#his hair is so fried😭 my dandelion

[vvstual]

aaa photo sketch

[suguwu]

Crocus & White Ribbon, please! Because I cannot get enough! 😭💐 Your writing is f l a w l e s s

ahh thank you so so much!!! 😭 i really appreciate it 💞 and thank you for taking part!!!

part of the flower shop event [event closed]

no real warnings on this—just a smidgen of angst that goes away quick bc this is a fluff request, unnamed daughter, established relationship. wc: ~800

crocus & white ribbon—dad!nanami and fluff

Dusk is settling in.

There are still little fingers of sunlight at the horizon, but the rest of the sky is velvet blue and darkening still. The festival glows in the arriving night, lanterns hung high like strands of stars, bobbing in the light breeze. The scent of fried oil lingers in the humid air; a grill spits and sizzles as the vendor lays skewers of meat across it.

"Let's go," Nanami says. "We'll want to find a spot."

"One more round," you say. "Right, bug? Daddy should let us play one more round?"

You glance to your daughter. She's perched on Nanami's broad shoulder, her little feet swinging. He holds her steady as she twists and wiggles, her eyes aglow, darting from colorful stall to colorful stall.

She nods, her little hair accessories jingling. "One more!"

"Cheater," Nanami murmurs to you.

You grin.

"One more round," he concedes.

She cheers, incandescent with simple delight.

"Careful, please," Nanami says, shifting his grip as she leans a bit too far forward. "What did we agree?"

She scrunches up her nose.

(It's deeply reminiscent of a particular white-haired menace. Considering the brief, stricken look on Nanami's face, he sees it too.)

"What did we agree?" he asks again, as you pay the stall vendor for your final set of rings.

"I hafta sit up so I don't fall."

"That's right."

"But you wouldn't let me fall, daddy," she says, with the firm surety of one who knows all the secrets of the universe. “So I won’t.”

You steal a peek at Nanami from beneath your eyelashes. His lips are drawn thin, a still-healing gash taut with the promise of a scar.

You throw the first ring. When you let your hand drop, you brush your fingertips over the back of Nanami's hand. Over the tight curl of his fist, the wiry strength of his tendons, and the dandelion seed scattering of little nicks and scars pressed into his skin.

He takes a breath. His dark eyes are full of something that hurts to look at.

You glance away; the second ring clinks as it catches on the little wooden stake and spins it way down.

“I will always do my best to make sure you don’t,” he says gently, quietly enough that it's almost lost in the festival's din, and you know a promise when you hear one.

"'Kay," your daughter says, already distracted. "Daddy! Kakigori!"

You nudge at him. "Go get some while I'm finishing up," you say. "It'll be nice to cool down."

"Bossy."

"It's why you like me," you say.

"If you say so."

"Kento!"

His lips quirk as you scowl at him.

"Daddy, kakigori," your daughter says.

"Ask politely."

"Can we get kakigori, please?" she asks, her voice pitching sweeter. You bite down on your laugh.

"Yes," Nanami says. "We can."

They head towards the stall as you finish up your last few rings. You rack up prizes easily, but only keep a few—a little hairpin for your daughter, a funny keychain for Inumaki, a stress ball for Ijichi—much to the vendor's relief.

You tuck the little trinkets into your wrist bag before wandering on, finding Nanami at the kakigori stall. He hands you one, the ice glistening in the light, tinted cotton-candy blue by the syrup. Your daughter's lips are electric green; there's a little smear of it up her cheek.

The crowds thin out halfway to the hill, so Nanami lets her down off his shoulder. He leans down to take her hand; you take her other hand, small and just a bit sticky. She swings your joined hands vigorously, and you indulge her as you climb the hill, you and Nanami tugging her up in unison to lift her off the ground as she swings.

"What do you think, bug?" you ask, surveying the patch of grass, just a bit away from the other families who have chosen this viewing spot too. "Will this do?"

"Yes!"

You clean her hands and cheeks as Nanami lays out the blanket. She squirms but allows it, her cheeks puffed out sullenly. You try not to laugh.

The first firework bursts through the sky just as you settle onto the blanket, the crack of it like the earth splitting open, resonating through your bones. It spirals gold across the sky, unfurling like ribbons, carving a path through the heavens. The light of it spills over you, illuminates your daughter's form, tucked carefully between you and Nanami. Her small face is turned up to the sky in awe.

Nanami's hand closes warm over yours.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to.

You hear him anyway.