Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alright, my lovely, lovely bitches, here's how this is going to go:

1. You can comment and leave suggestions for future chapters, I'd love to see what you guys got stored in those noggins of yours.

2. I already have some of the pairings/dynamics listed, so please, if you're asking for something, refer to those specifics (I'll also be putting them below).

3. No sexual themes, please. Non-sexual age regression only. It's just what I'm comfortable with at the moment. Maybe that will change in the future but right now, that's how it is.

Pairings (so far, feel free to leave suggestions and I'll let you know if I'm able):

- Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter (Draco is the little, Harry is the caregiver)

- Violet Harmon/Tate Langdon (Violet is the caregiver, Tate is the little)

- Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich (Ian is the caregiver, Mickey is the little)

- Cha Hyun Su/Pyeon Sang Wook (Cha Hyun Su is the little, Pyeon Sang Wook is the caregiver)

- Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian (Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji is the little, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian is the caregiver)

- Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove (Steve is the caregiver, Billy is the little)

(There will be more pairings to come and you can feel free to suggest other pairings and/or switch out certain characters in already established pairings.)

Don't be shy, people. Hop on in and join the fun!

Chapter Text

Draco wasn’t quite sure how this came to be. He’d for sure thought he’d be assigned as a dominant, perhaps a master, anything over than this – a little. How could they even think to give him this lowly of a classification? He wouldn’t stand for it, he couldn’t! It was humiliating. No one else in Slytherin had been deemed a little, someone so dependent, a drooly, bloody fucking baby. He saw how people's eyes widened when it was spoken into fruition, openly to the entire dining hall. Some students in Gryffindor had covered their mouths, snickering behind their hands. He didn’t get to look at any further houses before he high-tailed it out of there, rushing down the hallway with pathetic tears clouding his vision. 

This just couldn’t be. It wasn’t right! Merlin, father would be up in arms about this, and mother...well, he wasn’t sure how she’d react, most likely with some form of pity. He wouldn’t be able to take the disgust, disappointment, and hatred in their eyes. Just the thought made a hiccupped sob break free from his burning throat. He brings his hand up to hide the sound, gripping his face so tightly that it hurts, causing more tears to spring to his eyes as he turns the corner. He doesn’t get much further, though, letting out an ‘oof’ as he bumps into something firm and warm, stumbling and landing right on his butt. 

He knows it’s nothing. It hadn’t even been painful or serious but something about falling to the ground so helplessly sends him spiraling, more muffled sobs escaping him before a shaky wail erupts past his pink, trembling lips, hands uselessly falling to his sides. Draco didn’t bother looking up, too preoccupied with his own emotions, and simply – he'd forgotten that easily, his head quickly growing fuzzy as if it was filling with cotton. 

“Malfoy?” 

Chapter Text

Tate knew he wasn’t normal.

He had always known, to some extent. While he was alive, he’d shot up his school, killed classmates, set his almost-stepdad on fire, and done so much coke that he’s surprised he hadn’t died from an overdose rather than the bullets put through his chest by the swat team in his childhood bedroom. He knows that he’d done even worse, debatably, in his death. Rape, assault, manipulation, even more murder - it was never-ending, though he supposes something in him never let him believe he’d have to suffer the consequences for his actions. He’d been abandoned, left to rot with the more unsavory ghosts that lingered inside of the house they were all trapped in, forced to watch as Violet, Vivien, and Ben all got to be a happy family once again with their new baby, courtesy of him.

Now, jealousy isn't a new feeling to him. He’s felt it on and off for as long as he could remember. Seeing kids at school with their functional families, being coddled by their parents and praised. He’d felt it when he watched the couples in the hallways or on TV. Why couldn’t he have that? This form of jealousy, however, was new. He was jealous of the baby being cradled in the Harmon family’s arms. He didn’t know why but his blood boiled every time he witnessed their care from the shadows he’d been banished to. It wasn’t like he could kill it; it was already dead - they all were but that didn’t stop him from fantasizing about it. Still, he kept his cool, holding back and waiting. It had been years, he wasn’t sure how many, but it felt like an eternity already. Families had come and gone, all trying to settle down before soon running to the hills, screaming their lungs out, leaving all their things behind which were divided up by the occupants of the house for themselves.

Tate had collected his own things over that time, managing to fill up a cardboard box that he kept next to him in the basement, lounging on a dirty mattress pushed into the furthest corner. It wasn’t ideal but what did he have to complain about?

Though he knew the Harmons still hated his guts, reasonably so, but they had begun to come around even if it was small interactions. It had taken Violet the longest, of course. She had the most rage built up for him. He was surprised Vivien and Ben had even dared to speak to him, Vivien especially, but he was grateful. He’d made sure to try and convey that as best as he could, but he was a psychopath, Ben had diagnosed him himself. 

He’d been feeling…more since the baby, well, babies, had been born, though. As if it had drained something out of him but he wasn’t entirely sure what, and he didn’t like what these new feelings came with. Before, he could live off of hatred, disappointment, or anything of the sort but now the things that swarmed him were desperation, an inherent need for acceptance, human contact, longing, guilt - and loneliness. It all felt so displaced. His mind was a jumbled mess that wouldn’t shut off, screaming at him constantly. It made him so incredibly exhausted.

Tate hadn’t really known what he was doing until it was too late. One second, he was standing in the kitchen, watching Ben and Vivien fuss over the forever newborn in their arms, eyeing the forgotten pacifier sat on the counter, and the next, he was in the basement, said pacifier clutched so tightly in his pale hand that it was a miracle it hadn’t crumbled to pieces. He stares down at it once he opens his hand, red indentations from it digging into his palm. It’s unassuming, baby blue and small, such an innocent symbol of infancy. He sucks in a shaky breath despite not needing to, his throat bobbing with an audible gulp. He plops down on his worn mattress, still staring at it before he slowly brings it up and pops the rubber nipple into his mouth. He gives it a tentative suck before his shoulders slump. It felt…good. It was nice, something so simple, making his brain fuzz over with TV static as he leaned back. He stares up at the ceiling, pacifier bobbing quietly up and down with each light suckle. He doesn’t even notice the sound of the door to the top of the stairs opening or the footsteps that follow.

“Tate, I saw you take the pacifier from upstairs, what’re you- …doing?”

His eyes widen and he lurches up at the familiar voice, his throat tightening at the sight of Violet standing in front of him, her arms crossed and a confused expression coating her soft face. “Are you…using my baby brother’s pacifier?” She asks, trying to process exactly what she was witnessing.

Tate is quick to shake his head, practically wrenching the item from his mouth before he stammers. “N-No! I was just- I…I wasn’t!” It’s not very convincing, combined with the fact Violet wasn’t blind.

“Okay…well, uh, I’m just going to take it back upstairs then. He’s having a fit and won’t shut up. Mom and dad are about to blow a fuse,” Violet says, taking a hesitant step forward before grabbing the pacifier from Tate’s hand and taking a quick step back. Tate nods, though he can’t think of anything that would smooth this over.

“Just don’t…tell anyone, okay, Violet? Please?” There’s a desperation in his voice that she hasn’t heard for a long time, the sight of his teary eyes doing enough for her to nod silently to him.

“Okay, Tate.”