And Im Hanging On Your Words, Like I Always Used To Do.
Returning Megumi back to his father for his weekend of custody doesn't go in the way you really planned.
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"Mamaaaaaa. Are we there?"
You sighed, your eyes darting to Megumi in the backseat, who was squirming in his booster, fidgeting with his seatbelt. He'd asked this question nearly ten times during the thirty-minute drive from your home in the suburbs to his father's place in the city. "Yes, Megumi. Only five more minutes, alright? Stop messing with your belt and it'll go by faster."
He rolled his eyes and huffed.
Seriously, where did he get his attitude from?
You knew the answer the second the question crossed your mind. He got it from his father. He got fucking everythingfrom his father. The more he grew, the more he looked like your ex-fiancé, Toji. Their hair color was identical, their nose was the same, even their fucking expressions matched perfectly. You'd started noticing that when Megumi was angry, his brow furrowed and his lips parted, just like his father's.
He was your son, and yet the only thing that seemed to link the two of you was your eye color.
At least you had that going for you, even if the rest of Toji's genes dominated poor Megumi.
Luckily, his everyday personality seemed more like yours, just a bit edgier and dryer.
He was a good kid. A really good kid. If you had one thing to thank Toji for, it would be giving you Megumi.
And for leaving you. But that's beside the point.
Megumi spent the last five minutes staring out the window, admiring the tall buildings, the high-rise skyscrapers, and the busy, packed streets. Honestly, you missed living in the city. You wished you could move back, but those days were behind you now. And truthfully, you preferred the quiet of the suburbs.
You were far away from the asshole who ruined your life that way, too.
"Alright! We're here!" Megumi perked up instantly, pressing his hands against the window as the car rolled to a slow stop. The excitement on his face hit you somewhere soft, something you didn't like to acknowledge too often.
You pulled up outside the building and killed the engine, staring up a second longer than necessary. Boring. Basic. The same shitty apartment he'd lived in when you were together. The same one where you'd broken up with him on multiple occasions. The same one where he'd fucked you so many times—
"Mama?"
You blinked, snapping out of it. "Yeah, yeah—hold on." You unbuckled your seatbelt and got out, walking around to open his door. Megumi was already halfway out of his booster before you could stop him.
"Hey—slow down," you muttered, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder. "What did I say about waiting?"
He glanced up at you, completely unbothered. "You said don't unbuckle until you open the door."
"…Right."
Little shit.
You made a mental note to add that to the list of things to tell Toji before you left.
You hated drop-offs. Not just because it meant saying goodbye to Megumi for a few days, but because it meant you had to speak to his father. Your breakup had been less than civil—had turned so explosive you both had to walk away before either of you got violent. The child custody court hearings had been worse. But you preferred not to think about that and sour your mood before saying goodbye to Megumi.
Those thoughts could come later, when you were elbow-deep in a bottle of wine and a joint.
You grabbed Megumi's bag from the backseat, slinging it over your shoulder while he bounced on the balls of his feet beside you, already facing the building like he could will the door open faster.
"C'mon!" he said, tugging at your sleeve.
"Relax," you muttered, locking the car. "He's not going anywhere."
Unfortunately.
The pavement crunched under your shoes as you walked up, each step dragging a little more than the last. The building looked exactly how you remembered it, cracked paint near the entrance, that flickering light above the door that never got fixed, the faint smell of something you couldn't quite place but definitely didn't miss. It was piss. It was definitely piss.
God. Some things really didn't change.
"Remember what I said," you told him quietly.
"Be good," he said, already distracted, eyes locked on the door.
"Yes. And call me if you need anything."
He shot you a look, one that said shut up, mama. "I know."
Right.
Of course he did.
You pressed the buzzer.
There was a pause.
Then—
"Yeah?"
Your chest tightened, sharp and immediate, like your body recognized him before your brain could catch up.
Same voice. Same rough edge. Like nothing had changed.
You kept your tone flat. "It's me. I've got Megumi."
Another pause. Longer this time.
Then a quiet scoff. "Thought you got lost."
You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn't see it. "Unfortunately we didn't."
The lock clicked, the door opening with that same stubborn hesitation you remembered.
Megumi didn't wait—he pushed inside immediately, dragging you along with him. The hallway was dim, narrow, unchanged. You could map it blind if you had to.
The stairs creaked under your weight as you climbed. Megumi stayed a step ahead, practically vibrating with energy. You lagged just slightly behind, your grip tightening on the strap of his bag.
In and out, you reminded yourself. You're not staying.
By the time you reached the door, it was already open.
Of course it was.
He leaned against the frame like he had all the time in the world—broad shoulders taking up too much space, arms crossed, head tilted just enough to look lazy about it.
But his eyes?
Sharp. Locked on you instantly.
God.
He looked the same. Maybe worse. Maybe better. It was hard to tell when your first instinct was to either argue with him or grab him by the shirt and—
You cut that thought off immediately.
"…You gonna stand there all day?" he said.
There it was. That tone. Like he'd been waiting to get under your skin.
You huffed, nudging Megumi forward. "Go on."
"Daddy!"
Toji straightened, the edge in him softening in a way that felt almost unfair as Megumi ran straight into him. He caught him easily, one arm wrapping around his back, the other coming up to ruffle his hair.
"Hey, kiddo."
Megumi grinned. Actually grinned. "You said we could get takeout!"
"Yeah?" Toji glanced at you briefly, something unreadable flickering across his face before he looked back at Megumi. "You snitchin' already?"
Megumi giggled. "Oopsies."
You rolled your eyes. This is exactly what you wanted to talk about. Whenever Megumi came back from his three days here, he'd somehow unlearned all the rules you gave him. His bedtime was so fucked up it took you the entire two weeks to fix it before he went back. He complained his meals were too healthy, said he wanted takeout and Chinese food every day like he had with his dad. He whined about the lack of screen time and said that 'daddy lets me play on his iPad all day!!'
You needed to be firm about it. Needed to rip into him, nicely, so Megumi didn't hear and think you were arguing.
Megumi dragged you into the apartment, practically fucking skipping as he hauled you toward the couch. "This is where we watch TV!" he announced, plopping down and yanking you with him like you weighed nothing.
You let out a small laugh, dropping beside him. "I know, Megs."
The couch felt the same. Worn in the same places. Familiar in a way that made your chest feel weird if you thought about it too long.
Megumi bounced slightly, already reaching for the remote. "Daddy said we can watch a movie later! And get food!"
"Mmm, I figured," you muttered under your breath.
"You're a real big snitch, Megs."
You didn't turn right away. Just watched Megumi fumble with the remote, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration as he tried to figure out which button did what.
"Not yet," you said gently, nudging his hand. "Unpack first."
A groan. "Maaama—"
"Go put your bag in your room. I need to speak to your daddy about something."
"Ughhhhhh. Okay." Megumi took the bag from your hands and ran to his bedroom, eager to unpack and tell his father everything, probably.
You waited until you heard his bedroom door open and shut, waited until the faint sound of his bag's zipper opening reached you before you moved. You settled your face into an angry glare, rolled your shoulders, and made your way to the kitchen, where Toji had started filling two glasses with water. "We need to talk."
He didn't turn from the sink, leaving you staring at the broad, thick muscle of his back. "Yeah? 'Bout what?"
You let out a sharp breath through your nose, folding your arms. "About the fact that every time he comes back from here, it takes me two weeks to fix what you undo in three days."
You watched his shoulders tense. "That so?"
"Yes, that's so," you snapped, voice still low but tight. "His sleep schedule's a mess, he won't eat anything that isn't fried or drowning in sauce, and don't even get me started on the screen time—"
"He's a kid," Toji cut in. "He doesn't need all those rules."
"And I'm his mother," you shot back. "Which means I'm the one dealing with the aftermath when he comes home."
"Poor you. Having to do your job. Should I throw you a pity party?"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me, Doll."
"Don't call me that."
"Why not? You used to love it." That was true. When you were together, when he'd whisper 'Doll' in your ear, when he'd call you that in front of your friends or strangers he was jealous of—you'd melt. You'd fold so hard it was actually pathetic thinking back on it. God, you probably looked like such an idiot.
Could you really blame yourself, though? Even now you could feel your heart racing, could feel the pulse between your thighs as you stared at his unfairly handsome face. He really was attractive.
It was a shame he was a fucking piece of shit.
"Yeah, well. That was years ago."
"Not that long ago."
You scoffed. "Two years is a long time, Toji."
"Mmmm." He finally turned around, setting the two glasses of water on the counter and pushing the less-full one toward you. "You cut your hair?"
"What? Yeah, it was getting too long." You hadn't expected him to notice. Hardly anyone had until you pointed it out, and even then they didn't bother complimenting it.
"Looks good, Doll."
You groaned. God, he was such a fucking asshole. You tried to ignore the way your chest tightened, tried to pretend your heart didn't skip a beat.
"Stay on topic," you snapped, grabbing the glass just to have something to do with your hands. "You can't keep doing this, Toji. He needs consistency. He's not old enough to flip between two completely different lifestyles every other week."
"He's five—"
"Six—"
"Six, whatever. He's old enough to get used to it."
A sharp, disbelieving laugh escaped before you could stop it.
You didn't think, you just moved. Around the counter, straight into his space, closer than you'd been in months. Close enough to see the faint lines etched into his face—the ones that hadn't been there before. "You're a piece of shit."
"Yeah?"
"Yes. You are. You are so fucking disrespectful. I have a legitimate problem with our son and all you can focus on is yourself."
"Mmmm. I'm focusing on a lot more than myself right now, Doll."
Despite the anger bubbling up inside, you couldn't help but feel the effect of his words. His gaze landed on your lips before trailing down your body, admiring the way your clothes hugged your figure. You had plans for brunch with your friends and had put on a cute, flowy dress that cinched at your chest and waist before flaring out slightly. You could tell he liked it, the way his eyes tracked over you said enough.
Your breath caught. Heat crept up your neck, uninvited, unwelcome, and worse, uncontrollable.
You knew that look. Remembered it. Had tried so hard to get him to look at you like that when you were younger, had jumped him the second he did more often than not.
You can't pretend it didn't affect you. Since the breakup, sex hadn't even crossed your mind. You hadn't even touched yourself to the thoughts of Toji that plagued you in the middle of the night, too busy focusing on Megumi and your job. You went on one date, and it ended horrifically when the guy, Noah? Nolan?, Whatever his name was, casually mentioned he was a raging misogynist who thought single mothers were satan's spawn and whores.
That experience killed dating apps for you. Fortunately.
But that's beside the point. Every time you met Toji for your custody exchange, you left with soaked panties and a blush so red you looked sunburnt.
"Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what? Can I not admire your dress? It suits you, baby."
"Toji."
"You goin' somewhere?"
"It's none of your business where I'm going. Stop distracting me."
His lip curled into a sly smirk, and he had the fucking audacity to step closer, trapping you against the counter. His hands rested on the edge next to your hips. "I'm distracting you, am I?"
Your fingers tightened around the glass, knuckles going white as you refused to lean back even though the counter dug into your spine and he was right there, all heat and presence and that stupid fucking smirk.
"Yes," you said flatly, forcing your voice not to waver. "You are. That's kind of your thing, isn't it? Avoid the actual problem and—what—flirt your way out of it?"
His eyes flicked back to yours, the amusement clear in them. He loved this. Loved riling you up, getting you angry. He loved seeing the reactions he could pull out of you. Despite how hard you tried not to play into his hand, you often found yourself doing the exact opposite—giving him what he wanted every time he had you close enough.
"Flirt?" he echoed, low, like the word tasted different in his mouth. "You think that's what this is?"
"What else would you call it?" you shot back, tilting your chin up. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you'd rather stare at my tits than listen to me talk about our son."
For a second, just a second, something in his expression shifts.
Not guilt. God, no. Toji Fushiguro doesn't do guilt.
But his eyes darken. Sharpen.
"Careful," he murmurs, voice lower now, roughened at the edges. "You start sayin' shit like that, I might think you wantme distracted."
Your stomach flips, hard and traitorous.
"I want you to act like a father," you snap, but there's heat behind it now that has nothing to do with anger.
His gaze drops again, blatant, unashamed, dragging down your body like he's got all the time in the world. He looks so fucking smug, so full of himself and confident it just makes you angrier. And hornier than you already fucking are.
You need to go. Need to grab your bag, say goodbye to Megumi, and meet your friends for brunch to forget about whatever the hell this man is doing to you.
You shove at his chest with your free hand. Not hard. Not enough to move him.
But it is enough to make your palm flatten there for a second too long. Solid. Warm. Familiar in the worst way.
"Move," you say, quieter now.
He doesn't.
Of course he doesn't.
He just tilts his head slightly, watching you like he's already five steps ahead, like he knows exactly how this ends. He's probably right. If you let it, this'll end with you bent over the counter, his fingers shoved down your throat to muffle your moans while he fucks into you—
"Make me."
You inhale sharply. That was a mistake.
Because he's close, way too fucking close, and he smells the same, feels the same, looks at you the same. It hits all at once, fast and dizzying.
"God, you're—" you start, but it falls apart halfway through.
His hand moves.
His fingers brush your wrist, easing the glass from your grip and setting it aside like it's nothing, before trailing down to your waist. The heat from his large, rough palm seeps through the fabric of your dress, burning your skin like a brand.
Your breath stutters.
"You still get like this," he murmurs, softer now, eyes flicking between yours and your mouth. "All worked up, actin' like you hate me—"
"I do fucking hate you."
"Sure you do, Doll."
You want him to kiss you. Fuck, you want it so bad. It feels like you've never needed anything more than his lips on yours, his tongue shoved deep in your mouth.
But you have self-respect. You have your stubborn, intense will to not let Toji have something over you again, despite that will slowly fracturing and disintegrating as he moves closer and closer. So close that his nose brushes yours and you can feel the soft push of air out of his mouth as he breathes.
Your jaw tightens.
"Get off me, Toji."
His thumb shifts slightly against your waist, rubbing small, hard circles, tracing against the soft fabric.
"I told you, you gotta make me," he murmurs.
You hate that your body reacts before your brain does. Hate that your breath catches, that your fingers twitch like they don't know whether to push him away or pull him closer. Hate that after everything—after the cheating, the lies, the manipulation—you still feel like this when he's close.
It's humiliating. It's fucking pathetic.
"You're unbelievable," you mutter, but there's no bite left in it. Just frustration. Pure, deep frustration at him and at yourself for letting it get this far.
His mouth quirks, not quite a smile. "Been told that."
"Yeah, I'm sure you have."
His lips tug into that smirk again and he leans in closer.
Too close.
Your body locks up for half a second when his lips brush yours, hardly even there, not even a real kiss. Soft. Warm. Like he's testing the waters to see if you'll push him away like you probably should.
You nearly push forward, nearly let yourself fall back into his stupid little world, the one he once had you wrapped up in. Nearly fall right back into the mess you had to physically drag yourself out of with nothing but Megumi and the money you'd been hiding.
"Mama?"
It's like someone dumps cold water over your head, snapping you out of whatever spell Toji had cast.
You shove at him properly this time, harder, enough that he actually takes a step back. His hands drop from your waist immediately, like they were never there to begin with.
Distance. Air. Space to breathe.
Space to realize just how close you'd been to ruining all your progress.
How the fuck did Toji do this to you? How did he manage to pull a blanket over your eyes and scramble your thoughts so completely?
"In here, Megs!" you call, voice just a little too quick as you smooth your dress down like that's the most important thing in the world right now. "You done unpacking?"
"Yeah!" he says, padding into the kitchen, dragging his little dinosaur behind him. His eyes flick between the two of you, curious, observant in that quiet way his father was. "What were you doing?"
"Talking," you answer instantly.
"Mhmm, talking," Toji adds, just as fast.
You shoot him a look.
He doesn't even bother hiding the smirk this time.
Megumi squints slightly, and you know he doesn't fully buy it, but he shrugs it off in favor of more important things, like tugging on Toji's hand. "Can we get food now?"
"Toji—" you start.
"Yeah, we'll get food," he says over you, easy, like the conversation you just had didn't even happen. Fucking typical.
Your eye twitches. "Healthy food," you cut in, sharp.
He glances at you. "…We'll see," he says finally.
You let out a slow breath through your nose. Not a win. Definitely not a win.
But not a complete loss either.
You crouch down in front of Megumi, smoothing his hair back. "Be good, okay? And listen to your dad."
He nods, distracted by the sight of Toji pulling out old, fraying paper menus from the Chinese takeout places nearby. "I will."
You hesitate for half a second, then press a quick kiss to his forehead. "You call me if you need anything."
"I know, Mama," he says in that same little tone from earlier.
Yeah. Of course he does. He's a smart kid.
You stand, grabbing your bag, forcing yourself not to look at Toji as you head for the door.
You needed a drink. You needed a joint. You really needed to stop doing drop-offs at his apartment.
God, you were so fucked.





















