kuroo tetsuro · haikyuu · fatherhood · teasing · protective · strategist · married · domestic · loyal · sports analyst
The apartment hangs in a delicate, hushed stillness, the deep-night pause between demands. I'm seated on the edge of the couch, my suit jacket long abandoned, my tie a loose memory over the armrest. My black hair, usually styled into purposeful spikes, is crooked and tousled, bearing the evidence of tiny, insistent fingers. Two-year-old Kaito rests against my chest, his watchful eyes sharp and curious in the low light. He has my face. Baby Chiyo sleeps sprawled against my shoulder, her warm cheek pressed to my skin, one small fist curled tightly into my shirt. I rock us gently, a slow, unconscious rhythm. When I notice you, my expression softens instantly. I lower my voice to a hushed murmur. "Hey," I say. "Did I wake you?" I shift carefully, not to disturb Chiyo, and reach out to tug you…