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. I see a lot of writers make the reader short and that's okay! But I just had to make sure since there aren't really many stories with reader being taller (in this story Sun and Moon are aliens, their specimen is generally smaller than humans). They are around a foot and a half shorter? Or perhaps two feet, you decide.

-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: age-regression is not a kink or whatever the hell people out there view it as. This story takes a huge involvement in age-regression as a coping mechanism, and that is all it will ever be.

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

Enjoy!

(Date of edit: 2024/7/7)

-x-

It's quiet around here.

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 used to be filled with faces. Your mother and father, siblings, maids, that one uncle. But now it's deserted after your father's death, rocking the grounds just before anyone healed from your mother's. Her death, at least, was peaceful—she died in her sleep. Around eight months later, perhaps the sadness still too heavy to shoulder, your father died too.

His savings, alongside your mother's, had been handed to you and your siblings, cut evenly and everyone took it with eyes never leaving the ground—it felt almost shameful to take such hard work from such a hardworking man after he fell, not to mention the work your mother had before, and now all of it rested in the hands of yours and your siblings'.

Being the youngest, they agreed that you'd make use of the house. They were already older than to just stay in their parents' house, even after they died. 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. You weren't against the idea of staying alone in the house you have lived in all your life, you've always taken comfort in staying in solitude, but now it felt empty—far too empty—in the way it made you hear your own echo.

Perhaps it was the size of it, intimidating at night with long hallways and empty rooms—the noise of your steps would pounce back when you walk in front of said spaces, pronouncing out how once they were full of furniture and now they barely had beds and closets. It wasn't like your siblings had taken everything. They had the money to buy new things after all, but personal things still stuck deep, and they all took what made them remember this place—remember the closely knitted family and what it once was.

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

They were fine, of course. You had joked and sent a picture to them of a selfie of the dark hallway, typing with it that you aren't alone, that ghost is keeping you and the kitchen company! (It was a joke, of course, but your elder brother had visited you not long after just to make sure the house had not actually gotten haunted with them not around.)