#dad oikawa

By the time you finally open the apartment door, it’s long past midnight.

At least, you think it is. Midnight was the last time you remember checking the time— somewhere between one drink too many and someone insisting you stay just a little longer. One glance at your phone—far too bright, far too close— confirms it’s already three in the morning.

You exhale slowly.

The door clicks shut behind you. The quiet seems unreal. Your ears ring. The humming of the refrigerator seems unrealistically loud. Bag down.

You crouch to unlace your shoes.

Halfway down, the room tilts.

Your stomach lurches, your vision swims, and you barely have the time to brace yourself before you lose your balance and land on all fours, palms splayed against the cool floor.

“…Okay.“

You close your eyes.

Count your breaths.

Wait.

The spinning eases, but the nausea clings, stubborn and heavy. When you open your eyes again, you’re staring at the back of your hands, trying to calculate the safest way to stand up without redecorating the hallway.

“…Everything okay?“

You jolt at the sound of your husband’s voice. A second later, the hallway light flicks on— and pain blooms sharp and sudden behind your eyes.

“Ugh—sorry.“

Your forehead drops to the floor.

“Did I wake you?“

Your voice comes out rough, words dragging behind your thoughts. Footsteps approach, soft and familiar. Oikawa drops down beside you without hesitation, one hand immediately threading into your hair, fingers gentle against your scalp.

“No. I was up anyway.“

His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Just finished feeding the monster.“

There’s a tired smile in his voice. He helps you sit up, steadying you. Still half bent over, he slips your shoes off, fingers practiced unhurried.

The rest comes in fragments.

A full glass of water pressed into your hands. You had to drink it all. No arguing allowed.

You hissing when your skin catches in the zipper as he helps you out of your dress. Him murmuring apologies into your shoulder.

Your weak protests while he wipes makeup from your face, the cloth warm, patient, like he has all the time in the world.

You staring at your toothbrush for far too long.

You don’t remember lying down.

You’re gone before your head ever hits the pillow.

Just in case, Oikawa places a bucket beside the bed. He tucks the blanket around you, pauses long enough to make sure your breathing has evened out, the finally allows himself to relax as he slips in beside you.

—

Oikawa´s morning starts at five thirty.

His son begins to cry—not because he’s hungry, or needs a diaper change. No. He just decided that he needs an audience while he mourns his own existence.

“…Yeah.“

Oikawa rolls out of bed with a heavy sigh.

“I feel that.“

He shuffles into the nursery and scoops his son up with a practiced motion. The crying dissolves into a small, offended whimper the moment the baby recognizes him.

Oikawa starts rubbing slow circles on his back.

“Why are we awake so early, buddy?“

The baby blinks, still pouting.

Oikawa sighs.

Couch it is.

—

Around six thirty, he hears the soft patter of bare feet.

His son is snoring lightly against his chest, bottle empty and discarded somewhere nearby. Oikawa himself has drifted off between one half-remembered match replay and the next. He blinks awake just as a small figure appears in the doorway.

Wild curls.

A stuffed doll dragging along the floor behind her.

“Papa.“

Her voice is thick from sleep.

“I…wake up.“

Oikawa sits up carefully and looks her over.

“…Where are your pants?“

She blinks. Looks down at herself. Sleep shirt. Pull-up.

“Oh.“

She rubs her face harshly.

“Gone.“

She shrugs, entirely unbothered, and toddles closer—then freezes when she sees her brother.

“Mama…Mama not with baby?“

Oikawa nods, pulling her close with his free arm.

“Mama is still sleeping. She feels yucky.“

His daughter considers this with great seriousness. Then she nods.

Silence settles.

“No pee.“

Oikawa smiles, pulls her closer to kiss her hair.

“That’s very good. I‘m proud of you.“

“…But now pee. Papa. Come. Hurry. Toilet.“

Yeah. Sure.

—

An hour later, cartoons hum softly in the background. His daughter hops across the living room, full of boundless energy. Oikawa scrolls through his phone with one hand while his son clings to his bottle like he’s narrowly escaped starvation. Again.

The jam sandwich has two tiny bites taken out of it. The cocoa remains almost untouched.

“Papa. Hold this.“

His daughters stuffed doll is deposited into his lap with great authority. His son pulls away from the bottle, brows knitting as he stares at it with all the intensity he can muster.

She doesn’t even notice him.

“Papa watch baby.“

She declares, hands on her hips.

“I clean.“

Oikawa blinks. His son resumes drinking, though his eyes never leave his sister.

“…Okay. The Papa is on baby-watching duty today.“

He lifts the doll carefully, to position her upright.

„Papa!“

His daughter snaps, stomping her tiny foot—still barefoot, because slippers are optional— while pointing a finger at him.

“Careful! Baby is sleeping!“

She disappears into her room and returns moments later wielding her toy vacuum cleaner. Immediately, she gets to work, carefully covering every inch of the rug while humming to herself.

Oikawa watches her for a moment.

“Hey. Miss Clean. Your vacuum cleaner is not plugged in.“

She stops dead.

Looks down.

Then up at him.

Her face fills with pure, scandalized disbelief— like he’s just embarrassed her in public.

“Papa.“

Her voice is deep, like she’s about to say something really important.

“Is just play.“

“Oh…“

She returns to her task, shaking her head, like she can’t believe she had to explain that to him.

You’d quit your job to focus on the planning and all had been going well.

Now the week was two months away and all you had left was the finishing touches.

All of the major stuff was done, and now all you had to do was plan the little things. Little things that would’ve been really helpful to have your fiancé's input on, so you opened his door slowly to see if he was streaming, which he was, but he was in the middle of a break.

“Hey baby,” you smiled, walking over to sit on his lap, “are you busy right now?”

You couldn’t tell when you walked in, but he seemed pissed off. 

“I’ve been streaming for four hours. All I want is a break, what do you want?” He responded harshly.  

“Just turn off the stream, I wanna talk about wedding stuff,” you bargained. 

“One of us has to work, Y/N. I know it’s fun to just lounge around on the couch and pick flowers but I have a real job. A job I need to support you and this lavish wedding you want.” 

After hearing this, you simply got up and left the room. If that was truly how he felt, so be it. There didn’t have to be a wedding after all.

Going into a guest room and slamming the door, you instantly started applying for jobs. Kenma knew you were waiting until you finished college to get a job again, and that he’d support you through getting your masters degree. But clearly, that was a lie. 

And you wouldn’t force him to support you any longer.

(Not dressing up)

You were 20 weeks pregnant. Finally at the point where it didn’t just look like you ate a lot. It looked like you were growing a baby. This also meant that it was getting harder to find an outfit that wasn’t just a shirt that was streched out too much, or an ugly maternity dress that made you look even fatter than you felt. Thankfully, Oikawa was there for you ever step of the way. Buying you new things to try on, encouraging you, and telling you how beautiful you looked. But his views changed one day.

Now you and your husband, Oikawa, were walking around the grocery store. Just buying food for the week when one of his old classmates came up to him.

She was pregnant too, and shopping for groceries with her husband. The only difference was she was absolutely glowing. Her bump fit her nicely, and the dress she was wearing looked amazing on her. It gave her a very cheery vibe.

Since you didn’t go to Aoba Johsai, you didn’t know them. So, you just smiled and looked at the food intently, as if you didn’t know what you were going to grab. 

After a while they left and Oikawa’s mood seemed to have worsened.

“What’s wrong babe?” You asked, trying your best to keep up with the speed that he walked to the cash register, “and we’re missing a few things.”

“Why can’t you look more like Nami? She’s 24 weeks and she still dresses nicely,” He complained, gesturing towards your Crocs, T-shirt, and sweatpants.

“I’ve tried, nothing you good on me,” you were about to cry. You didn’t know if it was pregnancy hormones or if it was the fact that your husband was berating you in public. It was a good thing the cashier had her airpods in and the store was fairly empty.

“Well maybe you should stay home then. It’s embarrassing when my friends’ wives look better than my own,” he grumbled, picking up the pancake mix and syrup you put in the basket, “seriously? Are you trying to look like a whale?” 

Instead of explaining how HIS child was craving it, you simply put it back on the shelf and was silent the entire way home.

That night, after putting everything up and showering you rolled on your side of the bed alone. When he wrapped his arms around your bump as he did every night, you pushed him off. Ignoring him when he tried to apologize and reason with you.

The next day when he apologized, bought you new clothes, jewelry, and the food you wanted you still didn’t talk to him.

It’d take a lot more than bribery for you to forgive his actions. 

THIS BELONGS TO CARLEY-CHAN 2023 DO NOT REWORK/REWRITE!!

Fights are pretty rare in your relationship, but when they do occur, it’s draining for both parties. Considering neither of you were willing to back down and lower your pride, it eventually sorts itself out— except you don’t have eventually; at least not anymore, not when you have a little girl sleeping in the other room, and God knows you’re not about to let her see you bullying her dearest ‘kind daddy’ in the dead of night.

Well, maybe a little too late for that..

“Daddy!” Both of you immediately turn your heads to the source of the tiny voice. This was it— you could already hear the teasing your husband is going to subject you to after this.

“Princess, what are you doing awake? Did mommy’s nagging wake you?” What a hypocrite.

She walks up to him…and pushes him aside??

“You’re being mean to mommy! You sleep outside.” She scolds as she proceeded to push his stunned figure out the door.

To say he was dumbfounded was an understatement— Tooru was absolutely heartbroken; and though he did deserved it, you kind of felt bad when you saw the look on his face before his little girl shut the door on him.

He goes back in when she’s not looking though, crouches on your side of the bed and practically begs you to make her forgive him (as if you weren’t the one he was scolding earlier huh)

“Sweetheart, daddy’s really sorry- you didn’t have to kick him out” you said as she snuggled next to you, in his spot— at this point he really wasn’t sure if it was you or her he was jealous of; he suddenly remembers just how much he missed both his girls while he was away for work, and the first thing he did when he got back was argue with you about something so trivial it didn’t even warrant an argument in the first place.

The hurt he felt before multiplied a tenfold after that realization, that was one more thing about Oikawa; he was a prideful loser that would do anything to make you feel better, and believe me, it works.

For the next week he’s the one singlehandedly driving you two to and from work and school— even takes y’all on a few dinner dates (mostly to gain his little princess’ favor again but considering how that moment would go down in the history books if your household, you don’t really mind.

“Send me a sign, let my mind ease, finally I want to...I want to breathe.” A silent prayer filled Oikawa Tooru’s usually busy brain, however said man was unable to concentrate on anything else; this mantra was on repeat, like a broken record, making the anxiety prone Tooru feel utterly destroyed. Of course when people were passing by they could only see a handsome young man waiting in front of a building, probably taking someone on a date, hence the beautifully arranged bouquet in his hand.

He screwed up...long ago and should’ve put the broken pieces together much earlier, but it’s not too late. Right? Why did he run away when the woman of his dreams fully accepted him...him, with that wrecked heart of his. Is he seriously that dumb? Apparently...

The wind was chilly, and Tooru really appreciated the fact that he was used to Japan’s cold winters, otherwise he’d already frozen to the bench. It was 6 pm, Y/n should take off now and just as the thought left his mind, the woman appeared in the entrance; weary, dishevelled from the long office work, yet a happy smile was playing around her lips as she waved her colleagues off. That happy smile disappeared upon glancing at Tooru, who nervously waved at her, but she just turned around and walked to her car.

-Y/n, wait! –He yelled after the woman, but she kept ignoring him. Luckily for Tooru, he was a fast runner, though he seemed kind of comic running after Y/n, with the huge bouquet, desperate not to fall on the icy side walk.

“Forgive me, please, forgive me.” Another silent prayer...around the hundredth one today.

Y/n was about to sit in her car when the brown haired man stopped her.

-I owe you an apology, because I was a selfish bastard who left you alone during one of your hardest time in life. I shouldn’t have. It was completely digusting of me. Here. Please take it. –He handed her the enormous bouquet.

-Do you really think you can buy my forgiveness by giving me a bouquet? –She raised an eyebrow at the volleyball player, ready to destroy him, when she noticed small teardrops making their way out of Tooru’s eyes.

-No. I know, I screwed up. I was scared. I didn’t know what to do, so I ran away like a coward. But I’m not a coward Y/n. I want to prove how much you mean to me, how much I love you. Please, let me...

-Enough! –Her sharp voice cut the air like a knife; lips were trembling as she looked at her once darling. –You decided what you want to do and I did the same. You left me alone with a child on her way...

-Wait, she’s a girl? Oh my, Y/n, a girl. –He couldn’t help but felt giddy. Despite the circumstances and his coward action, Tooru Oikawa was happy. He always imagined himself as a girl dad.

-Why does it matter to you? You left me alone with the child on her way, saying you need to take care of stuffs. For three months Tooru? Without calling? Texting? Sending smoke signs??? A freaking pigeon???? How could you do that to me? To us? –She sighed, resting her hand on her already visible bump. –I’m not saying you should be involved, because who am I to declare that...

-My girlfriend? –He added with hope in his voice, but Y/n sent her a glare.

-I’m saying, you should at least have given a sign, or told me immediately that you don’t want to be part of this. I was waiting, waiting for three months. I went through a lot. I was anxious. Stressed. Alone. –Her teardrops were having a competition against Oikawa’s. He looked at the woman, whose face was glowing despite the obvious tiredness, her body went through so many changes, just like her mind and heart. He hated the fact that he was the one made her cry and not out of happiness. How he wanted to embrace her, how he wanted to tell her sorry and pamper her. But he screwed up majorly. The woman of his life, the only one he ever loved with all his heart is now mad at him, maybe she doesn’t even love him anymore. This thought totally broke him and sobbed into the woman’s neck, who was crying uncontrollably as well.

There they were...hugging, crying as the snow slowly buried the sidewalk, as to erase the dirt sitting there. Everything was pure, soft and warm, despite the cold weather. People came and went. It was almost 7 pm. The silence offered a bit of relief for both, they could clear their minds a bit before Tooru decided to take a chance again.

-Y/n, listen to me please. I...I got scared. I didn’t know if I was ready for such a big step, I mean...a whole human’s life would depend on me.

-Tooru... –She started only to be interrupted by said man again.

-No, what I did was unforgiveable and I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore. –The tears made their appearance again. –But I’m begging you, to try.

-Tooru...-She sniffled- you really hurt me.

-I know.

-Do you even love me?

-More than anything.

-Then why were you scared? We could’ve managed this whole thing together. –She pointed at her bump. Oikawa just realized she’s probably in her fifth month.

-I...don’t know.

-Well, figure it out! –She said, wiping her tears away, her facial features became like steel again. Lips pressed together, eyes still full of sorrow. She got in the car, but Oikawa sat in as well.

-Tooru, I need time to think about the future. –A long sigh made its escape. It was full of confusion and worry. She was about to raise her daughter alone, when Tooru waltzed out of her life, but he’s here now and no matter how draining this whole situation was, deep inside she still loved him.

-Okay, let’s think together.

-Seriously...

-Y/n, let me be part of this. Let me be her father. –He looked at her belly with a mixture of fear and love; these two feelings were still fighting in his heart, but love seemed to win this time.

-What if you leave me again?

-I won’t.

-How can I know? You just disappeared one day.

-Well...about that.

Y/n was fuming at that point.

-Do you have a secret family in Argentina??

Oikawa couldn’t help but laugh. His girl really had a wild fantasy, but...he can’t blame her. He’d be just as paranoid. Just as loud and dramatic. They really found each other in the sea of grayness.

-No, Y/n, I went back to sell my house. I got invited in the MSBY Black Jackals in Japan, I had to take care of it too. I bought a house here. It took me around 5 weeks. The rest...yeah, I was scared, that’s true. I sold the house to end that part of my life, I joined the team to start a new one. With you, hopefully. True, being a father still seems like a though job, and I don’t know if I’m going to be a good dad or not. But I know one thing for certain: I will try my best every single day, to make you forgive and to be the best father and best partner.

The drive to her home was short, but seemed like an eternity as the silence embraced both the volleyball player and the manager. They both knew something had broken, but there was a chance to repair what’s used to be love.

“What do you mean, your socks are wrong? They’re both pink. They match.“

“Noooooo!“

Big, dramatic tears streamed down her cheeks as his daughter collapsed onto the carpet, rolling across it, arms flailing and heels thumping against the floor.

“There’s a thread between my toes! The socks are wroooong!“

Oikawa pinched the bridge of his nose. This was familiar territory. She’d scream, she’d cry, she’d forget all about it in— he checked an imaginary watch— approximately thirty seconds.

Much more pressing was the real crisis of the morning.

“Sweetheart. Which backpack are you taking to kindergarten?“

She paused mid-roll and looked up at him, cheeks blotchy, eyelashes clumped together with tears.

“… Don´t know.“

“What do you mean, you don’t know?“

She shrugged, pushed herself to her feet— and just like that, the socks ceased to exist as a problem.

“Don´t know.“

Oikawa dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled heavily. His gaze drifted to the baby bouncer by the wall, where his son was happily babbling at absolutely nothing, tiny fists waving like he had an important point to make.

“Alright. Then I guess I have to ask Mama.“

He crept toward the bedroom, moving as quietly as possible.

“Papa! I wanna wear this!“

He glanced over his shoulder. His daughter stood proudly in the doorway, clutching a glittery dress with an alarming amount of tulle.

“Absolutely not.“

“Wheeeeey?“

“You are not going to kindergarten dressed as a princess.“

—

Not a single coherent thought formed in your head. You’d been drifting in and out of half-sleep for hours, your body heavy, your skull pounding like it had its own heartbeat.

Every movement made the nausea swell unpleasantly.

The bedroom door creaked open.

“Sweetheart? Honey?“

You buried your face deeper into the pillow, the sliver of hallway light burning behind your eyelids.

“Sweetheart? Which backpack is fr kindergarten? The purple one or the pink one?“

You frowned faintly. The question took far too much effort.

“…Pink.“

Oikawa nodded, satisfied, and slipped back out of the room.

With a soft groan, you sank even further into the mattress. Breathing was a little harder with your face half-buried, but at least the nausea eased. That felt like a fair trade.

A good ten minutes passed before the door opened again.

“Sweetheart? Honey?“

You turned your head just enough to make a small noise, letting him know you were alive.

“Is she getting juice or water? She says juice, but I don’t trust her.“

He stood in the doorway, holding up a water bottle in one hand and a juice box in the other.

“Both.“

You coughed, voice much worse than earlier.

“She… she always takes both.“

“Oh… okay. Thanks. I’ll make you some tea in a bit.“

He throws a kiss in your direction.

“Mm-hm.“

Once the door closed, you slowly worked yourself onto your back. A shower would be nice. Eventually. Preferably after Tooru had left with the kids. The mental image of your daughter gleefully slamming into your legs made your headache throb in protest.

You’d barely managed to sit up when—

“Sweetheart?“

You shot Oikawa a glare sharp enough to kill.

“Does she need sneakers? When do they have gym class?“

“…Fridays.“

“And today is…?“

“Not Friday.“

“So?“

“Ugh, Tooru! No shoes!“

Summoning the last of your strength, you hurled a pillow at him.

It missed by an impressive margin.

—

“Papa, look! Shoes like this!“

His daughter beamed up at him, proudly displaying her Velcro straps fastened crisscrossed.

“I see. Very impressive.“

His son was strapped snugly against his chest in the baby carrier, head tipped back far enough to stare into Oikawa’s soul. The baby blinked once. Slowly.

“Alright, team.“

Oikawa reached for his keys.

“Are we ready?“

“Ready!“

She bounced toward the door, crooked ponytail swaying with each step. Oikawa wondered, not for the first time, how many of those glittery hair clips she’d be bringing back home today.

“Nngh.“

He froze.

That sound.

Oikawa looked down just in time to see his son’s eyes lose focus, tiny face turning pink.

“No. Buddy. Please. Not now.“

“Nngh!“

The baby’s face went red.

Normally, when his wife was with them, she’d carry the baby or push the stroller, while Oikawa carried their daughter. Or she’d sit on his shoulders. She’d complain about hurting feet, or start babbling about everything that had happened in kindergarten the other day.

Today, Oikawa was facing this dilemma alone.

His son was still strapped into the carrier on his chest, tiny head thrown back to stare straight into Oikawa´s soul. Occasionally, little hands would try to grab onto something, ending up clutching his shirt. Every now and then, he made “oh“, “uh“, or “ah“ sounds, trying to communicate with his father.

Oikawa, tough, was busy.

“Papa!“

“Yes, sweetheart?“

His daughter had stopped a few steps behind him, squatting down.

“There’s a rock!“

He blinked. Looked down.

There was a rock. A completely unremarkable pebble, embedded in the sidewalk like it had always been there and always would be.

“…Okay.“

She squinted at it, like a mini detective investigating a crime scene.

“It’s shiny!“

“It is. Very shiny.“

The baby shifted against his chest, a tiny sigh puffing warm air through the fabric. Oikawa adjusted the carrier instinctively- one hand supporting the small back, the other hovering uselessly in toddler-emergency readiness.

“Can I bring it home?“

Oikawa hesitated. He knew how this would end. By the end of the week, pebbles would be lining every surface, because they can’t be lonely. By week two, she’d start putting them in her bed, because they should be comfy.

He’d see his wife handle those situations. Gently negotiate. Gently redirect. Gently escape.

However, he was not his wife.

“That rock has a family.“

He said solemnly.

“If you take it, Mother Rock will be devastated.“

His daughter froze.

“Rocks have mamas?“

“Yes.“

“Do they cry?“

“Constantly.“

Her expression shifted from confused to horrified. Carefully, she patted the pebble.

“Okay. Bye, rock!“

The walking resumed.

Four steps.

“Papa?“

Oikawa stopped again.

“…Yes?“

“There’s a bug!“

A ladybug crawled along the curb, minding its own business. His daughter squatted down again.

Oikawa sighed as the baby shifted again, this time complaining with an offended “eh!“

“Honey… your brother will get hungry soon. We have to go home.“

“But it’s lost!“

The ladybug continued walking in a straight, very confident line.

“…It looks pretty sure of itself.“

“It doesn’t know where its house is!“

Oikawa crouched as far as the carrier allowed.

“Listen. Bugs have built-in maps. Like Papa.“

“Papa. You don’t have maps.“

“That’s just because Papa refuses to admit that he’s lost.“

She considered this. Then nodded, satisfied.

“Okay.“

She stood-slowly, carefully- and reached for his free hand. Oikawa took it like it was sacred.

They walked again. Victory felt fragile.

Half a block later, her steps slowed.

Then dragged.

Oikawa felt it immediately- the shift in weight, the subtle lean.

“No… no, no, no.“

He whispered, clutching her hand tighter.

“Papa?“

His daughter looked up at him, speaking softly- the way she did when she was about to ask for something unreasonable.

“Dont say it.“

“My legs are tired.“

He looked down at her. Looked at the baby. Looked at the long, long stretch of sidewalk ahead.

“Your legs… you mean the same legs that survived a mortal injury fifteen minutes ago?“

“They’re very weak now.“

He pressed his lips together, thinking hard.

Normally, this was where he’d scoop her up, toss her onto his hip like it was nothing. Easy. Automatic.

But his son shifted again, warm and solid against his chest, and Oikawa knew he couldn’t do both. Not safely. Not without risking a headline he really didn’t want.

“Sweetheart… a little more?“

—

When his wife had been pregnant with their son, they’d moved into their new house. Back then, Oikawa praised the location. The playground was “only five minutes away.“

No one could have prepared him for a day when the walk took them half an hour.

By the time he finally maneuvered both children into the house, he was ready to call in sick for the next week. Maybe his coach would understand.

His son- now whining- clutched Oikawa’s shirt like a lifeline as he tried to put him into the baby bouncer.

“I know, buddy. I’ll get your bottle ready. I won’t leave, I promise.“

Apparently, Oikawa was an unreliable human being.

His son broke into sobs as soon as he was strapped in.

“I know, I know. You’re starving. You poor Victorian child who’s never seen food in his life…“

Oikawa shook the bottle to mix the formula, then turned the bottle warmer on.

“Alright, buddy. Three minutes. You can do it!“

He cheered.

His son stopped crying- only to stare at him with wobbly lips and red cheeks, fist clenched. In frustration or anger, Oikawa couldn’t tell.

“Papa?“

His daughter appeared in the kitchen, toddling over with exaggeratedly exhausted steps.

“Can I have a pudding?“

Oikawa exhaled. Finally- a task that wasn’t complicated.

He grabbed the pudding from the fridge and tore the lid off. All the way off.

“Here you go, sweetheart.“

His daughter blinked at him.

“Papa.“

“Yes?“

“You… broke it.“

“What? No, it’s all there. Look.“

He lifted the pudding, trying to prove it wasn’t broken or torn.

“Noooo-!“

She basically exploded into tears.

“I WANTED TO TAKE THE LID OFF!“

She hiccuped furiously, dramatically collapsing to the floor. Her brother- who had been peacefully watching the drama unfold while sucking on his fist- decided to show full solidarity.

Within seconds, both children were at risk of drowning in a pool of tears.

The bottle warmer beeped.

“Should I… put the lid back on the pudding?“

Suddenly, Oikawa felt like crying too.

“Noooo…“

She sobbed harder.

“It’s broken! Forever!“

Autonomy. He’d talked about his with his wife. You were supposed to take every need seriously. Especially food. Ask about preferences- including whether to peel the lid or not.

With both kids still crying, his phone pinged.

A message from his wife, asking if everything was going well.

Traitor.

She’d really gone out with her girls. After he’d told her to go out and relax. How could she trust him?

Both kids pitched their screaming, now crying in perfect sync.

Oikawa started typing, defeated smile on his lips and tears in his eyes.