Fallen Angel | Haikyuu Male Reader Insert

[fifty-one]

[ akaashi ]
I was right wasn't i?

[ y/n ]
Are you a god or something? i swear, your advices are always godsend

[ akaashi ]
two
two yrs with bokuto and you will understand
anyone can become a communication expert after that

[ y/n ]
what would i do without u

[ akaashi ]
die?

[y/n] chuckled, typing back a quick reply before he shut his phone. He could imagine Akaashi's face all the way from Tokyo, deadpanned and exasperated. Akaashi hadn't strike him as someone who was capable of being savage the first time he met him, but talking on the phone— becoming friends, it had been obvious the older had a personality hidden behind that stone facade of his.

[ y/n ]
youd let me die? (*'ー｀*)

[ akaashi ]
yes
gladly

[ y/n ]
hey no one was mad at me tho
so not dying anytime soon
welp unless i dont get in
demon duo gonna chop my ass then

[ akaashi ]
if inarizaki doesnt let you in, its their fault

[y/n] lips curled.

"Their fault huh?" he murmured. He hurriedly typed back a goodbye as their ride neared their old house in Hyogo at [b/n]'s grunt.

"We're here," the elder announced as the car stopped.

[y/n] barely remembered how their childhood house had looked like. The only thing left of this place were the strong memories that he had associated with since that very night.

Panic. Hurt. Confusion.

The front yard had looked surprisingly fresh, the land mowed down well with newly painted picket fences surrounding the area. Even the building itself— the very building that his mother had been proud of for building with [f/n] during their engagement days— was well-kept and achingly familiar.

[f/n] stood in front of the door.

[y/n] stopped in place, moving only when [b/n] had nudged him to take his luggage when he spotted [f/n].

"[y/n], [b/n]," he simply greeted. "Glad you could make it."

[y/n] didn't greet back. He wasn't sure he could. For a good few years of his life, [f/n] had been a terrible nightmare built from the events of his childhood and the images painted by his own family trauma. Even while [f/n] had appeared in his game with a terrifying persona that had left him shuddering...

Now, standing under the bright sunlight of their childhood home, he simply looked old and worn. He was hunched the same way all men reaching their fifties did, his hair greying and the wrinkles decorating his face deepening.

Even so, this was the same man who had hit his mother.

"Father," [b/n] greeted back coldly. He had an odd look on his face as he stepped forwards, nodding his head as [f/n] let him pass to enter the house.

[y/n] watched their interaction, and after a few moments, he decided to follow [b/n]'s lead. He grabbed his luggage and hauled it after him, hurrying pass [f/n] without a glance.