✨ Various — Awkward First Steps Into Parenthood
(timeskip era, fluff / humor / slice of life)
Includes Sakusa, Komori, Hoshiumi, Hirugami, Terushima, and Meian.
│ they thought having a baby would be all giggles and gentle naps — nobody warned them about the diapers, the sleep deprivation, or the chaos they’d love anyway.
it starts with a small clatter.
you glance up from the couch just in time to see the pacifier hit the floor.
sakusa does not move. doesn’t blink. just stares down at it like it’s a live explosive.
“don’t touch it,” he mutters, eyes narrowing.
you sink back into the couch, your daughter snuggled against your chest, her tiny hand gripping your shirt. “she’s not even upset,” you point out.
“she will be,” he says, already moving.
he picks up the pacifier with a paper towel. A paper towel. carries it like evidence to the kitchen. you can hear the sink running, the clink of metal, the unmistakable sound of water boiling.
you rest your chin on top of your daughter’s head, smiling softly. “your dad’s in one of his moods again,” you whisper.
from the kitchen: “it’s not a mood, it’s a process!”
you giggle, stroking her tiny back as steam starts curling out of the pot.
fifteen minutes later, sakusa reappears — holding the pacifier with tongs.
you stare. “is that… necessary?”
“absolutely,” he says seriously. “it has to cool on a clean surface.” he lays out a sterile towel, places the pacifier down like a surgeon finishing a transplant, and crosses his arms with quiet pride.
“omi,” you say softly, “you know most parents just rinse it off and move on, right?”
he looks at you, scandalized. “that’s disgusting. she’s a baby.”
“yeah, babies are messy.”
“not my baby,” he says, firm but gentle. “she deserves better.”
you bite your lip to hide a smile. “you’re kind of ridiculous.”
“you’re welcome,” he murmurs, completely unbothered.
he walks over, crouches in front of you, and adjusts the blanket over your daughter’s back. “there,” he whispers. “all clean. no germs. perfect.”
you watch him — the way his eyes soften, his gloved hand brushing her tiny cheek like she’s made of glass.
“you love her so much it’s painful, huh?” you tease quietly.
his mouth twitches, but he doesn’t look away from her. “you have no idea.”
she makes a little noise in her sleep — that soft, content sigh that always gets him. he freezes, breath catching, like she’s the most delicate thing in the world.
“she’s gonna grow up and drop everything on the floor,” you whisper.
“then I’ll boil the world,” he says simply.
you laugh, shaking your head. “girl dad through and through.”
he glances up at you, eyes soft behind the mask, and there’s the faintest smile in his voice when he says, “yeah. guess I am.”
you find him in the kitchen, sitting at the table with the baby perched in her high chair — a bowl of mashed banana between them.
he looks so proud of himself.
“look, babe,” he says brightly, holding up the spoon like he’s about to perform magic. “she’s really gettin’ the hang of this!”
you smile, leaning against the doorframe. “oh yeah?”
“yeah! watch this—open up, sweet pea!”
and she does — mouth open, eyes wide, pure delight. he coos like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened.
“good job! atta girl! see? we’re a team.”
he’s completely in his element, smiling so big it makes your chest ache.
and all at once, there’s banana everywhere.
his shirt. his face. his hair. the walls.
he just blinks, spoon still midair, bits of banana clinging to his cheek like war paint.
“...wow,” he says finally, voice perfectly calm. “great aim, kid.”
you’re already laughing so hard you can barely stand.
“oh my god,” you wheeze, grabbing a towel. “it’s in your ear.”
“yeah,” he says blankly, still processing. “i felt that.”
the baby giggles, delighted with her newfound power.
komori blinks down at her, pretending to frown. “you think that’s funny, huh?” he says softly. “you got dad good.”
“she did,” you say between laughs. “she’s a natural.”
“i can’t even be mad,” he admits, smiling again, wiping her little nose with the corner of a bib. “look at her. she’s so proud of herself.”
you hand him the towel, still chuckling. “you’re way too calm about this.”
he shrugs, dabbing at his hair. “it’s just banana. she’s happy. that’s a win in my book.”
“you’re ridiculous,” you tease, leaning down to kiss his cheek — and end up smearing more banana in the process.
he grins. “see? now we’re matchin’.”
the baby squeals, clapping her hands, and he looks at her like the sun just rose.
“yeah,” he says softly, eyes full of warmth. “definitely a win.”
you hear him before you see him.
you pause mid-fold, blinking. “...what?”
“TIME ME!” he shouts again from the nursery, pure determination in his voice. “I’M GOIN’ FOR A NEW RECORD!”
you walk in — and immediately start laughing.
hoshi’s hovering over the changing table, diaper in one hand, wipes in the other, expression dead serious. your baby’s kicking and squealing happily beneath him, blissfully unaware that she’s become part of an event.
“you’re… what are you doing?” you ask, already smiling.
“diaper changing speedrun!” he announces proudly. “last time I clocked in at forty-two seconds. I can beat that.”
“you’re timing yourself?”
“you gotta keep track of progress!” he says, gesturing dramatically like a coach hyping up a team. “if I can shave off five seconds every day, by the end of the month—”
“hoshi, she’s not a track meet.”
he grins down at her. “you ready, princess? three… two… one—GO!”
he’s flying. wipes in, tabs undone, precision like he’s competing for gold.
“and he’s off!” he narrates to himself, talking in a full commentator voice. “smooth start! look at that wrist action! unparalleled!”
you’re trying not to laugh so hard you ruin his focus.
“FOUL PLAY!” he yells, jumping back as if he’s been struck by lightning. “UNFAIR! SHE CHEATED!”
you completely lose it, laughing so hard you have to grab the doorframe. “she what?!”
“she sabotaged me!” he insists, waving the half-folded diaper like evidence. “i was so close to the record!”
he groans dramatically, shoulders slumping as the baby giggles like she knows exactly what she did.
“you think this is funny?” he mutters, sighing as he wipes her down again. “i was in the zone!”
“maybe next time don’t trash talk your opponent.”
“she started it,” he says immediately, without hesitation.
you grin, leaning against the wall. “you’re ridiculous.”
“yeah, but I’m her ridiculous.”
he snaps the new diaper in place with flair, raising his arms triumphantly. “and still finished under a minute!”
“yeah, if you count the pee break.”
he flashes you a wide grin, baby kicking happily under his hands. “a champion always adapts.”
you roll your eyes but can’t stop smiling as he scoops her up, holding her high like a trophy. “look at that form,” he murmurs softly, kissing her cheek. “you’re a natural-born competitor, just like your dad.”
“nah,” he says, smiling against her hair. “she’s already winnin’.”
the nursery is quiet — mostly.
the baby’s wide awake, lying in her bassinet, and hirugami’s sitting on the floor beside her like a man negotiating peace.
“you need this,” he says softly, holding out the pacifier like it’s an olive branch.
he gently offers it, easing it between her tiny lips — and for half a second, it works. she sucks twice, calm and content.
she spits it right back out.
he stares down at it on the blanket, sighs quietly, and picks it up again. “okay,” he murmurs, “maybe I rushed it.”
he wipes it off, gently tries again.
same thing. two sucks, one glare, ptoo.
“why,” he says, voice soft but genuinely pained. “why are you rejecting comfort?”
you’re leaning against the doorframe, watching, trying not to laugh.
he looks up, startled, like you caught him mid–moral crisis. “she doesn’t like it,” he says helplessly.
“it’s a pacifier, sachirou, not a debate.”
“i know,” he says quickly, looking back at her with deep concern. “but she keeps spitting it out. maybe she’s trying to tell me something.”
“that she prefers natural coping mechanisms?”
you have to cover your mouth to keep from laughing. “she’s three months old, love.”
he sighs, defeated, trying again anyway. “she’s so stubborn,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.
the pacifier pops out of her mouth again and lands squarely in his lap.
he stares at it for a long moment. “she’s mocking me.”
“she’s communicating boundaries,” you tease.
“she’s mocking me,” he repeats, deadpan.
you walk over, kneeling beside him. “here,” you say gently, picking her up and rocking her against your chest. “she doesn’t need it right now. she just wants you.”
you nod, smiling. “yeah. you’re her comfort.”
he blinks, processing that — and something in his expression softens completely.
he takes her from your arms, holds her close, and the second she’s against his chest, she sighs contently and falls asleep.
his voice drops to a whisper. “that’s… kind of terrifying.”
you laugh softly, brushing his hair back. “congratulations. you’ve been outperformed by your own chest.”
he shakes his head, smiling as he kisses her hair. “yeah, well,” he says quietly, “at least she’s finally asleep.”
and just as he starts to relax — the pacifier slips from his lap, hits the floor, and he freezes.
“…i’ll sanitize it,” he says automatically.
you grin. “you’re such a dad.”
“yeah,” he whispers, smiling faintly, “guess I am.”
the first thing you notice when you get home is the silence.
the suspicious, guilty kind.
“yuuji?” you call out, setting down your bag.
from the nursery: a panicked shuffle, a muffled “shit.”
you blink. “...what are you doing?”
you walk faster. “what do you mean nothing—”
you push the door open anyway.
and there he is — your husband, standing in front of the crib, blocking it like a human shield. his eyes are wide, hair slightly disheveled, clippers still in his hand.
“hi, babe!” he says too quickly, too cheerfully. “how was your day?”
“okay, so… minor situation.”
you stare him down. “move.”
he sighs, deflating. “promise you won’t freak out?”
and there she is — your baby girl, sitting in her crib, smiling like she just witnessed a crime.
and on her tiny, perfect head? a haircut that looks like it was done by a sleep-deprived raccoon.
you gasp. “...what happened?”
“okay, okay, hear me out,” he says, hands up defensively. “you said she was gettin’ long little baby bangs, right? and I am a professional, technically, so—”
“yes! but she moved!” he says, looking genuinely wounded. “adults don’t move! adults cooperate! babies? babies duck and weave!”
you’re trying so hard not to laugh. “yuuji, she’s six months old!”
“yeah, well, she’s got reflexes like an athlete!” he groans, rubbing his face. “every time I lined up the comb, she’d lunge for the scissors! I had to dodge!”
“yeah! she bit me!” he says, holding up his finger. “see? little menace!”
you’re choking on laughter now. “so you’re telling me—”
“—that I did my best,” he interrupts quickly, “and my best was… not enough.”
you look down at your daughter, who’s still happily gurgling, tiny tufts of uneven baby hair sticking up like a feather duster.
“you gave her layers,” you whisper, wheezing.
“i panicked!” he says, slumping onto the floor. “she wouldn’t stop gigglin’ and I thought, ‘okay, maybe she’ll sit still if I talk to her,’ but then she sneezed, and the scissors—”
“—and now she looks like a tiny rock star.”
you can’t stop laughing now, tears in your eyes. “you made our baby emo.”
he drops his head into his hands. “don’t tell anyone,” he mumbles.
“oh, I’m calling my mom immediately.”
“‘hey, mom,’” you say in your best impression, pretending to hold your phone, “‘guess what? yuuji gave the baby a scene haircut!’”
he groans loudly. “I’m never livin’ this down.”
you sit beside him, still giggling, brushing your hand through the baby’s uneven fringe. “well,” you say, smiling softly, “at least it’s… unique.”
“unique,” he repeats weakly. “yeah. that’s one word for it.”
she laughs again, kicking her feet, and he melts instantly, all guilt forgotten.
“you think daddy did good, huh?” he says softly, booping her nose. “you’re rockin’ it, sweetheart. total trendsetter.”
“she looks like she lost a fight with a weed whacker.”
“yeah,” he grins, kissing her forehead, “but she’s my weed whacker baby.”
you’re brushing your teeth, glancing at the clock — it’s been over twenty minutes since he went to put the baby down.
which is odd, because meian’s good with bedtime. patient. steady. the kind of man who can calm a crying baby faster than any lullaby.
you pad down the hall, peek around the nursery door— and immediately have to cover your mouth to stop from laughing.
baby in his arms, head resting on his shoulder, tiny mouth open in blissful, deep sleep.
he looks like a man in a hostage situation.
his eyes flick toward you — slow, deliberate, like even blinking too fast might cause disaster.
“don’t,” he mouths silently.
you raise an eyebrow. “don’t what?” you whisper back.
you step closer. “what are you—”
“she knows,” he hisses softly. “every time I move, she stirs.”
“...how long have you been standing there?”
he hesitates. “fifteen minutes.”
you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “why don’t you just put her down?”
he glares at you, still frozen solid. “i tried.”
you stifle another laugh. “she’s asleep, shūgo.”
“babies don’t fake sleep.”
he narrows his eyes at you, whispering, “this one does.”
you have to step out of the room for a second to keep from laughing out loud. when you look back, he hasn’t moved an inch — broad shoulders tense, baby’s tiny hand fisted in his shirt collar.
finally, after a long pause, he whispers, “if I move her, she’ll wake up. if I stay, my arm’s gonna fall off. I’m trapped.”
you smirk. “want me to help?”
“no,” he says too quickly, eyes flicking down at the baby. “she’s finally peaceful. i can take it.”
“you’re literally shaking.”
you sigh, stepping into the room, moving slowly. “you’re gonna give yourself a cramp, love.”
“then I’ll cramp quietly,” he mutters.
you reach out, steadying his arm. “okay, big guy. let’s trade.”
you ease the baby out of his arms. she sighs once, nestling deeper into sleep.
he stands there for a moment, blinking like he’s seen a miracle. “...how’d you do that?”
you grin. “parental magic.”
he exhales, shoulders dropping as the tension melts away. “I was one creak away from tears,” he admits quietly.
you laugh softly, wrapping your arms around his waist. “you’re adorable.”
“i was frozen in place for fifteen minutes.”
you smile against his chest. “yeah. because you love her.”
he chuckles, low and sleepy, kissing the top of your head. “...yeah,” he murmurs, glancing at the crib. “guess I do.”
dededos
germansingergirl
kianamaiart
titsay
baratheonpilled
pixelskylines
