You hadn’t expected shared custody over a shark plushie, but then again, you also hadn’t expected Eijiro Kirishima to nearly cry in the middle of Build-A-Bear.

You’d gotten him the gift for his birthday—because, of course, the man adored sharks like they were sacred. You picked the softest plushie they had, navy blue with a toothy smile and stubby fins, and you let him name it. He named it “Chompy.”

You figured that was that. Just a birthday gift. But then the employee handed you the adoption certificate. Eijiro looked at you with the softest expression and said, “We gotta sign this together, right? We’re both parents now.”

And now here you were, three weeks later, curled up with your boyfriend and a very plush Chompy on the couch, watching Jaws.

A dumb decision. You didn’t realize it would be that scary.

Kirishima was currently clutching Chompy like it was a real baby shark, hiding his face against its head, muscles tense like he was ready to launch into combat. The guy who could run headfirst into villains had just squeaked at a plastic shark on screen.

“You really had to pick this movie?” he whisper-yelled. “Babe, this isn’t a documentary!”

You flinched. “I thought it was educational! Sharks and stuff!”

“There was blood.”

You tried not to laugh. “I mean, yeah, a little…”

“Our child has seen things.”

Chompy was currently being shielded under Kirishima’s massive arms, his tiny plush eyes hidden from the screen.

“You traumatised our child for life,” he muttered.

You had to bite your lip to keep it together. “You’re the one shaking.”

“Sharks aren’t supposed to eat people! Sharks are cool! This is anti-shark propaganda!”

You gently tugged Chompy out of his grip and plopped him in your lap, patting his plush head like you were checking for psychological damage. “He’s okay. He’s resilient. It’s in his stuffing.”

Kirishima flopped backward, arm over his eyes. “You owe both of us cuddles. A lot of them. And put on Finding Nemo. We need to find something more age appropriate.”