followed, and that dead serious look in your eye. You always imagined this moment, but could never prepare for it properly. Truthfully, you had no idea what to say. You're embarrassed. Vulnerable. Scared. Sad.
The very thought of even trying to tell him what's going on inside your mind chokes you up, for what the hell would he even say to you obsessing over his dead wife? What if he drops his facade of loving you and admits the truth? What if he sneers down at you, shaming you for all that you can not be for him and his kids? What if he leaves you?
You're paralyzed with horror, so uncertain of everything. Toji notices the way your body stiffens like some kind of defense mechanism, and it dawns on him that you are possibly shifting into fight or flight mode.
...How could he have let things get so bad?
He tilts his head, softening his voice into a mumble. "Doll?" your delicate nickname flutters from his tongue into the emptiness of your bedroom, and your heart aches. The nickname addresses you, but you hear its distant ring, its call to its rightful owner, its past life - sweet on someone else's ears before you.
His frown deepens as you shrink further into yourself without any words, but with just a particular look in your eye that makes Toji's bones ache.
He kicks himself up from the door and moves toward you. You take an involuntary step back, and he halts. As if burned.
You see that his face contort when he notices, and you curse yourself. He looks like you just threw fire at him.
"S-Sorry."
"Are you scared of me?"
The question settles into the air, raw with passion, a hiss, a torn whisper, and you hear your heart break. The spell around you shatters for a moment as Toji looks at you so perplexed, wounded in a way that he would only show you, plain in a veil of frustration.
You're shocked by it.
"What?"
"Don't act confused, like you haven't been jumping away any time I'm near you lately." The space between the two of you is thick in the air. You feel so far away, despite being closed within the same space. "Is it me? You don't like how I make you feel? Is that it?"
You know Toji so well. Even as his tone echoes monotonously and somewhat condescending, you can hear the underlying pain in those sentences.
"Are ya quiet because that's it? I'm right?"
"No," you finally say hastily. You see Toji's shoulders relax a bit, though his guard has gone up slightly from the sentiment. You can't believe that he would ever think something like that, that you could actually ever be scared of him. "Of course not, Toji. I could never be afraid of you. Do you hear what you're asking?"
And Toji hears the first semblances of passion in your voice after months of colorlessness, and despite the weight of the conversation topic, hope strikes - gentle and refrained.
"Hell, girl, you're not giving me much else to think," he admits. "It feels like you've been hating me lately."
"Why would I hate you, Toji?"
"You tell me. Y're pullin' away when I kiss you, you're flinching around me like I'm gonna break you, we haven't had sex in weeks -"
"I haven't been feeling well," you interject, not wanting to hear more about how you've been subconsciously treating him.
Toji presses his lips together, scar creasing. "I know. That's why I'm asking now what's wrong with you."
"...Because you want to have sex?"
"The fuck (Y/n)? No. 'Cause I care about you and I wanna get to the bottom of whatever this is." He squints his eyes at you as you reel back slightly.
"Oh," is all you say.
"See, it's shit like that," he murmurs. "I must've done something to make you act this way around me."
You sigh heavily. "No, Toji, you didn't. Really."
"But it's something."
"I..." that image of Megumi's mother on his window sill flashes through your head and you twitch. "It's not you."
You get a far off look in your eye before turning your gaze away. "Then what is it, doll? Huh? You sad? Did something happen?"
"I dunno, Toji. It's nothing," you exhale, turning around to face your bed. You stare at the tussled sheets as your lips tug downward, heart heavy, and a lump forming in your throat. "Let's just go back to sleep."
"You're not going to sleep. You'll be up for hours."
"No I won't."
Toji moves over to you as you start to climb back onto the bed. "What are you lying for?"
"I'm not lying," your voice drops as you clamber up, crossing your legs to sit on the edge of the comforter as Toji stands directly before you, looming over, staring down.
"You take me for some kind of idiot?" he scoffs. "I know you."
"I'm fine, Toji. Really. I - I'm just tired. Can we please," you nod toward his side of the bed, and his eyes catch the empty space for a moment but inevitably land back on you, much to your chagrin.
The assassin falls silent again, letting the emptiness take over you as tension builds. You're beginning to panic.
"(Y/n), when's the last time you got a full night's sleep?" he eventually asks.
He knows the answer already. You're sure of it. Or else, he wouldn't have been asking.
You swallow hard as you look at him with slightly widened eyes. "Um... a couple days ago," you elect to say.
"You're lyin' again."
You frown. "Well then why would you ask me if you already knew the answer?" you snap, tone taking an abrupt iciness.
Toji squints his eyes at you. "Now you wanna give me attitude after months of not tellin' me the truth?"
"I'm not giving you attitude, Toji, for fuck's sake."
"Then what do you call that, huh? I can barely get a word out of you for weeks and now you're cussin at me. You can't tell me I didn't do somethin' wrong if this is how y're talkin' to me."
"I'm telling you it's nothing," you turn away with steely eyes. "Can't you just drop it?"
"You're askin' the impossible of me, girl," he exhales tiredly, dropping down to a knee before you to better meet your eyes. You see the motion out of the corner of your eye, but force yourself to continue looking away. "I can't drop shit that has to do with you."
You sour.
Those words once so sweet to you now only sound like a recycled promise.
You click your tongue and roll your eyes, looking down at your hands as you pick at your nails. "Yeah, right," you utter low under your breath.
"Excuse me?"
You shrink again. "Nothing."
"Uh uh," he reaches up to grab your chin and turn you toward him. Your jaw is set hard as your eyes snap back to his face reluctantly. You find that he is growing agitated with you, as his gaze is harder than before. "Run that by me again. You think I don't care about you?"
"Toji, please," you push his hand away. "We have work in the morning. Let's just-"
"I'm not gettin' back in that bed until you tell me what's wrong," he rests his elbow beside your leg and leans. "You know I'm dead serious. I don't care if it takes all night."
You find that there is no escaping. No lying. You knew there wouldn't be, anyway. This is Toji Fushiguro after all, stubborn as a bull, so much so that he took his ex's last fucking name.
Your heart pangs.
"So?" he pushes, lifting his brows. He nudges your knee. "Spit it out. You wanna break up?"
"Why would you ask that?" you scrunch your nose. "...Do you wanna break up?"
"The hell I do, (Y/n). I'm askin' you."
"But why?"
"Cause you're acting so fucking weird, baby," he emphasizes, eyes earnest and wounded. "You don't wanna split, then?"
"...No, Toji..." you deflate. "But if that's... I don't know, if that's what you want..."
"Don't turn this onto me. I'm not the one acting like your poison any time you touch me."
"I don't-"
"You do," he interjects. "If you don't wanna leave me, then what?"
You struggle to find the words, eyes falling to your lap. "I can't tell you."
"Why? You cheating on me?"
"No!"
"Did someone die?"
"No."
"Are you pregnant?"
"No," You shake your head again.
Toji ducks his head in defeat, finding himself running in circles. "Christ, are you gonna give me a hint?"
"I can't tell you."
"That doesn't make any sense. You're the one always tellin' me I can talk to you about anything. Now the roles are reversed and you wanna shut down. Like I'd ever let you pull away like that. Are you sick? Is your brain scrambled? Is that why you're thinking stupid shit like that?"
You shift, tugging your blanket tighter. "Why are you being so mean?"
"I'm not, (Y/n). I'm lost," he breathes. "And I'm losing it. You're freaking me out."
"Then maybe you should leave me be if I'm causing you so much trouble."
You stand and brush past him, opening the bedroom door to leave suddenly. You're in the darkness of the living space, rounding the corner back to the kitchen, but Toji is hot on your heels.
"I don't wanna fight with you on this," he growls.
"Then don't. I'm not fighting," you shrug.
You reach the kitchen again and lean over to grab your forgotten mug, but Toji cuts off your point of contact, stepping between you and sliding the drink further away. You glare up at him.
"Y're taking out all your shit on me," he observes. "You think I don't want you?"
"Oh my god," you grumble. You go to storm past him, but he is quick to grab your blanketed arm, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder to eye him, your gaze coming off much nastier than it should, simply because you're hurting. And Toji is cracking away at your shell to get to the ugly truth.
"Don't walk away from me," he says. "I'm talkin' to you."
"Let me go."
And he does, but very slowly. He regrets it the moment you slip away again, disappearing into the bedroom. He follows you as you toss your blanket onto the bed, as you rifle through your closet for sweats and a jacket, as you leave to shove shoes on, and as you open the front door to step outside.
The air is cold and your breath hits the atmosphere in a visible fog. You hiss through your teeth as you step onto the steps and look around the neighborhood. You didn't grab your keys. You figured you'd just walk.
"(Y/n), get back inside," Toji shouts, shutting the door behind him to continue following you. You don't answer him. You just walk, and you hate how you know that he is behind you. You hate how his voice calls you, how it does not relent. You hate this reminder that he really does love you, and it's all because of her.
Because he sees her and not you.
It takes one last call of your name to make you stop and whip your head around. Your lips are pressed firmly together as tears well in your eyes like sprinkles of starlight. Your forehead is creased with something akin to devastation and your shoulders are so tense.
Toji immediately slows to a stop before you, and when he sees your tears, his harshness is crumbling. "Baby..." he starts.
"Just go!" you shout at him in the middle of the pathway. "Go, leave me alone! I can't be what you want me to be! I can't -" you shiver and choke over your own words. You heave in a breath, looking all around you through blurry eyes in a poor attempt to gather whatever pieces of dignity you have left.
You can't escape this feeling. It drags down on you, clings to you, and poisons you every single time you look at your boyfriend.
You sniff hard, scrunching your eyes tight. Lines of tears slide down your cheeks from your lashes as you huff, a confession bubbling in your chest that you can no longer keep away.
"- I can't be her," you blubber, knuckling away at your eyes. "I'm sorry. I can't. I'm just not. So please, please just... just let me go. It'll be better for us."
Toji knows exactly who you are talking about from the way you emphasize that pronoun. He finds himself stilling with shock, face falling, clouds of his breath floating into the night. Your sniffles and hiccuped breaths are the only audible noise out in the darkness, and Toji finds himself floored by the mention of his ex wife from the woman he intends to marry.
"I'm sorry," you manage again, hands palming at your damp skin. "I-I'm sorry. I just - I know how much she means to you, and I know it sucks not being with her and settling for me. And I t-think that if she hadn't - we would've never - " you can't finish your sentence.
"Woah," Toji starts, stepping close to you as you wipe your tears away and stifle your cries. "Alright, hold on," he murmurs low, gentle. He cradles your wrists softly, leading you to jump, and the pieces finally connect in Toji's head. He finally is starting to understand the issue.
Toji lowers your hands from your face, revealing your flushed, tear stained skin to him as your lips tremble. He brushes way excess tears for you, tucking pieces of hair into place thoughtfully.
"What's all this you're talkin' about my dead ex wife, doll?" he asks slowly, confused and slightly aggrieved by the topic. "Sayin' I settled for you? Are you kiddin? Don't tell me she's what's had you so depressed."
You hear the way he mentions her so breezily. He was never able to do that before, back when you first met him.
"Don't play dumb, Toji. Please," you whimper.
"I'm not playin' dumb, (Y/n). Maybe I am just plain dumb 'cause I don't understand," he says delicately. "Come back inside so we can talk about this."
You shake your head. "I can't go back in there."
"What are you talking about?"
"It's not my house, Toji. You know it's not. It's hers."
"Stop it," he says sternly. "Stop that shit. I don't like it."
"But it's true."
"It's your house."
"It was hers before it was mine. And it never would have been mine if-"
"Are you crazy?" he stops you. "Talkin' about her death like that. Have you lost your mind?"
You feel your heart crumble inside. You've hit a nerve. You know you have. That's why you didn't want to tell him. That's why you're better off just leaving him be. "I'm sorry," you say swiftly, and turn to go, but Toji is not having it. He secures your shoulders and keeps you in place.
"Stop trying to run away from me, girl. You're not going anywhere. Come back inside."
"Toji, you have to let me go."
"Not in a million years."
"I'm not her, Toji."
"You don't think I know that?" he furrows his brows. "Of course you're not her, (Y/n). I never expected you to be. I never asked you to be. Why are you stressin' over her all of a sudden?"
"It's not all of a sudden..." you trail off.
"...Okay." This is an inkling of progress. He'll take what he can get. "How long, then?"
"Does it really matter?"
"Yes," he says. "You been thinkin' like that since we met?"
"...No."
"Then for how long? Come on, (Y/n). I'm not gonna pry this shit from you all night. It's me," he whispers. Your brows curl with familiarity, with that ache of love. "Talk to me, baby. I'm askin' you."
You inhale sharply as another tear rolls down your face. Toji is quick to catch it on his thumb and swipe it away.
"How long?" he asks again.
You exhale. "I dunno... the last four or five months."
"And you've just been thinking all this shit in silence? By yourself?" You shrug. "Darlin', you're depressed. Look how you worked yourself up."
"Yeah. I know," you murmur.
"You always been like this?"
You shrug again with a wince. "Kinda."
"And this wife shit just set you off, then. Is that right?"
"...Yeah."
"Why?" he tilts his head. "What'd I do to make you start thinking about her so much?"
"I told you, it's not something you did," you sniff. You fall quiet and when you look at Toji, you see him waiting, expecting, as he is not going to continue to spoon feed you your own answers when you can speak yourself. He wants you to express yourself instead of keeping all of this in.
But it's hard. It's hard to give voice and power to what has only existed within your mind.
So you struggle for a bit, struggle to find the words, but Toji waits and hangs on to every silent second you think.
"I don't care how that shit sounds when you say it," he says suddenly. "I just want you to say it. Don't think about how it'll come off. Talk."
So you do.
"It's not something you did," you say again, quietly, timidly. "...It's just something I became aware of after I moved in... I know it's rude to shove myself into your family's grief, and I'm really sorry. I beat myself up for it every day, but... I don't know, somewhere along the line, I just started seeing her in everything," you confess. "And if I was seeing her, then I can only imagine what you and Megumi see... and I just thought that... you know, with how long it took you to open up to me... that you... started pretending or hoping I was her instead. Then I started obsessing even more."
Your confession settles hard into reality, and once the words have left you, you cringe. It's out in the open now. For Toji to scorn, to reject, to accept, to confirm.
Toji can practically feel the way your hear hammers by the pace of your pulse in your neck, and he deflates.
He thinks back to the death of his wife that still looms over his home every day, in every waking moment. He thinks of how the world drained of color, how his heart split in two, and how the blood of targets served in place of her warmth, as it was the only warm thing he could feel at the time.
He thinks of how he neglected his kids, how Tsumiki was left to care for Megumi during every last minute trip, every prolonged job, every bender, every fling. He thinks of how he couldn't even look Megumi in the eye without seeing what he lost, without being torn apart by the grief.
He thinks of how shitty he was when you met him. How many years of friendship it took for him to melt, to heal, to genuinely move on.
He thinks of the first time your laugh made his heart burst, as it was the first time he had felt such a thing in what felt like eons. He thinks of the first time he held your hand, how snug your soft skin felt against his palm. He thinks of your first kiss, and the guilt that wracked him when he knew that he was falling for you. That he was actually, truly, living again. Without her.
Toji frowns because he understands why you would think such a way. He really does. He spent the majoirity of the beginning of your relationship pushing and pulling, battling with the internal conflict, with the dilemma of honoring his ex wife while moving forward. He was so much different back then, so wishy washy, so torn. He hates how his grief could have made you think that his love for you isn't real, that it's only a placeholder, when you are everything.
Yes, his ex is dead. Yes, it turned his world upside down, but you are here with him and that's all he can ask for. You helped him, you saved him and his family, you loved him when he thought that love had died, you brought back color to a lifeless canvas.
You're his. And though he would never wish what he went through on his worst enemy, he can not imagine a world without you in it.
It's strange... that he had to lose someone in order to gain you.
With a heavy sigh, Toji smooths his hand to the back of your head and cradles it tenderly. His ivy hues regard you with love and understanding, face flat, eyes alight. He takes in your tears, your anguish, and he promises to suffer for it. To atone for what he's done to you without even trying.
He gets it. He does. For if the roles were reversed, hell, he'd feel the same way.
"Come inside, baby," he tells you gently. "I don't wanna have this talk with you out in the cold."
You tremble with fear, with looming heartbreak. "...Am I right for thinking that way?"
"No," he responds so easily, like he doesn't have to think about it. "But I - hell, I don't know. I should've known you'd feel some type of way about her eventually."
"Do you... still think about her?"
Toji purses his lips. "Yeah," he answers honestly. "Every day. But not in the way you're thinkin'."
Your stare up at him with such emotion, so fragile that you may break down at any moment as his other hand rests on your cheek.
"Losin' someone like that... shit, it sticks with you. It does. I won't lie to you about that. And you know it. You saw how I was, and... I guess... I'm sorry you had to deal with all that so early on."
"You don't have to apologize for mourning her, Toji. I'm saying I know-"
"You don't. Not really, or else we wouldn't be havin' this conversation," he says, and you clamp your mouth shut and let him go on. "My grief shoulda never made you feel like I wanted you to be her. She's the mother of my kid, (Y/n). We were married and she died. She ain't just gonna go away, but I've grieved her long enough to know that I love you. How I feel about you doesn't have anything to do with her. It's about you and me. And I wouldn't ever disrespect either of you by tryin' to turn you into someone who ain't even here. Hell, if I was lookin at you to be her, we wouldn't be together. You get what I'm saying?"
You nod solemnly, slowly. "I do."
"Do ya?" he cranes his head forward. "I love you. You hear me? I love you so much it fuckin' hurts. If I lost ya, I'd lose my mind. You get that right?" you nod again, but Toji isn't convinced. "Nah, I wanna hear you say it."
"Toji-"
"Come on. Say it."
Your nose flares as you melt. "You love me," you give in.
"So much it hurts."
"...So much it hurts," you finish shakily. "I love you too. I love you so much. I just don't want you to be unhappy. I know losing her really hurt you and I don't know what I'd do with myself if you were still just suffering."
"Grief ain't a straight line, doll. You know this. That doesn't mean a thing about how I feel about you."
You pause. "...Toji?"
"Yeah," he answers mindlessly as he looks over your face.
"Are you still in love with her?"
Toji stills. "(Y/n)," he starts. "She's dead. The love I have for her is somewhere floating around. It's different. It's the past. You're my present, and I love you."
"But if she were still here..."
"I don't wanna think about if she was still here. That ain't the life I'm living right now. I wouldn't have you, and it just - gets too fuckin' weird and complicated to even think about. So quit it. Y're shitting all over the good we have now, and even she wouldn't go for that."
You can't even be mad at his responses, for they're so Toji, so unapologetically full of truth that you remember he would never hide from you. This is your boyfriend, the man who completely changed to be with you. The man who swears to love you, to protect you, to hold you close until the day he dies. The man who promises you as a new parent for his kids, who welcome you with open arms - not despite the past, but because of it.
And the woman who gave Toji his last name still lingers, but in that spiritual, guarding way. She sheds the house in light, now able to rest knowing that you are there to look after everyone.
You've been a fool, acting like this, reliving grievances that the family has long come to terms with. Now that you've expressed yourself, now that the thoughts have left your lips, you can see that love swirling once more in Toji's eyes. You don't know how you had chosen not to see it for so long.
The feelings, however, won't just go away, even with this assurance.
You huff with an incoming cry and bury your face in your hands, overwhelmed, vulnerable, overstimulated.
Toji does not have to think before gathering you up in his arms, wrapping you tight, settling his chin atop your head and staring forward as you cry into his chest, humiliated, relieved, overcome by it all.
He presses his lips firm to your head with a promise. "It's you and only you," he mutters as you tremble.
And hopefully it's enough, enough for you to believe, to carry with you as truth and nothing less. For that's all Toji has for you. Truth, love, and his very life.
He's lost someone before. He won't let it happen again.
husband!toji who means well but always ends up doing things a bit recklessly. toji lives for quickness and efficiency so he doesn’t care if it means he’s putting himself at risk, he’d rather get the job done quick. this is why asking toji to chop vegetables was something you didn’t often do. the man meant well, was always willing to do any jobs that meant your life would become easier, and plus he liked to show off his apparent knife skills. carrots and potatoes were now chopped but your husbands fingers had also been made to suffer.
‘Baby look at the state of you! you’ve got cuts on nearly every finger and even one on your arm.’
‘no big deal doll i can’t even feel them.’
okay maybe the sting was starting to accumulate but it was nothing he hadn’t felt before. and he liked to be doted on.
‘come on sit down i’ll get the cream and plasters.’
his hands were placed in your lap and you gently massaged in the ointment to his cuts then wrapped a few bandaids on the ones still bleeding.
while you were busy, megumi from the other side of the room was intrigued by his parents behavior. he had seen his mum doing this to his dad before and he was pretty sure he knew the next step.
megumi sat up from his little fort, politely walking past the dinosaurs he had placed next to him. his tiny feet patting on the floor until he reached his dad.
‘hi baby what’s up?’ you asked sweetly as your son stood shyly infront of the two of you eyeing you both with uncertainty.
he bent down slightly to where you were holding tojis fingers and said
‘fooooooo’ the air from his mouth tickling tojis hands.
immediately you cracked up at your son copying you. you always kissed and blew on megumi when he got hurt so here he was curing his dad the only way he knew how.
‘this finger too baby’ you said to him as you held up tojis left hand to megumis face.
megumi went round to each finger with a soft peck and a big blow making sure he got rid of the pain.
‘oi kid i’ve got one more here’ toji said as he pointed to his cheek.
megumi was slightly confused as there was nothing red there but he placed his hands on his dads shoulders to balance himself nonetheless and gave him a big wet kiss then blew cold air right into his eye.
‘thank you kid you’ve got powers i feel completely better’
he picked his son up and placed him in his lap, his entire body fitting perfectly onto one of tojis thighs.
‘mama i have powers!’ he proudly exclaimed as he settled down and looked at you with his big googly eyes.
your heart softened at the sight of your two boys sat holding hands, the spitting image of each other matching scowls and all.
a/n : idk i’m rlly tired i was just thinking about it
