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kichous · 10 months

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✧･ﾟ:* no, i don’t disagree

summary. the least you could do is look at your husband while he’s talking about leaving you. you can’t even give him that. series. how should i greet thee ? part one . part two . part three . part four you’re here ! pairing. fushiguro toji x f!reader. warnings. post-partum depression. hurt no comfort / angst. word count. 2321

The life of a Zen’in lady is exactly as you imagined it to be.

Meant to be neither seen nor heard, yet nevertheless intensely scrutinized all the same, your purpose is to pop out babies and little else. If you were a child or of a lesser rank, you’d be put to work as a maid or a governess. Your late father-in-law, may he rot in the deepest pits of hell, was the twenty-fifth head of the clan. With any luck, your son will be the twenty-seventh.

But he’s only just a baby. You’ve done your part—squeezed out a healthy and handsome baby from your uterus—so what else is there left to do? Finally, for the first time in your life, you have the luxury to be bored. So, yeah, this is pretty much what you imagined life as a woman in a rich and powerful family would be like. You’ve always been a realist, just straddling the line of pessimism.

It had been hard at first, even as used to rejection and disdain as you are, being married to the black sheep of the family. Toji had been doing just fine without them, and his return with a young, beautiful, and hopefully fertile bride was met with more condescension and gossip than outright envy. Men openly scoffed and spat and women tittered behind there sleeves as you walked past, wondering if you were hubristic or just dumb for hitching yourself to a rotting, one-wheeled wagon. The mere notion that you loved Toji was apparently inconceivable.

And on the topic of conception, the whispering only worsened when you felt pregnant. The best you could hope for was morbid curiosity of what gifts your offspring would possess—if they’d inherit your technique or take after their ‘useless cretin’ of a father. Otherwise, it was more of the same old. Toji was a freak, you were a commoner, blah, blah, blah. When Megumi was born, your clansmen had the grace not to insult a baby. But once he grows to toddlerhood, you have a feeling the vitriol towards your family will return with full force.

When that happens, you may not handle it with the grace and dignity—ha, try saying that with a straight face—that you’ve managed thus far.

Motherhood is exhausting. Megumi is only three months old, his cranium still soft and malleable, his little hands and feet still terribly uncoordinated. But even so, you turn your back for ten seconds and he’ll have rolled out of your sight. You can only imagine what it’ll be like when he learns to walk and run. You are already so damn tired. Suffice it to say that your patience has also eroded with your energy.

You’d already had one outburst, try as you and Toji might to pretend it never happened.

You worry, too, beyond more than just how squishy and breakable your son is. If by some miracle the clan takes interest in his powers, they’ll take him from Toji, and he’s so fond of the little guy already. You know that your first fear should be that the Zen’in clan will take the baby away from you, but well, when you say you’re tired—you mean of him, too.

Yes, it’s an awful thought. Yes, you despise yourself for it, but you had expectations for life at Toji’s side, and this part meets none of them. You expected idleness, not bone-deep burnout.

You miss spending time alone with your husband. You want to get a good night’s sleep every day. You want your leaking breasts to stop staining your clothes and to stop being sore all the damn time. Independently, these are relatively harmless wants—until you realize your sole obstacle to these things is your very own child.

The fact of the matter is that Zen’in Megumi was born to secure your place in the clan. You are a nobody and an outsider, and they will never let you forget that. You love Toji, you love the fact that you created a life together, and of course (you have to remind yourself), you love your baby. But it would not be untrue to say that Megumi was born of spite. That’s no reason for a child to enter this world. He’s innocent in all of this, undeserving—and, at his age, blissfully ignorant—of the monstrous cruelty from which he spawned.

Shouldn’t you know any better? You’d been adopted for much the same reasons. And how well had that turned out for you?

It stings, too, how much better Toji is with the baby. In the days leading up to the birth, he’d been just as nervous as you were, in his own Toji way. It hadn’t yet set in the magnitude by which your life was about to change. Not even as the months passed and your belly grew did either of you stop to think about what it actually meant. But after Megumi emerged from an arduous twenty-hour labor, Toji had taken to child-rearing like a duck to water. All too ready to take the fussy baby from your arms, he never complained about the early morning wails, nor about having to change Megumi’s diaper—even when one of his favorite shirts ended up getting splattered with pee from a wriggling infant. He spent a week babyproofing every surface of your home, and when one of the other members of the clan got too close, he would snap at them like a rabid dog.

Fatherhood came easily to Toji. You’re almost certain he judges you for how difficult it is for you to acclimate on your end.

The look in his eyes says as much, distant and cold as the chilly March air. He has Megumi bundled up in his arms, the boy’s big eyes fixed on the underside of his father’s chin.

“Do you want to hold him?” asks Toji eventually, when he seems to realize telepathy via eye contact is not a feasible way to communicate his thoughts.

Megumi looks adorably comfortable in Toji’s arms, snug and relaxed and smiling openly—although it could be that he’s just exploring his facial muscles. You shake your head. No need to jiggle the baby around when he’s fine where he is. “I’m good.”

Toji rolls his eyes. “Typical.”

Your chest tightens as your heart skips a beat. You knew it. The man prefers outright aggression to the passive kind, but you could tell. He hasn’t been happy with you for a long time. “Excuse me?” you snap anyway, the sting of Toji’s rejection too much for your ego to bear. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Don’t waste my time by asking a question you already know the answer to.” He shifts Megumi, almost as if to shield him from you. “Would it at least kill you to pretend we’re not a burden to you?”

“We?” you echo incredulously. Since when have you ever—now you genuinely wonder where any of this is coming from. “You’re including yourself with the baby?”

Toji laughs sharply, a noise that startles your child, based on the way he starts fussing. You remember Megumi’s first smile, mirroring his father’s expression after his first sneeze. Toji had laughed then, too. But that was open, vulnerable, and genuine. This was sharp, prickly, and mocking. He usually reserves the caustic laughter for other people. He laughs with you, not at you. “You understand how that makes it worse, right? That you’re actually asking me that?”

You do, and that’s why you hold your tongue. You’re not eager to put your foot even further in your mouth. Fingers crinkling the heavy silks of your sleeves, you press your lips together. How had it all gone so wrong? There was a time when the two of you had been able to speak without words, a resonance between the two of you that had nothing to do with cursed energy. If you were a sappier sort, you’d say it was just a case of soulmates. But clearly that’s not true. Marriage had once been so easy. You’d never expected it to hurt this much with him.

He takes in your silence with gritted teeth. Shoulders tense, he barks, “Do you even still want to be here? Do you care at all? Or is that sort of thing beneath you now?” Each question is a blade that sinks into your heart. If you weren’t already sitting, you might have staggered. Sorcerer killer indeed.

“Of course I care,” you snap. It’s sharper than you intend, more furious than desperate, and you know that it will only serve to make Toji more defensive. He hates it when people raise their voices at him, same as you. You used to know how to talk to each other. But things have been falling apart between you two for a while now. Megumi was intended to be a bandaid as much as a political pawn, but instead he’s more like a torpedo to the best thing that has ever happened to you.

Rubbing your hands over your face, you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes. You want to claw them out. You want to tear your heart out of your chest and give it to Toji, but it’s already fallen out in the form of the little cherub in his arms, and all that’s left is hollow nothingness. It takes every ounce of your self control not to scream as you inhale shakily. “I care so fucking much,” you whisper, “that it is sapping the life out of me. It’s draining me, but I’ll give anything that I need to, even if it kills me.”

Toji’s gaze drops to the top of your son’s head. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to the dome, and he doesn’t meet your eyes as he speaks. “What if I said,” he begins, pausing to lick his lips, “what if I said I wanted out of here? What would you do?”

It’s a fact of life that the people you love most will also be the ones who hurt you most.

You can’t say the thought never crossed your mind, when the fights started to get more frequent and the nights lonelier and colder. Toji hadn’t exactly been subtle when he started to pull away from you. This was simply the natural conclusion. Failing to fix things, you allowed him to get to the point where he wanted to leave you. He’s not the first person in your life to abandon you. He won’t be the last. But this is one wound you won’t ever recover from.

You love him. Nothing could ever change that. At least he wasn’t having an affair. Not that you know of, anyway.

What’s the saying? If you love something, you have to let it go?

It’s undeniable that you’re selfish. You can blame your terrible upbringing ‘til you’re blue in the fact, but the circumstances by which you fell for Toji spoke volumes of your greed. If you’d left well enough alone, burying the hurt and shame of being unwanted by two incredibly awful people, if you had never chased after the Zen’in clan in the pursuit of revenge, he wouldn’t be breaking your heart right now. So it must mean something, how much you love him, that you choose to take the decidedly unselfish route.

Your throat is dry when you reply, struggling to get through the massive lump. Your eyes sting. “I’d let you go.” If it was what he truly wanted, to be rid of you once and for all, you wouldn’t stand in his way. “Do what you like.”

Unable to look at him, knowing that would make the tears fall, you only hear Toji exhale. “I don’t know what I expected,” he says quietly. “I don’t—I don’t know why I—”

He’s cut off by a distressed warble. Little Megumi seems to have absorbed the displeasure of his parents, waving a tiny fist in the air as he kicks and struggles in Toji’s grasp.

You rise onto numb legs as Toji shushes the boy softly with gentle apologies. At the very least, Megumi isn’t crying. How such a loud sound could come from such a tiny body, you’ll never understand. You come to a stop just in front of the baby, reaching out to tenderly stroke his head. You just can’t stop hurting the ones you love, can you?

He won’t be able to explain himself, on account of being a baby. When Megumi develops the vocabulary to articulate his thoughts, he probably won’t even remember that it happened. But you will.

Your face is wet when Megumi whines and ducks from your hand. It’s not the usual wiggle of a fussy baby. It’s a deliberate movement, shrinking away from you to bury his little face into his father’s chest. You look up at Toji, struck dumb, and even he seems as shocked as you are. And just as quickly, his expression shutters, replaced by something smug and vicious.

It’s like something’s rotted within you, necrosis eating at your insides in this icy sort of burn that just won’t go away. Like a void, a chasm, inside of you that just keeps growing and growing. How could he look at you this way, this man who said ‘I love you’ first? You’d broken your promise first, abandoning the honesty and authenticity, however ugly, you’d both vowed for the privilege that came with his family name. So you suppose he has a right to be this way. Still hurts, though.

A thousand needles is the punishment for breaking a pinky swear. As you force yourself to swallow, it feels like they’re already lodged in your larynx. Your husband is ummoved by the tears that track down your face. It really is over.

“Well,” sneers Toji, the curl of his lip pulling at his scar, “looks like the kid’s got a great intuition.”

#fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #hsigt tag.#jjk fic.#this is literally just marriage story lol #*toji vc* EVERY DAY I WAKE UP AND I WISH YOU WERE DEAD *slams fist into wall*#they really are like the worst couple ever lmAO 0 for 0 in communication #anywho that's how you know i write For Me

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