My Baby (Sun/Moon x Reader)

Blue

NOTE:

Hello! Before you start I want to make a few points!

-Sun and Moon are shorter/smaller than reader but they are NOT children; in this story Sun and Moon are aliens, their specimen is generally smaller than humans.

-There are NO sexual themes here. There are kisses and cuddles and all the mushy stuff but nothing sexual.

-And, just to keep in mind: This story takes a huge involvement in age-regression as a coping mechanism.

That's all for now! I'll let ya all know if I add anything else.

Enjoy!

(Date of edit: 2024/7/7)
(New edit: 2026/6/4)

-x-

It's quiet around here.

It has been quiet for some time now.

No amount of listening to music in your headphones could solve it. No amount of calling your friends or siblings does either. You aren't even sure why you stayed in this house after everyone either left or died.

It was as if your whole being was rooted to this place. The memories leaked through the cracks of wooden doors of everyone that used to live here, and you couldn't let go.

It used to be filled with faces. Your mother and father, siblings, maids, that one uncle. But now, it became deserted after your father's death, rocking the grounds just before anyone healed from your mother's.

Her death, at the very least, was peaceful: she died in her sleep. Around eight months later, perhaps the sadness still too heavy to bear, your father died too.

His savings, alongside your mother's, had been handed to you and your siblings, courtesy to their will. Their work, the company they spent their whole life building to become its famous self now, had their names stripped from it and, in its place, yours and your siblings' names were impeded.

Your parents were gone and you felt like your life was put on hold. Paused in the face of grief that filled in the walls of the home they spent so much on building, brick by heavy brick. Gone was the peace of knowing they were there whenever you needed them.

The air had become stiff ever since then.

Being the youngest, your siblings agreed that you'd make use of the house. Your eldest brother, who had taken the position of the job your father once had, had paid the maids and ushered them out—no more people living in such a large house to be taken care of.

And, one by one, you watched them leave. Perhaps staying here was too bitter, you understood, and were not upset for their decision, but now it felt empty—far too empty—in the way it made you hear your own echo.

Perhaps it was also the size of it. Intimidating at night with long hallways and empty rooms—the noise of your steps would pounce back whenever you walk in the hallways, pronouncing its unusual emptiness.

It always made you remember the closely knitted family and what it once was. This may be the reason why you refused to leave. You wouldn't allow for this house to become abandoned.

At least your siblings called from time to time, asking how things were.

They were fine, of course. Putting aside the painfully slowly fading grief, that is.