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watermelonlovershigh · 3 years

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Single Dad Harry & His Daughter Rose (journey through life)

This was requested by this anon (instead of the daughter being just one of the ages you suggested, i decided to just incorporate all the ages, like a timeline of her life.)

AN: from now on, i think i'm going to use a random name generator for child names in my fics (like i did with this one). that way the name is random and with no thought. unless someone requests a name to be used.

This story contains: completely narration, no dialog, dad goals

{ dad!harry - singledad!harry - became a dad at 17 years old }

word count: 1320

Harry's journey of taking care and raising his daughter Rose as a single father.

Ever since Harry became a single dad, his life had been anything but easy. When his daughter Rose (named after his rose tattoo) was a baby, her mum completely left them, saying she didn't want to be a mother yet and it was a mistake to have not used protection. Especially when it was a one-night stand and that person was a celebrity. She had Rose (not finding it in her to go through with an abortion) and days later gave her baby to Harry, and that was the last time Rose ever saw her mother and Harry ever saw his baby's mama.

When Rose was a baby, Harry was the one that got up at all hours of the night to make her bottles, beings she had no way of breastfeeding. Most of the time on the One Direction tour bus because that's where he and his bandmates stayed while on the road touring. He'd also burp her and change her dirty diapers. Rub her little tummy when it ached. The rest of One Direction didn't always like being woken up to a crying baby, but at the end of the day, knew how special Rose was to Harry and supported him through everything.

His bandmates would often babysit Rose when Harry had to go into the recording booth and record his parts of their songs. Louis was the one who acted as a mother figure in her life (beings he grew up taking care of his younger sisters), like doing nightly feedings when Harry was sleep deprived. Or give Rose a bath in the little baby tub they bought for the bus when Harry was just busy in general. Niall being the silly guy, loved to make Rose laugh when she was being a bit moody. And Zayn and Liam were the protectors and kept Rose out from harms way.

When One Direction went on hiatus, Harry didn't have all the help he once had when living with four other people. At that point, Rose was three so it wasn't as hard to take care of her as it was when she was a baby, but still quite difficult for him being a single dad. She was potty trained and eating all regular foods. Though she'd sometimes still wanted a bottle of warm milk to help her fall asleep at night.

Harry would make Rose breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the two of them each day. He'd give her baths and washed her curly hair, sometimes making a soap Mohawk from the shampoo just to make her laugh. He'd read Rose bedtime stories and sing her lullabies. And though Harry tried to enforce Rose to sleep in her own bed like a big girl, he'd always cave in when she gave her daddy puppy dog eyes and a wobbly lip, as though she was about to cry. So often Rose ended up in her daddy's bed and Harry held her close, loving the feeling of knowing his daughter was safe and sound in his embrace.

Years went by and Harry sent Rose to kindergarten. Much to his disliking because he'd miss being with her through-out the day. He'd get up with her every morning and styled her hair to the best of his abilities. Sometimes not being able to accomplish what Rose requested and feeling terrible. Times like that was when he wished Rose had a mother or mother figure. Harry would pack Rose a lunch to take to school and help her with her homework when she got home at the end of each day.

Harry went to every school play Rose was in (she loved preforming just like her daddy) and every PTA meeting the school held. Though he juggled being a international popstar, Harry always put his daughter first no matter what. He helped her with any school projects she'd have and Harry even went and chatted to the principle when Rose complained that some kids were being mean to her. He was a super dad, doing it all.

When Rose turned ten, Harry decided she was old enough to go on tour with him. He hadn't properly toured since One Directions last tour (just doing local gigs here and there) and that had been years from that point in their lives. Harry wanted to wait a few years and give Rose somewhat of a normal childhood with stability, hence why she attended public school in her adolescents.

Harry hired an on-the-road teacher to have as Roses homeschooling teacher that'd stay on his tour bus as they traveled. His number one priority was making sure she got her education over anything else. Harry paid for extra security guards to protect Rose when she went out, beings some fans went a little crazy. Harry had his assistant watch her when he was busy in the studio or doing interviews. Life was hard at times and yes Harry wished Rose still had a mother, but wouldn't have traded his life experiences of being a single dad for nothing. It truly helped him mature faster and appreciate live to the fullest.

Two years later at age twelve, Rose became a women. Well she started her period and matured like a women. Because all she'd ever known was living with her dad and not really having many women figures in her life, telling Harry she started her period wasn't that bad. Rose was fortunately home when her period had started and walked into the living room where her dad was sipping a glass of wine and informed him she was menstruating.

In the twelve years of Roses life, Harry knew that that day was coming. The day she'd start her period. He was only regretting that day because his little girl wouldn't be so little anymore, but wasn't hoping that day wouldn't ever come because he knew how important it was for a women to have one. Harry grew up with a house full of women so periods were a natural and easy topic to discuss. He hugged Rose, congratulated her, and immediately drove her to the local pharmacy to purchase some pads and tampon (and chocolate + a heating pad).

Between the ages of twelve and Roses current age of sixteen, life went as well as it could have gone for Harry and her. Unlike most teenage girls, Harry raised a good and respectful young lady. Rose doesn't like to go out and party like some of her friends do. She'd much rather stay at home and spend time with her dad. She's a daddies girl after all. Rightfully so because to her, her dad was the only one who truly loved her and cared for her, unlike her dead-beat mother.

As for Harry, he's still single. He's had a few flings through-out the years and a couple one-night stands, but he hasn't meet anyone that felt like a keeper. Or someone who he felt would love his daughter the way she deserved to be loved and treated. Harry doesn't tour as much anymore because of his age (not due to fan loss because he still has millions of fans. fans that love to call Harry a dilf.) and Rose is back attending a public school in London. They often visit her dad's ex bandmates and Rose loves them all dearly. They helped raise her as a baby and feel like secondary father figures to her.

Sometimes Rose wishes she still had a mum. A women in her life that she could have womanly conversations with and chat about her love interest to. Even just to say she had a mum because when her friends chat about their mums, she feels left out and sad. But truth be told, she almost thinks her life was meant to turn out like it did. Her and her dad Harry make a great father/daughter duo and she wouldn't trade the connection they have for anything in this world. Even if it was for a mum that loved her.

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cryptiql · 3 years

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riptide

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, some mildly suggestive flashbacks + detailed descriptions of drowning. as always, please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 4.9k

a/n: welcome to the sequel of smoke signals. perish :)

dabi made a mistake. the knowledge sits in the bottom of his stomach like a lump of lead; his innards twisting into a knot whenever the memory of you crosses the expanse of his sleep deprived mind. the burns under his eyes might as well be bags, but they aren't large enough to bear the weight of his guilt. it isn't much better sitting on his shoulders, but the repercussions of pain are what keep him from letting it go, and that's exactly what he wants. no—it's what he deserves. he deserves the feeling like his head is going to burst; the ache in his spine from too many hours spent hunched over himself with a bottle clutched between his shaking hands; the burning intensity from overuse of his quirk. the extra inches of marred skin serve as reminders of what he did, but it's not half as satisfying when the pain doesn't last.

he wants to scratch at the wounds until they ooze that bitter garnet liquid; until he's suffocated by the metallic scent and forced to endure as the taste of blood engraves itself on his tongue when he chokes on it. he wants to suffer—the slower the better—because not even the strongest alcohol can cleanse his sins, nor the stench of his regret.

dabi made a mistake. it won't be the last time, he's able to admit, because his ego is too shriveled from the lack of your warmth, and his heart yearns for the passion of your kiss that still lingers on his lips. when the loft echoes with fragments of the city's ambience, drowning him in an incessant racket, he longs for the lighthouse. this place is infested with selfish ingrates, scuttling about in search of the next outcast to torment, and it makes him wish he still had that safe space at the shore. your siren song was a drug to put him at ease, and now he is without it, and the withdrawal has taken effect.

he knew this would come to pass. dabi overdosed on your love; your affection; your everything; all while watching the consequences unravel at a snail's pace, almost as if he were being teased by the inevitable end. he let it happen. he did this to himself, so he won't shake his hands at the sky, cursing gods he doesn't know exist; as if they would concern themselves with the faults of men like him.

he knew this would happen.

but then, so did you. you had to have known by the empty space in your bed where he used to lay; by the dates that kept getting postponed and the meaningless promises made to make up for them; by the shortage of visits, even just to say "hello" before he dropped from the face of the earth once more. if this were true, it meant that you were suffering just the same—nay, more than him, by forcing yourself into a state of compliance whenever he told you it was time for him to go. dabi could pretend like he didn't see your fingers twitching; resisting the urge to reach out for him; just as he could pretend like the rivulets of tears on your cheeks did not exist, though they begged to be swept away by him. god, he wants to hold your face again, noses brushing together and your dreamy sighs melding with his raspy laughter.

he had told himself that you wouldn't deter him from his goal, but even that seems like a pipe dream now. he feels like an underachiever, chasing a future that can't be set in stone when he already had you, which should have been enough. dabi realizes that the flames of his own passionate desire for freedom have burned you in the process, and it hurts more than he can put into words. you were always better with words, he reminisces, tracing the coffee stained parchment sitting in his pocket.

dabi has long since stopped reading the letters you sent, but he still carries them with him wherever he goes. they anchor him to both earth and sky; the reality that he's lost you, threatening to swallow him from under his feet; and the hope that he'll find you again, one day, after all this is over. "and just what do you think you're doing?"

you can see his reflection in the stove's glass sheen, his mouth drawn up into a devious smirk as he leans on the bedroom doorframe, clad in nothing but his briefs from the previous night. the purplish burns scaling his collarbone and abdomen give him a roguish look that—if you possessed no self-restraint—would normally have you lunging at him like a starved beast. you manage to smirk back at him, subtly shaking your hips while opening the stove door to pull out the doughy mound of bread inside. to your delight, you hear him grumble something not-so family-friendly before he snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. you had never once thought that the feeling of staples against your skin would feel so good, but now you can hardly imagine being without it, and you immediately melt into dabi's touch.

he breathes softly in your ear, chuckling when you flinch in response, goosebumps stippling your flesh. by the way your cheeks puff out in embarrassment, he should take that as a sign to stop, but fuck, your pouting is just too cute for him to resist, especially when your worship-able body is basking in the afterglow of dusk. you keen when dabi starts peppering your shoulder blades with kisses, but nearly dropping the pan causes your senses to return, and you whisper a plea. luckily, he appears to be in a merciful mood, because he relents his onslaught of affection to rest his chin in the crook of your neck.

when he finally notices what you're making, he can't help but squeeze you tighter.

"is that a cake?"

you turn to give him a peck on the nose, which is rewarded with a halfhearted snap of his teeth just millimeters from your mouth.

"that'd be right. though, i'm astonished you know which way is up after last night." your sing-song tone of voice spurs him to squeeze your thigh, and you would have shooed him away if not for how much you liked it. dabi murmurs something unintelligible, the vibrations shooting straight down your spine, and proceeds to remove himself from you in order to better observe the baked delicacy.

"mm. what's it for?" he asks, discretely swiping a bit of the pink colored icing from the bowl to his right. sweet, but not sickeningly so.

you are none the wiser when dipping a spatula into the contents and smoothing it over the cake, a soft smile playing at your lips.

"you never told me when your birthday is, so i'm taking a wild guess. figured i'd whip this up as a surprise, but you woke up earlier than i suspected." dabi swears that his heart is about to burst from behind his ribcage, and all because you're too goddamn perfect. you may as well be a priceless work of art in museum that he's been prohibited from touching. however, the fading marks on your skin signify that he's done more than just touch, and he takes pride in the fact you can't seem to move further than two steps in any direction without faltering.

"i know angel food cake is your favorite—" dabi silences you with a kiss; bruising and passionate; and takes the spatula from your hand, blindly setting it aside on the counter. your protests are short-winded as he lifts you from your behind before promptly turning the oven off and spinning on his heel. he's memorized these halls well enough to not bump into anything during his trek back to the bedroom. you pull away, albeit with a hint of reluctance, just to glare at him.

"what about the—" dabi kisses you again, and while you don't seem too happy about being interrupted twice in a row, the shared heat between your bodies distracts you from being upset.

"you're off by about two months, doll. besides, i think i'd much rather have you as a late birthday treat."

dabi clenches his jaw at the memory, his knuckles whitening with how tenaciously he grips the tattered fabric of his jeans. the league's new base is just as rundown and close to crumbling as he feels, but his despair is masked by the rage that overpowers it. why couldn't you have been a normal couple? why couldn't dabi have grown up with a father who loved him; with a quirk that didn't gradually destroy him and without the resulting scars that made him a hideous monster in the eyes of all who saw him? why couldn't he be as beautiful on the inside as you said he was on the outside? why couldn't he just be happy, after all this time?

why? why? why?

dabi finds his answer hidden in the ashen battleground strewn with rubble and remnants of burnt remains. he finds it in the fear of his victims' expressions before the snare of death claims them in a flourish of blue inferno. it's written there in bold, ichor dripping from his fingers as they smear the message with red.

the privilege of living a normal life is, and always will be, beyond his reach. murder does not warrant mercy, and the only person willing to give it to him is miles away, still desperate for him to come back.

as fate would have it, you and dabi lived worlds apart, but you still look at the same sunset; the same array of stars forming constellations that told stories of your life shared together. they replay in his head like a record stuck on repeat, and only when the song ends does he find himself back in the clutches of his childhood trauma, rather than your embrace.

"dabi? dabi!" his trademark scowl automatically takes place when a finger prods and pulls at his cheek, the familiar voice of twice shaking him from his deep contemplation. jin has been so unfortunate as to suffer minor scorches from the ravenette's flames, on account of him being too bothersome at the wrong moments, and so he instantly backs away at the first indication of danger brewing in the air around him. with how on edge he's felt lately, he really should have gone on a walk to relieve some stress, but the looming knowledge that he can't go to the lighthouse would only ruin the trip.

dabi is fully prepared to smack jin's hand away until he sees what he's holding. he'd recognize that handwriting anywhere, and even without it, the scent of saltwater and freshly baked bread clings to the paper, altering him of yet another one of your efforts to communicate with him. dabi feigns indifference towards the object; quite the contrary to his thinning patience as twice waves it above his head excitedly.

"you've got mail! who's is from? probably a useless nobody! or maybe a secret admirer? but who would admire you?"

to his dismay, the commotion has grabbed toga's attention, and she veers over to their location with a giddy grin on her face. she all but drapes herself over dabi as he snatches the letter from jin, and it doesn't help his struggle when she clings to him like a koala. after a bout of kicking and shoving, he manages to break free of her grasp, grimacing at her lengthy, high-pitched whines of disapproval.

"and can you believe hawks was the one to deliver it? i didn't take him for a carrier bird. . ."

dabi doesn't hear the rest, nor does he intent to, because he's already making his way to the nearest exit with haggard breaths. whoever calls out for him and whatever they say are the last of his concerns right now, and they're abruptly cut off when he slams the door behind him. the summer heat wills beads of sweat to paint his forehead, but he soon finds comfort under the shade of a tree, cicadas buzzing noisily overhead. he would sooner keel over and die than thank the birdbrain hero for catering to him—and by extension, you—but now that the note is there, begging to be read, he can't help but feel some sort of gratitude.

"i need you to do something for me."

the bristles of hawks' feather hover over dabi's pulse in a threatening manner, but he feels no more in peril than he would at the cruelty of a baby chick. he knows the number two hero won't harm him, at least not without regretting it later, and this is the perfect time to use that to his advantage. hawks narrows his eyes at him, nose wrinkling in accord.

"why would i do anything for you after that stunt you pulled?" he snarls, and dabi almost has to laugh at the drastic switch in personality. the way he presents himself to the public is a true contrast compared to the persona only he and the league have had the pleasure of seeing.

"because if you don't, everyone will know you've been fraternizing with the enemy, and we wouldn't want number two falling off his high pedestal, now would we?"

this time, dabi audibly laughs when hawks' guise wavers. the other grits his teeth, slowly withdrawing the feather and allowing it to fall limp at his side. he revels in his victory, short though it be, and reaches into his pocket to procure a letter marked with your name and address. putting your location at the disposal of a hero isn't something he's proud of doing, but it's all he has left, and he doesn't have the resolve to tell you directly.

coward, his conscious mocks as he holds it out for hawks to take. the winged man stares at it with befuddlement, his movements stalling here and there when he seizes the paper between his thumb and pointer finger. dabi tuts lightly but menacingly, yanking hawks towards him by the wrist and igniting his quirk to leave a faint mark there.

"you're gonna deliver this for me, no questions asked. don't you dare open it."

despite the clear uncertainty, hawks took heed of the ominous demand and carried it out later that night. he had not expected a young man with tear-stained cheeks to greet him at the door, much less the endless babble of 'thank you's as you took the letter with shaking hands.

dabi hadn't wished for you to send one back, but the ongoing stream of them was considered fair, after he'd left without much of a trace. still, he had promised himself that he would never read them, for fear of it opening the wound inflicted by having to say goodbye.

dabi can't understand the sudden change of mind for the life of him, and yet, he finds that he doesn't care whether it opposes every rule he set to keep you safe—to keep himself safe. he tears open the envelope and slumps against the tree trunk, bark and leather grating together as he hesitantly unfolds the parchment, briefly shutting his eyes as a last act of resistance to the helpless cry from within; longing for the familiarity of your poetic words. instead of the delicate precision that was to be anticipated, dabi stared down at your messy scrawl, a carnal fear rising from within and causing his throat to clamp up. the memories begin to flash at a faster rate, like an old-timey picture film. dabi has just finished putting the kettle on to boil when hears the floorboards creak, followed by the sound of your slippers shuffling across the floor. he snickers, remembering that the only pair you have is the one he bought you; a well worn match that looks oddly like cloud bunnies. you've made sure to exemplify how much you love the gift by wearing them around the house on rainy or lazy days, all paired with a wistful smile. this morning is no different as you worm your way under dabi's hold and press your face into his chest, a satisfied groan escaping you when he cards his fingers through your hair and scratches the scalp.

the robe you wear is half-hanging from your shoulders, which makes for an enticing view from where dabi stands, but he simply kisses the crown of your head and continues waiting for the pot to simmer.

"did you hear that noise?" you slur, just barely discernable over the kettle's shrieking. dabi quirks a brow in question as you rub the leftover grogginess from your eyes, tiredly nodding at the back window.

"little past midnight, i think. coulda sworn i heard somethin' rifling around in the trash." dabi squints at this new information while eyeing your appearance. the dark circles and intermittent yawning indicate a lack of sleep, and if he weren't there to keep you steady, you might collapse onto the floor as a snoring heap. if it really disturbed him, he should have woken me up, he thinks, pulling you closer with an ever-deepening frown. you snuggle up to him as if it's second nature, sleepily giggling away when his digits stray too close to your side.

"s'probably raccoons, but if you're worried, i can stay longer just to make sure." you look up at him with nothing short of pure, unbridled adoration, cupping his face and squishing it gently, to your own entertainment. after a moment of consideration, you shake your head.

"nah, you're probably right."

the feeling hits dabi like a tidal wave, dragging him below the raging surface; far below where the light of day cannot touch. it suffocates him and brings rise to the sickening taste of bile on his tongue, but he doesn't have time to spare in throwing it all up, so he swallows it. withered patches of grass crunch under his feet as he peels himself from the tree and breaks into a dash, sparing your letter the flames fueled by his anguish as to let it drift in the breeze, the single sentence written on it already engraved in his mind.

it wasn't raccoons.

dabi doesn't care what shigaraki will have to say about this when he gets back. the only thing he cares about is that you'll still be alive to say anything to him when he reaches you, and that whoever has invaded your home is willing to die for what they've done, or what they're currently doing, and fuck—he isn't even sure if this is you calling for help or not, but he can't risk being right.

the distance between the base and the lighthouse feels lightyears apart, yet simultaneously at arms length when dabi is running at speeds he hasn't ever been able to achieve before. if he stumbles at any point during his sprint, or if he happens to bump into an unsuspecting civilian on the street, he doesn't notice. the resonant thumping of his own heartbeat is all that he can hear as he thanks the gods for the flow of traffic being so spaced out, otherwise it would be near impossible for him to reach you in time.

in time for what? he has to ask. dabi doesn't even want to think about the repercussions, but the scenarios arrive in rivulets despite the mental trapeze he goes through to push them down, and they only continue to grow into oceans; darker, colder and harboring thoughts too gruesome for even someone of his caliber to handle. he won't realize until much later that he'd forgotten to put on his disguise, but the way people ogle at him with fear and disgust does not suppress the need to protect you.

even now, he can sense the pressure building behind his eyes, though it's more painful that it used to be. dabi hasn't cried in months, and it shows by how unabating the rivers of blood trickle from his skin grafts, despite his feverish attempts to stop them. look at yourself, holding together by a thread and weeping in public like a child whose lost his mother in the crowd. it wouldn't have come to this if he had stayed.

something shifts in the scenery; a distinct line drawn between the city and its neighboring countryside; but it makes no difference to the impending peril that looms ahead. the closer he gets, the sooner he'll find you waiting for him, dead or alive. dabi staggers, his breath hitching at the thought, as well as the harsh sting of pain that erupts when his knee collides with the gravel below. he pushes himself forward in little time, a strangled yell ripping his throat raw as his vision settles on the top of the lighthouse, peeking over the hillside. you have to be there—you just have to. he isn't done with you yet, and you're sure as hell not done with him.

the earth is damp beneath his feet, and it soaks through the canvas of his shoes whilst he darts past the boulevard and onto your property, crying out to you. surely, you must hear him. surely—

dabi practically hurls himself at the front door, his blood running cold when it opens for him effortlessly and swings ajar to reveal the living room, upturned and scattered with broken bits and pieces of furniture. there's no sign of you or whoever did this. the oakwood flooring groans under his weight as he barrels down the hall, peering into every room, beneath your bed and any other place where you could be hiding. nothing. his search ends in vain at the front doorstep, where he stands hunched over and dry heaving. no, no, no. you can't be gone.

"y/n!" he shouts. his only response is the crashing of waves against the shore and the incessant cawing of seagulls. for a moment, dabi forgets how to breathe, and then the ability returns to him; his legs aching horribly as he rushes to the beach. the arrangement of rocks is sporadic at first, but they gradually form large clumps the further he carries on, urging him to squeeze between the narrower openings. it comes with some difficulty, but at last he is able to hobble onto the sandy coast and rest his sights upon the vast sea. he can recall when seeing its murky blue sea would have put him at ease, but now it only causes his senses to be clouded with distress.

"y/n!" the once calm ripples rise into rolling billows that drench the shoreline in frothy heaps of algae, wreckage and blood. it curls and disbands within the ocean to pollute its cerulean hues with ones of scarlet red, and just like that, dabi's heart sinks like the titanic. he'll never forget the sight of you, face-down in the water; your favorite shirt slashed to shreds, clinging to your body as nothing more than a tattered mess. dabi wades into the water until it reaches his ankles, completely numb to its freezing temperature as he sinks down to hoist you up. he rests you on his thighs and presses his lips onto yours with urgency, shortly pulling back so that he can thrust his palms upon your chest and push. he doesn't care to remember how many times he repeats this, but when he finally sits back on his haunches to release a stifled curse, the feeling of dread has only just begun to take control.

you've never looked so pale.

a guttural sob wrenches itself past his grinding teeth as more tears arise, dappling your cheeks like raindrops. it wracks his body and sends forth a surge of agony to course through his veins. dabi cups your face with a shaking hand, the other secured around your waist while he kisses you, his erratic pleas falling upon deaf ears.

"come back. . .come back." his bawling ceases to end, no matter the abrasive pain blossoming in his gullet.

"c'mon, doll. where's that sweet voice of yours?" his thumb strokes your bottom lip as though beckoning you to speak. when nothing follows, he makes a pathetic sniveling sound mixed with something broken; a blubber or whine, he does not know. the burden of your lifeless form causes the reality to set in; a dagger piercing his insides and twisting as to drag the most blood-curdling screams from him.

dabi loved you, and he wishes he had the strength to say it when you were still there. it was only within the presence of his own demons that he was able to utter his affections; curled into himself and waiting for a reply that would never come, carried on the wind that bit his skin. he loved you because you held him like a child when his father hadn't even the heart to acknowledge him as his own. you spoke his name—his real name—as though the blood on his hands was not there; like you had washed it away yourself through acts of tenderness that he did not deserve.

and now you're gone.

you're gone, and—

dabi's entire body jolts with a start, a familiar heat dancing across the grafts of his marred skin. a faint blue glow radiates from his fists, which are tightly fastened the weighted blanket that lays crumpled atop his legs. he lets go with a shuttering gasp, observing the black smudges that reside where his flames once were, then blinking owlishly at his surroundings. the room is shrouded in darkness, all save for the bedside table to the left of him that is dimly lit by a flickering oil lamp. that, and the spaces illuminated by the moon's brilliance, showering the floor with multicolored spots as it glistens through the stained glass window. something slots into place, but all it does is send dabi's mind into overdrive.

where is he? where are you? are you really dead? everything hurts.

his nails drag down the length of his arms, seeking some sort of comfort in the pain that blooms there. it doesn't last long, however, when the bed suddenly dips, and a soothing warmth is placed on the small of his back.

"touya?" you croak, your words lingering with the remnants of sleep. dabi—no—touya, swears that he could cry again, right then and there. his eyes flit over your torso, where several scars in varying sizes have desecrated the skin. as he idly traces the pink lines, one final memory surfaces from the depths of his subconscious. him, desperately pounding your sternum; the last threads of denial snapping in tune; and you, coughing and spewing both curses and whatever seawater that had clogged up your lungs. touya held you in that same position for hours, listening as your ragged wheezing turned into hiccupping sobs. hauling you inside had been no easy feat, and having to hear your muffled groans while he stitched you up by the crackling hearth was no better, but the evening after had been pleasant.

you could not recollect the face of the intruder, and with such little information to go off of, touya was left to wallow in self-loathing for love he had almost lost. no amount of therapy could prevent the following nightmares and panic attacks, but in time, the rekindling of your relationship was proved successful, and dabi was prepared to repay you for the moments where you consoled him.

it wasn't just a dream. it had all happened, and yet here you were, alive and well.

a pensive look crosses your features when you note how quiet touya is, and you take it as a sign to break the tension with a tried-and-true method from the past. he doesn't resist as you coo softly, pulling him under the covers and wrapping yourself around him, a garbled tune fleeing from past your lips before you press them to his shoulder. you trail the faintest of butterfly kisses along his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and so on. the anxiety coiled in touya's chest starts to untangle, leaving him as a trembling bundle of nerves in your arms as you shush him, your nimble fingers carting through his hair.

if he weren't so tired, he would have laughed at how the tables have turned; with you cradling him in the way he's so used to doing. still, not even he can deny that it feels nice to be held like this.

"s'alright sweetheart. i'm here. . ." you whisper, and the effect is instantaneous. touya stills as he inhales the scent of buttercream and fresh pine that wafts into the bedroom, his eyelids fluttering shut. all he can hope for is that your presence will drive away any nightmares that foreshadow his well-needed rest, and that when he wakes up in the morning, you'll still be at his side.

dabi made a mistake, and thousands more will come to pass, because underneath the grit and grime that makes up his callous exterior, there is a human being; struggling to survive and struggling to please, just as much as the next. but he'll never leave you again. he had promised you as such with the band of gold now encircling your ring finger, and as long as he lives, he'll never break it.

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

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mythiccheroacademia · 4 years

Note

Hey!! Could we please get more sugar daddy fics with a black reader ofc 😋 idk if you've done shoto already but that'd be nice or hawks and deku💕

A/N: “wrist on glitter, waist on thinner, imma show you how to bag a eight-figure nigga” 👅💋 I enjoyed this way too much

All characters are 18+

Warnings: it got a lil spicy so imma put the line

Todoroki Shouto:

this mf has money to burn

we all know todoroki came out the womb w cash from his hair to his ass

he’s on some “yes, jeff bezos knows me” type shit so if you’re tryna end up with someone that’s gonna possibly buy you a house, he’s your guy

he slid into your dms after you posted a pic with your skin moisturized and glistening under golden hour and your body had him wanting to run laps

he had been plottin on you for a min but never got the motivation to do something about it until then

he’s a no strings attached type of sugar daddy

todoroki is a big name even outside of hero work and he’s well aware of all the people that have tried to use him. so instead of letting that happen, he’s decided to do things on his own terms

when yall first started talking, he questioned you like this was managerial position at apple 💀

best believe he ran an in-depth background check and made you sign an NDA 💀💀💀

he was a tough one

but you passed w flying colors and y’all settled on an arrangement

you have a weekly allowance that hits your bank account every saturday with some bonuses that he’ll give you depending on how the week goes

todoroki isnt needy nor is he one to be all up in your business

it’s actually weird in an endearing kind of way?

he only wants to have conversations with you

i mean, dont get me wrong, he’s up for anything you are

todoroki would be a liar if he said he never ended some nights with a picture of you and a hand down his pants

but that’s not what he’s mainly looking for

you figure out very quickly that shouto just wants someone to talk to

he’ll randomly hit up your phone and have a 30 min convo about something like the weather or hero politics, and then he’ll dip

next thing you know, you got $1000 in your cashapp

you kind of panicked bc like...wtf?

your dumb ass messaged him: “did you mean to send $1000?”

sis, dont put a question mark where God put a period

him: “Yes.”

and that was the end of that

you dont question anymore

he’s not doting in any kind of way, and sometimes you lowkey think he forgets about you, but you still get your allowance

doesn’t send a lot of gifts unless you explicitly state you want something

he doesnt text back a lot, but he tried to respond when he can

but i do see him liking it when you send him mundane things you do throughout your day, like pics of cookies you baked, or a cool plant you saw at home depot

and he enjoys the times you and him end up just trashing his father for nearly an hour. expect to find flowers, with some expensive ass coats or something at your door the next morning

he really fucks w your laid back vibe

sometimes he forgets you guys arent really supposed to be friends

Takami Kiego (Hawks):

this is not hawks’ first time being a sugar daddy

he’s hot, rich, and one of the most eligible bachelor’s in japan with a life that prevents him from having anything too serious

so, long story short, he’s a veteran at this

he used to be the type to reach out to instagram baddies but he had a couple bad run-ins and decided to stick with the official sites because it was a lot more secure on both ends

the funny thing was, you set up your account a long time ago as a joke. though at one point, you did take it seriously, but you came in contact with a lot of super creepy men that sexualized you for your skin and ethnicity.

you were tired of the “chocolate king/queen” and “amazonian god/dess” comments,so you took a break. you didnt have much activity since

so imagine youre surprise when the #2 hero hit your line talking about some

“Hey~ I’ll get straight to the point. I think you’re beautiful and I’d like to talk with you about an arrangement”

you thought this was a fake account, but after he chatting for a little and sending some pictures, you knew he was the real deal

hawks is your standard tit-for-tat transaction sugar daddy

he’s the type to hit you up at night with a “how ya doing, dove? got any pics for me?”

he’s good about his respect ad won’t do anything out of line

it’s the bare minimum, be he doesnt fetishize you so that’s always nice

however, he does make you call him daddy, sir, etc. whether it’s through text, call, or when y’all get together for...reasons

ngl his dicc game is fire

he might ghost you for a week or so but he’ll always come back with a nice check to make up for it

just be careful about catching feelings bc he’s so fucking smooth. he makes you feel like you’ve got his heart, but dont fall for that shit

if you think you can “change him” or fuflfil whatever wattpad romance fantasy lives in your head, he is not your guy. you better get on w your life before you get your heart broken

he’s here to suck, fuck, send pics, do a little phone call here n there, send some money, and go

if you’re not with all that, you might as well dip

but if you’re cool with that, rest assured, you’re gonna be living your best mf life with this man in your wallet

and good news, you might not be his only, but you are his favorite

there’s just something about you that’s got him giving you a few extra thousand than he normally does

he doesnt take his sugar babies on proper dates bc he’s gotta stay away from media outlets, but he will invite you to his office for a “lunch break”

if you ever surprise him with a cute but sexy hawks cosplay, you won’t have to work for two whole weeks bc you cant walk

overall, he’s a good sugar daddy. defintely good for your pockets and any other non-romantic desires you want fulfilled

Mirodirya Izuku:

the way you two met and came to this arrangement was more or less an accident

the life of the number one pro-hero was lonely and stressful

he’s tried to dip his toes in the water here and there, but it never worked out because not many people could deal with the fact that he’d always put hero work first

he was teetering on the edge of signing up for one of those sugar daddy/baby websites until he met you at some cafe he passed by

it’s cliche really. you were his server and, honestly? he was hooked on day one

he watched you intently as you pranced around in your cute uniform. he couldnt stop admiring your brown skin and eyes and how cute your hair was. you spoke with such enthusiasm and cheerfulness that he couldnt help but swoon. and it didn’t hurt that you were very easy on the eyes

he listened to you as you went on a spiel about how college was a fortune and how you stayed up last night for a project bc you had to pick up extra shifts

that’s when he made his decision

by the time the hero is out of the door, you collected the reciept and almost fainted when you realized he left you a $500 tip and his personal number

“i enjoyed talking to you today and i hope we can continue that...here’s something small to help with your bills. and i hope this isnt too forward but you’re very beautiful. stay safe. deku.”

and what did you do that night?

you called his ass right back

you were nervous as hell bc you still couldnt believe this was real, but after talking on the phone with him for two hours, an arrangement was set

midoriya is the most gentlemen like sugar daddy out there

you wake up to good morning texts and a few hundred in your bank account almost every two days

he goes crazy over your insta posts. and if you wear something green? expect a bonus

takes you out shopping unprovoked

izuku: “are you busy? i saw you were having a rough week and was wondering if you wanted to go to that new outlet mall downtown”

you: 🏃🏾‍♀️💨

you most certainly had homework due that night but what tf you look like missing out on that offer?

it’s after so many “dates” that deku realizes that he prefers hanging around you more than he should but he doesnt wanna ruin anything so he keeps that underwraps

he’s the idiot that goes into this thinking he won’t fall in love

deku defintely has some dirty thoughts about you but he doesnt try to bring it up unless you do first

if you’re comfortable with anything nsfw, you gone see a whole different side to izuku

he’s a giver, giver, giver, but when he recieves, he just about loses it

send him “innocent” pics of yourself matched with a string of filthy texts and he’ll combust

when you send him pics of yourself in deku-themed lingre, he deadass sends you a whole black card with your name on it as a thank you

you guys get very comfortable with each other very quickly

soon enough, DA’s start turning into y/n stayng over for a week

you both realize this relatiosnhip runs a lot deeper than an arrangement when he accidentally let it slip that he told his mom about you

he’s profusely apologizing but you shut him up with a kiss and tell him that you’ve kinda caught feelings yourself

your next conversation works out well for the both of you

#bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #deku x reader #izuku x black!reader #hawks x black!reader #hawks x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x black!reader #takami keigo #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #bnha x poc!reader #bnha x black reader #mha x poc!reader #mha x reader #mha x black reader #bnha x reader

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ma-gic-gay · 4 years

Note

The kiss had complicated things.

Asking for an anullment had complicated it even more.

This was just supposed to be a marriage of convenience, a marriage built upon keeping Wiley safe from everything that could hurt him. Especially Nelle. They got married to protect him, so Michael could have a better chance in court against her.

After they won sole custody, the psycho bitch had kidnapped him after slashing Brook Lynn's throat. Thankfully, Michael had found them and saved Wiley.

That damn kidnapping is the reason Willow's thinking like this. Well, maybe one good thing came out of that besides extra quality family moments: her kiss with Michael after he'd brought their son back home.

Their son. Willow was officially adopting Wiley. Diane had the paperwork ready to go, all they had to do was sign it tomorrow and then her and Michael would always be in each other's lives, whether they wanted to or not.

She really wanted to be in his life in a bigger way than just a co parent for Wiley. As much as she loved that little boy, and there was no way to put the love she has for him into words, she didn't want to be the parent who's house he goes to on the weekends or a visitor to him. Granted, Michael would never let that happen. He was too kind, too perfect when it came to that, amongst other things. Michael wanted to make sure that their family stays just that, a family. Dysfunctional to an extent, yes, but a family.

It's almost like everyone is yelling for them to get together. Even his grandmother and brother who had met Willow ten seconds before saying how obviously happy she made his little brother.

Maybe she's just overthinking this. After all, Michael might still be in love with Sasha. It's completely possible; they were together for a long time.

But...

What if she's not? What if this isn't all in her head, and she's not freaking out and internally losing it over nothing? What if this is real, a genuine connection, and they're just throwing it away?

Dante said something about this when they'd met, in between quick witted remarks about the dysfunction she had married into. He'd actually said a lot of important things, she thinks.

"I'd ask my little brother if you make him happy, but you obviously do. I can see it written all over his face," Dante had said as soon as they were introduced.

Michael had brought up getting an annulment as opposed to a divorce, which she explained had been in part because they didn't have any irreconcilable differences. "Well, I just got here, so what do I know, but you two seem pretty happy together. And compatible- genuinely, that's a rare thing! But you guys know what's best for you guys."

She couldn't believe it. Each day, their family moments, it felt more and more like normal. Her broken heart had mended, she knew it. When she had to speak to Chase the other day, she didn't feel like she was in love with him anymore. She could look him dead in the eyes and still not feel that spark.

It was a confusing situation in general, with Michael having asked for an annulment after saying how great she was and kept looking at her with that look, the half smile and loving eyes.

How she loved that look. It was becoming a favorite thing of hers, seeing him look at her like that. She didn't know what it was, but if anyone was going to, she figured it would be Dante.

Or she could ask Michael himself. After all, they always promised to tell the truth to each other no matter what happened. Honesty and trust were the foundation of their marriage. Despite the fact it would be ending a lot sooner than she would've liked, they were still married. Rules still applied.

And that's how she ended up waiting anxiously in the foyer for her husband to come home. "Hello, Willow. What are you doing?" Dante asks when he walks in the door. "I mean no offense by that, of course, it's just you look like you've got something on your mind. Or, rather, someone. You also look like Lulu back when we were just married and she was so excited to see me at home, so I'm going to guess you're looking for Michael and have something important to tell my little brother."

"I can't get anything past you," she chuckles softly. Dante genuinely cared about the people around him and who made his family happy, that she could see easily.

"So why are you waiting for my brother?"

Willow takes a deep breath, sitting on one of the stairs so she stops pacing. "Well, you look like there's something on your mind. Wanna talk about it?"

Dante let's out a quiet laugh. "You don't want to go first, fine, I will. I just saw Lulu at the Floating Rib. She was there for Maxie's engagement party, I guess. Something I was not invited to, since she didn't know I was back in town. Anyways, we were chatting and then Dustin walked in. He was talking about a PTA meeting. I knew they were serious, but I had no clue that they were serious enough he's on the PTA."

"Dustin's not on the PTA, he's a teacher. He had to make a presentation. I know because I'm a teacher too. I get kids who have been transfers from his school." Willow informs him, watching as relief goes over her brother-in-law's face.

"That's good, but still. He then offered to start getting to know me, practically insinuating that I'm just some dude he has to deal with in Lulu's life. It feels like a bad love triangle, the first of many you'll experience as Wiley's mother. I don't know, I don't like the guy," Dante sighs.

"I don't know if this will make you feel any better, but to be honest, his reviews are meh at best. The kids like him, for sure, but I don't know. Haven't made up my decision about him yet," she smiles.

Smiling back, Dante says, "Well, you've got to tell me now. What are you so desperate to tell Michael you're pacing like a newlywed who needs sex?"

She bursts out laughing. "You're blunt, Dante. Lulu isn't going to pick Dustin, you know that."

"It's Lulu Spencer. I'd like to think I know her, but I don't know. She's... Changed since I last saw her. In a good way, but still, change is change. Peter offered me a job where we might be working together, so there's that. Anyways, enough of me. You're not getting out of talking about Michael anymore."

Willow playfully glares at Dante. "Fine. I'm going to tell him that I don't want an annulment."

A huge smile breaks out onto Dante's face. "Thank God, I was half convinced you weren't going to tell him or he wasn't going to tell you."

"Wait, Michael doesn't want one either?" Willow asks, confused. He had been sending mixed signals for a while now, but so had she. Her feelings were... Complex, that'd be the ideal phrase to describe them. She didn't know if she loved him yet, nor did she want to rush into that or anything, but there was an attraction she couldn't shake to him.

"Wow, Willow. You're both the most oblivious people on the planet. You're perfect for each other," Dante laughs. "Of course he doesn't want an annulment! Have you seen the way he looks at you lately? That's not how you look at your friend, or convenient wife. That's how you look at someone you love! I've only seen the two of you together a couple of times, but my big bro instincts are telling me that he's doing his thing where he doesn't go for what he wants."

Willow laughs along with him. "That's so frustrating, right? He won't allow himself to have anything good without overthinking it."

As they're laughing, Michael walks in. "What's so funny?" He asks Willow and Dante, confused.

"It's not even really funny, it's just that- Michael, I'm going to let you two speak for a minute. I've got to get to... Somewhere that's not here," Dante excuses himself.

That was weird, Michael thinks as Willow stands. "Is it just me or is he asking weird?"

Willow smiles, "He's not, but we do have to talk."

Taking a deep breath, Michael nods his agreement. "Okay, you wanna go to the living room so we can sit for this conversation, because I've got something to tell you too."

"Me first," Willow says as she sits on the couch next to him. "Michael, I don't want an annulment."

Michael breathes a sigh of relief, "Can I ask why?"

"If you still want to get one, of course we'll get one. But I don't want to. I want to stay married to you and not just because of the house and not cooking or cleaning, which are huge pros. I want to stay married to you because you're kind and loving. You always treat me with respect I didn't know I deserved until we got married. Chase was- he was great, but you don't put work before me, or your family. Family is the most important thing to you, not work or money or any of that stuff. You love Wiley as much as I do, and you're the only person who understands what it's like to be dealing with this stuff as a parent, and as a person. He's not just something that comes with me for you, he's someone important and who you love. I don't feel like I'm a second choice, or that I'm too needy, or that I've got to reschedule my plans so you can do something. And with Chase, it didn't always feel like that. You found out about something I loved and instantly found a broker to get the best wine selections because you wanted me to be able to have that back. Look, what I'm trying to say is I like you, Michael."

There's a quiet in the room as Michael takes in everything Willow just said to him. "As in romantically?" He asks, still processing what he just heard from her.

"Yes, romantically. And I get it if you don't feel the same, it's just that I feel like you might because you're acting like you're into me sometimes and you did say that I was everything you could've hoped for so I guess I just wanted to say this. I Also, Dante was surprisingly helpful in getting me to be able to say this to you," Willow smiles anxiously at the man sat next to her on the couch.

His brain is going a million miles an hour, trying to properly process everything. Willow can't deal with the silence, however, and starts rambling: "If you're trying to think of an easy way to let me down, Michael, just do it flat out. No harm, no foul. It doesn't change what I feel, but it will make me feel less embarrassed about putting you in such an uncomfortable situation."

"You done?" Michael half smirks, and she nods before he kisses her, soft yet perfect. Willow can feel herself falling in love with this kiss, which is arguably better than the other two they've had, as fantastic as they've been.

When they pull away, Michael gives her the look again. It's more intense, but she's realized he's always got it when he's talking to her. "Willow, I like you a lot. I've liked you since we first met, and honestly, I don't know if I ever entirely stopped. The only reason I suggested the annulment is because I knew it would take some time, and because I wanted to know if you wanted to stay married. In my mind, I've always hoped it'd turn out with us together, no matter how real what we both had with Chase and Sasha was. It took me until you accepted my proposal- which, by the way, was absolutely terrible and I'm sorry for that- to realize that I really like you. So I'll call Diane and tell her to call off the annulment."

She smiles. "What does this mean for us, Michael? I can't live in this state of limbo forever."

"I don't know right now. Let's give it a time limit for the state of limbo: Wiley's 2nd birthday. It's a few months away, which is plenty of time to figure it out and still not feel like we're rushing through anything."

"Sounds... Perfect."

You should post this!!!

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spinelesbians · 5 years

Text

(I apologize for taking so long to get to this ask, as it was my second surprise for this blog. To make up for it, I wrote double the amount from my first drabble!)

Date Night: A Tune for You

Word Count: 1,000+

Tonight was a date night, one that was long overdue for the both of you. Spinel was constantly in and out of the apartment you both shared, having to visit the Diamonds while also keeping up appearances with the other Crystal Gems. You, on the other hand, had long shifts day in and day out at your average full time job. It wasn't often the two of you would be off or completely errand-free thanks to both of the many tasks you had. However, when the days would align and your lives blessed you both with a day off together - it was always a date night. No call ins, no worrying about others, no taking up extra hours at work. These days were reserved for both you and Spinel to do whichever or whatever you pleased. For tonight, the two of you had agreed to a night out on the boardwalk to enjoy the sights. The leaves were turning and the winds were chillier now, showing signs of fall. Both you and Spinel felt it would be the perfect evening out - together.

While you were getting dressed in the opposite room and trying to figure out which outfit would work best for a walk, Spinel was in the bathroom tying up her hair. She found it somewhat therapeutic to comb through the magenta shoulder length hair, taking the extra time to smooth out the ends before working it up into ponytails. Her gloved hands neatly pushed down any cowlicks or fly away pieces, pulling the hair ties taught enough that her signature ponytails fluffed out once more.

It was also relaxing to just spend some time on herself, for once. That was something she was still working on, but she made great progress regardless. Not only had Steven helped her in realizing that change came from within, but.. you had come along to help her love again. Six thousand years was more than enough to scar the gem, and Spinel certainly never forgot it. However, you just helped heal all those marks, fill those voids with a newfound trust. A trust beyond simple friendship - it was a bond of love. Even when you both had your quarrels, any couple would, you weren't swayed by the harsh tones nor angered outbursts. It seemed to push you to stay and work through the differences together, which was something Spinel never expected from anyone she had been close to prior. There were some days in which Spinel was a complete disaster - the trauma digging deep into her gem and almost poofing her forms many times from the absolute heartbreak. Yet again you stood your ground, taking Spinel into your arms and rocking her gently till her breathing evened out. Even if it took minutes, hours, sometimes an entire night - you never once left her side. And for that, internally, she was grateful to have you by her side. If anything this date night is one way to return all those nights and moments of tension.

Just across the hall, you were getting ready for the date night yourself. While you had tousled your hair into the style you preferred and washed up your face, there was still an outfit to choose. Standing in front of the opened closet, you stared at the array of colors and style options. Should you go for a bold look, sporting a leather jacket and plenty of metal accessories? You also had plenty of ribbed sweaters that paired perfectly with many of your leggings and scarves. Or maybe something sleeker, like a long dress or a tailored suit? 'No, that'd be too weird for just a walk.' You hummed as you thought, idly sifting through the hung clothes. 'Maybe I should just… go with what I'm comfortable with. Yeah, I'm sure Spins wouldn't mind.' With your mind made up, you began to change into whichever outfit you felt the most comfortable, the most you in.

While you pulled on your outfit and tied up your matching pair of shoes, however, something broke the peaceful air. You didn't realize it since you had been so wrapped up in your thoughts, but now it was more than obvious. It was singing, similar to the tunes you'd hear at a jazz bar or a swing club. The beat was infectious, and the voice was more than heavenly with their range. Every word was sung with such raw energy, striking every chord deep within your very soul. Had Spinel turned on some music from your phone to listen to? You glanced around the room, noting that the sound wasn't from where you were at - rather coming from the bathroom where Spinel was getting ready. You hoped she wouldn't mind if you made your way over to the doorframe, peering in.

What greeted your eyes and your ears, however, wasn't just music.

Instead, you were greeted with Spinel's own voice singing those heavenly tunes. She wasn't facing the doorway, and seemed to focus on smoothing her hair into place while she sang. Never in your entire time together did she ever tempt to sing around you, nor have you even thought about what she would sound like. Yet here you were, getting ready for your night out and listening to the voice of an absolute gem. It wasn't long before you could barely contain your excitement, and you snuck up behind Spinel to wrap your arms around her waist. She was much taller than you for sure - and jolted when your arms made contact. "Huh?! (Y-Y/n)! Weren'tcha gettin' ready?!" Her singing stopped at an awkward spot, voice cracking a bit from the sheer surprise. Looks like she wasn't expecting you to hear. "Spinny!! Nellie-Spins!" You cooed as you snuggled closer, " You didn't tell me you could sing so well!" Your praising made the pink gem turn a few shades darker, and she turned so you both were facing one another - her hands in yours. "Well, errr, I n-neva' thought t'was a big deal--" Spinel explained bashfully, eyes darting to the side. That, however, made you gasp in fake shock before replying with, "What, it totally is a big deal! Why don't we go to the karaoke bar?? We can sing together! Oh oh, can you sing something for me too? A song you like! I'll try to sing along!" Your excitement was enough to burst the gem's heart then and there, completely enraptured by how enthralled you were with her voice.

Looks like plans were going to change the moment you both stepped out the door.

Sure enough, the two of you had a well deserved date night at a karaoke bar. You sang whenever you knew the lyrics or could keep up with her voice. Most of the time, though, you sat in quiet awe at her sheer talent, in which you clapped and showered praises like no tomorrow. Spinel on the other hand was singing every song she knew from the bottom of her heart. For you.

#asks #text #text post #drabble #my writing

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