ᴍᴜʟᴛɪғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ | ᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴡ ғɪᴄs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ɴᴏᴛᴇs

Shooting star ( Ineffable hubbys x baby female! Reader)

Summary: Little Star first word is...

Warning: IT'S INEFFABLE HUBBYS 😘💋, baby reader, cuteness overload, fluff, blurbs, Dada is Crowley, Papa is Aziraphale, curse words (from Crowley), Star first word, love,

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Just for once Crowley please, if you're going to swear for once, don't do it in front of Star or me. It's not nice" Aziraphale scolded as he walked to the front of the bookstore to serve customers.

"ngah! Angel she doesn't know how to talk yet! let alone swearing" Crowley replied as he tailed Aziraphale from behind.

This action was seen by some new customers. Regular customers were used to the bickering of the two couples. It just happened every day.

Aziraphale glared at him. "oh please, she's at the age where babies learn to speak simple words. So of course she'll pick up on what you said in front of her" Aziraphale poked his index finger at Crowley's chest. "besides if you taught her to say Dada or Papa that would be appreciated" he added.

Crowley blinked down at the finger poking his chest, then raised both hands in surrender, his expression a mix of mock hurt and mischief.

"Alright, alright! No swearing in front of the precious star, got it," he said, stepping back dramatically as if Aziraphale's reprimand physically wounded him. "But for the record, you cursed first last Tuesday when you spilled raspberry jam on your waistcoat."

"That was damnation, and it doesn't count," Aziraphale huffed, smoothing the front of his vest as he turned back to the small line of customers waiting patiently by the counter. "It's quite biblical."

Crowley leaned closer with a grin, whispering, "Tell that to Star when her first word is 'damnation.'"

Aziraphale froze mid-step, shooting him a horrified look.

"You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't," Crowley agreed easily, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "But you might."

The regulars chuckled under their breath as they browsed the shelves, clearly amused by the latest episode of what one elderly customer once called 'Heaven and Hell: Domestic Edition.'

From behind the counter, a soft babble came from the pram tucked safely between the till and the bookshelf labeled Early Modern Literature.

You gurgled, then squealed. "Duh-da!"

Both men froze.

Aziraphale's eyes widened with delighted surprise. "Did she just-?"

"Duh-da!" you said again, reaching one tiny hand out of your blanket cocoon, wriggling with joy.

"She said it! She said Dada! Did you hear that, angel? She said Dada!" Crowley was practically glowing, crouching beside the pram with a grin wider than the gates of Hell.

Aziraphale came to his side, beaming just as brightly despite himself. "I did. Oh, my dear—she did!"

You giggled, utterly pleased with the fuss you'd caused.

Crowley leaned closer and whispered to you, voice uncharacteristically soft, "You're a genius, you know that?"

You blew a spit bubble in reply.

From across the shop, one of the regulars smiled and called out, "First words, eh? Don't worry, lads. Just make sure her second word isn't 'bloody.'"

Crowley groaned. "No promises."

Aziraphale sighed with exaggerated patience. "Crowley..."

"I mean - no thank you, good sir!" he corrected quickly, then muttered under his breath, "Bloody hell..."

"Crowley!"

"I mean heavenly puddle of roses!"

You squealed again, then bounced slightly in your pram. Your hands flailed with excitement as both Aziraphale and Crowley beamed down at you.

"Go on then, darling," Aziraphale cooed, tapping your nose gently. "Say it again for Papa, hmm? Dada or Papa, either would be lovely."

You blinked slowly at him. Then you opened your mouth, eyes twinkling, and cheerfully announced:

"Buggah!"

Silence.

Dead silence.

Even the bell above the door, which usually jangled with every draft, seemed to be holding its breath.

Aziraphale's smile froze. His head swiveled slowly, very slowly, towards Crowley, whose mouth had dropped open in a mixture of awe, horror, and a growing, very badly timed laugh.

Crowley turned slightly away and covered his mouth with one hand, shaking his shoulders. "I-I swear, I didn't teach her that one. That's not even mine!"

Aziraphale rounded on him, hands on his hips, eyes wide and scandalized. "Bugger, Crowley?! Really? That's her second word?!"

You clapped your hands proudly. "Buggah!"

A customer nearby snorted and quickly pretended to be browsing cookbooks.

"Angel," Crowley choked, barely managing to keep the laugh from escaping. "She-she says it so cheerfully! Like she's announcing the Queen."

"This isn't funny!" Aziraphale snapped, though his lips were twitching against his will. "This is language development, and now she's going to be saying it in public! Can you imagine what the nuns at the park will say?"

Crowley smirked. "If they're smart, they'll say 'bless her little rebellious heart.'"

"Crowley." Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're angels. Or, well, one of us still is. We're supposed to be setting an example."

"She's half-demonic, angel," Crowley said, now crouching to ruffle your little tufts of hair. "You didn't think her first sentence was going to be a sermon, did you?"

"Buggah Chest!" you cheered.

Aziraphale groaned into his hand.

From behind a shelf, someone whispered, "Ten quid says her third word is 'hellfire.'"

Crowley's grin widened. "Now that's got a ring to it."

Aziraphale stood up sharply. "That's it. No more time with you alone, Crowley. We're doing alternating shifts. I'll teach her poetry and kindness, and you can keep your - your - colorful vocabulary to yourself."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "You say that like she doesn't prefer me."

"Buggah!" You chimed in again, looking straight at him.

Crowley's eyes sparkled. "See? She does!"

Aziraphale threw his hands in the water. "We're doomed."

You giggled like you'd just solved world peace.

And outside the bookshop, Soho kept moving - entirely unaware that the daughter of an angel and a demon had just started her career in vocabulary... with a curse word.