Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

**While some of these are in my Dream Complex AU, you can request things for on the SMP or just irl (specify this in your request if you want it in the SMP, irl, etc.)
Will Do:
-Cuddling and kisses (forehead, cheeks, nose)
-Anything platonic
-Romantic relationships between cc’s who are adult and comfortably with shipping
Won’t Do:
-Smut of anykind
-Any type of non-con or explicit abuse toward littles
-Underage characters being shipped with each other or adults
-Shipping of anyone uncomfortable with being shipped
-Anything to do with diapers (sorry, but I’m just not comfortable writing that!!)

Ideas:

-Karl and Sapnap are both kind of edging on little space, able to be big but ultimately both feel rather small. So they cuddle on Sapnap’s bed, blankies and stuffies surrounding them while they comfortably snuggle with each other. (Littles! Karl & Sapnap)

-Tubbo and Tommy have been stressed all week with school, and finally, it’s Saturday. To de-stress, they go to Tommy’s room, set it up to be the perfect playroom, and decide to spend an entire weekend in littlespace. (Littles! Tommy & Tubbo, CG! Phil)

-Phil and Wilbur are out shopping, and Wilbur quickly finds himself distracted in the toy aisle, swinging between big and little headspace. He loses track of Phil, and when he realizes this, he drops deep into littlespace, so is now little and lost. (Little! Wilbur, CG! Phil)

-Niki is baking cookies to sell, and Fundy wants to help! While Niki tries to make cookies, however, Fundy is deep in little space, and is adamant he needs to eat the dough every two minutes. (Little! Fundy, CG! Niki)

-Sam is babysitting Purpled, and Sam decides they should color and draw, since it calms Purpled down. Every time Purpled draws something, Sam acts as though it is a work of art, a masterpiece. (Little! Purpled, CG! Sam)

-Quackity wants to play dress-up and have a tea party with all his stuffies and Schlatt. Ever the sweet CG, Schlatt puts on a pink poofy dress and plays along, talking with Quackity’s stuffies and drinking pretend tea. (Little! Quackity, CG! Schlatt)

-Sapnap and Dream are in little space, and after exhausting George for a few hours, he suggests they build a pillow fort. Sapnap, instead, says they should build a pillow castle- a fort but bigger. So, they do. (Littles! Sapnap & Dream, CG! George)

-Tommy is in little space, but stubbornly wants to be a big boy. When Techno comes home, however, he falls deeper. So Tommy has to try his hardest to make sure Techno doesn’t know he’s little. (Little! Tommy, CG! Techno)

**NO LONGER TAKING REQUESTS!!! CURRENTLY WRITING A LOT OF THEM SO I’LL OPEN REQUESTS IN A FEW DAYS**

Chapter Text

Fighting had never been Wilbur’s strong suit. Techno was the warrior of the family, Tommy was always fighting someone due to his temper and loud personality. Wilbur was the one to keep the peace and, if need be, spoke words that hurt more than his fists did.

But Dream had sparked a rage in him that he needed to kill, the want to hurt him like he hurt them was overwhelming, suffocating. So, even though Wilbur knew it was bad, he hadn’t regressed in months to avoid being weak while in the crosshairs of the enemy.

“You’re stressed, Wilby, you need to regress.” Tommy says, the nickname comforting, but purposeful. Wilbur almost slips right then, which is exactly what Tommy wants, eyes blinking dazedly before he frowns at his younger brother.

“I can’t, Tommy. If Dream or one of his goons catches me while I’m little, we’re done.” Wilbur says, hand subconsciously going toward his mouth, thumb itching to go inside his mouth, to comfort him. Before he realizes what he’s doing, and throws his hand from his face in a quick motion.

Tommy shakes his head, fed up with his brother. “This is ridiculous, Wilbur! You can’t just- we’re here!” Tommy yells, “We can protect you while you’re in little space!” He stands up from the bed they’d been sitting on.

“If you can’t trust us, then I don’t know what else to do for you.” He says, knowing it’s wrong but so angry and tired and worried about his brother. Tommy doesn’t know what else to do to help.

Grabbing his uniform’s hat, he glances over at Wilbur. His older brother looks on the verge of tears. Wilbur looks like if stress was a person, he’d be the catalyst.

Before the guilt can set in, Tommy leaves Wilbur in his office-bedroom. He can’t ignore Tubbo, the other little in L’Manburg, due to Wilbur’s self-destructive behavior.

When Tommy leaves, with an angry slam of the door to close it, Wilbur lets out a small, shaking sob. His brother is just trying to help, his mind whispers, you’re being difficult. Wilbur brings his legs to his chest, pressing his forehead to his knees to hide his face. He wants to regress- back before the revolution, it was commonplace to see Wilbur small, around 4-6, wandering about the SMP. That was months ago.

He stumbles over to his desk, rubbing his teary eyes harshly as he grabs parchment and a quill. The ink is already set out, so Wilbur dips the feather quill’s writing edge in the deep, black abyss-like squid ink, and sets to writing.

Dear Phil,

You need to come to the SMP. Tommy’s mad at me, and I don’t know what to do. The war has been raging on for a few months, now, and I need your advice. I don’t know what else I can do to help, and it’s been so stressful. Please help.

Sincerely,
Wilbur

It’s short, but to the point. The opposite of Wilbur’s usual letters. He hopes the shortness of it piques Phil’s interest, and gets across the urgency of the situation. Grabbing an envelope, he stuffs the letter into the thick paper-made envelope.

Wilbur goes to his window, allowing one of his messenger birds to land on his finger. He ties the envelope to the small bird’s leg, “To the Antarctic Empire, girl. To Phil.” He says, running a finger along the back of the bird gently before she flies off.

He watches her for a few moments before she’s so small and far away that Wilbur can barely see her against the dark night sky. Then he turns toward his bed, blinking tiredly as he walks over. The urge to cry is overwhelmingly strong, but Wilbur refuses to break down. Not until Phil gets here, and can help him figure things out.

But even then, a whimper escapes him as Wilbur cuddles into his woolen blankets, trying desperately to fall asleep for the night.

When he does, it’s to the music of his own muffled cries.

***

It’s been a week since Wilbur sent his letter to his father. At this point, he thinks Phil just isn’t coming. Hadn’t deemed him important enough to leave his Empire for.

Tommy hasn’t talked to him since that night, hadn’t even had an outburst during meetings. Wilbur is starting to feel hollow. He thinks, absently, that not even regressing would fix him at this point.

Wilbur bites his lips harshly, peeling off the skin until he can taste the metallic taste of blood. He is walking to the front of the walls- he’s on nightshift tonight, feeling the cold wind nip at him, not enough to hurt but just there enough to keep him grounded.

Someone is at the entrance of the walls. Wilbur tenses, fingers twitching toward his sword. “Show yourself!” He yells, expecting the cocky voice of Dream to call back at him.

Instead, he hears, “Wilbur?” And the voice sounds suspiciously like Phil. He blinks, eyes widening as his dad comes into view, looking worried. Wilbur stares at Phil, almost feeling like if he looks away Phil would disappear.

“Dad?” He asks, speech slurred as his mind starts to slip in the presence of his primary caregiver. A smile comes to Phil’s face, and Wilbur feels bubbly as Phil starts to come toward him. He giggles, just teetering on being little. “Daddy!” Wilbur yells, giggling when Phil picks him up in his arms.

Phil is shorter than him, but beefier, stronger, and since Wilbur is so lanky it’s rather easy for Phil to pick him up.

“Hey, baby.” Phil says comfortingly, looking him over. “Let’s get you ready for bed, yeah?” He asks, gently motioning to Wilbur’s uncomfy uniform.

Wilbur nods, pouting. He wants jammies, and his orca stuffie. But he makes the mistake of looking over at the walls, and immediately he wants to be big again. Wilbur is the leader of L’Manburg, he has a job to do. He struggles in Phil’s grip, shaking his head, “No, no, no!” He says, hitting Phil’s shoulder.

The older man looks incredibly startled by Wilbur’s sudden change in demeanor, and grabs the hand he’d been hitting him with. Wilbur whines, struggles intensifying, “Gotta be big! Nightshift watch!”

At his explanation, Phil shakes his head, starting toward his office. Wilbur pouts, hitting his head against Phil’s shoulder. “No! Daddy,” He softly hits Phil’s chest.

“Stop hitting me, Wil. You wrote to me saying you needed help, and I can already tell you haven’t regressed in a while. We’re starting there.” Phil says.

Ever the brat, Wilbur pushes against Phil’s chest again, but makes no other attempt to get out of his grasp. Phil taps Wilbur on his back, rubbing his back consolingly. Wilbur feels his eyes droop as he lays his head against Phil’s shoulder.

“Phil?” Tommy’s voice comes from behind him, where Phil is facing. “What’re you doing here? Wait, Wilby?” Tommy asks, voice going soft when he addresses Wilbur.

He nods into Phil’s shoulder. The next time Tommy talks, he sounds so relieved, Wilbur feels like a dick. “That’s great. That’s…” He trails off, “Great. Thank you, Phil. I’ll take over his shift. Just get him to relax.” Tommy says.

Phil nods subtly, “Course. Thanks, Toms. I’ll see you in the morning.” He says. The conversation is over, then, and Wilbur is carried to his bedroom.

“You want jammies, Wil?” Phil asks, smiling as he sets Wilbur down on his bed. Wilbur bites his lip as he nods, looking over at the closet with all his clothes inside of it. Phil follows his gaze, and walks over to the wooden draw-set. “Which ones?” He asks with a smile as he shows off two of Wilbur’s favorite jammies.

Wilbur puffs his cheeks out as he looks between them, uncertain. “Want those ones.” He mumbles, pointing to the soft yellow Pikachu onesie. He knows it to be really soft, and comfy to play in before bed.

“Good choice,” Phil praises, putting the other pajamas back in the closet and walking over to help Wilbur into the night clothes. “Arms up!” Phil says, smiling as Wilbur throws his arms up to get his shirt off.

The jacket and shirt come off easily, and though Wilbur has wiggle out of his own pants, Phil is quick to get the onesie on him. The hood has a Pikachu face, and Phil pulls it over Wilbur’s eyes playfully.

Giggles escape the little, and Wilbur pushes the hood off his head, yelling a childishly offended, “Hey!” That comes out between childlike giggles. Phil feels his heart swell with joy looking at the boy, watching as he pouts up at him, but then his face breaks into a giddy smile.

“Do you want your stuffies?” Phil asks, glancing over at the pile of stuffed animals in the room.

The little nods excitedly, eagerly making grabby hands at the stuffies. “And a paci?” Phil asks, handing over Wilbur’s orca plush. Wilbur cuddles into it, cooing at the small stuffed animal like it’s alive. At the mention of his pacifier, Wilbur squeals, nodding.

“Mhm!” He hums, watching as Phil grabs the pacifier from the top of the dresser, and handing it gently over to Wilbur. Wilbur waves his hands happily, popping it into his mouth and biting at the nib.

“Tank you…” Wilbur mumbles, eyes drooping as he cuddles deeper into the plushie held in his arms.

Nodding gently, Phil boops him on the nose, “You’re welcome, baby.” He says. Wilbur goes cross-eyed looking at his nose in wonder, giggling.

“Are you tired?” He asks, petting Wilbur’s curls, carding thick fingers gently through the dark brown locks. The little nods, pulling Phil’s hand from his hair and looking over the fingers, playing with them.

“Okay, baby. You want me to read you a book?” Phil asks, pressing a kiss to Wilbur’s hair. Wilbur leaned into the touches, and shakes his head, pulling on Phil. Regularly, he would’ve been able to pull Phil on the bed, but in his small mental state, Wilbur struggles to pull him down.

Phil laughs lightly at the boy’s struggling attempts, and mercifully lays down on the bed with the little. “Cuddles?” Wilbur asks, looking at him with big, beautiful brown eyes. Phil smiles at him, nodding, opening his arms invitingly, willing Wilbur to crash into his chest and snuggle.

And he does just that, burying his face deep in Phil’s chest. “Tank you for coming,” Wilbur mumbles sleepily, ear pressed against his chest as to listen to his heart. It beats steadily, comforting and lulling him to close his eyes.

“No problem, baby,” Phil says, pressing a kiss to Wilbur’s hair.

Chapter Text

Tommy prided himself on many things. Some things less than others, but for the most part, he was pretty awesome.

If there was one thing Tommy really, really prided himself on, however, was how well he hide his age regression. He had hid it for months, now, slowly but steadily collecting little gear and items, all the while keeping it secret from his family.

The thing was, though, Tommy was now really sick.

Head pounding, like his brain was physically trying to leave his skull, Tommy squeezes his eyes shut. A whimper escapes past his lips as he buries his face into his soft pillow. Last night, he’d felt fine, if a little more tired than usual, and in his sleepy haze put on his light blue cloud patterned onesie.

The comforting clothing almost makes him slip right then, but Tommy has school today. His brothers had come home from college for a few days, on a small break because of Covid. Tommy was not so lucky.

Still, thoughts his big self would usually never have were plaguing his mind. wan’ Papa, sippy, cuddles! The little thoughts whined, his smaller self even more weak when in this much pain.

Rolling over slowly, Tommy blearily looks over at his closed door, whines involuntarily escaping his mouth. Too small, wan’ cuddles! “Papa,” He whines, tears nipping at his eyes. Tommy wants Wilby, Techie, Papa-

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Tommy knows none of his family know about his little space. Fear twists in his tummy, which feels painfully empty. What if they don’t like it? What if they make fun of me? Suddenly, big Tommy was back at full force at the distressing thoughts.

He rubs harshly at his eyes, for a moment seeing the colors, which makes his little self peak out, but only for a second before Tommy is shoving the urge back down. But now he’s scared, and stressed, and in so much pain, all of the things that makes his little self wanna come out and cry about.

Stumbling from his bed, Tommy only whines a little bit before opening the door, ignoring all his screaming thoughts about his onesie and just looking for relief, in the form of advil, and, just to appease little him, a cup of milk.

“Hey, Tommy-” Wilby- Wilbur says, pausing to look at what Tommy’s wearing. Tommy flushes a little, looking up at his older brother. “What are you wearing?” Wilbur asks, looking confused.

Despite knowing that Wilbur probably wouldn’t bully him, Tommy whimpers a little. It’s a mix of embarrassment and the aching pain in his head and, honestly, all of his body. He just wants to go back to sleep. and cuddles! cookies! The little thoughts call back to him.

Wilbur looks concerned now. “Hey, you okay?” He asks, brows furrowing. Tommy, slipping quickly, shakes his head with freshly teary eyes and a small, pain filled cry. He crashes against Wilby’s chest, wrapping his arms around his brother’s waist as he buries his face in Wilbur’s shoulder. Concerned, Wilbur puts a hand on Tommy’s forehead.

“Oh my god, Tommy, you’re burning up!” Wilbur yelps, pulling his hand back. Tommy could sob from that- it was so cool on his too hot skin.

His brother’s, rather loud, words cause his head to pang, and he cries from the sudden sharp pain. The words, however, also draw out his dad and Techno from their respective rooms. “Dad, come over here, Tommy’s really sick.” Wilbur says, voice carefully lowered as to not make Tommy’s headache worse.

Worry crosses Papa’s face, and Tommy just wants to feel better. Eyes blurry with unshed tears, Tommy’s face scrunches, much like a toddler’s would if it were about to start having a tantrum.

Phil feels recognition fill him. Tommy was a little. Small, too, if judging by the fact that he was acting like a pained two year old. “Oh, Tommy, come here, baby.” He says, walking closer to where Wilbur was practically cradling Tommy.

Papa! Tommy internally cheers, babbling cheerfully as Phil picks him up like he was just a small child. Confusion flits on the faces of Techno and Wilbur, but Phil pays no mind to them as he tucks Tommy’s head into the crook of his shoulder and neck. He makes a soft cooing sound, carding his fingers through the small boy’s soft golden hair.

“Hey, baby,” Phil starts gently, “You don’t feel too good, huh?” He asks, voice low and comforting. Tommy shakes his head, still buried in Phil’s shoulder. “Lets get you some medicine, yeah? Make you feel all better.” He says.

Tommy pouts, pulling his head back a little. “Don’t wan’ medicine.” He says, words slurred a little and childish. Phil laughs lightly, cupping Tommy’s face, “You have to, bubba. How else are you gonna feel better?” He asks, walking Tommy over to the spare cupboard they keep as a medicine cabinet in the kitchen.

Looking as if he’s think really hard on the question, Tommy brightens with a smile that only children can make so happy. “Cuddles!” He cheers, then winces when his head pangs again, reminding him full force of how much pain he’s in.

Techno and Wilbur, fed up with being pointedly ignored and very much confused as to why their little brother is acting like a child, come into the kitchen.

“What is happening?” Wilbur asks exasperatedly. Tommy makes grabby hands at his older brother, eyes sparkling with childish innocence. Phil opens the medicine cabinet, and grabs the aspirin, reading the label quickly before dispensing two tablets onto the counter.

“Come on, baby, you gotta take the medicine so you can feel better.” He says kindly.

Tommy sticks his tongue out, looking back at his dad. “No medicine, yucky!” Tommy whines. Phil’s face softens, though his arms start to strain from holding the small boy.

Setting the little down, though still wrapping a strong arm around the little boy’s waist, Phil walks him over to the fridge. “Tommy is an age regressor,” Phil starts, glancing back at his older sons. He softens a little more when he sees their obvious confusion.

“When he’s stressed out or sick, or just wants to be small, his mind regresses to a younger age.” He says, grabbing the milk from the fridge. He holds it to Tommy, “See? You can drink your milk with your medicine so it doesn’t taste bad.” He coos.

Still pouting, even as Phil pours his milk into a cup, Tommy watches Wilbur grab the medicine and gently hand it to him. Tommy whines, turning his head, “No! Wan’ sippy!” He says, stomping his foot on the tile. “Techno, go to his room and look, please.” Phil says, not very surprised with the fact that Tommy had sippies and, most likely, other little gear.

Techno nods, going to the youngest brother’s room quickly. The pink haired man searched the room with a quick eye scan before spotting a box, just barely peaking out from under Tommy’s bed. He pulls it out the rest of the way, and opens the lid.

His eyes go wide at the amount of pacifiers and and sippy cups, stuffed animals and other such baby toys. Guilt pangs at him- Tommy had been doing this all alone? He couldn’t imagine being that small and being alone with no one to take care of him.

He grabs a light blue sippy cup, a cow stuffed animal, and a pacifier. Techno practically runs back out of the room, not even bothering to push the box back under the bed.

By now, Tommy is once again being held in Phil’s arms, and Techno, if he didn’t have an image to uphold, would’ve cooed at the sight. He places the sippy down on the counter, letting Phil pour the milk into the cup and screw the lip back on. Tommy’s headache must’ve gotten worse, because he’s whining and whimpering into Phil’s neck.

“Here, bubba. Take your medicine.” Phil says gently, holding the tablets to Tommy’s lips. Hesitantly, Tommy swallows the first tablet, sips his milk quickly, and repeats the actions with the second pill. “Good job,” Phil praises, “You did so good.”

Tommy giggles at the kind words, “Cuddles?” He asks, looking at all of them. Wilbur beams at him, taking him gently from Phil’s arms and walking him over to the couch.

Sitting down first, Wilbur sets the little on his lap, carefully grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. Tommy holds the sippy cup tightly, drinking the milk with heavy eyes. “What do you wanna watch?” Wilbur asks gently.

“Daniel Tiger!” Tommy cheers, giggling. Techno holds the stuffie and pacifier in his arms as he walks with Phil into the living room. “Here ya’ go, Toms.” Techno says, shuffling as he hands the toy and pacifier to the little.

Tommy beams at his older brother, eyes squinting a little with how big his smile is. “T’ank you!” He squeals, making grabby hands at both items until they’re in his hold. “What is his name?” Phil asks, grinning a little as he motions to the stuffed cow plushie.

Techno sits on the chair next to the couch, and Phil sits down next to Wilbur on the couch. Tommy holds the plushie out to his dad, grinning widely, “It’s Henry!” He says, playing the cow’s short, stuffed legs absently.

The medicine seems to take affect, then, making the little sleepier. Tommy leans against Wilbur’s chest, eyes drooping as he watches the TV, dozy. He feels so much better than he did this morning.

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be a simple trip. Just an easy trip to the Nether to collect some quartz, maybe some glowstone powder, or some potion supplies. But this is the DreamSMP, and nothing is ever ‘simple’ or ‘easy’. Hell, Niki doesn’t even know the meaning of the words. Which is evident, by the fact that they’d been wandering about the Nether for the past two fucking hours.

Mumbling curses to herself quietly, as to not let Ranboo hear the harsh, rather rude words, Niki makes her way through soul sand, painstakingly slow. She hates this stuff with a burning passion. Ranboo is humming an incoherent song behind her.

Finally, he says something. “Are we almost there?” He asks, like a petulant child. Really, Niki doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, but they’ve been in the Nether for so long she thinks shes going crazy, and she just wants to get home and sleep. The heat is getting to her.

A huff escapes her, and she turns around to glare at him. Ranboo is probably just bored, and though Niki can relate, she’s trying to find the Nether Portal, and she can’t. And it’s driving her insane. It’s almost as if the damn thing disappeared, and Niki is so tired of walking through this dry, overwhelming heat.

“No.” She says through gritted teeth, looking over her shoulder, tightening her grip on her sword so hard her knuckles go white in annoyance. Luckily, both of them were dressed in diamond armor, safe from most Nether mobs.

Adjusting her helmet, Niki looks forward again, eyes narrowed to keep them from watering.

Ranboo glances over to where the lava lake bubbles, to right. As part ghast, he’s not very affected by heat, but still, he’s worried. Niki is human, through and through, and Ranboo can already tell she’s getting snappy. His little self is rearing its head, too, prodding at his thoughts with wishes of blankies and juice boxes. Little him was always four to five years old, wanting to cuddle and play games. Ranboo struggles to keep a leash on it. He just has to wait.

Niki watches their surroundings with vigilant eyes, taking everything in. She’s close, so close- she has to be, because if she’s not, she might have a breakdown and start crying.

A piglin comes from behind a mountain of netherrack, decorated with lava spurts and fire spots, shrieking its high pitched squeals incessantly. God damnit, Niki thinks, clenching her jaw in annoyance, feeling a headache start to form behind her eyes. This is just what she needs right now.

She groans. Before immediately regretting it when the tall, muscular piglin sets its sights on Ranboo and her. Niki freezes for a split second, before jumping into action when the piglin starts to rush toward them.

Grabbing her sword, she swipes at the Nether mob. It’s squeals loudly in pain, its hooved hands scratching at them. Ranboo rushes to her side, trying to help, but he only gets scratched on the arm, deep into the muscle. Ranboo screams in pain as the blood steadily oozes from the wound, the normally pale white skin around it an angry, irritated red.

Fear and anger twists in Niki’s bones, striking her to her very core, and she stabs the piglin in the chest with enough force to knock it back. It only gives a half cut off shriek before it disappears into a puff of smoke.

Tears are gushing from Ranboo’s eyes, which only makes the skin on his face burn. He lets out a sob, crashing into little space within seconds. Niki rushes to hold him up right, catching him just a few seconds before he falls to the netherrack floor.

“Hey, hey, Boo, just calm down, kiddo,” Niki says consolingly, making sure to quickly rid Ranboo’s face of tears.

Ranboo whines and whimpers, tucking his head deep into Niki’s neck. He’s so tired. “Stuffies,” He whines, gripping her shirt. Niki pets his head carefully, carding her fingers through his hair lovingly. “I know, baby, you’re so sleepy, huh?” She asks.

He nods against her neck. “Stuffies. Bunny.” He pouts, pulling back slightly and crossing his arms. In any other situation, Niki would have laughed. Now, she just nods, thinking hard on whether or not she packed any of Ranboo’s little gear. It was rare she didn’t, but this was supposed to be a quick trip. She couldn’t remember.

“Let me check, honey.” She says, moving back away from Ranboo to open her inventory. His pout deepens, but Niki keeps looking. She stares at her inventory before pulling out a stuffed bunny and pacifier. The items make Ranboo brighten, and he makes grabby hands at them. Giggling, Niki makes grabby hands back.

Surprise comes to Ranboo’s face, his different colored eyes widening. Niki laughs again at her little brother’s face. “Sissy!” Ranboo yells childishly, making hands at the little items.

“Bubby!” Niki says back with a playful smile, handing the plushie and the paci to him. She receives a possessive glare as Ranboo pops the pacifier in his mouth, and hugs the stuffed bunny close to his chest.

A small laugh escapes her again, and she takes Ranboo’s hand. “Are you big enough to walk right now, Boo?” She asks, watching him clumsily stand up, holding on to his plushie for dear life.

“Yep! I only four, Sissy!” He yells with a giddy smile, jumping up and down on the Netherrack. Niki smiles a little at him, and nods. “Okay. Hold my hand, okay? And don’t let go.” She says, her nerves setting in.

“Okay! We goin’ home?” He asks, words slurred together. Niki can tell he’s tired, and feels some sort of guilt creep up on her. This was supposed to be an easy trip. Now she had to hurry, because now she had, mentally, a four year old on her hands.

She nods, hesitant. “Yeah. We just need to find the portal, bubs.” She says, and Niki prays they’ll find it soon.

***

They do, thankfully.

Ranboo had played with his bunny the five minutes it takes to find the portal and Niki curls her arm around Ranboo the entire time. “You sleepy, Bubs?” She asks, looking over at him with soft eyes. Ranboo nods, humming as he plays with the bunny’s arms before glancing over at her and chewing on his pacifier. He takes it out, then, looking at her with droopy, different colored eyes. “Nap, p’ease? Wi’h milk?”

Niki gives him an equally soft smile, “Of course, Boo. You can have a small snack, too, if you want.” She says as they walk through the portal. Ranboo shakes his head, pouting, “No! Jus’ wan’ sleep.” He says, cuddling his bunny to his chest.

Putting up her hands with a little laugh as they walk to her bakery/home, Niki boops his nose with a grin. “Okay, sleepy boy. Let’s get inside okay?”

When Ranboo nods eagerly and bounces on his toes as Niki unlocks the front door. “You head upstairs, okay Prince?” She asks, setting down a large knapsack full of ores and potion ingredients down on the counter. She’d need to organize everything after she laid Ranboo down for his nap.

“Otay Sissy!” Ranboo calls back to her, already stumbling up the stairs, where her and Ranboo’s bedrooms were located. Niki hums loftily to herself as she picks out a sippy cup and fills it with milk. She warms it in the microwave for thirty seconds before following her little prince up the stairs and walking into his bedroom.

Setting the warmed milk on the nightstand, Niki walks over to Ranboo’s dresser. The bottom dresser is the one they kept all his little space clothes in. Ranboo leaves his bunny on his bed as he wanders closer to her. “Wear onesie?” He asks, blinking at her slowly. Niki laughs at his tired expression.

She nods, “Yes, Boo. Onesie and then naptime, okay? I got your milk and everything.” Niki reassures as she picks out a cat onesie, specially made by Eret (all of Ranboo’s little clothes were) to fit the tall Enderman hybrid perfectly. It was a black and white cat onesie, with little kitten ears on the floppy hood.

Ranboo squeals and vroops excitedly.

“That’s my favorite, Sissy!” Ranboo says. Niki didn’t doubt it, but she scarcely believed it, either. Little Boo claimed to have a favorite sippy, blankie, onesie, cartoon, etc. every time she did something for him, no matter what the sippy, blankie, onesie, cartoon was.

It warmed her heart nonetheless, and she gave him a loving smile. “I know, Boo.” She croons softly, changing him quickly and walking him over to his bed.

Once she’d gotten him safely tucked into the blankets, Niki grabbed the milk, which was lukewarm now instead of the toasty warm she’d originally made for him, she handed the little Ender boy the sippy. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, nuzzling her face into his hair before pulling back.

Already, Ranboo looked half asleep, eyes just barely open enough to look up at her and only half sipping on his milk. “Night night, my little prince.” She coos, carding her thin and small fingers through his two toned hair.

“Ni’ ni’ Sissy.” Ranboo whispers sleepily, curling up under the covers. Niki felt her heart swell as she shut the door behind her.

Chapter Text

“Good morning, bubs.” Sam begins, smiling gently down at Quackity. The boy had stayed over last night after coming over for their weekly Friday family dinners. He’d slipped after the dinner and Sam was quick to slip into the role of caregiver.

Now, it was time for the little to wake up. Sam had carded his fingers through Quackity’s rough black locks to wake him up. The little was currently looking up at him with dozy, barely open eyes. “Papa?” He murmurs sleepily, blinking.

Smile going impossibly soft, Sam pulls his hand from the boy’s hair, and helps him to sit up in the comfortable and soft bed. The gentle and soft blankets pool around his waist. “It’s me, bubs. Papa’s here to wake you up.” Sam explains to the boy, who was obviously still in his little headspace.

Quackity reaches up to his head, looking at Sam with confusion. “Where beanie?” He asks in broken English. Sam laughs- of course that’d be the first thing his little one brought up. He grabs the LAPF blue and red beanie from the night stand, where he’d haphazardly placed it while lying Quackity down for sleep.

When he hands it to Quackity, the little shoots him a blinding grin. “T’ank you, Papa!” He says happily, fixing the seemingly permanent beanie back onto his head.

Nodding, Sam says, “No problem, little duck,” an unstoppable smile forces itself on his lips when he hears Quackity giggle at the nickname, “Now, how little are you, Bubs?” He asks. The little seems to pause at the question, processing it for a moment before answering.

He puts up two tan fingers, “I little!” Quackity giggles as he shares the not very surprising news.

Deciding to humor the mentally small boy, Sam lets out his laugh, hearty and deep and with a few small hisses here and there that signifies the laugh of a creeper hybrid. “Yes, you are!” He says with a smile, picking up Quackity from the bed and spinning him around. Quackity squeals happily, quacking before he can stop himself in his joy.

Now that the boy is standing, Sam motions to his room, which is a little messy from the hour of play time Quackity had done before bed last night. “You wanna clean up your room and get play clothes on, Bubs?” Sam asks, mentioning the boy’s sleep wear- a cute shorts and shirt set in yellow with a duck face on the shirt and little ducks patterning the cotton shorts.

Quackity pouts, “No clean!” He says, crossing his arms around his chest. A small laugh pulls itself out of Sam, but he shakes his head.

“No, come on, Squid. We gotta clean up just a little, and then we can get dressed and go play, okay?” Sam says, trying to coax the boy into cleaning. Like most kids, Quackity was never one for cleaning, but he usually did it after some bribery and coaxing.

As expected, Quackity considers it as much as a two year old can, before nodding. “Okay, Papa! Can get dressed first?” Sam nods, smiling at the boy, “Of course, Bubs.” He agrees, pulling out a large cardboard box out from under the little’s bed.

Before Quackity had moved out, Sam had made him another small dresser for his little clothes, but Quackity had moved it to his, Sapnap, and Karl’s house after he’d gotten engaged. Sam was glad, at least, that he still had some of Quackity’s little clothes, as most of them had been moved with the mini dresser.

Quackity claps excitedly, moving to sit from his bed and onto the floor. The little looked at the clothes for a few moments before pulling out a pair of cotton made, brown overall shorts with a cute bear face on the front and a plain white shirt.

“Can you put them on yourself, Squid?” Sam asks, adjusting the boxes lid to fit it on and slid it back under the bed. Quackity stares for a moment, then shakes his head. A soft smile comes to Sam’s face, and he nods, “Thank you for being honest, baby. We wouldn’t want you getting upset trying to do it yourself.” He says kindly.

Quackity shoves the clothes into Sam’s arms, “Change! Change!” He chants, grinning childishly.

“Okay, okay!” Sam laughs, laying the clothes on the bed and starting to pull Quackity’s jammies off. Once they’re off, Quackity shivers, “Cold!” He whines. Sam nods, slightly rushing to put the shirt Quackity has chosen on the whining little.

“I know, Squid. You’re doing really good, Bubs. Being a good boy for Papa.” He says reassuringly, unclasping the overalls so he can help Quackity pull them up. When the straps are clasped again, Quackity grins and throws his arms up happily, just nearly avoiding hitting Sam in the face.

“Yay! Squid good boy!” Quackity cheers. Sam nods with a grin, standing up and scooping up his little duck into his arms. Quackity buries himself in his Papa’s hold, small quacks escaping him in his excitement.

Sam makes his way out of Quackity’s bedroom, beginning toward the kitchen so the little can eat breakfast before they leave. “Are you excited for today?” Sam asks, looking down at the happily stimming boy in his grasp.

The little nods, “Mhm! Weally exci’ed!” He says, right as his stomach rumbles with the telltale calls of hungry, for food. Quackity rubs his tummy, looking down at his middle with wide eyes. “I hungry, Papa.” He states the obvious, looking back up at his caregiver with pleading eyes, “Bites?”

A small laugh escapes Sam as he sits the boy on a chair at the dining table as he continues into the kitchen. “Of course, Squid, little boys need to eat before they play.” He calls back to Quackity, listening as the boy giggles, obviously eager for the day to begin. “What do you want for breakfast, Bubs?” Sam asks, grabbing a plastic, duck themed children’s plate.

“Bites!” Quackity cheers from the dining room.

Rolling his eyes with a fond grin, Sam grabs an apple from a glass bowl in the middle of the counter, grabbing a knife before walking back into the dining room. “Of course. Why would I expect anything else?” He asks sarcastically, grinning playfully at the little. Quackity giggles, and fiddles with the clasps on his overalls as Sam starts to cut up an apple into slices.

“What we doin’ ‘oday, Papa?” Quackity asks as Sam slides the plate over to him. “Appy slices!” He cheers happily, earlier question already forgotten as he grabs an apple slice and taking a bite.

Sam watches the scene with fondness, letting Quackity eat the apple slice and then pick up a new slice and bite into that one, a bit of the apple slice’s juice dribbling down his chin. “We’re gonna go to the park, probably go on a walk, have a nice picnic lunch. We’ll probably go meet up with Karl and Sapnap, yeah?” He proposes.

Mentioning the little’s boyfriends immediately makes him brighten, as Sam had expected, and Quackity cheers, mouth full of chewed up apple slices. “Yay! Sappy and Karl!” He shouts, quacking happily.

***
“Boop!” Quackity shrieks with giggles, booping Sam on the nose with a small finger before he scampers away before his caregiver can ‘capture and torture’ him. Capture was really hugging him, and torture was really just tickling the little until he’s begging Sam to stop between laughter. They’re in a relatively empty area of the SMP, nicknamed ‘the park’ for the littles in the SMP to play without having to look at the destruction of the main area.

Playfully gasping, Sam starts to chase the little, who had slowly been getting a little bigger, still small but starting to be around the age of four instead of his previous two earlier in the day. “I’m gonna get you!” He calls to Quackity, laughing lightly.

When Quackity is picked up by Sam, since the little isn’t that fast even when big, the boy squeals, giggling happily as he is spun around in the warm sun in the field, held in his Papa’s protective arms. Sam grins lovingly at his boy, running a hand through his hair. “You ready to have lunch, Squid?” Sam asks. Quackity nods eagerly- Sapnap and Karl had agreed to meet them for their picnic, and he was excited to see his boyfriends.

Sam sets the little down, and Quackity holds on to Sam’s hand loosely as they walk down the path to the perfect picnic spot of the server. He’s skipping next to him happily, and squeals when he sees Sapnap and Karl walking toward him and Sam. The two are talking, leaning against one another as they idly chat. Sam lets go of Quackity’s hand after a few tugs from the little and a whine of, “Let go, Papa!” Sam smiles at him, giving the boy a quick warning, “Don’t fall!” before he allows the little to run to his boyfriends.

“Guys! Guys!” He cries, bringing both of the men’s attention to him. Both immediately look over, and beaming grins split their faces as Sapnap opens his arms, letting Quackity crash into him. Sam had explained that it was Little Quackity’s day over the phone earlier when they’d agreed to come meet for lunch, so both immediately slipped into their caregiver roles. “Squid!” Both cheer, grinning at their smallest.

Both Karl and Sapnap glance up as Sam starts to walk over. “Hey, baby. Are you having a good day?” Karl asks, grabbing Quackity’s hand and letting the little play with his fingers. Quackity nods, eyes happy and excited. “Le’s go eat lunch!” He cheers childishly.

Chapter Text

Schlatt knows it is never a good idea to go on Twitter. It just makes him feel bad, which leads to him getting stuck in little space all by himself until he feels better.

kalliepoppins
i just dunno why people even like Schlatt he isn’t even funny
7 comments, 2.8k retweets, 6.5k likes

And it makes even less sense for him to be on Twitter because Minx is coming in from Ireland, and Schlatt definitely can not be in little space

milocloud
Schlatt literally makes me wanna puke i hate him so much
4 comments, 3.6k retweets, 7.1k likes

He ends up on Twitter anyway.

Already, little space is starting to sink in, whining for him to stop being on the computer and start playing with his toys or watch some cartoons. Schlatt ignores the, rather strong as he keeps scrolling through his hashtag, urge and feels his eyes fill with tears for his troubles.

Minx is coming over from Ireland, and her most recent text says she’s already in the states, getting a ride from an Uber and coming over. Schlatt can’t be in little space when she gets her, lest he want to be subjected to teasing and, most likely, disgust from one of his best friends.

But it was so hard to not slip then and there as he scrolls slowly and shakily through the hashtag. It wasn’t often Schlatt went out of his way to look at hate, but he had his moments where he just wanted to look at it, which always made him slide right down into little space.

nofish
god schlatt could go k*ll himself for all i care he’s such a terrible person
23 comments, 2.1k retweets, 4.9k likes

And he crashes.

Tears rush down his cheeks, and his chin trembles with the beginnings of a sob starting up his throat, which feels tight as he tries to stop crying.

Swallowing thickly, Schlatt gets up from his computer desk, and goes to his bed, feeling so much worse than he had earlier this morning. Schlatt had actually felt pretty good this morning, edging on little space because he’d been so excited about Minx coming to visit.

Now, however, Schlatt grabs his YouTube’s avatar plushie and cuddles into it, laying on his side and half burying his face in the plush, half burying it into the comfy pillow. His bed is comfortably messy, layered with probably hundreds of pastel, soft blankets and gently pillows that Schlatt feels himself grow smaller as he cuddles into them.

Right then, his front door is, rather loudly, knocked on.

Schlatt squeezes his eyes shut. His little space brain is whining that he’s too small to get up and open doors, but his big self knows it’s Minx, and he gets up, reluctantly leaving his plushie on the bed.

“Schlatt! Let me in, you fokin’ cunt!” Minx is screaming at his door, and Schlatt’s little self whimpers at the mean words. He knows that’s just how Minx is, and she doesn't mean (that much) harm by them, but he feels so small that he just wants kind words and cuddles.

He goes to the door, and opens it to reveal Minx, all in her short glory, about to start loudly knocking on the door again. “Schlatt!” Minx yells, and grins almost wildly at him.

A small smile comes to his face, and Schlatt moves to let her move inside. “Hey, Minx.” He says, hating the way his voice sounds small and the way its soft, maybe even meek.

“Why you all quiet?” Minx asks, voice loud and crude, even if no curse words leave her mouth. Schlatt feels his eyes be nipped with tears, and his lips tremble. Schlatt feels like he’s suffocating, with the way his throat tightens so tighten he feels like he’s going to burst into tears.

Minx stares at him for a moment, face almost edging on worry. “Schlatt?” She asks quietly, and Schlatt feels exhausted but he bursts into tears again.

Surprise blooms on Minx’s face, mixing with her worry and she pulls him closer to her, him having to lean down considerably to bury his face in her hair. Another sob wracks though him, and he crashes right back down into little space.

“Mama,” Schlatt whines, too far deep to even realize that Minx doesn’t know he’s a little.

Fortunately, Minx only freezes for a moment before pulling him from her hair and looking up at him with comforting eyes and an uncharacteristically gentle smile. “Hi, little one,” Minx says kindly, accent turning soft.

In any other situation, or if Schlatt was any bigger, he would’ve cackled, because Minx is so small compared to him, but the right now the nickname just makes him giggle happily and slip further.

“What’s wrong, honey?” She asks, moving him and herself to the couch. Schlatt pushes his head into the crook of her neck and shoulder, whining a little before answering.

“People bein’ mean.” He mumbles, all the crying already tiring him out.

Schlatt feels his eyes grow heavy as Minx rubs his back gently. “It’s okay. They don’t know what they’re talking about.” She says, pressing a tender kiss to the side of his head comfortingly. Schlatt cuddles further into Minx, and closes his eyes sleepily.

It’s quiet for a few moments before Minx speaks again, voice just as soft and kind. “Do you got any little gear you want Mama to get for you?” She asks.

Hearing Minx call herself mama makes Schlatt feel like a two year old, small and helpless but lacking any responsibilities. He pulls away, slowly, and nods excitedly, a grin forming on his lips, eager to tell his for the moment (even though he really doesn’t want her to be temporary) caregiver about his toys and sippies and pacis.

He hums a ‘yes’ before jumping into explaining, “Yeah! I gots a baba and paci and blankies!” Schlatt says excitedly, thinking of all his little gear.

Ever the good caregiver, Minx gives him an excited look back, gasping, “Really? Oh my gosh!” She says, making him giggle. “Let’s go get them!” Minx says, making Schlatt cheer.

In a few moments, they’re both up from the couch and Schlatt’s hand is held in Minx’s as they go to his room to collect whatever little gear he wants.

“You wanna get jammies on? It’s almost night night time, bear.” Minx says, the nicknames all sounding slightly weird but Schlatt just feels his heart swell each time she says one. He nods, pulling her, gently of course, over to his bed and leaning down to pull a box out from under his bed.

The box, Minx finds when she opens it, is full of childish clothing and little gear that makes Minx almost coo at the cuteness of it all. “Which jammies you want, bear?” She asks, letting Schlatt pick out a big sweater, that would probably go to almost his knees if he wore it, and long socks that vaguely remind Minx of thigh highs. He already has cotton, comfy shorts on, so Minx figures he’ll wear them, too.

“Oh, you’d look so cute in that, baby.” Minx says kindly, making Schlatt blush. “T’ank you, mama.” He murmurs, acting like a shy toddler.

She smiles at him, “Do you need help changing?” Minx asks. Schlatt considers the question for a moment, then shakes his head, and gets up to go the bathroom and change.

Just as he’s about to shut the door, Minx calls to him, “I’ll grab your blankies and stuffies, okay, bear?” Schlatt nods, looking like a mix of sleepy and excited. Keeping true to her words, Minx grabs the soft blankets and grabs the ram plush off the bed and a few other plushies Schlatt kept in the box.

Curiously, she spots a pacifier, and decides to grab it, just in case.

Just as Minx exits Schlatt’s room, Schlatt leaves the bathroom, holding his dirty clothes. Her earlier statement holds true- Schlatt looks absolutely adorable in the outfit. The sweater is oversized, making sweater paws of his hands, the shorts peaking out from underneath and the socks are a cute touch.

Grabbing Minx’s hand again, Schlatt is led back into the living room, where they curl up on the couch together. It’s not the most roomy situation Schlatt’s ever been in, but he finds comfort in the closeness.

“T’ank you for doin’ dis, Mama.” He says, voice slurred with sleepiness as Minx turns out the lamp on the end table near her head.

A soft smile is on Minx’s face, even though Schlatt can’t see it, and she rubs his arm soothingly, “Of course, bear.”

***

The next morning, Schlatt wakes up curled up against Minx, and feels his chest flutter.

Hesitantly, he grabs his phone from the end table and with even more hesitance clicks on Twitter. The home page presents him with a tweet that makes Schlatt almost cry again, but this time from unfiltered joy.

JustaMinx
If any of you fucks hate on Schlatt again I’m gonna suffocate you
173 comments, 42.5k retweets, 102.6k likes

Chapter Text

Adjusting his hold on his bag, Techno nervously waits for Phil to text him back. He stands in an airport, anxiously avoiding being touched by any of the other people as families and bussiness men and women skate past him quickly.

He doesn’t like being in crowded places, it makes Techno incredibly anxious. Murmuring a small, “Sorry,” Techno rushes past a woman and her husband. He purses his lips nervously, and walks speedily toward the waiting area for those holding up signs with names.

Eyes frantically looking around at each sign, Techno feels his phone buzz. The feeling makes him flinch, and he picks up his phone from his pocket, feeling intense relief when he sees it’s a message from Phil.

Minecraft Dad
We’re here, waving a sign with ‘Techno’ on it

Shooting back a short ‘ok’, Techno looks around, squinting his eyes a little to make out the words. Finally, he sees the sign, looking down at who’s holding it with excitement.

Techno might’ve put on an uncaring persona online, but Phil and Kristin always made him happy, as did Wilbur and Tommy. But with the two ‘parents’ of the group, Techno felt almost like he could just slip right into little space.

Anxiety swells in him, mixing with giddy happiness and Techno rushes toward the two older couple. “Tech!” Kristin cheers, grinning at him happily. Phil gives him a kind, fatherly smile, and the two pull him into a hug.

“Hey, guys.” Techno says, his lips twitching with the hints of a smile. Kristin ruffles his hair, and Techno almost slips right there. “Can we go to your guys’ place?” He asks, jet lagged and already feeling small, just wanting to sleep, cuddling with his pig plushie and with his pacifier. It’d be kinda hard for him to hide his little self from Kristin and Phil, since he’d be staying for almost two weeks, but Techno thinks he can do it.

Both of them seem to share his sentiment, as it’s late in Brighton, too, and Techno doesn’t really doubt that either of them are probably just as exhausted as him.

Gripping his bags, Techno tries to calm himself down. He’d gotten kind of worked up during the plane ride and the wait for Phil and Kristin. Still, the stress and anxiety don’t completely melt from his shoulders and he resists the urge to grab Phil or Kristin’s hand, feeling too small to walk around ‘by himself’.

Luckily, Phil grabs his hand as they start to walk in a more crowded (which Techno hadn’t thought was possible) area of the airport. Techno relaxes a little, but with the relief comes the creeping in of small thoughts.

They continue to walk around, trying to leave the massive building. Techno refuses to admit there is a spring in his step as he walks, that is much too childish for him.

“Do you wanna get food?” Phil asks, Kristin hums in response, but it’s obvious they’re both waiting for Techno to answer.

He nods a little.

“‘M hungry. Maybe we can gets Chinese?” He murmurs, words slurred the smallest bit and Techno prays to whatever god is in the sky he doesn’t believe in that Phil and Kristin don’t notice.

If they do, neither of them comment on it, and Techno feel immensely appreciative.

Without a hint of a doubt, Techno knows both Kristin and Phil know of and what little space is. They’d both talked about it with Tommy, Wilbur, and him on call, both confiding in them that they were both caregivers. That had been the call where Tommy had confessed he was a little.

The onslaught of confession in that call had almost been enough for Techno to admit he was an age regressor, too. Almost. But Techno hadn’t, and then the call had ended, and the topic had never been brought up again and Techno knew he would just feel and act awkward if he tried to bring it up again, so he never did.

He almost disintegrated with embarrassment at the thought of coming out as a little, now of all times, when this trip was supposed to be about fun and relaxation.

Techno would hate to force Kristin and Phil to work all weekend taking care of him in little space.

***

When they get home, Techno feels like he’s dancing at the edge of falling into little space so quick it could almost be considered a crash. He knows, definitely, if he doesn’t regress within the next half hour, Techno will be forced to crash.

“Here ya go, Tech.” Phil says, layering the couch with comfy blankets and soft, cushiony pillows. “Are you gonna be okay with the couch?” He asks.

Techno lets his lips twitch a little, and nods. The couch looks positively comfy, and Techno knows that as soon as he lays down in his little space jammies, his stuffie, and a pacifier, he’s little self will be exceptionally satisfied to play with his stuffie and cuddle it and the blankets until he’s soundly asleep.

Patting him on the shoulder, Phil gives him a fatherly smile, and walks down the hallway to go his room, where Kristin had already gone into.

Techno quickly changes into pink, cartoon pig face patterned jammie shorts, and a big, oversized white sleep shirt with another cartoon pig face.

He feels so small already, even if he’s just in his little clothes. Techno babbles quietly to himself, and he pulls his pig plushie from his bag next before finally taking his pastel pink colored paci from his bag and popping it into his mouth.

Nomming gently on the paci, Techno gets under the blankies and pulls his plushie close to his chest. Everything is so soft, his night wear gentle in comparison to his big self’s stuffy jeans and the rough feeling of his bag’s straps against his sensitive hands for long.

Already, Techno feels his eyes begin to droop and he stops chewing at the pacifier, instead just sucking at it, a half attempt to lull himself further into little space and sleep.

“Oh, hey, Tech- no…” Phil’s voice says, trailing off, and Techno snaps up in an instant, fear beginning to twist in his tummy. Phil knows. He knows. Techno looks at him, pacifier hanging almost limply in his mouth as his grip on his pig plushie, affectionately named ‘Blade’, tightens with his nerves.

Tears begin to well in the little’s eyes, and Phil immediately melts into his carer headspace. “Oh, baby.” He murmurs, walking around to sit on the couch and pull Techno to embrace him in a hug quickly.

Techno sniffles, “Sowwy, I’s sowwy.” He whimpers, and only Phil notices as Kristin comes out of their shared bedroom.

She, like him, immediately recognizes the younger man as a little in distress, and falls into a caregiver headspace. “Oh, baby, what’re you sorry about?” Kristin asks, voice calm and careful, as to not spook the little who’d have yet to notice her.

“Didn’t tell you’s I was liddle, and now I small!” He murmurs, tears slipping from his eyes. But the boy doesn’t look as sad as he was. Kristin coos, and sits behind him on the couch, rubbing his back. “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay. We’re not mad. Do you wanna come sleep in our bed, since you’re so small?” She asks.

Looking between both of them nervously, Techno nods anxiously, making grabby hands at Phil when the older couple stands up.

Chuckling, Phil picks the little up with only a little bit of effort. “How old are you now, Techie?” Phil asks gently, all of them walking into the bedroom.

Techno thinks for a moment, and then he holds up three fingers. Kristin gasps playfully, “Oh! You’re so tiny!” She giggles, poking his cheek gently. Techno giggles back, laughing high pitched when Phil drops him onto the soft comforter.

He hugs Blade to his chest tightly as Phil and Kristin get comfortable on either side of him. Luckily, the bed is big enough for all three of them to have room. Even still, both Kristin and Phil get closer to him and cuddle into him.

Chapter Text

It isn’t like Purpled to stay out so late, but Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo had invited him to hang out for a few hours and all four of them had gotten caught up in the fun and lost track of time. He hadn’t realized how late it’d gotten until it was two am and he’d had no time to regret his poor life decision because as soon as he’d gotten home, he’d passed out upon laying down.

Blinking blearily up at his ceiling, Purpled feels like death is upon him. He doesn’t remember ever being this sick, and he, almost immediately after waking up, falls into little space, his mind regressing to an age Purpled never remembers ever regressing to before. He whines, a sob escaping him.

A whimper pushes past his lips as Purpled buries himself into his pillows and blankies. He wants his caregivers, he wants his Daddy and Papa. They always made him feel better, whenever he was hurt or upset or mad. “Papa,” Purpled whines, knowing, even as little as he is, that Papa cannot hear him.

Tears well into his eyes and Purpled slowly moves himself to his side, haphazardly grabbing his paci from the drawer inside of his night stand and try to ignore the pain pulsing in his head and the ache that seeps into the very marrow of his bones. He closes his eyes to ignore the light coming from his window.

Still, the pain doesn’t completely fade, but Purpled passes out before the waterworks start up again.

***

“Purp?” Punz asks loudly, walking into Purpled’s house, looking about anxiously. He hadn’t seen Purpled all day, which wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, since the teen had a habit of staying out of the main SMP on most days, but the concern started to seep in when Punz asked Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy about the boy’s whereabouts, and they hadn’t seen him either.

Concern and worry nipped at him, and the negative emotions only grew, like a hurricane of worry and anxiety growing larger and larger as Punz takes in how dark and simply put, dead the house is. He hurries to Purpled’s room, and he freezes in concern at how the lump on Purpled’s bed is barely moving, except for, thankfully, the silent up and down of his breathing chest.

He rushes over to the younger boy’s bed, and rakes his eyes over the blanket covered mound before laying a gentle hand on where he thinks the boy’s shoulder is. He hesitates before slowly and carefully awakening the boy. Purpled never stayed in bed this long, made him feel ‘ugh’ as he’d put it when explaining it to Punz.

What Punz expects is to see Purpled whine and burrow deeper into his covers. It is not what he gets, not in the slightest.

Punz expects to have to call Ponk so they can convince Purpled to wake up and get out of bed. Instead, Purpled pushes his blanket down, only the slightest bit, and looks up at him with teary eyes, red and puffy and exhausted. “Oh, my little bunny,” Punz murmurs, immediately slipping into his role as one of the boy’s caregivers, since the boy is obviously regressed and sick, by the looks of it.

In response, Purpled whines, burying his face back into his pillows and whimpering.

Cooing softly, Punz pets the boy’s hair for a moment before leaning down to press a comforting kiss to his temple. He feels Purpled relax under his touch. “I’ll be right back, little one. Papa’s gonna go get Daddy, okay?” He murmurs gently, straightening from his leaned over position and starting toward the door after a moment.

Whimpers come from the regressed boy, and though Punz’s heart aches to go back to Purpled and cuddle the small boy until he feels better, he knows he’ll need Ponk to help the boy. He calls a soft and quiet, “I love you, bunny,” before he leaves.

It’s not long before he finds Ponk, and he calls out to the other to grab the other caregiver’s attention. “Ponk!” He shouts to the mask wearing man, greeting the other, who was seemingly doing something on his communicator as he stands idly on the Prime Path. Ponk startles, and practically snaps his neck with how fast he looks over to Punz. “What’s up?” Ponk asks, looking worried for the visibly nervous man.

Punz jerks his thumb behind his shoulder, in the direction of Purpled’s house. “Little one is really sick. Small, too. He’s practically nonverbal.” Punz says, a frown pulling at his lips in his worry.

Concern takes over Ponk’s face, and he starts toward Purpled’s house without a second thought. “Make him a warm bottle, yeah? I’ll get him some tylenol.” He says as they enter the small home. Punz nods, going into the kitchen, and opening a cupboard quickly. This cupboard was where they kept all of Purpled’s sippies and small, cartoon themed plates and bowls.

Without skipping a beat, Ponk quickly grabs the milk from the fridge, setting it on the counter before going to the medicine cabinet and grabbing a small bottle of simply label tylenol. When the milk bottle is full and two tylenol tabs are in Ponk’s hands, the two caregivers go into their little boy’s room.

Ponk coos at and simply melts at how small and innocent Purpled looks, and Punz really can’t blame the man. He looks like he’s in pain, but is too small to understand or explain it, all curled up on his bed, surrounded by fluffy blankets and soft pillows. Punz walks over and, after sitting the boy’s bottle of milk on the night stand, sits on the boy’s bed, gently pulling the boy and maneuvering him slowly so his head lays on Punz’s chest.

His eyes are droopy, and he whines a little, cuddling as deep as he can into his caregiver’s chest. “Aw, little one, it’s okay. Papa brought you warm milk, too, doesn’t that sound good?” He asks gently, making sure to keep his voice low and quiet as to not make the boy’s headache worse.

Seeming to think for a moment, Purpled nods slowly, eyes falling shut as Ponk comes over. “Papa?” He mumbles quietly, words slurring and slow, heavily lisped with a childish tone. Punz smiles a little, nodding at the sleepy baby, “Mhm, I’m right here, little one.” He says.

“Hi, baby.” Ponk greets quietly with a soft and loving smile directed at the little, and he crouches in front of Purpled, holding out the two tylenol. “Daddy needs you to take these, okay, little one? So you feel better.” Ponk explains gently. “Afterward, you can go night night, yeah?” He entices. Purpled offers little resistance, only a little whine before he takes the pills in his mouth and drinks a bit of milk to swallow them easier.

“T’ank you, Dada and Papa.” Purpled coos sleepily, voice quiet as he lays back down on his Papa’s chest and drinks his milk slowly. “It’s no problem, bunny.” Punz assures as Ponk comes to the other side of the bed and the two caregivers cuddle their little one.

Chapter Text

“What is wrong with you?” Sapnap snarls, pushing Dream backward. Tears burn in Dream’s eyes. He didn’t mean to hurt George. Taking his position as King was to keep the older boy safe.

He glances at George, glad that at least he’s wearing his mask. Dream doesn’t know what’d he’d do if Sapnap or George saw his tears- or what’d they’d do.

Frowns are present on both Sapnap and George’s faces. Neither of them are pleased with his decision to take away George’s position. He had been trying to explain, only minutes ago, but Dream had said the wrong thing and now Sapnap was seething in front of him.

Sapnap pushes him again, seeming even more furious with Dream’s lack of response. “Huh? How could you do that to him?” He snarks. Dream winces, fidgeting with his fingers, hesitantly looking into Sapnap’s eyes.

The other’s eyes are wildly looking at his mask, the pupils dilated with rage.

“Sap...” Dream trails off, flinching when Sapnap takes another step forward as if to hit him. Something like guilt flashes in Sapnap’s eyes, but it’s gone before Dream can even blink and for a moment, Dream is sure it was just his mind tricking him.

Rolling his eyes and taking a few steps back, Sapnap clenches his jaw. The muscles move and twitch with barely concealed anger that makes Dream want to shrink.

“Just go, Dream. Neither of us want to see you right now.” George says, taking Sapnap by the arm but looking directly into Dream’s eyes like the mask wasn’t even there. Sorrow curls in his stomach, and Dream wants to just say sorry and cuddle Georgie and Sappy until they’re not mad anymore.

Stammering, Dream stutters out, “Ge-Ge’rge, p’ease,” He says. The words are stumbling and he’s slurring them into how he talks when he’s small. The little part of his brain just wants kisses and cuddles and huggies.

“Go, Dream.” George grounds out. If Dream had thought George wasn’t mad, he sure would now. Sapnap and George both stare at him, anger in their bones and fury boiling in their eyes.

He nods, the motion is shaky and his lips are quivering. Dream’s chin trembles with the beginnings of a sob coming up and he rushes out of the community house.

The outside’s air is a lot less stifling, but Dream still feels like he’s suffocating. He’s regressing at a rapid rate, and he’s doesn’t know who to go to. George and Sapnap were always the first ones he went to, and they were mad at him, and it was all his fault.

“Dream?” A warm voice asks, and Dream’s eyes snap around frantically to find the source of the noise. Puffy crouches in front of him, and- when did Dream get on the floor?

His eyes fill with a whole new gallon of tears, and the tears trail down his cheeks. “Mo-M’mmy?” Dream stutters as Puffy pulls him into a hug that feels so safe and so warm Dream doesn’t ever wanna leave the embrace.

“Oh, my little boy, what’s wrong, honey?” Puffy asks, voice gentle and soft in a way Dream has never really heard George or Sapnap’s voices get. He curls deeper into the older woman, desperately, greedily searching for more of her comfort.

“Mommy!” Dream cries into her shoulder. Puffy combs her fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to Dream’s temple. “G’t in a f’ght wit’ Sappy and Georgie. Dey mad at me!” He mumbles pitifully, tears pooling in his eyes as they collect and drip from his chin.

Cooing gently at him, Puffy pulls back a little. “It’s okay, baby. It’ll all be okay.” She murmurs consolingly, pulling at his jeans, “Do you wanna go to my house, so we can get you out of your itchy big boy clothes?” She asks, a vague attempt at distracting the distressed little.

Dream nods, a small smile coming to his face. Puffy gasps happily, putting on an exaggeratedly gleeful face. “Yay! You want Mommy to pick you up?” She asks, smiling at him.

Staring at her with wide, childishly innocent eyes, Dream nods, making grabby hands at her. Pressing a kiss to Dream’s temple again, Puffy picks up the mentally small boy, and lets him bury himself in her shoulder.

She starts walking toward her house, letting Dream play with her fluffy hair, and presses a kiss to his nose when he boops hers.

When she kisses his small button nose, Dream giggles. “Mommy! Th’t t’ckles!” He says, flapping his hands up and down with another soft giggle.

Puffy smiles at him, “I know, silly bun. That’s why I did it!” She says, letting out a small laugh of her own. Dream buries himself in her shoulder again, smiling widely.

“We’re here, baby!” Puffy says happily, opening her door. She walks into Dream’s room, which she’d built for when he stayed over or was small. There are chests full of little gear and little clothes, all of them pastel colors, mostly mint greens, to resemble the boy’s usual neon.

Dream claps excitedly, looking around the small themed bedroom happily. “Yay!” He cheers, looking back at her eagerly, “Liddle cloth’s, n’w?” He asks expectantly.

Nodding, Puffy sets him on his bed, and drags the chest full of little themed clothes toward him. “What do you wanna wear, baby?” She asks gently, opening the chest so the little could see them.

Dream puffs out his cheeks, looking adorably concentrated. Puffy coos silently at him as Dream points toward a light green sweater and a pair of blue denim overall shorts.

“That’s adorable, baby! Do you need Mommy’s help?” Puffy asks kindly, grabbing the clothes for the boy.

“Help p’ease.” Dream said cutely. Puffy coos again, and helps the boy out and in of his big kid clothes and into the soft, gentle against the skin green sweater and reasonably loose and comfortable denim overall shorts.

Dream flapped his hands excitedly, giggles falling from his lips. “What do you wanna do now, baby?” Puffy asks, letting the boy play with her fingers as he sits back down on his bed.

Looking nervous, Dream puffs out his cheeks and hesitantly meets her eyes. “C’ddles, p’ease? Play later?” He asks. The request makes Puffy heart melt, and she wraps him up in her arms, making him squeak in surprise.

Puffy carefully moves them so they’re laying down on Dream’s bed. She pets his hair gently as Dream curls against her, letting out a small, sleepy sigh.

Chapter Text

“Big! Big!” Tubbo yells as he rushes into the kitchen, where Tommy had been making himself a sandwich. Tommy startles, looking over toward the little, who’d been big only ten minutes ago when he’d left the boy in the living room.

Smiling gently at his little friend, Tommy greets him kindly. “Hey, Cookie. What’s up with the yelling, hm?” He asks, booping Tubbo on the nose with a thin finger. Tubbo giggles, scrunching his face. Tommy laughs when the other goes cross eyed to look at his nose.

Tubbo giggles again, finally answering his caregiver’s question. “Just had best idea ever!” He says, nodding to himself proudly. Tommy lets out a soft laugh, “Oh, yeah?”

Nodding again, Tubbo shouts, “Yeah!” with a bright, childish grin.

Tommy raises a blond eyebrow, “Well what’s this best idea ever, Cookie?” He asks, deciding to humor the excited little boy.

Practically vibrating with excitement, Tubbo claps his hands. “Color, Big! I’m gonna color!” He says, rushing into the dining room without waiting for a response from his caregiver. Laughing lightly, Tommy follows the excited little. His heart was warm as he helps the boy to sit at the dining table and he grabs the color supplies. Little Tubbo was always a treat to have around, especially because Tommy knew how much being little helped his friend.

Tubbo sucks on his pacifier, which had been clipped to his shirt because he’d thought he was going to be regressing, and makes grabby hands at the coloring supplies Tommy had grabbed from a cabinet in the dining room.

“Here you go, Cookie! I’m gonna go make you a snack, okay?” Tommy says, placing an array of art supplies, like colored pencils, markers, and crayons, and construction paper with multiple colors on the table in front of Tubbo.

Tubbo nods, a bright smile on his face. Since he’s only been little for about ten minutes, he’s older than normal- around four or five. Tommy coos silently at the boy, and returns to the kitchen to make a quick snack for the smaller of the two of them, and to finish his sandwich.

A pacifier is held loosely in Tubbo’s lips, and he sucks on it thoughtfully as he stared at the paper in front of him. Tommy was such a good caregiver, and Tubbo wanted to make a pretty picture for his Big! He looks up at his coloring supplies, and a small frown tugs his lips downward around the bee themed paci.

The problem, now, was that Tubbo didn’t know what to draw for the (mentally) older boy. Figuring he’d just wing it, Tubbo grabs a red crayon, the bright red color of it reminding him of Tommy’s favorite red and white baseball tee. Maybe he should draw Tommy? Deciding the idea is good, he sets to work.

Scribbles of red and white for the shirt, peach for his skin, blue for his big’s pretty eyes, and yellow for the hair make up a shape resembling Tommy, and Tubbo puts the crayons down, proudly looking at the picture.

“You okay in there, bubs?” Tommy calls back to him as he’s admiring the pretty picture. Tubbo calls back a childishly slurred yes, and grabs a green crayon.

Next to the Tommy figure, he draws a smaller Tubbo shaped figure with green for his Minecraft skin’s classic green button up, peach, blue, and brown. He giggles, drawing little smiles out of curled upward black crayon lines on the two drawings’s faces.

He looks down at his pacifier, and grabs the yellow and black crayons. Tubbo draws cute little bees on the big empty, blank areas of paper, making pretty, colorful flowers on the bottom of the paper, adding some green scribbles at the bottom for grass.

Toward the top of the page, Tubbo writes out “I Luv U” in messy three year old scrawl.

A happy smile comes to his face, and he hides the colored side of the page against his chest as Tommy comes back into the dining room, holding a Paw Patrol plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on it. He giggles as Tommy kisses his forehead in greeting, setting the plastic plate down in front of Tubbo with a cheerful, “Hi, Cookie!”

Giggling out a, “Hi, Toms!” Tubbo takes a bite of the sandwich, and hums his thank you’s. “T’ank you, Big!” Tubbo says, smiling up at the other, showing all of his teeth. A bit of peanut butter is smeared on his upper lip, and he looks just like a messy three year old.

Tommy gives him a gentle grin, and motions toward the paper Tubbo is still holding. He sits down next to Tubbo before he asks, “Did you draw something, Cookie?” He asks curiously.

Shyly, Tubbo nods, hesitantly handing the boy his paper with a shy grin. “Drew us together.” He explains softly, a soft, barely noticeable lisp to his words.

Tommy gasps, a bright smile on his face. “Cookie! Is this for me?” He asks, looking down at Tubbo with a happy face. Tubbo nods, blushing slightly, his shy grin growing and turning more proud. “Thank you, baby.” He says, grabbing Tubbo and pulling the smaller boy into his lap, curling around him into a comforting, warm hug.

“You’re so sweet. I love you too, Cookie.” Tommy says, kissing Tubbo’s forehead again as he looks over the childish but absolutely adorable drawing.

Tubbo smiles happily, proudly puffing out his chest, “‘s good?” He asks. Tommy nods, a small laugh escaping him, “It’s very good, baby. You wanna hang it up in Big’s room?” He asks. Tubbo gasps excitedly, nodding, “Yes, please!” He says, clapping happily at the idea.

Gently putting the boy on his feet, Tommy stands up and leads the little up to his room, heart swelling as Tubbo hums happily on their way up the stairs and to Tommy’s room. Tommy’s room is a little smaller than Tubbo’s, but that’s mostly because Tubbo had more room so he could easily store all of his little things like little space clothes or toys.

The two boys walk up to the caregiver’s corkboard in his room, and Tommy grabs a small push pin, tacking the paper into the corkboard, proudly showing off Tubbo’s picture.

Chapter Text

Sam figures that it’s going to be a good day when he wakes up, and sees Tommy- who hadn’t been in his bed last night, leaving Sam to fall asleep anxiously- is now asleep on his chest, curled up and peaceful and soft.

Looking fondly down at the smaller boy, Sam pets Tommy’s hair down gently. A soft sigh falls from the sleeping boy’s lips, and Sam lets a smile come to his own lips. It makes his heart feel warm, seeing the once broken down boy sleeping regularly, and much happier than he’d been two months ago. He lets his eyes fall shut again, sleep once again overtaking the fatherly man.

***

When Sam wakes up again, the, increasingly familiar as the days pass, weight of Tommy is gone. He rubs his eyes half-heartedly, and sits up. Fran is laying at the end of the bed, eyes drooping from early morning sleepiness, but she’s not quite asleep.

Sam shuffles out of bed slowly, and starts out of his bedroom. Still in his old sleep pants and an old, stained white tee shirt. He walks toward the kitchen, scratching lightly at his stomach, intent on drinking some coffee before Tommy drags him out to the Hotel building cite.

However, coffee is the last thing on his mind when Sam takes in Tommy, physically looking small and soft in a pastel blue fluffy sweater and soft cotton sleep shorts that go down to his mid thigh, trying to cut up an apple with a knife.

“Oh, honey! You’re too small for that, let Papa do that for you.” Sam says, kind of (definitely) rushing over to the regressed boy. For a moment, Tommy pauses, and Sam braces himself for Tommy yelling. He’s embarrassed, thinking he might’ve made a mistake, and Tommy was big, just not dressed like it.

Then, a pout forms on Tommy’s face, and Sam’s shoulders release their tension. Tommy is little, and Sam was not mistaken. A small grin over takes his lips.

“Noo,” Tommy whines, dragging out the word childishly. “Gots ta’ cut dem so’s can have snack!” He says, looking excited for the prospect of getting to have ‘appy slices’.

Another smiles forces itself onto Sam’s lips before he can help it, and he gently takes the knife from the little. “You’ll get your snack sweetheart, but you’re too little to be messing with sharp objects.” He says, moving the apple, placed on a napkin, toward himself.

Looking adorably considerate, Tommy taps his chin playfully. “Mm, pwomise I gets m’ appy’s?” He asks, words lisped and slurred with a childlike lilt. Sam nods, smiling comfortingly at the boy. “I promise, honey. You need breakfast, anyway.” He says, putting out a pinkie. Tommy wraps his own, smaller, pinkie around the other’s, and giggles loudly at the action.

Suddenly, Tommy looks anxious, which Sam knows is a sign that he wants to ask for something, but is too nervous, or thinks him asking for something is ‘bad’. For not the first time, Sam hates the boy’s old caregivers for their treatment and abuse they put the little boy through- because that’s what he is, really, in little headspace or not Tommy is just a kid, too young to understand why anyone he loved would hurt him.

“What’s up, bubs?” Sam asks, starting to cut up the apple. He gives the boy a soft smile, silently encouraging him to ask for what he wants. Thankfully, it works. Tommy fiddles with his fingers, “Cans I gets appy juice, too?” He asks, looking up at his caregiver with questioning eyes.

Feeling his heart break at the idea that Tommy would be anxious to ask for something as simple and easy as juice, Sam nods. “Of course, baby. You can have apple juice.” He says kindly.

The boy immediately goes back to smiling brightly, practically beaming at his caregiver. “Yay! Go’s play, now?” He asks, pointing to Sam’s living room, where the floor is covered in toys, blankets, and a single sippy cup, empty and fallen over. It looks comfortable, and Sam smiles gently at the sight of the nest like area.

“Of course, sweetheart. Just be careful for me, okay? Don’t hurt yourself, and bring your sippy in here quickly please,” Sam says, smiling playfully at the excited boy. Tommy nods vigorously, “Okay, Papa! Gimme one second!” He says, running off toward the couch, where Fran had made her new bed. Sam feels his heart swell at the name- Tommy rarely called him ‘Papa’ while out of little space, but every time Sam heard the boy say it, he melted. He grabs the empty sippy cup, and rushes back into the kitchen to put the cup on the counter.

As he cuts the rest of the apple up, and pours apple juice into a sippy cup, Tommy stumbles back into the living room, giggling happily. Sam balances a plate of apple slices and a sippy cup in his arms as he walks over into the living room a few minutes after Tommy does, carrying and balancing carefully in his arms a plastic plate of apple slices and a sippy of apple juice..

“Papa, look! Hen’y’s fightin’ Bot!” Tommy says, holding out his cow plushie, affectionately named ‘Henry’, and an action figure doll named ‘Bot’ toward his caregiver. Henry is well loved, while Bot is a newer toy, one Sam had made and given the boy only a week ago.

Sam coos at the boy, “Oh, how cool! Is he winning?” He asks, feigning enthusiasm as he sets down the sippy cup and plate on the coffee table.

The little set down the toys, happily making grabby hands at the Winnie the Pooh sippy cup, and smiling brightly at him, nodding. “Mhm! Hen’y takin’ ‘im down!” He says, grinning. Sam hands the boy his cup, and lets Tommy cuddle against his side as he sips it absentmindedly. “T’ank you, Papa.” Tommy murmurs again, smiling a little up at him.

Without his permission, a smile tilts Sam’s lips upward, and he puts his arm around the smaller boy. “It’s no problem, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

Little! Phil, CG! Techno
Living in the tundra was no a very good idea, Phil thinks as he tries to get to Techno’s house. Sleepiness prickles at him and his eyes are heavy. He’s so cold, and he just wants his caregiver.

In the near distance, Phil sees Techno’s cabin, and feels relief fill him. Finally.

He gets to the front door, and shakily knocks on the wooden door. With how cold his hands are, it hurts to knock against the think wood.

The door opens almost instantly, and Techno doesn’t give him a smile as he lets him inside the warmth of the cabin.

The lack of a smile is not out of character, or out of the ordinary. But Phil’s little self is begging to be let out, and his caregiver’s lack of external happiness at seeing him hurts.

He’s feeling smaller than usual, too. Around one or two, maybe- definitely a considerable change from his usual four or five.

Just as he’s about to start slipping, Techno grabs an axe- this one diamond. “Wha-What are you doin’?” He asks, flushing slightly at the way his normal, mature tone delves into a soft, childish one.

“I have to go get some wood for the fire. Do you want to come with me?” He asks.

The question makes Phil want to cry. No! his mind screeches, some unrational part of his brain screaming that Techno should already know he’s starting to slip.

But, logically, he knows Techno isn’t a mind reader, and just settles for shaking his head. “No, t’ank- thank you.” He says, stumbling over the words.

Techno quirks a brow, and oh how Phil wishes he would just realize how little Phil is.

But, ultimately, his long time friend shrugs, and accepts his words at face value.

So Phil is stuck to sit on Techno’s couch and watch the man leave to go collect fire wood. Tears prickle at his eyes, and Phil crashes into little space so hard he might have whiplash.

“‘tupid Techie...” Phil whimpers, rubbing his eyes harshly.

Not fair! All da other littles get cuddles and snackies and- and- Phil bursts into tears.

Just as he does that, Techno walks back inside, having forgotten to grab an apple for a snack if he’d gotten hungry during the trip. Worry bleeds into his veins as he sees Phil curl up on the couch, too caught up in his crying to realize Techno came back.

“Oh, Munchkin,” Techno starts gently, walking closer and crouching in front of Phil’s crying form. He sits next to him after a moment, and carefully pulls Phil into his lap.

He rubs Phil’s back, immediately noticing how small Phil is. Normally regressed, aged four to five, Phil is bubbling with laughter, constantly smiling and rushing off on a new imaginary adventure.

Techno presses a kiss to Phil’s temple in a feeble attempt to stop his tears. Phil buries his face in Techno’s chest. Despite being, age-wise, older than Techno, the Piglin hybrid is bigger than him, which has come in handy more times than either of them can count.

“What’s wrong, Munchkin?” Techno asks, poking Phil gently in the belly- an action that always makes Phil burst into giggles.

It works, and Phil laughs, pulling back a bit. When he’s done laughing, Phil fidgets with Techno’s shirt, looking shy. “‘m little,” He starts, though the way he says it sounds like ‘liddle’.

Giving him a playful smile, Techno gently attacks his sides, “I noticed.” He quips back over Phil’s childish sounding cackles at being tickled.

“Techie!” Phil giggles, calming down a little. “You’s silly.” He says, poking Techno in the snout, falling into giggles again when Techno goes cross-eyed to look at his finger.

He smiles gently at Phil, and the regressed boy cuddles into his chest, sleepy from all his laughing.

Techno kisses his head again, feeling Phil relax even further against him at the action. “I love you’s, Techie.” Phil murmurs softly.

Slowly, Techno removes his cape, and lays it on Phil and himself. “I love you too, Munchkin.” He says. Phil moves a little, and Techno’s heart absolutely melts when Phil gives Techno a bashful kiss on the cheek.

Chapter Text

Niki jumps up and down on Eret’s couch, giggling sweetly. She’s slipping slowly, jumping from feeling around ten, toward five.

“Bunny, be careful please.” Eret says, looking at the jumping girl with a soft smile.

The little pouts a bit, but giggles as she jumps into Eret’s arms. Dream lets out a soft ‘oof’, and wraps his arms around Niki to avoid letting the regressed girl fall to the ground.

Niki squirms in Eret’s arms for a few moments, and she sticks out her tongue when Eret lets her stand on her own.

“‘m hungry!” Niki says, jumping up and down eagerly again. “Get snacks?” She asks. Eret lets out a small laugh, and he nods, making the pink haired girl squeal with happiness.

Niki immediately takes to running into the kitchen, and Eret slowly walks behind him. “What do you wanna eat, Bunny?” Eret asks.

Looking thoughtful, Niki taps her fingers on the counter. “Can I have fruit?” Niki asks, looking up at Eret with soft, questioning eyes.

Giving her a smile, Eret nods, “Of course, Bun. You want oranges?” He asks. Niki giggles, nodding happily. “An’ apples, an’ banana, an’- an’-“ She cuts herself off with a happily little laugh.

“Why’re you so excited today?” Eret asks, grabbing the fruits, a plate, and a knife. Niki claps her hands, “Daddy! You know why I’s excited!” She says with a laugh.

It was true- Niki was going to have a playdate with Wilbur today, and she’d been practically vibrating with excitement all day.

“I do, I do.” Eret concedes, “Are you ready to see Wilbur?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

Just as he expected, Niki nods vigorously, a bright smile, edging on a beam, on her face. “Mhm mhm! So excited to see Wilby! Little brother!” Niki says happily.

Despite being actually older, Wilbur regressed to around two or three, maybe four if he really wanted to be bigger and more playful. Thus, Niki, when they were both regressed, had taken the self appointed role of being his older sister.

“That’s good!” Eret says, smiling gentlyy at te regressed girl. “Let’s get you dressed in play clothes, then, hm?” He asks, pushing the plat full of fruit toward her.

“After eat?” Niki asks, picking up a piece of orange and eating it happily.

“After you eat.” Eret affirms. Niki gives him another beaming smile, and eats her sweet tasting fruit quickly.

When the girl was finished, she pushed her paper plate toward Eret. “Thank you for the food, Daddy.” Niki says sweetly.

Eret helps her down from her seat, “No problem, Bunny. What clothes do you wanna wear?” He asks, letting her hold his hand as they walked to the little’s bedroom.

The room was painted pastel pink, and had a plethora of soft stuffies and even softer blankets. Her bed was fluffy and massive with all her blankets and pillows, decorated with the occasional stuffie. It was a room fit for a only the littlest of princesses.

Eret can’t fight the smile on his face as niki squeals, opening her drawers and chests full of fluffy, hand made by Eret, dresses, cute, spiny skirts, and adorable shirts that tucked into her shorts or skirts.

Finally, after a moment of rummaging messily, Niki pulls out a pair of denim, pastel blue overalls. With it, Niki has picked out a soft white shirt, and a pair of cute pink sneakers with adorable, cat themed pink socks that go up to her mid-calf.

Niki hands her caregiver the outfit, and Eret helps her out and in to her clothes. She jumps up and wiggles her feet as much as she can while standing, giggling at her socks.

Eret offers his hand again, “Princess?” He asks, knowing the nickname always made Niki giggly and happy, even if that didn’t seem possible.

Niki giggles loudly, though somehow the laughs are shy. Flushing, Niki puts her hand in Eret’s bashfully.

“Are you excited?” He asks again as they make their way through the castle’s corridors. Niki once again nods vigorously. “So excited!” She yells giddily.

Chapter Text

George honestly didn’t know why he was in such a needy mood today, considering most days he was standoffish and distant.

It didn’t really matter, though. All that mattered to regressed, little George was getting all of his caregiver’s clothes so he could make a cuddle pile.

He was teetering on around six, perfectly big enough to do everything on his own!

So, as a big boy, George started in Dream’s room. Most of the clothes were clean, and George didn’t want to resort to laundry just yet.

As he looks at Dream’s clothes, George bites his lip a little. Okay, so maybe he didn’t want Dream’s jeans, or anything that was too rough on his skin. The cuddle pile was supposed to be comfy, not itchy!

He compromised- which is not something George likes doing, especially when small, but Dream’s jeans and the occasional roughly textured shirt were definitely not touching his pile.

George grabs as many of Dream’s shirts and hoodies as he can, inhaling the comforting, familiar scent of his caregiver. It’s vaguely woodsy, the smell of freshly cut grass and bark from a tree seeping into the fabrics.

Rushing off to his bedroom, Dream’s clothes are promptly dropped onto George’s bed. Dazedly, with almost a haze covering his mind, George organizes the clothes into a circle, mixing with his own blankets and pillows.

After he’s done, George goes back to Dream’s room, this time intent on raiding his dresser. He grabs socks and pajamas. Then, the little, with only a little embarrassment, grabs Dream’s pillow, the one he uses the most. (how George knows this piece of information, he’ll never tell)

Finally done raiding his caregiver’s room, George scampers back to his room. The heavy smell of Dream is thick in George’s room, now, wafting through the air like there was a candle lit.

Just like before, George organizes the clothes with a carefulness never seen in him while little. He whines when something doesn’t fit right, like a little kid, frustrated when something doesn’t go their way.

But, eventually, George is cuddling up into Dream’s pillow, surrounded by Dream’s clothes. He feels like something is missing, but can’t place it.

Electing to ignore it, at least for now, George buries himself under a few layers of blankets and curls into a ball on his side, unbelievably comfy.

After a few minutes of George verging on sleeping, there’s a gentle knock at his door. He calls out a soft ‘come in’, and hears the door open with a small, quiet squeak!

When Dream walks in, George immediately knows he’d been the missing piece. If he were bigger, George would’ve cringed at the cliche, but since he’s small, he just makes grabby hands at his caregiver.

The other man gives a small laugh, and walks over, climbing up into the bed with the little. George grabs him, latching onto his and burying himself in the other.

Another laugh. “I was wondering where all my clothes went.” Dream teases quietly, making George flush. He’s slipping further, now, going younger just at the sight of his caregiver and the sound of his voice.

“Missed you.” George murmurs into his caregiver’s chest. Underneath him, he physically feels Dream melt.

A hand comes up to rub his back, making George relax further into him. “I know. Sorry, Button. Sapnap needed help with something.” He says.

Jealousy curls in the little’s tummy. Dream is his caregiver! Not Sapnap’s, not anyone else’s! George lifts his head with a noticeable pout, and pulls at Dream’s hoodie.

Looking amused, Dream pulls a little at his hoodie. “You want it?” He asks, tone light and teasing.

George nods, too little to really be embarrassed.

Dream gives another laugh, though this one is soft, and achingly domestic. He tugs the hoodie over his head swiftly, and hands it to George with a smile. “Here ya’ go, Button.”

The little explodes with giggles when he pulls on the hoodie. It’s big on him, and fluffy and soft and smells just like his caregiver.

George practically melts into a puddle of mush as he cuddles up against his caregiver again, not bothering to pull on blankets with how warm his chest feels.

Chapter Text

The first time Phil realizes he’s regressing, he’s incredibly embarrassed. Almost immediately, he’s big again, forcing himself to be bigger out of shame and fear.

It’s not like he’s disgusted by the idea of regression or finds it shameful for others to do it. Hell, he’s the caregiver of four littles! But, the thought that Phil needs to regress… He just finds it, odd, really. He’s a grown man- thirty two years old! He shouldn’t need to regress or act like a child to deal with his problems.

“You okay, Phil?” Ranboo asks, voice nervous and soft. His words snap Phil out of his thoughts, and Phil looks over at him with slightly big eyes.

“Um, yeah, mate. I’m okay. You leaving?” Phil asks, motioning with Ranboo’s form by the doorway. Ranboo looks a little embarrassed, but nods. “Yeah, sorry. Tubbo needs me to visit Snowchester.” He says. Phil waves him off, “It’s fine, mate. Bye.” He says.

Ranboo waves his hand a little before leaving, and Phil is left in Techno’s house. He’d begun to stay at the Piglin hybrid’s ever since they’d blown L’Manburg to smithereens. Techno, however, was rarely ever home. Really, Phil could’ve just accepted his regression and just regressed by himself all the time, with how much Techno was gone.

The thought of regressing is enough to start Phil down at a steep slope. His mind goes slightly fuzzy, and his eyes water a little. He wants Techno to be home more. When he’d first come to live with him, Techno had stayed home practically everyday. Now, he was rarely even there when Phil awoke in the mornings.

He picks at Techno’s couch, and bites at his lips. It’s a nervous habit that he’s picked up after years of stress. Phil stands up, wobbling, and waddles to his bedroom, nervously looking around as if he’s expecting someone to appear out of nowhere.

Inside his room, hidden away in his closet, is a light green colored pacifier with a protective case on it, and a light beige fluffy stuffed bear with a little bowtie. Phil grabs both of them, and sets them on his bed. The two items are a small collection compared to the large hoards of little gear that all his littles have. He’d buy them a multitude of things, ranging from pacis to toys.

Phil sits up on his bed, removing the protective case from his paci before popping it in his mouth, and cuddles into his bear, nicknamed ‘Winnie.’

“‘M sorry didn’t talk to you fo’ a while, Winnie,” Phil murmurs, looking at the bear with childishly kind eyes. “I’s busy busy! Techie needs lotsa help gettin’ stuff, an’ big me’s gots littles to take care of.” Phil rambles, his lisp heavy with how little he was getting, and the paci definitely wasn’t helping.

With another look at Winnie, the paci falls from his mouth, and Phil bites his lip as it wobbles with the oncoming of tears. “Dey wan’ m’ to do so much. ‘S weally hard.” He says as tears start to dribble down his cheeks.

Burying his face in the bear’s fur, Phil lets out a small, soft sob. He wraps his arms around the fluffy sleep toy tightly, his tears wetting the bear’s fabric. “‘M wan’ Tom-Tom.” Phil pouts, pulling away slightly from the bear.

He grabbed at his comm, which was next to his bed on the night stand. He scrolls through his contacts with a dozy mind, before he finds Tommy’s and, with only a little hesitation, messages the other.

Dadza
hey tom-tom? cans u com over? m feelin smal n techies not here

Phil nestles back into his bear, and lays down on his pillows, curling up on himself. The pacifer is placed back onto the night stand, and Phil ignores the frequent buzzing from his comm, and lets his eyes slip close.

***

“Buddy? Wakey, wakey!” Tommy’s form is in front of him, and Phil whines at being woken up from his nap. Tommy’s face softens even further when he realizes that Phil is still little, and coos at the little.

Phil buries his face in Winnie’s head, but Tommy is never one for giving up, so he presses further. “Oh! What’s your bear’s name, Bud?” Tommy asks gently.

Pouting, Phil looks up and hides his bear in his chest, and mutters out a sleepy, “Winnie. She’s m’ frien’.” He says. Tommy gives him a smile, “That’s fun! Do you have any other friends? Or any paci’s or teethers?” He asks.

Phil shakes his head, and Tommy looks sadden by his admission. “Well that’s just won’t do! You want Techie and Wilby to bring you some things?” He asks. Phil brightens considerably at the idea of getting more little things, and nods his head excitedly.

The other grabs Phil’s hand, and pulls him up from his bed gently, and, grabbing Phil’s pacifier, drags the two of them into the living room, quickly sending a text to Wilbur and Techno.

“Here we go! Techie and Wilby will be here soon, Bud. Do you wanna watch a movie while we wait?” Tommy asks, grabbing the remote. Phil sucks on his pacifier thoughtfully, and nods a little, “Watch Mulan?” Phil asks, looking hopeful.

Tommy nods enthusiastically, and turns it on quickly. “Good choice, Buddy!” He says, over exaggeratedly happy, making Phil giggle, “T’ank you!”

After thirty minutes, and the movie halfway done, Techno and Wilbur appear, arms full of stuffed toys, teethers, sippies, pacifiers, and a plethora of coloring books and coloring supplies. Phil gasps in excitement when he sees all his new items, and claps happily. “T’ank you, t’ank you!” He shrieks through his pacifier.

Wilbur ruffles his long blond hair, and all three of the new, self appointed caregivers give the little bright smiles.

Chapter Text

After discovering Tommy’s coping mechanism of regressing Sam had spent three days programming Sam Nook and The Warden to realize when Tommy was little, and too alert him personally when he was.

Luckily, Tommy was around Sam frequently enough that Sam Nook and the Warden had never had to contact him.

Just like now. Tommy was grinning playfully at him, sitting on his lap with Fran curled up next to them on the couch. “Papa?” Tommy asks, tilting his head.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Sam asks. Tommy boops his nose before asking, “What’s your favorite color?”

Sam lets out a fond sigh- this had, as of recent, become a common question when Tommy was in little space.

“My favorite color’s green, silly baby.” Sam boops Tommy’s nose right back. Tommy lets out a soft giggle. “What’s your favorite color?” Sam asks.

The little claps lightly, “Red! Red!” He says. Sam coos at the boy’s cuteness.

After a few moments of quiet bliss, Tommy moves away from where he’d laid his head on Sam’s chest. “I’m bigger than you.” He says through loud giggles, dragging out the ‘you.’

A laugh escaped Sam at that- that was a new one. “Is that so?” He says. Both of them pointedly ignore how tiny Tommy looks, sitting in Sam’s lap.

“Mhm! Simple as that!” Tommy nods, a wide smile on his lips. He’s practically beaming at his caregiver, and it makes Sam’s heart warm.

Sam lets out a gentle but hearty laugh, wrapping his arms around his little boy. “I dont know about that one. I very much think you’re my little angel.” He says, poking Tommy in the tummy, making the boy giggle.

When he’s done laughing, however, Tommy playfully glares at him. “Nu uh! I big man!” He says loudly.

Carefully shushing the regressed boy, Sam shakes his head, a pleasant smile on his face to let Tommy know he wasn’t mad. “Uh huh. You’re my little one, my little baby.” He says teasingly.

“Don’t ‘pose me like that, Papa!” Tommy says, gently hitting Sam’s chest.

Gently grabbing the boy’s wrist as to stop him from hitting, Sam presses a kiss to his forehead. “I think you’re my little one, honey.”

Tommy pouts a little, but relaxes into Sam’s hold, letting his head rest on Sam’s shoulder.

The scene is adorably domestic, and it makes Sam’s heart well with love for his boy, his son. Sam had long since given up on having children of his own, even though he was a very fatherly man.

When he was younger, Sam had dreamed of packing lunches, and making little ‘I love you’ notes. He had excited told his mother about wanting little ones, and wanting to give them everything he had never gotten growing up.

It felt like the universe was giving him a chance.

Tommy lifts his head up from Sam’s chest again, and gives him a childishly mischievous smile. “Hey, Papa?” He asks.

“Yeah, hon?” Sam asks.

Giggling, Tommy asks, “What’s your favorite color?”

Another fond sigh. The universe is nothing but a trickster.

Chapter Text

Tommy was fiddling with his hair, looking in the mirror with inspecting eyes. Techno and Wilbur had left for supplies a while ago, and Tommy and Phil were left to their own devices.

“Bubby! Bubby!” A loud voice calls, making Tommy turn toward his bedroom door. Phil is standing there, grinning and giggling while holding something behind his back.

A smile appears on Tommy’s face, and he enthusiastically asks, “What’s up, Dimples?”

Giggling, Phil walks closer, not quite showing Tommy what he has. “Guess what!” He shouts playfully, smiling widely. Tommy raises a teasing brow, “What, sweetheart?”

Phil jumps up and down excitedly a little, “I gots somet’in’ fo’ you!” He says, giggling madly.

“Oh, really?” Tommy prompts, unable to stop his smile from growing even larger. Phil nods vigorously, and Tommy continues, “What is it?”

Jumping with a squeal, Phil shows Tommy his hands, which hold dead twigs and leaves, along with the occasional blade of grass or moss, along with pine needles. Tommy gasps excitedly, “Oh my goodness!”

The little beams at him, a small bashful blush reddening his cheeks. “T’igs and leaves! Dey jus’ fo’ you!” Phil says happily, pushing the small nesting material into Tommy’s hands.

Tommy holds them carefully, making sure not to drop a single pine needle. “Oh, thank you sweetie. They’re so nice!” He says happily. Phil’s wings fluff and flutter with delight.

“Hehe! T’ank you! Dey fo’ a nest!” He says, clapping his hands. Tommy’s heart melts. Phil, being a raven hybrid, loved to collect small things- especially when he was little. It was one of his favorite things, to gift small items for nests, despite none of the rest of them being bird hybrids.

Giving the little a kiss on his forehead, Tommy smiles at him gently. “Of course I do, baby. You picked out the bestest twigs just for me, they’re amazing!” He says, feigning more enthusiasm as to keep the little happy.

Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t happy. His heart was practically melting as Phil giggled and clapped with happiness.

Phil gives him a bright smile, “Yay! ‘M glad you like dem!” He squeals. “It took m’ a long time to pick all of dem fo’ you!” He says. Tommy sets the small items on his table, and pulls Phil into a tight, tight hug.

Cooing, Tommy nuzzles his nose against Phil’s head. “Aww, thank you honey. I love them so much.” He says.

“Yay!” Phil says happily.

“You wanna go gather some for Techie and Wilby?” He asks, petting the boy’s soft, strawberry blond curls.

Phil gasps excitedly, like he hadn’t thought of that, and nods vigorously, pulling on Tommy’s hand immediately and starting to try and pull Tommy out of his bedroom.

A small laugh pushed past Tommy’s lips, and he follows without hesitation. Today’s gonna be good, he knows.

Chapter Text

“Are you little?” Techno asks bluntly, not bothering to whisper it. There was a camera and a microphone in here so Sam could listen to whatever they said.

Shyly, Dream nods, fiddling with his orange prison jumpsuit.

Physically, he looks small, too, all hunched over and thin from lack of regular food. Techno walks over, and crouches in front of the admin, ruffling his blond locks lightly.

With a sigh, Techno opens his cape, revealing a small bag full of Dream’s little gear, the stuff he’d had before being sent to prison.

Dream perks up at the sight of his little gear, and Sam, watching intently, feels dread pool in his stomach.

They’d sentenced a little to prison, and by the way Dream had been acting these last few months in his cell, the boy had been regressed a lot, sobbing that he hadn’t committed all the gruesome things they claimed he did.

“Bear?” Dream murmurs, the words slurred and lisped. Techno smiles a little at the mentally younger than average boy, and empties the bag of the boy’s toys, pacis, and a plethora of other small things.

Techno presses a kiss to the other’s temple, humming, “Yeah, bubbles. Bear’s here.” He says.

The nickname, Sam notices, seems to further regress the boy, and Dream pulls Techno into a hug, much weaker than he used to due to his headspace and how much thinner he’s gotten in the past few months.

It makes his heart ache, to think that Dream had been little while in his cell- alone and scared out of his mind while little.

Dream cuddles deeply into his caregiver, “‘M missed you.” He mumbles, eyes getting wet with his quickly regressing mind.

A strong arm wraps itself around him, and Dream melts into the comfort of Techno, his caregiver, his Bear. Techno squeezes him gently, a silent reminder that he’s here.

“I missed you too, bubbles. Do you wanna play, or do you wanna just cuddle? We have an hour to do whatever you want.” Techno reassures.

Pulling away a little, Dream shyly mumbles out, “Cans we jus’ cuddle? ‘N wan’ m’ paci, p’ease?” Dream asks, sounding almost nervous- like he expected Techno to say no.

Obviously, Techno gives him a calming smile, and grabs his paci- which has a protective covering on it as to not let it get dirty. Techno pulls the plastic covering off and pops it into Dream’s mouth, before pulling the little onto his lap.

Absently, Dream sucks on the pacifier, cuddling into Techno, trying to steal all the comfort he can from his caregiver. Techno puts his chin on top of Dream’s head protectively, glaring into the security camera.

“I’ll be here tomorrow, too, baby. Just in case you’re still little.” Techno says quietly, rubbing the boy’s back up and down.

Dream nods, his eyes drooping a little. “Been little lots.” He murmurs quietly to his caregiver.

Techno feels rage swell in his gut, the voices screeching that he should steal Dream, take him to the safety of Techno’s home. Dream is his little, his baby, he’d be damned if he let anyone hurt him.

He nods, trying to ignore the rage. “I know, baby. I know. And I’ll be here every day if I have to.” He murmurs into Dream’s fluffy hair.

Before the two of them know it, an hour has passed and the lava starts to fall, allowing the two of them to see Sam on the other side of the mote.

“Okay, baby. It’s time for Bear to go, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says, trying to ignore the urge to just scoop Dream up and bust him out of this hellhole.

Tears collect in Dream’s eyes, and he asks weakly, “Bear? Leavin’?” His voice is shaky and painful to listen to.

Sam, on the other side of the mote, makes a split second decision. “Take him, Techno.” He shouts, making Dream flinch. Techno twists to look at the other man, and furrows his brows.

“Take him, and go before I change my mind.” Sam yells, knowing, deep down, he wouldn’t change his mind.

Techno feels his chest lighten, even though he hadn’t realized how heavy it was.

So he does scoop Dream up in his arms, gathering all of the boy’s little gear and rushing to the edge of the cell, looking determined and protective.

Confused, childish questions come from Dream, but Techno, with a heavy heart, doesn’t acknowledge him as he steps in time with the platform.

“Hurry home, now, Techno.” Sam says once Techno makes it to the other side. His only response is a subtle nod, and Techno rushes out of the prison, and toward his home.

Chapter Text

The prison was officially off of lockdown. Tommy can finally be laid to rest. Sam’s heart feels heavy, and his hands shake with violent tremors as he pulls the lever to lower the lava.

His eyes harden with hatred when the first thing he sees in the cell is Dream, the green wearing bastard. Stepping onto the moving platform, Sam moves toward the cell with fury in his veins and sorrow in his heart.

“Where is he?” His tone is cold, and rough. Sam will never admit to his son’s murderer that his voice is rough because of how much he has cried. Dream gives him a sarcastic grin that Sam wishes to punch off of him. He motions toward the bed Sam had, reluctantly, put in the cell, after Bad had made a ruckus about the lack of comfort in Dream’s cell.

Sam rushes toward the boy, his boy, and starts to collect Tommy in his arms, as if he was just a young, sleepy child.

To his complete and utter shock, Tommy starts to stir, moving a little as sleepy noises come from him. His heart feels stricken, and Sam almost considers calling himself crazy- imagining his dead son is awaking in his arms.

But his son’s beautiful, beautiful cerulean blue eyes flutter open, and their eyes meet when he pulls back to look at Sam.

A sob erupts from his son after a moment, and Sam feels like he could do just the same.

Shock ricochets through his bones like a bullet running up and down his spine.

He finally manages to choke out, “Tommy?”

At his name, Tommy sobs even harder. Sam cuddles the boy into his chest, barely managing to shoot a glare at Dream. “Oh my god, oh my god,” Sam murmurs like a prayer into his boy’s blond curls.

“Papa, h-home.” Tommy whimpers, tears trailing down his, still a little chubby with baby fat, cheeks. For the second time today, Sam feels his heart seize.

Tommy’s little right now. He needs to get Tommy out of here, now.

Shushing him gently, Sam pushes the boy’s head into the crook of his neck and shoulder, blocking his view of Dream and the lava, the two things in this world he fears most.

“Your food will be late today. Your visiting privileges are revoked until further notice.” Sam says, voice loosing any and all emotion he’d had when talking to Tommy.

A nonchalant shrug is the only response he gets, and Sam is not ashamed to admit that he feels rage swell in his gut at the audacity of the other man.

He leaves quickly, then, softly cooing praises and promises to Tommy, who babbles adorable, childish nonsense right back. He only has half a mind on replacing all the traps as he leaves.

When they finally exit the prison, almost the entire server is waiting outside for them.

Some look heartbroken (really just the kids of the server, and Puffy), while others, Sam notes with disgust, look eager- excited to see, what they think to be- the corpse of a sixteen year old kid.

Because he removed his hand keeping Tommy’s head in place when they got outside, the little pops up to take in their surroundings.

Gasps ring out through the crowd, and Tommy looks over at the group with wide, curious eyes.

“Tommy?” The broken voice of Tubbo asks, moving toward the front of the crowd with Ranboo, Purpled, and Puffy flanking his sides. Said boy perks up at the sight of his best friend, and beams at him.

“Tubs! Boo, Purp! Mama!” Tommy squeals excitedly, the four of them all looking hopeful and disbelieving of what they’re seeing. Sam feels the same, really, even as he holds the boy in his arms.

The next person to step up in front of the gathering is Jack, looking purely enraged.

An angry finger is pointed toward his boy, and Sam tightens his hold on the little protectively, almost subconsciously. “How is he alive?!” Jack asks furiously, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed at the boy.

Sam glares right back, and he takes vicious glee in the way Jack takes a subtle step back away from him.

The little in his arms squirms, whining a bit, still mostly nonverbal. “Down, Papa!” Tommy pouts up at him. Sam puts the boy down gently next to him, and motions for Tubbo, Ranboo, Purpled, and Puffy and come over to his side.

The four other people in their small (actually quite big, considering it’s six people) family rush over, protectively crowding around Tommy.

“I don’t know why he’s alive, I’m just as surprised as all of you.” Sam begins. “But,” He pauses, one for dramatics and two to glare at the crowd before him. He fights the urge to smirk when some shrink back under his gaze. “It still stands that Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo, and Purpled will all be under my protection. Anyone who tries to hurt them will be put on trial for child endangerment.”

The words ring loud, and by God, do they ring clear.

“Does everyone understand?” Sam asks loudly, only a little satisfied with the murmurs and half hearted mutters of ‘yes’s.

Tommy tugs on his sleeve, then, “Papa? Go play with Tubs, Boo, Purp, ‘n Mama?” He asks in a small voice, almost as if he’s expecting to be told no. Sam smiles encouragingly at his son, nodding, “Of course, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

Sam can feel his heart in his throat as he looks at Techno’s retreating form. It’s barely noticeable, Techno’s adoration for his little, but Sam has always been observant- it’s in the way Techno hunches his shoulders as he carries Dream, and it’s evident by how he quickly removes his cape to cover the blond. It’s love, and it’s protection.

He’s never been close with Techno, but somehow, Sam knows Dream will be okay with the Piglin hybrid.

Techno feels the overwhelming urge to protect that and those of which he deems his. Phil had once explained it was because he was half Piglin.

That didn’t much explain the voices having the same reaction, though.

Every voice is a mixture of cheering because he rescued Dream, ‘aww’ing at the adorable little in his arms, or, a bit more frighteningly, a vicious screech to protect Dream, even at the cost of blood being shed.

“Goin’ home, Bear?” Dream asks sleepily, cozying up in Techno’s thick, woolen cape as he snuggles into his caregiver’s chest.

Techno hums softly, “We’re going home, Bubbles. You excited to see the dogs?”

Just as he expected, Dream positively brightens at the mention of dogs. “Doggies?” He asks excitedly, looking up at Techno with joy in his green eyes.

Despite himself, Techno lets out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, ‘doggies’.” His tone is light and playful, with only a hint of teasing.

Giggling, Dream claps his excitement. “Yay!” He squeals. The sequence of actions makes Techno’s heart melt.

“We p’ay with da doggies? ‘nd den cuddle ‘nd eat dinner?” Dream rambles as Techno finally gets far enough away from the SMP to deem putting Dream down safe.

A smile plays on his lips as Techno nods, letting the boy stand next to him. Dream quickly latches onto Techno’s hand. “We’ll do whatever you want to do, Bubbles.” Techno reassures.

The little gives him a shy smile. “T’ank you, Bear.” Dream says sweetly. Techno gives the other’s hand a gentle, comforting squeeze.

For the rest of the walk, it’s a comfortable silence. Dream grips Techno’s hand when he gets scared because of a far away mob, or if he just needs some comfort for a moment.

When Techno’s cottage comes into view, Techno smiles over at Dream, “We’re here!” He says, lacing his tone with enthusiasm.

Dream squeals eagerly, letting go of his hand in his excitement, and rushes the rest of the way. The little runs up the steps to Techno’s front door before turning to look back at the slowly approaching form of his caregiver.

“Hurry up, Bear! C’mon!” Dream calls out to him, childish, unfiltered happiness in his voice.

Techno lets out another small laugh, and finally gets to the top of the stairs, standing on the small platform in front of his door. “Do you wanna play with the doggies, first, Bubbles?” Techno asks kindly.

Nodding eagerly, Dream waves his hands up and down as he waits for Techno to open the door.

“Doggies!” Dream squeals, running into Techno’s house. Techno lets the boy play, setting down Dream’s bag of little gear on the couch so that the little could grab anything he needed easily.

Small giggles come from the living room as Techno sets to work on dinner in the kitchen.

Potatoes, Techno thinks, are easy and simple- but, Dream had only been feeding on potatoes while in prison, and Techno didn’t want the boy to have a breakdown or freak out. So, he settles on a sandwich for Dream.

Bread, ham, cheese, and a two pickles. Techno puts the items together into a sandwich and puts it on a paper plate.

He walks back into the living room, smiling gently at the scene he’s greeted with.

Dream, sucking on his pacifier, while surrounded by dogs, a happy, relaxed smile on his face. It warms Techno’s heart more than fire ever could.

“Hey, Bubbles.” Techno greets, stifling a laugh when Dream squeaks in surprise and looks over at him. “Bear, Bear! Food?” Dream asks quickly, gently moving the dog on his lap so he could stand up and wobble over to Techno.

Nodding, Techno grabs Dream’s hand, leading the two of them into the kitchen. “I made you a sandwich, but if you want more or something else, just ask.” Techno says, pulling out a stool at the counter and setting Dream on it.

Dream gives him another delighted grin, and takes the first bite of his sandwich.

After dinner, Techno dresses them both in pajamas, and sits down on the couch. He’s not surprised when Dream immediately clambers onto his lap.

A slow yawn escapes the sleepy little, and Dream buries himself into Techno’s chest, knowing he can rest easy in the protection of Techno’s home.

Chapter Text

Stress weighs heavily on Tommy’s shoulders as he lays down on his bed. Life has been hard- these past few days. First, Tubbo and him had gotten in a bit of a spat, and so the older teen had run off to Ranboo. Then, he was practically drowning in assignments, and he was falling behind in one of his classes.

It was all too, too much, and Tommy felt tears well up in his eyes. He just wanted to disappear forever.

“Toms?” His big brother, Techno, asked from behind him, probably in the doorway. Tommy hadn’t heard the door open, but he was probably too caught up in his thoughts.

A small whimper escapes Tommy. He was quickly slipping into little space, and he could already tell that he was going to be regressed smaller than normal. He just wants to be held.

His bubby’s voice is laced and dripping with concern, and he sounds closer, when he talks. “What’s wrong, baby?” Techno asks. Tommy rolled on to his back, and looks up at his bubby with teary eyes and flushed cheeks from his crying.

Gently, but quickly, Techno scoops the boy up in his arms like he was but a small toddler.

Tommy cuddles deeply into his bubby’s chest, making small cooing noises that have Techno’s heart melting and turning to goo inside his chest.

The older brother smiles gently at the, even younger in his headspace, boy in his arms. “There’s my little angel! How small are you, baby?” Techno asks, rubbing up and down the boy’s back soothingly.

Much too far into his regressed headspace, Tommy just stares blankly up at his caregiver.

Techno gives him a small smile after a moment, clearing understanding how tiny he was. “Oh, you’re just a small baby, aren’t you?” He says lightly, with only a hint of teasing in his tone as Techno wiggles his fingers against Tommy’s tummy.

Loud giggles comes from the boy, and he squeals at the tickling touches.

“Let’s go get you in some little boy clothes, yeah Toms?” Techno says once Tommy calms down.

Tommy squeals again in his agreement, babbling nonsense as Techno carries him over to the closet.

Inside are soft sweaters and childishly themed shirts, with shorts and overalls that Tommy wore when he was playing. Along with these, however, are a plethora of Wilbur, Phil, and Techno’s clothes.

“What ones do you wanna wear, little one?” Techno asks gently.

Looking through the clothes, Tommy pulls at a soft sweater, that Techno notices with a smile is his, and a pair of cotton, pajama shorts (that were Wilbur’s). “These ones?” Techno asks, pulling out the two articles of clothing.

Tommy nods quickly, babbling excitedly as he cuddles the clothes to his chest as Techno carries him over to his bed.

“Let’s get you get dressed, yeah baby?” Techno asks gently, pulling at Tommy’s shirt.

With the help of Techno, Tommy quickly was wearing his older brothers’s clothes. He looked so small in the pajama shorts and Techno’s much bigger sweater.

“Are you hungry, little one?” Techno asks, picking up the little again, resting him against his hip. Tommy babbles something that sounds like a ‘yes’, so Techno walks them both into the kitchen.

He sits the boy on a chair, and Tommy looks around the kitchen with wide, childish eyes.

“You want applesauce, baby?” Techno asks, taking out a small container of the applesauce from the fridge. Tommy makes grabby hands at the small food cup. A small laugh escapes Techno, and grabs a small, kiddy spoon.

He sits down next to the boy, only for Tommy to climb up into Techno’s lap. Techno opens the small cup of applesauce, and gets a small spoon full.

“Here you go, tiny one,” Techno murmurs, letting Tommy put his mouth around the spoon and messily eat the applesauce.

It’s adorable, how Tommy acts when in baby space. Techno feels his heart swell.

The boy continues to eat, or, more accurately, play with, the food, getting bits of it on all around his mouth and chin and cheeks.

When the food cup is empty, Techno grabs it and the spoon from the little, putting the spoon in the sink and the cup in the trash can. Tommy whines a little at the food on his face, so Techno grabs a napkin and, being careful of the rough napkin texture, wipes the food off the boy’s face.

“You did so good eating, baby.” Techno praises, making Tommy light up. It makes Techno chuckle a little. Tommy, no matter the headspace, loved any kind of praise.

Tommy makes grabby hands against at his caregiver. For a moment, Techno is confused, then realizes Tommy just wants to be picked up.

The boy is suspiciously light, and Techno makes a mental note to talk about his eating habits when he was big again as he carries Tommy to the couch.

He sits down first, then places Tommy on his lap, letting the boy squirm and get comfortable. Tommy finally finds a spot, and he leans on Techno’s chest, letting his eyes slip shut.

Chapter Text

Techno fiddles with his fingers, his shoulders hunched and heavy with stress. It’s unpleasant, the overwhelming feeling of anxiety that plagues his every move nowadays. Phil is gone, now, too, and Techno can’t help but sag down in defeat as he thinks of his old caregiver.

Rare, did they ever fight- even if they got into a spat, Phil was always rushing to fix any negative feelings in the relationship.

But… Techno couldn’t help but feel like this was different. Phil had been in a rage, annoyed the last few days when Techno had regressed and stressed Phil out even more.

At the time, Techno couldn’t understand why his Papa was angrily rushing out of the house, barely even sparing him a look other than a glare. Guilt had forced Techno back into his big headspace, and right before he was going to apologize, Phil had slammed the door to his cottage shut and flown off to L’Manburg.

So, now, Techno was by himself. Stressed and anxious and alone and on the verge edge of plummeting right into little space. The prospect of being alone while little just makes him even more nervous and he doesn’t know what to do!

A sob catches in his throat, and Techno curls in on himself on the couch. Blankets are on the floor and on the couch- all covered in fidget toys and stuffies. Techno isn’t quite little yet, but he knows to make everything comfy and nice for himself before he slips.

***

Quackity feels… something.

Something is wrong, and Quackity doesn’t know quite what. Dream is in prison, now, so it’s not that. Sapnap and Karl are asleep, in bed with him, safe and sound. Maybe Tommy? No, Tommy was staying with Ranboo and Tubbo in Snowchester right now- he was the safest with them.

Humming to himself, Quackity quietly and quickly gets out of bed, and leaves the house, wings fluttering for a few moments before lifting him and letting him take off into the air.

It’s fun and easy, to fly. Phil had long since taught him how after Dream had been put in prison. Huffing lightly, Quackity lets his eyes close and his wings guide him.

A few minutes later, however- Quackity is surprised to find himself at Techno’s cabin. It’s dark at this time, and Quackity worries that Techno might be hurt. That’s what surprises Quackity the most, though.

“Techno’s?” Quackity asks himself, rushing to the door. The lights are low and dimmed, and Quackity hopes Techno is okay. Why the hell am I so concerned? Quackity asks himself harshly, pushing the door open and letting his heart break at the sight he meets.

Techno, curled up on the couch, sobbing into his knees, surrounded by soft, pastel blankets and stuffies and other such toys. “Angel?” Quackity asks without hesitation, rushing over to the bigger man and pulling the crying little into his arms.

The other stiffens for a moment, before simply melting into Quackity’s arms. “Birdy,” Techno sobs into his neck, snuggling deeply into Quackity. Unable to help himself, Quackity wraps his wings around the little.

“Oh, angel, what’s got you all upset?” Quackity asks gently into Techno’s hair, cooing and chirping like a mother bird comforting it’s hatchling.

Techno whimpers, “Papa gots mad at m’, don’ know what did.” He explains pitifully. Quackity hums, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He pet the piglin boy’s pastel pink hair gently, cooing. “It’s okay, baby. You did nothing wrong. I’ll talk with your papa, mkay? He’ll apologize and baby you for hours, yeah? Would you like that?” His heart clenches at the cutest sight when Techno nods meekly.

“M’ sleepy, can stay wit’ me?” Techno asks quietly, looking up at Quackity through thick eyelashes and sleepy eyes. “Of course, angel.” Quackity says, smiling at the boy.

Chapter Text

It was stupid, to get so scared over a silly horror game. But, Wilbur and Schlatt were forced to play Silent Hill 2 during stream because of a subgoal. And now, both of them were on the cusp of little space, in front of a live audience in front of thirty-seven thousand people.

Schlatt had begun to slip before Wilbur, but the idea of Schlatt being in little space during stream made Wilbur anxious, and anxious Wilbur always slipped into little space, and so now both of them were desperately trying to finish this task so they could end stream and cuddle with Mutti and Momma.

“Wilby,” Schlatt murmurs, too quietly for the mic to pick it up, his voice edging on a whine. “M’ wan’ stop.” He slurs, “G’ cuddle.” Wilbur nods, pausing the game. Chat spammed by, ‘what did he say’ and ‘AAAAAAAAA’ common comments.

Wilbur smiles at his camera, “We’ll pick this up another time. Schlatt has to go do something.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, though both of creators know exactly what they’ll be doing when the cameras go off. Cuddling with their caregivers and watching Finding Nemo, or some other silly disney movie that kept them small and little.

Grinning, Schlatt laughs. Both of them are excited for downtime, the time right after streaming where both of them are probably little or edging on being small.

“See ya’ later, Chat!” Wilbur says, giggling to himself as he ends stream. Schlatt sags in relief. “Fin’lly! Let go ge’ Mutti ‘nd Momma!” He says excitedly, pulling on Wilbur’s arm insistently. Wilbur was slipping, but he could already tell Schlatt was little. Schlatt giggles as Wilbur starts to walk with him, “Mutti! Momma!” He yells happily.

Jumping up and down, Schlatt jumps into Minx’s arms when both women appear. Wilbur fiddles with his fingers, waving shyly at Niki. Little Wilbur was always shy and meek, just wanting cuddles and kisses from his caregivers. Niki and Minx were always quick to appease these things, of course.

Minx ruffles Schlatt’s hair after she takes his hat off, grinning at him. “Hi, brat.” Minx says, glancing over at Niki and Wilbur. “I’ll go get Schlatt in his little boy clothes. You get the little monster some snacks?” Minx teases, booping Wilbur’s nose, making the tall but (mentally) younger boy giggle.

Niki nods, gently grabbing Wilbur’s hand and leading him to the kitchen. The pantry is full of snacks, but the second to highest shelf is full of snacks specific for when Schlatt and Wilbur were in little space.

“Mutti?” Wilbur asks meekly, fidgeting with his shirt, now. Niki’s already soft heart melts at the adorable sight. “Yes, little lamb?”

Wilbur points to the graham crackers, “Can have those?” He asks softly, looking over at Niki with wide, childish eyes. With his lack of tastebuds, Wilbur only really enjoyed the textures of foods. Graham crackers were a favorite of his when little.

Niki gives him an encouraging smile, “Of course, lamb!” Niki murmurs, grabbing the graham cracker box and a few other snacks and candies- equal on what Schlatt likes, and what Wilbur does.

Both of them walk into the living room, setting up the snacks on the coffee table and gathering up blankets and pillows on the couch and floor. “Junebug should be done getting his little clothes on by now, okay? Let’s go get you in comfy clothes now.” Niki murmurs gently, guiding the mentally four year old boy to the group bedroom.

Just like Niki said, Schlatt is in a comfy onesie, playing with his favorite stuffed animal ram as Minx gathered pacis and toys for a movie and cuddles night. “Hi, Wilby!” Schlatt yells happily.

Wilbur waves a gentle hand again, smiling a little at the mentally younger boy. “Hi, Bubby.” Niki coos at the cute interaction, grabbing Wilbur’s fluffy, bunny pajamas and his stuffie- a blue minecraft sheep Wilbur had affectionately named ‘Friend.’

When they’re all dressed and ready, Niki and Minx take both of them back to couch. Wilbur and Schlatt immediately start to cuddle on the couch, nuzzling into one another as Mutti and Momma start to play Finding Dory. Close enough, Wilbur thinks as he hazily watches the Disney movie.