"Big Feelings, Little Me" Ghost x Reader x Price | Age regression | Soft caregivers | Teething comfort | Slice of life fluff

It started out as the perfect little day.

Ghost carried you on his hip through the toy aisle, one strong arm wrapped around your waist, while you clutched your new plushie—an elephant with floppy ears and a pink ribbon bow. “You like this one, baby?” he’d murmured in that low, syrupy tone only for you. You nodded with a sleepy smile and shoved the plush’s ear in your mouth. He chuckled, kissed your temple. “Course you do.”

Price handled the basket—full of apple juice boxes, a soft rainbow blanket, new pacis, bubble bath, and a teether shaped like a lion. “We spoil you rotten,” he teased, ruffling your hair. “Our good girl.”

You spent the afternoon at home: coloring with chubby crayons while Price braided your hair. Ghost built a pillow fort. You wore one of his shirts, so long it reached your knees, and giggled when they both crawled inside the fort with you. They read you a story. You napped across Ghost’s chest, drowsy, safe, with Price stroking your back until you drifted.

It was all so lovely.

Until bedtime.

That’s when the big feelings came.

You couldn’t explain it, but everything hurt. Your head. Your gums. Your tiny fingers kept curling into fists. You chewed your thumb raw. The paci didn’t help. Neither did the blanket or the lullabies or the stars on your ceiling.

You cried.

Softly at first. Then full-on sobbing. Hot tears and little hiccups.

“Daddy… ‘urts… gums ‘urt…”

Price was in before you could wail again. “Aw, darling,” he whispered, lifting you into his arms. “I’ve got you. Teething’s a beast, huh?”

You pressed your face into his neck, crying harder. You didn’t even know why it felt so big. So sore. So awful. It was like your whole body forgot how to be little.

Ghost appeared next, shirtless and sleepy-eyed, but alert the second he heard you. “That cry’s no joke,” he muttered, running a hand through your hair as Price gently rocked you. “Poor baby.”

“M’not sleepy,” you sniffled.

“That’s alright. You don’t have to be,” Price murmured, sitting down in the rocking chair. Ghost knelt by your side. “Teeth coming in?”

You nodded, lip quivering. “It hurts…”

Ghost kissed your wet cheek. “I know, lovie. We’re right here. Let’s help.”

Price offered you the lion teether, chilled from the fridge. You gnawed at it while Ghost wrapped you in a warm hoodie that smelled like both of them. They spoke in soft voices. Rubbed your back. Let you cry if you needed to. Let you snuggle when you were too tired to cry.

“Daddies are proud of you,” Price said softly, brushing your damp hair from your face.

“You’re doing so good, even with the ouchies,” Ghost added, holding your hand.

You stayed up late that night—cuddled between them in the big bed, all three of you wrapped in one quilt. Ghost let you lie on his chest while Price stroked your back and hummed something low and sweet.

It was almost morning when you finally slept.

And even then, Ghost kept you close. Price kissed your forehead once more.

“We got you, little one,” he whispered. “Always.”