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lowkeyremi · 1 year

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Haikyuu men as fathers pt 3.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Ft. Sakusa, Iwaizumi, Kageyama, and Osamu.

The age range of the kids will differ for each character but it’s from babies up til like 17 or 18 (also sometimes I model the parenting off of the way my parents were w me n my little sibs lol)

CW: Indication of pregnancy, relationships, marriage, certain styles of parenting,

Enjoy lovelies <33

………………..

Sakusa Kiyoomi:

The panic on his face is pure gold. “Babe… Babe she’s drooling on me!” You whip out your phone so fast. “Smile for the camera, Kiyo!”

He’s pouting, but you don’t really care. Not after you told him to grab her bib because she might drool. He insisted that ‘my little girl won’t drool on me.’ And now here he is panicking about it.

It’s not that he minded her saliva… it’s that he’s in uniform because he wanted to hold Kokomi before heading to work.

Your nine month old daughter is clapping her hands at her dad. You’re sure she finds this whole ordeal hilarious just like you do.

“Stop recording me and get the bib. It’s gonna get on my uniform.” He says with his eyebrows furrowed. “What happened to ‘oh she won’t drool on me’ I thought you didn’t need the bib.” You mock your boyfriend of three years.

He frowns and sets Kokomi onto the floor. “Go crawl to mommy, yeah?” She immediately starts crying and you knew this would happen. Your baby is most definitely a daddy’s girl.

“Kiyoomi, pick her back up. She wants her daddy.” He glares at your statement because you’re still mocking him. “This is not funny.” He states. Just as you were about to make a comeback Kokomi took the both of you by surprise.

She was crying and crawling over to Kiyoomi, “Da- DAA!” Both your eyes widen at the realization that’s she’s saying ‘da da.’ You open up your phone and press record. “Kiyo! Make her say it again.”

“I can’t just magically make her say it.” He says sarcastically and you roll your eyes. “That’s not what I mean! Start walking away I’m sure she’ll say it again.” Kiyoomi walks very slowly so she has time to catch up by crawling and sure enough she says it again, “DA DA.”

You stop the recording and clap your hands. “Good job, princess! That is da da!” Kiyoomi picks her up and wipes her tears with his hand.

“Don’t cry little one, da da’s right here.” He assures her and she claps again.

And for the next couple of weeks all Kiyoomi heard was “da da.”

Sure you were bummed she didn’t say “mama” first, but guess what? You aren’t the one who has to go help her when Kiyoomi’s around because all your little princess wants is her “da da”

He’s so sensitive abt her, for example he cries on her first birthday because “she’s growing so fast”

He teases you for being jealous of your daughter, but you can’t help it! She’s getting all his attention :( (he tends to you later <3)

He seems like the type of dad to sign his kid up for a bunch of sports/activities so he can try to find something for her to become good at

He has tea parties with her, she loves when you play the charming prince and kiyoomi plays the pretty princess 😂

OMG whenever she has nightmares he’ll follow her back to her room and sleep in her bed w her (you keep telling him he’s gonna break it lmfao)

Doesn’t let her date for a LONGGGGG time

He spoils her absolutely rotten

He cried tears of joy when he saw his little girl walking down the aisle being the cutest little flower girl at your guys’ wedding

SUCH A SOFT DAD, she’ll ask for something and you’ll give him that look so he’s like “N-no.” And she gives him those eyes and he’s like “baby, how I can say no to those eyes?!”

Iwaizumi Hajime:

“HIGHER DADDY, HIGHER!” Your seven year old daughter screams as Iwaizumi launches her into the air and catches her.

“Sato has to have his turn, pumpkin.” He sets his little girl down and comes over to you with grabby hands for his son.

“He’s one Haji, that might scare him.” You reason. He takes him anyway and you shake your head.

He throws Sato up into the air, it’s not too high. He catches the chubby little baby and you wait for the crying. It never comes though, because you hear your little boy giggle.

”What’d I tell you, sweetheart?” His face is smug because he was right.

“Daddy lift me up too! Mommy says you’re very strong!” She too has grabby hands. “Oh really?” He says smirking. The brunette lifts up his daughter so he’s holding both children in his arms.

You’re staring, hard. You and Iwaizumi have created a beautiful little family that’s bound to grow bigger at your surprise.

“Take a picture, Mommy. It’ll last longer.” His tone is laced with smugness. “Yeah yeah.” You roll your eyes. Even though his statement was meant as a joke you pull out your phone and take a picture anyway.

As he’s about to set them down you stop him, “wait we gotta get one more with me in it!” You say walking over to them to take a selfie.

“We don’t want our other little one to feel left out, now do we?” It takes him a second to realize what you said. It was too funny not to document his response so you snap pics of his surprised face.

“You’re pregnant?!” He says in shock. “Yeah, thanks to somebody.” Your daughter is next to speak.

“It’s because of the baby fairy, right?!” She asks excitedly.

Iwaizumi laughs, “yeah, the baby fairy is bringing you another little sibling.” Iwaizumi explains with a big smile on his face. You want to flip him off but not in front of the kids.

He’ll take his little girl to the gym (and his son when he gets older) and use her to do his work outs (She’ll be on his back while he’s doing push ups, “five more, Daddy!”)

teaches his children the importance of health

i can see him empowering his daughter and telling her if someone hits her then she has permission to hit back

sometimes he misses his children’s events but he’ll make up for it with something fun

He seems like the type to want a lot of kids (enough to have his own little volleyball team lmao)

He’s always telling them to not be like their uncle oikawa

ALWAYS taking pics of the little cuties

Idk what it is abt him but Sato it his only boy, something abt him just makes me think he’d have almost all girls 😂

Invested in a suv so he can drive the kiddos to school

such a fucking dad boss, he goes to all the parent teacher conferences, etc etc.

I’m 1 mil percent sure he makes his kids wearing matching pjs and they love it at first but they hate it when they get older lmao

he’s the strict but nice dad (pretty chill until one of the kids fuck up or if he isn’t a fan of something)

Not only does he get on his kids for eating junk food he nags you about it too

has all his kids stuffies names’ memorized “daddy! Popcorn has a boo boo!”

he’s big on family outdoor trips (you suggested glamping and he told you that’s such an oikawa idea and your fam is gonna do camping the right way)

Hesitant on letting his kids use technology, he didn’t want them to become fully dependent on tech (they aren’t 🫶🏾)

Kageyama Tobio:

“That’s my boy. When you’re setting you don’t want to slap the ball up with your palm, it’s more like slightly tapping it with your fingertips, uhhh does that make since?” Kageyama tries to explain to his twelve year old.

“I think I get it?” Kaito says in a questioning tone. Kageyama scratches his head. “I wonder when your mom will get home with the girls.” Kageyama thinks aloud.

Kaito shrugs and returns to practice setting the ball. He’s done it a few times and Kageyama praises everyone of his sets, even if some of them are really crappy.

“Dad, you don’t need to praise the bad ones. It doesn’t make me feel better. If you praise my trashy work then I’ll settle for being trashy.” Kaito explains to his father. Kageyama puts his hands on his hips, his face turns into a smirk.

“If you want real practice don’t get upset when I criticize every little thing. You know I’m nit picky when it comes to volleyball.” With that he removes his hands from his hips. His steps were even and he asks his son for the ball.

“Mom says you’re bitchy about volleyball. She says it’s gotten better though.” Kaito says, meaning little harm. He knew that would get Kageyama riled up.

“Huh? You’re joking, right?!” Kageyama’s squeezing the volleyball and Kaito is suppressing a laugh.

“Well she says that’s what uncle shoyo says and she agrees with him.” Kageyama mumbles something about you and Hinata. Kaito is sure it’s something along the lines of, ‘I’ll show them a true bitch.’

Kaito gets some good practice in, mainly because his dad is somewhat upset.

You’re finally home with your twin daughters who are two. You find your husband and eldest in the backyard together playing volleyball.

“Kaito, you’ll be as good as your dad one day!” You praise seeing the results of Kageyama’s practice with him.

“What’s this talk about me being bitchy when playing volleyball?” Kageyama confronts and your eyes immediately land on your son.

“Kaito! You cannot keep a secret for the life of you, huh?” You say with a chuckle.

“I get it from you, Mom.” He says seriously.

“Babe, it’s nothin serious. Just a small observation of Shoyo. It’s not supposed to be in a mean way.” You try to coax him. He isn’t having it though.

He starts fussing so you tell Kaito to get his sisters and take them to go play with toys.

As soon as they’re out of sight you walk up to your husband and give him a warm, loving kiss.

“Tobio, you are not taking this to heart right now,” a small chuckle leaves your lips. “As your wife I make comments about you all the time cuz you know as well as I do that I mean it in a loving way. I’m still not over you calling me a swelling balloon when I was pregnant!” You rant, the ending part of your rant earns a snort from your husband.

“You’re my swelling balloon.” For some reason that almost sounded sexy but you aren’t going to let it slide. You give him a playful punch.

“Can you guys quit being saps?” Kaito yells from the door.

“It’s your night to help potty train.” You say with a wink and Kageyama groans.

If he sees his child showing any interest in volleyball he’ll do his best to make his kid a next gen star

he despises that you make the family match for holidays and you send the photos out to family

He lets his kids run around butt naked when they’re little (until you scold him)

he wouldn’t see the problem in letting the twins have ice cream for breakfast

he learned how to do hair so he can braid his little girls’ hair 🥺

he and his son argue abt the dumbest things (got that Kageyama and hinata energy)

Also the competitive dad who wants his kids to be better than everyone else’s kids

he will literally bully any little kid to the point where they cry if they mess w his kids

I don’t think he’d freak out when his daughters start their period he’s just like “okay. I think ur mom has pads somewhere 🧍🏻”

Miya Osamu:

“Pa! Come quick!” 6 and a half year old Haruki yells from the bathroom. When Osamu hears him he comes running up the stairs and into the bathroom.

“The heck ya doing in here? Yer ma’s gonna tear ya a new one!” Osamu examines the mess his son has made with finger paint. “I was trying something, Pa. Then my tooth came out cuz I was wigglin’ it!”

It isn’t until his son says that sentence that he notices there’s a small empty space in his mouth where his little tooth should be. “Huh? This yer first tooth?” Osamu asks.

“Pa, I been talking about this darn tooth for weeks!” His son responds with sass.

“well ‘cuse me for forgettin’ little man.” Osamu says with a roll of his eyes. This boy has got your attitude big time.

“You stay right here, ima go get ya some warm salt water. Don’t ya move.” Osamu warns as he goes to fetch some water for his son.

“So I can’t even breathe?” He asks sarcastically.

“Quit bein’ a lil smart aleck.” Osamu demands with a little bit more strictness in his tone. He’s usually pretty laid back with his son but sometimes Haruki hears the way his Uncle ‘Tsumu talks to his dad and he thinks he can talk that way.

Osamu runs down the stairs to the kitchen and scrambles around for a cup. He finds the salt and sprinkles some in. He puts the cup in the microwave for about a minute and it feels like the longest minute of his life.

“Hurry, Pa! The blood’s gettin’ everywhere!” Haruki yells out of worry.

Osamu retrieves the cup from the microwave and stampedes up the stairs to the bathroom.

“Here, swish it. All of it.” He commands.

“Pa I don’t wanna swish all this salt water it won’t taste good.” He explains to his pa.

“Do ya want the blood to go away or nah?” Osamu asks and Haruki shakes his head yes.

Your mini me began to swish the water as Osamu cleaned up the bathroom.

“Yer lucky I saved ya. Shoulda told yer ma ‘bout the mess you made.” Osamu snorts.

“Do ya think my baby sister will look like you or ma?” Haruki asks instead of thanking his father for cleaning his mess.

“I reckon she’ll get my beautiful eyes that drew yer ma to me n my thick brows.” Osamu says proudly puffing his chest.

“‘s not the only thing ma calls thick.” Haruki mutters which makes Osamu look down to him.

“Whaddya mean?” He asks his eyebrows scrunching up.

“She always talks to Uncle Rin ‘bout how thick ur butt is but she says it with two c’s at the end instead of T-H-I-C-K. What does the one with two c’s mean, Pa?” Haruki asks out of pure curiosity.

Osamu’s face goes red and he covers his face.

“It don’t mean nothin’ at all son. Don’t listen to what yer ma says that’s just her talking crazy.” Your husband explains.

“So when she tells me to go to bed-” Osamu cuts him off.

“I outta pop you for how smart yer acting.” Osamu says firmly.

“Sorry Pa, I’ll stop.” Haruki has a cheeky little smile on his face. He knows Osamu isn’t going to do anything. You handle all the discipline.

Osamu’s phone buzzes loudly in his pocket and he takes it out to answer it.

Osamu’s face goes still and then his eyes about pop out his head. “Slow down honey one word atta time.” Haruki hears you yell over the phone.

“We’re on our way right now.” Osamu says in quickly.

“Let’s go pack yer bag Haruki, yer staying with Uncle ‘Tsumu.” Haruki doesn’t move a muscle but then his dad gives him the look that says ‘do not test me right now’

“Is Ma okay?” Haruki asks his dad slightly worried.

“As okay as you can be goin’ into labor.” Osamu responds. For Haruki’ age he’s an advanced child but he’s picked up on the twins vulgar language and their accent. He knew what it meant when Osamu said you went into labor.

“My sister’s comin’?!” He asks excitedly.

“Mhm, now go pack yer bag. Ya need three shirts, three pairs of pants, some underwear and matching socks. Yer uncle will take ya to school. If I don’t come get you within the next three days just ask yer uncle to wash yer clothes. We’ll most likely see ya tomorrow but yer gonna stay with yer uncle to yer ma’s outta the hospital.”

Osamu explains all at once. “Okay Pa!”

let’s his kiddos get away with a lot more than they should

teaching them to cook was like his favorite thing to do

he lets you handle the punishments because Osamu is a soft dad

Whenever atsumu is over and you aren’t around he’s swearing like a sailor to his brother and his kids pick up on it 😭

100% a cuddler (Haruki acts like he hates it but he doesn’t)

idc what y’all say but he takes his daughter shopping like prom coming up? He’s there when she’s trying on dresses

no phones at the table enforcer (believes in quality family time)

he was relieved to not have twins like his brother did 😂

always teasing Haruki (for example he hates seeing u guys kiss so Osamu purposely kisses u in front of him just to upset him lmao)

the poor man tries his best w homework but geometry doesn’t make any sense “why are there shapes in math ya only really need to know how to add, subtract, multiply, n divide”

something just tells me he has a bird feeder and he enjoys drinking his coffee in the morning (little ones have hot chocolate) and watch the birds come and eat

#kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu dads #dad!haikyuu #haikyuu characters as dads #haikyuu!!#haikyuu

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chronic-claire-universe · 7 months

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Husband that recognizes that you're pregnant with your second child even before you, because suddenly you're craving that special food you ate only the first time you were pregnant.

Husband that has to calm you down because you're spiralling and seat next to you as he tries to convince you to do the pregnancy test and see if you're having a family addition.

Husband that supports you and look at the pregnancy stick in your place and hugs you as soon as he sees two lines on it.

Husband that reassures, hug you and say he's going to protect you and the baby in your womb just like he did the first time.

Husband that owns scary dog privilege title even more now, because no one will be allowed to say or comment or make you uncomfortable in any way.

Husband that from now on takes care of the house and your first child's homework because you can't lay a finger from now on for 9 months.

Haruchiyo Sanzu, Kakucho Hitto, SATORU GOJO, Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Shuji Hanma, Hajime Kokonoi, SHION MADARAME, Hajime Iwaizumi, Tetsuro Kuroo, KEIGO TAKAMI

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strawberrykake · 2 years

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surprising him w ur son wearing the same outfit as him

father’s day special ❣️ insp by this

warnings: timeskip!haikyuu, kuroo is slightly suggestive (baby fever), daughter ver.

Ushijima, Bokuto, Daichi, Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Kita

Ushijima 👟

Your husband who’s already tying his shoelaces, getting prepped up for his early morning run doesn’t hear you enter the living room with your very hyper 3 year old son wearing a new outfit

Specifically, a matching pair of the black adidas tracksuit that your husband wore every morning

“Hon? Going for a run?” You ask in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He stands up straight and turns around to give you a peck when he feels a tug on his pants.

“Dada,” your child coos, eyes wide looking up at his father.

You smirk, waiting for his reaction

But it’s delayed bc he’s the most oblivious man you know

“Hey, sport.” He bends down and swoops up the kid effortlessly, tickling his neck with kisses. “Now, wait a minute.” Your husband pauses and lifts your kid higher, studying his look. “What in the world,” he chuckles. The small boy giggles, wiggling in his father’s hold.

Ushijima looks over at you, an eyebrow raised. “Darling?

“Hehe,” you cover your mouth to muffle your giggles. “You like?” He looks back at his son’s matching pants and jacket and shoes.

“I love.” He holds his giggling son close in his right arm, opening the door with his left. “We’ll be right back, mommy.”

“What?” You ask, a little caught off guard. Ushijma usually goes on runs by himself while you and your son wait at home.

“Im canceling runs today. We’re going on a walk.” The sudden decision makes you send him a questioning look.

“He didn’t eat breakfast yet,” you point out.

“Then let’s stop by Mcdonald’s.” Ushijima’s smile is stuck on his face as he’s adjusting the zipper of his son’s jacket. Ushijima isn’t a fan of fast food but his son loves it and he loves to spoil him very much. Although, McDonald’s for breakfast is a rare thing.

You hesitate before nodding in agreement. You tie up your hair and grab your purse before walking to the door where your husband and son stood.

“Yay! Meek Danno!” Your kid raises his fists. Where did he learn that? Ushijima reaches out to you, pulling you in for a kiss on your cheek.

“Thank you,” he says. “You know, you should get an outfit yourself,” he says smirking. Before you could comment, the boy starts to whine.

“I want kithhhh.” You and Ushijima look to each other, chuckling. Then each of you kiss the sides of his face simultaneously, making him giggle.

Bokuto 📸

Bokuto who’s going through a little emo phase bc of his work, lays down on his couch an arm over his head

You decide to cheer him up by surprising him with your son dressed in the same outfit as him: a grey hoodie, brown shorts and a brown beaded bracelet

“Go tell, daddy,” you whisper in your son’s ear, tickling him.

He giggles silently and tiptoes his way to his moping father on the furniture.

his little fingers tap on Bokuto’s sleeved arm covering his face.

“Rockstar, is that you?” He calls his son by the little nickname he created for him. His little rockstar. Which the child LOVES.

You laugh to yourself. Never gets old. Bokuto moves his arm away, his eyes peeking out playfully at his son. When it comes to his son, his emo phase is immediately turned off. He always makes sure his baby is happy.

Suddenly, it’s as if something struck him as sits up, noticing his son’s outfit. “Woah! Look at you!” And then Bokuto’s beaming as if all his troubles have gone away. Bokuto holds up his son and spins him around in the air. “Well, aren’t you the coolest looking dude?” You laugh, catching his attention. “Babe, do you see this? We’re twins!” His emo phase is practically long gone, hair no longer drooping and eyes wide with surprise.

“Haha, you are,” you say, laughing. “Here, honey, I’ll take a picture of you guys.” You lift a camera and your husband is quick on his feet, placing his son on the ground for one photo. Then, picking him up and making several poses..

“Peace-sign! Peace-sign!” And the little kid slowly tries to mimic his father’s gestures. “There we go, my boy!”

After their photo op, the two are playing in their cute matching outfits and you cant help but snap more photos for memory of this day. The next thing you know, they’re fast asleep on the couch with matching open mouths as they snore. Somehow, the strings of their hoodies ended up tied together, making you raise a brow and lips curve. Bokuto has his arm around the little one who is curled up, snuggling into his father’s shirt.

You snap another picture, laughing silently to yourself. That’s a new lockscreen for sure.

Daichi 🔨

Daichi was in the kitchen to fix the sink’s leaky faucet when his son comes barging in

You follow the kid behind him, hands behind your back

“Daddy, look!” The boy exclaims holding a toy hammer in his hand, handing it to his father.

Your son was supposed to show his outfit, not the hammer in his hand

he probably misunderstood when you told him to go “show daddy” as he held his toy in his hand.

“Whatcha got there, buddy?” Daichi chuckles, taking the rubber hammer. “S’it for me?”

He studies the object. Then his eyebrows furrow.

You cup a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh. You knew that look.

He looks back up to his son, making a double take, and noticing the matching black polo shirt and khakis.

That’s when he drops the hammer “Oh my god,” he chuckles again, but this time in disbelief. He picks up the boy, walking over to you.

“Honey?” He motions to his son in his arms and to his outfit, posing. “How do we look?” Your husband smiles widely.

“You two look dashing,” you say.

“This is the best day ever.” He places a kiss on his son’s cheek before tickling him silly and swinging him. The kid starts giggling uncontrollably and you can’t help but chuckle from the contagious laughter. Daichi places the squirming child back on the ground, before walking over to you.

“Thank you,” he says with a soft gaze, cupping your cheeks with both of his hands and placing a huge kiss on your lips. “Mmmmwah.”

“Mmph!” the feeling of his strong palms squeezing your cheeks overwhelm you. But a soft giggle escapes you and Daichi knows that you love when he does this. Your son stands on the side, running his toy car across the furniture. His head spins to his parents hearing your giggle. And Daichi is giving all his attention back to the boy.

“Wow, neat car you got there!” He smiles, watching his kid with adoration.

Looks like the sink’s repair will have to wait.

Kuroo 👔

Kuroo had just gotten from work, his tie loosened and coat immediately thrown off

now left in his white collared long sleeve and dress pants.

“Hey, honey,” he greets you with a lingering kiss.

“Welcome back,” you say, pressing your lips against his.

He leans over you to deepen the kiss, his hands resting on your lower back

And you giggle pushing him back.

He chuckles. “Where’s the little one?”

“Close your eyes,” you say, smiling.

“Huh?” he asks, confused.

“Babe, close your eyes, trust me.”

And he closes them, a corner of his lips turning. “What is this, huh?”

“No peeking!” you warn. And right on time, your son rushes toward his father from behind you.

Kuroo feels something hugging his leg.

“S’that you, rascal?” The kid makes babbling noises as Kuroo ruffles his hair, eyes still closed.

You bend down and grab the child. “C’mere, baby.” You lift him into your arms. “Okay! Open, babe.”

Kuroo opens his eyes and gasps. “This isn’t real.” His open mouth turns into a smile and the kid mirrors his father’s expression. You had set up an outfit for your son similar to Kuroo’s work clothes, and even styling his hair to match the crow-like shape of his father’s.

Your son opens his arms as an invitation for Kuroo to take him from your hold, and Kuroo chuckles, grabbing the toddler.

“He looks so handsome! You look so handsome, bud!” Kuroo tickles the belly of the child, making him laugh.

“He looks like you,” you say staring at your child fondly. Their resemblance is uncanny. From the jet black hair, the eyes, and the same smug expression. Anybody could tell that Kuroo’s genes were strong on this one.

“Exactly,” Kuroo smirks. Of course his handsome little boy looks just like his handsome father. It only makes him think about sharing more kids with you. “I want more children. Let’s make more of these, yeah?” Kuroo says bluntly. And you had to whack him in the shoulder.

“Testurou!” You say flustered.

“What? I’m just sayin,” he defends, the child lightly bouncing on his hip and busy playing with his father’s messy hair.

“We can talk about this later,” you say, smiling at your cute son. Kuroo leans down to give you a peck on your cheek as a thank you for this little event you made for him.

Iwaizumi ☕️

Iwaizumi was sitting on the couch

his computer on his lap as he remains his focus on his work, typing at a fast pace

he had just got off a zoom call with his co-worker

lately, he’s been stressed and working hard the whole day, spending his time on the screen

while consuming an unhealthy amount of caffeine to keep himself awake (you had to take it away from him)

wanting to cheer him up, you and your dear son come up with a small surprise

you enter the room holding your neatly dressed son’s hand as you approach him

“Oh hey,” your husband looks up, rubbing his eyelids

Iwaizumi’s tired eyes squint, looking at his adorable son who is. . .dressed up as him?

His eyes widen when he realizes that what he’s seeing isn’t a hallucination. The boy had changed out of his previous clothes and is wearing the same exact clothes his father’s wearing: white tank and grey sweats.

“Did you get dressed up like me? Hmm?” Iwaizumi tosses his laptop aside, bringing his full attention to his son who cheerfully walks toward his dad. “Come here, you,” he says with a huff, picking up his son. A smile adorns the father’s face as he watches the energetic kid squeeze his father’s cheeks.

“This is crazy,” you say to yourself, shaking your head. Combined with their outfits, the two males are mirrors of each other. Your son got your husband’s spiky hair and eyes. However, you could see your smile in his. And that was Iwaizumi’s favorite part.

“Come here, momma,” your husband calls out to you and pats the space next to him. You perk up at his voice, following his words. As you sat down, you watched Iwaizumi continue to entertain his kid, giving him light tickles with his lips. “Oh, you little handsome thing.” Iwaizumi pauses when he notices you staring lovingly at them. And his smile brightens. “I love this. Our baby’s too cute.”

“I know right?” You say, grabbing your kid’s chubby cheek and giving it a light squeeze.

“Why don’t we do this often?” Iwaizumi asks and the kid moves out of his father’s lap, walking onto the cushion of the couch. It makes Iwaizumi tear his eyes away from you, to help balance his energetic child walk across the couch. “Careful, boy.”

“We should.” You stand up and quickly pick him up. “You both are so cute like this!” Looking between your husband and your child, you boop their noses. Iwaizumi is shocked by your action. Unable to help himself, plus, the image of you holding his child, he gives you a huge kiss then placing another on his child’s forehead.

“I love you two.” He sighs contently and realizes he could really use a break from work for a minute.

Kita 🍚

Coming back from delivering rice packs, Kita is exhausted

you greet him at the door as he enters with a comforting smile

“Shinsuke,” you say, hugging your husband.

“Hey, darlin’” he places a kiss on your lips and wraps his arms around your waist.

“Where’s our little ball of happiness?” he whispers in case the child he spoke of was asleep

“I’m glad you asked.” You smirk, before turning and calling your son. “C’mon baby, show papa what you got!”

And there goes your little ball of happiness skipping into the room with a replica of Kita’s clothes. The man lets you go and slowly approaches the child.

“Woah,” he breathes in amazement. It’s like looking at a reflection of his youth. “Where did you—How did you—?” Kita is astonished, his head turning to look between you and his son. He finally squats and lets the kid jump into his arms, squealing.

“Ordered the outfit online and it arrived today, so…here we are. Surprise, love,” you say, bringing your phone out for a photo as Kita tickles the boy’s neck with kisses.

“Oh my god…” Your husband stands with your son in his arms, walking over to you. He sighs. “I love you,” and gives you a kiss, before facing his child. “And I love you!” He lifts the kid into the air, spinning. The joy on their faces mirroring each other.

Before you know it, Kita is outside admiring the orangey sky with his son. The baby points at something in the sky, probably a bird or maybe a weirdly shaped cloud. Kita gazes along with him. It’s moments like these that make you forget all that is wrong with the world.

#SRRY I CAN SEE WAKATOSHI CALLING HIS SON SPORT #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu hcs #fathers day haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu dads #okay but ive been having this in my drafts but decided to wait for fathers day to post #ushijima x reader #daichi x reader #kita x reader #iwaizumi x reader #bokuto x reader #kuroo x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader

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emmyrosee · 1 year

Text

head empty, only dad thoughts again.

very original, I know

he just would look so good with a tiny baby resting against his broad chest for tummy time, his thick fingers gently running up and down her delicate spine while his eyes nonchalantly watches whatever channel flicked onto TV. She’s knocked out, she’s fast asleep, and when you ask him if he wants to put her into the crib so he can go about his day, he gives you an incredulous look, like how dare you even suggest he move and risk waking his little angel.

when he’s extra cozy, he buries his nose against her soft head and takes long, gentle inhales of her unique, newborn musk; it calms him down to know she’s warm, she’s safe, she’s his, and the smell of her is all apart of that.

(his friends ask him all the time how his “baby-huffing-addiction” is going, but he shrugs them off with a chuckle and a ‘you just don’t understand it.’)

to be honest, you really don’t know if you understand it either. but you don’t care to question it, because just judging by how happy he looks to be in contact with his infant is plenty to smother any judgment that may brew.

—-

atsumu, ushijima, kenma, iwaizumi, sugawara

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omitea · 1 year

Note

some dad haikyuu maybe 😗🥲

𝐇𝐐! 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

. ft. haikyuu! male characters

. content. none, reader referred to as ''mama'', timeskip!, probably bad writing, the second one is long…also not proofread

. note. hii i hope this is what u wanted <33 this probably sucks (i let it sit in my drafts for too long and this is my first time writing dad! au)

☆— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐑

soft snoring was heard as you entered your home, the outro of ‘’the princess and the frog’’ playing in the background. taking off your shoes, you noticed the toys scattered on the floor. sighing, you began picking them up— leading towards the living room. your steps soon came to a halt as you took in the adorable view in front of you. the irritation once building inside of you, disappeared in an instant. there he was, laying on the couch with her on his broad chest. a large hand placed on her back which looked like it could swallow her whole. a small smile formed on your face. the snort you let out caused him to open his eyes. ''hello, love,'' he yawned. you walked towards him and placed a kiss on his forehead. ''hi,'' you chuckled, ''i'll change then join you,'' was all you said as you walked towards the bedroom, a giant smile plastered on your face.

the way your little one’s fist clung to her father’s shirt, was enough to make you feel all warm inside.

| USHIJIMA, sakusa, daichi, IWAIZUMI, kita, aran, akaashi, matsukawa |

☆— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 “𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀”

he was slightly panicking at the crying child in front of him-- whining about some mini cookies he saw while passing the aisle. smiling awkwardly at the strangers giving him stares, he mentally cursed himself for tagging him along. ''i got some vegetables, yeah? those are good too, bud," to which the child only deadpanned at his father. ''I WANT COOKIES!'' he could only sigh and turned the cart around and grabbed the cookies on the highest shelf. "listen, -" he sighed for the nth time, ''don't tell your mama, okay? daddy doesn't wanna get yelled at.'' your child only nodded, smiling widely with one missing front-tooth. when the two of them came home with the groceries in hand, you placed it on the counter and started putting them away.

little do you know that your husband placed the half-eaten bag of cookies on the bottom of the plastic bag. taking it out, you glared at him— “who’s cookies are these, mhm?,” he swore he could feel his heart drop to the bottom of his ass. “i-uhm, ITS MINE!” he smiled, reaching out to grab the bag from your hands. you sighed as he walked away, leaving you and your son standing in the kitchen. “daddy is lying, mama. those are mine,” your son pouted, to which you could only let out a chuckle, “oh, i know those are yours,”

how would you know? well the crumbles on your sons’ cheek didn’t go unnoticed.

| OSAMU, bokuto, atsumu, kuroo, SUNA, sugawara, OIKAWA, hanamaki |

©𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐀. please refrain from stealing my works !

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honeystwiggypeach · 2 years

Note

There has been a lack of dad!iwa contents on my dash so i'd like to fix this with a cute request of iwa doing pushups and his baby try to copy him 😊

Bestie???? I’m gonna sob this is adorable I love Iwa! I never write for him though but like dad!iwa? Even better!!!! I imagine Iwa as a very big girl dad!!! So just imagine his maybe three year old trying to copy😭😭

Tw- one mention of Iwaizumi’s daughter looking constipated because she was making a face and grunting😭😭other than that nothing really? Fem reader? Let me know if I missed something!!

Iwaizumi had been doing home workouts for a long time, probably before the two of you even got together so of course when you had kids that didn’t stop him.

Right about now you were certain he should be doing push-ups, after so long you’d had his workouts to a point where you knew that around twenty minutes in was when he’d start with push-ups. Of course, your oldest daughter after having watched her dad knew this as well.

So when she toddled into the living room she giggled at the sight of Iwa on your hardwood floor. He smiled softly as she got down to eye level with him and he pauses for a moment thinking she’s gonna place a slobbery kiss on his nose like she always does but he watches as she tries to imitate him making little grunting noises every now and again.

He lets out a deep chuckle calling for you to come and see.

When you walk in you see your daughter beside your husband as she lets out little grunts while she lays on her belly pretending to do a push up.

You pull your phone out before setting your eight month old down on her tummy as well, might as well get in tummy time for her and snap a cute photo.

You smile as your daughters both give you smiles almost identical to their dad’s their chubby cheeks pushing upwards with their adorable grins and you can’t help but pepper kisses on both their faces watching as your husband practically falls on the floor laughing when he sees the photos, sure his face is cherry red, and his daughter kinda looks constipated from the face she’s making with her grunting but it’s definitely one of his favorite photos with his girls.

Omg besties pls request more I’m incredibly bored and requests are like my favorite thing ever!!!

#anons #requests #reader insert #x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu parents #haikyuu dads #mom!reader #dad!iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #dad!Iwaizumi x mom!reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime

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seijorhi · 16 days

Text

Oleander

Oikawa Tooru x female reader x Iwaizumi Hajime w.c 8.6k tw: yandere, mentions of child abuse and neglect, references to underage kissing, murder, horror themes, pseudo-cest (foster siblings), blanket dub/non-con vibes for a good portion of this

The patisserie smells of sugar, vanilla and freshly baked croissants. In a word; delicious.

For several minutes now, your brother’s been standing bent at the waist, studying the display case stacked full of cakes and desserts with an intense kind of focus. Considering. Deliberating. Inadvertently placing himself, and by extension you, as an obstacle for other people trying to do the same.

“Alright, the crepe cake or the fancy looking chocolate one, the…” Heisuke squints at the display case, trying to decipher the label, “gateaux? Or should we go for the red one with the strawberry mousse thing?”

Bingo. You hold back a smile.

“Go the strawberry one.” Nobody loves strawberries like your mom loves strawberries.

“Ok, great. We’ll grab that, a bottle of nice wine, hit the florist and I think that should do it.” He nods to himself, satisfied. “She’ll be over the moon.”

He’s not wrong. The woman you’ve called a mother for the past ten years would fall over herself for something as simple as a birthday card, regardless of the fact that your dad insists on going all out every year.

“She’s already over the moon; you’re home for the week.” The admission’s soft, hesitant – poking a little too close to an open wound for you to feel entirely comfortable voicing it. Hei gives you an odd look, but it mellows into something more genuine when he realises you’re not taking a stab at him.

Baby steps.

Finally, Heisuke steps up to the counter to order. Within minutes the cake’s boxed up, with little ice-packs slipped in to keep it cool, and paid for, and the two of you head out, you holding the door open for Hei to carefully maneuver his way out without jostling the precious, expensive cargo.

“You’re good at this stuff, y’know,” he says as the two of you fall into step together.

“At… picking cakes?”

He snorts, “No. I meant the whole… I don’t know. You’re good at remembering stuff, the cakes mom likes, dad’s weird habits. You probably already know what flowers we’re going to pick for her, don’t you?”

This time you don’t bother hiding your smile – peonies, pink ones.

You go to tell him as much when a loud voice calls out your name. On instinct, you both spin to the source, and when you meet those piercing, olive green eyes, bearing down at you from the other side of the street, your heart leaps into your throat.

A ghost.

You can’t breathe. For a moment you can’t even think. Your hand stretches out, blindly seeking Heisuke, an anchor, anything–

Before your fingers can brush his sleeve, a hard, lean body collides with yours, sweeping you up into a crushing hug. Not Iwaizumi, though.

Oikawa, taller, broader than the last time you saw him, smelling of citrus, summer and salt lets out a breathy noise, halfway between amazement and disbelief.

“There you are,” he beams, setting you back on unsteady legs.

Found you, the glint in his eyes seems to say.

Rather than let you go, step back and give you some much needed space to breathe, his palm instead slides to rest on your hip, taking your chin between the index finger and thumb of his other hand in order to look at you properly, dark eyes poring over you for signs of anything amiss – bruises, tear-tracks, red eyes, swollen, split lips.

Your mouth goes dry.

On one side, there’s your brother, bewildered, arm half outstretched as if he can’t make his mind up whether he should be intervening or not. Iwa’s already jogging across the street, snarling at a driver who lays on his horn.

The weight of Oikawa’s appraisal is as familiar to you as it is oppressive, and while his touch is delicate, featherlight, it burns to the marrow. Suddenly you’re fourteen again, trying to duck past him before he can notice the state of you.

‘It’s nothing, Tooru, don’t worry about it!’

And just like back then, there’s a knot in your chest that doesn’t loosen until satisfaction melts the too sharp edge to his grin – right as Iwa joins you two. Three, you suppose, because while Heisuke remains in stunned silence, eyes darting between you and Oikawa, he’s still party to this, still a witness, and the thought makes you want to curl up into a ball and disappear forever.

(You shove down the fleeting rush of warmth at the relief you find there, the voice in your head that coos that he still cares enough to check. You don’t want him to care.)

“Holy fuck,” Iwa laughs, and Oikawa’s shoved aside, both of you ignoring the indignant grumbling as your rigid body’s pulled into his chest, his hand finding its way to the back of your head. He breathes in slow. Deep.

He still smells the same, earthy and masculine, the faintest tinge of his last cigarette still clinging to his jacket. Back then, he used to steal them from your foster father. You imagine that now, he probably has the money to go off and buy his own.

“I’m sorry, who are you? What– can you let her go, please?”

If it wasn’t them, the sheer absurdity of the moment might’ve made you giggle. Heisuke’s ears are bright red, a flush that extends down his neck. He doesn’t look angry per se, uncomfortable, absolutely, but from the pinched expression on his face, it’s clear he’s fighting the urge to bite out something far less polite.

None of this, least of all the way they’re tugging you between them like a rag-doll, feels very polite to begin with.

As it is, Heisuke’s interruption has the intended effect. The fingers wound in your hair twitch, the cage of his arms drawing you closer. You almost expect the baring of teeth, a possessive snarl, yet it’s a small, almost imperceptible thing. He retreats – reluctantly – turning to glance at your brother, Oikawa by his side.

Judging from the stony, almost bored expression he levels at Hei, he’s not impressed.

“Friend of yours, imouto?” Oikawa’s purr skitters down your spine like ice. Unlike Iwa, there’s nothing less than friendly curiosity on the surface. He’s even smiling.

Tongue darting out to wet your lips, you find your voice.

“Hei, this is Iwaizumi and Oikawa,” you say, gesturing at each respectively. “We were in the same foster home for a while.” Sparing the two of them half a glance, you continue, “We’re actually right in the middle of something, if you’ll excuse us.”

The explicit dismissal’s bolder than you feel, but you’re proud that your voice doesn’t waver. You can’t say the same for your hand when you reach for Heisuke’s spare one, uttering the words that’ll only damn you further, “C’mon, nii-san. Mom and dad are waiting.”

Heisuke doesn’t blink. His hand slips into yours, the two of you sidestepping the pair and walking off towards the car without a backwards glance.

Neither one of you speaks until you’re buckled into the passenger seat, Heisuke adjusting the rear-view mirror, the cake safely stashed away in the back. Until you’re pulling out onto the main road and there’s distance between you and them.

If only the gnawing, unsettling feeling in your stomach would go with it.

“Sorry,” you mumble, blankly staring out the window at the passing scenery. At the clouds hanging overhead, dark and threatening. Funny, that. Fitting. The skies were clear when you left home this morning. “About the nii-san thing, and grabbing your hand,” you clarify, because whether it was rude or not, you’ll be damned before you apologise for brushing them off.

That’s not your relationship with Hei. It’s never been that.

He eyes you for a beat. “You know, I never understood why mom wanted to adopt so bad. Dad too, but mom was always the one pushing for it. We were happy, the three of us. I wasn’t a screw up, their marriage was solid. I couldn’t understand the need to bring someone else in. Our family was fine, perfect the way it was.”

His thumb taps against the steering wheel, his shoulders loose and relaxed. You can’t quite pin the mood he’s in, where he’s going with this.

“Oh,” you say, mostly because it feels like he’s waiting for you to acknowledge it.

None of what he’s saying is news to you. None of it’s anything you haven’t wondered yourself a thousand times over. It’s just that Heisuke… you’ve never talked about this. Your adoption, your relationship with him, none of it. This sort of honesty is brand new territory for you both.

You’re not so sure you’re loving the development.

“When they committed to it, I thought they’d bring home a baby, a kid, not some weird, skittish fourteen year old who wanted nothing to do with me.”

Ah.

Your cheeks heat, and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere but here. If Heisuke notices how you shift in your seat, the small tightening of your expression, he plows on regardless.

“You wouldn’t look at me, would barely talk to me. Hell, you acted like I had the plague most of the time. You didn’t hate me, I don’t think, you just… didn’t want to be anywhere near me, and it bugged the hell out of me. I couldn’t figure it out; who wouldn’t want an older brother to look out for them?” His next words hit you like a sledgehammer, cracking at something vital in your chest. It hurts before he opens his mouth.

“It was them, wasn’t it? The reason you steered clear ‘til I moved out of home.”

“Heis–”

He cuts you off with a look. “I’m right, aren’t I?” he demands.

“Can we just– it doesn’t matter, alright? Can we move on?”

From the unhappy set of his jaw – the first true sign of discontent he’s expressed since getting in the car with you – it’s obvious there’s more he wants to say. You can’t blame him for that, curiosity’s only human.

But you’re still too raw. It’s too soon.

You’ve spent too long burying those secrets deep to rip yourself apart to bring them to light.

“Please, Hei. Let’s focus on mom’s birthday.” You force a smile, tiny and wrong, “The florist is next, yeah?”

You get a grunt of acknowledgement and not much more than that, your brother’s attention pulling back to the drive. The silence that settles in the car should bring some relief. It’s what you wanted, and yet, amongst the churning feeling in your guts, the prickling at the back of your neck that hasn’t left you since you first spotted Iwa across the road, there’s a sense of discomfort that has nothing to do with crossing paths with your past life.

Like a slap in the face, it hits you that you’re floundering for something to say, something – anything – to bridge the sudden, stark divide between you. Something that won’t sound hollow and meaningless.

This thing you have with Heisuke. It took years, and maybe it’s skin deep and miles from what it should be, but the thought of losing it leaves you feeling oddly panicked.

It’ll… hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, because it’s about all you can give him right now, a tried and true method of soothing egos and hurt.

Heisuke doesn’t say anything for the remainder of the drive, and you resign yourself to the very real possibility that in the course of a single conversation, you’ve managed to fracture this fragile thing between you two.

Until you go for the door, and a hand on your wrist stops you. “Hey. I’m glad they did.”

—

When you startle awake a little after midnight, it’s because he’s yelling again.

Mr. Furukawa had been in fine form at dinner, already three beers deep. You can only begin to imagine what’s set him off now, hours after lights out. His wife, probably. Although it’s equally possible he’s caught the oldest sneaking back in from seeing his girlfriend, or the twins trying to break into the pantry for a midnight snack. Or he tripped and stubbed his toe, or thought someone stole the rest of his beer when in reality he’d already swallowed it down.

The reasons don’t really matter when he’s been drinking like that, in the same way that the initial target of his ire doesn’t matter. Once his voice reaches that slurred, furious pitch, anyone’s fair game.

There’s a pair of headphones in the top drawer, you have every intention of yanking them out and putting on one of your sleep playlists, drowning out the noise of your foster father’s drunken raging until he wears himself out or you fall back to sleep when you hear the thumping of his feet on the staircase.

“Where’s that fucking bitch?”

Eyes wide in the darkness, clutching at the comforter, your pulse jumps.

Again, it’s possible he’s talking about Mrs. Furukawa, or one of your foster sisters – the older one hunched over in the bed opposite yours, watching you shrewdly.

“Well go on then,” she sneers. “Run to your big brothers.”

You don’t bother to respond, any hesitation you might’ve had over leaving her to fend for herself shrivelling up under the mocking bitterness she’s sending your way. Fine, whatever. You don’t care what she thinks, scrambling from the warmth of your bed and hurrying for the door.

He’s halfway up the staircase when you reach their room. You’d knock – it’s the polite thing to do – except you definitely don’t want to be out in plain view when your foster father hits the landing.

“Hajime?” you whisper into the darkness, slipping inside and shutting the door behind you, “Tooru?”

“Shit, c’mere.” At Hajime’s voice, the calloused, rough hands that guide you onto his mattress, the vice around your chest loosens. He won’t come in here, not after Hajime socked him in the face after catching sight of the raised, discoloured flesh of your cheek from your last run in. You’ve gotten better at using make-up to conceal the marks since then, but there’s also been less of a need for it.

“Can I stay for a bit?” you ask. Until he calms down and passes out. Until the sun rises and you can sneak back into your room. Until you feel safe again. It’s kind of a pointless question, considering how many times you’ve done this before and how many times they’ve let you. You ask it anyway.

The scoff that sounds moments before the mattress dips on your other side is answer enough. “You should probably just move in at this point. We’ll kick Iwa out, he can go sleep in bitch-face’s room.”

Although you know you shouldn’t, a not-so-nice grin tugs at your lips, nestling into Tooru’s side under the arm he offers, “She’d drive him homicidal in a week.”

“Doesn’t she already?” Hajime mutters. “And fuck off, if anyone’s moving out it’s you.”

“You’d miss me too much.”

Absentmindedly, he rubs at your arm like it’s second nature. “In your dreams, Shitty-kawa.”

You can still hear Mr. Furukawa stomping around outside, snarling and snapping at no-one and nothing. Your pulse skitters, an inbuilt panic response. But the lights are off, you’re not being too noisy, and he’s wary of the other two.

He won’t come in here.

“Relax, we’ve got you,” Tooru breathes, his nose nudging at your temple. “Where were you this afternoon?” His voice is so soft, a soothing rumble that it takes you a second to register what he’s said.

“This afternoon?”

“Mm. You didn’t come home when you were supposed to. We were worried.”

He’s pouting, you can tell. Which– he can’t be genuinely bothered by it, it was only a few hours, and the Furukawas don’t care where you are or what you do so long as you’re back before curfew. You were.

A distraction then?

“I went out with some friends. We hung out at the arcade for a bit,” your expression brightens, thinking of the lights and the laughter, your feet blurring as you hit the sensors on Dance Dance Revolution… poorly. “It was actually pretty fun!”

Tooru hums again, “Which friends?” at the same time that Hajime says, “You didn’t tell us you were going out.”

“I didn’t realise I had to check in.” And because the slightly bitter and very defensive edge to your tone catches even you by surprise, you sigh, softening. “I’m allowed to have friends, aren’t I? A social life?”

You’ve been in this home for a few months now, and this is the first time any of your classmates have invited you anywhere.

This time it’s Tooru who sighs. He coaxes your face upwards with a hand on your cheek, peering through the dim light at you, “I’m not saying this to be cruel or hurt you, but… I need you to be more careful, okay?”

You frown, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His thumb glides across your cheek bone, hesitating on whatever it is he wants to say– at least until Hajime huffs and mutters, “Just tell her, dude. You’re the one that brought it up.”

“Tell me what?”

“You’re a foster kid,” he reminds you, as if this is vital information that’s somehow slipped your mind. “That’s all they see when they look at us, all they’ll ever see. No money, no family, nothing worth wasting their time on. We’re charity cases at best, at worst…” he trails off, the sentence dangling in the air.

He thinks it’s a trick, you realise. He thinks they’re setting you up in an elaborate joke where you’re the punchline.

Bright blue eyes and a crooked grin flash in your head. Cheeks dusted pink and the warmth of his hand in yours.

“That’s not true,” you defend, though the words sound weak even to your ears.

Now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, the gentle, pitying expression on his face twists at your insides like a knife. You hardly notice Hajime scooching closer, shifting the blankets so they cover you both, too busy staring at your foster brother with wide eyes and parted lips, a thick lump of emotion lodging itself in your throat. Tears prickle in the corners of your eyes, and you blink them back.

You won’t cry in front of them over this. You refuse.

“No? You’ve been here for months now. If they wanted to be your friend, truly, genuinely wanted that, why haven’t they made an effort before now? I’m not trying to be a dick,” he murmurs when your breathing hitches, “The kids in this town, they’re assholes. I just can’t bear the thought of someone hurting you.”

Hajime nods. “We only wanna protect you, imouto.”

But you don’t need to be protected. Omori isn’t like that. His friends aren’t either.

—

When the last bell rings for the day, you walk down to the gates to find Hajime there, leaning against the brickwork with a pilfered cigarette dangling between his fingers.

That in and of itself isn’t a surprise. Lately they’ve taken up the habit of ditching their last period to make the half mile trek to your school in order to walk back home with you. Most days, you don’t mind. Today, however–

“I sent you a message at lunch, you didn’t need to come all the way down here, I’m going to a friend’s place to study. Sorry, I thought you would’ve seen it before you left.”

He drops the cherry red remnants of his cigarette to the ground and grinds the butt under his heel, eyeing you slowly from head to toe. “Which friend?”

“When did you become so nosey?” you laugh, a touch uneasily. “It’s only for an hour or so, I’ll be back before dinner, promise. I’m all yours after that.” The last part’s meant to lighten the mood a little, yet something flashes in his eyes, a twitch in his jaw, and you get the sense that he doesn’t find it all that funny.

“Which friend? That slimy piece of shit you were hanging out with last weekend?”

Omori? How does he–

You frown, “We went to the movies, Hajime, it’s not illegal. And he’s not slimy or a little shit, he’s my friend.” A friend who sets butterflies loose in your stomach and makes you weak at the knees, but Hajime doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh, I’m sure he wants to be your friend,” he mutters darkly.

Your cheeks burn hotly, “Why are you being like this? He’s a nice guy. Besides, it’s not him. I’m going to Masako’s to work on a group presentation we’ve got due in a few days. I didn’t think you’d make such a big deal out of it!”

“Your mistake,” he says, as if you’re the one being unreasonable here, and before you can spit out a retort, his hand is curled around your bicep, tugging you down the road. “C’mon, we’re going home. Tell your little friend you can work on your project tomorrow at lunch.”

“Ha-Hajime!” His too tight grip on you doesn’t relent, his stride doesn’t falter. Nervously, you dart a glance around, half hoping that someone will intercede, all the while praying that no one’s actually noticed him dragging you off like a misbehaving toddler.

As always, you’re not that lucky. The sight of your classmates pointing your way, giggling behind their hands sends a hot pulse of shame flooding through you.

“You know you’re not my actual brother, I don’t need your permission!”

That does stop him, turning back around to throw a scowl at you, “No? Because I don’t see anyone else lining up to stop you from spreading your legs for the first asshole who comes sniffing around. Jesus Christ, weren’t you listening the other day?”

“I’m fourteen!” you shriek, ripping your arm away from him. “Stop being gross and leave me alone, I already told you I’m going to Masako’s. We have a project. For school!”

In an instant, he closes the gap between you. Hajime isn’t as tall as Tooru, but at two years older, he still towers over you, all broad shouldered and intense, and while he’s always cut an intimidating figure, it strikes you that this is the first time you’ve ever looked at him and felt afraid.

A split second later, and he exhales with a mumbled curse, the tension deflating from his body like a pin’s been pulled. In a quieter voice, hooking an arm over your neck to press a fleeting kiss to your hair, he says, “Sometimes it feels like I’m losing my damn mind trying to keep us all safe and sane and fucking together.”

It’s not exactly an apology. Still…you shift on your feet, nibbling at your bottom lip. “I’m sorry for snapping,” you mumble – an olive branch, even if you’re not feeling particularly charitable right now. The problem is, you do understand where he’s coming from. In two years, they’ll both age out, free to go and do whatever the hell they want. There’s a not insignificant part of you that’s terrified that when that time comes, they’re not gonna hang around another two years waiting for you.

You’re not sure you can hold them to that promise.

And that’s if nothing happens before then. Foster kids in group homes get shuffled all the time, there’s no guarantee all three of you will still be with the Furukawas come their 18th birthdays.

Of course he’s over-protective. Of course he’s being a little nuts about it.

Hajime nods, pats you on the head and gives you a rare smile, “Good. Now get your ass moving, we gotta get home.”

“Wait, but I thought–” you’d apologised, he’d admitted he was overreacting… sort of. Isn’t that enough?

“Social worker’s coming by this afternoon. Furukawa wants us to play happy families ‘til they’re gone. Your friend’s gonna have to wait.”

And that’s that.

Dejection washes over you, trudging back home with Hajime – trying not to be childish and petty and hold it against him.

The social worker never shows, but there’s a message waiting on your phone when you finally manage to pry yourself away from Hajime and Tooru.

Your brother’s a dick. Raincheck? ;)

Butterflies erupt.

—

You’ve been biting your lip again.

The raw, chapped evidence stares back at you in the mirror.

A few days ago, they were a little swollen, rough and reddened. The sight of it sent a giddy sort of thrill through you, a physical – if not sore – reminder of your afternoon spent kissing a cute boy with very pretty blue eyes.

Now, the state of your lips is the least of your worries. You’ll bite your lips, gnaw on your fingernails right down to the quick, pace and think and pace and think, fingers tap, tap tapping at your side.

“You look tired.”

The arms that loop around your shoulders, dragging you back into a loose hug don’t bring the sense of comfort they usually do. Things have been weird between you. Off.

Ever since Tooru caught sight of your face that day, saw the messages on your phone.

‘I never took you for a liar, imouto.’

The resultant argument left you choking on sobs, heart-broken and beaten down in a way that you haven’t felt since you found out your parents died.

It’s a strange, alienating thing to be cut so viciously by the only people who give a damn about you.

At first, you had Omori there to help pick up the pieces. He wasn’t allowed over, of course, and even if he were, you doubt it’d do anything but throw a whole gallon of kerosene on the fire. Still, being able to message and vent to him felt like a lifeline.

And then he simply… stopped replying. Your last message sitting there for two days on read.

You tried not to feel hurt. Maybe this whole thing was too intense, too quick. My god, you weren’t even dating officially, he was just, you were–

It was fine. Not everyone’s tied to their phone, and he doesn’t owe you anything. Maybe something came up, maybe his phone died.

But then, come Monday, he wasn’t in school.

On Tuesday morning, sitting in first period maths, a grim-faced man in a dull suit informs your class that Omori’s been missing since Saturday morning. You’re passed a business card with the detective’s name and phone number printed in crisp, black font and encouraged to contact him if there’s anything you can think of that might help them.

Uneasy looks are shared. No one says a word.

Which brings you to today, to the hug Tooru’s drawn you into and his voice murmuring at your ear.

“Aren’t you still mad at me?”

His laugh rumbles at your back, “Maybe I miss you too much.”

You should tell him to shove it. Whether you’re in the right or the wrong, it’s not fair of him to play hot and cold with you like this. Being at odds with your brothers is painful enough on its own, dealing with that on top of everything with Omori – it’s too much. You’ll drown under the weight of it.

And so you turn, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying yourself against him. “I don’t wanna fight anymore. I’m sorry.”

While he doesn’t say anything back, he does squeeze you that little bit tighter. You’re content with that, soaking up the affection and comfort you’ve sorely been without. It’s an apology, yes. It’s also forgiveness.

“Where’s Hajime?” you ask after a little while. They aren’t inseparable by any means, but you don’t think you’ve seen him this afternoon at all.

Rather than answering you, the brunet pulls back enough to meet your gaze, a twinkle in his eyes, “We’re going out tonight.”

The words bring you up short. “But–”

“Furukawa won’t know a thing. It’ll be fun, pinky promise.” He holds out said pinky, the grin on his face infectious enough that you offer a tiny one of your own, locking your finger around his.

He winks.

—

“Sweetheart, shall we open the wine?”

She hasn’t stopped beaming all afternoon, delighted at the flowers and the gifts, your dad humming away in the kitchen, cooking enough to feed a small army.

Heisuke’s already plucking a bottle from the fridge, glasses set out on the counter. He lifts a questioning brow in your direction and you nod with as much of a smile as you can muster. Nothing sounds more appealing to you right now than a drink.

Several of them, actually. You’ll start with one.

“Thanks,” you murmur when he passes it to you.

Quietly enough that your parents won’t hear, he asks, “You good?”

“I’m good,” you reassure him, lying through your teeth. His knuckles knock against yours, and when you glance up, there’s a wordless promise that the two of you aren’t done with this.

He’s been watching you ever since you got home. Not in the predatory, possessive way they used to, just… you very reluctantly gave him crumbs – not even that much – yet he’s staring at you like you’re a piece of a puzzle he’s desperate to solve. He’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

It makes you nervous.

“Did something happen between you two?” The quiet voice at your side startles you – perhaps you’re more on edge than you’d like to admit, because your whole body flinches, the wine in your glass sloshing up over the rim, just barely avoiding your dress and the edge of the couch.

You hadn’t even noticed your mom had sat down.

Cursing under your breath, you jump up before she can, snatching some paper towels from the kitchen, paying no mind the slight, disapproving tilt to your father’s mein (the one which, to his credit, he does try to hide) to mop up the mess on the floor.

“Sorry,” you throw out, both for the spill and for swearing, because that too is something neither of your parents are fond of, but your mom’s quick to wave it away.

“Nonsense. You’re fine, sweet girl. Come, sit!” She pats the seat you’ve vacated. “Relax.”

Your dad’s in the kitchen, laughing with Hei. Your mom’s still happy – it’s slowly leaching from her eyes the longer she looks at you, the more she sees. Relax.

Today’s supposed to be a happy day.

Relax.

You can’t.

They know some of your past. Bits and pieces.

In ten years, you’ve never uttered a single word about them. Not to anyone.

The more you shove it down, the more it fights back, bubbling away inside of you like the tempest of a storm. You can feel yourself cracking, unshed tears burning at your eyes.

You can’t.

“… Mom–”

A knock cuts through the rising tide of emotion battering through you, and all four of you start.

Your dad moves first, drying his hands and striding on over to answer it. On his way, he glances to where you and your mom are sitting – instinctively. Unthinkingly. He glances her way a thousand times a day – to check in, to see what she’s doing, to catch those little expressions she makes, only this time he isn’t met with the picture of a happy wife and daughter. You see it when it hits him, the tension, your wrought expression, the hand your mom’s slipped you in the seconds since, holding you tight and keeping you tethered.

You see it when he does a double take, sharp surprise quickly overtaken by alarm.

Another knock at the door. Louder.

His head snaps back towards the door, glaring at it like it’s personally wronged him. “One sec,” he mutters to no one in particular, and your mom squeezes your hand as he yanks it open with a touch more force than necessary.

“Yes?”

The air punches out of your lungs.

From where you’re sitting, the door cracked ajar, your dad’s frame blocking the gap, you can’t see who’s there. Not until he peeks over your dad’s shoulder, his charming grin widening into something shark-like and predatory when he spots you, delighted.

An elevator careening out of control, your stomach plummets.

Ignoring your dad – your family as a whole – entirely, Oikawa addresses you. “You dropped this this morning. Clumsy girl.”

Iwa passes him something, your wallet, you realise when he holds it out to you, waving it like a dog treat.

Your wallet with your ID, this address, tucked away inside.

The wallet you absolutely, in no way dropped.

Primarily on instinct, shaking like a newborn foal, you start to rise, to stumble forward and take it from him, only it’s Heisuke who moves first. Angrier than you think you’ve ever seen him, he plants himself between you, one arm outstretched as if to keep you back, his withering gaze fixed on the duo.

“Thank you for returning it,” he bites out. “You can leave now.”

For your parents, already on edge, suspicious by their familiarity and your reaction to it, it’s enough to set their hackles up. Gone is any semblance of politeness when your father snatches your wallet from Oikawa’s fingers, “Go.”

Up until now, Oikawa’s paid them all the attention one would a gnat, an annoyance maybe, but one hardly worth acknowledging. That changes as his head tilts, dark eyes appraising your father.

“What’s the rush?” he asks, reaching behind him. You can’t see it, what with your dad and now Heisuke standing between you, but there’s movement, your dad lets out a sudden, choked off gurgle, lurching back inside.

Your eyes widen, a bone chilling horror taking hold of you as you spy the sleek black handle of a knife sticking out his gut, a slow stain of red seeping out around it.

“We’ve still got so much catching up to do.”

—

You’ve never been this far into the woods before.

Stars glitter overhead, condensation from your breath puffing out with every exhale. It’s cold out. The path you’re walking isn’t one of the trails they lay for hikers and tourists, and you’ve been walking for a while.

Still, Tooru’s hand is warm entwined with yours, and there’s that wicked thrill in your belly that comes from breaking the rules, doing secret, exciting things in the dead of night.

“Is Hajime waiting for us?” you ask, when you can hold the question back no longer.

“Always Hajime with you, isn’t it,” he teases. “Y’know, a guy could develop a complex with all this favouritism being thrown around.”

You’re pulled closer into his side even as he says it, and you go happily. You’ve got your brothers back – tonight you’re only thinking good thoughts.

Tonight he promised you fun.

A giddy bounce in your step, you follow where your big brother leads until you spot a glow in the trees ahead, smell the smoke on the mid-autumn breeze.

Tooru grins in the dark, “Have you ever been to a bonfire?”

You shake your head.

It takes another few minutes before you can see the fire in all its grandeur, Hajime standing off to the side, warming his hands against the flames. They dance through the clearing, bright and high and hot, hot enough that you briefly consider shedding the jacket Tooru swaddled you up in before you left.

A bonfire?

They built this for you?

You look incredulously to Tooru, “This is where he’s been all day?”

“More or less.”

“Do you like it, pretty girl?” Hajime calls out when you’re closer. Your hand slips from Tooru’s as you leap forward, allowing him to catch you in his arms and tug you against him, and like earlier with Tooru, it eases some of the hurt weighing you down. He’s here, he’s not angry anymore, you can fight and argue like siblings but they aren’t going anywhere.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, smoothing down your hair. “It’s pretty cool,” you tell him with a decisive nod, making him chuckle.

“Maybe we should add more accelerant,” Tooru says, eyeing the flames with a considering look. “I don’t know if it’s hot enough.”

Hajime scoffs, “We don’t need any more accelerant.”

“But–”

“It’s fine, dumbass. Leave it.”

Heaving out a long suffering sigh, Tooru takes the space on your other side. In the Western movies you’ve seen, these bonfire things usually have more of a party-like vibe. There’s music and dancing. Drinking. This is something wholly different.

You don’t mind the quiet, though, sitting between your brothers on the fallen log they dragged over. Listening to the crackle of the fire. Watching red embers spark and fly off into the night.

You’ve missed this. Them.

In the hypnosis of the fire, the heat that covers you like a blanket – burning strongly enough, despite what Tooru thinks, that down to a tee-shirt, leaning into Hajime’s side, Tooru playing with your fingers, you feel you could so easily drift off to sleep, sated and content.

“You love us, don’t you?” Tooru says it so quietly, so off-handedly, that for a moment you don’t hear the stinging accusation beneath the words.

When it does, whatever fleeting contentment you’d managed to wrap yourself up in is ripped away, leaving you cold and exposed.

A slap in the face might’ve stung less.

You gape at him. At the both of them. “How can you ask me that?”

Tooru shrugs, casual and cruel, “I dunno. You lied to us. Multiple times.”

“Snuck around behind our backs,” Hajime adds.

“Kept things from us. Don’t think we haven’t noticed the new lock on your phone, imouto. Doesn’t sound like love to me.”

“I– I’ve already apologised.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but with every word that pours out of you, the faster your heart beats and the more distress leaks into your tone. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I went behind your backs, I’m sorry I kissed him! I don’t know what you want from me, I don’t know how to fix this!”

Hot tears spring to your eyes, stinging as you ferociously blink them back.

If you start crying now, they’ll probably just mock you. That, or they’ll claim that you’re trying to manipulate them into feeling bad with crocodile tears and hiccuping sniffles.

In a tiny voice, you say, “I didn’t do any of it to hurt you. Please,” you beg helplessly. “You can’t keep holding it over my head and punishing me for it.”

“You think we’re punishing you?” Tooru asks, still in that cold, flat tone that makes you want to sob.

Aren’t they? Sure feels like it.

Hajime lets out a heavy exhale, shaking his head and staring up at the night sky. “You still don’t fucking get it.”

Hands slip under your armpits and without warning you find yourself hoisted onto Tooru’s lap. It’s whiplash, especially when he curls around you, those lithe arms caging you in, and presses a kiss to your burning cheek. “Iwa, brute that he is, is right. You’re not listening to us. This isn’t punishment. You can pretend to hate us, cry, yell, fight. You can try to shut us out if that’s what you feel you need, but this,” his chin juts out at the bonfire crackling merrily a few feet away, “this is love.” He shivers as he says it, voice like honey. “We did it for you, and I’d do so much more.”

Your head’s still spinning, reeling from being yanked from one extreme to another. Hot and cold. Spiteful to affectionate. You stare at the fire, but you don’t understand.

“Yeah, like you didn’t enjoy the hell out of it,” Hajime snorts, which makes even less sense.

“…You mean the– the bonfire?”

Tooru laughs. His nose skims along the shell of your ear, earning him a shiver of your own. “Hm, almost.”

So you peer at the fire like it’s supposed to give you the answers you need. There’s nothing. It’s a fire, there’s nothing special about…

Oh.

You learn forward – as much as the cage of his embrace will allow, at any rate – squinting a little. Nestled beneath the stacked logs and kindling, there’s an oddly shaped lump, black and gnarled, with ridges and a scooped out hollow that kinda looks like–

Your blood runs cold.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he croons. “You’ve been so sad all week, wondering where your friend up and disappeared to. Aren’t you glad to see him again?”

“No.” Whisper soft, the noise lost to the crackling of the fire. You shake your head, “This– you’re being cruel. Stop it, it’s not funny.”

But the tears you’ve so valiantly held back are falling, your breath coming in short, panicky gasps. The skull in the fire doesn’t look fake, and if this is a prank, it’s gone beyond too far.

Your head grows light and all too heavy at the same time, “That isn’t– you didn’t– you… you– you wouldn’t–”

“No?” the voice at your ear questions, low and dangerous. “You think I wouldn’t stab the little fuck after you kissed him?”

“Stop it,” you tearfully beg, squeezing your eyes shut. The skull’s still there, burned into the back of your eyelids.

No, no, no. Omori isn’t dead.

Omori isn’t dead.

Your heart slams against your ribs, a violent chorus to the swell of sick dread and fear you’re desperately trying to tamp down. Omori isn’t dead!

“STOP IT!”

They wouldn’t kill him.

The crunch of footsteps sounds, and you don’t need your vision to know that Hajime’s now crouching in front of you. When rough fingers seize your jaw, holding you in place, and he leans in close, almost nose to nose, they fly open regardless.

“You ever try that shit again, and next time we’ll drag you by the fucking hair and do it in front of you,” he promises, calm despite the fury that rages in his eyes.

Caged between them, Hajime appraises you, taking in your hysteria, the tears dripping down your face, your bottom lip quivering – as though he’s committing the sight to memory. His eyes dart to Tooru’s for a brief second, the latter squeezing your side, before he speaks. “If you’d listened to us in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. Don’t make us into monsters, sweetheart.”

Your fault is what you hear.

There’s a loud pop from the fire, and you lose it entirely.

You explode. Elbows flying, kicking, clawing. A wild, terrified, desperate thing, and it takes them by surprise – enough to catch Tooru in the gut, loosening his grip. Enough to knock Hajime back onto his ass. A gap, however small, for you to scramble to your knees, violently kicking back when a hand snatches at your ankle, and flee through the woods in the dark, away from the furious shouts, the raging footsteps chasing after you.

You run and your lungs burn, heaving for every breath.

The light of the bonfire disappears behind you, plunging the forest into an inky black, and the shouts and yells turn into calls of your name, then coaxing pleas, almost sounding worried. Eventually, those grow distant too, and fade away altogether.

You keep running, uncertain of where you’re going. No, blind to it entirely. All that matters is keeping out of their reach. You’ll run to the ends of the earth if you have to.

And so you push until your legs scream for a reprieve, until you taste iron on your tongue and when your body can keep the pace no longer, you stumble through the underbrush, tripping over roots and branches instead, pausing every once in a while to lean against a tree and catch your breath.

As your adrenaline fades and the sweat dampening your clothes cools, the cold night air bites like needles at your skin, you start to shiver, rubbing at your exposed arms in an effort to generate a little warmth. Bitterly, you remember that the jacket that you’d brought, the one Tooru had all but forced on you before you’d left, is back at the bonfire, slung over a nearby log. Useless to you now.

But the shivers that wrack your body aren’t solely from the dropping temperature.

Every snapping branch, hoot of an owl, rustle of leaves sends a fresh wave of terror spiking through you. You think of Tooru’s cruel smirk and Hajime’s bruising grip, of Omori’s skull staring back at you from the fire, flesh melted to the bone, black and twisted, and a ragged, distraught sob brings you to your knees.

Hopelessly lost, cold, frightened and alone, you curl into the dirt and cry.

—

Hikers find you at dawn.

Emergency services are called – an ambulance to take you to the nearest hospital to be poked and prodded, police to question why a fourteen year old girl was wandering the woods alone at night.

They treat you for dehydration and mild hypothermia, a few small cuts and scrapes, and when a soft spoken nurse pulls the curtain around your bed and gently asks if you’d like them to perform a rape kit, you blanch and shake your head. Eventually, they allow the detective into the room. In his late forties, bespectacled, a smattering of grey dusted throughout his close cropped black hair, he pulls up a chair beside the bed and patiently asks how you’re feeling.

If you were a better person, you’d tell him everything. The Furukawas’ abuse, your foster brothers’ increasingly overprotective behaviour, sneaking behind their back to see Omori and the fight that followed that nearly ripped you apart.

The bonfire.

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

Omori deserves that much. His parents should know what happened to their son.

Your jacket lying forgotten by his bones.

“Please don’t take me back there,” you mumble, tears shining in your eyes.

Back to the woods, or the Furukawas. Back to the boys you’d loved who’d murdered for you.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter that that’s all they can get out of you. A traumatised teenager found miles from home without a single soul raising the alarm would be one thing. When that traumatised teenager’s a girl supposedly under the care of government approved guardians, it raises red flags not even they can ignore.

By lunch, they’ve arranged for you to be placed back in an all-girl orphanage until a more suitable, long term solution can be found.

—

Some nights you dream that you’re back there, in their bedroom at the Furukawas’. It’s dark and cozy, there’s an arm slung over your waist and you find yourself drifting off to the steady beat of the heart behind you, soft snores by your ear.

They’re nice dreams. You feel safe, loved.

Tucked away in your subconscious, nothing exists but the sanctuary of them, and when you inevitably feel that tug of awareness coaxing you awake, you sink your fingers in and cling to it for dear life.

Just another minute. Another few seconds. Please.

Right now, you’d give anything to wake up and have this be nothing more than a nightmare you can banish.

But there’s no escaping this one. Your dad’s on the living room floor by the couch, hunkered over, pale and sweaty, pressing what was once a clean dish towel to the wound in his stomach. The coffee table’s been pushed to the side, Heisuke and your mom sat on the chairs Oikawa dragged into its place, ankles zip-tied to the legs, wrists bound, duct tape slapped across both of their mouths. Between the knife Oikawa idly toys with, still wet with blood, the handgun held loosely in Iwa’s palm and your dad slowly bleeding out on the floor, they’ve been compliant.

Much like you have, although you’re neither bound nor gagged, sitting in the armchair Iwa ushered you to, arms looped around your knees with the man himself perched against the backrest.

The only one of you making any kind of noise at all is your dad, his voice a slurring mumble, words near intelligible. He’s begging, you can tell that much. Pleading through gritted teeth for them to let you go, not to hurt you, your mom, Hei.

You desperately wanna tell him to save his breath, but you can’t even look at him – at any of them – without wanting to throw up.

“Do you still love us, imouto?”

Your eyes track Oikawa as he leans over the two chairs, the edge of his knife carelessly poised above Heisuke’s shoulder. From your periphery you see him flinch and stiffen, the sharp uptick of his breath smothered by duct tape, but you don’t dare shift your attention from the brunet smiling genially back at you.

Your heart squeezes, clenched by an invisible fist. Buried deep beneath the guilt and the paralysing dread, a slightly hysterical part of you almost wants to laugh.

“Do you think I could ever stop?”

Surprise flashes in his eyes and his grin widens. “You ran,” he accuses.

“You ran again this morning,” Iwa adds, sounding far less amused.

“I was scared.”

“Of us?” Iwa slides off the back of the couch, straightening up. In an instant, his hand’s wrapped around your throat, the broad pad of his thumb forcing your jaw upwards. “You think we’d ever fucking hurt you?” he growls, looking genuinely angry.

Distantly you register the sound of Heisuke’s muffled indignation, another gasping wheeze from your dad, but all that fades to the background as Iwa’s mouth crashes against yours.

He doesn’t kiss you sweetly. It’s invasive, rough. His hand flexes around your throat, forcing a gasp to drive his tongue between your lips, and you can feel every ounce of possession, of pent up need and frustration as he drags it on despite the awkward angle.

When he does break away, eyes darkened and simmering, he holds your gaze, ignoring the pointed throat clearing from the other side of the room. “Never,” he swears, waiting for you to nod before finally relaxing his grip. “Good girl.” To Oikawa, watching you both with a barely constrained hunger, he says, “Enough screwing around. Do it and let’s go.”

Oikawa huffs, rolling his eyes, “Fine. Should’ve known you’d get all impatient after you had a taste.”

“Like you’re not?”

There’s not enough air in the room, your heart’s doing somersaults in your chest, your pulse hammering through your veins. Oikawa stares at you, head tilted, the corner of his lip slowly curling up as you start to tremble, shaking your head, tears beading at your lashes, “I guess we could hurry it along.”

“No, please–”

“Shh, sweet girl. It’s okay.” You try to stand up, but Iwa takes a hold of your shoulder and forces you back down. “Me and Iwa, we were gonna give you a choice. Let you pick. If you could kill one of them, we’d let the other two go.”

A strangled sob rips its way free, your whole body shuddering with the force of it.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. We’re not gonna make you do that,” he comforts, side-stepping your now thrashing brother to make his way over towards you. “Cause the thing is, they kept you from us. Lied to you. Manipulated you. Whether they meant to or not, they hurt you. I don’t think they deserve that kind of mercy, do you?”

“No, no, no, please! Please don’t, please don’t hurt them–”

Abandoning his knife, he drops to a crouch in front of you, “We’re gonna make it right, and then we’ll go home, okay? We’ll take care of it.”

“Please, Tooru! I’ll do anything!”

There’s a kiss pressed to the crown of your head, the cushion behind your back being tugged free. “You don’t need to do anything,” Iwa says, the cold cocking of his gun echoing like a death knell.

“We love you. This one’s on us.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere iwaizumi x reader #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon

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volttrashz · 3 months

Note

I saw you do haikyuu, and i feel like nobody really does it anymore

Can you maybe do Hajime Iwaizumi x Dads Best friend! Male reader?

-🍡

-i agree. I don't do haikyuu unless it's requested.

ʜᴀᴊɪᴍᴇ ɪᴡᴀɪᴢᴜᴍɪ x ᴅʙꜰ! ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

cw:ᴍᴅɴɪ. ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ(ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ 40ꜱ, ɪᴡᴀɪᴢᴜᴍɪ ɪɴ 20ꜱ) ꜱɪᴢᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ. ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ.

"M-mff-S-slow down, please slow; my dad could."

"Shh, he ain't coming' anytime soon, sweetheart, I promise. Just let me fuck you stupid, yea?"You whisper huskily in his ear. A smirk is adorning your face.

He was about to respond in protest, but another thrust of yours quickly had him mewling into the sheets. Sobs were escaping his cute, plump, drool-ridden lips as you continued to hit and pound him into his childhood bed.

You loved how small he was compared to you. Your large hands enveloped either side of his waist as you pulled him back into you.

From the way his volume is increasing, he seems to not care anymore if you both get caught. Not when your cock is practically spitting him in half!

#iwaizumi hajime #top male reader #dom reader #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #sub character #iwaizumi x male reader

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suashii · 9 months

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୨♡୧ SWEET POTATO — iwaizumi hajime x f!reader. sfw. fluff. reader is pregnant.

“you know, i’m perfectly capable of going to the grocery store on my own,” you tell iwaizumi, lingering a step behind him as he walks down the aisle, scanning the items neatly lined up on the shelves. he only hums in acknowledgement. you click your tongue in mock annoyance because, despite your resistance to his assistance, you don’t mind having him around. still, you’re not used to being coddled like this. “being pregnant doesn’t mean i can’t walk. my feet aren’t defective.”

“just hush and let me help,” hajime speaks, resting one hand on the top of your head while the other reaches for a bag of brown rice. the weight on your head is comforting, a reminder of why iwaizumi is really here. ever since you read the positive test and the man who was meant to be with you walked out, iwaizumi, your best friend, stepped up and became your lifeline—attended all of your appointments, started reading baby books in his free time, calmed you down whenever you were feeling overwhelmed. he made sure you weren’t making this journey alone.

“can i at least push the cart?” you attempt to negotiate. you may not mind having him here with you, but you’d be lying if you said that following him around while he did all the work wasn’t getting boring. “wouldn’t it be safer to have something in front of me in case i trip?”

“how could you trip?” he asks, more humor in his voice than usual. “you just told me that your feet work fine.”

you groan at the way he twists your words, hands coming up to unconsciously rub at your belly. it’s become a habit of yours, caressing the steadily growing bump whenever you’re stressed or bored. it gives you something to do and floods you with an immeasurable amount of contentment.

“oh, congratulations, dear.” you turn at the sound of a frail voice. an elderly woman on the opposite side of the aisle looks at you through squinted eyes, a gentle smile pulling at her lips. you figure she’s referring to your stomach.

“thank you.”

“how far along are you?”

“eighteen weeks.” you smile. iwaizumi intently watches your interaction—the way your eyes light up and how your hands protectively cradle the little bulge. “this little one is the size of a sweet potato.”

the fruit and vegetable comparison was always a little silly to you but it came in handy during moments like these. this specific week actually helped you remember something that slipped your mind while you were making the list of items you needed.

“oh!” you snap and point at iwaizumi. “that’s what i forgot earlier. i’m going to go grab a few.”

“hold on, i’ll-” your hand shoots up, palm out, to stop him from finishing his sentence—one that you’re positive would include him insisting on joining you.

“hajime.” you’re more than grateful to have someone to lean on but at this rate, you’re going to forget how to live as an independent being. “i can walk a couple aisles down and bag some vegetables on my own.”

“right,” he curtly nods, “i’ll stay and wait for you here.”

you hurry off to grab the sweet potatoes your obstetrician recommended adding to your diet and leave iwaizumi to aimlessly shift back and forth on his feet.

“you must be excited.” the familiar voice catches the man’s attention, leading him to face the nice old woman.

“i’m sorry?”

“about becoming a father,” she clarifies.

his lips part in understanding and he nods. there’s no harm in letting one woman neither of you will see again think that he was the baby’s dad. it happened quite often but you always brush off the assumptions by jokingly saying “i wish.” it’s never bothered iwaizumi—people’s first thought being that he was the father or the fact that you corrected them. he expected as much when he offered a helping hand. what he didn’t expect was that his heart would jump every time he heard any variation of the word. he kept that to himself, though.

the woman slowly approaches iwaizumi and places a soothing hand on his arm. he has to look down to meet her eye but when he does, he’s met with nothing but warmth. her eyes crinkle with her smile. “i’m sure you and your wife will be great parents.”

she continues down the aisle, leaving iwaizumi with her words. his arms rest on the handle of the cart as the woman’s statement echoes in his head. parents. at the moment, hajime’s a support system—driving you around on errands and helping with chores around the house. the two of you haven’t discussed what his role will be after you’ve given birth, but, despite that, he knows he wants to be there for you and your baby every step of the way if you’ll have him.

“i’m back and bearing potatoes,” you announce your arrival, dropping the vegetables in the cart. your gaze falls to iwaizumi who’s staring ahead, his eyebrows knit together in deep thought. you reach out to smooth the crease between his brows with your thumb. “what’s wrong with you?”

“nothing.” what’s on his mind is a conversation better had not in a supermarket. “come on. let’s wrap this up and get you home for lunch.”

“gosh, you sound just like a dad,” you comment through a laugh, hooking your arm around one of his.

like clockwork, iwaizumi’s heart skips another beat. it feels different this time; he figures it’s because you’re the one who said it.

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi drabble #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu x you

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educatedsimps · 6 days

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— originals ˊˎ-

≪ back to fics masterlist ≪ back to main masterlist

— AKAASHI KEIJI:

under the moonlight ↳ fluff, drabble

— IWAIZUMI HAJIME:

11:06pm ↳ iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader ↳ fluff, timestamp, drabble

CAUGHT (coming soon!) ↳ miya atsumu x f!reader, ft. iwaizumi hajime ↳ fluff, lil bit of angst, love triangle, timeskip, college au

— MIYA ATSUMU:

coming home to you ↳ dad!miya atsumu x fem!reader ↳ FLUFF, slice of life

CAUGHT (coming soon!) ↳ miya atsumu x f!reader, ft. iwaizumi hajime ↳ fluff, lil bit of angst, love triangle, timeskip, college au

“your roots are showing” (coming soon!) ↳ miya atsumu x f!reader ↳ your favourite pisshead and the different times his hair was growing out

— MIYA OSAMU:

osamu’s triggers (headcanons)

— SUNA RINTARŌ:

traffic lights ↳ suna rintaro x f!reader ↳ angst

— MEIAN SHŪGO:

MEIAN SHŪGO BRAINROT ↳ no need for an explanation

— MULTIPLE:

11.50pm ↳ multiple hq boys ↳ FLUFF, drabble, timestamp

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zmbiesuga · 4 months

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I'M NOT A VIOLENT DOG, I DON'T KNOW WHY I BITE.

pairing: i. hajime x gn!reader

includes: hurt/no comfort, iwa gets into a fight, blood mention, cursing, iwa and reader are friends, reader refuses to be with iwaizumi due to emotional constipation, pre-timeskip, w.c 3.0k

notes: "always an angel never a god", "i don't know why i am the way i am ; not strong enough to be your man", "i can't love you how you want me too", yeah. i'm having a fucking field day.

soundtrack: not strong enough, bite the hand

It's nearly midnight when you hear the soft raps against your front door. You cautiously open it to find a disheveled Hajime, bruised and battered with red blood trickling down his nose.

"...The other guy looks worse..." he mumbles, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck, "...I didn't know where else to go, (y/n) I'm sorry. I had a fight with my dad and Oikawa is asleep for once — "

"Haji, just..." you say, holding up your hand with a sigh, moving to the side, "...just get inside, it's cold."

He's the last face you wanna see and the last person you want to offer a semblance of comfort for right now, but even though you haven't talked in weeks, he's still your friend.

"What was it this time?" you whisper, leading him in the bathroom. He sits on the edge of the tub and watches you rummage through the cabinet to find a first aid kit.

He can't help the way his eyes trail over your body, he wants to hold you. That was his first thought, he wants to hold you, feel you pressed against him while he sobs and apologizes for every little thing he's ever done wrong by you.

But he won't.

"Some guy, said somethin' stupid to me," he mumbled, looking down at his lap where his fists lay clenched in anger, "I don't...it's not right, I know, I know it isn't (y/n). I can't help it, I get so worked up over everything and then..."

He stops mid-sentence, breathing hitching as he raises his head to look at you. His gaze is pleading, begging you to understand a part of him that he won't even show you.

You offer him a sympathetic look for a split second before your eyebrows furrow, pressing the tissue against his nose and tilting his head up higher with your other hand on his chin.

"You can help it, Haji," you muttered, pulling back to look at him, your gaze almost pitying and it makes him sick to his stomach, "I know you can. You know what your problem is? You never know what you're feeling because all your emotions stack on top of each other like a jenga tower waiting to fall."

His own brows knit together, his own expression slowly turning to frustration, "You don't know shit about how I feel," he growls, "you don't know anything."

"You're right, I don't," you quip back, hand gripping his chin tighter, "how should I? You want me to love you, but you won't show every part of yourself. You're scared and you don't trust me enough to love you past all of it."

His gaze softens once more, pulling your hand away with a gentle tug and looking down at the bathroom floor in shame.

"I know you're scared, Haji," you whispered again, voice cracking with emotion as your eyes glazed over with tears, "I can't expect you not to be, but...you don't trust me. I get it, okay? It's hard to open up right away and that's not what I expect. I just want you to find a way to sort through it yourself."

How could he open up? Hajime Iwaizumi, the hothead, Oikawa Tooru's best friend. A side character to everything who's only there for the development of the main guy. It doesn't matter how he feels, it's a burden. It's who he is, what defines him. He loses that and he loses everything...except you, but he's not sure how much he wants to trade in his reputation for you yet.

And here you are, waiting for a man who doesn't know if he wants to change. Waiting for someone who you know is so much more than anger, than the side character. Waiting and waiting for when he sees that himself, but to no avail.

When he slowly lifts his head up to meet your gaze, you expect an apology. You expect a change in heart from him, a promise to figure out how to sort through it all. You can see his own eyes are watery, ironic the way he wouldn't let you see him cry. You expect everything except what he actually confesses.

"I'm moving to California."

#˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ love letters from leo #♡ : haikyuu #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x gn!reader #iwaizumi angst #iwa x reader #iwa x gn!reader #iwa angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu angst #hq x reader #hq x gn!reader #hq angst #ive had this in my drafts for a week #rewriting and rewriting because i was so afraid to get iwa's character wrong #so i hope i did him some justice

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strawberrykake · 2 years

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ꕥ fixing his daughter’s hair to match yours ꕥ

note: ty for 900!! As a thank you, I’ll post this early ❣️

father-son ver, fluff, lots of it, some domestic fluff, not rlly proofread

Osamu, Daichi, Akaashi, Iwaizumi, Aran || long-haired reader, fem!reader

Osamu

He sat on his daughter’s bed, brushing the little girl’s hair as she stands between his legs

“lil mochi, how ya wannit?” he calls her by the little nickname he assigned since her birth (he thought she looked like a small soft squishy mochi)

“like mama, please” the toddler replies, remembering the quick braid you wore as you dressed her up in the morning

her father lets out a chuckle, finding her politeness cute because she definitely didn’t get it from him (it was def from you)

“alrighty, comin right up” he separates her hair into three streaks, creating the hairstyle you taught him when you first started dating

in a quick fashion, the braid is neatly completed with a tied

“ya like it, mochi?” he places the end-tail on her small shoulder

she jumps, squealing out of delight. “Yes, papa!”

he crosses his arms, smiling out of content at his work

she hastily grabs his hand, catching him off guard

“cmon! we gotta show mama!”

ꕥ you were making some pancakes for breakfast when you hear ur family approach you from the different room. "Mm! Smells, good, hon" your husband speaks up, catching your attention. Your little girl follows him shouting.

“Momma! Lookit!” she twirls, showing her matching braid with yours. You smile, mouth parting in surprise.

“Wow, love. Aren’t you a pretty little thing!” you flip the last pancake onto the stack, before dusting your hands on the apron you wore and kneeling down to your daughter. She giggles as you tickle her face with kisses.

“Look at us, matching and all,” you say, pinching her cheek. Osamu watches you both with a warm smile on his face. He wants so badly to capture this moment in photo but instead he soaks it in as he leans against the kitchen stool, watching you both. His favorite girls.

Daichi

daichi sat on the living room floor, shuffling through a mini tote full of hairpins, finding one to adorn your little kid’s hair when the girl brings a hairclip from your bedroom

“daddy! how about this one?” she holds up the claw clip. “Mommy’s wearing one…and I wanna wear it too…” she says, shyly.

the clip was humongous, too large for her tiny head but Daichi laughs, agreeing to put it on.

“well alright, darling. Here, let daddy fix.” daichi motions her to the carpeted floor in front of his crossed legs.

she turns around, sitting calmly as he rolls her dark brown hair that matched his own, into a ball before attaching the hairclip on it.

Daichi pats his daughter’s shoulders, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “all done!”

the girl jumps up, giving her grinning father a quick “thanks!” before rushing to her mother who’s washing the dishes

ꕥ you hear the familiar pitter patter of your little one’s steps. “mommy! mommy! look!” the child squeals, bringing your attention. When you notice her hair put up in a ridiculously large clip, you laugh walking over to her after drying your wet hands on a towel.

“whatcha wearin, silly?” you ask as she twirls, showing off the new hairstyle. “daddy made it. so my hair can be like yours!” You giggle, smoothing over the hair that frames her face. “Well, daddy did a good job. Cuz it looks great on you, my pretty,” you coo. At that moment, your husband steps in. He must’ve been standing on the side for a while.

“Thanks. ‘Daddy’ worked hard,” the man says, with a smug look on his face, emphasizing the nickname you used. You send him a knowing look.

“Daddy, you’re silly! All you did was clip it on!” the child laughs, making you both break down in laughter. She was a bright one.

Akaashi

“up, up we go!” Akaashi grunts, lifting his grown toddler onto the stool to fix her hair

he starts a ponytail, when the youngster stops him with her words

“no, daddy!” she asserts. “can you make it like mommy’s hair?”

he laughs. “oh, right, right. I’ll try my best, sweetheart.”

remembering the messy top bun you effortlessly whipped in the morning, he smiles rolling his daughter’s hair into the same style

he uses a mini scrunchie to hold it all together, making her hair appear larger than it was

he hums, impressed by his own work

the toddler looks into the mirror, amazed.

“woah! you did it, daddy!” she squeals.

“I sure did, huh?” he makes little adjustments to her bun before kissing it gently.

ꕥ just then, you poke your head in the kid’s room. “Hey, my loves, breakfast is ready.” Akaashi turns to your voice, moving closer to you to place a peck on your lips.

“Hey,” he greets, even though you were just talking a couple minutes ago. “sweetie, wanna tell mo—” before he could finish his sentence the girl starts leaping.

“Yes! mommy! mommy!” the excited kid jumps toward you and you fully enter the room, kneeling down to her level. You gasp watching the new hairstyle she rocks.

“Baby, what’s this?” you ask the girl, gently touching her hair-bun.

“Does it look nice?” she asks, wanting your approval. She really looks up to you.

“Of course it does, baby,” you look into the blue orbs your husband gave her, giving a soft smile before placing a tender kiss on her exposed forehead. “You’re so so pretty.” You turn to Akaashi who’s now leaning against the door with a toothy grin. “Just like Daddy.” The comment makes him smirk and chuckle.

“Thank you, but I think mommy deserves some credit too, dont ya think?” The man bends down to his girl who’s looking over at her dad with a smile.

“I think mommy AND daddy are pretty!” the small girl hops up a little to place a peck on her dad’s cheek, and he picks her up. “You got that right,” you say, smiling at your dear family as you all start walking toward the dining room to eat.

Iwaizumi

Iwaizumi was watching the television, when suddenly his little daughter hopped onto his lap.

“yes, baby-girl?” he asks seeing her tug on the hem of his pajama shirt.

“can you braid my hair like mommy’s?” she whispers into his ear.

his lips curvs into a smile.

“alright, turn around.” he tells her, even though he’s already lifting the little one’s body with little effort.

“no, no, no,” she whispers. “don’t wanna show mommy, yet!” he laughs at her request, watching as she side-eyes you whistling in the kitchen as you happily make toast and bacon for your family.

“Oh, so you wanna surprise her?” he chuckles, moving quietly to the next room with the child in his arm. reaching the bedroom, he finally starts on the braid, something he learned from you.

“annnnnd there we go,” he huffs, before placing a kiss on the crown of your daughter’s head.

she squeals in excitement, playing with the end of her braid. “thank youuuuu.”

“shall we go show mommy?” he asks the dancing child. she nods.

ꕥ you continue to whistle your favorite tune, placing the last bacon into the plate. At that moment, you wear your daughter call to you. “Mommy~” she sing-songed. You pause your whistling and turn around.

“Hey, baby,” you greet her as she jumped into your arms. Iwaizumi leaned against the kitchen counter watching you both with a smile plastered on his face. It took you a few seconds to realize her new hairdo. “Huh, i was wondering what you two were up to,” you snicker, looking back up at the smirking Iwaizumi.

“You like it?” he asks. Your eyes move back to your daughter’s.

“I love!! What do you think, baby?” Her smile—which is scarily similar to her father’s—shows that she is very satisfied with the result.

“It’s nice! Like yours!” You chuckle, giving her a ticklish kiss on her face. The girl giggles, making Iwaizumi chuckle to himself as he watches you two. “My turn! My turn!” the girl says as you place her back down.

“Oh?” you raise an eyebrow, moving your face closer to the girl’s. She leans up to give you a peck on the cheek.

“Thank you,” you smile, standing back up.

“Okay, daddy’s turn!” she claps. Your eyes crease in amusement turning back to the man who is now grabbing mugs to make some coffee. He stops in his tracks, looking at his daughter with a soft smile.

“Gladly,” he lifts the girl giving her a kiss and blowing a raspberry on her skin, making her giggle. He then faces you with a cunning smile. “Haji, what’re you-” you start but is interrupted by his lips on your cheek, and then blowing a raspberry like he did to your daughter seconds ago. Your daughter cheers on the side, laughing at his actions and you couldn’t help but break into laughter by the ticklish feeling. Moments like these make you grateful to have these two in your life.

Aran

Aran was just done folding some of the unfolded laundry from the previous day when his daughter entered the room with pleading eyes.

“Hey, baby. Need something?” he asks the girl who climbed into his lap.

she points to her space-buns. “I want to match with mama.”

he recalls your high-ponytail braid

“Alright, babygirl,” he chuckles, placing a kiss on her forehead. “You don’t mind if I untangle these?” he ruffles the top of her hair. his daughter shakes her head.

“I like mama’s hairstyle more.”

“Okay, daddy’s got it,” aran says, unraveling her bunned up hair and combining it all together.

he takes a comb, smoothing over loose strands.

“mkay,” he muffles with a hair-tie between his teeth as he finishes the braid, securing the ends. “all done, sweetie.”

Aran watches with his hands now on his lap, satisfied with his work—as always—he’s no stranger when it comes to fixing his daughter’s hair

“thank you,” the young girl thanks gleefully, remembering the manners that you and Aran taught her. She smooths a hand over the tightly-knitted braid, mesmerized by her father’s skills.

“now,” the proud father stands, picking up his giggling child. “Let’s go get some breakfast, shall we?”

ꕥ as they walked into the dining room, you almost bump into them, about to call your family for the prepared food. “Oops!” you laugh, placing a hand over your husband’s arm. “Sorry, my loves.” You place a kiss on his cheek before doing the same to your daughter’s in his arms. Aran whispers a small ‘hey’ as you do. “I was gonna call y—” For a quick second, you pause, noticing the change in your daughter’s hairstyle. Aran grins, seeing your surprised reaction. “Baby!” Your eyes flicker to your daughter’s shy smile. She giggles, hiding her face in her father’s shoulder, feeling shy from your attentive eyes

“See? Mama likes it,” Aran encourages the flustered girl, sending you a knowing look. You mouth an ‘aw’, reaching for her and she turns around once she feels your hands lifting her body. Your husband hands her over to you.

“My baby is so pretty,” you coo as she finally looks to you, giggling. “Look at us.” You flip the matching ponytail braid you wore, flaunting it.

“Mama’s pretty,” the girl stares at your hairstyle, amazed by the length—compared to hers. “When I grow up, I want to be pretty like mama!” You respond by kissing her cheek.

“Oh you’ll be real pretty, believe me. Look at you now, beautiful.” Your compliment makes her confidence grow.

Aran looks at the both of you, amazed by the resemblance. You two are practically twins. He remembers your baby photos and always thought that his daughter was a carbon copy of little you. Except, of course, she has some of his genes, having his eyes, his personality, and charm. She is his most prideful work. Both of yours.

Your husband brings you both in a hug, peppering kisses on your foreheads. Please, please, my heart cant take this, is what he thinks as he’s bringing his girls close in his arms.

#SRRY THIS IS TOO EARLY AND TOO LATE TO POST #haikyuu mothers day #yes i said mothers day ik im a month late #haikyuu fathers day #haikyuu holidays #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #osamu x reader #daichi x reader #akaashi x reader #iwaizumi x reader #aran x reader #miya osamu x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #ojiro aran x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #haikyuu dads

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