#dad!osamu

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."

The bribe isn’t enough to warrant Osamu’s attention. The babe decides to play with the collar of your apron instead or accidentally pull at the tresses that line your neck. Anything but his father.

“It’s okay,” You murmur in mini Osamu’s ear. “I can still get you ice cream.”

You begin moving towards the gallons and holding onto the chub on his abdomen. Osamu follows from the other side.

“You really don’t gotta do all that.”

“I really think I do.” You give him a pointed glare before turning your attention back to his son. “Had I known your dad was hiding you he would have never been my favorite customer!”

You sneak a glance at Osamu who bears a fond expression.

“Gotta make it up to you,” You press your nose against his cheeks. It takes all of you not to bite the rosy nibbles of joy as he screeches from laughter. “Since you’re my new fave after all. So what do you like?”

“He’ll have the—“

You shush Osamu, even casting him a faux irritated look and making way for his son to choose. “Excuse me, please do not talk over our customers. We’ll serve you in just a second, sir.”

Osamu shuts right up as his son takes the stage. The hand that’s not carrying him presses against his back, pulling him closer to you as you lean over the glass, walking slowly to allow him to choose his options.

“Bab bab!” Mini Osamu points. Spit litters along the glass but you know what, that’s okay. It’s cuter when one year olds do it. Adults are a different story.

“Matcha?” Your eyebrow quirks to Osamu. “Just like your dad. A man of exquisite taste.”

Holding a child makes your job harder to do, but you manage. A scoop of matcha in one cup, and adzuki bean in another, Osamu’s usual go to. When you finally meet Osamu at the register, his kid has had enough adventure with a stranger for the day, arms reaching out for his father.

“Can I have a scoop of strawberry?” Osamu whispers in your ear in the middle of the exchange. “Kid’s definitely not gonna eat matcha.”

“Of course.” You laugh. There’s a twinkle in Osamu’s eye, but you swallow the hope it brings quickly. Now that you know he has a kid, one that looks very much like him, your fantasies must be put to a stop. He has a partner waiting for him back home. Despite him being a regular customer you’d see every so often, you really thought you and Osamu were becoming friends. He’d come in short to closing and wait for you outside of the patio. Hours long of talk but never had he mentioned a child or a lover.

“Do you have time to come out and join us?” Osamu nods his head towards the outdoor seating. For the first time, you’re about to say no, but the owner answers for you.

“Yes, they have time!”

She’s ushering you out quickly and you curse at her kindness. Ever since Osamu’s first entrance, the couple that owns the shop have shipped you with the handsome restaurant owner. Before you might have felt bad taking their kindness for granted, scrambling off the floor at the sight of the broad backed man. Now though, you really wish they weren’t so nosy.

You situate yourself at the usual table in the back right corner of the patio. It’s where you got to know of Osamu, the guy who owns the onigiri restaurant one street down. At first you were fascinated by meeting him and the glamour of his job. He works on the main road where most of the traffic is while your ice cream parlor resided on a backstreet. But the more you spoke with him, the more his brightness dulled. Instead of a hot, luminous star, you realized he’s more of a tame desk lamp. He is warm, reliable, and approachable. He is a man of simple dreams whose actions show with magnanimous results. It was that obtainable and easy comfort that had you falling for him in the dimness of the night.

Today he visits during the day and suddenly, he feels like the sun. Warm, inescapable, and the center of the universe. How does he do it all? How is he a dad, running a business, and above all, a good man?

Mini Osamu’s joyous laughter cuts through the tension and you and Osamu both share in his happiness. Hands clapping against the table, you take a small spoonful of matcha and place it along the babe’s lips. It melts and stains pink plush with a greenish hue. You both watch at bated breath for a reaction. There it is. A nose scrunch, a whine, and a fervent shake of the head that is only placated by the taste of strawberry ice cream.

“He really likes you.” Osamu observes, eyes on his son.

“Bums me out that you never even mentioned him. I’ve missed out on a friend for this long.” It’s a halfhearted joke but you really are bummed. You wish he had said something so you wouldn’t have had this misplaced hope for so long.

“Yeah, sorry I never did.”

“How come? I wouldn’t have judged you.”

“Not everyone wants to befriend a single dad.” Osamu slides a large palm atop his son’s head, smoothing the pieces that stick up. “And a business owner? I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“You’re a single dad?”

Osamu’s gaze falls on you, curious. “Yeah?”

“Like single single?”

The smile that Osamu’s been holding breeches across his lips. “Yeah?”

“You’re so funny!” Mini Osamu shrieks in time with your unbridled laughter. “The only way you could scare me away is if you had a partner! Oh I can’t wait to tell the owners you’re single!”

Osamu’s eyes flash into the parlor in shock. “They’re a married couple. One of them is into me?”

You nod. “They’re into you. Being into me.”

There’s a pause, taking a glance at his son, then him. And you take account of your own feelings and how this feels just right. “Tell me I’m not reading into this wrong.”

“You’re not.”

“How was your day, my sweet?” you ask, poking your daughter’s chubby, mochi-like cheeks.

She whines and scrunches her nose, “It was fine, daddy says tomorrow is a special day,” she whispers the last part to you.

“What is it mommy?”

You glance at your husband and shake your head at his sly smile.

“It’s your birthday, Yumu,” you tell her, leading her to one of the tables when Osamu sets her down.

“I’m heading to man the counter,” he tells you, knowing you’d be busy now with making dinner, and ensuring that any homework was done and ready for the next school day.

“What’s burfday?” Ayumu stumbles over the word, and looks at you with wide, curious eyes.

Your heart soars at how sweet and innocent your chubby-cheeked baby girl is. You detangle any knots in her hair gently with your fingers before answering her question.

“Mhm...it’s a very special day,” you tell her, in the simplest term that a child of her age would understand. “It’s a special day just for you, Yumu,” you grin and kiss her cheek.

Concern flares up in your chest when she frowns. “What is it, sweet girl?”

“Everyday should be Yumu Day, not just one,” she frowns, her cheeks puffing out.

Your jaw drops a little and you hear your husband chuckle from the counter. He really spoils her too much.

“What makes you say that?” you prod, leading her up the stairs to your personal kitchen.

It was definitely convenient living upstairs from the shop, that you couldn’t deny. It saved time from having to go back and forth between two places, and it ensured that you and Osamu were never late...though that did still happen sometimes.

“Becauseeee...daddy says I’m special,” Ayumu responds as she scuttles off to her room to change out of her uniform.

You shake your head and start prepping for dinner, your boys would be home soon as well. All hell would break loose if they came home hungry and there was nothing to eat, so you rather avoid that.

“Mommy? Can I wear my princess dwess tomorrow since it’s Yumu Day?” Ayumu peeks at you from the doorway, frilly pink dress in hand.

“Of course you can,” you respond, smiling when she squeals and runs off again.

Osamu promised he had everything prepared already for Ayumu’s birthday the next day, so you didn’t have much to worry about except making sure it all went smoothly.

Luckily, her birthday falls just in the middle of cherry blossom season, so it was the perfect time to do hanami with your family. You were sure she’d be ecstatic to see her grandparents and cousins.

Dinner is fully prepared by the time you hear a barrage of noise and footsteps stamping up the stairs. You stand by the door to make sure your twins don’t come home covered in dirt and trail it all over your house...it’s happened more than once.

“TADAIMA!” they chorus when they barge through the door, kicking off their shoes.

“Okaeri,” you smile at them, glad they’re clean, “Go change out of those clothes and come back for dinner,” you tell them, watching as they nod and race each other to their room.

You stifle a laugh when you see their sister scrunch up her face on the couch when she sees them.

Osamu comes up when you call him to join you all for dinner, he never misses dinner with you and the kids, he usually has another worker man the front during that time. It was these little things that you cherish.

He walks up next to you in front of the sink and places a quick kiss on your lips in greeting.

“EWW!” comes the outburst behind you both, and you roll your eyes in unison.

“Isamu, Susumu, behave,” you scold them, but there’s no real anger behind it.

They both stick their tongues out at you, and Isamu reaches out to steal a piece of chicken off of Ayumu’s plate.

Susumu shakes his head, “Yer gonna make her cry, you know she’s a crybaby,” he tells his twin.

Isamu just shrugs and stuffs it in his mouth.

You groan inwardly when you see their little sister’s eyes well up with tears, and her face scrunch up in anger.

Just as her chubby hand reaches out to grab a handful of her brother’s hair, Osamu’s grabs it.

“Ayumu, don’t,” he gives her a warning glance, and uses his own chopsticks to take a piece of chicken from Isamu and give it back to her.

Isamu gasps in horror, “Dad, no! My chicken!”

“You stole hers first,” Osamu tells him evenly.

“Told you,” Susumu quips, snickering at his twin who just grumbles and stuffs another piece of chicken in his mouth.

After dinner, eventful as ever, Osamu heads back down to work until closing, and you make sure all the kids’ homework is done, their bags are packed, and they’re all showered and in bed.

You two had a system, and it worked...mostly.

You sigh in relief, flopping on the couch after getting the kids to bed, and having your own bath. You glance at the clock and smile noting your husband would be in soon.

Osamu heads straight for the shower when he gets in, but you frown when you hear it turn off for awhile now and he hasn’t returned to you. Curiosity gets the better of you and you head in search of him.

There’s a crack in the twins’ door and you push it open a little wider to look. Your heart warms at the sight of your husband tucking Susumu back into bed and kissing his forehead, whispering to him about how the nightmare wasn’t real. You watch silently as he caresses your son’s hair until he drifts back to sleep, then adjusts the covers on his brother.

Osamu is a little startled to see you there when he turns around. He wraps an arm around you and leads you out of the room as quietly as you both can.

“We have one more stop to make,” he tells you, steering you into the room adjacent to the twins’. You can’t help the small chuckle when you open the door to your daughter’s pink paradise, the glittery butterfly decals on the wall winking at you in the dark as you enter.

You watch as Osamu walks over to her and brushes her hair out of her face carefully to not wake her. He presses a feather light kiss to her forehead and fixes her covers.

You wish you could get these moments on video but they feel too impersonal for such precious memories. For now they’ll have to stay embedded in your memory.

“You’re the best dad and husband in the world, did you know?” you ask him when you both settle into bed.

Osamu’s heart stutters when he hears you, and he feels his throat close up a little. It’s been a long time since he’s gotten emotional, and even when he does, it’s hard to show it. The only time he feels comfortable like this is with you, and your babies. He pulls you closer and kisses the crown of your head.

“Thank you,” he murmurs quietly to you, “I just want to do right by you and them.”

“And you do, every single day,” you shift to look at him and you’re shocked to see the little extra moisture in his eyes.

“Sometimes I wonder if I do,” he sighs, looking up at the ceiling.

You reach up and place a hand on his cheek, making him face you, “You do,” you state firmly, “And we all love you infinitely for it.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he smiles one of those rare smiles just for you as he leans down to kiss you.