Btw gender and baby names picked by me. Not canon or anything. And Ik Subaru doesnt like children.
Coming out of your warm shower that relaxed your sore body After giving birth just days ago, a beautiful boy who came your womb now into your arms… well not at the moment. You were given a mummy break which you desperately needed without even knowing it. Adding some product into your damp hair and applying a cool pad onto your pad due to tearing when pushing.
After you did all your little necessities, you switched off the light and went out into your bedroom where you’d probably see your husband, Shu asleep and your baby boy, Sei in his crib but you halted when you saw the sight that made your heart burst; Shu shirtless giving skin to skin contact with sei who held a tiny grip on Shu’s thumb, they were both asleep, soundly.
The soft glow of the hallway light catches the rise and fall of Shu’s bare chest. For a man who usually avoids effort at all costs, the sight before you is entirely effortless in its warmth.
Shu is leaning back against a pile of pillows, his golden hair slightly messy. Sei is a tiny, fragile weight resting right over his father's heart. One of Shu's large hands is curved loosely around the baby's back, keeping him perfectly secure. Sei’s microscopic fingers are locked tight around Shu’s thumb.
The room is completely silent, save for the synchronised, soft breathing of the two most important people in your world. The noise-cancelling headphones Shu usually glues to his ears are sitting forgotten on the nightstand. Right now, the only sound he wants to be close to is his son's heartbeat.
Your sore muscles and the lingering ache from the delivery room seem to fade for a brief second. Shu doesn't open his eyes, but as your shadow crosses the bed, his voice cuts through the quiet—low, gravelly, and barely above a whisper.
“You're letting the cold air in,” he murmurs, his chest vibrating slightly against Sei, causing the baby to let out a tiny, contented sigh. Shu’s eyes flutter open just a crack, locking onto yours with a rare, soft warmth.
“Get over here. He missed your heartbeat. ...And so did I.”
The sharp smell of lavender and medical-grade disinfectant lingers in the air as you step out of the bathroom. Unlike the dim, chaotic household you are used to, your bedroom has been transformed into a pristine, hyper-organised sanctuary.
Reiji is standing by the mahogany changing table, his posture as impeccably straight as always, though his suit jacket is missing. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows with mathematical precision. In front of him, little Ren is lying on a plush, white towel, kicking his tiny legs.
You expect to see Reiji looking stressed or clinical, but instead, he is operating with absolute, quiet reverence. He gently presses a warm, damp cloth against the baby’s skin, wiping away the last traces of a bath. His movements are incredibly gentle, contrasting sharply with his usual rigid demeanour.
“Now, Ren,” Reiji says, his voice a low, soothing baritone that carries none of his usual biting sarcasm. “A proper gentleman does not fuss during his evening routine. We must ensure your skin is perfectly moisturized to prevent chafing.”
Ren lets out a tiny, high-pitched coo, his little fists waving in the air. To your absolute shock, a faint, genuine smile brushes past Reiji’s lips. He picks up a silver baby brush and begins to smooth down the infant's soft, dark hair with meticulous care. Sensing your presence, Reiji adjusts his spectacles with his knuckle and glances toward the doorway.
His expression softens, his eyes scanning your tired face. “You are awake,” Reiji notes gently, stepping back to reveal the perfectly bathed, diapered, and swaddled baby. “I have calculated your sleep deficit from the delivery and adjusted the schedule. Sit. I have prepared a nutrient-dense tea to aid your postpartum recovery, and your pillows have been sanitized and fluffed”
He carefully lifts Ren, supporting the baby's head with absolute precision, and walks over to hand him to you. “You did exceptionally well today. Now, let me take care of you both.”
The scent of butter and sweet maple syrup hits you the moment you step into the kitchen, a stark contrast to the usual heavy silence of the Sakamaki mansion. Your body is still exhausted and aching from giving birth just days ago, but the sudden, loud clattering of pots and pans immediately draws you out of bed.
Standing at the stove is Ayato, looking entirely out of his element but fiercely determined. He has his shirt sleeves pushed up, a chaotic splattering of flour dusting his trousers, and a spatula gripped tightly in his hand. Safely strapped to his chest in a brand-new, sleek black baby carrier is little Taiga.
The baby is awake, his bright eyes wide as he stares up at his father. Ayato is flipping a pancake with aggressive enthusiasm, catching it perfectly in the pan. “Ha! Did you see that, Taiga? Your old man is a genius!” Ayato brags loudly, pointing the spatula at the infant. He lowers his voice slightly, leaning down so his nose brushes against the baby’s soft cheek.
“When you grow up, Yours Truly is gonna teach you how to flip 'em just like this. And you're gonna eat twice as many as anyone else, got it? You gotta be the strongest.” Taiga lets out a tiny, high-pitched squeak, his small fist flailing up and accidentally smacking Ayato right on the chin.
Instead of getting irritated, Ayato lets out a loud, booming laugh, his eyes flashing with pride. “That's it! Good reflex! You've got a killer punch already, brat.” He finally notices you leaning against the doorframe, watching them with a tired smile. Ayato’s cocky grin widens, though a faint, rare blush creeps up his neck.
He quickly plates a massive stack of fresh takoyaki-flavored pancakes and pushes the plate toward the kitchen table. “About time you got up,” Ayato huffs, trying to sound demanding but failing miserably as he pulls out a chair for you. “Sit down and eat. You look pale, and Yours Truly needs you energized so we can start training him. I made these so you can get your strength back. Don't leave a single bite!”
As you sit, he leans over, carefully shielding Taiga with his arm, and presses a firm, warm kiss to your forehead. “You did good bringing my heir into the world. Now eat up.”
The faint sound of a sewing machine whirring at a frantic pace draws you down the hallway. Your body still feels heavy and exhausted from giving birth, but the strange, rhythmic noise pushes you to investigate.
Stepping into the guest room, you find the floor completely covered in bolts of expensive fabric, velvets, silks, and heavy black lace. Kanato is sitting at the sewing table, his violet eyes wide and bloodshot, moving with a manic, hyper-focused energy.
Right next to him, little Miku is asleep in her bassinet, completely unfazed by the noise. Teddy sits guard on a chair right beside her. “Almost finished... just a few more stitches,” Kanato mutters to himself, his voice a tense, breathless whisper.
With a dramatic flourish, he cuts the thread and holds up his creation: a miniature, incredibly intricate gothic lolita dress, complete with tiny crinolines and a matching purple bonnet.
He turns to the bassinet, his expression instantly shifting from manic intensity to pure, star-struck adoration. “Wake up, my beautiful little angel,” Kanato coos, his voice dropping into a sweet, velvety purr as he gently pokes Miku’s chubby cheek.
“Look what Daddy made for you. You must try it on immediately. We are going to have a tea party, and you must look absolutely flawless.” Miku stirs, letting out a sharp, sudden wail as the abrupt awakening upsets her. Kanato’s face drops instantly.
His eyes darken, and his knuckles turn white as he clutches the tiny dress. “No, no, no! Why are you crying?! Do you hate it? Do you hate the dress I stayed up all night making for you?!” His voice rises dangerously, a tantrum bubbling right at the surface. “After all my hard work—“
Before he can spiral, you step fully into the room and softly call his name. Kanato snaps his head toward you, his expression a mix of defensive anger and absolute panic.
“She's broken! She won't stop crying! Tell her she has to wear it!” You calmly walk over, gently lifting the crying baby from the bassinet and rocking her against your chest. Within a few moments, Miku's cries subside into soft, rhythmic hiccups.
Kanato watches you, completely mesmerised, his anger evaporating into pure awe. He drops the dress onto the table and steps closer, looking at you and the baby as if you both hold the secrets to the universe.
“How... how did you do that?” he whispers, his voice trembling slightly as he reaches out a pale hand to touch Miku's tiny foot. He looks up at you through his thick lashes, a rare, vulnerable softness in his eyes.
“You really are amazing... You're the only one who can quiet her down. Hold her tight, okay? Don't let her cry like that again. It hurts my heart too much.”
The heavy, velvet curtains of the master bedroom are drawn shut, keeping the room in a warm, amber-lit twilight. Your body is still incredibly weak and sore from the delivery, and you had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When you stir awake, the bed feels unusually empty. You sit up slowly, expecting to see Laito pacing the floor or hovering over the bassinet, but a soft, rhythmic clicking sound draws your attention to the far corner of the room.
Laito is sitting on a plush chaise longue, his signature fedora tossed onto the floor. He has his shirt unbuttoned halfway, and wrapped snugly in a black silk scarf against his bare chest is little Genevieve.
In his hands is a vintage, glossy Polaroid camera.
Another photo slides out of the bottom of the camera. Laito catches it with his long fingers, waving it gently through the air to let the image develop. He sets it down on a growing pile of pictures beside him.
“Ah, you are just the most photogenic little creature, aren't you, my sweet little baby girl” Laito purrs, his voice an incredibly low, velvety whisper. He leans his head down, tracing his thumb along Genevieve’s tiny, smooth forehead.
“Look at those delicate little eyelashes. You inherited your mother's breathtaking eyes. Daddy is going to have to lock you away in a tower so no boy can lay their eyes on you” Genevieve lets out a tiny, soft yawn, stretching her microscopic arms up toward his face. Laito’s breath hitches.
The usual playful, mischievous smirk completely vanishes from his face, replaced by a look of sheer, trembling adoration. He carefully tilts his head, letting her tiny, fragile hand brush against his cheek. He closes his eyes, leaning into her touch with a level of pure, unfiltered reverence he rarely shows to the world.
“Ah... you're so warm,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly thick with emotion.
“To think something so innocent and pure could belong to someone as ruined as me... I'll destroy anyone who dares to bring darkness into your world, my little angel.”
He hears the rustle of the bedsheets as you shift, and his green eyes snap toward you. The brilliant, wicked smirk instantly flashes back onto his face, though his eyes remain incredibly soft.
“Oh, you're awake, my darling,” Laito coos, carefully picking up a handful of the developed Polaroids. He glides over to the edge of the bed, sitting down beside you while keeping Genevieve perfectly secure against his chest.
“Look at these. I’ve captured every single one of her expressions from the last hour. She has a smile that could manipulate a whole kingdom, just like her mother.” He slides a free arm around your waist, pulling you gently against his side, mindful of your sore body.
He presses a lingering, warm kiss to your temple. “Thank you for giving her to me,” he whispers against your skin, his playful tone dropping into something intensely sincere.
“You look exhausted, my love. Rest your head on my shoulder. Let’s just stay like this and stare at our perfect little creation a bit longer, hm?”.
The sharp, metallic scent of the mansion's private training room is entirely gone. Instead, the air carries the faint, comforting aroma of white roses and baby lotion. After waking up from a much-needed nap to a completely quiet bed, you follow a soft, rhythmic thumping noise down the hallway, your body still moving a bit slowly and gingerly after the delivery.
Stepping into the nursery, you stop dead in your tracks.
Subaru is sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the wall right next to the white crib. His silver hair falls forward, obscuring his face, but his broad shoulders are completely tense. In his lap, looking like a tiny snowflake against his dark clothes, is little Shira.
She is awake, her wide, dark eyes fixed entirely on her father. Subaru’s massive, pale hand is hovering over her, his fingers trembling slightly. He is trying to gently pat her tiny chest to soothe her to sleep, but he looks absolutely terrified that his strength will accidentally hurt her.
“Damn it... go to sleep, Shira,” Subaru grumbles under his breath, his voice a low, rough friction that lacks any real heat. “If you keep staring at me like that, I'm gonna... I'm gonna smash something.”
Despite his gruff words, he carefully curls his index finger. Shira immediately reaches up and wraps her entire, microscopic hand around it.
Subaru freezes completely. His eyes widen, and a brilliant, deep crimson blush rapidly spreads across his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. He bites his lower lip, staring down at the tiny grip with an expression of pure, overwhelming helplessness.
“You're too small,” he whispers, his voice suddenly cracking with a rare, raw vulnerability. “Why are you so small? If I hold you wrong, I'll break you... but if I let go, you'll cry. Just... don't grow up too fast, okay? The world out there is disgusting. I'm gonna keep you safe here. No one is ever gonna hurt you.”
Shira lets out a tiny, high-pitched coo and wiggles her toes.
Subaru lets out a heavy, shaky breath, leaning his head back against the wall. A soft, incredibly tender smile—one he would absolutely deny if anyone asked brushes past his lips.
He notices your shadow casting over the doorway and snaps his head up. The blush on his face deepens instantly, and he glares at you with a mix of embarrassment and defensive panic.
“W-What are you looking at?!” he huffs, turning his head away quickly, though he doesn't dare pull his finger out of Shira's grip. “I wasn't doing anything! She just... she wouldn't stop staring at me, alright? You're supposed to be resting. Why are you out of bed? Your body still hurts, doesn't it?”
His angry tone instantly softens into genuine concern as he looks back at you. He carefully uses his free hand to pat the empty space on the floor beside him.
“Get over here and sit down before you fall over,” Subaru mutters, looking down at the baby to avoid your eyes. “She... I think she wants her mom. And... I guess it's too quiet around here without you anyway.”
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