Can't Stop Thinking About Single Dad Nanami Whose Son Yuuji Accidentally Throws A Paper Airplane Onto

can't stop thinking about single dad nanami whose son yuuji accidentally throws a paper airplane onto your neighboring balcony, and is so excited when you make it more aerodynamic and throw it back to him.

nanami watches as you teach yuuji to fold the planes better from your own balcony, the two of you sending them soaring to each other, caught in the air like little swallows, dancing on the breeze. yuuji is laughing wildly, the loneliness that is rooted deep in him melting away, and you're smiling too, big and wide and captivating.

he has to call yuuji in for dinner just as you're teaching him to make a more complicated plane, all dips and folds and creases in the paper. you're good at it, with clever, deft hands. you give nanami a little wave as he steps onto the balcony; he gives you a small nod.

yuuji shouts his goodbye, waving energetically as nanami chivvies him inside. as they step into the apartment, nanami hears you laugh, the sound caught on the wind and carried through the closing door.

he buys a book on paper airplanes that night.

Dad!Nanami

Here is a little story/headcanon I cooked up for dad!Nanami, I hope you guys like it.

Warnings: none, sorry for the format though it looks a little crowded

Let me know how I did! I love any feedback or requests! I want to be more active on this page hopefully this February!

<3

He’s on the phone with another client, trying to tie up loose ends from home, while still having to bring work home with him; 

He promised to spend more time with you and the baby not long ago, making sure he didn’t miss the opportunities to make memories with you and his daughter. 

It wasn’t a hard decision to make, telling the higher-ups to deal with it, knowing that he was needed to keep this company alive and thriving. 

Even though he hated this job and the people who made it successful. But he didn’t need money for just himself anymore. He needed to provide for you and his beloved daughter. 

Sometimes he did have to make calls from home, hiding his work self away from you as he grumbled and huffed as he heard the specific phone ring from his office. 

Both of you had breakfast before, cutting up her food and while you talked to him about the day

It was the only time he truly felt peace. You tried to keep him comfortable and keep him talking since you knew that he loved to talk about anything other than his feelings. 

Hearing the phone ring brought a frown to his face, handing the spoon to you while kissing your daughter’s head and your cheek, as he walked slowly to the annoying ringing noise.  

You loved to watch him be so dramatic. It was the only time he really showed other emotions, rather than his work embodiment (strict and composed) that his coworkers see. 

You and your daughter love to sneak in during his phone calls, trying not to distract him (that's a complete lie) and mess with his desk that's too clean and organized. He gives you an annoyed look, one that doesn’t reflect how he feels for you, that look is only for his job. His eyes roll with a comedic slowness. “Only a few more hours,” you mouth to him. 

Kissing his frowning lips with the loudest smack to make his cheeks blush just a little before you leave. You knew his coworkers heard him, he knew it too. Did he care? Absolutely not. 

Your daughter would linger; her finished coloring page in her hand, as she stood by his chair, his attention to the phone was completely forgotten as his eyes would match her glowing ones. His smile beaming as she whispers about what she colored, explaining the whole story she made up in her head, obviously one of the squiggles in the drawing is him and she's so proud of it. He puts it up next to all the other drawings she’s made for him, hung up on the windows to his office to show everyone in the entire world that she’s the best artist. 

You’d feel his hands stir you awake as your head jumps from the couch suddenly. His hand running down your back gently pulling you from sleep as he told you dinner was almost ready. You beamed and almost cried at the gesture. He knew that working from home was easier for both of you but that wasn’t enough for him. 

All his time was catered towards taking care of his family, nothing else mattered. He wouldn’t even take calls from work (or Gojo) after 7, and they all knew that. 

He loved to see your sweet smile pull gently towards your cheeks, pulling your daughter closer to your chest as she slept soundly from the busy day of coloring. It was a hard job. And she took it very seriously. 

He loved his family, and choosing to be with you and finding something to create his life around was something he’ll never regret or give up and he’s never shown you anything that could make you doubt. All his love is for you and his family, and he’ll never let go and neither will you.

𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖

pairing: gn!reader x nanami kento

“I’ve been thinking,” Nanami says suddenly.

His voice is quiet but it still manages to startle you a little. You look up from the cutting board to glance at him as you give a soft hum to indicate you’re listening.

“I could tell.” You focus back on the matter at hand, the only sound filling the kitchen being that of the knife hitting the wood.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him place the peeler on the counter and rest his hip on the edge, arms crossed over his chest and head slightly tilted to the side as he examines your face.

“You could?”

“Yeah. You keep doing the… frowning thing,” you mutter, gathering some of the carrot cubes and tossing them in a bowl before continuing with the rest.

“The ‘frowning thing’,” he repeats.

“Yeah,” you say again. “You know, I’ve heard your face might get stuck like that if you keep it up.” Nanami gives a soft laugh accompanied by a shake of his head, and he sighs as his hands move up to interlock behind his neck. “Also, that’s three sighs in a row. So, tell me, Kento. What’s keeping you up at night?”

“You,” he murmurs.

Your hands don’t cease their chopping even when your head snaps up to narrow your eyes at him, a reproachful look on your face.

“Okay, I did not hear any complaints last night when we were—”

“First of all, don’t take your eyes off the knife when you’re using it,” he says just as his hand shoots down to rest on top of yours to stop its movements. “It’s dangerous. And I didn’t mean that, I meant… us. This.” He gestures at the space between your two bodies.

You jut your bottom lip out in a pout Kento thinks is the cutest thing ever, and he has the sudden urge to kiss it away. He doesn’t.

“Is that a bad thing?” you ask, your voice dropping to a whisper right when you feel the anxious knot in your stomach starting to form.

“No,” he says reassuringly. When you still refrain from looking at him, he takes a step closer and takes your chin between his index and thumb to turn your face to him. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing. Quite the opposite.”

“Well, the way you’re saying it is making me think that maybe you want to—”

“Get married?” he interrupts you. Your lips part in surprise and you blink twice, three times while gathering your thoughts. “Because that’s what I was thinking.”

Get married? Kento wants to marry you? It’s a little shocking, to be honest. Despite having dated for years, Kento and you have never talked about the future, really. At least, not that kind of future. Does he mean it? What about everything else? His job?

“You want to get married,” you say, and it comes out as more of a statement than a question.

“Yes. If… that’s what you wan too,” he replies, and there’s a little hesitance on his face.

Nanami’s hand starts to withdraw, and your hand shoots up to clasp his wrist. He looks confused, embarrassed, and a little hurt, all in equal parts. Don’t you want the same? He was pretty sure you did. Did he read everything wrong?

“I want to. God, you have no idea of how much I want to,” you whisper with a nervous laugh. You’re totally not about to cry. Sure, this isn’t a proposal, but it’s really damn close to being one. “But what about… you know?”

“I’m quitting,” he says. Kento’s answer is simple and resolute. He understands he can’t really have both you and his current job, if anything for the sake of your peace of mind. There’s nothing more terrifying than kissing him goodbye without knowing if it’ll be the last time you see him. “I’m done with being a sorcerer. This time for good.”

Sure, being a sorcerer sucked a little less than his previous job, and at least he could help people. If Nanami has to give it up to be with you though; really be with you — he’ll do it in a heartbeat.

“Are you sure?”

He smiles and leans forward to place a tender kiss on your forehead, the warmth of his lips leaving your skin tingling even when they’re not on it anymore.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. My future is with you.”

You laugh softly, relief flooding your body. You won’t have to worry about his safety ever again. You sigh as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, his arms automatically wrapping around your waist to pull you as close as possible.

“I love you, Nanamin,” you whisper, your warm breath tickling the skin of his neck.

Kento gives a small huff, although a smile eventually makes its way onto his face. He takes a deep breath, instantly relaxing when your scent fills his senses, and his arms tighten around your body a little more.

“I love you, angel.” He pulls back to look at you, then leans down to place a kiss on your lips, then on your cheek, and then on your nose. “I’ll do it after Shibuya. I won’t leave you alone ever again.”

OPEN ARMS, OPEN EYES ┊ GOJO SATORU

tags: GN reader, no curse au, meet-cute, gojo has a visual impairment (modern take on his six eyes), the divine dogs are service animals (seeing-eye dogs), original child character, reader is babysitting, fluff + flirting, (takes place in my foster dad au)

wc: 3k

Overhead, the bell rings a soft welcome. You quickly shuffle Kota out of the drizzle and into the warm embrace of the cafe. A full staccato can be heard over the soothing music as the wind begins to whip the rainfall against the windows. You sigh, having escaped the worst of it.

Kota squirms, his pink face scrunched into a glare as you bend to undo the buttons tucked beneath his chin and let down his raincoat hood. Free from the nylon confines he shakes out his hair and swipes at the strands stuck to his damp forehead with a whine.

“I know little man,” you murmur placatingly, reaching for the napkins on the nearby condiment bar. You pat his skin dry from his cheeks to his neck, and then under his cuffs around his wrists. His sniffling has allayed, to your relief. “Is that better?”

When he doesn’t answer you look up and find him entranced by something across the threshold. You follow his line of sight and feel the breath stolen from your lungs.

The stranger is imposing and beautiful in a way that is hard to look at; yet it’s the intense air of confidence and ease about him that makes it impossible for you to look away. Standing tall at the counter he’s all slender angles and fluid movements in his fitted white dress-shirt, rocking on his heels as he waits.

The shelves fixed to the wall behind the counters are littered with decorative trinkets doused in warm-gold light that crowns his white hair like a halo. Everyone’s focus has gravitated toward him, so much so that they don’t appear to notice the large black dog at his feet.

Kota, however, paid the man no attention. Instead his chubby fingers curled around your shirtsleeve to tug insistently at your arm, “Puppy!”

There’s a blue padded harness strapped to the dog’s torso, ‘assistance’ printed in bold reflective letters across the chest and along the adjustable handle. Their body language shows that they’re comfortable but alert, ears standing tall and twitching in Kota’s direction. Kota, who has managed to free himself from your grip.

And is tottering towards the service dog.

You rise to stand and amble after him, frantically whispering his name. “Kota—no. You can’t pet the dog,” your arm scoops around his belly to keep him from tripping as you grab the back of his coat and gather him to your front. The boy stomps his foot and whines, forcing his body pliant in protest and becoming deadweight.

Nervous about causing a disturbance you survey the surroundings. Nobody stirs. A woman and her two young children are seated nearby, and she offers you a sympathetic smile. You grimace, steadying Kota on his feet.

“But I wan’a pet the puppy,” Kota warbles, making grabbing motions toward the dog.

“You can’t sweetheart. Look,” you run a soothing hand down his back. Bringing him close you point at the blue harness. “See what they’re wearing? Can you read that word?”

Kota’s brow knits in concentration. “S’big word,” he says. You smile at his seriousness and suppress the urge to squeeze him.

“That word says ‘assistance’,” and he repeats it with imprecise intonation, thrice before he’s satisfied. “That’s right,” you praise him, sneaking a kiss to his temple. A frisson of happiness has him burying into the crook of your neck. “Do you know what it means when an animal is wearing a coat like that?”

Kota shakes his head.

“It means,” you cast a quick glance to the owner and almost swallow your tongue. His face is angled in your direction, as if listening in on your conversation, though his eyes are well hidden behind a dark pair of glasses. “It means that dog is working. They have a very important job to do, so we can’t interrupt them. It would be bad if they got distracted, right?”

Kota thinks long and hard about this. A litany of emotions wash over his expression. It ranges from confusion, to petulance and sadness, then finally, acceptance. “Yeah. Okay,” he nods, staring longingly at the fluffy tail sweeping back and forth across the tiles.

“Good. Now you’ve learned something new today. You can tell your parents all about it once I get you home,” you stand straight and brush down the front of your jeans. “How about we get some cream puffs to celebrate once it’s dry out, hm?”

“Yeah!”

The disruption thankfully hadn’t bothered the dog. You watch as the man drops his hand to his hip and they immediately nuzzle into the touch. “Good girl,” you hear him croon as his fingers crook behind her ear. Then he cocks his head and a pair of lustrous eyes are visible over his opaque, round-rimmed glasses.

Hair prickles on the nape of your neck. His stare settles just beyond your shoulder. The pigment in each iris is oddly dispersed and startlingly light, a clear blue with infinite depth, as if they were plucked right from a celestial body. “Thanks for keeping him on a leash,” he tells you with teasing cadence, mouth curled into a smile. Kota gives an affronted grumble and you laugh, combing your fingers through baby-soft hair.

The man inclines toward Kota, “Her name is Maya, by the way. You can’t pet her but you can say hello”.

Enthralled at this development Kota bends his knees in an bouncy little dance. “Maya-chan. Hi. My name is Kota,” he gurgles, hands covering his cheeks. Maya simply snuffled, a long tongue licking at her snout, and shifted on her front paws.

The attractive stranger nudges his dark glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. He wets his lips. “And what’s your name?”

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for you to realise he is asking you. Rattled by the prolonged silence you set your sights firmly on Kota and clear your throat to introduce yourself, “It’s nice to meet you”.

“Yeah? I don't get to hear that too often,” he replies, mouth thin as if fighting a broader smile. It’s a lovely shade of balmy pink. “I’m—”

“Gojo-san?”

The barista glances up from reading the name on the ticket, visibly flustered that he interrupted. “I’m sorry. Your drinks are ready,” he makes an aborted motion to hand the tray over and then seizes. “Ah—would you like me to take this to your table, Gojo-san?”

“That’d be great,” nothing about Gojo’s visage, nor his posture, changes. You feel pinned under his broad scrutiny. Anticipation swoops through your stomach as he angles his gaze in Maya’s direction, where Kota remains besotted. “Y’know, my other dog is here too. She’s actually retired now, so you can come and pet her if you want, Kota-kun”.

You balk. This guy.

“Yeah!” Kota effuses, crashing into your legs. He pats at your thighs. “Please. Can I, can I?”

You cast a lingering glance at the poor weather, a sheet of rain obscuring the view to the street, and ponder what Kota’s parents would want. As he’s an only child they’ve expressed their desire to get a pet in the near future. It could be a good lesson for him, and you have nothing to do until the shower calms.

“That's—kind of you. If it’s no trouble…?”

“Wouldn’t offer if it was,” Gojo replies. You are at least reassured by the fact that he doesn’t sound all that put-out. More than anything he looks pleased, like the cat that got the cream. He gestures toward the poor barista, waiting to the side with fingers flexing around the tray handles.

You nudge the little boy, “What do you say?”

Kota takes a deep breath, the air pushing out his cheeks. He bows, hair falling over his eyes, and gives an emphatic: “Thank you!”

Gojo’s runs a hand through his hair. It looks silky. A smooth glide, no tangles caught on his knuckles. Then he rolls his shoulders, expression schooled into something comically serious. “In that case I’m going to need you to do something, Kota-kun,” he says.

The tone has Kota’s spine ramrod straight. “This guy here is going to my table. Think you can walk behind him and lead the way for Maya?”

Kota’s eyes are wide and sparkling. He vibrates at the promise of responsibility. You observe the exchange with an odd fondness. Gojo is a stranger. Yet he has somehow has managed to win over the most stubborn kid you know.

“Maya,” he kisses his teeth. Maya rises to attention, locking onto her owner while he readjusts his grip on the harness handle. She tracks the movement of his free hand through the air as it comes to lightly tap Kota’s shoulder. “Follow,” he states.

Spurred into action as though commanded himself, the barista leaves to find Gojo’s table. Kota looks to you seeking permission. You nod and he wanders closely after the man on his little legs, glancing back every few seconds, brighter each time he notices Maya trotting onward at his heel.

Gojo’s gait is languid and purposefully slow. There's buoyancy to him as he navigates the space, trusting Maya completely to get to their destination. You walk a suitable distance from his side, inwardly dithering and unsure whether or not to push aside the few chairs obstructing the path. Maya doesn’t appear concerned. You’d hate to break her focus.

She takes Gojo deeper into the cafe with confidence. Tucked away in an alcove at the back of the room is a booth. In the booth is another dark haired boy, much older than Kota, around twelve or thirteen if you had to guess, and curled under the table is another large dog.

The boy is not impressed in the slightest. He frowns at the sight of you and Kota, disgruntled. Thoughts visibly pass over his face and whatever conclusion he comes to he glares up at Gojo for it.

As the barista sets down the tray of drinks the cups rattle against their respective saucers. He bows and slips away. Kota is beginning to squirm again. You can tell his patience is waning.

“I’m being glared at, aren’t I?” comes Gojo’s amused murmur. Though the boy’s ire isn’t directed at you it feels awkward to be in the line of fire.

“You are,” you reply, pinching the back of Kota’s hood to prevent him from diving under the table. “Are you sure this is fine? If your son isn’t—”

Gojo waves his hand as he strides forward, carefully resting it on the backrest of the cushions and he uses it to pivot himself into the booth. “Not my son. More like a nephew, or something. Right, Megumi?” the boy—presumably Megumi—flares his turned up nose and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Or something,” he says.

“Maya,” Gojo continues in a clear voice. “Down,” Maya is deliberate in where she rests, remaining within his reach. “Stay,” her paws cross one over the other, and she rests her chin atop her wrists. When she’s settled, he coos another, “Good girl”.

Maya’s tail swishes happily. Megumi grunts. “Don’t be like that, Megumi. The kid only wanted to meet Ren,” Gojo drawls. At the mention of her name Ren crawls out from under the table seeking attention. “Why don’t you show Kota-kun how to pet her?”

“Why me?”

“You’re older. Set an example,” Gojo rests his cheek in his palm, taking his glasses off to hook them on the end of his slender finger. Those startling eyes drag aimlessly over your form as he sighs, “Tsumiki would be so disappointed if she knew”.

At that Megumi’s arms drop in deference. He scoots out of his seat and coaxes Ren to sit. She’s a lovely dog, and big, with a luscious thick white coat and soulful eyes. He sticks his hand out, expression a complex mix of boredom and determination. Like he didn’t want to do it, but if he really had to, he wanted to do it well. “Kota-kun, right? Give me your hand,” he says.

Kota bounces on his toes and obediently drops his hand into the older boy’s. “You have to let animals smell you first. Let them decide if they want to be touched,” Megumi guides it toward Ren, proffered and upturned for her to scent. She nuzzles into Kota’s small palm and licks it for good measure, making him squeal.

Gojo melts into the booth cushion, entirely mellowed out. You stare at his profile, appreciating the soft line of his cheekbone right to the shell of his ear, just peeking out under fluffy white hair; lightly cow licked at the ends from the rain, curling right around the stud in his earlobe.

Feeling the weight of your gaze his eyes slide over and you quickly turn away. In the seconds you spent distracted Megumi has shown Kota where Ren likes to be scratched the most. Kota beams as he strokes down her flank, making her tongue loll out and her hind leg reflexively twitch.

You clear your throat. “She’s very pretty isn't she?” you muse, bending to Kota’s height and smiling gently at Megumi. Ren’s warm puffs of breath fan over your fingers as you let her smell them. “Is she the same breed as Maya-chan?”

“Yeah. They’re cousins,” Megumi answers stiffly. There’s a tinge of pink in Megumi’s cheeks now as he buries his hand in Ren’s fur, vying for reason not to look directly at you. “We’re letting them spend time together before we send Ren away”.

“Eh?” Kota’s bottom lip wobbles. His head whips around to Gojo, “Away?”

“Not like that,” you quietly reassured.

Gojo crossed his ankles under the table and reclined with his royal milk tea, wisps of steam curling over the rim. “Ren is too old to do her job now,” he smiles behind the cup, “She’s going to live with a good friend of mine and his two sons. Don’t worry”.

This comforts Kota a bit. “What, um,” he pats Ren’s face, and your heart aches, because he’s being so uncharacteristically gentle. “Maya-chan really has a job?”

“She really does”.

“But babies can’t work,” Kota beseeches. “Mama told me so”.

Megumi huffs, though you think it’s more of a laugh. “Maya isn’t a baby and she isn’t a puppy anymore either,” he says. The proud gleam in his gaze doesn’t escape you as he points at the younger dog. “She’s the best of her litter. I helped pick her”.

“Megumi has a good eye for that kinda thing,” Gojo sets down his cup and gestures to his uncovered eyes, framed by pale and unfairly long eyelashes. You are secretly grateful for the excuse to look at them again. “My eyes? Not so much. That’s what I have Maya for—and Ren before her. She helps me get around”.

Kota’s jaw slacks and he makes a long, drawn out sound of understanding. Ren bounces from paw to paw and you marvel at just how good she is with him. Calm, and attentive. Reacting whenever he reacts. Remnants of her training that she’d likely never lose.

“Go—go…”

“Gojo-san,” you prompt gently as Kota’s brow knits in that very familiar ‘I-don’t-want-to-cry’ manner.

“Gojo-san,” he tries again. “M’sorry your eyes don’t work good”.

Mortification washes over you. “Kota, sweetheart. You can’t just say that—”

Gojo barks a laugh loud enough to draw the attention of onlookers. While he remains unaffected, growing evermore amused, you shy away from their curious stares with a grimace. “Don’t worry. He meant no harm,” he says. “And look, it’s not that I can’t see anything. Want to know something cool?”

Megumi sighs indolently and you suspect he’s heard this spiel before. Kota unfurls from his brief flinch and nods. Gojo tips his chin and bends forward. Kota stares right into his lucent eyes, mesmerised.

“I can see shapes. To me you’re just a weird smudge,” Kota giggles from behind his hands as Gojo pretends to wet his thumb and makes a rubbing motion, like he were wiping Kota from his vision. “But I have too much pressure inside of my eyes. So I don’t just see shapes,” Gojo leans closer and lowers his voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “I see colours around things, like when you squeeze your eyes shut real tight”.

“Woah,” Kota breathes. His fingers clench and unclench where they’re clutched around his coat. “What colour am I?”

The older man decides to entertain the question and pauses to consider Kota with a ruminative hum. You find yourself waiting with bated breath, a shamefully scant portion of your brain focused on the vibration from your jacket pocket. Numbness is spreading up your feet to your calves, knelt on them for too long, but you don’t want to disturb the atmosphere.

“Red,” Gojo answers decisively.

Kota covers his mouth. He swivels on his heels to find you. “That’s my favourite colour!”

“It is,” you echo as you rub his shoulder, your tone gentle and indulgent. Your phone buzzes again and you slip it out from your pocket to check the screen. “Ah,” a brief glance toward the cafe window informs you that the rain has mostly stopped. Gold slats of sunlight are flooding the wet pavement. “It’s your parents, little man. They’ll be expecting us home soon so say your goodbyes”.

“No”.

“Kota”.

A stubborn beat passes. Sulking, Kota is deliberate and slow while he gives Ren a final stroke. “Bye bye, Ren, Maya-chan. Bye bye Megumi-nii. Bye bye Gojo-san”.

“Sure,” Megumi chokes somewhat at the honorific. “See you, Kota-kun”.

Gojo listens to the interaction with a smile. Close lipped and genuine. Though small the weight of it causes his eyes to crinkle slightly at the corners. “It doesn’t have to be goodbye forever,” he suggests.

You hesitate, “Meaning…?”

“If we exchanged numbers then Kota-kun could keep in touch with Maya and Ren. I’ll send cute pictures”.

Megumi scoffs and it makes the blood prickle under your skin. Your face feels hot. “Right. For Kota,” you reply dryly, mouth trembling as you valiantly try to keep the smile out of your voice. He must sense it anyway, because his own widens and he holds his phone out to you.

Kota claps excitedly while you input your name and number. “And how do I know you’re not a bad guy?” you ask, saving the details before closing out the app and handing the phone back.

“I pinky promise?”

Shaking your head amusedly you fix Kota’s coat collar, refastening the buttons before petting Ren farewell. “I suppose I’ll take your word for it,” you tell him. “Thanks again, for letting Kota meet the dogs”.

“My pleasure,” Gojo returns.

“I’ll—we’ll be seeing you, then,” you wave at Megumi, directing Kota toward the front of the cafe. Gojo drapes his lithe body over the table surface and rests his chin to his hand, as if watching you go.

“I’ll text you,” he chimes after you. People lift their heads as you scurry through to the entrance.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Has this been done yet

Fluffy oneshot about Gojo seeing his newborn son or daughter for the very first time after his wife gets through delivery! 🥹

OH, you know this man would be a MESS

Now Presenting...

Starring Father! Satoru Gojo

Satoru didn’t have it in him to be a dad. At least, that’s what he convinced himself of. Despite the fact that he raised Megumi, Megumi wasn’t his biological child. He was convinced once his DNA was involved, no amount of your perfect genes could balance it out. What if his daughter inherited the nose he hated so much? Or the six eyes? Or all of his damn near crippling anxiety and self loathing?! No other human should live that way.

Besides that, what if he didn’t love her? His heart was so full of love for you and Megumi, he didn’t know if he had any more room in his heart for a third person. Of course everyone told him he was just scared and catastrophizing, that of course he wouldn’t feel that way once little Gojo was born. But none of them were parents, so how would they know? How could they be sure? They couldn’t! This was one of the few times where even you couldn’t really comfort him. Despite all of his excitement to start a family with you, the cloud of doubt constantly hung over him.

It hung heavy over him while you were in labor. He thought all of his fears were confirmed when he wasn’t excited for the birth of his child, he felt like he was having a panic attack! It killed him to see how much pain you were in, and crushed him that he had inadvertently done this to you. He genuinely had some regrets. There was no way he could be a good father when he felt like this during the birth of his child. 

And then, the doctors put her in his arms. The moment he looked into her eyes, all of his doubts, fears, insecurities, all of them melted away. She was perfect. “Well?” You asked softly from the hospital bed, staring lovingly at your husband and your daughter. “How do you feel?”

“She’s perfect.” Gojo muttered, gently petting her thin wisps of hair. 

“She has your nose.” You noted, gently booping her nose. Satoru nodded. She did. But it looked so perfect and cute on her, he hated it less on himself. 

“Thank you..” He muttered softly. He couldn’t find the words to express just how in love he was with her, and with you, and with his family and fuck, why was he so scared of this?

“You’re quite welcome,” You chuckled. “I’m happy to have her too, so it’s worth it..” You sighed.

“I love her so much…I love you so much, thank you..” 

“‘Toru…are you crying?” You asked, gently touching his arm. He nodded, laughing a little bit. 

“I just…It’s overwhelming..in a good way!” He assured you with a smile before looking down at the little human he helped make. He made this! Kinda. Really, he gave you the supplies and you made an entire human from scratch. God, you were incredible. And the baby in his arms was incredible. The perfect mix of the two of you, the perfect symbol of your love.

God, he couldn’t wait to see who she grew up to be. She made a small noise, demanding Gojos attention. He looked down and laughed adoringly. Her eyes were so big! She looked around, taking in the entire world for the first time. Then she looked at him. Her eyes held him with a vice grip. And in them he saw everything good in the world. Innocence, curiosity, joy, and the vice around his heart got tighter. All of his previous anxiety felt so, so silly now. 

“She’s perfect,” He muttered again. And he had never met anything more in his life.