#taylor swift count down | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nanamiskentos · 7 months ago

Text

MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.” just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

#toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #toji x you #jjk toji #works #daphworks

4K notes · View notes

xximperioxx · 2 months ago

Text

Work Crush

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word count: 3k (I blacked out)

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, nothing too spicy - my man just wants to kiss his girl, sex toy mentioned lmao

Notes: y’all this man has me in a chokehold. He may be a little ooc but idc. This is kind of set before the first episode. I literally don’t know any about social workers so please ignore. It’s been soooooo long since I’ve written something so please be gentle. Also when you read it you can totally tell I listened to I Can See You by Taylor Swift writing this.

———————————————

Being a social worker at the Pitt has been interesting to say the least. You never know what’s going to come through those doors. The days are long and the shifts are difficult but the people and families you’ve helped regardless of the situations have made it worth it.

You started as an intern a few years ago, working directly with Kiara. You’ve become a tight knit family in the Pitt in a short amount of time.

You obviously cared for some co-workers more than others. Kiara was like your mom in and out of hospital. Dana was your work mom, Langdon was like your annoying brother, Collins and McKay felt like older sisters. Robby was different.

At first it started as a silly work crush. Blushing every time he said your name. It had to be how he looks in scrubs. That’s what you told yourself anyways. That was until you both saw each other outside of work at a local coffee shop.

You walked into the coffee shop down the street from your apartment, half asleep even though it’s after 2pm on your day off. Lifting your sunglasses to the top of your head, you scan the restaurant. You take an earbud out and stare at the menu debating on trying something new.

You feel someone stand next to you. Not ready to order, you turn to the person, “Oh I’m not ready yet, you can…Robby?”

He looks down in surprise, almost not recognizing you in casual clothes. His eyes travel down to your leggings and an old band tee with your hair in a lazy ponytail. You wanted to cringe, immediately regretting the lazy outfit.

He gives you a smile, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Your cheeks warm from his smile. “Just needed an afternoon pick me up.. well technically morning.”

He lets out a chuckle, “Just woke up too? I think I rolled out of bed like an hour ago.” Lies. He barely slept.

You nod with a smile, noting the lie you can see in his eyes. He feels like you see right through him.

He looks down at you, “Do you come here often?”

You purse your lips, not trying to laugh, “Was that supposed to be a pick up line?”

Robby feels himself grow red. He didn’t mean it like that. At least he thought. He opens his mouth to respond but the barista interrupts him. “Dr. Robby! You want your usual?”

Robby slowly nods in response and takes a step towards the register. You let your eyes finally take him in. Off shift Robby. He was wearing sweats and a hoodie. God he’s hot in regular clothes too. You find yourself thinking he looks a little too good in sweatpants. Get a hold of yourself.

Robby clears his throat. You’re caught red handed. Your eyes meet his. “Let me buy your coffee.”

“You really don’t need to do that.” You stutter out embarrassed. Is he being nice or flirting?

He gives you a look. “Too late. Order.” He motions you over, “C’mon, before I change my mind.”

“Yes, Sir,” you mumble before taking a step towards the barista with a smile. You can feel Robby’s eyes on you. His mind is racing with a million thoughts. He hopes you can’t hear his heart beating out his chest.

As you’re ordering, Robby pulls out his wallet. His eyes can’t help but wander over your ass. He catches himself and pulls himself back when he hears the barista’s voice. He feels like a dirty old man. He meets the eyes of the employee already looking at him. The barista repeats the amount due. Robby quickly hands the cash over.

You both walk to a table. “Thank you for the coffee. I really appreciate it.”

The smile he gives you almost weakens your knees.

“Anything for my favorite social worker.”

You let out a laugh, “Yeah, when Kiara’s not at work. She’s the best. ”

He shakes his head, “Give yourself some credit, kid.” You feel yourself deflate at the name but shake it off. “You’re fantastic at your job.”

“Says you, Dr. Robinavitch.” He makes a face at the praise and shakes his head.

It’s quiet between the two of you. You can see him thinking. Taking a sip of your coffee, you joke quietly, “One of these days, Michael.” His brown eyes meet yours with furrowed eyebrows in response, “You’ll tell me what’s going on in that brain of yours.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the coffee shop, you found yourself watching how he carried himself around patients, around his coworkers, those he thought of as friends, and you. How he cares more about others than himself. The way he smirks when jokes around, the way he smiles when he sees his residents working hard. Your heart begins to beat faster whenever he catches your eye.

You began to feel Robby’s eyes on you more. The lingering touches when he brushes past you to get to another patient. The two of you ignoring what you’re both feeling.

Langdon even noticed the tension. He thinks it’s funny to gag whenever he catches you two looking at each other. It normally ends in a hard shove and a wince.

You don’t realize you’re spacing out in front of the computer until Collins repeats your name for the third time and McKay is snapping her fingers in your face. You blink a few times before looking at her. “Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Collins hums, “Any particular reason?”

You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “I guess I have a lot on my mind recently.”

McKay frowns at you, “Are you taking your medication? You really…”

You stop listening to her as you see Robby walk through the door. His eyes find yours and gives you a smile with tired eyes.

McKay stops talking, following your eyes. She scoffs as Collins and Mohan both snicker.

“How does that song go?” Mohan begins to sing, “‘Daddy’s home, home for meee.”

Collins lets out a loud laugh before joining, “You know your daddy’s home. It’s time to playyyy”

“You guys are mean.” “It’s too early for this” You and McKay say at the same time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had only been about two hours into the shift and you had already talked to families about tough situations. A miscarriage, death, postpartum mental health, addiction. You had lost count already.

Sighing as the low battery message popped up on the tablet you were using, you walked over to the desk to get a new one. Langdon, Mateo, and Mohan were deep in conversation about a patient you assume.

“Listen, all I’m saying is, the majority of the people who use toys like that aren’t getting laid.” Langdon said as if it proved a point.

You turn to the trio in shock, “What the fuck did I just walk in to?”

Mohan greeted you with a smile, “Patient‘s penis got stuck in one of those hands free strokers.”

You blanched at the thought. “That’s rough.”

Mateo nods in response before joking, “It was a sticky situation.”

A snort escapes you, Mohan stifles a giggle, and Langdon groans at the bad joke.

“Alright tea party’s over.” Robby interrupts the group, “Gloria is already up my ass today. I don’t need her seeing this.”

The doctors go in separate directions, each going to check on patients. Robby sits down at a computer with a sigh. He puts his readers on. You glance at him with a smirk as you work on paperwork for a recent patient, “Is today the day?”

He lets out a snarky laugh, “To talk about my feelings? In your dreams.”

“You always are, Dr. Robinavitch. You wouldn’t believe half the things I dream about,” You cheekily respond. He shakes his head at you. A real laugh escapes him.

Kiara comes up to you with a smile and you greet her. She looks between you and Robby. Noting the smiles on your faces. “What’d I miss?”

You hear McKay call you over to a patient. Picking up a new tablet you begin to walk away. You turn your head and joke, “Dr. Robby just mentioned to me he was finally interested in talking to you about what’s going on in that brain of his!”

Kiara looks at Robby with a hopeful smile, “Really?”

“No.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later in the day, you found yourself at the counter again working on a patient file. Langdon noticed you and looked away from Dr. Robby, “What about you, (Y/N), what’s your take on dogs and kids?”

Glancing up from your tablet, “I’m actually more of a cat person myself. Had one growing up and I have one now.” You answer with a shrug.

Langdon scoffed, “You’re basically an old cat lady.”

You send a glare his way.

“You have a cat and haven’t gotten laid in like a year.”

Your face turns red in embarrassment. You confessed to Langdon that it’s been over a year since you’ve had sex when you went out drinking with him and his girlfriend not too long ago. You could almost hear the way the couple let out a sad oh in response now. Could this get anymore embarrassing?

Thankfully you don’t notice Dr. Robby’s eyes widened after hearing Langdon. Surely a young woman like yourself didn’t spend most nights alone. He finds you attractive, he wouldn’t deny that. He remembers hearing you mention Leo a few times in passing. Does this mean you don’t have a boyfriend? He shakes his head, ignoring his thoughts. He could be your dad for Christ’s sake.

“And you’re a swiftie.” Dana added.

You gape at her. “How did you even know that?”

The charge nurse chuckled, “I saw you crying in your car at All Too Well a couple months ago. The 10 minute version if I recall.”

The two doctors raise their eyebrows at Dana, surprised to know her knowledge of the song.

Robby slides his glasses down to look at the charge nurse with a smirk, “Kinda sounds like you’re a swiftie, Dana.”

Your eyes find his and you try not to smile at his way to try to change the conversation. Robby’s smirk turns into a soft smile at you. Langdon looks between the two of you and keeps his mouth shut this time.

She puts her hands up in defense, “Blame my daughters.”

“They have great taste!” You defend her daughters. Ignoring the urge to cringe knowing Dana had caught you crying over a silly guy who broke your heart.

Langdon turned his attention back to you. Pointing his pen at you, he smirks, “Officially an old cat lady…just in a 20 something year old’s body.”

Dana puts her hand on your arm, “Sweetie, you’re too young to turn into a cat lady. You can’t be spending your nights off with your cat.” she says with a light laugh.

“For your information, Leo is great company.”

Robby looks up from the computer, “Leo’s your cat?” Langdon and Dana let out a laugh at his comment.

You pick up your tablet with an eye roll. You mumble, “You guys suck.” You begin walking away before you look back, “You guys remember this next time you need me for a patient!”

Robby found himself standing up and following you. As he got closer to you he began to regret his decision. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie with a sigh.

Now in step with you, his elbow bumps your shoulder.

“That last part didn’t include me, right? Because I-..” A laugh from you interrupts him. He lets out a chuckle too.

“No Robby, I’m all yours.” You stop, eyes wide after realizing what you said. “I mean like - you don’t suck,” Robby’s grin grows causing you to turn red. “..I’m going to stop talking now.”

“Oh no, please keep going.” He teases.

You try to joke, “Is this karma for earlier?”

Your smiles wipe off you when you see Gloria standing with an unimpressed look on her face. She’s looking at Robby. You slowly turn to look at him, placing your hand on his bicep. You purse your lips and lie, “I’ll um… go talk to that patient in 103 that you mentioned,” you lean in whispering, “Good luck.”

He gives you a tight lipped smile.

Collins stops you on your way to speak to one of her patients about counseling. You walk into the patient's room with a calming smile.

As you’re discussing what services will be covered by their insurance, you get interrupted by Robby’s annoyed voice yelling, “I can only tell you so many times that this wouldn’t be happening if you hired more help! It’s fucking ridiculous. We are doing all we can down here while upstairs is empty.”

Your eyes widen and your patient lets out a laugh. You apologize for the language before casually peeking out the door to see what happened. You only see an irked Gloria and a group of nurses and doctors looking at each other awkwardly. No Robby to be seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After finishing up your conversation with the patient you excuse yourself. Dana looks up from the computer to see you at the desk signing some paperwork.

“You talk to Robby?” She questions.

You meet her gaze and shake your head. She sighs and you look around the room, still not seeing him. “I was going to ask you that. Where did he disappear to?” You get a shrug in response. Nodding, you put away your tablet and decide to look for the stressed doctor.

You end up finding Robby leaning up against the wall in a quiet hallway. His head against the wall with his eyes closed. You watch him for a minute, debating if you should leave him alone.

You decide to join him. Leaning on the wall, your arms brush. It’s quiet.

You rest your head back and close your eyes as you enjoy the moment of peace.

Robby’s voice fills the air, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

You hum, “I know.”

He turns his head to look at you. Feeling his stare, you peek at him with one eye. You can’t decipher the look he’s giving you. “Stop looking at me like that.”

He lets out a chuckle and turns away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laugh.

The two of you stand in comfortable silence. The loud noise from down the hall drowns out the loudness of your beating hearts.

“Does it bother you that I’m twice your age?”

The question takes you by surprise. This time you turn your head to look at him.

“I find it sexy.” You tease and he lets out a huffed laugh.

It's quiet again. You sigh, “No, it doesn’t bother me. It never did,” you pause almost hesitant, “Does it bother you that I’m young?”

Robby let’s out a tired sigh, “It would be a whole lot fucking easier if it did but it doesn’t.” He runs his hands over his face. “Everything would be a lot easier if I didn’t feel this way about you.”

You nudge his shoulder. You push yourself off the wall and face him, “Tell me about it. I’ve had the hots for you since I started here,” you begin to take a step backward to create some space and laugh, “I tried to convince myself it was purely a work crush and next then I knew is - you’re all I could think about. Day and night.”

Robby reaches for your waist and pulls you in close.Your hands rest on his chest.“Remember when you blushed every time I said your name?” You roll your eyes, “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

He turns serious again, “You take one look at me and I feel like you see right through me and it’s fucking scary. Yet every time you smile at me I suddenly feel like a teenager again.” His thumbs grazing your hips he holds you and jokes, “More like a dirty old perv actually.”

You scrunch your face, “We all have our quirks. Me with my attraction to sexy older men and being a cat lady - ”

“You’re ridiculous,” He cuts you off with a shake of his head and a smirk. “And one sexy cat lady.”

You let out a giggle.

The two of you look into each other's eyes. Robby’s eyes occasionally glancing down at your lips. His head dips down and you lift head up to meet his lips. Your lips brush against each other and you mumble, “Michael, if don’t you don’t kiss me soon I think I might pass away.”

You feel the rumble of his chest as he chuckles, “Always so dramatic.” His lips finally meet yours for a slow, gentle kiss.

You eagerly kiss him back. His hands trail up your body and cup your face, kissing you harder. You both deepen the kiss and find yourself unzipping his sweatshirt and taking it off him. He pulls his hands away from your face for a second to help take it off, your lips never parting. It falls to the ground. Your hands travel up his biceps and back to his chest. After a few seconds, you both pull away with cheesy smiles on your faces, breathless. His hands fall back to your waist and gives you a squeeze.

Your hands wrap around his neck, “That was really nice.”

He lets out a snicker before pulling you into another passionate kiss. His lips begin to travel to your jaw and down your neck. You let out a breathy sigh, “This is even better.”

Your breath hitches as he begins to suck at your neck. This couldn’t keep going farther. It'll only be a matter of time before someone catches the two of you. You let out a moan, “You've had me hot and bothered since you told Gloria off.” He groans before he nips at your shoulder in response and pinches your sides.

You squeak, “And as much as I would love to jump your old man bones right now,” another pinch, “We should really get back before she comes looking for you.” You gently pull his face back up to yours.

He nods. “You’re right.” The look in his brown eyes says otherwise. He shrugs with a teasing smile, “Maybe just one more.”

You roll your eyes before pulling him into another kiss.

It was only a matter of time until Dana found the two of you, “Hey! We don’t have time for this! Get your asses back to work.”

You jump away from each other embarrassed, blushing like two teenagers who got caught by their parent.

#dr robinavitch #dr. robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt x reader #the pitt #the pitt hbo #dr robby #dr michael robinavitch #the pitt fic #the pitt imagine #noah wyle #hbo

2K notes · View notes