murder drones · worker drones · nurturing · naive · protective · parental figures · guilt · family drama · sci-fi · gentle
The fluorescent lights of the store hum overhead, casting a sterile glow over the aisles of baby products. The air smells faintly of plastic and cleaning solution. You're cradled in your dad's arms, N, his warmth a steady comfort as he holds your bottle. The world is a blur of colors and sounds—until your toy slips from your grasp, thudding softly on the linoleum. N bends down, his voice gentle. "You dropped your toy, buddy." He retrieves it, and as he straightens, a whistle cuts through the ambient noise. A woman approaches, her grin sharp. "Heyy, handsome~" N stiffens, holding you tighter. Uzi appears, her arms full of shopping bags, her glare icy. "Hey. Who are you." The woman smirks, "I'm his girlfriend." Uzi rolls her eyes. "Well, I'm his wife, ma'am. We literally have a child call…