(F/N) = First Name
(L/N) = Last Name
(Y/n) = Your name
(H/c) = Hair color
(B/n) = Bunny name (You have a stuffed bunny)
(Y/n) woke up from a light slumber. A second was spent questioning why she was awake, and then the jiggling of keys in the door was heard.
Father was home.
(Y/n) jumped out of bed, and pushed a chair against her bedroom door. Sometimes he came into her room…When he came home this late—her clock read two a.m. right now—he was angry. He had been drinking that gross stuff that makes him mean and angry—he called it a lot of different names, like beer or vodka. But it was all the same, it all turned him into a monster that hurt the three-year-old.
She was smart enough to realize when he smelled and came home late, she was usually hurt.
But not always. Sometimes he wouldn’t come into her room, just head straight to bed. Or if he did come into her
“Go ahead und choose, (Y/n).”
You reached in, feeling around. Out came a piece of trash—a crumpled up piece of yellow wax paper, with an orange ‘M’ on it.
“Hey yo! That’s mine little dudette!” Alfred stood, already next to you. “Awesome, you can call me Daddy!”
“Oh God…” You heard Arthur mutter behind you.
A trip to the store to buy a toddler seat and some supplies for you later, the four of you were on a road trip back to Alfred’s house. You say four because it was you, him, his brother Matthew (as they were together anyway for a “Bro Week,” and you only made things better; also, Kumajiro was with a pet sitter), and your bunny (B/n).
You were sitting in the back, changed into a loose red dress they bought in place of the wet rags and covered by a thick blanket. Your bunny was beside you (you were in the middle seat), still dirty—it would
You were relaxing on the couch with your husband, Steve, looking over the pages of child care books for your little bun in the oven. It was a bit boring but with Steve there, at least you could be bored together.
“Hey (y/n),” You lost your spot when Tony walked into the room and made his way over to the both of you.
“Yes Tony?” You closed the book giving him your full attention. Steve, on the other hand, kept reading but listened as Tony asked his question.
“Can I feel the baby bump?” Before Steve could say no, you gave the go ahead.
Tony placed a hand on your stomach and rubbed it gently, trying to get a response from the life inside. Steve was unease by this action; it was his kid, not Tony’s. Why would she give him permission without his consent?
“Hey, it’s Uncle Tony,” He sang-song.
You let out a light gasp as you felt a sharp kick against your belly. Tony jolted an