You’re a godsend. Toji had been at the end of his rope, stressed out between trying to care for Megumi on his own and balancing his job. There aren’t a lot of daycare options when you’re an assassin. But then you come along—sweet little thing that you are—right after he put up an ad for a babysitter. A college student just trying to make some money on the side; you’re perfect.

He doesn’t offer to tell you why he’s gone overnight or sometimes for days, and you, blessedly, don’t ask. It’s not like he can explain he’s a hired killer. For all you know he just works nights at a warehouse or some shit, and that works just fine.

And now he’s getting dangerously hooked on seeing you around the house. Your presence, the gentle way you care for Megumi, your incredible cooking…the way you move, your tight little outfits, the shape of your lips that he can’t stop imagining in other, less appropriate contexts.

You’re filling a void he didn’t know he had, and he’s become addicted.

He comes home late again. It’s the dead of night when he steps inside, silently closing the door and moving through the house. His gaze falls on you first—asleep on the sofa. And then Megumi, curled up against you. The sight evokes something so strongly possessive in him that he almost stumbles, hand curling into a fist in the back of the sofa. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re gonna kill me.

He wants to scoop you both up, drop Megumi off in his bed, and then carry you straight up to his room. Instead he clears his throat, reaching down to touch your shoulder.

“Hey, I’m home. Let’s get you to the guest room, yeah?”