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.
dad Oikawa helping his daughter/son pull out baby teeth
𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 (𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐨𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐱 𝐲/𝐧)
a/n: HIHI ANON this is SO ADORABLE i got u!!! this is super tiny and short im so sorry. and i took forever for this so im sorry abt that too 😭
summary: your husband is now reliving the terrifying experience of pulling out baby teeth because of his daughter. at least he gets to be the tooth fairy for her at the end of it.
tooru loved being a dad. he loved getting to play the most random games with his daughter, do her hair in all the fancy little styles she wanted, bring her to games and see the bright smile on her face — the smile that she'd inherited almost completely from you — whenever he did just about anything.
and he was a great dad too. despite his seemingly aloof and carefree nature, when it came to taking care of his daughter, he was incredible. but of course, the playful, teasing side of him came out often too, and it delighted him that your daughter had gotten that from him as well.
anyway, he'd thought that 5 years of fatherhood had prepared him for just about anything that your daughter could throw at him. after all, he'd dealt with countless sleepless nights, insane tantrums, emergency diaper changes, and so much more. but oh boy was he wrong. nothing could prepare him to watch his daughter lose her first tooth.
"dada?"
"yeah, sweetheart? what's up?"
"my tooth feels... wiggly," the little girl declared, reaching into her mouth to prod at said tooth.
and the speed at which tooru's eyes glistened with tears was almost insane. you'd been watching the entire interaction from right next to your husband, immediately holding his hand to comfort him.
though he didn't say it out loud very often, he'd recently felt that his daughter was growing up way too fast, and seeing the signs of her coming close to losing her first tooth was only proving him right.
"oh, darling. does it hurt at all? do you need anything?" he asked gently, making his way over to the girl after giving your hand a gentle squeeze and blinking away whatever tears threatened to spill out.
your daughter tilted her head, pouting slightly in concentration as her tongue fidgeted with the loose tooth. "mmm... no! doesn't hurt, dada! but it feels a bit weird."
tooru immediately sighed in relief, sitting down on the couch next to the girl and propping her up onto his lap. "do you need some help getting it out?"
"yes please!" she eagerly replied, grinning up at her father. "but... will it hurt, dada?"
"nope. just a slight tickle at most. i promise," he swore with complete seriousness, earning an equally serious nod from your daughter.
"okay! i trust you!"
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
and it was those three words that were currently causing tooru's hands to completely shake as he held a soft cloth and spoke. "alright, sweetheart, if it's too uncomfortable, please let me know, okay?"
the girl obediently nodded, tongue still playing with the now almost completely loose tooth in her mouth.
"okay... i got this," tooru breathed out softly as you tried — and failed — to hide your amusement. "it's just twisting a tiny tooth! how hard could that be, right?"
he glanced at you as though expecting some emotional support instead of your poorly concealed giggles. "mhmm, baby, you got this. i'm just saying, though, if this is too difficult, the good old door and string trick worked just fine with me as a child-"
"nope. never in a million years. i had to go through that too, and i'm not putting my daughter through that torture."
you laughed softly again, but your hand made its way up to his shoulder, giving it a gentle, encouraging squeeze. "it'll be fine, tooru. she's a strong girl."
"yeah. she is."
and with that, he finally instructed her to open her mouth as wide as she could, doing his best to be as gentle as he could with the tooth. thank goodness, it was already extremely loose, allowing him to pull it off with just a soft twist and tug.
his daughter was delighted at the sight of her own tooth, giggling about how 'fun' it felt to not feel it in its regular spot on her gum.
"what do i do with the tooth now, dada?" she finally asked, glancing up at him with wide, curious eyes.
"hmm... if you want, you can put it under your pillow, sleep, and when you wake up, there'll be a coin there."
she gasped in awe. "how?"
"the tooth fairy," tooru whispered, trying to make it sound as dramatic as possible.
"woah..." she gasped, practically vibrating with excitement. "can i please go to bed now? pretty please?"
tooru chuckled softly, planting a kiss on her forehead. "of course, darling. sleep well!"
"good night, dada! i love you!" she glanced over at you. "good night, mama! i love you!"
"i love you more, sweetheart," you replied, walking over to give her a kiss of your own on the top of her haid.
she beamed once more before practically sprinting to her room, her tooth held securely in her hand.
once she was out of listening range, you immediately turned to tooru. "seriously? the tooth fairy?"
"yes, ma'am. need to build up that childlike wonder and whimsy, you know."
"you're ridiculous."
"ridiculously in love with you. and ridiculously willing to do anything for our girl."
ushijima x reader | teen pregnancy | Friends and Family
Synopsis. a teen pregnancy storie between ushijima and reader.
wc. | genre. angst |cw/tags. angst, teen pregnancy mentions, ushijima being asshole :,v etc.
teen pregnancy series masterlists here!
The news spread faster than you expected and you dont even know how or when but one person whispered, another overheard — and before long, everyone seemed to know. Not the details, not the truth, but just enough to turn heads when you walked into class.
It started small: hushed murmurs in the hallway, sympathetic glances from some girls, judgmental ones from others. Then came the questions. The fake concern. The rumors.
And worst of all, your mother found out.
She didn’t find out from you. Someone had called her—maybe a teacher, maybe a concerned neighbor. You didn’t even have time to prepare.
The moment she stepped into your room, the look on her face said it all: fury, disappointment, heartbreak all at once.
“Is it true?” she asked, voice shaking.
You couldn’t meet her eyes. You just nodded.
Her anger came fast and sharp. “Do you realize what you’ve done to your life? To mine?”
Every word hit harder than the last. She wasn’t wrong, but hearing it like that broke you all over again. There was no mention of Ushijima—no name, no accusation. You didn’t tell her it was his. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to see her go after him too.
So you took it all silently.
Meanwhile, over at Shiratorizawa, the boys’ volleyball team was gathered in the gym. It was a normal afternoon practice—until Semi brought it up.
He didn’t mean to stir anything. It just slipped out between stretches.
“Hey, Wakatoshi,” Semi started cautiously, “I heard something about your ex… Is it true she’s, uh, you know… pregnant?”
Everyone froze. The sound of bouncing volleyballs stopped. Tendou’s head snapped toward Ushijima instantly, his expression unreadable.
Reon muttered, “Wait, they broke up, right? So… you think maybe…?”
“Oh, come on,” Goshiki blurted, wide-eyed and naïve. “She cheated on you, didn’t she? That’s messed up, dude.”
There was a heavy pause before Ushijima stood up straight, looking at them all with that calm, steady stare of his—the kind that made it impossible to read his thoughts.
“No,” he said simply, voice low but firm. “It’s mine.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Semi blinked. “Wait—what?”
Ushijima didn’t elaborate. He picked up the ball beside him, testing its weight in his hands like nothing had happened. “She didn’t cheat,” he added evenly. “We were together.”
Reon opened his mouth to say something but decided against it. The atmosphere had shifted completely. Ushijima was already walking toward the court again, posture straight, expression unchanged.
Practice continued, but none of them could focus. Every player felt the weight of what had just been said.
Tendou, however, knew more than the rest. He knew Ushijima hadn’t gone near you since the breakup. He knew about the guilt that lingered behind every quiet glance his captain gave whenever someone mentioned your name. And now that the truth was out—at least within the team—he could see the small fracture behind Ushijima’s calm exterior.
Back at school, things weren’t easier for you.
Your classmates talked, as they always did. Some whispered that you didn’t even know who the father was. Others claimed you’d already moved on. You ignored all of it.
Every day felt like walking through a storm you couldn’t escape. But in the corner of your mind, you knew that somewhere, Ushijima had probably heard all of it too.
And even though you hadn’t spoken to him since that awful day, part of you knew—he wasn’t the type to run away from responsibility. He never was.
You didn’t know it yet, but at every lunch break, Tendou still dropped by—making his usual excuse of “just checking in.” You never asked who told him to. You didn’t need to.
And somewhere between the silence and the guilt, both you and Ushijima carried the same thought every night before sleep hit:
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
*extra*
The morning felt heavier than usual. The hallways buzzed with low chatter, lockers slamming, shoes squeaking against the linoleum floors. You walked with your head low, clutching your books to your chest, trying to ignore the sideways glances that always seemed to follow you now.
Your stomach wasn’t showing much yet, but the rumors had already spread far enough that everyone had their own version of your story. Most of them cruel.
You were almost at your classroom when a shadow suddenly blocked your path.
You looked up—and froze.
Ushijima Wakatoshi stood in front of you. Tall, broad-shouldered, posture as straight as ever, his uniform perfectly neat. His face was unreadable, but there was something different about his eyes—something unsure.
You hadn’t spoken to him since the breakup.
For a second, you thought he might just walk past you, the same way he had been for weeks. But instead, he stopped right in your path and said quietly,
“Y/N.”
You blinked. “…What do you want?”
He hesitated. It was subtle—so subtle you might’ve missed it if you didn’t know him so well. Ushijima Wakatoshi didn’t hesitate often.
“I wanted to ask,” he said finally, his voice steady but softer than usual, “how you’re doing.”
You stared at him. A part of you wanted to laugh. Another part wanted to scream.
“How I’m doing?” you repeated, your voice dripping with disbelief. “Now you care?”
The air between you tightened. Ushijima didn’t flinch, didn’t look away.
“I’ve always cared,” he said simply.
That made you angrier. “You have a weird way of showing it, then.”
He didn’t respond to that. Just looked at you with that same expression—calm, serious, like he was trying to understand a feeling he didn’t quite know how to process.
“You should be resting more,” he said after a moment. “You look tired.”
You scoffed. “You don’t get to tell me what I should do, Ushijima.”
There was a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe—but before you could say anything else, the bell rang. You shifted to step around him, but he fell into step beside you, walking toward your classroom like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Why are you following me?” you muttered, glaring ahead.
“I’m not,” he said simply. “We’re going the same way.”
You rolled your eyes. Of course he’d say that.
When you reached your classroom door, you could already hear it—the hushed whispers that always started the moment you walked in.
“Did you see her stomach?”
“Yeah, it’s barely showing but stil...”
“I heard it’s not even the same guy she was dating before.”
“Typical.”
You clenched your jaw, pretending not to hear, but Ushijima’s steps faltered just slightly. His head turned toward the group of girls standing near the door, their laughter cutting through the air.
He didn’t glare. He didn’t scowl. He just looked at them—calm, unblinking, with that quiet authority that made people instinctively straighten up.
“It’s mine,” he said flatly.
The entire room went dead silent.
Every whisper stopped. Every head turned. Even you froze, heart pounding in your chest.
Ushijima stood there, steady as ever, eyes fixed on the group that had been talking. His tone hadn’t changed—he’d said it like it was a fact, like he was correcting a mistake in a textbook.
One of the girls stammered, “W–what?”
Ushijima didn’t repeat himself. He didn’t need to.
The tension in the air was suffocating. You could feel your classmates’ eyes darting between you and him, the weight of a hundred unspoken questions pressing down.
You finally found your voice, though it came out softer than you meant.
“You didn’t have to say that.”
He turned his head toward you. “They were wrong.”
And just like that, he nodded once—almost like a silent apology—and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
You stood frozen in the doorway, staring after him, your chest tight with too many emotions to name. Anger. Confusion. Relief.
Behind you, the class was still whispering—but this time, it wasn’t about some “random guy.”
It was about Ushijima Wakatoshi.
And the way he’d said it—calm, firm, with no shame—echoed in your mind all day.
wc: 1500
warnings: none, just fluff and some humor
part of the lads!dadverse
a/n: pushing the fish man agenda cause he's my pookie
“Daddy and Mommy! Hurry up!” Ariel bounced in place, her violet space buns bobbing as she waved eagerly at you and Rafayel.
The annual sports festival at Linkon Elementary was in full swing. Parents milled about—some stretching and hyping themselves up, others indulging in food stalls overflowing with festival treats or joining in on family-friendly activities.
And then there was Xavier—blinking sleepily near the bleachers, looking as if he’d much rather be in bed.
“Honey, are you sure you want to run? We can always do something else,” Xavier’s wife suggested, eyeing him with concern.
“Huh?” Xavier stifled a yawn. “No, it’s fine. I got this. Right, Ori?”
Orion's small hand clutched his dad’s sweatpants and looked up at him with the exact same tired expression. He held up a thumbs up, signaling to his father that he had it in the bag.
Ariel giggled and tugged on Rafayel’s sleeve as they approached the track field. “Ori’s dad and Ori and his baby brother all look the same.”
Rafayel glanced over and had to admit—she wasn’t wrong. Xavier’s wife’s genes had absolutely not put up a fight. Orion was an exact copy of his father, and the six-month-old strapped to Xavier’s wife’s chest, baby Atlas, blinked drowsily in perfect sync with them both.
“Oh, look! There’s Archer’s daddy!” Ariel chirped, pointing across the field.
Caleb was near the starting line, jogging in place while Archer chattered beside him. Caleb’s entire brood was clustered nearby—Ciel reminding him not to forget the basketball shootout later, while his wife handed snacks to the twins. Rafayel was fairly certain all of Caleb’s kids were at least in the 99th percentile for growth, built like miniature athletes thanks to their dad’s genetics.
A few feet away, Zayne stood rolling his shoulders, his gaze locked onto Caleb as if he were preparing to charge into battle. A few months ago, Archer had “dumped” Elsa, effectively ending their “marriage.” Since then, Zayne had sworn to avenge his daughter’s honor by obliterating Caleb in the parent dash.
“Hi Elsa!” Ariel waved enthusiastically, breaking Zayne’s intense concentration for a moment. Elsa turned around at the sound of her name, her bright smile lighting up her face as she waved back.
“Hi!"
“Oh! Mommy! Daddy! Did you know that Archer broke up with Elsa?" Ariel lowered he voice as she whipped around to face you and Rafayel.
"He said he likes Cece now. Elsa was really sad."
“What!” you and Rafayel exclaimed in unison, completely scandalized by this preschool drama.
Ariel, completely unaware of the impact of her words, continued on. “Yeah, but that’s okay because Elsa said Archer was the best line leader, and I think he likes her again.”
The atmosphere on the field shifted as a heavy presence entered the vicinity. Parents who had been stretching or casually chatting suddenly found themselves standing a little straighter, instinctively sensing something, or someone, had arrived.
“Well, this seems interesting.”
Sylus stepped onto the field, clad in all black. His sleeves were rolled up exposing his veiny forearms and his red eyes were concealed under black sunglasses, sending a message to the rest of the parents that he was going to win this whole thing.
A few parents exchanged nervous glances.
A teacher hesitated mid-whistle.
Even Xavier, perpetually teetering on the edge of sleep, cracked one eye open in vague curiosity.
“Daddy! You forgot your tiara!”
The entire field fell into an eerie silence. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed.
Cece, marched up to him, a bright pink, plastic, jewel-encrusted tiara clutched in her tiny hands. Sylus, still looking like he could probably take out a small gang with his bare hands, crouched down, and allowed his daughter to delicately place the plastic crown atop his head. The rhinestones caught the sunlight, glittering obnoxiously against his white hair hair.
“You ready, Daddy?” you teased, slipping your arm around your husband’s waist. Rafayel smirked, leaning in against your ear.
"Always. I’ve got my lucky charm here, after all."
He leaned in to give you a quick peck on the cheek, only to be interrupted by Ariel smacking his arm with all the force her tiny hands could muster.
“Ewww! You’re being so lovey dovey!” She scrunched up her nose, looking personally offended. “You need to get your head in the game, Daddy!”
Rafayel blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What do you mean, Glub Glub?”
“This is serious!” she huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re representing our whole family! Lemuria depends on you!” She gestured wildly toward the field, as if this were the Olympics and not an elementary school sports festival.
You bit back a laugh as Rafayel arched a brow, clearly amused. “So what you’re saying is, I need to focus?”
“Yes!” Ariel stomped her foot for emphasis. “You can be mushy later. Right now, you have to win! Look at the other daddies!”
Caleb was focused, looking every bit like a man who did cardio for fun. Zayne, despite his usual stoic demeanor, was practically burning with vengeance.
Meanwhile, Sylus, now infamously wearing Cece’s pink tiara, cracked his neck, his expression as serious as ever as he waited for the starting signal. Then there was Xavier, mid-yawn but somehow still managing to look deceptively athletic.
“Daddy. You have to crush them.”
You smirked, giving Rafayel’s butt a playful pat. “Well, you heard the boss. Better not disappoint her.”
Rafayel bent down to meet his daughter’s gaze, a serious expression settling over his face. “Alright, Coach. Anything else I should know before I go out there?”
“Yes. Run fast.”
The participants were lined up at the starting line. The crowd was abuzz with anticipation as kids cheered for their respective parent and the announcer’s voice rang out over the speakers.
“On your marks… Get set… Go!”
Zayne took off like a man possessed, laser focused on Caleb, who was a few feet away, blissfully unaware of the grudge match about to unfold. The Colonel, still seemingly unbothered, was just happy to be there, and that only further enraged Zayne.
Sylus was right beside him, arms pumping, breath steady, somehow managing to keep the tiara balanced on his head as Rafayel took off beside him. Your husband’s strides carried him forward, muscles flexing as he pushed harder spurred on by the cheers of your little girl.
Then there was Xavier.
What no one saw coming, what no one could have possibly predicted, was the moment Xavier, sleepy and seemingly disinterested, exploded forward. It was like something primal took over, his long legs moving with shocking efficiency, his relaxed posture giving way to a sudden burst of unparalleled speed.
Zayne, mid-sprint, turned his head just enough to see an absolute blur whiz past him. Sylus, who had been so focused on keeping his form tight and his tiara steady, risked a glance and nearly tripped.
“Oh, wow, dude’s fast—” Caleb chuckled as Xavier effortlessly overtook him in the final stretch.
The crowd roared.
The kids cheered.
Parents gasped.
And just like that, the race was over.
Xavier skidded to a stop past the finish line. He blinked at the crowd, the stunned competitors, and the announcer who was gaping at him.
“Oh,” Xavier mumbled, rubbing his neck. “Did I win?”
“You won, Dada!” Ori cheered, running toward him with open arms. Xavier scooped up his son and spun him around. Even little Atlas was bouncing excitedly in his carrier, kicking his tiny feet in celebration.
Rafayel was frozen in place, still trying to process what had just happened. His body had reacted, his legs had moved, his arms had pumped with perfect form. And yet, somehow, some way, Xavier had just whipped past him defying the laws of physics.
And the worst part?
You had caught the exact moment his soul left his body.
“You did great, Daddy!” Ariel chirped, wrapping her arms around Rafayel in a comforting hug as he collapsed against the bleachers.
Rafayel’s eye twitched as he finally snapped out of his daze. He turned to look at his daughter, his pride, his biggest fan, his coach, only to see that she wasn’t even looking at him anymore. She was watching the replay on your phone.
Tears streamed down your face as you clutched your stomach, gasping for breath. You had watched the video at least five times now, and each time, it got funnier. Because there, right there, was the exact moment Xavier passed him, and your husband made the ugliest, most tragic face known to mankind.
You wheezed, shoving the phone in his face. “Babe, look at this—”
His brows shot up to his hairline, his eyes bulged so wide they practically swallowed his face, and his mouth floundered open gasping for air.
“I don’t want to,” he pouted, turning away from you.
“Aww you’re still the best to Ari and me,” you cooed, crouching down to poke your husband’s cheek.
Rafayel exhaled sharply, his cheeks puffing out like a frustrated fish as he stared into the distance. Then, with fiery determination, he straightened his shoulders. Placing his hands on his hips, he rose to his full height, his posture radiating resolve.
“Next year,” he declared. “Next year will be different.”
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.
