Haikyuu Dads - Tumblr Posts
Dad!HQ x Valentine’s Day and White Day
Characters: Osamu, Bokuto, Sakusa
wc: 2k
special thanks to the I tried-🌱 server and especially @bokkunkai for helping me ramble out my ideas for this one! part 2 featuring akaashi and tsukki with teenage daughters coming soon!
It’s Valentine’s Day, and in the world of dad!Haikyuu…
Miya Osamu is cooking with his daughter in the morning. His little sous-chef is creating a masterpiece with his help – although, if doesn’t turn out as well as he usually makes it, he won’t be too upset. After all, his daughter has no one else to cook for, really, besides someone it Osamu’s immediate vicinity.
Sure, sometimes it’s for Akaashi-san or the MSBY team, but Osamu is always there. He will always eat her food and provide honest, positive feedback.
Hanako carefully packs everything into a bento box. The tamago is perfectly seasoned, if crookedly rolled. He’s helped her cut the little hotdogs into octopuses. The tangerine is arranged so the peeled slices form flower petals. The rice is shaped like little bear heads, and the kaarage is perfect (he’s already eaten one as a sample. He cooked that part, anyway, since Hanako is still too little to manage herself around that much oil).
She places both small hands on her hips, beaming proudly at her creation. “Thanks, Dad!”
Osamu closes the box for her, picking out a small piece of kaarage to eat right beforehand.
The indignant shout almost makes him drop his prize. Fumbling to keep the kaarage off the floor, he whirls around to face her. “Sweetie, what?”
With a pout that reminds him unfortunately of Atsumu, she says, “You can’t eat that, Dad. It’s not for you!”
“It’s… It’s not…?”
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If anyone told Sakusa Kiyoomi of Itachiyama Academy that he would ever be sitting in the grass making flower crowns, he’d immediately call them insane.
Yet here he is, less than 10 years out of his high school career, doing exactly that.
“Dad!” His concentration is broken by that voice he never fails to turn to. “Look what Mom made me!”
Your daughter is running toward him, you trailing behind. He holds his arms out for her, but she doesn’t crash into his chest as she is apt to do. Instead, she holds up a ring of flowers. “Look down!” She demands of her dad.
Omi smiles softly, lowering his head. His daughter crowns him with the flowers - crookedly, off-centered as hell, but with the most adorable smile showing off her dimples. Her curly pigtails make him smiler wider. She settles comfortably in his lap as you take a seat beside them.
If anyone had told him that he’d let a child with dirt all over her dress put a load of grass and flowers on his head, more than voluntarily, he wouldn’t have believed them. He’s come to learn that the mess is just part of being human, so it’s not such a big deal anymore.
Besides, this is his baby girl. Nothing can take that fact away from him.
If they had told him he’d marry someone like you, he would laugh in scorn.
But here, now? This is all he ever wants. Your hair flutters gently in the wind as he watches. You’re so beautiful. Even in the most mundane moments like this, he’s stunned by you.
“Give me your hand?” He fiddles one last time with the flowers in his hand. “I don’t have this specific skill set, so all you get is a ring.”
He starts sliding it on whichever finger will fit when your daughter pipes in: “Dad, you have to say, ‘Will you marry me?’”
Kiyoomi pauses and looks at her. “We’re already married, sweetie.”
“But you can’t put her ring on until you ask!”
Not one to ever deny his daughter’s wishes, Kiyoomi starts again. “____,” he says in a dramatic tone. Shakespearean and overdone, he asks once again, “Will you marry me?”
My entry for @augustinewrites’s Simple Pleasures collab! Chaos corner, this one’s for you 💝
Miya Osamu knows better than most that life is volatile and sometimes unkind - and more than often inopportune. He knows because he grew up with the embodiment of life, wearing a face that looked exactly like his.
At 7pm, standing in the doorway of your shared room, he can’t help but wonder when he met the other side of life; the side that was more like himself than Atsumu. Because life wasn’t always about crashing head-first into the worst decisions. Sometimes it was this:
Sometimes it was watching you cuddle your baby while he does the dishes and prepares the milk bottle. Sometimes it’s the quiet into which you speak promises to the Mini Miya you’ve created. Sometimes, it was complete wonder and awe at your messy ponytail and three-day-old T-shirt - and how it’s still one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen in his twenty-odd years of life.
Sometimes it was reveling in the fact that you existed.
You’ve saved his life more than once, he thinks. When no one else believed in Onigiri Miya, you did. When everyone else asked after Atsumu and never Osamu, you were the one whose lips always held his name.
Osamu. A name he used to resent. It was too often followed by “and Atsumu,” reminding him that he always coexisted with another half. Now, he doesn’t mind. It’s followed by “my dear,” “my love,” and the like.
Sometimes, life was laying next to you, waiting until the baby was burped and fed. Life was his baby on his chest, napping or curling her tiny, tiny fingers around his own. Life was you, pressed into his side, stroking the baby’s back and telling him your life story with a baby voice to entertain both members of your tiny family.
He doesn’t know how or when he got here. He doesn’t know what accident of the universe granted him this blessing - not that he’s complaining.
“Samu?”
He hums, glancing downward to see if Mini Miya was asleep yet.
“Thanks.”
“For what?” It can’t be the dishes. He does those all the time.
“For staying.”
Two words, but he knows what they mean to you. A lot. Because you didn’t trust easily, and too many people had given up before you were ready to hand them your heart. But not Miya Osamu. Miya Osamu was thankful to have you in his life in any capacity. He didn’t care how long you made him wait, because waiting was half the fun.
It was existence with you, either way, and that’s all he’s ever wanted. That’s all he ever hopes to do for the rest of his life.
“You can’t get rid of me,” he murmurs. “Ever.”
You’re Safe | Sakusa Kiyoomi
Pairing: Kiyoomi X Reader (female)
Genre: MAFIA!AU, dad and husbando tehe, fluffy, action? thriller??
Author’s Note: mafia 🤝 protective 🤝 domestic father figure 🤝 SAKUSA
Warnings: k*lling, blood, vivid imagery, LONG, language
gif from @rivaillerose 🖤
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