· · Just In: Kento Nanami Isn’t Tolerating His Young Hot Neighbor Party Habits, Here’s What He

the prince [2]

✢summary: what happens when your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

✢tags: arranged marriage gojo satoru x reader, reader is a clan kid, she’s v traditional, obvious cat and jon snow references

✢tw: implications of cheating, mentioned abuse, misogyny ig, fanfic gojo, ooc gojo

✢ a/n: here's part 2! i'd like to emphasize that depsite this being a gojo x reader fic, the main realationships i'll be focusing on are y/n and the kids gojo brings home lmao. also im raw dogging the lore as we go so if there are any inconsistencies, please lmk. as always, have fun and lmk what you think!

i don’t do taglists.

part one ✢ masterlist

If it were up to you, you would have shut the gates of the Gojo estate as soon as the child entered the grounds, but your husband had given him the the maids so quickly that you’re sure they have spread the word around already. You could hear the rumors in your head. Gojo Satoru has brought home a child out of wedlock. Gojo Y/N is barren. Gojo Satoru has a mistress.

You expected Gojo to be frantic, stumbling over his words in explanation as to why he has a son- it was his son, there was no doubt about that- reassuring you about his vows remain unbroken, or whatever else but silence. You are silent too as you watch the child get scurried away by the estate staff to scrub the dirt off his face and to get a change of clothes.

Even as he is being escorted away from you, his cursed energy did not fade. You feel it like how everyone feels Gojo’s, but more raw and untamed. Whoever this child is, it is Gojo Satoru reborn again. 

Silence. Silence is what took the Gojo estate into a chokehold as the maids finish bathing the child and then put him in a spare bedroom a good distance away from yours. The maids must think you resent him. 

Satoru pretends like everything is the same as if the boy had been there since the beginning. During the first night, you watch with a blank face as the cake you've baked for him is eaten by the child. Neither the boy nor Satoru expresses their gratitude towards you. You doubt they even know you baked it.

To his credit, Satoru had treated the child better than you had expected. He is blossoming into fatherhood, you realize and you feel the rage and anger burn in your stomach.

He pats the boy's head and messes his hair, before pointing to his own messy mane exclaiming, "See? We match!"

Satoru had tried to include you in conversations with the boy, even daring to seat him on his right at meals. Satoru would blab after seeing the child gobble mochi. "Mochi is Y/N's favorite too!" He turns to look at you with a bright smile. "Right, Y/N?"

You want to point out that the boy had gobbled everything served to him, but you just give a brief nod.

At night, you sleep like a log- rigid, straight, and quiet. Satoru, on the other hand, remains comfortable, snoozing the day's exhaustion behind him.

Tonight will be the same as it has been for the past few weeks. You stare at yourself in the mirror of your vanity, wondering if your reflection is the perfect example of a foolish woman. How stupid of you to think he was different.

There was nothing but quiet as you prepare yourself to sleep, brushing your hair quietly. You hear the door creak but you do not turn and greet him with a smile like you used to.

“I expected you to be more emotional about this,” came Satoru's words beside you. Me too, you want to reply but held your mouth shut.

You had expected yourself to scream, and let your anger flow through your voice. You wanted to cry until your tears were dry and there wasn't any left. Neither you nor Satoru would be surprised if you use your technique against him in a fit of fury, and if you truly knew your husband, you know he'd take your anger like it was penance. You want to be the fire that burns him badly. But you did none of those.

You are as cold as their blue eyes. You are quiet.

You continue to brush your hair.

"Do you want me to get rid of him?" offers Satoru. "Just say the word, and I will."

You blink in surprise. You meet his eyes in the mirror. Satoru looks nonchalant in his posture with his hands in his pockets. But the fact that his glasses were nowhere to be seen tells you he is not joking.

Your ears recall the promise he made months ago. My wife, my equal. A promise to try, to try to be happy to spite everyone who was determined to make your lives miserable. 

The sudden exhaustion hit you, your shoulders slumping from your previous postures. You lean back, letting your nape rest on the back of the chair. You stare at the ceiling, your head forbidding you to forget how the child looked like. White hair. Blue eyes. You hear Satoru sigh somewhere near you. You hear his footsteps come. From your peripheral, you see his figure beside you. A feather-like hesitant hand touches your shoulder. “I was not unfaithful to you.”

Satoru moves to kneel in front of your sitting figure. He reaches out to your head, and touches his forehead against yours. You find yourself looking up at his eyes, the same shade of eyes that he shares with the child. His hands cradle your face, desperate for you to believe him. “Please. Please, Y/N.”

You remain silent. 

“You’re the only one I have left, Y/N, please.” He begs. There are tears threatening to spill down to his pretty face, and you find some sick satisfaction in them.

That is not true. Your husband has his clan, his estate servants, his high school friends, and his teachers. It is you that has no one but him. By your culture’s traditions, you do not belong to your clan anymore. You know that some elders have begun to doubt their choice in choosing you as the wife of Gojo Satoru with the obvious lack of children, but with the sudden appearance of Gojo-sama’s bastard child, they might annul your marriage by force- or, god forbid, cast you aside for another, more fertile woman.

You do not wish to share your thoughts, but your husband grips your head so desperately. You have made a god beg.

“I know.” You say. The child may be young, but he was old enough to walk and talk small phrases on his own. He must be at least two years old. The child is older than your marriage.

His shoulders immediately drop in relief before quickly detangling himself from you and wrapping his arms around your waist. He slides his head to hide in your neck and like instinct, you welcome him wrapping your hands around his waist.

"Where would you leave him?" You manage to ask, still not believing his offer.

"The cabin," he says. You can see the cracks on your husband now. You spot his hand making a fist inside his pockets, like it pains him to speak. “The one by Nagasaki, remember? I’ll send a maid and give him money every month. We can send him right now. The maids will not say anything outside the estate, not if I threaten to chop their tongues off. We can send him off with a caretaker to a cabin somewhere and leave him there. I- I can visit him a few times a year- just to make sure he’s fine.”

You blink. You did not expect Satoru to offer that. You let the fantasy linger in your head. You imagine the boy’s life so far- abandoned by his mother and unknown by his father. Children do not understand things the way older people do, so it is up to the adults to help and explain certain things. But he has not had an adult in his life before. Would you be happy if you were left alone in the cabin in the middle of the woods with no one but a caretaker for company? Better yet- will the caretaker even stay to care for him without anyone around?

That sounds incredibly lonely, you realize. The premise sounds all too familiar to you- an empty house with no one but servants. But this boy will only get one.

He needs people to protect him, but you are unsure if you’d like to. Your instincts tell you to agree, get rid of the boy before he becomes more of a threat.

“Satoru,” you say slowly, thinking of your next words carefully. “He is just child. He is no danger to me.”

You hold your breath, suprised to hear the words out of your mouth. From your lap, Satoru holds your gaze- piercing eyes trying to read your mind. If he caught your lie he does not show it.

"Are you sure?"

No. "Yes."

-

Hiroki. Satoru had names him Gojo Hiroki.

He spends most of his days inside the estate surrounded by maids or inside his room playing with the toys you off-handedly ordered the day after he arrived. The maids gush about him already, the older ones excitedly murmuring how the little lord acts so much like your husband as a child. You would be a fool not to agree.

Hiroki runs barefoot through the estate, tracking mud on precious tatami floors before a servant finally catches him. He likes people, likes the maids and the servants, and thus has migrated to the kitchen a few weeks after his arrival like he was addicted to places were people are the most. He draws. He draws so much it’s almost ridiculous. You could have a library full of childish scribbles.

Like your husband, he devours his dessert the best before any dish. He eats mochi, ice cream, cookies and whatever sweets there are on the table like it was his last meal. You recall one of the maids gasp as a drop of cream lands on your cheek when he slammed his fork in his cake. 

Satoru is free in his affection for the boy, unexpectedly flourishing in fatherhood. He remains firm in his belief that children should be children and makes an effort to see Hiroki out. Satoru becomes known to sneak the child away from the estate to parks, to mini-vacations you begrudgingly join after Satoru’s incessant pestering. And of course- school. Hiroki made history once again when Satoru announced his decision to enroll Hiroki in a totally normal, public Japanese preschool.

You realize that Satoru was meant to be a father. And one good one at that. It brings you comfort that any children that he is at least good to his son after he confessed his plan to be a teacher after graduation.

Tokyo’s jujutsu highschool would be blessed with his presence, thought one of Satoru’s female seniors would disagree.

“Yo, Y/N-chan,” came a voice.

You twist your body over to the source of the voice, and your face lights up at the sight of a familiar face. “Getou-san!”

If Satoru's presence is an overwhelming force, making everyone and everything bow to him as if he is god, Getou is a dark, uneasy, slinking feeling. His cat-like features morph into a happy expression with a polite smile on his lips.

“Is there a mission today?” You ask as Getou comes nearer. Satoru would try his best to keep any of his classmates away from his estate, but there is nothing he can hide from Getou and Shoko. "Can I come?"

After you had let slip that you wanted to become a licensed sorcerer, Satoru had made it a habit to sneak you into some missions with Getou. You had fretted about the technical legalities and questioned the safety of the public when an inexperienced sorcerer like you enter the battlefield but Satoru merely shrugged and simply gestured to his best friend. We're the strongest!

Getou leans his shoulder on the wall. "Nope, not this one Y/N."

“I see,” you say, failing to hide your disappointment. Sometimes you wonder why you enjoy the missions so much. Was it the thrill of doing something you never would? Perhaps it was the freedom of it all, unleashing your power to poor curses who quiver beneath your feet?

Your ears perked at a familiar high pitched laugh, and your eyes immediately lock to the window where Hiroki soon runs across. He has dried soil on his feet. His pale hair is slicked back with sweat and it glistens against the sun like snow.

A maid forces a laugh in panic as she tries to catch him with his shoes on one hand.

Away from him. That’s why you enjoy it.

Getou follows your line of sight. “How is he?”

You glare at him. “How would I know?”

Everyone knows that Hiroki is a taboo topic if it’s within your earshot, lest they want the you in a foul mood. But Getou does not shy away from his question and only raises an eyebrow, calling your bluff.

“You’re telling me you do not know your own household?”

“The garden is his place,” you sigh., and admitting it felt like defeat. “He likes the grass on his feet and likes big spaces. He gets angsty when a room is too small.”

“Mmhm,” Getou agrees. “Did you know Satoru plans to enroll him in a daycare?”

Your eyes widen in horror. “In a- what?” You shriek. “He has a dozen of servants here willing to serve him-! Does he even realize the risk he’s putting the boy in? Assassins, curses, cursed users…” you trail off, remembering your own childhood. It was strange to be surrounded by servants but feeling so alone at the same time. “I see.” A daycare meant potential friends, friends that you never got to have. “Does…does the boy like it at least?”

“Me?” Getou barks out a surprised laugh. “Shouldn’t you know that?”

You glare at him. Getou meets your gaze unapologetically, almost as if he was challenging you. Finally, he sighs. “Have you ever talked to him at least?”

You roll your eyes. Your sharp tone echoes around the room. “And why would I do that? He is no concern to me.”

"He needs you."

"He does not need me," you snap, suddenly impatient for Satoru to come out of wherever he’s hiding so Getou and him can go. “He will resent me when he’s older, I know it.”

You have seen this same scene over and over again. Children and the wife of the husband do not get along. Both suffer at the existence of the other. This is the fate that Satoru had subjected you to. This is the fate you have set upon yourself when you refused to send him away. You wonder if your kindness will cost you one day.

“Well,” Getou shrugged nonchalantly. “You haven’t given him any reason to like you either.”

You opened your mouth to retort, only to be interrupted by Satoru.

“Getouu,” he whined, comically trudging towards his best friend with a hunched back. “Why are you so early?”

You see Getou open his mouth to reply, but you are lost in your head. You watch Getou ignore Satoru’s childish gimmicks, already dragging him out of the room and towards the door. You feel Satoru kiss your cheek before waving goodbye, but your head was in a daze mindlessly repeating Getou’s words. You feel shiver creep down your spine before shifting your gaze towards the garden where Hiroki’s presence was last.

-

thank you so much for reading guys! i’d love to hear all criticisms and suggestions for this universe <33 please lmk through comments :>

here’s my masterlist

hmm

Dad Levi / “Dadvi” Headcanons (1/?)

The best partner to have for those random midnight crying fits - uncontested. He is, more than likely, already awake anyways and is always the first to hear them stir.

When rolling out of bed, sometimes whispers “little brat” under his breath - but with a pitiful tone, not one of annoyance. It’s the closest he gets to “poor thing”.

A secret goal of his: he hopes to take care of them before/without you waking up.

Has a naturally keen ear for what they need. Based on their cries and wails, he can tell if they’re hungry, need a change, whatever.

Really, he never gets angry with their crying. The upset he feels is just sorrow for them. It’s that fatherly instinct.

In an odd way, it often gives him a pained smile. This cute little thing is just a little hungry, just a little fussy, and has no idea how bad things can be - he’s determined to make sure they don’t find out.

// // //

Always knows just how to coo them. Innately understands when they need cuddles, swaddles, bounces, a nap.

“Hey. They need a nap. I’m going to put them down, alright?”

A cool, low, calm voice is perfect for lullabies. However, more often than not, he falls asleep with them. With the baby’s consistent need for sleep and his spontaneous schedule, they regularly take naps together even just on accident.

Reclining on the sofa, he keeps the baby laid across his front: heartbeats meeting, pillow cheek against his hardened clavicle, their chubby arms looped around his neck.

// // //

The first time your little one tried store-bought baby food was the last time. At their scrunched face, “What’s the matter? Don’t like it?”

Levi himself tried a bite and matched their expression, “The hell? No wonder you hate that shit.”

So instead, in the solid food stage, he chops up the fruits in perfectly symmetric little chunks. Puts on an apron to do it (making your heart go boink).

Feeding the spoonfuls of food is one of his favorite parts of parenting. You thought he would hate the messy process, but he feels a sense of satisfaction when scooping the mishaps from their cheeks and into their mouth. Also, he cracks up at their facial reactions.

“Not a fan of kiwi.”

“Tasty apple, huh?”

Meanwhile, you stand in the hallway biting your sleeve, holding back those smiles and giggles. He is completely unwound when he thinks its just them two, and you wouldn’t want to miss that for the world.

NEED A LITTLE HELP ♡ MSBY4 (mostly bokuto because i lov him :P)

msby4 x fem!reader

sugar level: 1.2k

allergen warning/s: [everything’s kinda light because this one shot’s just really short] gangbang, double penetration (three actually), anal, facefucking, use of one (1) toy, daddy kink, cervix kissing, voyeurism & masturbation

regulars: @hanayanetwork​

bon appetit!

okay, but imagine being bokuto kotaro’s s/o. you’re always so sweet to him and you always show up to support him during his matches. you’d be wearing one of his jerseys, you’d have a cute little handmade sign for him, and every single time, you were always the one cheering the loudest after he hits a wicked spike that breaks right through the opponents three-man block, showing everyone in that arena exactly why he was the msby black jackals’ ace.

but other than your larger-than-life presence when you were cheering him on, there were other reasons why he was convinced that you were his good luck charm.

every night before a big match, you’d always let him fuck you the way he wants to, letting him have all control over your body - except for when you call out the safe word, of course -, having him use your body as if it was nothing but a mere fleshlight for him to use, a sex toy bouncing on his lap so obediently, taking his cock like you were made for it – and really, since you knew that you two were made for each other, in a way it was.

but there were days when you’re insatiable. always wanting more! more! more!

more cock,

more cum,

more tongue,

more! more! more!

Keep reading

starting a collection

links to each post - please go show some love <3

nursery friends

Part 2 of ‘Bird Watching’ aka hot construction worker Simon x single mom

In truth, lying was something that came second nature to Simon Riley

He’d lied to his teachers in school about where he got his bruises and burn marks from, if they bothered to ask

He’d lied to his brother while their parents argued on the other side of the wall, telling him that everything would be okay

He’d lied to his dad about where he’d been all night, telling him he was making less money at the butcher job than he really was

Whatever lie he had to give to get through the day, get through the night, get through his childhood, he would offer up without so much as batting an eye

And as he got older, he started stretching the truth for different reasons

Whatever his CO’s needed to hear from him in order to let him do his job, then he’d let them hear it, true or not

Whenever people started asking too many questions, well-equipped sarcasm became his right hand man in avoiding the truth

Lying had always come in handy for Simon, whether it was a life or death situation or goading Soap into believing an obviously fictitious story, carefully chosen words and slight exaggerations had never steered him wrong before

This one, however?

Well, as he sat in an all too colourful daycare office with murals of ducks and bunnies watching over his every move, Simon began to wonder if this was one lie he shouldn’t have told

But then again, he wasn’t telling this lie out of malice, or greed, or ill-intent… he was doing this for you

Because at the end of the day, he’d be lying to no one apart from himself if he were deny how often you popped into his head

Ever since he’d first squinted through the glaring sun and spotted you through that flimsy chain link fence, since he’d heard your voice over the rumble and roar of construction behind him, since he’d spent less than ten whole minutes talking to you, it was as though something within him had started brewing, started changing

Similar to two live wires coincidentally meeting until an inevitable spark shoots through the air, akin to a wind chime that hadn’t rang out in years suddenly beginning to sway to and fro with the promise of strong winds on the horizon, or closer yet to that moment Franklin’s key and kite were struck by lightning and history was forever changed, meeting you had stirred something loose within Simon

For too long now, Simon felt as though he were nothing more than a man stuck behind the wheel, lost in the storm on an infinite stretch of road that would never lead him towards home, no matter how many maps or compasses or tools he may have, he was on a steady cruise control headed nowhere

But since he’d met you, since he’d learned about the situation you were in, you and your sweet little baby bird just as alone as him and up against the world, since he’d made up his mind and decided he’d help you in whatever capacity you’d allow, it was almost as if the fog had cleared from his tired eyes, as though he was finally glancing up from the maps and realizing that ‘home’ could be down any stretch of road he took, if he was willing to take it

You’d stumbled into his life on an afternoon like any other, instantly making a home for yourself in the recesses of his brain by that very same evening

His eyes now were constantly glancing at the phone number now tacked onto his fridge as he went about his routine, your smile appearing behind his eyelids as he tried in vain to fall asleep at night, or the image of the soft swell of your cleavage bouncing as you’d walked away playing on a loop in his mind until he’d accept he wasn’t going to be getting any shut eye until he allowed his hands to slip beneath the blankets

His early mornings were no longer spent cursing having to be up before the sun, instead he found himself staring at the empty spot across from him at the table, wondering if you were awake too, perhaps trying to soothe a fussy baby back to sleep, or feeding her from the same swollen breasts Simon selfishly wished he could suckle from as well

Or were you still laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you too struggled to fall asleep? Too worried about finding your baby bird a spot somewhere before the money ran out? Stressing yourself over things that Simon wished he could fix for you? That he knew he could fix for you?

Less than 24 hours after your first conversation, Simon had hounded just about every living and breathing soul working on the construction site, determined to come up with at least some bit of information, someone to contact, something that would lead him in the right direction, but everyone seemed to be just as in the dark as he was

He wasn’t easily deterred however, nor was he lacking in imagination, when he decided he was unwilling to return to his flat that night without being at least one step closer to having a valid excuse for calling the number that called out to him each time he walked through his kitchen, and so if no one apart from Simon happened to notice that every single blueprint disappeared from the site that night, well that was just unfortunate wasn’t it?

He’d nearly missed the phone call he’d been hoping to get the next morning, preoccupied with having to change his bed sheets after having dreamt of you again all night as visions of your soft body had him feeling like a teenaged boy again, he managed to snag his phone just before the ringer ended

As expected, the site manager had been on the other line, practically beside himself as he told Simon how he’d arrived at the site and discovered that some troublesome teenagers must have snuck in during the night and done away with their building plans, asking Simon if he wouldn’t mind driving to the supervisor’s office and snagging some copies

Simon had already been halfway out the door before he’d hung up

The foreman’s office was cluttered beyond belief, disorganized chaos he sifted through carefully to find the one piece of information he needed, and there amongst the loose papers and pencils and measuring tapes, was the next piece to the puzzle he was slowly solving; the buyers contact information

The blueprints were delivered back to the site in no time, having been kept safe in the back of Simon’s truck the entire time, and a carefully concocted story about needing to run to grab supplies for the job was believed by everyone as the tall man climbed back in behind the wheel and weighed his options

He could reach out to you now, he’d been able to find you the owner’s name, along with an email and phone number to contact, the promise he’d made to you was done, his duty fulfilled

He knew he could call, and you’d be overjoyed to hear from him, that you would be eternally grateful for his help, thanking him endlessly… but that would be the end of it, wouldn’t it? His role would be fulfilled, his duty done and over with, no other valid excuses for you to keep him within your orbit, he’d just be a kind stranger who’d done you an incredibly kind favour

But as Simon pondered that choice, he wondered, why stop here?

You were alone with a newborn, stressed enough as it was, you didn’t need more work being added onto your already full plate, he may as well go the extra mile and help you out even more, right?

At least, that’s what Simon kept telling himself now, as he sat in a too small chair inside of a much too colourful office, avoiding the judgemental eyes of the painted woodland creatures staring at him, as though they knew what his intentions were, waiting for none other than the owner herself

“Hi there, sorry to have kept you waiting.” The woman says as she walks in, reaching a hand out to greet him as he stands to meet her halfway. “My assistant director says you’re here from our newest expansion? The East end location?”

“Yes ma’am, that’d be the one.” Simon offers politely, lowering himself back into the chair he hardly fits in once she rounds the desk and sits down as well. It would make sense that that was what her assistant has told her, as that was the story Simon had offered, reasoning that he had to speak with the owner about the project, not giving them much choice when he showed up to the office unannounced

“There aren’t any issues with construction so far, are there? We shouldn’t be expecting any delays?” She questions, getting straight to the point. Simon appreciates that she isn’t wasting any time with small talk, he also wants this done quick, he’s got a pretty bird waiting on him after all

“No ma’am. Everythin’s on track so far.” He replies easily, omitting the small hiccups she doesn’t need to know about. “M’afraid that’s not why I’m ‘ere today.”

“Well, what can I help you with then?” She questions, an over plucked brow raising as she tilts her head

“Had a few questions ‘bout the nursery we’re buildin’ for ya.”

“Oh, well- I believe the specifications were in the plans for-”

“Not so much ‘bout the building itself, ma’am.” He cuts her off, not unkindly, but clarifying his point. “Was more so wondering ‘bout- well, it’s a decently big plot o’ land we’re working on. How many lil’ ones are meant be in there?” He asks, trying his best to ease his way into this conversation

“Currently, plans are set to have two preschool classes, two toddlers classes, as well as an infant class. With full capacity we could have up to 88 children in the centre. Why are-”

“How many of those spots are for the babes?”

“We can have up to 10 infants at most.”

“Alrigh’, and how many o’ those spots are available?” He finally asks, cutting to the chase, ripping the bandaid off. Simon watches understanding cross her face and she lets out a small scoff, not rude, but more so like she knew she should have expected as much

“Ah, I see now.” She says with a knowing smile sent his way. “I appreciate your interest in our centre, and I understand nursery spots have been scarce in the city, but I have to be honest sir, we do have a wait list policy. There are numerous families already signed up wi-”

“It’s a little girl.” Simon cuts her off firmly this time, not wanting to entertain whatever rejection she was preparing to give him. No, he wouldn’t be leaving here without good news for you, he couldn’t do that. He ignores the painted birds mocking eyes as he steels himself as presses on. “She’s just a tiny thing. Eight weeks old, almost nine now I suppose. Her mum’s got to be back to work, hasn’t got much of a choice. There’s no family ‘round to help or nothin’. She needs this spot for her.”

The woman’s lips thin as she looks at him with understanding, with sympathy, none of the things Simon cares to see unless she’s nodding her head in agreement. He knew it might take a little push to convince whoever was behind the desk to do the right thing, to help him do right by his birdie and her baby bird, and so he’s not ashamed, nor above saying:

“I’ll make sure the job’s done early.”

At this, both her brows now shoot up, obvious intrigue now painted across her features as she blinks at him.

“Pardon?”

“I will see to it that everything is ready ahead of schedule. Personally. The sooner the place is open, the sooner you start making money, the sooner kids are in and sooner parents are happy. Everyone wins.”

Simon watches her ponders his words, gears turning in her head as she thinks it over. She could easily refute him, call him out for being out of line and send him on his way, tail tucked between his legs. But Simon knows a desperate person when he sees one, knows just what people want to hear, and so he isn’t surprised when she’s suddenly standing from her desk, crossing the room to shut the slightly ajar door, and he smiles to himself slightly, knowing he’s won.

“Now when you say ahead of schedule-”

“Could have ‘er ready by the end of the month. I’ll pull the strings, make it happen. You leave it to me and it’ll be done.” He answers easily, confidently, like there is no question in his mind he can offer up such promises and see them through to fruition. Hell, he’d build the entire goddamn thing by himself day and night if that’s what she wanted to hear, whatever would convince her

“I mean-” she says, letting out a long sigh as she leans back in her chair, opening up a drawer and rummaging through for something or another. “I can’t lie, this wouldn’t be the first time we’ve made exceptions for someone, especially one of our own builders.”

Simon nods along, pleased with the way this is going thus far, though things take an abrupt turn when she next says:

“I would still like to meet with your wife and daughter first, just to iron out the enrolment details and confirm whether this would be a good fit, but I can- I could potentially find a way to make this work.”

And Simon knows this is the moment where he’s supposed to correct her, where he’s supposed to speak up and clarify that no, you aren’t his wife and she isn’t his daughter, that she’s misunderstood him and that the two of you are strangers he met earlier this week- fuck he doesn’t even know your baby’s name yet for crying out loud- all of this could fall apart tremendously as soon as she asks even a single question that he won’t have the answer to, potentially jeopardizing this entire thing for you and her, and yet-

“Brilliant. The missus will be thrilled.”

Alrighty first off, apologies for the delay between posts, writers block and life in general are so ew, but we’re so back babe

All the love on the first part was so unexpected and so so appreciated!!! Y’all have me looking like this with every comment and reblog and tag-

Gonna strive to have part 3 out before the end of the weekend hopefully, don’t want to keep you all waiting so long again

- M 🫶🏻

ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT Top Banana - 1x02