rintaro doesn’t look up from his phone as kaiya bothers him, tugging on his shirt and prodding his arm to try and stir him from his comfort in bed next to you. you snicker and watch fondly at your 10 year old’s attempts to rouse her father, to seemingly no avail.
“dad, i need you to come see,” she whines. “it’s really important-“
“no,” rintaro is quick to answer. “no. no no.”
“why not!” she huffs.
“because-“ he finally spares kaiya a glance, “every time one of you rat children come in here to get me up to kill a spider, or see the moon, or check for monsters, you sneak into my bed and take my spot next to mom. i deserve some mom time too, yanno.”
kaiya groans as she tugs his wrist, “daaaaaad, its serious!”
“what is it?”
she pouts at him, flashing him a lethal set of puppy eyes akin to yours. he sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, “if i entertain this, and you steal my spot, so help me god-“
“i won’t,” she says softly. “please?”
rintaro sighs.
he swings his legs out of bed and ushers kaiya to lead the way, “go on then. let’s go.” he follows her closer to the doorway, and you raise your brows in surprise as she actually brings her dad to the doorway.
only to then cackle when she darts to your bed, trying to get under the covers.
“YOU LITTLE-“
“i want to cuddle with mommmmm!”
“SO DO I!”
kaiya squeals as rintaro grabs her ankle and drags her to the edge of the bed, picking her up into his arms while she flails and screams in protest. you hear him ranting in the hallway over kaiya’s whines and giggles to be put down, “you damn kids, you’re lucky i don’t call uncle shinsuke to straighten your asses out. you wake up your sisters i swear to all the unholy gods-“
you shake your head and turn back to the tv-
only to smile fondly as a familiar face pokes his head from the doorway.
akito is quick to rush into rintaro’s warm spot, smiling in content as you open your arm for him to cuddle into your side. you kiss his head and scratch his scalp, letting him melt against you.
“you know he’s gonna have a conniption,” you hum.
“he should know better than to leave his spot unattended.”
you snort and let him cuddle closer, “my baby boy, what am i gonna do with you?”
“uhm, give me all your attention?”
“you always have my attention-“
“you’re joking.” rintaro stands in the doorway in disbelief, and you hear akito snicker in satisfaction. “you little freak.”
“it’s mom-akito time, back off,” your son says, clinging to you closer.
“you know, there was a time when you liked me the best,” your husband hisses.
“i don’t miss those days,” you titter. rintaro glares playfully.
“those days are gone, father. mom is mom.”
once again, rintaro scrubs his face with his hands, “i’m not dealing with this, i’m sleeping on the couch.” he turns on his heel to stalk down the hallway; you hear akito sigh and stir slightly.
“dad, wait,” he says. rintaro pauses and turns back to his bedroom, blinking unamused at his son. “don’t forget your pillow,” he reminds, tossing the fluffed pillow at his father.
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a/n: dude i need more dad!au's for bllk characters. ALSO YAY FOR ME FINISHING THE SUMMER HW I ONLY FOUND OUT ABOUT YESTERDAY LMAOAOOAOA
summary: sae itoshi, to most of the world, is the picture of nonchalance, composure, and seriousness. to his daughter, though? not at all. to her, he's her pretty princess.
"no. we had an agreement, and we're not going to break it-"
"but pretty please, dada?" your 4 year old daughter whined, glancing up at sae with those wide, puppy eyes of hers that she'd perfected over the years. and very unforunately for him, sae was a weak man when presented with those eyes.
the sight was honestly hilarious — japan's very own genius midfielder sitting criss crossed on the living room floor, his teal eyes crying out to you for help and his crimson hair done beautifully. 'done' meaning half brushed in some parts, completely messy in other parts, and decorated with as many clips and hair ties as your entire house had to offer.
that was the incredible result of a 4 year old girl, her father, a hairbrush, and a whole hour where she had the freedom to do whatever she wanted to said father's hair. yes, she'd somehow convinced the sae itoshi into an agreement that gave her an hour of "make daddy into a princess" time, with sae gaining... absolutely nothing in exchange.
that was how most deals went in your household. the same man who practically had the jfa at his feet, willing to do anything for him, was making rather one sided deals with a very opinionated little girl and not complaining about it at all.
you watched in amusement as your husband, clearly trying — and failing — to resist his daughter's attempts at emotional manipulation, huffed softly and propped her back onto his lap.
"...fine. but this is the final 10 minutes, okay? final, you got that?"
all the poor man got in response was a series of giggles and gentle tugs on his soft, crimson locks as she attempted to stick yet another bright pink clip onto a bundle of hair.
"look, dada! the clip is pink... and your hair is pink!"
and though he'd never admit it, sae instinctively softened at that, just as he did every time his little girl said or did anything.
"does it look nice?" he asked softly, almost nervously, so unlike the persona he put on for the rest of the world.
"very nice! my daddy's super pretty! just like a princess!"
"really? a princess?" his tips of his ears were as pink as the clips in his hair. and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't the most adorable thing you'd seen.
"mhmm! my pretty princess," your daughter declared before suddenly gasping. "what if i do your m-may.... make..."
"makeup?"
"yes! makeup!" she was practically vibrating with excitement now, still on sae's lap. "can i use mama's makeup on you, dada? pleeeaasse?"
sae glanced at you, eyes desperately begging for you to say no, but this was too much fun.
"of course, sweetheart. you know where the bag is, right?" you confirmed, smiling warmly at both your daughter and husband. "make sure you're careful though, okay? can you promise that?"
and after a series of rapid nods and frantic footsteps towards your bedroom, the 4 year old was back and armed with your makeup pouch.
let's just say that the initial promise of just 10 final minutes was long broken. and that by the time the ball of mischief was tucked in, still smiling to herself as she hugged her little stuffed animal, sae had a full face of makeup he needed to take off.
so right there in your bathroom, holding a bottle of makeup remover and a cotton pad, he finally glanced at you, trying oh so hard to look unimpressed, despite the blush — his real one, not just the makeup — giving him away.
"not. a. word," he muttered as you fought the laughs threatening to spill out of your tightly pressed lips.
"but... you're my pretty princess, baby," you cooed, quoting your daughter's exact words.
and the look of complete concern that passed onto his face was comical.
"...tch." was his only response, and honestly, that revealed that he was not, in fact, bothered at all.
2006, the year of Play station 3, Hannah Montana, Britney Spears filling the clubs and your unexpected pregnancy with Patrick Zweig. It happens so quickly, you barely remember any of it; one moment you're tagging along your best friend at the US Open, the next one, you're hidden in a random bathroom and clutching onto the tennis boy's blue polo. Few weeks later, you're prying his number from Tashi's phone and sending him a blurry picture of your positive pregnancy test.
Patrick ignores you for two long weeks, not texting you back even after the twenty six calls you leave in desperation. When he finally answers, he denies any connection to the image and proceeds to call you a slut before hanging up, so you're left to try and reach out for another three weeks. When you finally break the news to your parents and book a doctor's appointment, where the suspicion unfortunately gets confirmed, you snap Patrick a picture of the black and white ultrasound photo you were given. He's at your door the next morning.
Things get set in motion and the two move into a flat in the city, one that is close enough so your parents are available if you ever need them. But Patrick, being too afraid of your father, assures them he's gonna give you the same treatment a princess deserves. Being the rich kid, the rising tennis star, he fills your new home with everything times two, as if that could substitute the lack of experience the two of you have, as you're both mentally still children.
He's there for your next appointment, palms sweating when he gets a peek at the little bean that slowly grows in your stomach. Is it already that big? Wait, is it a girl or a boy? That's when it hits you both that there is a whole new human growing inside of you, someone so vulnerable who will be absolutely dependent on you. Someone, who the two of you will have to give hundred and twenty percent of your time, care and attention to. There's no way the two of you will be able to do that, at this age.
When the day finally comes, both of you are a goddamn mess. You're sobbing, holding onto Patrick and unable to bear all the ache that your body absolutely wasn't prepared for, and Patrick is panicking, refusing to let you out of sight even though he shouldn't even care for you that much. The two of you are not even dating. He should only care for the child, not you. Then why is his heart breaking every time he hears you cry?
He swears you have never looked more beautiful before than right now, with your cheeks read and hair tossed into a messy ponytail, completely out of breath and clutching your new born babygirl to your naked chest. He almost faints right here and there, unable to accept the truth.
The first few weeks at home are a walk through hell, filled with constant high pitched cries, sweat and tears of your own. The two of you barely get any sleep and your whole body hurts, there's no time to be dedicated to getting to know the father of your baby better that you could actually consider building a relationship with him. You both sleep in separate beds in separate rooms, each one of you trying to get as much comfort as possible when the little one's asleep.
If it's not the baby crying, Patrick is awoken by your sobs, as you deem the night time the only possible opportunity to let your feelings flow freely. You're in pain, you're tired, you're fucking miserable. And you can't help yourself but hate the little human who has changed your life forever. And for worse.
Your depressed state is what finally gets Patrick to be responsible, to push through everything that was holding him back and google how the fuck to take care of an actual baby. He manages to clean the place somehow, at least partially, and make it look a bit predentable (not that there is anyone visiting the two of you, besides your parents once or twice a week) and makes it his task to wash the baby and change her diapers. Now he just has to squeeze you in between all his responsibilities. He should be taking care of you as well.
Patrick finds it funny when you get all bashful while breastfeeding the baby, trying to cover yourself from his sight, as if he hasn't literally seen you give birth. If only you knew how beautiful Patrick finds you, how he has to hold back from reaching out and caressing any part of your body that is still so filled and plump. He never brings the fact that he has heard you cry so often, fearing that it would send you back into something deeper. He knows how you (don't) handle embarrassment.
It's rare for you to get out of bed for anything other that the basic hygiene and breastfeeding, but after almost two months, you finally manage to contribute to the living arrangement. Even though you barely speak - to both Patrick and the baby - you're working, and that's good. Partially. The more time passes, the harder it hits you that this really is forever, that this little human with light freckles on her chubby cheeks will be dependent on you for the rest of her and your lives, and there is no way this cycle could ever be broken.
You do break down in Patrick's arms once, after a particularly tough day when the little one couldn't stop crying and your head felt like a hot air balloon that might explode. Everything just crumbles down and instead of yelling at you, instead of pushing you away and telling you to suck it up, Patrick just holds you like you're the most precious thing in this world - like you're his girls - and tells you that everything will be okay. He spends fourty fucking minutes repeating the same phrase; you'll be okay, you'll be okay, you'll be okay. You have to be okay.
The two of you don't speak about that encounter, especially after you wake up in Patrick's room, in Patrick's bed, in Patrick's arms. And you're back to being silent. Somehow, things seem to have improved, at least partially. You have split the work in half; Patrick changes the diapers and baths the little one while you cook and breastfeed. Play time includes the two of you sitting in a carpet in the living room, offering your baby any of the toys you've both and making stupid sounds to entertain her.
Somehow, Patrick slowly transforms into a gentleman - if he could be called one, for not even a twenty year old - and really does his best to overcome whatever barriers are there between the two of you. He does not only attend to the baby but to you as well, offering to wash your hair or massage your back. The first time he touches you - the actual very first time his hands are properly on your body since the night you magically conceived - everything feels so different. Patrick is suddenly gentle, tenderly sliding his palms over your bare back and digging his thumbs into the dimples above the waistband of your sweatpants. Each grunt that leaves your lips goes straight to his core, filling him with something warm and unknown.
Almost automatically, you begin sleeping in Patrick's bed (argumenting that it's comfier than your own) and it's clear that the effect it has on you has been more than needed. When you find yourself surrounded by muscular arms every morning, it messes with your brain in a way that's difficult to describe. Usually, it's a mix of appreciation for being cared for so tenderly and fear that all of it was just a dream.
One day, it couldn't be past four in the morning, the two of you are awoken by the little one's cries, Patrick tells you to sleep, baby, I'll handle it and presses a kiss to your cheek before slipping out of the bed to tend to the baby's needs. It's safe to say you have trouble falling asleep after that.
These displays of affection turn into something automatic, much to your surprise. Never ever would you expect Patrick to act like a pretty decent father and an attentive romantic partner (not that you're in that kind of relationship at the moment), but slowly but surely, this whole thing is turning into something which could resemble a family. You're still a bit reserved though, at least compared to Patrick who's aware that his daughter need a functional family and is slowly falling in love with you.
Finally, he is able to muster enough courage and ask you out on a date. A proper fucking one. At first, he's tempted to hide it behind the two of you just need to get a breath of fresh air when your parents offer to babysit, but he's unable to hide his intention. He really fucking wants you. So the two of you go for some fancy dinner, then a walk through the local park where Patrick really wants to kiss you, but he doesn't dare to. When you come home, with your baby fast asleep in her small room, it's hard to resist each other and you end up naked in your shared bed.
Post sex clarity hits you the following morning and things go back to awkward, bouncing between wholesome moments of the two of you getting somewhat physical and then both of you ignoring each other for unusually long periods of time. It seems that both of you are equally as afraid to move it to another level. But Patrick can't stop wanting you.
Unfortunately, tennis enters the equation and begins wanting Patrick before you could, as the season is approaching once again. In the words of his agent, Patrick still has the potential to be one of the most seen faces despite spending the last half a year not playing the sport at all. He is torn between pursuing his career, something he's been working to master ever since he was able to walk and hold a racket, and possibly throwing it all away for the two people that entered his life so suddenly. And since it is Patrick Zweig we're talking about, he chooses the first option.
It doesn't take a single week that he gets back into the routine for the whole household to collapse completely. Coming back late in the evenings, he's a witness to your broken self, messy place and his crying baby daughter. There's no way this could possibly go on without you turning crazy in a few weeks, so Patrick decides to abruptly change his decision. He's sitting this season out, even if it means he has to quiz tennis. He couldn't bear watching the mother of his child turn into a lifeless ghost and become unable to take care of their baby.
So from now on, it's not Patrick Zweig, a professional tennis player, has transformed into Patrick Zweig, a full time dad. Stay at home dad, shopping for groceries dad, bathe his babygirl dad, care for the mother of his child dad. This is what Patrick is, this is what his life has been upgraded to and, honestly, he wouldn't have it any other way.
"We're going to daddy's work!" the kids sing on the back part of your familiar car as you keep driving through the busy Tokyo streets, searching for the Japan Volleyball Association's offices building. You debated with Tetsuro yesterday about if it was a good idea to bring the kids on the "take our children to work" day on his office. They're little, and especially frets, restless and rascals. Tetsuro's position on the association is way too important to have two tiny kids running around his office, but still, he was excited for today - even more than the kids. - since it's the first time they're celebrating this kind of day.
A call enters on the free hands of the car, your older son getting to read the name on the little screen before sharing what he saw with his sister. "Is dad, is dad!" You answer the call hearing your children's whispers behind.
"Love?" Tetsuro's voice sounds around the car, making you smile softly. "Did you find the office?" he asks. You take a quick look to the signals in front of you, unable to find anything that gives you a clue about your husband's workplace.
"I think we're lost." you admit. Tetsuro laughs softly. You used to drop by his office when you didn't had the kids and your way of moving around was walking. Your first work used to be pretty near to his, but getting to it by foot from the subway stop was way easier than getting there by car. Taking the right lanes, the right positions on traffic lights and avoiding passing the intersection.
"We're near a sports center." You keep explaining him what you can see, as he gets an idea of where you are, getting the exact point shortly after. He guides you through your phone, helping you to get the right directions and keeping a background conversation with your kids. Once you arrive to the building, a well-dressed Tetsuro is waiting outside, phone on his ear and all his height escaping from the sun under a tree. He waves your hands towards the car as soon as he sees you, making your children shout with happiness while you park. Tetsuro opens their car door once you shut off the engine, taking your soon to the pavement and unbuckling your daughter's chair straps, carefully taking her out of the car. He looks at both of them before his cheeks blush.
"They insisted to use this." You say, smiling, as you walk around the car to stand next to him. The kids smile showing their t-shirts, both having their surname on their backs and the characteristic color of his dad's volley equipment. Tetsuro's eyes scan softly his children, and a subtle shine appears on his eyes. Taking your phone, you kiss his cheek before pushing him softly towards them.
"Go, go. I'll take a pic of the three of you."
Tetsuro takes your face on his habds before pecking your lips sweetly, leaving towards your kids with big steps and keeling berween both of them. Your daughter gets her little arma tangled around his neck and your son sits on his knee. The three of them smile while you take the pic, smiling to yourself, feeling way too lucky to be part of this family. Tersuro stands up and calls you. "Come, we'll take a pic." You follow your husband's voice and, giving the phone to him, you take your youngest between your arms. Tetsuro picks up your older soon while he tries to get the four of you on the frame, clicking the camera button when all of you smile. "Done!" looking at the clock on his wrist, he sighs. "I'm sorry, love, but we have to go back inside. My break is over."
You kneel near your kids, arranging their backpacks and their clothes, and whispering softly some instructions.
"Don't bother daddy when he's talking with other people, and ask nicely for things. Don't leave his office without him and don't paint on papers you didn't ask for. Have a good day and make sure dad eats all his meal!"
The children laugh and hug you, giving kisses to your cheeks and assuring they will be good at dad's work.
Standing up, Tetsuro gets close to you, tangling his arms on your waist and kissing your lips. "Take care of them, and if you need anything..
"
"Call." he finishes, against your lips again. He gives a new kiss to you, before letting you go sadly. "I'll see you in a few hours." He parts sweetly before reuniting with his kids again.
He takes the children's hands on his own, walking with them towards the office, and you can't help but take a pic of the three, holding hands, giving their back to you and talking while they disappear inside the building. Your new wallpaper welcomes you when your phone gets a notification from Tetsu.
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genre: post timeskip! au, fluff, angst, slight smut every now and then, ex to lovers?
Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi was your everything. You were Sakusa Kiyoomi’s everything as well. You were so madly in love with him, just as he was with you. But when you find out that you’re pregnant, does the way Sakusa think about you change negatively or positively? Well, it changed, negatively. Now you’re a single parent. You both were end game. Or so you had thought.
NOTE: this was made over 4+ years ago when i was a beginner writer so the writing is pretty much horrible. but im feel nostalgic and this has been sitting for the drafts for years that i thought, why not post? anways pls enjoy my very mediocre attempt at writing. there’s multiple parts so ill post until there are none anymore.
A/N: Hey ya’ll! this is a fatherhood series? I don’t know if that’s what it’s called lol. Just know Sakusa is a father. I hope people like this story! Uncle Kema = Kenma, Uncle Kaashi = Akaashi, and Shima = Tsukishima by the way. this is just how Kimi pronounces their names.
flopped onto the couch, you hear kenma groan at the interruption, face burying deeper into the cushions. kenma doesn’t get much sleep when maesi is around. spending his nights streaming and his days in business meetings and marketing strategies run him fairly dry, and your poor husband can’t always catch the breaks he needs and deserves.
and judging by the way maesi is patting his shoulder, it seems that the struggle will continue.
“maesi,” you say softly. “what is it?”
“dadda,” she ignores you. “apple.”
“what about the apple, sweetheart?” you ask, reaching your hand out to try and find the source of the problem. “would you like it cut up?”
“no,” your two year old denies, continuing to tap kenma on the arm. “dadda dood it.”
“no, mumma will do it-“
“what do you need daddy to do?” kenma asks, yawning softly. maesi squeals excitedly and stomps her tiny feet, the slippers she’s wearing muffling some of the joy she’s experiencing. he turns his head, blinking sleepily at his child before smiling softly at her zealousness. “what’s up, muffin?”
“dadda,” she repeats. “dadda, noisinus.”
kenma buries his face into the cushions and lets out a string of laughter, shoulders shaking as he understands what his child is asking for. a weak hand extends out for the apple, fingers beckoning for it. maesi giggles and passes her father the apple, both of them not even a little phased by your confusion.
kenma takes a bite of the apple, the soft crunch of his teeth sinking into the fruit making your head tip in intrigue. he’s not cutting it for her?
kenma chews for a moment, looking up to the sky in thought before passing the apple back to his daughter, “not poisonous.”
you snort and shake your head softly.
“tanks, dadda!” she says, tiny feet toddling to the other corner of the room, filled with toys and books for her to keep occupied with.
you plop yourself onto the couch next to kenma, laughing softly as he creeps his way into your lap. “poison?”
“you remember when i stole a bite of her lunch and she got mad at me?”
“yeah?”
“well-“ kenma yawns softly before smacking his lips. “i told her i had to make sure it wasn’t poisonous. now, before she eats anything, she makes me take a bite.”
you shake your head, “so everything she eats, you take a bite of?”
“except her mini muffins,” he chimes. “she’s too protective over those.”
THE GIRL DAD HCs IM SO SIXJEJXJSXNSH PLEASE CAN I REQ A PART TWO WITH KAGEYAMA AND ATSUMU 🥹🥹🥹🥹 (I think Hinata would work super well too big sun and little sun WAAAH or osamu and his little girl in the kitchen or counter watching him cook with a little apron and chef hat of her own AWHGH)
The way you wrote ushijima too OUHHHH IM KICKING MY FEET SO BADDD HES SOOOOO IM WAILING
𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 (𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐲/𝐧)
a/n: ARGHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCHCHCHCHCH
I LOVE UR IDEAS SO MUCH IM JS GONNA CASUALLY USE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM UGH I LOVE THIS SOSOSOOS MUCH THANK U FOR SENDING THIS IN!!!!!
summary: how more hq characters characters would act with a daughter!
tobio kageyama:
when this guy first became a dad, he had absolutely no idea what to do. and the poor guy was terrified.
"...is she supposed to be sleeping this much?" he'd ask you, unsure about why your newborn was asleep almost the entirety of the day. and every time, you'd simply sigh and smile softly in response. "yes, love, she is. she's all good, i promise you."
but at the same time, he does his very best to be there for the both of you, even if it means having to read tons of books about infants and babies and parenting.
during press conferences and after matches, he prefers not to have your daughter in front of all the crowds because he's scared of overwhelming her with all the reporters, cameras, and sounds.
however, you and her are almost always at his games, supporting from the sides, with your daughter wearing her favorite pink noise cancelling headphones as she watched.
every time tobio appeared on the big screen, she'd always giggle, look up at you, and proudly exclaim, "look, look, that's dada!" before frowning slightly in confusion and asking, "mama, why he so big?"
even though tobio prefers being more private with his family and personal life, there are marks of his daughter everywhere if one looked hard enough.
for example, once, your daughter had drawn little hearts all over his white volleyball shoes (the very pair he was going to use for a match that evening), and he'd just worn them. he'd looked once at the design, frowned for a moment, nodded, and wore them without a care in the world.
another time, his warm up bag had a small brown bear keychain attached to it. the keychain absolutely did not belong to him. and everyone noticed that.
finally, before each game that you and your daughter couldn't watch in person, tobio had a tradition of just looking at his lockscreen, which was a photo of you and your daughter. if he didn't do that, he really couldn't play his best. he always needed to be reminded of the 2 girls that he did everything for.
as your daughter grew up, she quickly adopted her dad's love for volleyball, and soon enough, even though she was still a little too young to properly play, you would watch your husband and daughter spend their weekends rewatching game footage.
your daughter would be on tobio's lap, fully invested in watching one of tobio's past matches currently being displayed on the tv.
"..okay, if you look here, does it look like he'll hit a line or cross shot here?" he asked, pausing the game to show a hitter's approach.
"line, right?"
and the slightly awkward but incredibly proud grin he gave her as a response reminded you exactly why you loved being a parent alongside tobio.
atsumu miya:
atsumu loves physical touch and loves carrying his little girl everywhere. after all, what's the point of working out and training his body if not to be able to carry his daughter around whenever?
he has a grudge against strollers and baby carriers because he needs to be the one holding his daughter, not some metal and plastic with wheels.
very unfortunately for you, your daughter has also began to prefer her dad's arms to any other form of transportation. so when you had to bring her somewhere on your own, she would have issues against her stroller.
"no, me want dada. dada carry me. can you carry me, mama? pretty please?" she'd plead stubbornly, a pout on her lips and her arms raised up in the universal toddler symbol for 'pick me up right now'.
see, you weren't weak, and you also loved carrying your daughter! but you did not have the stamina or physical capacities of the professional volleyball player that was your husband.
it genuinely amazed you how long he could carry her sometimes. you'd be out on a walk in the park, and she'd be happily perched on his shoulders, enjoying the view from such a high angle.
"dada, i'm sooo tall!" "yes, ya are, darling. so much taller than little old me." she giggled, tugging on his hair. "oops, not so hard on the hair, princess." and she immediately obeyed, loosening her hold. "sorry, dada. are you okay?" he chuckled, glancing up at her. "mhmm. don't worry 'bout me. but play gentle, mkay?"
when it came to volleyball, he would constantly show her off to the public, and she loved the attention. at press conferences, she'd be on his lap and tap him on the shoulder urgently, saying, "dada, look, there's a camera! say cheese!"
and of course, he'd immediately look towards where she'd be pointing, grinning at the camera for a quick photo. he'd plant a soft kiss onto the top of her head before continuing to answer questions.
speaking of answering questions, he loves when reporters ask about you or his daughter. his eyes truly light up at the opportunity to talk about his favorite people in the world.
"how i balance personal life with my volleyball career? well, i mean, i don't like thinkin' of them as two different things; to me, my wife and daughter are a part of everythin' i do. they're the best things to ever happen to me, and 'm so grateful for them. yeah, i love volleyball, but they're the ones who motivate me to even get up in the mornin'. i wouldn't be where i am at all without them."
shoyo hinata:
his daughter is literally just a mini version of him. your genes didn't even try.
think tiny orange curls and the warmest brown eyes. you looked at baby pictures of your husband the other day, and they looked identical to your daughter now.
but the similarities didn't stop with just appearances. your daughter is the most extroverted, friendly, sunshine personified girl ever, and it's not even a question.
if you're walking out on the street, she's waving at anyone and everyone.
"good morning, mister!"
"hello, miss! you look very boo-tee-ful today!"
"mama, look at the puppy! puppy, can we be friends, please?"
she has the biggest heart as well, caring about the tiniest things. once, she saw a neighbor's dog sleeping on the lawn, and she grabbed some leaves to put over the paw that was ever so slightly uncovered and in the sun.
and she immediately ran back into your house, found shoyo, completely wrapped her little arms around his leg, and grinned up at him, clearly proud of herself. "dada, i helped a doggy! his paw was... was in the sun, but i put leaves! so his paw won't get hot!"
and shoyo immediately grinned right back at her, carrying her onto his lap. "really? that's so kind of you, sweetheart! the doggy will definitely appreciate that."
she looked so happy to be receiving his praise, just as shoyo was once, eager to receive praise and recognition from just about anyone.
your daughter also took shoyo's love for the beach. those few years playing beach volleyball in brazil made him love it, but practically as soon as your daughter was out of the womb, she was already playing with sand and giggling while watching waves crash against the shore.
this meant that your family visited the beach a lot, and every time, you'd just sit back and watch your husband and daughter look for crabs, build sandcastles, and laugh every few seconds in that same bright, bubbly way.
when it came to the public, shoyo was super proud of his daughter. she'd join for press conferences, even getting to answer questions directed to her.
"miss hinata, what do you think about how your daddy played today?" a reporter asked once, attempting to act fully serious despite the amusement evident in his eyes.
your daughter hummed, pretending to be deep in thought. "very well! my dada's the best!" she finally exclaimed, but of course, she had to end with a compliment. "thank you for the question, mister reporter!"
by the end of the conference, reporters would come up to you on the side and talk about your daughter nonstop.
"she's like a walking ray of sunshine! how'd you and shoyo get her to be like that?"
"thank you. shoyo and i did our best to raise her, but the whole ray of sunshine thing? she got it all from her dad."
osamu miya:
for osamu, there were many things that came with having a daughter: competition, free marketing, and a new sous chef.
first off, the second your daughter could crawl on her own, atsumu had already invited himself over, challenging osamu to see who she loved more.
so the two of them stood on opposite ends of the room, and you gently placed your daughter on the floor right in the middle of the two of them.
osamu won. easily.
they tried again. and again. and again.
but as much as your daughter loved her uncle, she was a daddy's girl for life. and so, atsumu stood no chance at all.
some other inarizaki alumni tried too, and they all lost. so the competition aspect was very, very fun for osamu.
the free marketing aspect was cool as well. it all started when your daughter had randomly put on his far too big 'onigiri miya' hat. he'd taken a picture and posted it casually on the restaurant's social media, not expecting much of it.
next thing he knew, his notifications were blowing up as the public went insane over that picture.
looking back, it absolutely made sense. a baby toddler perched on a kitchen counter, grinning ear to ear as she wore a hat that almost completely covered her eyes? of course it caught people's attention.
after that, whenever you and your daughter were available, he'd get the two of you to sit at a table very strategically placed right by the window to the restaurant. you thought it ridiculous at first, but after seeing family after family point, smile, and end up eating a meal at the restaurant, you realized just how effective it was.
but osamu quickly realized that his little girl was even better in the kitchen.
the first time, it had happened completely accidentally. she'd just wandered into the kitchen, tugged gently on osamu's apron, and asked, "can i help you, dada?"
and well, who was he to say no to that?
so the next hour was spent teaching her to mix sauces together, sprinkle salt and pepper, and of course, taste test.
your little girl was so focused the whole time, clearly delighted to be helping her dad out with his job. and osamu loved it all even more.
the next few days, however, this became a whole routine. your daughter was such a fast learner, and she remembered every detail of the instructions given to her.
at some point, she even started asking for an apron and chef hat of her own, and osamu immediately replied, "anythin' for the best chef of the house."
so yes, the benefits that came with having a daughter were pretty cool. but the best part by far was his daughter herself. the other perks didn't even come close to his little girl who he'd give anything for.
