#and i can’t decide which sweater to buy

[fitsinthepalm]

[sweethischier]

Now we need dad / husband Nico headcannons. ☹️

i am so bad at these i’m sorry but i did my best 😭

Husband!Nico who can’t help but steal you away during your wedding reception for a few moments lone.

Husband!Nico who wakes up earlier than you on the first day of your honeymoon just to make you breakfast after your tiring night ;)

Husband!Nico who uses any chance he can get to refer to you as his wife or ‘Mrs. Hischier’.

Husband!Nico who never stops trying to win you over even though you’re married.

Husband!Nico who can’t help but look down at his ring and smile every once in a while because he married the love of his life.

Husband!Nico who cries tears of excitement when you find out you’re pregnant.

Husband!Nico who never stops telling you how beautiful you are, especially when you feel your lowest during the pregnancy.

Husband!Nico who waits on you hand and foot any chance he gets to ensure you’re not stressing yourself too much while you’re carrying the baby.

Husband!Nico who booked it straight home during a game when he got the call you were having contractions.

Dad!Nico who can’t stop staring and holding his newborn baby.

Dad!Nico who balances a baby carrier and all three bags when you leave the hospital so you don’t have to carry anything.

Dad!Nico (and mom!reader) who made sure their baby had the safest possible equipment in their home.

Dad!Nico who makes sure he’s picking up as much parenting slack as he possibly can so neither of you get too overwhelmed.

Husband!Nico who can’t stop thinking about you and the way you look holding your baby.

Dad!Nico who nonstop brags to his friends and teammates about his baby.

Dad!Nico who stays by the glass where you and the baby are nearly all of warmups.

Dad!Nico who doesn’t let anyone else (minus you) hold the baby during family skate.

Dad!Nico who buys him and his baby matching Kith sweaters and shoes.

Dad!Nico who nearly cries teaching his baby to skate for the first time.

Dad!Nico who takes a million pictures of you holding the baby and can’t decide on which one to make his lock-screen so he creates a carousel of them.

Dad!Nico who jumps around the house when he hears the baby say “Dad” for the first time.

Husband!Nico who can’t wait to expand your family 🫣

[emptyultimatum]

SWEATER WEATHER

Avenger AU Loki x fem!reader In which Loki and his girlfriend (you) clash cutely over weather-appropriate clothing.

Loki raised his arms above his head, the shoulders in his scarred back rippling with muscles. His shirt lay on the floor, stripped off and sweaty from his work out. Facing the window, admiring the view of New York, he groaned as he stretched, pulling, reaching. Crrck, pop, crack! 

“Ah, that feels better,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders to settle them. He shook his black curls out of his bun, pulling the hair tie onto his wrist absently. “Darling, where are you?” 

She slid into the room, beaming absurdly at him, arms spread wide. “Look at my sweater.” 

It was July, and a heatwave was rocking New York with a vengeance. Signs sagged in the heat; cars were dangerous to the touch; the sun bounced off glass buildings with such aggression, Loki felt as if his eyes were being burned alive. Thank Odin for sunglasses, which he wore regularly. 

And despite this all, his girlfriend decided to buy a sweater. An overlarge, shapeless, lumpy grey sweater, which had sleeves so long they flopped over her hands like bunny ears. 

“You can’t be serious,” Loki said, staring at the sweater. 

She grinned. “I’m so serious. It’s so comfy.” 

She did look comfy. Absurdly comfy, in fact. The kind of comfy that winter and hot chocolate and fireplaces heralded. And the way that the tops of her thighs stuck out from the bottom, round and plump… He felt a strong urge to pull her onto the bed and cuddle into her for the next week or so. 

But then Loki remembered the hundred-two degree high they were predicted to reach today. 

“Take it off,” he said. “You’re going to melt.” 

“Tony can pay for AC,” she waved him off, bouncing to the thermostat and cranking it low. “Ahh. I love it.” 

He gave her a disbelieving chuckle. “You’re utterly ridiculous. It’s the height of summer, darling, and you bought a sweater.” 

“That’s the best time!” she argued. “Off-season sales! I got this for thirty bucks.” 

“Thirty bucks?” 

“The original price was fifty-eight,” she said stubbornly. 

Loki prayed to his mother. “At least put it in storage until the proper climate arrives.” 

“That’s in months,” she waved him off, sweater sleeve flapping. “I wanna wear it now.” 

“Of course you do.”

“We should make hot chocolate. I’m in a hot chocolate mood.” 

“Naturally, in summer, hot chocolate is a must-have.” 

“And watch Frozen!” 

“This must be some sort of joke,” he pleaded. “What insanity drove you to this? It’s a damn ninety-eight degrees!” 

She cackled. “I like sweaters.” 

“You don’t even wear them!” Loki cried. 

“Now I do!” She climbed into their bed, snuggled under the covers. The AC was properly blasting now, sending cold gusts of air down his sweaty, post-gym skin. She patted the space beside her, smiling up at him. “Come cuddle. It’s cold.” 

“And they call me the Mad One,” he muttered, climbing into the bed. She giggled, putting her arms around him, snuggling him into her chest. 

“Perfect,” she sighed. 

Perfect indeed, Loki smiled into her sweater, feeling its soft fibers tickling his cheek. She was warm, soft, and plush. The perfect place to rest his head, to ease his worries. 

They lay silently together, hearts beating in sync, the summer sun gleaming through their window as the AC pumped cold air into the room. She sighed, pleased, snuggled in her sweater. 

“We do have a mission brief in a few moments,” Loki murmured. 

“I know,” she said. 

“And you’re going to wear the—”

“I’m going to wear the sweater.” 

Loki hid his smile in her chest. “We’d best alert Stark, then, so he might prepare the room temperature for you in advance.” 

“How considerate,” she smiled. “You’d do that for me?” 

“Darling, I’d freeze the world twice over if you wished for snow.” 

She beamed at him, pure and unabashed joy. “Well, it’s a good thing I only want you.” 

Loki’s heart fizzled, his skin tingling with the closeness of her. 

“And hot chocolate,” she added. 

He laughed, and brought her in for a kiss. 

[suosgirl]

Keeping It Cute (& Dangerous) - Hayato Suo x Reader | Ch. 1

Word Count: 2644

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nirei, Taiga Tsugeura, Mitsuki Kiryu

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers (?), blood, broken bones, harassment, misunderstandings, violence, fighting, grief, loss of a loved one, swearing, ptsd – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: Hi! Ah – my first work! Ever since watching and reading Wind Breaker, I can’t stop imagining the idea of them running to stop a fight – only to find out it’s a strong, tough girl who’s ready for all the smoke (incredibly self-indulgent, as you can see). I plan to create 4 parts to this, so this is currently in the works!

୨ৎ Keeping it Cute (& Dangerous) Masterlist

Were you … okay with getting beat up by this gang? You considered it — genuinely. Perhaps, to love is to feel pain? For every punch they get in, you could take that chance to stare into their eyes. Every throw could be interpreted as a passionate hug. Every kick an extreme game of footsie.

“Looks like even pretty girls like you need to be taught a lesson,” his gruff voice spits out. He does his best to look intimidating, but all it garners from you is a low chuckle and a roll of your eyes. You throw your hair in a bun – tight and secure, before gently removing your jewelry.

You can feel the worried eyes of onlookers staring straight at you as you drop your bag on the ground - the soft thud causing the tension in the air to thicken. Pushing the sleeves of your sweater up to your bicep, you assess his frame. He’s 5’5, which would be useful for him if he knew how to use that to his advantage – but you highly doubted that his mind was as calculating as yours.

Although he seemed to have a good idea of how to position himself for a fight, you could see the uneasiness behind his actions. He kept glancing down at his hands as if deciding whether or not they were placed correctly. His legs were subtly swaying as he tried to ground his weight. It was clear – he was an amateur.

“I’d really love to see you try,” you say, tilting your head to the side with a smile on your face – if this wasn’t an invitation, you don’t know what is. 

And you were hoping that he would take you up on that offer.

You’d been trailing him since you caught him trying to take an up-skirt photo of you a couple of stores down the street. Idiot, you thought bitterly, the safety shorts underneath proved to have been a smart choice when you dressed for the day. But… the fact that you had to even prepare for situations like this by dressing “appropriately” made the annoyance you felt bloom into anger. 

When you noticed his actions, you immediately grabbed his wrist in a tight hold – your manicured nails digging into the soft skin. 

Although the store wasn’t packed, you didn’t want to bring attention to the situation. This wasn’t your first time experiencing a degenerate like this, and you weren’t sure if it would even garner a response from anyone around you.

You were used to dealing with this on your own. This time would be no different.

“I was just in here to buy some pens -you perv,” you muttered as your eyes flashed dangerously into his. You could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead and the slight quiver of his bottom lip.

Pathetic. Did he really think you wouldn’t notice his constant presence behind your back, or the fact that the brightness of his screen allowed for a clear view of the camera app he was on?

As a result of your grip, he had dropped his phone. You grabbed it before standing up, making sure to scan his camera roll for any other indecent pictures and permanently deleting them before shoving it back into his chest - a firm grip still holding him close to you. 

You pulled him even closer, forcing him to bend down a bit so that you could speak in his ear.

“Cut that shit out,” you said softly, but the warning was still there. The grip on his wrist was tightened even more - and you were sure that if you were to look down, you’d see small spots of red forming underneath your nails. 

Once released, he simply scoffed as if you had inconvenienced him, and stormed out of the store. 

You had thought that was the end of it and continued on with your shopping. But, as you made your way down the street, you saw him in another store doing the same thing to another unsuspecting victim. 

Sighing, you waited until he left the store to confront him - but he was fast and efficient as he weaved his way through the foot traffic on the street. 

Eventually, you were able to catch up to him - with a firm kick to the back of his knees.

That all leads to the present — you’re surprised by how quickly the once bustling street has cleared out. But, you notice warily that you’re not alone. The people of the town are watching you, and you’re not sure why.

You can faintly hear the whisper of someone on the phone, and you’re just able to make out “…come here now…” before the street falls silent. 

“I’d better get started before those Bofurin punks get over here,” the man sneers, and you cock your head to the side in confusion. 

You knew that moving to a new town would require some adjustment, but it was your first time hearing the name — Bofurin. Were they another gang? You’d heard about the rumors of the violence that occurred in the town of Makochi and their dislike for outsiders, so you were always careful to keep your head down and your responses to a minimum when you were outside of your apartment.

“Bo-who?” you try to ask, but the man has already started charging towards you, his right arm raised above his head and his hand in a tight fist.

You take in his fast approach and easily sidestep him. 

“Oh… you’ve never been in a fight, have you?” you taunt, faux concern on your face as he stumbles to a stop and whips back around to face you in confusion.

“Lucky break,” he huffs out, spitting on the ground next to him before raising his fists again.

You nod in agreement, though your eyes tell a different story. They’re narrowed and icy, observing every little move he makes. 

“You’re probably right… why don’t you try again?”

That gets a reaction out of him - he charges again, somehow even faster than before, but this time you race to meet him halfway. He goes to punch for your head, but you’re faster — immediately ducking under his arm and instead getting a good hold underneath his armpit and shoulder as you swing your body onto his back. You use the momentum of your run to raise your legs up and around his neck, crossing them at the ankles behind his head.

He stumbles under the sudden weight and desperately tries to grab at your back to get you off. 

Lucky break my ass, you think bitterly.

With your legs tight around his neck, you let go of the grip in your hands, bracing your core and swinging yourself around again before ultimately using that same momentum to flip him over and throw him to the ground on his back.

You’re not dumb — this definitely won’t be enough to render him unconscious. But, with so many witnesses, you’re afraid to do any serious damage. You didn’t want to get driven out of another town again because of your violent streak, and while it was simple to fight one-on-one with a weak opponent, you weren’t keen on pushing your luck with a whole gang. 

So, ultimately, you decide that this is a good enough scare for the poor guy — because you were capable of doing so much worse. You leisurely walk up to his gasping form, all the air in his lungs effectively pushed out when he landed flat on his back.

Looking down, you can see the fear in his eyes and the pain on his face. You note the way his body tenses and the way his fingers shake once you crouch down closer to him — as if he was willing for his body to move but simply didn’t have the strength to do so. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” you ask — but this time you drop the facade. No smiles, no taunting — your question is direct and your face is devoid of emotion. 

You were giving him an out — any fool could see that. But this guy just simply couldn’t take the blow to his ego, and you felt exasperated when he answered with, “What lesson, bitch?”

Figures.

You tutted your tongue as you stood up. Fine, to hell with the people and the town and the Bofurin gang. You could move towns — you’d done it once, you could do it again. But this guy — he needed a rude awakening and you were more than happy to serve it to him on a silver platter. It’s what your brother would’ve done anyway– that thought reassures you.

“I see,” you sneer, “In that case, I’d love to do a crash course with you, motherfuc-“

“Oi — what’s going on here?”

Damnit. You were really looking forward to beating this guy down — but now you have to admit defeat and retreat because no way are you taking on a whole gang by yourself. 

“Do you … need some help?” the voice presses on, and you feel your body heat up at the mere question.

No way – did this guy have backup? Perverts stick together, you suppose.

When you turn to face the unknown voice, you’re surprised it’s only a group of 5 guys. 

Right away, you note that this group couldn’t possibly be with the man currently gasping by your feet – if the way he’s trying to inch away is anything to go by.

Still … you warily take in their appearance and note the matching uniforms that they have on. Do gangs in Makochi wear uniforms? Is that, like — a thing? Also — why are they so … good looking?

For a split second, your brain fizzles out. You are, after all, just a girl.

Were you … okay with getting beat up by this gang? You considered it — genuinely. Perhaps, to love is to feel pain? For every punch they get in, you could take that chance to stare into their eyes. Every throw could be interpreted as a passionate hug. Every kick an extreme game of footsie.

You size them up again, this time not as threats but instead as potential love interests. 

They’re all fairly taller than you — perfect. 

Muscular and strong? Seemingly so.

Great personalities? Um.

You would have to put a pin on that one.

Your eyes are immediately drawn first to the one with pink hair and a brightly patterned shirt. The piercings on his face make you blush – they look so good on him that it quite literally takes your breath away. The way his hair is clipped back makes you wonder what other hairstyles he’s capable of doing – and, as an afterthought, you wonder if his hair smells as good as he looks.

The next one is tall, with his orange hair secured by a white fabric headband. You note his wrist wraps and the kneepad on his leg, as well as the slippers he has on. What kind of fighting does this guy do? His face, though, strikes you as good-natured – and now you’re confused because what is a guy like this doing in a gang? 

You breeze over this minor question and move on to the next. This guy — whoa. Black and white hair split down the middle, with heterochromia eyes. This guy is so cool. But his face is all — pink? Maybe it’s a skin condition? And he’s in a gang too? You begin to worry about his health – unaware of the exasperated looks he’s throwing at you.

He says something to you. Was this the guy who spoke up earlier? You’re way too deep in your thoughts to register anything he said. You do notice, however, that his eyes are still on yours. 

Is it — is it you? Is there something on your face? For a split second, you worry about your complexion — completely forgetting the fact that you have the body of a wheezing man laid out on the ground next to you.

Slightly behind him, you notice a guy with blonde hair and worried eyes. Like a golden retriever — cute. Weird though, this one seems more frantic than the others. Maybe he’s just joined their gang? You ponder on this as your eyes flit to the next person in line and — 

Oh. Oh.

Who is he? One eye is covered by an eye patch — the visible one, though, is warm brown in color and painted with curiosity. Your gaze follows down his long tassel earrings to his calm smile, and you’re pretty sure that your eyes have glazed over.

The lights are on but nobody’s home.

Him — I want to be pummeled by him. 

“What’s your problem? Hello? Helloooo?”

“Maybe she’s not talking … on purpose? Is it a strategy?”

“... I don’t think that’s it, Nire-kun.”

The cherry blossoms surrounding your vision and the romantic tune playing in the back of your mind come to a screeching stop. 

Monologue = stopped. 

Dreams = shattered. 

You flush at the realization that you’d probably been staring at them for a good minute or two — in complete silence. If the ground were to swallow you up at that moment, you’d gladly let it happen. No way in a thousand years did you ever think that you’d stop mid-fight to daydream about your opponents. 

You can almost feel the flick against your forehead that your brother undoubtedly would’ve done – along with his nagging about not being focused and present during a fight.

God, what is this town doing to you?

You blink your eyes back into focus and your lips part as you draw in a quick breath to quip back, ”I’m BUSY right now — I can’t FIGHT you until I educate this guy firs-“

“BEHIND YOU, HE-,“ the blonde one yells out frantically, finger-pointing at the shadow that just breached your peripheral vision.

Damn.

You’re immediately pulled into a chokehold, one of his arms wrapped tight around your neck, and the other holding your head in place. 

From the close proximity, the man is just barely able to hear you muttering under your breath.

“What was that darling? You askin' for forgiveness?” he laughs out, his hold tightening even more and his spit hitting the back of your ear.

You can see that the Bo-something guys are moving towards you, but that infuriates you. How dare they join forces with this pervert to attack one single girl? No way were you letting that happen — not on your life. 

You would rather die than let a man get the satisfaction of beating you. 

You reach your arms up, locking your fingers behind his neck. Just for shits and giggles, you dig your nails hard into the soft skin, leaving red-dotted crescent marks in your wake.

“I said I wasn’t done TALKING!” you yell, before swinging your legs up and bringing them down fast to plant your feet square on the ground. The momentum causes him to stumble and loosen his grip around your neck and head, and with the strength in your thighs and your arms and good ol’ gravity, you flip him again.

He lands flat on his back once more, and you take that chance to finish him off — by slamming your foot down onto his hand. The same hand that started this whole ordeal. The hand that, at that moment, you decided would serve as his lifetime reminder of the consequences of his actions. 

You hear his yowls of pain before you feel the give in his wrist. 27 bones are in the human hand — you had to have broken at least one. You release your foot, and he immediately curls into a fetal position — his hand limp and hanging from his wrist as he cradles it into his chest.

Correction — you definitely broke more than one.

You glance up and see that all 5 guys have stopped in their tracks, varying levels of shock displayed on their faces.

No more games and no more daydreaming – it was time to get serious.

You drop into a fighting stance, your arms raised and your hands in fists. You crack your neck and roll back your shoulders, a dangerous smile on your lips.

“Who’s next?”

-

୨ৎ Chapter 2

[munsster]

Hiiiiiiii loved your Eddie munson x wealthy!reader fix, I was wondering if you could do a billy Hargrove one? Thank you bby💗

billy with a wealthy s/o

A/N: its 100% giving reluctant allies to lovers gif cred: @selinasdalton

Warnings: partying, drinking/smoking, insults (mostly playful), pet names (sweetheart), implied sex

the FIRST thing i thought of was reader rolling with the popular crowd

ie harrington, tommy, carol etc

and seeing billy for the first time at a party

honestly, he probably offers you a drink or better yet a smoke

and you’re disgusted (horny)

and he thinks he’s totally gonna score (you accepted his drink offer)

neither of you really remember how or when it started

you can never agree on an anniversary date

but you both know he fell first

mainly because he was absolutely floored by just how many insults you had ready in your back pocket

“the ball goes in the basket, airhead” “you look like rob lowe if he was a woman and a munch” “my dog could sink more free throws than you and he’s 20 years old”

honestly, he was a little flattered by your creativity

which is why he knew he had to get in your pants somehow

and the first time you invited him over to your house, you wouldn’t hear the end of it

“hey, richie rich, where’s your robot maid?”

“oh, it’s her day off”

“…”

“i’m kidding,” you tease, “she’s not a robot”

he does not know how to handle the amount of shit you spoil him with

“billy… i really like your necklace”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“i can buy you a new—”

“i dont need a new one, sweetheart”

and you don’t know how to handle the fact that he doesn’t want to be spoiled

but you eventually figure out how to be sneaky with it

making him lunches (con caviar), ‘accidentally’ misplacing his shoes so you have to buy him new ones, taking him to fancy barbershops and paying half the cost so it still seems like he’s paying the full price

some may say it’s manipulative. you say it’s loving.

and the first time he buys you a meaningful, mildly expensive gift, you tear up a little bit

you bringing him to the golf course and finding out 1) he’s really good at golf and 2) he is excellent cougar bait

not that you want the over 60’s hitting on your man, but it’s very sweet when they send him drinks and call him a handsome young man

you definitely encourage him to play into it with some “how are you young ladies this evening?” and “don’t you have to be 21 to sit at the bar?” action

he has his fun with it, but he really only does it ‘cause it makes you smile

would never BEG for anything…. but he DOES get really sad when you don’t bring him to the mall to watch you try on shoes or sweaters or whatever.

yeah, if there’s something he’d beg for, it’s that

he lives for the moment you walk out of the dressing room, do a twirl, and ask (like clockwork) “do you like it?”

his answer is always yes, but you claim to know the differences in his tone that indicate what he actually likes

sometimes, if he’s lucky, you’ll let him sit inside the dressing room. watching you change. watching you change.

he is the reason you’re both banned from sears at starcourt

the first really expensive watch you gift him is INSANE

it has like four dials and you said something about alligator leather and 18 carat gold

he can’t decide between wearing it on special occasions to preserve its value or never taking it off because he loves you

when you do stay at his house, usually no ones home

but you have met max

and she likes to stay away from you

but you took her to get a new skateboard and you think that might’ve helped her warm up to you

just a smidge

now she lets you gossip about stupid boys and watch shitty action movies with her

she even promised she would go as croft’s robin for halloween if you swore you’d go as wilson’s batman

that was an interesting halloween for billy

your mansion house has this shiny ass gramophone in one of the downstairs offices

and you told billy that the last thing that had played on it was a glenn miller ‘best of’ album

and that was just not good enough for billy

so one night, he brought over his twisted sister vinyl and convinced you to dance with him while what you don’t know blasted through the brassy pavillon

he also may or may not have convinced you to make out with him while the rest of the record played

even though you drive a brand new, cherry red benz (convertible, he might add), you still love it when he drives the two of you in his camaro

but you also let him drive your car whenever he wants. and he wants to most of the time.

in fact, he’s pretty sure he drives your car more than you do

he also loves to let you dress him up

and do his hair (please practice that cute hairstyle you saw on him. he’ll think about your hands in his hair for hours on end)

even if youre just going on a chill diner date, you still drag him into your (now shared) walk-in closet and pick out these satin shirts and pressed slacks and the shiniest shoes he’s ever seen

but of course, most of your dates are lavish and breathtakingly creative, anyway, so he’s already dressed accordingly

his new catch phrase is something along the lines of “what happened to eating somewhere normal. like pizza hut”

sometimes, his only requirement is “as long as there’s no chandelier”

you flatter him so often, he gets grumpy on days you forget to call him handsome (or pretty boy, which has really grown on him)

typically, he wouldnt go for all the fuss and feathers, but he likes to see you happy.

and boy, does prettying him up make you happy

seriously, you get the wildest look on your face. it’s fulfilling enough that billy feels safe to say he’s content being your ken doll forever

if you’d let him

masterlist

[bumblebugwrites]

Borrowed and Blue

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: In another brilliant plot to keep the agency afloat, Lockwood decides to marry you for tax benefits. Only he seemed to have forgotten to let you know. With an inspector from DEPRAC coming to ensure the legitimacy of your marriage, what’s left but to tell you the truth? Only you don’t take it too well. And you happen to be the world’s worst liar.

Warnings: Cursing, Minor angst, Unedited writing.

A/N: So “Lover” coded that I had to indulge myself with the title.

Word Count: 3.1k 

“Luce, I’ll need you to go to Satchell’s and pick some salt-bombs; we’ve been running pretty low lately. And George, once you’ve hit the Archive for the day, if you could–”

As Lockwood’s incessant directions continued, you allowed your head to slump forward so as to obscure his looming figure with the shape of the quickly cooling mug in your hands.

“Oh, and that reminds me (Y/N), the inspector’s coming round this afternoon to ensure the validity of our marriage, so I’ll need you to be prepared for that.” That sentence alone was enough to pull you away from your own thoughts.

“Excuse me?” The question was followed by a soft chuckle, the kind you only managed when you’d been caught off guard.

“Did I forget to tell you about the visit?” 

“You’re joking, right?”

Across the small table, George cleared his throat awkwardly, moving to make his escape before Lucy’s sweater-clad arm shot out, pulling him back into his seat, fully enthralled with the happenings before her.

“Lockwood?” From his place at the counter, he hummed back in response. Still, the brunet had busied himself at an unprecedented pace with making a piece of toast and refused to turn his head in acknowledgment.

“This is a joke, right? Because I would know if we were actually married, right?” He made no answer, but his avoidance of your gaze had already been enough to send you over the edge, and you nearly reeled as a physical spike of panic shot through your core.

“Anthony Lockwood, you answer me right now.” You were standing now and teetering on the edge of making your way out into the entry and returning with some choice words and your rapier.

“Well, it’s not like you missed the marriage. I did bring you along.”

“What?”

“You remember that day I brought you with me to the Register Office?”

“You said you needed someone to co-sign the water bill.”

“I gave you a ring–”

“You said you got that out of one of those coin machines full of toys! I thought it was just a silly gift!”

“Right, well, I’m not buying you another wedding ring, so you had better still have it.”

“Lockwood! You can’t just marry someone without asking!” By now, you had left your seat to jab angrily at his chest as you marked each new point. From her place beside George, Lucy slurped at her tea.

“Look, I had already mortgaged the house to hell and back, and we needed the money desperately, so I figured an extra tax write-off couldn’t hurt.” And though it shouldn’t have, the rage quelled itself a little.

“Why didn’t you just ask me?” But your voice lacked the anger from before, hitting sharper as each word was tinged with hurt.

“You would have said no. And besides, you’re a terrible liar.” Lockwood flashed you with his signature smile at that last bit, and you couldn’t help the warmth that began to bloom deep within you. You had to admit, being married to Lockwood wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Especially with the insufferable feelings you’d been housing for the boy for the last year and a half. Still, this was not how you wanted things to go. 

“But wait, that trip to the Register’s Office was at least a year ago. Why are they coming for a visit now?” One of Lockwood’s hands which had planted itself on your shoulder in a soothing gesture, leapt up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“Well, the thing is, because we aren’t legally adults and neither of us have any parents to sign off on a marriage, I had to pull some strings with DEPRAC to get the license to even go through. So now, every year, to make sure everything is all legal, or whatever–” Lockwood raised his hands to form air quotes around the word legal but quickly retracted them as you swatted at the gesture.

“--they’ve insisted on sending an agent to perform a kind of check-in. To make sure we’re still in love and all that.”

“Still?” George questioned, only to be met with a prompt smack to the head from Lucy.

“So are you saying we could lose our jobs over this?”

“Let’s not forget the house,” supplied Lucy from behind her mug.

“And the house?” Lockwood didn’t answer immediately, instead selecting to fix his eyes on the floor.

“Presumably, yes, that could be one outcome–”

“Oh my god,” George groaned, moving his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“But not if all goes well,” Lockwood reassured the group.

“Right, so let me get this straight, the fate of our careers–”

“And our home,” Lucy interjected once more.

“And our home, is all in the hands of (Y/N), a notoriously bad liar, lying to a Fittes agent about a marriage she was unaware of until this morning?” George questioned.

“That would be correct.”

“We are so fucked.”

It had taken Lucy an hour to calm you down, let alone lure you out from under the covers of your shared bed. 

“I’ll kill him if you’d like me to.”

“Urgh, it’s not that, Luce, it’s just–” 

“It’s just that you wanted things to go differently?” Lucy raised a suggestive eyebrow as a slow smirk spread across her face, but there was no malice in her look. Embarrassed, you turned to hide your face in the pillow beside you.

“Look, Lockwood’s a twat, but he cares about you, and I’m sure if you asked, he would end the whole thing in a second. He was just, well, I hate to say it, but he was just trying to look out for us. In his own, extremely fucked up Lockwood way.” Lucy added the last sentence in a quick attempt to amend the ever-souring scowl on your face.

“And hey, who knows, maybe something will finally come out of this. I mean, you have to admit, being married is pretty romantic.” She smiled at you, and it was soft, encouraging almost.

“Besides, it’s not like the two of you weren’t going to end up together anyways. If anything, he’s just streamlined the process.” With that, you tightened your grasp on the pillow, swinging it in a deadly arc aimed at her head. Just then, a third voice interrupted your siege.

“Oh, hi Luce, mind if I have a quick word with my wife?” 

Your eyes grew wide as they took in Lockwood’s lanky figure, leaning with ease against the railing at the head of the stairs.

“Too soon, Lockwood,” you grumbled, and for a moment, the suave smirk didn’t reach his eyes. Still, he moved slowly into the room as Lucy made her exit, throwing you a thumbs up as she descended from out of the attic.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, careful not to crush your legs beneath the covers, he appeared almost nervous before his hand disappeared into his pocket and rematerialized, holding a small velvet box.

“This is for you.” He smiled to himself, sweet and boyish, as he was in moments like these. Moments with just you two. As you moved to take the box from his grasp, his fingers touched yours, lingering against them for just a second before pulling away.

The box was old. That much was immediately obvious. And the hinges keeping it together were rusty enough to make opening it a bit of an effort, but when the lid lifted, your breath caught in your throat.

“Oh, Lockwood, it’s beautiful.” You sat in awe of the small ring nestled within the box’s velvet folds. It was simple but elegant, with a single gem at its center, and you couldn’t help but reach out to trace the smooth metal of its shank.

“Where did you–”

“It was my mothers.” His voice was vulnerable, barely above a whisper.

“Lockwood, I can’t–”

“It’s fine, really. Besides, it's just for today.” But you could see the stress the simple action caused him from the way he toyed with the wedding band now looped around his own finger.

 “Anyways, I really just came up here to go over the plan.” 

“The plan?” You balked, eyes snapping away from the heirloom in your hands.

“Yes, we need a story, of course. How we fell in love, how we came to be married. You should know our wedding anniversary as well. April 14th, remember that.”

“April 14th? But that’s today.”

“And?”

“I– I haven’t gotten you anything.”

“Well, it's not like this is a real marriage.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I’m thinking we say I fell in love first, then you. Women love that sort of thing–”

“No, no, we should say we’ve been in love since the moment we met,” you argued, thinking of your own feelings.

“Well, that’s not very realistic.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn– can’t be true.”

“I suppose so.”

“Maybe we should both just think of our own moment. When we fell in love with the other.” Lockwood seemed suddenly to choke on air but quickly coughed his way past it.

“Great idea.”

“We can say you proposed on a bridge overlooking the Thames,” you suggested, but Lockwood only scoffed at the idea.

“Actually, I was thinking we could say it happened on a mission. Maybe you were hurt, and I was afraid I might lose you forever. That when I realized you were alright, I asked you to marry me on the spot. That I didn’t see the point in wasting any more time on anyone else.”

Your mouth grew dry at his suggestion, and the best you could attempt was a meek nod in response.

“Perfect,” he stood quickly, as though brushing off the intimacy of the moment, and began to head for the stairs, “I’ll leave you to finish getting ready then.” By the time you’d managed to grasp your words, he had disappeared from your line of sight, leaving you alone with your thoughts and his mother’s ring. 

You were descending the stairs when the knock came, and you felt your hand move to twist anxiously at the ring newly decorating your finger. At the bottom of the stairs, Lockwood turned his head just in time to meet your gaze, the nervous look plastered across his face softening into one of ease. Probably just for show. You reassured yourself, straightening your shoulders as you reached the final step. Just before opening the door, the boy beside you cast some final words in your direction.

“Remember, I’ll do most of the talking.”

You could only nod in response as the door swung open, revealing the DEPRAC agent. She seemed immediately to be a severe woman with a stern look set deep within her face and eyes that scanned each of you suspiciously before entering the home. 

“Is there somewhere you’d prefer for me to conduct my interview.”

“That would be the library,” answered Lockwood, jumping into action, “(Y/N) love, how about you pop the kettle on and maybe grab some biscuits.” 

“Of course.” You smiled, but it was forced, the only mirth in your soul emerging from the sure knowledge that George would have a field day with Lockwood later on for his failure to follow the ‘Biscuit Rule’.

As he departed for the library, guiding the woman along with him, you could already hear the echos of his charming chatter as they bounced off the walls of the home. Everything will be fine, the words looped in a self-soothing mantra, filling every corner of your head as you prayed to any god that would listen to get through this interview in one piece.

“And when would you say you fell in love with Miss. (L/N)?” The woman made no reaction to her question, simply opting to continue scribbling notes on her pad. Thus far, Lockwood had done a successful job of veering most questions away from you, though it would be a miracle if your nerves had gone unnoticed between the incessant bouncing of your leg and your consumption of three separate cups of tea over the span of thirty minutes.

“In love?” Lockwood stuttered beside you, and you and the woman turned simultaneously to inspect him closer, his confident facade nearly shattered at the mention of the word. Still, he recovered rather quickly, retrieving his easy smile only a second later.

“Yes, well, I assume that came before the marriage.”

“Of course. Let’s see, then.” He stopped for a moment as though pondering the question though the movement of his hand as he toyed with his ring confirmed to you he was just nervous. In an action you could only hope appeared natural, you reached over, stilling his fidgeting fingers by lacing them with your own. Lockwood looked suddenly at you, and the quiet crack in his performance showed itself only to your eyes.

“It was six months after we first met. We’d been researching for a big mission all day, and when we finally got home, I passed out. I woke up; it was probably three in the morning by then. Came down to the kitchen for some water and– and there you were, in the library, fast asleep.” Lockwood had long since stopped looking at the inspector. “You were in my armchair. I’d probably seen you in that armchair a thousand times. And you had a case file spread out over your chest. You looked ridiculous. But I knew immediately something had changed. I could feel it as I carried you up to the attic that night and the next morning while I was sat listening to you laugh at George’s stupid jokes. Like those feelings that were just a bit of a bother before were eating me alive. It’s– It’s how I feel every time I look at you: like I’m more afraid than I’ve ever been in my life and yet perfectly at home at the same time.” He was quick to look away when he finished, flashing the DEPRAC agent with a smile and leaving you frozen in the wake of his words, struck by his ability to manipulate the truth.

“Just one more question then. Ms. (L/N), marriage at sixteen that’s not something you see every day. What made you say yes?”

Lockwood’s eyes flashed quickly to your face, but as he opened his mouth, the woman quieted him with a motion of her hand. 

“Not you, Mr. Lockwood. I’d like to hear from Ms. (L/N).”

This had not been within the parameters of your preparation. Lockwood’s favorite color, how he took his tea, the date of your anniversary? Easy breezy. You might have even been able to fumble your way through how you’d fallen in love with the arrogant bastard, given its basis in the truth. But you weren’t really married, and you’d never really said yes, so where did that leave you? And like a saving a grace, a question made itself known in your head. If Lockwood had really asked you, why would you have said yes?

“I suppose I didn’t quite understand the proposal at first either.” That much was true; for fucks sake, you’d missed the thing entirely. “But after a while, it made sense. I mean, not a day goes by we aren’t risking our lives for our work. There’s no guarantee of any future with a job like this, so why not marry young? Otherwise, we might not marry at all.” The second part came out rushed, the lie forcing its way past your lips. It wasn’t in your character to be impulsive, even if time seemed to be your enemy. Still, you forced yourself to delve deeper. To seek a truthful answer to that lingering question. Your breathing slowed.

“And then, one day, I think I realized that for me, it was always going to be Lockwood. That had he asked me five or ten or even twenty years down the line when we were old and boring, I’d of still said yes. Because– Well, because I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.” 

You turned your head slowly to catch Lockwood’s eyes lingering on your face. His expression was unreadable. Your brow creased in your efforts to learn more from the set of his features, and for a moment, you lost yourself in him. 

The woman’s notebook snapped shut. You felt yourself scramble from the loveseat you’d been sharing with the boy, and he followed close behind.

“That’s all from me. The agency will contact you in a few days to follow up, but as far as I’m concerned, you’ve passed.”

Without giving time for the information to be digested, she stood and left. Turning to face Lockwood, you were quick to pull his mother’s ring from your finger and place it in his palm.

“Well, now that that’s finished–”

“(Y/N)--” 

“I’ll be in the attic–”

“(Y/N).”

“Lots of research, probably.”

“How did you do that.” The look on his face was one of disbelief when you finally met his gaze again.

“What?” You knew what.

“You know what. You can’t lie to save your life. How did you–”

“Really don’t see how this is important, Lockwood–”

“Were you telling the truth?” You were silent for a moment.

“You got us into this. I could’ve– I would’ve stayed silent forever, but you had to come up with another insufferable plot. And I’m sorry, I can’t lie like it’s some sort of second language– That was quite good, by the way, the way you made me feel– made it seem like there was some chance in hell that you loved me back–”

He dragged you in all at once, catching you by the waist and interrupting your scattered thoughts with his lips. Kissing you. Soft at first, but deeper, harder, as you brought your hands up to his neck. As you kissed back. By the time he pulled away, you were breathless.

“It was never– I was never– God if I thought I could lie my way through this, I would’ve asked George or Lucy even. It had to be you because– because it was always real with you. I have loved you ever since I met you. That night in the library only confirmed it.”

“I thought that was unrealistic.”

“Maybe for someone who's never been in love with you.”

“Ask me again if I’ll marry you.”

“Again?” His eyebrows raised at the implication that there had been a first time.

“Just do it, you twat.”

“(Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?”

“A million times yes, Anthony Lockwood. A million times, yes.”

[strawberrywinter4]

May 8 | Prompt: Hobby

“You look horrendous.”

Sherlock’s words thrash Greg’s daze, and he turns to the detective to make sure he heard correctly. “What?”

“I said you look horrendous,” Sherlock repeats, eyes not leaving his device.

Greg holds a scowl, his eyes flickering down to the floor. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

It’s odd that Sherlock would even mention anything other than the case they are currently glued to. They are about to question the suspect that is being brought by other enforcers. In the mean time, Sherlock and Greg have slipped into a peaceful silence in two uncomfortable chairs just outside in the hall. Only now it’s not so peaceful and Sherlock has brought that upon them through insults.

“What I’m trying to make you understand is that you obviously haven’t slept properly in the past week,” Sherlock observes. “When you and your wife were together, that was never an issue.”

Greg has to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Mm.”

“Sherlock,” John hisses as he comes toward them with two coffee cups. “You can’t just say that out of nowhere.”

“Oh, please, John. You were informing me of that viewpoint just last night,” Sherlock says.

Greg’s jaw drops open as he looks between the two men, Sherlock impassive and John embarrassed. “Oh, I see how it is, then!” he says, crossing his arms. “You two just want to have a laugh so you decide to think of ways to gossip.”

“No, Greg. That’s not what this is,” John argues calmly, sending a glare to Sherlock which he ignores. He hands the coffee to Greg, and Greg’s about to deny it in stubbornness before he gets a whiff of the warm goodness. Instead of turning his nose up at it, he takes it, mumbling a ‘thank you’ in the process. “I was only saying that you seemed off, mate,” continues John. “You’ve been digging yourself in cases and that isn’t like you. We’re just worried, is all.”

Greg sighs, his tenseness dissipating. “I know. I’m sorry for snapping, it’s just—”

“It’s fine,” says John, taking a seat next to him. “But…you know, my suggestion is that you find an activity you enjoy or something. Get your mind off work for a while.”

“I second that,” Donovan pipes up when walking towards them. “You look awful, Greg.”

“Yes, thank you,” Greg grits out.

“When you feel up to it, get home, look on the internet,” Donovan instructs. “Trust me, I’m sure you can find a hobby, no matter how weird.”

And Greg does just that. After the case, he heads to his flat and takes a long nap, it nearing 5AM. Once he’s woken up and somewhat refreshed, he scrolls on his laptop.

The first suggestion that pops up is gardening. He could do that.

He sets up a little string of seeds in a row of dirt just outside his balcony. He had asked the man at the shop which seeds he recommended, and the kind man sent him off with various different seeds.

“I’ll name you Toby,” Greg says as he plants a seed he doesn’t know the name of. This should be simple enough.

The plants are short lived when Greg buys a hose and puts it at the wrong setting when watering the plants. It’s at the highest setting and when he turns it on, the weight of the water knocks the wooden bucket of plants off, sending them flying down his balcony. He winces when he hears them crash on a car below, the vehicle honking. Greg rushes inside, trying to ignore the loud cursing that the owner of the vehicle provides.

“How about knitting?” Molly suggests a few days later. “Always calms me.”

“Okay,” Greg considers. “I’ll knit something for you.”

Molly smiles shyly. “I’d love that.”

That activity is short lived as well. Greg can’t hold his frustration for one moment as he constantly pokes himself, gets lost with the tutorial on YouTube, and all in all, the supposed sweater turns out to be a bundle of false direction.

Greg puts the attempted knitting project on the counter in front of Molly.

Molly smiles in pity. “It’s a start.”

“No, it’s shit.” Greg sighs, wishing he could glare at himself. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” says Molly. “How about you find something a little more simple? Something that doesn’t require a set of rules.”

Donovan suggests a hiking trail outside of London. Greg can do that. He can absolutely do that.

“Fuck!” Greg curses when tripping on another long set of weeds. A family passes him, sending him horrified expressions. Greg huffs, sweat dripping down his back. “Yeah, why don’t you take a picture while you’re at it.”

He doesn’t know how Donovan recommended this with such ease, as if it’s the simplest activity in the world. So far, Greg has received numerous scars on his ankles due to sharp ends of rocks and vines, he’s cursed every minute he’s walked (he’s sure he will get kicked out of the park soon), and dizziness from the heat has taken over.

Once back home, he flops on his bed, rolling himself up in blankets. He’s not good at anything. Nothing is for him. Greg shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. Either he’s shit at all hobbies or he’s meant to suffer as a workaholic.

A week later, his neighbor, Mrs. Sue, knocks on his door. When Greg opens it, she’s holding a grey kitten with bright yellow eyes in her hands. Mrs. Sue sneezes several times, putting on a smile.

“Hi, Greg,” she says a bit timidly, her nose noticeably stuffed. “Uh—well, my sister left me with this and I was wondering if you could sit her for a day, only a day. I need to find some place where they will accept cats because I’m quite allergic.”

“Oh,” Greg says. “I mean—yes, of course. I suppose I could sit for a day. What’s her name?”

“Luna,” Mrs. Sue informs, already handing him the cat. “I’ll be back in the afternoon.”

When she leaves, Greg shuts the door and puts the loudly purring cat down. She rubs against his leg, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

“Well, aren’t you just a cutie,” Greg comments. “C’mon. I’m sure I have some milk. Cats like milk, right?”

The whole day, Luna is nothing but attached to him. When Greg sits, she settles herself on his lap. When Greg does his light workout routine on the floor, she’s under him when he does push ups and on top of him when doing sit-ups. Greg can’t help but laugh. Even after he’s taken a shower, she’s waiting patiently outside the door, looking up at him expectantly.

Afternoon hits and the doorbell rings. Disappointment admittedly looms through Greg, especially when he looks down to see Luna sleeping soundly against his leg.

He opens the door and Mrs. She is holding a box. “Thank you so much, Greg,” she says. “I can take her now. I found a place.”

Greg blinks, and he’s considering giving her back to Mrs. Sue. Maybe it’s for the best.

But when Luna looks up at him with her big yellow eyes, Greg can’t resist.

“Erm…actually,” he starts. “I wouldn’t—y’know, mind keepin’ her.”

Mrs. Sue’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Greg shrugs, “she’s a sweetheart. I would be happy to, actually.”

Mrs. Sue signs in relief. “Thank god. I didn’t even know if the place I visited would have accepted her.” She smiles. “This works out perfectly, Greg, thank you.”

Once she’s gone, Greg sits on his chair and pats his leg. Luna hops up and begins to purr against his chest. “Guess this worked out just fine, hm?” he says as he scratches behind her ear.

Though it isn’t classified as a hobby, Greg finally finds something that keeps him busy and content. Though Luna’s constant mewing and purring can be annoying at times, Greg is delighted to have another pair of soft footsteps on the floorboard. He’s happy to have some noise other than himself in the once quiet space. He’s glad to have something to come home to, something to look forward to.

——

Thanks for reading! I know I haven’t been following with the prompts, but I’m sick at home and actually have some time to write so I thought I’d do this prompt today lol.

Greg is one of my absolute favorite characters and I love, love, love writing him. I stand by that he’s both an impatient and patient man, but that’s okay! He finally found something that makes him happy.

Prompt by @calaisreno Thank you for making this a tradition of sorts. I loved writing this!

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @sherlocknjohn221b @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @mary-johnlocked @bakerstreetbe @curlyjohnlock @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ceceliajupe @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked

[pascallatte]

Angel?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: GQ Germany with PEDRO PASCAL aka him fawning over Y/n over a single this or that.

Date: September 2020

Warnings: none

A/N: I love love love this interview, his voice, his hair, the vibes, HIS SMILE!!! Everything, alsoooooooo probably the last one for 2020 for now next one may be a throwback or we’ll move on to ’21 (most probably). SO everyone, happy reading and tell me what you think!! Love lots x

“Hi, I’m Pedro Pascal I’m here at GQ Germany Cover shoot.” Pedro’s seen sitting in a chair in the set of GQ Germany for this month’s issue. The team decided to get him in to join a quick get-to-know-him-better game, an upgraded version of This or That.

Swimming trunks vs beach shorts

Sucking in a breath when the staff shows him two pictures, ”I would have to go with shorts, because of what I could pull off at my age. Despite the continuous disagreement from someone.”  He smiles.

Sweater vs hoodie

“Hmm I love a sweater though but I really love a hoodie.” Biting his lip, Pedro asks.

“Can any of these be ties?… Really?!” 

“Oh, it has to be absolute. Hmm, this is something me and my girlfriend often debate on, ‘cause she steals most of my tops which makes me buy more but then when I do buy hoodies she tells me to buy sweaters. But since this is my interview hmm…Well alright, hoodie it is. Either way, we take turns using it.” With a very satisfied tone, he explains his side looking at a camera with a small fond smile.

Oberyn Martell vs Din Djarin

Shocked by what he’s been shown, Pedro can only laugh as he responds, “Wow, that is a really hard decision to make.”

“Umm, the armour didn’t work so well for me at the end of Game of Thrones, but it looked amazing,” taking in a breath as the gears in his head takes in the pros and cons of each suit and character.

“That being said the armour in The Mandalorian looks very very good and I'm still alive. So I guess I would have to- you know I can’t I just can’t I cannot betray Oberyn and choose The Mandalorian. But umm let’s just leave it at that being an impossible decision.”

Smart vs traditional watch

“Traditional watch, people who use smart watches are people who can’t tell or read the time. And by people I mean…” Pedro turns to look at the camera and gives it or soon the viewers a knowing look, in hopes that they know what he meant by that.

Fedora vs baseball cap

“Those are my hats!…Oh wow”

“Well clearly since you have a picture of a fedora that belongs to me and a baseball hat that belongs to me… I favour both” he elaborates while raising his hands in a somewhat joking accusatory way to the staff who has asked him to pick one between his favourites. To him, it’s like asking him to pick between things or people he adores.

“I cannot and you cannot make me decide between a fedora and a baseball cap. I love them both equally”

Facial hair or clean shaven

“What? Are you making me choose between clean-shaven or facial hair?” 

“They’re currently showing me two pictures of myself.” He stops for a moment, making his sort of thinking face as he thinks back to 10 or so years ago.

“One that is maybe… 10 years ago, where clean-shaven may have worked.

"Umm, I'm gonna have to go with the very strange patchy facial hair that I am capable of growing on my face.”

Contacts vs glasses

Answering immediately, “Glasses.. what a ridiculous question.” He shakes his head as if telling them the obvious as well as the light tone of his voice.

“Glasses, sticking my own fingers into my eyes? I have yet to cross that threshold.”He continues to shake his head as he explains why he’d chosen it.

Y/n’s sheer 2018 met gala dress or her 2019 white oscars dress

Pedro’s entire face lit up as soon as the staff showed him the choices. “Ohh bot- this is a hard one…I love both of them, and it looks incredible on her,” he emphasizes, adorably staring at the pictures.

Sitting still while continuing to admire his love, “Ahhh would you look at that..."

"She’s beautiful don’t you agree?” Pedro straight away smiles as soon as the staff behind the camera agrees with him.

“The first one makes her look like this mermaid or angel- you know like a fallen angel, just for me, and the other is very- something she would dress herself in with how simple yet elegant it looks. So I would have to go with her Oscars look.”

A voice off cam tells him something that had caught his attention, making his expression turn into shock and amusement, “It’s a wedding dress?! Really?! She wore a wedding dress to the Oscars… hmm” slowly ruffling his hair he sits back after getting a closer look at the picture.

Leather or bomber jacket

“Wow, leather jacket. I have and I think I always will love a leather jacket.” Explaining this with a small smirk that had him explaining his thoughts right after.

“Y/n has bought us a matching pair of these incredible vintage leather jackets and-so basically it’s something that I will never ever lose my interest in.”

Coffee or tea

Nodding his head, he looks straight to the camera, “Coffee. Coffee all the way.” 

Raising his hands up similar to a surrendering position to defend himself, he chuckles before continuing, “It’s not that I don’t like tea but then again coffee is what keeps me up and going other than y/n… who is by the way is also a coffee addict.”

Clasping his hands together, he finalizes, “Coffee, 100%”

"Thank you for watching and click here to subscribe to GQ Germany!"

the dress for reference:

A/n: so I wrongly timed the post of this one, instead of it being posted yesterday at noon it was set to 12 am today haha, never gonna do that again. Anyways if you're reading this thank you and have a nice day ahead of you!!!

Taglist: @benonlinear @t-stark35 @heyitsme-2 @elleeeee21 @holmesstrange @tagakalat @flyestvenustrap @oldermenaremyreligion @cherryred444 @hobiismyhopeu @ilovehotdadsandshit @djarinsstuff @guacala @avengersheart @pukka-latte @lilvampirina @mmkkzz

[thehighpriestess1]

August : 12

Summary : There is more to Gojo than that meets the eyes. Y/n allowed herself to feel loved and tries to keep an open mind.

Pairing : Gojo x y/n

Word count : 10k+

Warning : TW : mention of self harm and sui***e, 18+ only.

Masterlist : Previous

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Picking out clothes with Gojo was not as fun as you had expected. He wanted everything in every color. Everything was too cute to pass on to. His excitement was fair. You had been in a similar place a month ago. This was his time to be a father. You wondered as you watched him look at one overall after another, how excited he would have been if he was there when Keisuke was born. It hurt you that even if you chose to stay there was no photo of Keisuke and Gojo in the hospital. No family photo. In a month Keisuke would be 3 months old, maybe this was the right time to get one. There was still hesitation in your heart about Gojo. But you promised him one month. So for one month you would weaken the barrier just a little. Give Gojo a chance to prove himself. You didn’t know whether you wanted him as your husband though. It was still too soon to decide and there were wounds that would take years to heal. There were many unanswered questions but all of that could wait a month. You were not that oblivious, you could see the tiredness and lack of sleep on his face and you knew your son well enough to know that he does not adjust quickly to new environments. You didn’t bring it up and neither did Gojo which made you wonder that maybe he was a good father or at least meant to be one. But a good father is not always a good husband..right?

You walked over to him and put your arm on his shoulder, “You found anything?”. You asked and looked at the two cashmere sweaters in his hand. Gojo had quite an expensive taste when it came to clothing and it reflected in his choices. In the past two hours he had already bought three matching sets of coats for the three of you to wear. You had never seen this cheesy side of Gojo who wanted to wear matching clothes with his family, who wanted to buy every soft toy that he laid his eyes on. Some toys were even bigger than your son but that didn’t stop him.

“I can’t decide. I want both”. He looked at you helplessly. “Can we please get them both?”. He didn’t have to ask you, you thought. It was his money and he could do whatever he wanted but your heart melted a little every time he did.

You chuckled. “Fine. We can”. Gojo smiled widely and asked the sales associate to pack them both. You had lost count of how many clothes you had bought so far as all the shopping bags were sent straight to the car. Gojo was frivolous when it came to shopping but he was not careless. Each item of clothing was carefully examined. He had gotten a list of fabrics from the daddy and me blog that were best suitable for newborns and he would match the composition with that list. If there was even one material that wasn’t in the list, that item was discarded. Gojo had a whole document about color theory and avoided clothes that might induce anxiety in a two month old. You thought it was all a bit too much but Gojo was a bit too much. 

Of course you didn’t miss the heart eyes of every female associate that you came across. It didn’t bother you, Gojo was an attractive man. His frame stood out amongst the common people, with towering height and muscular frame he became the center of attraction wherever he went and at this point you were used to it. But today he looked especially handsome. He was clad in all black with black trenchcoat. His snowy white hair swayed with every head turn, his skin glowed with every curve of his smile and his lips had never looked this plump. You shook your head before you could get any further with your imagination. Of course it wasn’t a crime to admire your husband, the father of your child but you were hesitant to admit your attraction. 

“What else do we have on the list?”. You asked, looking at Gojo.  Somehow between making breakfast and taking care of Keisuke while you got ready, Gojo had made an elaborate list of things he needed to buy. You had painstakingly reminded him Keisuke did not need a mini car at 

this age. He could barely sit on his own.  

“Before that..”. Gojo trailed off and one of the men brought the same green juice you had this morning in a glass bottle. “..you need this”

You took the bottle in your hand and gave a confused look. “What is this?”.

“It’s good for your anemia. I spoke to Shoko and she suggested this”. 

“But..I had it this morning”. You reminded him.

Gojo nodded. “But we have been shopping for the past two hours so drink a little so you don’t get tired”. 

You stared at the bottle in your hand and then back at Gojo. He was serious. He was serious about this.You had no defense for this. You were tired and felt a little dizzy. You opened the metal cap and took a sip. It didn’t taste bad but it wasn't something you could drink all day. 

"I'm fine Gojo". You rolled your eyes..

"If you say so..Gojo". Gojo smiled and intertwined your hand.

Your breath hitched the moment his fingers locked in with yours. It was so easy. So easy for him to hold your hand like he was the only one who could reach through the walls around you whenever he wanted to. Like the barrier you spent a year building around yourself did not exist for him. 

But the reality was different. Much different. Gojo had been debating on reaching out for you the moment the two of you sat in the car. The fleeting touches on shoulder and arm were not enough for him. He had been itching to hold your hand. Sneaking glances between the two of you. He tried multiple times but you turned away to look at a onesie or a chair. Even now, he looked calm on the surface but on the inside he was going insane. He looked like he was staring into a distance but on the inside he was admiring the feeling of your hand in his. He had waited a year for this and now it felt worth all the pain. Your hand felt warm in his, he gave it a light squeeze and when you didn't pull away his knees almost gave up. He didn't want to let it go ever. He looked away from you to hide the red coating his cheeks. He bit his lip to control the smile on his face. He cleared his throat to stop his words from quivering. His body didn’ feel like his own anymore. Blood rushed to his head making him a little dizzy and his heart was thumping loudly. He wanted more..much more but for now he was content with your hand in his. 

"We should..umm". You spoke first to diffuse the tension. "...see the crib". 

"Right!". Gojo spoke almost immediately and turned towards the store that sold handcrafted cribs. Neither of you spoke on the way to the store. While you were debating your attraction to him, Gojo was going crazy over every single thing, the smell of your perfume, that one loose strand of hair falling across your cheeks, your lips, your eyes..everything was driving him insane. He smiled to himself, just a week ago he lived in a world without you, a colorless and painfull world, and now you were here. Even if you don’t let him near you, even if he has to live with holding just your hand for the rest of his life, he would live happily. 

You walked between rows of exquisite cribs. It was hard to decide on one. You looked at the price tags and before you could even count the zeroes Gojo was already onto the next one.

“This one is made from ebony and is lined with fine silk curtains. It comes with a built-in baby monitor. All handcrafted with gold inlay and one of the ten pieces available worldwide”. The associate beamned proudly.

You chewed your bottom lip and looked at the crib. It was beautiful and sturdy but something felt off.

“Do you like it?”. Gojo asked. He could read your face and knew that you were doubtful about this one.

“I don’t know. It’s beautiful but I can’t imagine Keisuke in this”. You looked up at him.

Gojo smiled. “Me neither. Let’s look at some more”.

You nodded and followed him.

The associate guided you towards another and then another but for some reason none of them seemed like the right one. You felt guilty about turning down and you could see the disappointment in the associate’s face each time you turned down a crib.

"This would be perfect for your baby. It's handmade in Italy and comes in with a built-in temperature sensor. It has a hidden camera in all four corners and the surface is coated with white gold to give a calming appearance". 

You looked at the crib, it was similar to the one you had in the village except that one was not coated with gold. You walked towards it and kept your hand on the railing, it felt strong and sturdy. 

The associate smiled and stood on the other side. "It also comes with a fine Muslin curtains on the inside for night time and it can withstand a total of 120 kg"

Gojo didn't pay attention to the associate. He stood next to you and kept his hand on yours over the railing. "Do you like it?". He asked, looking at you. He didn't care how fancy or hi-tech the crib was. Your opinion is all that mattered to him..as for security Gojo knew that he can take care of it.

You smiled and looked up at him. "I like this one. What about you?".

"I like it too". He smiled back and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. 

The sales associate visibly relaxed. "Then should we finalize this?".

Gojo nodded. "Yes". 

The car ride home was tiring. It was almost lunch time and you were getting drowsy. Unlike before, You and Gojo sat in the middle, holding hands. Gojo wasn’t doing any better. After the tiring night and busy morning, all he wanted to do now was hold you and sleep. He loved Keisuke, he truly did but at times like this he wished that he could have gotten more time with you. Just you and him. 

“Y/n..”. Gojo whispered.

“Yes?”. You turned towards him. 

“Should we…”. He hesitated.“…..Nevermind”. He turned away. 

“Satoru..what is it?”. You tried to read his face to understand what he wanted to say.  After everything that he has done, why would he hesitate now?

“Should we..I mean..Can we get a nanny for Keisuke?”. Gojo bit the inside of his cheeks.

You nodded your head and averted your gaze. “I can take care of him on my own. I know it’s a lot but you don’t have to help if you don’t want to”. You said, looking out now. 

Gojo immediately realized his mistake. He turned completely towards you and took both of your hands in his’. “No love. I didn’t mean it like that”.

You looked down at his hands and then up at him. “What did you mean then?”.

“I meant... A lot has happened y/n and I want us to spend some time together. I want to know everything that’s going on in your head other than Keisuke. I want to know about so many things”. Gojo gave your hand a light squeeze. 

You didn't expect this. What was he up to now? You gave him a short smile. “You can ask me whatever you want to know about”.

Gojo smiled and shook his head. At times it was adorable how clueless you could get. “I mean..I want to take you out to dinner and spend some time with you”. 

Your heart skipped a beat, you didn’t know what to say. “I..I don’t think we need to spend any time together. After all, we are only together because of Keisuke right?”.  

Gojo stayed silent for a few seconds and then he smiled. “No. I told you that I want both you and Keisuke in my life. You mean more to me than just the mother of my child. You are my love y/n and I don’t want you to forget that..ever”. Your words had left an ache in his chest but he didn’t care. 

You pressed your lips together and looked down. “I..I’ll need time to think about it”.

“Take your time. I am not going anywhere”. Gojo smiled and sat back with a sad smile.

You turned away to look outside. You couldn’t face him. He sat back and faced the other side. He knew he deserved all your hatred but it still hurt so much. The pain spread from his chest to his arms and legs. His whole body felt numb. He looked at a couple walking outside and thought to himself, if only he had not left you ever, if only he would have shown up that night in the park, if only he would have stayed back that day, then maybe it could have been you and him. If the gods were to come down to ask him for all his wealth and power in return for a happy life with you, he would take it in a heartbeat. 

-X-

“Where is Satoru?!”. Yuri demanded as she stormed into the private wing of the mansion. 

“He has gone out”. Jerry replied and stood sternly in front of her, preventing her from proceeding any further.

Yuri scoffed and folded her arms over her chest. “I need to get a file from his room”. 

“I am sorry but no one is allowed beyond this point”. Jerry smiled. It was true. No one other than Jerry and few other maids were allowed beyond the lobby in your and Gojo’s absence. 

“I am not just another person around the house Jerry. I am his family”. Yuri tried to reason.

Jerry gave a polite smile. It was not in his nature to be crass to people in the house and neither did he think he had ever hated anyone. But he hated Yuri with every fiber of his being. He was a gentleman, trained to be ready for every situation but somehow Yuri managed to find a way to get on his nerves. He wanted to remind her of her place and tell her that if she had really been his family then she would have the Gojo name but he didn’t say any of the witty insults. Instead he preferred to do it his way. “Mr.Gojo and...Mrs.Gojo would be back shortly, you can visit him then”. He gave another polite smile.

Yuri scoffed.“Jerry..do I need to remind you that until two days ago you were obeying me? Do I need to remind you what happens to those who disobey me?”. Yuri stepped closer to Jerry and pouted mockingly. “Only I can order you-”.

“What’s happening here?” Gojo’s voice rang in the hallway.

Yuri immediately stepped back and had her good girl mask back on. She turned around, smiling with doe eyes to see Gojo walked towards them. Her smile faltered a little when she saw you walking next to him. She wondered how can someone look so sad and angry all the time when they have a man like Gojo next to them?

You let go of Gojo’s hand the moment Yuri turned around but Gojo grabbed it again and held it tighter this time. Gojo didn’t understand why you let go and thought your hand must have slipped because he wasn’t holding it tight enough. Afterall underneath all this he was indeed a simple man who just wanted to hold hands with his wife. He didn’t see things for what they were.

“I just wanted to get the file I gave..y/n last night”. Yuri spoke and looked at you with feigned politeness. She looked in between the two of you and saw the way Gojo had intertwined his hands with yours. Were you that possessive that you had to hold his hand all the time? Or were you jealous of her? Either way, holding hands meant nothing to her.

“It’s in my office. You can take it from there”.

“I need to talk to you Satoru”. Yuri stepped towards Gojo and looked up at him through her lashes. 

You bit your lip in frustration. This was annoying. She was annoying. You hated her but you hated Gojo for letting her into his life. Was this your replacement? Just the thought that Gojo relied on someone while you were alone made your blood boil and skin crawl. 

Yuri stepped closer to Gojo and fiddled with the buttons of his coat and now there was hardly any distance between them. Gojo frowned and stepped back but she was quick enough to grab his free hand. She pouted, “I didn’t know that and Jerry said that I was not allowed to go to your room..anymore”. She said the last words looking at you through the corner of her eye and smirked a little when she saw your jaw tense. 

You yanked your hand away and stormed ahead without waiting for Gojo. You didn’t care how it made you look. You just wanted to be away from her. Your head was spinning and it felt like the air was sucked out of the room.

Gojo was surprised by your reaction. It happened suddenly. One moment Yuri was in front of him and the next you had waked out. Did he do something? Were you mad at him?Was this about the nanny ?He ignored everyone around him and ran after you. 

“Y/n! Wait!”. He called out but you didn’t stop walking.

Gojo jogged ahead and stood in front of you. He dismissed everyone around and looked down at you. You didn’t look up. Gojo cupped your face with both of his hands and titled it upwards. “What happened?”. Gojo was panicking on the inside. The last thing he wanted to do now was hurt you more than he already had.

You gritted your teeth. Did he really not know or was he playing dumb? You yanked his hand away, “Nothing”, you said sternly and walked away but Gojo followed you around. 

“Are you mad at me?”. Gojo asked with a frown on his face.

You stayed silent and turned around the corner to enter the bedroom.

“Y/n look at me!”. He pleaded.

You stayed silent and made your way to the bed where Keisuke was sleeping peacefully surrounded by his toys. The help in charge of looking after him bowed and took her leave leaving only you and Gojo in the room. You walked to the closet and Gojo followed you. “Is this about the nanny?”.

“No”. You took your coat off and tossed it on a bench. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves but nothing helped.

“What did I do?”. Gojo asked as he took his coat off too.

“Nothing”. You said and walked out with Gojo still following you around.

Keisuke was sleeping peacefully in the center of the bed, surrounded by pillows. You tucked the sides of the blanket. You caressed his cheeks softly and kissed his forehead.

Gojo couldn’t focus on anything. He felt like he was having another panic attack. He was growing restless. Why won’t you look at him? Why were you running away from him? What did he do? Were you going to leave him again? 

“Are you mad at me?”. He pleaded quietly. 

“Satoru, I am not mad at you”. You spoke softly and stood up to make your way to the bathroom.

Gojo followed you, “Yes you are. Did I do something? I..I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you. If it's about the nanny then we don't have to get one”. Gojo frowned. His heart was beating rapidly. The sudden shift in your behavior worried him. Was it because he held your hand? Did he do too much or did he not do enough? He didn’t know. All he knew was that something happened and now you were upset. He stood behind you and looked at you through the mirror.

“Please…just..talk to me”.

You looked at his reflection in the mirror and your breath hitched when you saw the faint tears lining his lash line. Was he..was he crying? You were upset but you didn’t mean to hurt him. 

“Please…tell me what happened”. Gojo took a step towards you and now stood directly behind you. You could feel his coat brushing against the back of your arms.

Your gaze softened as you witnessed his fragility and it shook your walls. Maybe he wasn’t the big bad wolf you thought him to be.

“Don’t run away from me”. Gojo spoke with his eyes closed. “Yell at me or hit me, I don’t care but...never run away from me”. His voice quivered. His hands were trembling by your side. He was scared.

You were so angry that you wanted to cry. You were angry at yourself for feeling this way. If you didn’t love him then you shouldn’t be feeling this. If he loved you then how could he let another woman get near him? Did she mean more than you did? Why did you care about it so much? It was all too frustrating. You turned towards him but refused to look up at him. The distance or the lack of it, made your heart race and your thoughts made your head spin.

Gojo looked down at you. He knew you. He knew that when you were upset you refused to look at anyone. He knew that he had hurt you somehow. He kneeled in front of you and held both of your hands. 

You heat shot up and saw his teary eyes staring at you. “Satoru..”. You said bleakly. 

“What happened? What did I do?”. Gojo whispered. 

You took a deep breath. “I don’t want..”. You sighed. “I don’t know what your relationship is with Yuri but I don’t want her to be anywhere near me or Keisuke”.

Gojo frowned. Why were you talking about Yuri now? Did she do something? Did she say something? You and Keisuke? “There is no you and Keisuke…”. Gojo said, eyes scanning every inch of your face. 

You frowned.”What-”

“It’s us. You, me and Keisuke. Don’t..separate me…not yet at least”. Gojo cupped your cheeks. “I promise you, she will never come near us ever again”. 

Your heart skipped a beat. You could see that he meant every word he said.In that moment you felt the love seep through the cracks of the wall you spent a year building. You smiled and nodded your head. 

“Let’s go and wake up our baby now”. Gojo smiled sadly.

You followed him out but deep inside you felt guilty for telling him what to do when you weren’t even sure if you’ll be with him in a few weeks.

You nudged him to sit on the bed. He didn’t let go of your hand but leaned down to press a kiss on Keisuke’s cheeks. His cheeks jiggled when Gojo pulled away,making you chuckle. “How can someone be this adorable”. Gojo whispered.

You shrugged. “You know..”. You said looking at Keisuke. “I was so mad when he was born because he looked so much like you”. 

Gojo chuckled. “He does!. Doesn’t he? I didn’t want to brag about it but now I can”.

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “I just hope he doesn’t get your personality”.

“What’s wrong with it?”. Gojo pouted.

“I can only deal with one clingy child!”. You laughed.

Gojo smiled. “Y/n….”

“Yeah?”.

Gojo bit the inside of his cheeks,”About Yuri…. She means nothing. If you don’t want her around then she won’t be around”. 

You smiled. It did feel better to know that even if you got together a day ago Gojo still prioritized your happiness and wants. “Thank You”. You gave his hand a squeeze.

Gojo pouted. “You insult me by saying that. So don’t do that”.

You giggled and shook your head. Keisuke cooed in his sleep and slowly opened his eyes. “Look who’s up! My baby woke up! You missed me?!”. Your eyes widened and you spoke in your baby voice. 

He looked at you with all the love in his eyes. You were smiling gently, a strand of your hair fell softly across your cheek but you didn’t notice it. Your gaze fixed on your baby. Gojo could feel his heart turn into a jelly. He could just stare at you being you all day. He didn't want this moment to end. He didn’t want to lose you. He would rather die in this moment than see you walk away from him. His life wasn’t his anymore, it was yours. His love was yours. His happiness was yours.

Yuri stood there for the longest time,paralyzed,frozen in the moment, stunned, everyone left one by one. Gojo didn’t bother stopping for a second to talk to her. She had never been treated like this before. Ever. It hurt her heart but it hurt her pride more. The look on your face was ingrained in her mind. She turned around to ask for someone but everyone had left. She sighed and made her way to Gojo’s office to take the file she needed. She smirked thinking how Gojo was playing the part of a doting husband but a Tiger never loses its stripes. Soon he would be bored of the redundant domestic life and would be back to his old self. But you, you had to be dealt with as soon as possible and Yuri knew just what to do.

-X-

You stood next to Gojo and watched the men set up the crib right next to your side of the bed. Both of you were unsure about letting Keisuke sleep alone in another room. There were many reasons behind your hesitation, safety, attachment but above all you weren’t sure if you could stay in the room with Gojo all alone. 

Though Gojo didn’t share your third problem he shared the first two. By now he was used to Keisuke’s sleep cycle and surprisingly woke up seconds before he did and rocked him back to sleep. He didn’t mind doing this at all. In fact he was proud of it. Everytime Keisuke fell asleep on his shoulder his heart healed a little. The little drool droplet staining his t-shirt reminded him that he was a father now. Gojo had spent countless sleepless nights the past year but these were the best kind. The kind that he wanted. He had learnt a lot in the past few days, like Keisuke needed Mr.Carrot everytime he was being fed. He did not like being held in his left arm. He loved playing with your locket or your hair. He liked his blue sock more than his red sock and his favorite jumper was the one that you had knitted for him. 

There were things that he picked up about you too. Somehow you could differentiate between a hungry cry and an irritated cry. You were still shy while feeding him, which Gojo didn’t understand. You always get tired after feeding him and at that time it’s best to let you sleep for a while. You had to take your medication twice a day at 11AM and 7PM. You bit your lower lip and rolled your eyes everytime he played with Keisuke. Your favorite word to call Keisuke was “munchkin” and Gojo knew, with all his heart, that you liked holding his hand even if you’d never initiate it. He looked over to you and then intertwined his left hand with yours. He could see the corner of your lips curl up and smiled to himself. 

“It’s done sir”. The manager that came along spoke with a wide smile.

Both you and Gojo walked over and inspected the newly built crib. It was sturdy and comfortable. You connected your  phone to the built-in camera and were quite satisfied with the security system. While Gojo thanked the men, you stared at the crib and couldn’t help but think about the empty one sitting in your old apartment. Amidst all this you had forgotten about that. 

“Everything okay?”. Gojo asked as he walked over to you.

You nodded your head but your eyes were fixed on the crib.

“If you don’t like it we can get another one”. Gojo said. Your face was hard to read at times like this. It scared him. 

You shook your head and smiled at him. “It’s nice. Bit too big for him but it’s perfect”.

Gojo smiled hesitantly. “It’s big enough for the two of you”. 

You chuckled. “For now let’s see if he likes it”. 

Gojo tried to put Keisuke down in the crib but Keisuke gripped his hair making Gojo wince a little. You walked over and tried to take Keisuke out of his hand but he wouldn’t let go of Gojo’s hair. 

“Let Satoru go, baby”. You took Keisuke in your arms but he refused to let go of Gojo’s hair so now Gojo stood next to you with his head bowed down as Keisuke giggled. “This tiny devil. Where does he get his strength from?”. You muttered as you tried to open his fist wrapped around Gojo’s hair. 

Gojo chuckled as he winced. He was having just as much fun with this as Keisuke. 

“Stop laughing Satoru!”. You warned but couldn’t control your own laughter as the father son duo bursted out laughing harder. “Stop! What do I do with the two of you?!”. You groaned but they started laughing harder. It was annoying knowing that even though you were stronger than Keisuke, he was a baby and no matter how hard  you try you could never show the full extent of your strength. You wondered how Gojo found this amusing given that he was now bent down to your height and you were sure his back hurt. 

Gojo’s neck hurt but Keisuke’s giggled mixed with your annoyed laugh was worth the pain. He stepped forward to make it easier for you to hold Keisuke and untangle his hand, unintentionally caging you between his body and the crib. His hands rested on the railing on either side and Keisuke was only pulling him closer. His heart was beating out of his chest. He was so close to you. He felt like a teenage boy being in close proximity to his crush.

Keisuke let go of his hair when you tickled him. Gojo stood up straight with a heavy sigh and your mouth hung open when you saw his flushed face. 

“Oh no”. You frowned. “Did it hurt a lot?”. You said and started rubbing the spot behind his ear where Keisuke had his death grip. “Ahh it must have hurt”.

“I’m fine, y/n”. Gojo smiled and bent down with his hands still by your side and smiled at you. “I am perfectly fine”.  He smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.  

You bit your lip and turned around to face the crib and gently put Keisuke inside. Gojo pulled out his polaroid camera from the bedside drawer and stood next to you. He focused the camera on Keisuke and clicked his photo. “His first time in his new crib”.

Gojo had been taking pictures of you and Keisuke ever since your first day. You didn’t mind him doing that. It made him happy. You bit your lip nervously contemplating your intentions. But looking at Gojo smiling widely at the photo and then crouching down to show Keisuke his photo made all your doubts disappear.

“Satoru..”. You spoke and rested your hand on the railing.

“Yes?”. Gojo looked up at you and then stood up.

“Do you..”. You bit the inside of your cheek. “Do you want to see ..ummm..photos?”.

Gojo stared blankly at you. “Which photos?”.

“Mine and Keisuke’s..I mean when I was..you know..carrying him?”.

Gojo’s silence made you question everything you just said. But then he smiled, “Yes! Yes I do! Can we see them now?! Please”. Gojo couldn’t believe it. This was a win for him. You were letting him in your life. Heck yeah he wanted to see the photos!

You chuckled. “Didn’t you have that meeting?”. You remembered Jerry reminding Gojo about a seemingly important meeting he had in the afternoon. 

“It can wait!”. Gojo was getting too excited. You chuckled, he was already ready to head out for the meeting as soon as the crib was finished. Now his light blue shirt had a tiny dark blue spit stain on the right shoulder. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hair disheveled. He looked more like he was returning from the meeting than heading to one.

“Alright, I’ll get the album”. You shook your head and turned to walk to the closet where you had kept the bag. You were still hesitant about using the clothes he had bought for you and relied on the ones you bought at the mall. It upset Gojo a little but he gave you your space and time.

“There is a whole album?!”. Gojo exclaimed as he followed you.

“Satoru calm down! Sit with Keisuke and I will get it”. You spoke without looking back but you knew Gojo stopped and sat on the bed obediently. 

When you walked out with the tiny baby blue album you saw Gojo sitting on the bed with his back resting against the soft backrest and his legs crossed in front, he had a small pout on his face but what made him even more adorable was the fact that he was playing with Mr.Giraffe.

You crawled on your side of the bed and sat next to him. “Ready?”? You asked, keeping the album on your lap.

“Yes!”. Gojo spoke excitedly.

You opened the album and the first photo was of your ultrasound. Gojo slid down and rested his head on your shoulder. You realized that this was the closest you had been with him but you didn’t move him. 

Gojo touched the photo and saw a glimpse of you in that room, looking at the screen. He could almost imagine himself to be sitting by your side, seeing your baby for the first time. “He looks like a bean”.

“Yeah he does”. You smiled.

“But I can already tell that he is as handsome as his father”. Gojo said smugly. It was something he would have said had he been there at the moment.

You chuckled and slipped the page. The next photo was of you in front of the mirror with the hem of your tank top lifted up to reveal the almost there baby bump. “This was in three months..almost three months”. 

Gojo hummed. You looked beautiful. Tired. Exhausted but beautiful. He could see your eyebags but he could also see your beautiful smile. “You look tired here. Why?”. He asked, staring at the photo.

“I had trouble sleeping those days”. You flipped the page.

Gojo didn’t need to ask why you had trouble sleeping. He knew. He knew very well.

You chuckled looking at the next photo. “Mrs.Itadori insisted that I have a maternity photoshoot. It was so awkward”. You smiled looking at the photos of you taken in the backyard with blue balloons and blue cake. 

Gojo smiled. It was adorable. He wished he was there standing behind you. His eyes welled up thinking that no matter how much he tried he could never be there. It was all in the past. He cannot go back in time and sit by your bed when you had the ultrasound, or feel the first kick, or deal with your cravings and morning sickness. He was never going to be there. As you flipped through the pages your belly grew and so did your smile. Gojo’s heart felt lighter knowing that you were happy. Some photos were taken candidly when you were working at the snack bar and others were taken against the light yellow wall of your living room. 

As you showed him the last photo of you holding Keisuke in your arms in the hospital, Gojo felt like he was witnessing it firsthand. He felt like he was the one standing behind the camera. But he knew that at that time, in that instant he was far away from you. He stared at the photo blanky and felt guilty, guilty for not being there to hold your hand, guilty for not being there to wipe the  sweat off your face, guilty for not sitting by your side and listening to every curse word you threw at him. 

You could sense his body tensing at each photo and you wondered if you had done the right thing. But sooner or later you had to show him these. 

"Are you okay?". You asked, looking sideways.

Gojo rested his chin on your shoulder and smiled widely. "You are a beautiful mother". 

"Don't you have a meeting to go to?". You asked.

Gojo held your eye contact and smirked. "I don't want to go". 

"Satoru..you should go".  You spoke softly. 

Gojo held your hand instead and pouted. It made you smile how similar this needy face was to the one in the crib. "Please don't make me go". 

"The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back". You raised an eyebrow and hoped that your reason falls on the smarter part of his brain.

"But if I don't go at all then-".

"Satoru!".

Gojo groaned and got out of the bed. He leaned over the crib and smiled at Keisuke. "Your mom is a meanie". He scrunched his nose and turned to walk towards the door where his coat hung neatly on the stand. 

You scoffed. "Ouch. Are you taking it to him now?". Your gaze followed him as he walked over to the stand. 

"Someone should listen to me". Gojo winked as he put on the coat. 

"Have a good time". 

Gojo chuckled and walked out of the bedroom. 

You sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over the crib. "I'm not a meanie". 

Keisuke blew a raspberry and you got your answer. He was your adorable munchkin but he was Gojo's little devil. 

-X-

Gojo walked through the marble hallway, adjusting his Gojo clan cufflinks. Everyone moved out of his way and he didn't notice how many doors opened for him. You were right, the sooner he is done with this the sooner he will get to go back to you. But every second away from you seemed like a wasted time. His heart was hardly at peace. He was also excited. Excited to finally sleep next to you. Maybe you'll let him hold you. He blushed slightly thinking about waking up tomorrow with you in his arms. Men stiffened when he walked past not knowing that once called as the ice Prince was now gushing on the inside.

He walked into his chamber. It was different from his formal office. It was made entirely out of white marble with black carpet covering every inch of the flood. Gojo's trusted men stood on either side of the room. These men were the ones who handled various aspects of his clan business. Some managed exports. Some managed casinos. Some managed real estate. They all reported to him twice a week. 

Today was going to be a long day. Gojo had to take care of many things which included administering justice over those who hurt his business. He walked over to his chair or as others referred to as his throne and sat down. His men sat in their respective chairs lined on either side of his'. 

"Start". Gojo said. His face, devoid of any expression or emotions.

"Sir". One of the men stood up and bowed down to him. "I will be sending my men to vacate the village for our new factory. It will be done by this weekend but I need more manpower".

Gojo started at the man. "Leave it. We don't need to make that factory anymore". 

"But sir we had promised Mr.Ian the partnership. He had invested 120 million and now he is asking about the work".

Gojo knew it was the same village where he had met you. If he goes ahead with the plan then it would crush your heart but moreover it would be unfair to people who take care of you. He wanted to thank them the best way possible and maybe this was his chance to do so.

Gojo's gaze sent a chill down the man's spine. "Pay him double and tell him that I changed my mind. If he creates any more problems then set up a meeting with me". 

The man smiled politely and bowed down. "Yes, Sir".

"Next". Gojo said, taking a sip of his tea. 

Yuta stood up and bowed down. But before he could speak the doors opened. Everyone turned towards the door and shifted slightly in their seats as Yuri walked in wearing a form fitting red dress with a slit so high that it almost reached her waist. The sweetheart neckline plunged deep enough that left little to imagination. Her heels clicked on the floor as she smiled sweetly looking at the only man she wore the dress for. 

"Hello, Satoru". He spoke softly as she bent down to kiss his ring. 

Gojo gulped harshly. He felt irritated in her presence. He felt like the closer she was to him the farther you'd go away from him and he didn't want that. "What are you doing here?". He asked coldly. 

Yuri's smile faltered. Gojo was never cold to her. Not this cold anyway..

"I came to attend the meeting". Yuri smiled. 

"You are not required here".

"Oh come on Satoru. Only because I am a little late that doesn't mean-".

Before Yuri could finish what she was saying, Gojo stood up, making her take a few steps back. All the men stood up immediately.

"Get out now!". Gojo warned. "Let me make it clear to everyone". Gojo spoke, looking straight at Yuri but his message was for everyone. "Yuri… is not allowed on this estate anymore. Her work is limited to the office. Am I clear?". 

Yuri scoffed and folded her arms over her chest. "Is this because of her? God I can't believe she could be so jealous! Did you forget that I was there with you when you thought that she was dead! God! That fucking bi-"

Yuri's words died down in her throat as her eyes focused on the gun pointed at her. "I dare you to finish that sentence". Gojo had a devilish grin on his face. His insanity reflecting in his eyes. He didn't care. He was insane, he knew that. He knew that he would pull the trigger without a second thought if Yuri, or anyone dared insult you.

Tears rolled down Yuri's cheeks. This was insulting…heartbreaking. "Sa..Satoru". 

"I asked, am I clear?!". Gojo yelled, loud enough for the security outside to hear.

The guards immediately marched in and stood around her. 

"Escort Ms.Yuri out and make sure she doesn't step foot in this estate again!". 

Yuri watched in horror as the guard stood between her and Gojo. She turned around without any resistance but held her head high as she walked out.

Gojo sat down and gulped down the glass of water kept on the table. He couldn't believe Yuri would do something like this when he had told her not to show up at the estate under any circumstances. She defied his orders and risked his marriage. What if you would have seen her here, dressed like that? Behaving like that? Gojo couldn't risk it. He immediately picked up his phone and opened the app which showed the video from his bedroom. He was glad he had gotten cameras installed in the bedroom the day the two of you went out. He smiled gently when he saw that you were playing with Keisuke. You were fine. There was no way you could have seen her.

He calmed himself down and took another sip of his tea.  

"Where were we?". He asked looking at Yuta and continued the work.

The meeting was going on for longer than he had thought. He was tired and exhausted. His head was hurting listening to his men argue over some petty thing. He knew that sometimes it was necessary to let men fight. But he was getting sick of the same he said-she said. 

"Enough!". He yelled. The men stopped arguing and shared a look of fear. "Now you..". Gojo pointed to the man on his right. "Pay him back the money you borrowed!". 

The man stepped forward with tears in his eyes and bowed down. "I can't. I need more time".

Gojo leaned back. "You promised him money in six weeks so you will pay him back".

"I can't. Sir, my wife just gave birth and both my daughter and wife are admitted in hospital. I need money for their bills. Just 6 more weeks and I promise I will pay him back". 

Gojo contemplated for a while. “I will pay him back on your behalf and you have 6 months to pay me back”. Gojo said calmly. 

The man had tears in his eyes and bowed down to thank him. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”.

Gojo smiled warmly. This was the last meeting of the day. He checked his watch, it was already 10 PM. He got up and dismissed everyone. He was tired and could feel his body giving up. He needed sleep. 

-X-

Groggily he made his way to his..your bedroom. He struggled to keep his eyes open and mind focused. All the work that he had kept aside for the past weeks hit him like a tidal wave. Even in the state of tiredness he still remembered the album you showed him. He smiled to himself. He didn’t tell you but a part of him broke at the thought of not being there when his son was born. Regardless, he had time now. Time to heal your wounds and save his life.

He entered the dim room and squinted his eyes to see clearly. Were you asleep already? He sighed and slowly made his way into the room. 

“Satoru?”. 

His head turned in the direction of your voice and saw you slowly get up from the bed. “Hey”.

You got off from the bed and made your way to where he was standing. 

“It’s alright. Please go back to sleep”. Gojo whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you up”.

You chuckled as you subbed your eye. “It’s alright. I just put Keisuke to sleep”. You looked up and saw the pair of tired eyes looking down at you. “You look tired, Rough day?”. 

Gojo nodded, he held your hand and shook then gently. “Rough day”.

“Did you eat dinner?”. 

Gojo pondered over your words and then shook his head. “Too tired”. 

You sighed. On one hand you knew it was not right for him to skip dinner and on the other hand you could sense his body swaying and struggling to stand up. “Should I make something for you?”.

Gojo shook his head again. 

“Do you want to wash up first?”. 

Gojo shook his head again. 

You smiled to yourself. “Fine, let’s sleep then”. 

Gojo followed you back to bed but instead of getting on his side he made his way to the crib. “Did you guys have a good day?”. He asked before leaning down to press a kiss on Keisuke’s head. 

“Your son got into a fight with Mr.Giraffe”. You smiled and watched as Gojo walked over and got on his side of the bed. “You’re not going to change?”.

Gojo shook his head as he removed his cufflinks and belt and kept it on his bedside table. Maybe it was the tiredness or maybe it was the raw need to feel you close to him after a day like this but as soon as Gojo got inside the blankets he did not hesitate to pull you closer to him. HIs one hand draped over your waist and the other rested snugly under your head. 

You were shocked…surprised…scared…happy. Your mind went from adjusting to the proximity to how big his biceps felt. You were engulfed by his expensive cologne and you were sure you’d smell the same by morning and for some reason it made you happy. Hesitantly you put your arm over him and relaxed into the embrace. 

“So tell me, what did Mr.Giraffe do?”. Gojo asked as he rubbed slow circles on your back. 

You chuckled and looked at him. “How do you know it was Mr.Giraffe at fault?”.

“My son..our son..at fault? No chance”. Gojo smiled.

“You are going to spoil him, you know that right?”. You corked an eyebrow and whispered in the space between you two.

“I know”.

“Go to sleep Satoru”.

Gojo hummed. He was tired but he didn’t want this moment to end. He had never felt more alive. He had you in his arms. After years that felt like ages. He could feel the softness of your body, your curves, he could smell the sweet mixture of shampoo and bodywash, he could feel the softness of your hair, he could feel you breathing in his arms. He knew that things could take a turn for worse at any moment and he wanted to preserve every second of his moment. 

“Satoru?”. You called out again and Gojo snapped out of his thoughts.

“I don’t want to sleep just yet. Keep talking to me..please”. 

You smiled and began narrating your boring day to him. He listened intently about Keisuke’s fight with a stuffed giraffe and how he threw a fit when you bathed him and that’s how you got baby shampoo in your eyes. He listened to you rant about how Keisuke refused to wear the yellow onesie and only agreed to wear the red one. He smiled at your frustration with your son and your concern that Gojo's behavior was rubbing off on him. Somewhere between the evening walk in the park and dinner you fell asleep. 

Gojo smiled, he didn’t wake you up. He caressed your cheek softly and pressed a featherlight kiss on your cheek. “I love you..so much”. He whispered and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.He watched you breathe softly in his arms, to him you were the embodiment of purity and innocence. A ray of hope in his dark life. He thought how twisted his fate was, but maybe the gods were testing him. Maybe they wanted him to be a better man to deserve an angel like you. But he knew that even if never became the man the gods wanted him to be, he would still fight for you. The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was how you clutched his shirt in your sleep. He fell asleep with a smile on his face thinking how both you and Keisuke had this one trait in common.

When you opened your eyes the next morning you realized how tightly Gojo held on to you in his sleep. His shirt crumpled, hair disheveled, mouth agape, soft breaths. You tried to lift his arm but he only pulled you closer. He didn't seem awake at all and yet he didn't want to let you go. You relaxed into his embrace and watched the way his hands wrapped around your waist. You gently ran your finger over his pink and scarred knuckles. Your heart sank thinking how the hands that hold you so delicately and firmly are the same hands that have taken a life. Life of your friend…your mind went back to Hiro. It was still unclear what happened to him. Gojo denied killing him but he didn't give any further explanation. You knew Hiro was dead. You knew it in your heart but you needed to know who killed him..

"Good morning love". 

Gojo's raspy voice sent a shiver down your spine. "Good morning". You smiled softly.

"Slept well?". He asked, looking at you through half lidded eyes. 

"Mmhmm. You?".

Gojo didn't reply but smiled and nodded his head. 

"We should get up". You tried to get up but his strong arms brought you back to your place. 

"I don't want to". Gojo groaned. 

"Satoru!". 

Gojo groaned and huffed for a while before loosening his grip on you. 

-X-

You walked in the gardens of the estate with Keisuke in his stroller. Your mind had been stuck on the same question, Who killed Hiro? You wondered if you could take Gojo’s word for it and move on with your life. He has been a good father and great husband to you. You knew you loved and believed him when he told you that he loves you. You knew that he loved Keisuke more than his own life. You knew that nothing could ever harm the two of you as long as you were with Gojo and yet…you wanted to know one thing you didn’t know. Who killed Hiro? The one month mark was closing in on you and so far you had no reason to leave Gojo. You had asked about his character to maids and other workers and they all had good things to say. He helped people who worked for him without expecting anything in return, he wasn’t strict and uptight. He wasn’t cruel. You had no reason to leave him and it terrified you. It was scary to think that you had probably punished a good and innocent man. Took away so many things from him. 

You bit your lip nervously and shook your head. You were sure he had killed people. You were sure of that. But you knew he wasn’t like other ordinary men. Nothing about him was ordinary. He was born into this out of the ordinary world and he did what he had to do to survive. But did you have the right to punish him for that?

“Is everything alright Mrs.Gojo?”. 

You snapped out of your thoughts and turned back to see Jerry standing with a silver tray. “Oh! Hi Jerry. Yeah everything is fine”.

Jerry studied your face for a minute and then smiled. “Perhaps we should sit and have some tea, the sun is getting high now”.

You looked at the sky and scrunched your nose. Jerry was right. You had lost track of your time and now your morning walk was turning into a noon walk. You nodded and followed Jerry to the Gazebo on the shadier side of the garden. 

The two of you sat down and you checked to see that Keisuke had fallen asleep. 

“Is there anything bothering you?”. Jerry asked as he poured  iced tea in a crystal glass.

You pondered over his question for a bit and instead of answering it, you presented a question of your own. “Jerry, if I ask you something about Satoru, would you be honest with  me?”.

“Absolutely!”. Jerry sat down opposite you.

“Even if the answer is unpleasant?”.

Jerry smiled warmly revealing his experience in smile lines and wrinkles. “Especially if the answer is unpleasant. You are his wife and it is my duty to serve you with loyalty and honesty”. 

“Can you..I mean..I want to know what happened in the last year with Satoru”.

Jerry’s warm conduct was now shadowed by a dark cloud. It felt like he didn’t want to visit those memories in the past and yet he knew that he had promised you honesty.

“I didn’t know much about what happened whenMaster Gojo was away for those few days but when he returned, he was not the man I knew. For the first few weeks he refused to leave his room. He would barely eat or drink and would stay in his bed all day. Then it started…”. Jerry drifted off.

“What..started?”.You asked hesitantly.

“I think we can call it hallucinations…”. 

Gojo opened his phone to check up on you. It was about time for you to return from your morning walks. He frowned when he saw the bedroom empty. His heartbeat picked up and he refreshed the screen again and again. Nothing. He picked up the desk phone,

“Is she back from her walk?”. Gojo asked as soon as the head of security of the estate picked up.

Gojo cold rattling and shuffling. “Is she back or not?!”. He screamed on the phone.

“Np, sir”.

Gojo picked up his jacket and was about to walk out to search for you when he heard the man speak again, “She is in the garden”.

Gojo frowned and sat down. “At this time?”. 

“Ye sir, it seems she is having tea with Jerry”.

Gojo’s phone chimed and he picked it up to see a live feed from the gardens. He could feel his pulse slowly return to normal. He smiled at the screen, he could see the stroller and was sure that Keisuke was asleep. He locked the phone and leaned back against his chair. Everything was fine. You were safe.

“..so you’re telling me that he saw ghosts?”. You frowned. Everything that Jerry had told you shook you to the core. Gojo was traumatized. You did that to him. 

“Well you are right here so I am sure it was hallucinations”.

You nodded your head slowly, “Is he still seeing his therapist?”.

“No ma’am. He stopped a month before he met you”.

“Why is that?”. You leaned forward and twirled the glass in your hand. The honey coloured liquid inside danced along with the reflecting sunlight like it was enjoying listening to the misfortune of a man.

“His insomnia was in control and he hadn’t had any panic attacks in a while either”. 

You hummed and sipped the last of your drinks. 

“Ma’am, Mr.Gojo is not as strong as everyone believed him to be”.

“What do you mean?”.

Jerry sighed and gulped hard. “He ..has tried to do things”.

“What things?”. You had a bad feeling about this but you had to know. If it was about Gojo you had to know. 

Jerry looked up at you apologetically.

“Please, Jerry. I have to know. You know I do”.

Jerry averted his gaze and nodded his head. “Mr.Gojo, on more than one occasion had tried to take his own life”. 

The glass slipped from your hand and landed on the cool terracotta floor. You couldn’t hear the birds chirping or the window blowing. You couldn’t feel the sunlight on your skin and neither did you hear Jerry calling out to you. “Sa…satoru…why..why would he..?”. You looked up at Jerry with tears streaming down your cheek.  

"He really thought he had lost you. I have raised him ma'am. I have taken him to school and worked on his school homework. His father, may god rest his soul, was not a kind man. He was so hard on him. Physically and mentally. Master Gojo was so young, too young to understand what's right and wrong. He had made many wrong choices in his life but I had never seen him like that. He didn't shed a tear during his father's funeral but I have heard his cries from the other side of the door everyday for the past one year. His life looks good from the outside but I have seen his life. It's anything but picture perfect". 

You sat quietly and listened to Jerry. Everything seemed to make sense now. Gojo was not a perfect man but that doesn't mean he deserved what he got. You wiped your eyes and took a deep breath. You wondered the strength it took for him to overcome all that. He didn't know what love was as a child and yet you have seen him give his all to Keisuke. 

"He is… truly something then". You chuckled. 

"Yes ma'am he is".

"Jerry, would you please take Keisuke back to room. I'd like to see Satoru". 

-X-

Gojo checked his watch, it was almost lunch time. He could either have lunch or go back to you early. His priorities were clear. Right now he sat opposite two ruling party leaders talking about the outcome of the coming elections. Elections cost money. Gojo had money. 

"Mr.Gojo, we understand that the Gojo group can not openly support us but your contribution matters a lot. We appreciate that our ideas align".

Gojo smiled diplomatically. Gojo hated both sides and he was funding both the parties. Regardless of who comes in power they were all puppets to him anyway. 

He thought he heard your voice outside but ignored it. Then he heard it again and now he was sure something was happening on the other side of the door.

He saw a guard walk towards him and raised an eyebrow. 

The guard bent down and whispered near his ear, "Mrs.Gojo is here to see you. Should I send her away?". 

Gojo smiled, "let her in".

Gojo rested his chin on his knuckles and watched the wooden doors open. The two politicians turned their heads in the direction of his gaze. 

You looked confused. Cute. Adorable. Gojo bit his lip looking at your doe eyes trying to take it all in. You looked out of place in this room in your white floral dress and messy bun. You gave him a short smile as you walked with your hands clasped at the front. Gojo smiled back, Letting you know that you were okay.

You bowed at the politicians and now cursed yourself for interrupting his meeting. You looked at him, smiling at you, like everything that happened with him never happened at all. Now you could see the scarred and broken man behind the sweet smile. 

"Hi". You spoke and gave Gojo a short wave.

Gojo chuckled. "Hi, how can I help you love?".

"I…". You looked at the two men staring at you wide eyed. "...I can come back later. I don't -".

"Leave". Gojo cut you off. 

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You pressed your lips together and nodded. You were about to turn around when Gojo stopped you.

"Not you love". He spoke softly. He glared at the two men.."you two, leave". 

Your mouth hung open as you watched the two men, whom you were sure you had seen on TV scurry out of the room.

Gojo walked around the table and sat on the edge of the table with his hand crossed. "To what do I owe the pleasure of having my wife visit me at work". He spoke in a tone that made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

You stepped closer to him, hesitantly. "I..I was thinking about what you said. I think we should get a nanny". 

Gojo's eyes widened and that surprised you. "It's not that I can't take care of him. I-". 

Before you could finish your nervous rant Gojo pulled you closer to him. His hands wrapped around your waist. You could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin material of the dress. 

"We'll get a nanny". 

You smiled. He looked just as he did years ago in the office but something was missing.. "You don't wear a tie anymore?". You asked suddenly. 

Gojo's smile dropped. "Yeah…I don't feel like wearing it anymore". 

You understood the reason and felt stupid for bringing it up. To lighten the mood you resolved to teasing, "Be honest Satoru, is it because you still can't tie it properly?". 

Gojo looked at you and then burst out laughing. He pulled closer and now had you standing between his legs. He groaned thinking that you'd leave now and he'd have to go another five hours without you. 

"Don't go". Gojo pleaded. 

"I live on the other end of the house". 

Gojo rested his forehead on your shoulder and gave your waist a gentle squeeze. "Too far". 

You chuckled. "I have to go and deal with another clingy baby".

Gojo looked up at the wall clock, "he must be asleep now and he will probably sleep for another 30 minutes".

You were surprised. "Satoru! That's…accurate". 

Gojo beamed produly. "I'm a good father right?".

You looked at him, even though his eyes had a hint of sarcasm you knew that deep down he wanted the affirmation. "Yes you are. You're the best dad". 

Gojo's smile after hearing your words could only be described as one of a kind. 

"The nanny will be here by tomorrow morning. You can meet her before letting her see Keisuke".

You nodded your head. "Satoru…". You asked, absentmindedly playing with the buttons of his shirt. 

"Yes, love?". 

"I think we should get a family photo. Keisuke is still quite young so it's the right time". 

Gojo smiled a wide…devilish smile. 

"Nothing too extravagant!!". You protested before Gojo could even say anything.

He laughed at your response. "Alright alright. Tell me what kind you want and we'll get it". 

"Good! Now I gotta go to my other baby". You scrunched up your nose and tried to pull away but Gojo won't let you. 

"Satoru!". You widened your eyes to warn him.

"I didn't do anything". Gojo shrugged. 

"Let me go!". You tried to break free but he didn't budge. 

"I'm not stopping you". He said nonchalantly. 

You rolled your eyes and huffed. "Do you really want our son to murder Mr.giraffe?".

Gojo hummed. "We can't have that happening". 

"Exactly we can't. So let me-".

"But on the other hand-".

"Gojo Satoru!". You warned. 

Gojo let you go and gave a 90 degree bow. You chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Focus on your work! I'll see you for dinner!".

"Yes ma'am!". Gojo straightened up with a smirk. 

You walked out of the office smiling like you haven't smiled in years. 

Gojo turned around as the door closed and got back to his work. But he was not the same person he was moments before. He still wanted to rush through work and run to see you on the other side of the house but before everything, he ordered 30 ties. Truth be told Gojo has been tying his tie since he was five.

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[hannahssimblr]

Mom clears her throat. “We’ve been discussing what’s next for you regarding your college expenses.”

And slowly, my blood drains. “Yeah?”

“And we think it’s best that we not contribute to your lifestyle any longer.”

“Um?”

“You’ve shown a total lack of responsibility.” Dad declares. “Not just this summer, but overall. You’re spoiled, ungrateful, and completely unable to manage yourself. We’ve decided that it’s best that you learn how to be an adult the hard way.”

“The hard way?” What does that include? Single parenthood?

“You’ll pay your own fees, your own rent, bills and all other expenses.”

“The idea,” Mom says, “Is that you’ll learn to budget, save and manage your own money, without relying on us to cover your costs all the time. It’s clear we’ve been enabling you for too long.”

“Enabling me?”

“Yes. You’ve become spoiled and ungrateful.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m more than grateful.”

She rolls her eyes. 

I scoff, “I’m grateful! Jesus! I’m grateful for the iPhone! Thank you, okay? I’ve always wanted one. I’m so happy. Now, do you want me to pay you back for that, too?”

“It’s a gift.”

“Ill advised,” Dad adds. “If we had received the gas bill earlier, we wouldn’t have bought it. You can be sure of that.”

“Well, nice. Wonderful. Thank you.”

Mom shakes her head. “Don’t be like that.”

“I said thank you.”

“Don’t take us for fools. You don’t mean it. That’s the thing, and after everything we’ve done for you. We’ve fed you, given you a bed, bought your clothes and your school books-”

“Do you want to be paid back for those, too? Am I in debt for being born? That was your choice, not mine!”

Her face goes dark red. “You think this was a choice for me?” 

“No! But it was your choice to have another, wasn’t it? And it was your choice to move me out of the home where I was happy.”

“You were happy because you were a child! Children don’t know any better.”

“No, I was happy because Maureen cared for me, and would never ask me to pay her back for the… the baby formula, and the diapers and the yarn she used to knit my little tiny fucking sweaters, would she?”

“That woman is not your mother!” She shrieks. “I am your mother.”

“Then act like it!” I scream back, and my voice tears at my throat. “For once in your life, please! Instead of throwing your money at me and buying these expensive gifts, as though the car or the phone is going to parent me instead, and then you get angry with me for being spoiled. Who spoiled me? Huh? Who? I don’t want any of this stuff. I never did.”

The piano lid slams shut, and I hear Ivy’s feet scurry up the stairs. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mom hisses. “There’s not a teenager in the country who wouldn’t want what you have.”

“You’re delusional if you think that.”

“I’m delusional?”

“Did you not hear me? Yeah, you are. And also-”

“Enough!” Dad bellows. “Aside from having no respect for your parents-”

“Respect?” I scoff. “Respect is earned, not-”

“I said aside from that-”

“You can’t just shout me down! You have to let me speak!”

“This is my house!” he roars with a ferocity that could make the windows shake in their frames. “I won’t be spoken to like this under my own roof. Neither I nor your mother, do you hear me?”

I shut my mouth. 

“You will go to Berlin, as you insisted, and you will earn your own money and pay your own bills, like everybody else has to do. This is nonnegotiable. Do you understand me?”

I swallow hard. “But how am I supposed to do that?”

“We’ve done you enough favours until now. You’ll get by on the earnings from the Volkswagen for a while, and after that, well, you can just figure it out.”

“You expect me to get a job in a country where they don’t speak my first language, with no history of work?”

Mom purses her lips. “It’s your fault you don’t have experience, not ours,” which is such an egregiously untrue statement to make that I would laugh if I didn’t know better. I don’t push the subject, or dare mention Ivy while she’s in the same house. Perhaps, if I was feeling braver, or stupider, I don’t know, I would mention that my only work experience is that of an au pair, a nanny, a childminder, but seeing as my father is still bursting with rage as steam rises rather theatrically from the integrated dishwasher next to him, it seems best to keep my mouth buttoned. 

“You know, this is what estranges people from their parents.” I say. Their expressions do not change.

“You’ll get over it.” Mom says simply, and after fixing her hair, she checks her little gold watch. “I have to get back to work, so I’m going to go.”

There’s more I could say. I could sneer as I asked her if Fergal was going to be there, if it’s really me that’s the problem in this household, or something else, something weird and rotten at the core of it, but I don’t. From a dining chair, she snatches her handbag, and marches into the hall, the click clack of her heeled shoes echoing all the way to the door. 

“Enjoy your phone,” she says before slamming it shut behind her.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞

90 for 🪞:

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That’s sort of fair. It’s hard to decide who you want to be when you finally get a choice. Buck knows that better than anyone. He can see why she might be overwhelmed. 

Then, they’re walking by a rack of clothes right across from the boy’s section and Dove stops short. Buck staggers to halt and looks at her.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

“Look,” she says, pointing.

Buck follows the gesture to a mannequin little boy wearing a tee shirt that is, without a doubt, perfect for Dove. It’s a soft, gray-green type color, decorated with cartoon print alligators. 

“Oh, well,” Buck says, grinning. “That was made for you.”

Dove scrunches her mouth to the side. 

“Is it for boys?”

“It’s for whoever is wearing it,” Buck replies. “And if you want it, I think we should buy it.”

Dove smiles at him. “Yes, please.”

And once again, Buck feels like he’s done something right.

▪️▪️▪️

By the time they meet Carla for dinner, Buck thinks they’re towing a good clothing haul in the back of the Jeep. After the alligator shirt, Dove seemed a bit more ready to give her stylistic opinions. By the time they left the store, on top of that original shirt, they’d purchased two more sweaters from the boys section with various animal themes, and a corduroy skirt that she loved the feeling of under her fingers. Dove had a wide grin the whole walk to the car. Buck calls the outing a win. 

Meeting Carla goes just as well. She’s so friendly and warm that she disarms Dove’s shyness right away. Maybe Dove’s pre-established good mood and the promise of dessert also help. 

“So Carla is going to hang out with you while I’m fighting fires. That okay with you?” Buck asks, while Dove colors on her paper kid’s menu.

“Okay,” Dove shrugs. “That’s good.”

Carla chuckles. “We’re going to get along great, aren’t we Dove?”

“Yes!” Dove decides. 

Buck feels relieved. It’s all going well. She’s happy. She’s more secure than she was. He starts to feel confident that he’s not doing a bad job.

iv.

That confidence of course fizzles out at the first sign of disruption. Of course it does. 

To be fair, for over a week after Buck returns to work and Dove starts school, things are good. Gerrard makes limited jokes about Buck going on maternity leave. Buck and Eddie act pretty much normal as long as Buck doesn’t talk about spending time together outside of work. Which is a bummer. A major, anxiety-producing bummer. But Buck is still trying for patience. 

Dove is doing well in school, too. Turns out, unlike what he was warned, her reading is actually pretty on par with where it should be. It’s her confidence that’s the issue. She reads great with him. Well, for a six year-old. It’s the environment that’s the issue. He thinks that’s something they can work on. But she likes school. She already has a friend.

So things are going well. Until Buck finds himself in a pickle. 

It’s day two of his first four-off since he returned to work. And, sort of excitingly, he has an appointment with a lawyer. A lawyer who specializes in adoptions, in fact. It’s the first appointment to get the process rolling. He knows it’s quick. He’s been advised he can take more time with it if he wants. He doesn’t want. The thing is, he’s all in. He’s committed. He knows exactly what he wants. He took this little girl in, he’s gotten her to open up. There’s no way he’s turning back. He can’t do that to her. Besides, even if he’s faced challenges, he hasn’t encountered anything that has made him doubt her. Just the opposite, actually. 

The truth is, the more Buck learns about Dove, the more he likes her. The more he’s sure he wants her to be his kid. Not just that he wants a kid or wants to help in an unfortunate circumstance. He wants this kid to be his kid. This kid, with her fascination with reptiles, her surprisingly strong opinion on apple juice being better than anything else, and what he has learned is a complete and utter obsession with the Disney Tarzan cartoon. Like, he’s never listened to so much Phil Collins in his life. Dove, who is polite and gentle, but curious. He doesn’t want to imagine having to give her back. And it hasn’t even been two months. He’s going to adopt her as soon as he can and give her the security that she has somewhere forever. That is the foremost priority in his life right now. 

The morning of his appointment, Dove wears her alligator shirt, and Buck tries to braid her hair. Per her request. This would not have been his suggestion. 

[dolcezzatoru]

𝐨𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞!

toji fushiguro x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k

warnings: alcohol, mentions of prev breakup, both of you are mutually toxic lol.

a/n: hey mickey by baby tate. erm. this ! makes me think of toji. anyways haha heyyy

stability isn’t something everyone craves in a relationship.

your last relationship left you with a sour taste in your mouth–and a strong disgust for men in general–and you made the mistake of going out on a girls’ night to keep your head above water.

while two of your friends went to the bathroom, one grinded on a random man she met earlier, leaving you swirling the empty drink in your hand and looking around for any way out. you motioned towards your friend, who wasn’t paying attention, that you’re getting another drink and decided to forget it and walk away as her dance partner’s hands travel all over. 

the man sitting at the bar made way as you pushed your way to the counter, but it didn’t stop another patron from knocking you into him.

first, you felt his muscles cushion the impact, and then you saw his face. collecting yourself, you stoof up and noticed his hardened, rough, yet oh-so-pretty face. he looked like a stray biker thug sitting in a small stool at the bar, and you were almost positive he was going to clock you for falling onto him.

“easy there, doll,” he said.

almost in a mocking tone, you realized, but his voice dripped with sweetness, and the scar on his mouth danced as his lips curled into a snarky smile.

he looked back at his drink, which had spilt all over him and the bar when you collided with him.

“ah, i’m so sorry,” you started, “someone bumped me-”

the bartender finally came over, interrupting you and yelling at you to order while you fumble getting your card out to start your tab.

“and what do you want,” you turn back towards the man on your right.

he cracks another smirk, quickly looking you up and down, before facing the bartender.

“i’ll take an old fashioned,”

you bit your tongue at the choice of his drink, but instead honed in on his zero-hesitation answer into letting you buy him one in the first place.

a seat clears next to him, and you shuffle into the seat as you wait for your drink.

“thanks for the drink, sweetheart,” he yells above the crowd in your ear, getting uncomfortably close to your neck as the hair on the back of it stands on end.

“hey, don’t mention it,” you shout back, “as an apology for falling on you,”

“ah, well if that’s all it took, i would’ve at least caught you”

you lean away, studying his face as you try to get a read on him. he looks at you with a smirk, almost an expectant look adorning his features as he plays with the empty glass in his hand.

something about him was sleazy–you knew that for sure. you were more-so reasoning if you cared enough to stop entertaining it.

you didn’t. 

the bartender handed you your drink as you shot a look back at your friends, who were doing their own thing with nameless people on the floor.

“i should’ve fallen into your lap sooner then,” you laugh.

he sizes you up with his look, letting the scar on his face snake as he curls his pretty lips one more time. and you can’t help but stare, and he knows it. as he moved to sit back, you noticed a cluster of hickeys pepper his nape and shoulders, peeking out from his ill-fitting sweater.

this was a little too easy.

he introduces himself as toji, just a man on business in town for the weekend. but he visited frequently, knew his favorite spots, and had a few people in the area that made visiting worth his time.

the two of you went through the usual pleasantries of introducing yourself, getting to know one another, but there was a strange feeling in the air. it’s almost like you knew that the other wasn’t really listening or cared.

you’re pretty sure he already forgot your name. and still you couldn’t care less. you didn’t care if everything he was telling you was just a big lie to get in your pants. it was working, after all, and you’d hoped he felt the same.

he seemed like he was slowly moving closer to you, and your suspicion was correct when his large hand found a place on your thigh, seemingly taking all of it in his hand and gently stroking up and down while he listened to you talk. 

toji heard it all, but listening was a stretch.

he was watching your face as you spoke about something or other…work, maybe? or were you still in college? the way your mouth hung onto every word, how it slowly let your drink coat your mouth, and how you pressed your lips together when you were trying to hear better; it was the only thing he was really paying attention to. 

toji could only think about how your body looked under your clothes, how your ass would feel being kneaded by his calloused hands… or maybe how low he could push your lower back down to take him deeper.

not saying your mind didn’t wander as well. the thick hand on your thigh was making your mind hazy.

you’d sworn off men for a bit after your messy breakup, but as the night went on, you modified it a bit. maybe you’d sworn off good men. men with potential.

toji’s appearance in your life would be fleeting. 

you told your girlfriends you had to go as you closed out your tab and followed toji back to his hotel.

his hands traveled all over your body–in the cab home, in the elevator up to his room. he wasn’t shy about being needy. the door was barely closed before he was making quick work of undressing you, marking your neck with love bites and smiling into you as he spoke sweet nothings to you.

toji pushed you towards the bed, climbing on top of you as he trailed his love bites down your body. just when you thought he was going to eat you out, he’s grabbing your waist to pull you up.

“on all fours,” 

his sudden dominating nature made you weaker than you’d care to admit, and you pathetically clenched your legs together as you listened and repositioned while you heard his belt undo behind you.

“god, wet like this already?” he teased, “must be my lucky day,”

“oh shut up and do something already,”

he quickly spanks your ass, cutting off your complaint with a wince.

“hey now, i’m callin’ the shots tonight, dollface,”

we’re swearing off good men. maybe we put up with this for one night.

one night turned into two, then three, then anywhere you could, any time you could.

he was a great distraction from it all. you’d find yourself writing every other man off any time he was in town just to hook up. how could you look in the direction of anyone else when you were at the beck and call of this man? 

he just had the perfect personality to waste your time. and you’d accept it with open arms.

toji fucked you like he loved you. or maybe like he hated you, you were still deciding.

on all fours, he traced your spine gently before pushing down on your back, making you collapse onto your forearms as your back arches deeply.

“that’s more like it,” he purrs, palming your ass in one hand and using the other to line himself up with your cunt.

you let out a wanton moan as he slams into you, not giving you any time to prepare to take all of him at once. he was thick, and set a tough pace as he let a mix of praises and grunts fall out of his mouth.

“fuck, you feel so good, baby,”

“this little pussy’s all mine, huh?”

“you’re being so perfect for me, doll”

your mind grows a little bit hazy as you feel every inch of him piston in and out of you, the heat building in you as toji picks up the pace. 

he grabs your forearms and pins them behind you, letting your face fall to the mattress as one hand keeps your wrists fastened together on your lower back. 

your eyes were rolling around as you softly closed your eyes, letting pure ecstasy take over as you threw out all dignity and pathetically moaned while approaching your climax.

“i’m–i’m g-gonna…” you stutter out.

toji pulls you up by your wrists, letting you arch against his chest as he continues to fuck you from behind.

“gonnaaaaaa….gonna what, sweetheart? can you speak up for me?” he teased between thrusts.

you barely have the coherency to fire back a remark at him, all you could focus on was the adrenaline rushing through you as you went barreling towards the edge.

“gonna c-cum, toji,” 

keeping up his rhythm, he whispers coyly in your ear, “wanna beg for me? y’know you wanna, right?” 

he was being an asshole. but you listened, for some fucking reason. it was second nature to you, suddenly.

“please, please please, lemme c-cum, please?”

“see? there ya go!” 

he thrusted a little bit deeper, a little bit quicker, palming one of your tits in one hand while gently nipping at your neck, holding you against him. your entire body shook into him as you both reached your climaxes, feeling him cum inside you. 

toji gave one more final thrust into you, turning his nibbles into gentle kisses as he whispered more into your ear.

“god, you feel so fuckin’ good, baby,”

seeing stars, the afterglow had you thinking about your future with this man. after spending hours together, he probably couldn’t name one thing about you. who knows if he even heard you introduce yourself. 

none of that seemed to matter though, as you fantasized about being his sweet little housewife. maybe you’d marry him today, maybe you’d never see him again. something was telling you to settle into this though, and get a little comfortable with being his little distraction every now and then. 

what a waste of time. what a perfect little waste of time.

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 3

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader 

A/N: If you read my Christmas Advent stories then you may be familiar with this story already, however, I've been working hard to turn it into a longer fic and as such a few things have changed (hence the reposts). New chapters will commence next week. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want me to be added to the taglist

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Jensen and I continue texting whenever we can around our busy schedules. I consider more than a few times over the weekend to throw caution to the wind and meet up with him in his hotel room or invite him to my apartment. But in the end, I manage to stay strong, stick to my convictions and better judgements regarding my safety, and text instead. Despite not having the courage to call, it feels like we’re building a connection. But even if I had the courage, he’s been pretty busy and the texts have been sporadic with replies coming in hours apart. He did say he had to work, so I just figure he’s busy with auditions or meetings and am grateful for him making the time to text amidst the chaos. 

One thing I do is Google his name to find out what he’s starred in. His biggest project appears to be a horror show called Supernatural. I consider watching it just to see, but I don’t want to get a false idea of who he is, so I decide to stay blissfully ignorant and try to get to know him for who he is as a person instead. He did say he preferred that, after all.

It’s almost dark when I finally strip off my apron and hang it on the hook in the staff room. I collect my phone and jacket from the locker and return to the dining area to leave. I check my missed notifications as I walk out. I find my mood dropping slightly when I discover there’s none from Jensen. Instead, I scroll through our last text-chain. Suddenly, I collide with something solid–or perhaps I should say, someone, causing my phone to shatter to the floor. I quickly duck down to inspect the screen, only to find it littered with cracks. I sigh and then remember the person I ran into. I look up to apologise but lose all words when I meet his emerald eyes. I just smile in shock. Even with his pulled-down baseball cap and dark sunglasses, and after a single meeting, I instantly recognise him.

“You really gotta stop running into me like this,” the man says with a laugh.

“Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”

“As I recall, that didn’t end well. Regardless, I can’t stay long, I do have a flight to catch. I just really wanted to see you again before I left.”

“You sure you can’t stay?”

“I’m sure. Someday. Let’s just promise to stay in touch.”

“I promise. At least just let me make you something for the road.”

“You look like you’ve already finished for the day. Go rest. You look exhausted. We’ll talk later.”

“Alright. Have a safe flight.”

He pulls me in for a brief hug and then disappears out onto the street and into a dark Range Rover. I smile at the whirlwind visit and then go back to my apartment. I throw a microwave mac and cheese dinner in to cook while I shower and change into my worn-out PJs, which consist of an oversized sweater with a teddy on the front and pink, plaid flannel pants. I’m not sure how long his flight will be but by the time I sit on the couch with my cheap and unappealing dinner in my lap, over an hour has passed. Despite not knowing when he’ll see the message, I decide to text him anyway.

It was great to run into you again *literally*... I am sorry about that, I really need to watch where I’m going Have a nice flight home or wherever you’re going Text me when you get there 

Not expecting a response until later, I put your phone to sleep and flick through the TV channels. To my surprise, Supernatural is airing. I have no idea what episode or season it is, or what they’re up to, but when Jensen’s face appears on the screen I’m unable to bring myself to change the channel. Despite my initial desire to stay ignorant, I just can’t look away. I gasp and try to resist the urge to look away when his character, who you’ve gathered is called Dean, slices off someone or something’s head. But somehow he manages to make decapitation attractive. Every expression on his face keeps my eyes glued and I find myself getting even more engrossed. He tells the story so well even though I don’t really know what the full story is. His taller brother in the show is also incredibly attractive. The longer I watch, the more I find myself not caring about the plot and just enjoying the eye candy instead. Part of me feels a little guilty for looking and thinking about Jensen like that when he seems like such a nice, genuine guy in real life. And he genuinely seems interested in pursuing a friendship — or hopefully more — in the future. 

Once the episode ends I force myself to switch off the TV, clean up and go to bed; I have another early shift tomorrow. As I lay in bed, the images of Dean – or Jensen – flow through my head. Unable to sleep, Idecide to text him again.

I guess you’re still on your flight Just wanted to let you know I saw you on TV tonight Your show Supernatural was on when I was flicking through the channels Can’t say as I picked up on a lot of the plot but I can see why the paparazzi follow you Anyway, I’ll stop bombarding you now Good night

I force myself to switch my phone onto sleep mode and plug it in to charge. As I lay in bed, I relive the impromptu meeting until I finally fall asleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @stoneyggirl2

[xcaptain-winterx]

Wrong Parent

dad!Lloyd Hansen x reader

summary: Lloyd gets mixed up with the wrong person

warnings: fluff, mentions of Lloyds work, biting, nipples, shit

a/n: English is not my first language, meaning you will probably find a lot of misspelling etc.

Main Masterlist Daddy Sociopath Masterlist

A sudden scream comes from down the hallway, interrupting the meeting.

Lloyd looks over his shoulder to the door leading to the hallway. Lloyd turns to look back at the men surrounding the man tied to the chair.

“Gentlemen, if you excuse me, I need to take care of something” a smile appears on his face as he stands up. “Take care of this thing while I’m away” the men nod before turning to face Mr. Kemp again.

Lloyd walks with quick steps down the hallway. He knows what will happen if he doesn’t get there fast enough. Following the sounds Lloyd comes to stand in front of the only door that is not ceiling high. Another cry pierces Lloyds ears, as he unlocks the door. The sight of two small chubby hands, sticking out off the expensive crib greet him. Lloyd steps closer and sees the little infant on their back, tears running down their cheeks and a little pout on their face.

“Hey, junior” Lloyd says as he carefully picks his son up, cradling his head, “what’s wrong?”

He whines, while gripping his dads turtleneck sweater tightly. Lloyd walks around the room, trying to calm him down. “Shh, everything is ok. There’s no reason to cry. Look, even Mr. Mustache is happy” he says, picking up the teddy bear, which is laying in the crib. It was the first stuff animal the baby got. It was custom made, and Lloyd took that as an advantage to give it a mustache. “And you know what? Mr. Mustache would be really happy if you give him a little smile”he brings the bear closer to his face in hopes of making him laugh.

Lloyds plan doesn’t work though, the baby won’t stop.

“Oh come on. What the fudge is wrong-OH SHIT” Lloyd can’t hide the disgust that crosses his face when he hears something heavy enter the diaper, “of course it had to be a shit”. A small giggle is heard.“You like daddy getting frustrated? You are really like your mama” Lloyd speaks as he walks over to the changing table, “ok, remember we are a team”

He makes quick work in getting the onesie and diaper off. “God, what does mama feed you? I know you get her boobies, but I don’t remember having to take such a huge shit when I had them”

After finishing putting on a new diaper and putting Junior back in a onesie, he walks over to the rocking chair, the same rocking chair his wife spent most nights in during her last trimester. Slowly Juniors eyes start to close until you can hear soft little snores.

Lloyd smiles, happy that his son is finally calm again. He carefully puts him down in his crib before deciding to take a shower. He walks into the master bedroom to get to the connected master bathroom. Throwing his clothes off, putting them in a basket because he knows sunshine hates clothes just laying on the floor. He steps into the shower and almost curses at the amount of blood that was still on him. He better not tell mama.

As Lloyd tries to grab his shampoo he sees that it’s not there or in fact nowhere. He must have forgotten to buy some new, no, the servants forgot to get some new one. Someone will definitely have to pay for that.

The only shampoo now there is sunshines, and he grabs it. It’s not a very manly smell, but it’s his favorite smell and it will work till he will get his shampoo.

Lloyd finishes and grabs the towel, wrapping it around his waist before putting some beard shampoo on his mustache.

A cry is heard when Lloyd pulls on his pants. Lloyd lets out a airy laugh, of course LJ decided to start crying the second he’s finished showering. So now he walks back to the nursery, in just his pants, to take care of his little monster.

“what’s wrong now, bubba?”using the nickname sunshine always calls him. He picks him up, holding him against his chest. “You’re probably hungry, right?”, Lloyd says as LJ opens his mouth and puts his hand in it.

He moves LJ a bit in his arms, so he can grab a napkin for safety. “Ok, lets-AHHHHHH” a sudden pain shoots through his left nipple. Lloyd looks down and sees his son sucking and biting at his nipple. “FUCK NO” Lloyd pulls his son away from his body, holding him at arm length. A growl leaves his mouth.

“Did you just seriously did what I think you did?” he says with a stern voice “Do I look like mama”. His son reaches for him with closed eyes.

“Mwaaa” screams LJ.

Lloyd looks at him confused, “Hold up, do you think I’m mama?”. Lloyd holds him to his chest again and immediately LJ tries to go for his boob again. Quick Lloyd pulls LJ away before his nipple gets attacked again. Then he realizes.

Not only did he use the nickname his wife calls their son but also used her shampoo. Now Lloyd also realizes that his son got his eyes closed, meaning that he didn’t even see him.

“I’m not mama, see”, Lloyd holds him so he’s face to face with his son. He brings him closer and puts one of his sons small hands on his mustache. “It’s daddy not mama”

He gives his daddy a smile, ‘slapping’ his cheeks. “Aww hitting daddy after you already bit him? That’s not very nice.” Lloyd gives him a kiss on the forehead before finally walking out off the room to get some milk with LJ.

“Do I have such big boobs?”

[sephtissss]

God was playing a prank on me when he decided I couldn’t draw bc why am I plagued with visions of feminine Neil AND I CAN’T SHARE IT????? Pls I have SPECIFICS.

The internet is talking about Neil again. He’s prone to scandal, but this time it’s not his fault. Conservative exy fans are PISSED bc he decides to grow out his hair past shoulder length and his face is just too pretty (This is canon) so with the long hair combo they think he looks too girly (and ofc Neil claps back with a long response on twitter that basically just says Fuck You but with a Kendrick diss track level of animosity). ANYHOO

One of his favorite fits rn are these oversized overalls that Renee bought but couldn’t fit. He wears them year round with a lose t-shirt on warm days and thick sweatshirts/sweaters on cold days. You’ll often see him around campus in these overalls with his hair down or maybe pulled half up.

And the VISION I had of Neil in 2 French braids that just reach his shoulders. Dan thought it would be fun to braid his hair since it’s gotten so long and Neil genuinely loves the braids and refused to take them out. He looks adorable in his sweatshirt just chilling in the lounge after practice.

Allison teaches him how to do makeup and at first Neil finds it a pointless hassle and quickly decides he doesn’t want to waste time hiding his scars. But the eye makeup was kinda fun and he found he liked playing with the colors and glitter. And he always liked when Andrew wore eyeliner when they go to Edens so he wouldn’t mind putting on some quick makeup when he feels like it. Sometimes it completes the look :)

During after game interviews, Neil has his hair pulled up in a ponytail and he’s wearing his bandana but he still manages to get long strands of hair plastered to his face with sweat and its not not a good look…

Occasionally people spot him on the street during his runs in his usual atrocious running shorts and hair pulled back or walking casually, hair in a bun and his shorts and baggy tee combo (Neil is LUCKY those big ass jorts are trending). One day he sticks a pencil in his bun and forgets about it all day and it kinda slayed.

At banquets and formal interviews/events, Neil likes playing with makeup and wearing loose flowy pants that, when he stands with his legs together, look like a skirt.

Dan and Matt have gifted him a lot of jewelry over the years, so now Neil has a collection of rings and necklaces that he wears occasionally. He likes the look of them but they do tend to bother him if he wears them for too long. They tend to be reserved for Edens or banquets.

Andrew is getting gayer every day but he’s lowkey part of the problem. He studies Neil’s new style and buys him SO much clothes. That man spoils his not-boyfriend so much. He’ll be at Target buying like batteries or smth and then randomly come across pretty hair clips or some pants he knows Neil will love. Oh he’s definitely responsible for Neil’s entire shoe collection bc that man would wear the same ratty old sneakers every day if it weren’t for the red converse and doc martens that Andrew bought him.

Anyhoo, that’s pretty much it. It’s been almost 2 years since he’s been on the run and Neil’s realizing what his style really is. Clothes have no gender, he likes the look of his long hair (which is very different from his dad’s hair), and he’ll wear whatever the fuck he wants thank you very much.

[devildomwriter]

City Sidewalks, Busy Sidewalks, Dressed in Holiday Style | Thirteen x Reader

.9K words | GN! Reader | CW: none, just fluff and fun

The snow gently fell as you stroked down the slippery sidewalks of the city. Everything was lit up, there were carolers on every corner. The windows of every shop were decorated for Christmas with big sale signs. You could feel the happy energy in the air. You were happy too, not just for Christmas but because you were shopping with Lucifer’s card and you had Thirteen with you to do it.

She was dressed in a faux fur coat and rocking a pair of sunglasses. She blended right in with the big city while you prioritized comfort over appearance. That’s why the first thing she did when you met up was drag you into a high-end clothing store.

Thanks to that you had dozens of bags on your arms.

“You’re totally going to freeze in that,” Thirteen said with concern.

“My sweater is plenty fine to protect me. Your gloves are too thin.”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“Then what about your tights? Aren’t those too thin?”

“Have you forgotten who I am? The cold doesn’t bother me.”

“Okay, Elsa.”

“Who’s Elsa?”

“You’re going to learn when we get back home.”

“Sounds fun,” she grinned and spotted another store she wanted to look in.

She grabbed your hand and pulled you after her. “Let’s check out this place!”

“Hobby Lobby?” You questioned and she nodded.

“This place looks perfect for some things I can get for traps and they have a big sale right now too!”

You sighed and agreed. You made a mental note to warn Solomon later but he’d probably be fine either way. Seeing how Thirteen smiled just planning a trap made you question whether or not to ruin it.

You decided Solomon would probably live and seeing what Thirteen had planned was too interesting to pass up so you relented and followed her in the crowd.

“Yikes. They’re so many humans here,” she groaned.

“Of course there is. It’s Christmas in a couple of days and people of all ages benefit from this store.”

“Ugh. I don’t even wanna know what those lines are going to look like if I can’t get down the aisle…”

She was right. You both found a few things you’d like and she made a note in her D.D.D. of which items she’d need to locate later.

You stepped outside with a few more things than you entered with and checked her notes. You looked around and spotted a superstore.

“Hey, Thirteen. I think that store will have the springs you’re looking for,” you advised and her eyes lit up.

“Nice! Good job, __! Let’s go, I wonder if they’re having a sale too.”

“Probably.”

“Perfect! This really is the best time to be in the city, huh?”

You nodded and took her hand to wait by the crosswalk light. She looked at all the cars passing and the crowd around you, also waiting to cross.

“Can’t we just walk?”

“No, we’ll die.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone reap your soul.”

“Okay, well we can’t do that in front of all the witnesses.”

Thirteen huffed and relented, waiting for the crosswalk signal. When it did she seemed surprised by how quickly the crowd moved, not worried about bumping into each other. She squeezed your hand, making sure not to lose you.

You made it safely to the other side and walked around the corner of the block. The doors slid open as people rushed in and out.

“Maybe you should teleport your bags back home, aren’t your arms getting sore?”

“A little bit,” you agreed. “We just have to find somewhere no one will see it.”

“What about the alleyway?”

“Trust me, never go into the allies in the city.”

She tilted her head in confusion but took a minute to think about it. “Yeah…I suppose I do reap a good amount of souls from alleyways.”

“Comforting…”

“Okay, what about the bathrooms.” She checked for the bathrooms and found herself at the end of a long line. “I…don’t even want to know the state of the bathroom. Let’s try something else.”

You nodded and followed her around the aisles, arms growing heavier as you did so. She took a few from you. After all, she’d been the one to insist you buy yourself some nicer winter clothes to match hers.

You finally found an aisle with only a few people. “We just need a distraction…” she mumbled and you began to sweat nervously.

“Uh-oh, don’t tell me you brought—“

“Happy the holiday lobster!”

The name alone had people turning to see her as she whipped out a magic mini-canon with a live lobster inside.

“Oh no…”

The isles went from wild to wild and loud as Thirteen distracted everyone and tried to catch the lobster before someone ran off with it for Christmas dinner.

“Hey! Don’t mess with Happy!” She shouted. You quickly teleported the bags, successfully unnoticed, and began chasing back after Thirteen and the strange man who’d picked up the lobster and started running.

“Thirteen!”

“Happy!”

After a few minutes, you rescued the lobster and changed clothes to disguise yourselves. Unfortunately, you had to do so in the bathroom after cutting the line and pissing off everyone there.

“What was that guy’s deal?” She grumbled.

“The lobster.”

“Clearly. Who steals lobsters?”

“Who shoots them out of canons?”

“You’re just jealous I have such amazing taste,” she winked. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be with you.”

You blushed and rolled your eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”