#sfw agere drabble

[the-universal-sun]

little!stan crying for his mama on hanukkah with cg ford and/or fidds?

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy First Day of Hanukkah! I set this to post at 8 am but it looks like I set it wrong, my apologies! Thank you so much to this lovely anon for the idea of Stan crying over his mother, this helped me form the direction of the drabble-the part that kept stumping me and to @thehessianslady for the sweater idea! I enjoyed writing this so much, and I hope you all enjoy reading this!

I hope you guys had a lovely holiday/will have a lovely holiday, but to any who are struggling or are feeling alone right now, know that I am always in your corner. I will always believe in you and I will always be proud of any of your accomplishments, little or small, nothing is insignificant. I am always open to talk if you need someone, for anything. To vent, rant, or to just chat so you have something to do! I am always here for you guys, and I thank you all for giving me so much love and support!

I truly AM sending all of you all the Love in the entire world!

XOXO

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     The winter air was crisp and freezing outside the Shack, wind howling against the windows, promising frostbite for any who dared to venture out unprepared. Inside, however, was warm and cozy, the scent of cinnamon mixing in an oddly delightful way with the scent of potatoes. The soft glow of twinkling lights and flickering candles lit up the living room of the Shack-a fun mix of Christmas and Hanukkah decorating the space. Stan sat on the floor, bundled in a sweater two sizes too big for him, a homemade gift by Fiddleford. It was matching Ford's, both sweaters reminiscent of their childhood Dreidal sweater, but softer and with snowflakes adorning the ends. Stan had begged and begged for his twin to wear the sweater, giving him his patented Puppy Dog Eyes and wobbling his lips for added effect. It worked like a charm, Ford being weak to Stan when he was feeling small. Too bad Fidds didn't want to wear his special sweater that he picked out himself. Stan smiled widely and giggled as he built and knocked over his new blocks, Poindexter sat next to him and his new friend, an Oppossum he named "Shanklin 2". He woke up to so many presents for him; presents for when he's small and presents for when he's big! Stan thinks he loves Christmas if he's getting gifts just for being good. And he got to play with his new toys all day long, neither Sixer or Fidds telling him to grow up or anything. He felt free-free to play and to indulge in his fuzzy mindset, the holiday spirit soothing him and wrapping around him like a warm blanket. The only thing that's missing is an ugly sweater on Fidds and his Ma'. Except he can't talk to his Ma', not now when he knows the old man's home, surrounded by the super annoying aunties and uncles who were probably told to shun him back when he was kicked out. His head's too fuzzy and small to talk to her now anyways, his tongue not wanting to move to speak right, if he managed to say anything, he'd probably sound like a baby. Or drunk.

     Stan shakes his head to get rid of those sad and grown-up thoughts, grabbing his sippy cup half full of warmed cocoa-he can't stand to wait for hot drinks to cool down, burning his tongue too many times but never learning his lesson-and trying to focus on everything else. The pretty lights and ornaments in their tree-he's never had a Christmas tree before, Stan got to help decorate it and he even was allowed to put the star on! The Menora and the first two candles, the flames looking super pretty against the rainbow-colored Christmas Lights. He let it all wash over him, feeling his head get fuzzier and fuzzier, feeling even smaller than before. He chews on the straw of his sippy before a six-fingered hand replaces it with a pacifier; he giggles when the fingers tickle his chin before ruffling his hair. Stan feels so warm and happy right now, happier than he's been in forever.

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     "Merry Christmas, Fidds," Ford said, clinking his glass of cooled-down hot chocolate-he can never wait for drinks to cool down-against Fiddleford's piping hot glass. He had never felt so peaceful this time of year, always surrounded by fast-moving and loud noises during the season, family he hadn't seen in a year pinching his cheeks and giving him wet kisses. And when he left for college, he stopped celebrating entirely-aside from that one Krampus incident with Fidds a few years back-having no desire to surround himself with noisy relatives, to sit beside an empty chair. But this year is different, he's with his friend and Lee, and it's just the three of them in their little shack, it's peaceful and nice. Being here and in the moment with the two closest people in his life, fills him up with such a fiery warmth that his heart aches and his breath gets caught in his chest; he can't stop smiling and laughing, even when all that's happening is Lee staring at the lights, that's how all-encompassing his happiness is. Ford couldn't ask for a better first Christmas.

     "Happy Hanukkah, Ford, Lee." It was the first night of Hanukkah, a holiday Fiddleford's never celebrated, growing up Southern Baptist and all, so the traditions are all a bit new to him. Thankfully, as Ford and Stan both told him, it's just the three of them so there's no nosy fourth cousins to tell him he's not lighting the candles at the right angle or saying the Shehecheyanu wrong. He sat up, going to the kitchen to bring out the little gift he's been making for Ford and Stan; Sufganiyot. He's been working on the recipe he found in Ford's things-their mother's recipe he reckons-for a week now, and Fiddleford believes this batch to be a success. He knows neither of the men have had it for over a decade, but with how they're establishing all these new traditions in the house, he thinks it'd be nice to have an old one.

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     Stan, who's been watching to doorway since Fidds left, perks up when he returns. He wiggles in his spot, hoping he's bringing another present or another tasty treat. He's been eating lots of them today, Latkes and gingerbread cookies and cinnamon pancakes, but he can't help but want more-Fidds' cooking was so good! Better than Ford's at least. He clapped lightly when Fidds came back in with a plate full of something he couldn't see from the floor. He gets to his feet, grabbing Poindexter and Shanklin 2, and walks towards Fidds, but Ford guides him to the couch instead, ignoring his pout and hand rubbing his stomach so desperately. Stan's starving, he deserves to have first dibs on the food!

     "Don't give me that look, Lee, you just had dinner an hour ago, you can wait a few more seconds before you have dessert." Ford takes his pacifier and taps the corners of his lips, getting a smile and giggle out of Stan. Ford laughs too, slinging a warm arm over his shoulder and pulling him in for a big and warm hug. Ford's hugs always make Stan melt, he feels so safe and protected, like nothing can come and get him and hurt him or scare him, not with his brother there to protect him from the outside world. It brings nice squiggly feelings to Stan's tummy, Ford's hugs, and sometimes those feelings make Stan wiggle in place from how nice they are. Like now, he relishes in Ford's and Fidds' breathy laughs as he wiggles under Ford's arm. The wiggles intensify when Fidds brings the plate closer to them, getting a good look at the delicious morsel he made them. Stan gasps with excitement. He made Suf-Sufgina-

     "Fiddleford, you made Sufganiyot?! Where'd you even find a recipe for that?" Yeah, that word Sixer said! Ma' made it all the time back-back in Jersey. How did Fidds know to make it for Hanukkah? Stan thinks he must be psychic or something, how else would he know and find a recipe?

     "Well, m'a bit ashamed t'say that I found it riflin' through your stuff. I assumed your mom must've sent it, so I'm sorry if it tastes piss poor in comparison." Fiddleford blushes, rubbing a foot on the ground and looking down, not meeting their eyes. Stan just giggles, Fidds said "piss".

     "Nonsense, F, I'm sure it's fine. If this is what you've spent all week in that kitchen working on, then they'll be great. Right, Lee?" Stan nods absentmindedly, almost drooling over the plate of Suf-goodies. They smelled so good, he needed to eat one right at this very moment. He looked pleadingly at Ford, pouting and whining, ignoring his and Fidds' conversation. He dives right in when he gets simultaneous nods, scrambling for the powdered-sugar-coated goodness. He takes one and shoves it in his mouth, doing happy wiggles at the taste. Fidds was so good at cooking, it tasted just like Mama's! Stan hasn't tasted this in ages, he forgot how good they were! He knows if Mama were here now she'd be fussing at him for being messy, wiping the powdered sugar off his cheeks with a wink. Sometimes Sixer does that, mostly Fidds, but it's not the same as when Mama did it. She'd probably get on to them about the wrapping paper still in the living room, making them clean it up before getting dessert. He misses her, now more than ever. Phone calls every month or so can only do so much. Stan feels his lips quivering, he hasn't cried over her in years, but something about this day, about tasting her recipe, he can't help it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     "Lee, are you alright? You're crying. Is-is something the matter?" Ford's looking back and forth between Stan and the dessert, glaring at the Sufganiyot as if it was personally responsible for making Stan cry. Both he and Fidds startle when Stan gives a hiccup, his crying-silent up to now-beginning to have noise, sniffling, hiccups, and sobs emanating from Stan-the dessert plate having been moved from his lap at some point-as he curls over his lap, fisted hands rubbing his eyes. "Lee, come on. What's the matter, you were fine just a moment ago," here Ford pauses, hands hovering over Stan as he thinks. This is the first holiday they've celebrated together in over 12 years, a decade of holidays Stan spent alone and probably cold. Taking a deep breath, still unused to emotional talk, Ford asked, "Was it a bad thought, Lee? Some nasty thought ringing around in there?" Ford softened his voice like Fiddleford does, bringing a hand up to rub Stan's back, patting it to help dislodge a cough or two. He's not good at talking about emotions, at not being dismissive of emotions, but he's getting better. And these are Stan's emotions, not his, he's more open when it comes to helping his brother than he is when confronting his own issues.

     "Ma'..." Stan whimpered between sobs, his small and croaking voice cracking Ford's heart. He's missing their mother...It's understandable, really, Stan may have talked to her a few dozen times over the years, but he hasn't seen her since he was kicked out, hasn't had the nerve to, not with their father still kicking around up there. And with Fiddleford making her dessert while Stan was in his headspace during this holiday, all these big emotions must have collided with each other, causing Stan's tears. Ford goes to quickly console Fiddleford, to tell him that it wasn't his fault, because if he still knows his friend, he knows that he'd blame himself. He was right, Fiddleford looks absolutely downtrodden, his lips and brow furled down into the deepest frown Ford has ever seen on the man-rivaling his expression when he's furious.

     "Oh, St-Stan I'm so sorry-"

     "Nope. This is not your fault, Fiddleford, and it's not yours either, Stanley. We are not playing the blame game, not on Hanukkah. Fidds, Stan misses our mother, he hasn't seen her since he was 17, there was always a possibility that he'd cry today given the timing and his headspace-I should have accounted for that." Ford quickly assures Fiddleford, needing him to know how much it is not his fault. He turns back to face Stan, who's still crying but at least is looking up at him, "Stanley, it is completely okay to cry over missing Ma', it's been years since you've seen her and you're in a more sensitive headspace right now. So please don't call your tears stupid," here Ford wipes a tear trailing down Stan's face away, "they never are. I'll tell you what, first thing tomorrow morning, I'll call Ma' to get her alone, maybe to a pay phone, and then I'll put you on, feeling small or not, and we'll explain to her that we've made up and are living together, sound good?" Ford may be rushing this whole "consoling" business, but they've been having such a good day all day, which is a rarity with the three of them, and he wants to keep the good mood going. Usually, this would be Fiddleford's job, but Ford figures he can, in the spirit of the season and his friend's own feelings of guilt, be the uplifting and guiding person today. He wipes more of Stan's tears, bopping his nose to earn a smile out of him-that action always does-and brushing his hair back.

     "Now," Fiddleford's weak voice came a few minutes later from his place kneeling in front of Stan, "Is there anything we-anything I can do to cheer you up, Sugar Plum?" Ford knew that was the worst question to ask as soon as he saw Stan's lips curl, tears drying on his face but slowly stopping with the comfort of his caregivers. Ford knew this smirk well-it was the type reminiscent of the old Grinch movie they watched as children. It promised mischief. That look soon transformed into a teary eyes and a begging look, his brother even clasping his hands together with a pout. Ford had to give it to Stan, small or not, he knew how to play Fidds for a sucker. He burst out laughing as soon as he hears Stan voice, his tone quiet and childish but adorable, his request.

     "The sweater." Fiddleford's face dropped dramatically, but he was no match to Stan's puppy eyes. With a distraught look towards Ford, he heaved himself up and trudged off to his bedroom.

     Ford's suddenly glad to be wearing a matching sweater with Stan because Fiddleford comes out a moment later dressed in the ugliest sweater Ford had ever seen. It had lights, some form of discombobulated configuration of what he believes to be Rudolph, and a "HU HU HU" sewn into it over a dozen times. It physically hurt him to see. It physically hurt Fidds to wear, if the pained and cringing grimace was anything to go by, the wool looked incredibly itchy.

     But Stan was happy, smiling and clapping, wiggling around in what Ford and Fidds have deemed his "happy dance", so Fiddleford can suck it up. In the spirit of the holiday season.

[softpawpup]

— regression shopping day

going out while regressed, dressed up your cutest clothes. your caregiver helped do your hair and you feel adorable. you go to the store, hand in hand with your caregiver. you walk around and take your time eyeing everything on all the shelves. you’re looking at bottles, toys, stuffies, blankies, pacis, snacks. all sorts of goodies for kiddos like you. theres something for any kind of regressor here, including you. your favorite flavors, your favorite colors, your favorite animals. all sorts of goodies that you can bring home. your caregiver helps you pick out the best options. a few new stuffies, plenty of snacks to last for a bit, a new bottle, two new pacis and of course some new toys! a whole haul! a new collection of fun things! the cashier bags up all your stuff and your caregiver helps you carry it back to the car. the moment you get home everything is washed and cleaned and prepared for playing. and of course you spend the rest of the day playing with all your new goodies.

[miloscozycorner]

𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬.

Carer!Natasha Romanoff x Little!Reader

• As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were feeling under the weather. As always, Natasha makes sure to take gentle care of her stubborn baby.

cw: age regression.

( 1007 Words )

It started with a runny nose. You assured Natasha it was just seasonal allergies, and you had to adjust to the winter. Hesitantly, she had taken your word for it- though of course, she always worried about you pushing yourself too far.

Then, you started to get a headache. And the sore throat and cough. You tried to brush it off, but when Natasha woke early in the morning to see you drenched in a cold sweat, shivering and coughing, she knew you weren’t okay.

She also noticed how small you seemed- you held your stuffed animal tight, grumbling and fussy. “Hey little bug, are you feeling icky?” Natasha murmured as she leaned over you as you shivered, nodding at her words.

With a cough you nodded, “It feels hot n’ then cold, mama.” You mumbled, frowning. Natasha tutted, placing her soft hands on your forehead. She hissed as she felt the head radiating from your skin.

“Baby, you’re burning up.” Natasha cooed, wincing when you hacked and coughed loudly with a wheeze. “Oh honey, you’re definitely sick. Here, I can send a text to your boss-”

God, you hated having to admit that you were getting sick. You pouted, groaning in frustration. “But I got work!” You whined, getting more distressed at the idea of not being able to go about your daily tasks.

Natasha sighed, shaking her head as she ran her fingers soothingly through your hair. “Sugar, you just can’t go to work. You need to stay home and get better, okay?”

You paused as you started to wheeze, sputtering into a coughing fit. Natasha sighed, moving to hold you tight in her arms and let your head rest on her shoulder. “Mama.. it hurts.” You whined, cut off by another sharp cough.

Fingers ran through your hair soothingly as Natasha pressed a kiss on your forehead. “I know it does, baby. It must hurt a lot.” She replied softly. She paused to glance out the window.

Sunlight was peaking through the white curtains, just barely risen enough to cast a shadow.

“Why don’t you just stay here, okay?” Natasha spoke, shifting so she was sitting up in bed. “Mama can make you a nice, warm bowl of soup and we’ll put on some of your favorite cartoons. How about that, little one?”

After a moment you nodded in agreement, whining when Natasha slipped out of your hold to stand. “Mama, don’ leave.” You mumbled with a pout, cradling your stuffie tighter to your chest.

Natasha sighed, “Sugar, mama isn’t going far. I’m just going to make you some soup with tea and grab some medicine.” She paused, before handing you the remote. “Choose something, okay?” She gestured towards the television.

Even though part of you wanted to object, to convince Natasha to stay in bed just a little longer, you nodded in agreement.

You mindlessly scrolled through the options of television shows before eventually deciding on a calm, animated movie. You relaxed into the bed, cradling several stuffies close to you while the movie began to play.

Soft footsteps pattered down the hallway until Natasha appeared, a cup of tea in one hand and medicine in the other. “Your soup’s sitting on the stove, baby. Still needs to warm up a bit.” She explained before scooting next to you in bed.

You grimaced at the medicine, not appreciating the grimy texture that went down your throat. But Natasha held you, telling you how brave you were while you drank it, which made it feel a little bit better.

The tea soothed your throat as Natasha hummed, glancing over at the television. “Studio Ghibli? That’s a good choice, precious.” She helped you sip at your tea for a while, frowning when you would wince or whine at your headache and sore throat.

“Mama, my throat hurts.” You whined, allowing Natasha to hold the warm mug of tea up to your lips. You took another small sip, finding a bit of relief in the soothing liquid.

Natasha moved off the bed again, cradling your cheeks and planting a kiss on your forehead. “Keep watching your movie, sweetheart. Mama is going to get your soup now, alright? I bet that tummy of yours is hungry!”

You giggled at her comment, shaking your head. “Mama you’re so silly.” You babbled, unable to help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips.

Natasha tickled your sides lightly before heading down the hallway, her footsteps eventually fading into the background. Once again you found yourself focused on the movie in front of you playing out, though sometimes the sickness would make your head feel floaty and almost dream like.

The scent of chicken noodle soup wafted around the hallway and into your room as Natasha returned. “Do you want to sit on mama’s lap while you eat this, honey? I don’t want you to make a mess.” Natasha said, moving over the cup of tea on the nightstand to place the bowl.

A moment passed and you nodded, adjusting yourself to sit on her lap. Natasha held you close, the bowl placed in her lap while she raised spoonfuls of the soup to your lips.

As you finished your soup and tea and the movie started to fade into background noise, you could feel your eyes start to grow heavy and your body weight felt like far too much to keep up all by yourself.

Natasha adjusted you, moving you so you were laying down and cradled in her arms, your head nuzzled against her collarbone. “Close your eyes, little love. Get some extra sleep for mama, okay?” She cooed, rocking you gently.

Though part of you felt like protesting, trying to fight through the day and stop feeling so icky, you gave in to the comfort and let your muscles eventually relax.

With Natasha’s soft touches and gentle praises in your ear, the shivers that ran down your spine eventually faded away, and sleep came to you with an ease you hadn’t experienced in days.

[ncity-agere]

(SFW) petnames that nct dream calls you in little space:

cg!NCT dream X little!reader (gender-neutral)

Mark: “Dude”. That’s it, not “little dude” or even “dudette”. Just “dude” as a neutral term. I don’t know, it works. That’s probably the first and only thing he could think of and it just… stuck. If you’re in a bad mood or had a really, really bad day and need a little extra care, he might pull out the “baby” or “sweetie” for you.

Renjun: I think he’d be one of those caregivers who calls their little an onomatopoeia (that’s a big word for “noise words”, little ones!) For example, he might call you “boo” or “pip”, something based on whatever little noises you like to make. He finds it endearing.

Jeno: Lots of animal names. Kitty, puppy, bunny, mouse, birdie… literally whatever you’d like. He probably pets your hair like a pet too, even if you don’t pet regress. He’s just got a lot of quiet love to give, so make sure to communicate which name you like to him!

Haechan: “Little shit”. He’s sick and tired of your antics and your pranks (that’s a lie, he loves you very, very much and could never get tired of you… no matter how many times you fling mushy peas into his hair and giggle about it).

Jaemin: Bun-bun, bunny, angel, or baby. Maybe princess or prince too, we’ve seen how endearing and soft he is with Czennies. I think he’d gravitate towards princess, unless you were uncomfortable with it. If so, he might switch off to one of the other names.

Chenle: To be honest, I’m not sure Chenle would understand age regression as a serious thing. Not that he can’t be serious, just that he might now grasp it the first time. So, the first few times he’s around you when you regress, he’s straight-up saying your first name. No cute nicknames or sweet voices, just “oh, hey y/n”. He’s like those people who talk to 2 year-olds about taxes with a straight face.

Jisung: He gravitates towards sweetie because he can’t think of any others that aren’t cringe to him. Jisung is picky and sweetie works just fine. What more do you want from him?

[cryslittlelibrey]

☁crayons🖍

outside, way beyond the little window you sit behind, glass so hazy and wind so raspy, lie rain pitter pattering, wrapping against panes between the tears it shed and you, curled up beneath fuzzy blankets to chase the chill nipping at your tiny little noes. its a rainy day, and adventure seems so far away, a thought leaving you lost in such blankets and pillows, fuzzy carpets and soft pajamas wrapping you with the silence decorating your room; but do not fret, dear little one, all is not lost, be boredom left with this new story i do spin.

on the carpet, one dancing with shimmering lamp light, are a packet of crayons, ones sprawled across each fiber and film. they may not look like much, snapped and torn, but at your fingertips, grasping your favorite colour, lays the world's away only a key beyond.

draw, scribble, doodle, line by line a new adventure comes to shape despite rains raging beyond walls keeping you safe, for it has no ground here, it has no control. as time ticks by your lost to this world falling beneath colours and traces, castles and trees and rivers all of your own making, because it was not the end the moment the sky decided to pry its dams open.

at your fingertips holds key opening door to so many worlds, worlds beyond rainy days and splattered puddles, worlds all of your own.⭐

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A/N- hey there little ones! i hope you liked this one. was just a little piece i thought up after a rough day so i hope maybe it could have lit your day a little like it did mine! as always story/writing requests and questions are open in my asks feel free to reach out!!

-cry ⭐

[butchreg]

regressor ! jinx who goes all out on NYE when the ball drops !!! she regresses out of excitement and wears the glasses , sets off a ton of poppers , and abuses her noisemakers especially in sevika’s ears and face !! she’s a ball of energy , making explosion sounds as she watches the fireworks. she gets hopped up on sugar , practically bouncing off the walls into the wee hours. sevika who is trying desperately to stay awake , nodding off and being jolted awake by jinx blowing her noisemaker in her face. she’s a bit grumpy around the holidays , not super celebratory. “alright baby blue. it’s way past your bed time.” jinx blows a raspberry in her direction. “haven’t been to sleep since last year !” she laughs hysterically at her own joke though sevika is not amused. sevika ends up conking out in an overstuffed armchair and jinx draws festive little things on her face.

ft my very bad lazy NYE jinx edit >,<

[kacchans-cradle]

here comes the airplane !! (caregiver mina + little bakugo)

comfort, fluff, agere drabble, mha agere

Katsuki slumps up against the chair, crossing his arms. “I don’ wanna…”

“Huh?” Mina gapes, holding the chopstick that held the sliced, fried pork. “It’s pork! You love pork, you ate it for dinner last night!”

“I don’t wan’ that!” The little one shakes his head, “Gimmie cookies!”

“Can you try phrasing that as a question?”

“Gimmie cookies or I’ll blow you up!!”

“So close! I was looking for a ‘please’.”

Katsuki turns up his nose in disgust. Mina and the others have tried dozens of times to teach him manners when he’s little, but it’s hopeless. He’s always back to his grumpy, cranky self the next day. Which is why she usually has to improvise.

“Okay, how about this…” Mina thinks for a moment. “If you take a couple bites of this tonkatsu, I’ll give you one cookie.”

“Uh-uh. Two cookies.”

“Alright, two cookies and you eat alllll of your food!” She smiles.

Katsuki sticks out a pouty lip. “Three cookies an’ I eat it…”

“Hm.” Mina ponders, “Eat all your food and you get three cookies, but I split the third one and we each get one half. Deal?”

He thinks about it for a moment, softening a bit. “...Okay. Deal.”

Mina’s smile spreads even wider, proud she figured out a solution. She blows the steam off the pork before bringing it to the little one’s mouth, waving the chopstick around like a wand. “Here comes the airplane, nyoooom!”

Katsuki opens his mouth tepidly, so he can be fed. As much as he pretends to hate the airplane thing, it’s actually kinda nice.

“Thas’ not what a plane sounds like…” He says with his mouth still full.

Mina giggles, about to feed him another bite. “Oh, whatever, I know you love it.”

[hollowtakami]

MY LITTLE DOVE

CONTENT: caregiver!keigo + regressed!gn!reader, pet names (dove, little feather, baby bird), just a fluffy drabble to keep my mind out of a bad place.

AUTHOR NOTE: please keep interactions/tags for this post strictly SFW; ddlg/ageplay/pro+comship are not welcome.

You could feel yourself slipping.

Huddled under a sea of blankets with an army of stuffies, chewing on the end of your sleeve, you fold into yourself.

The scent of your favourite stuffie under your nose would usually comfort you, but not right now. Above the surface of those blankets was a world. That alone was far too big and scary for you right now.

Your little heart pounded as you count the minutes on your fingers to ease your worries, startling at the faint sound of a door clicking open.

A small sigh and the shuffling of boots could be heard through the ajar door your bedroom, shoes kicked to the side of the rack and a jacket strung up on a hook as you heard a melodic voice call out to you.

“Baby bird, I’m back!” Keigo chirped, the baritone of his voice flooding your senses with warmth.

You do your best to ease the blankets off yourself and with clumsy movements, clutch your stuffie to your chest with your head down as you waddled over to the avian.

Keigo saw you emerge from your room like a lost spirit, floating over to him slowly. His face fell when he couldn’t see yours, his eyes soon clocked onto the stuffie and he soon softened.

“Hey there, dove,” his voice smoother than any sippie cup of warm milk before bed, lowered as to not startle you again. He extended a hand to you, gentle and inviting, whispering, “you feelin’ small?”

With a small nod you raise your head to look up, expecting to see even a small glimpse of annoyance in the suns of Keigo’s eyes; nothing.

He beamed when he saw your face, riddled with worry but willing to trust him. And trust him, you did.

You slowly shuffled into Keigo’s chest, babbling to yourself happily when you felt the tickle of his feathers cocoon around you. He patted your hair, kissing the crown of your head.

“C’mon, little feather,” Keigo smiled, “let’s get you cosy, yeah?”

When you were regressed, your age sometimes ranged. Keigo was no stranger to working with children due to his line of work, and so took to your regression quite well. Hidden behind a mask of tenderness was, at first, the fear of making you feel worse. Though, like a feather in the wind, the two of you found your flow.

“Okay, baby, sit on the bed for me while I find you some jammys, ‘kay?” Keigo softly directed, to which you did with a nod, your stuffie still with you.

Keigo sent a few feather dashing out of the room as he picked through the drawer where you kept your regression gear; pacifiers, sippy cups, your favourite pyjamas.

He turned with them in his hand, smiling to himself when he saw your demeanour light up at the sight. You clapped your hands together happily, letting Keigo get you out of your day clothes and into something comfier.

Keigo eventually got you into bed after calming you down when you got so giddy - he can’t lie to himself though, you were so adorable. He left the room for a moment, crossing his heart and promising you and your plush friend that he would be right back.

Sitting on the bed, tucked into a blanket with your stuffie huddled close to your chest, you popped your thumb into your mouth. You were too baby to think anything wrong of it, babbling to your stuffie about something as you subconsciously suckled and bit at your thumbnail.

Keigo soon came back into the room, a clean paci in his hands, his feathers carrying a tray lined with a sippy cup of warm milk and a plate of apple slices.

The avian clicked his tongue when he saw you mindlessly sucking your thumb, smiling as he helped the paci into your mouth and wiped your thumb.

“Save your teeth for these apple slices, baby,” Keigo smiled, his feathers resting back into his wings as the tray was set down onto the bed slowly, Keigo snuggled up to you, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You giggled as the scruff on his chin tickled your skin, your bubbly laughs making Keigo’s heart melt.

“C’mere, dove, let me help you with your snack, yeah?” Keigo softly suggested.

You nodded, too baby to want to feed yourself.

After a few slices, you finished off the sippy full of milk, eyes droopy. Setting the tray down on the bedside table, Keigo held you close in a blanket of his feathers, keeping you safe from any monsters while you and your stuffie got some well deserved rest.

[prince-of-the-sea-agere]

Caregiver goth older sister doing regressed reader's makeup drabble,,

"Alright, Puddin, the first step is the base. I'm just going to use this brush to apply it, ok?" The elder girl hums, delicately starting to spread the product across your face with a practiced hand. "It might tickle a little. If the texture feels too yucky, we can always wash it off, alright? No harm done."

It was too cute when you toddled into Sasha's bedroom with her makeup bag cradled in your arms, asking if she could do your makeup to match with hers, how could she say no to something so adorable?

"Right, base is on and set! Now you get to pick out what colors you want, sissy has black because it's traditional, but it doesn't hurt to have some fun with it. You can have any color your little heart desires, sugar!" Sasha holds out an eyeshadow pallete, patiently waiting for you to pick out the shades you like. After you point them out, she smiles softly and gets back to work "Oh my, those are a good choice! You'll be as pretty as a picture when we're all done."

When it's time for eyeliner shes extra careful, only doing what's comfortable for you before adding a little heart beauty mark on your cheek as a finishing touch. "Look at that, we're twinning now! How about we go look in the mirror so you can see? Maybe I can do your hair too!"

(Dividers are by @/strangergraphics!)

[pttwice]

little!momo regressing during the ttt shoot, going from laughing with the members poking fun at her for being ranked last to not liking it and just wanting to be at home held by jihyo.

“there’s no way momo’s not going to end up in ninth at the end of all this,” jeongyeon joked as they looked at the rankings. they’re almost done filming and a few of the members have already gone home. dahyun finished first despite not being present for filming, mina finished second, sana third, and nayeon fourth.

as the girls slowly go home one-by-one, momo regressed somewhere between the fifth and seventh member going home. jihyo ended up staying a little bit longer to see how things played out. she noticed momo’s words were a little slower coming out and she was getting mixed up a little more than usual during the games.

“momo might as well just head home after all the staff leave,” chaeyoung says over the walkie talkie. this earns a laugh from the staff as well as the leftover members.

momo obviously hears the joke, which has no malicious intent at all, and frowns. she looks down at the rubik’s cube she’s been working on the entire shoot and sets it down. crossing her arms over her chest, she sniffles and looks around to see if everyone ranked above her went home. she’s surprised when she sees jihyo looking right at her from a chair behind one of the cameras.

missing her usual bright, adoring smile when she watches the members, jihyo instead has a frown that almost matches momo’s. she can tell that since momo’s regressed, the members poking fun at her isn’t as much fun as it was when she was big. she can tell that it’s starting to make her feel bad now.

jihyo’s about to make a command decision and pull momo off the set for a few minutes to cheer her up, but the producer’s voice is heard throughout the studio. “okay, thank you. these are the final rankings for this ttt ranked.”

two out of the three members left cheer, leaving momo to sit and stay quiet in her last place spot. she nudges the rubik’s cube to the other side of the small table and rests her head on the table.

jihyo can see her shoulders shaking and knows instantly that momo’s started to cry. thankfully, the other members leave before they notice anything’s wrong. jihyo quickly walks back onto the set and kneels beside momo. she gently rubs her back and presses soft kisses to the back of her head.

“it’s okay, pumpkin. the game’s over.”

momo hiccups and shakes her head as she looks up at jihyo. “n-no. i-i’m last ‘nd ‘nd i don’t wanna be last. j-jeongie said that i-i’m really last.”

jihyo pulls momo close to her and slowly stands her up so they can make their way to the cars. “i promise you’re not really last, mo. it’s just a game.”

momo’s sniffles and the few tears that drip down her cheeks every few seconds don’t stop until they’re back at jihyo’s apartment. she helps momo change into a comfortable pair of pajamas and wraps her in a blanket before cuddling her on the couch.

“mo last…”

“you’re not last, pumpkin. you’re so awesome and you’re the best dancer in the whole world. momo’s number one.” jihyo smiles as she kisses the side of momo’s head, pulling her closer.

“number one?”

“number one, mo.”

momo’s not so sure, but she does like that jihyo thinks she’s number one at something. “can mo have story?” momo asks quietly, her voice barely audible as she burrows further into the blanket.

jihyo grabs one of the books she keeps in the coffee table and nods. “of course, pumpkin. we’ll read as many stories as you want because you’re number one.”

[the-universal-sun]

Sorry this took a bit, tumblr just straight up deleted half of what I had written and I had to have a bit of a cry before I got back into it. But! Thank you so much for the request, I hope you stuck around this long to see it through! I did have fun writing it, these two are so cute and stanley deserves all the care and love in the world! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

With all the Love in the World,

XX

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

"Okay now, Stanley, it's nap time. Go and pick out what book you want me to read to you since we finished the last one. Go on." Ford ushered his brother, who had been little for a better part of the day, towards their little book nook, it's just a small shelf Ford had put up with some books aimed towards young children, Stanley added some fairy lights to make it more fun. Ford did have to admit the lights were a nice touch, making it seem cozy and warm. They just finished reading Charlotte's Web last week, and Lee loved it for all that he cried during it. Ford was worried at first, thinking the book was too much, but once his brother was feeling bigger, he explained how crying did make him feel better, getting all those "icky feelings" out in a way that didn't involve hitting things. He still doesn't quite believe him, but he'll acquiesce for now.

Ford waits patiently, Lee wants to pick his books alone, the tone of the book deciding how he felt, how young he felt, in that moment. It's a good indicator, though he would love to help Lee pick put a book sometimes when he's feeling small, he can't help it, Lee always looks so cute when he's concentrating and trying to make a decision. If he was allowed, Ford would take a million photos of that face, alas, his Little brother is camera shy. A tugging at his sleeve pulls Ford's attention away from his thoughts, Lee holds a book out to Ford, looking down and his feet his face red. Ford commits that face to memory to draw later, he looks so cute. He wants to pinch his cheeks and kiss them. Moses, he's turning into Ma'. Ignoring those thoughts, Ford grabs the book, another small chapter book, and reads the title.

"Oh, Lee. Are you feeling smaller right now, hmm?" Ford asks with a smile, holding the first Winnie the Pooh book in his hands. It's an old one, Stanley picked it out from a thrift store in town, the worn cover reminding him of that nice old woman, the one who made him Poindexter and his quilt. Ford wonders if she may possibly be alive somewhere.

His Lee shyly nods, rocking slightly on his feet and tangling his fingers at the ends of his hair-the mullet had been cut and evened out-the actions tugging at Ford's heart strings. His brother was so cute. He has to draw this when Stanley’s napping. "Well that's okay, Lee. You know I don't mind if you feel smaller today. Do you want to nap on the bed or do you want to make a bed in the living room?" Ford would prefer Stanley wanting to nap in bed, but if his twin really wants to, he'll drag every blanket in the house down stairs and make him a nest.

"Mmm..." Stanley rocks, finger going up to tap at his lips, Ford lets it as long as his brother doesn't start biting at it. After a while, this is a very big decision for his brother to make, Stan points upstairs in the direction of their rooms, wanting to nap in his bed. Ford takes his hand, Stan can be unsteady when he's feeling small, and walks up stairs with him. He makes sure to go slowly, reminding his Lee to hold on to the stair rails so he doesn't fall. "...can do it..." is the only response Stanley gives, pouting all the while as he holds the railing with one hand and Ford's in the other. They slowly make their way to Stanley’s room, turning the lights on to reveal his bed, outfitted with his favorite teddy bear quilt and his beloved Poindexter. Ford still can't get over how...complicated he feels knowing his brother named his stuffed animal after him and how deeply he's cherished it for a decade now.

"Come on, Lee, up up in bed, I'll tuck you in." Ford pulls back the comforter and quilt, helping Stan up and settled in bed, one time Stanley slipped off the bed when he was feeling small and Ford's panic about his tears caused even more crying-it was a rough day. “Let’s get you all nice and tightly tucked in, Lee. Right, bud? As snug as a bug.” It took Ford a while to get used to this childish talk, he’s still embarrassed by it sometimes, but Stanley loves it. It’s starting to come more naturally to him as he keeps talking in this manner.

“...’n a rug?” Lee asks, chewing on his finger. Which Ford swiftly replaces with a rabbit pacifier he has laying on the bedside table; not Lee’s favorite but Ford thinks it’s rather cute. His brother’s hands are already torn up, and he’d hate for them to get worse before he finishes perfecting and experimenting with his healing salve. It’s main purpose is to reduce inflammation and scarification on the first two layers of the skin initially, with more permanent healing taking place after being used consecutively for several days-

“As snug as a bug in a rug, Lee.” Ford cuts himself off. This is no time to be thinking about his projects, not with his Little brother in front of him. Stan is what, who, his focus needs to be on. He leans down and presses a kiss onto his brother’s forehead as he starts to meticulously tuck in the covers.

“...’n Poindexter?”His brother asks around the pacifier. Stan holds his ragged teddy bear up, as if presenting the toy for inspection. But Ford knows what his brother is really asking for. He presses a loud and overdone kiss on the plush’s head, biting back a smile at the giggling bursting forth from his brother. He needs to keep his brother calm or else he’ll never nap. He’s just too cute though. 

“Yes, of course I’ll tuck your friend in with you, Lee. Nice and snug as a bug.” He tucks the toy in his brother’s arms, pulling the beloved quilt up, covering the two of them and tightly tucking the corners in. Ford smoothes back his brothers hair, it's grown out a bit from that rather horrendous mullet he had all those months ago.

“In a rug!” Lee giggled, kicking his feet beneath the blankets. Ford bit back a coo, his brother hearing that would be way too embarrassing for him. He sat next to his brother, bundled and tucked in tightly with his quilt, and opened the story book Lee picked out.

“Are you ready for your story? Or do you need to get more situated first, Lee?” Ford asked, looking over to his brother. His brother who was clutching his bear and staring up at him. Staring as if he had hung the moon. Moses, Ford cleared his throat, his heart is going to give out on him one of these days from how sweet his brother looks. “Story time it is, then.” Ford turned to the first page-

“Voices.” Ah, of course.

“Yes, Lee, I’ll do the voices, too.” He turns back to the first page of the book, face red at the thought of even attempting to do Winnie the Pooh’s voice. Stan really has him wrapped around his finger.

Ford wouldn’t have it any other way.

[softpawpup]

— my perfect night of regression !!

the lights are dim and its quiet outside. the house is cool and the fan is blowing. the blankets are warm and plentiful, bunched up and layered one over the other. there’s popcorn, pizza, chocolate, soda and cocoa. howls moving castle on the tv, playing at an audible but soft volume. caregiver at the side, whispering praises and words of love. as sleep comes, the tv fades and the lights grow dimmer. the blankets are pulled up and good night kisses are exchanged. stuffies are gathered and a special one is clutched close to the heart. the bed is soft and the pillows make walls of comfort. theres a hand in hair, stroking and rubbing gently. the fan spins, the caregiver hums, a soft light glows somewhere in the corner. the night is perfect.

[miloscozycorner]

𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬.

Caregiver!Wanda Maximoff x Regressor!Reader

• After a meltdown makes you go nonverbal, Wanda helps you communicate your big feelings together.

cw: age regression

( 1109 Words )

The fuzzy carpet felt cool on your bare legs, your oversized shirt scrunching up and resting on your upper thighs. The room had grown chilly from Wanda opening the porch door just a crack, the wind sneaking its way into the living room.

Your tears had finally dried, your chin now resting on your crossed arms. It felt silly, the meltdowns. It just got all too much. The lights, the noises. Trying to make your brain be a bigger kiddo, make the words come out right.

But Wanda understood it all, of course. She always did. When the words had started to jumble on your tongue, and when with a cry of frustration you had given up, she was quick to sit. Quick to let you squeeze her hand until it grew pale.

“Hey bubby. I got you your cards.”

Wanda’s voice drew you out of your thoughts, and you craned your neck to see her patter towards you, taking a crossed legged seat on the carpet a few steps away from you.

“Mama even added some stickers,” she added, her lips curling upwards when you let out a soft giggle. Your eyes followed the stickers on the laminated cards, a variety of animals stuck on them.

You took a moment to shuffle through the cards, before picking one to show. The word “like” was printed on it in bold letters, with a galaxy themed background. Wanda had let you help make all the cards months ago.

With a tap, you showed Wanda the card, and she tilted her head towards the sticker arrangement. “You like the stickers, munchkin?”

An enthusiastic nod.

Wanda paused, spreading the cards before glancing at you. Her playful expression died down, her face turning a bit more serious. But the softness in her eyes and the gentle tilt of her lips remained.

“Do you want to talk to mama about those big feelings you had?” Wanda suggested, glancing up at you. You took a breath in, your brows furrowing while you searched for a card.

“Yes”.

Wanda nodded, shuffling in place. “Okay little one, good job using your cards!” she praised, not missing the ways your eyes lit up from it. “Now, can you tell me what was making those big feelings overflow?” she questioned, tilting her head.

You hesitated, chewing your bottom lip before answering. “Loud”. “Light”. “Hungry”.

“And all that together made you feel not so good, bunny?” You hummed in agreement, slightly frowning. Wanda was quick to notice, adding on reassurance. “And you know that’s okay, honey. I know it can get pretty overwhelming. But mama got you a snack, and a worksheet. How would you feel about trying that?”

There was a brief pause before you gave a nod of agreement, and observed Wanda stand up, disappearing for a moment down the hallway before coming back, a slip of paper and a box of crayons in hand and a bag of Goldfish in the other.

She sat down cross-legged once more, this time beside you instead of across from you. Your shoulders relaxed, a flutter in your stomach forming when she sat.

“Do you want to sit in mama’s lap? Or, we can sit beside each other and I can help you color.” Wanda offered, waiting for you.

For a moment it seemed she almost forgot until she added on, quick to repair her mistake. “Oh goodness! I’m sorry honey. Mama almost forgot you’re not up for words today. I know big words are difficult for tiny babies! How about you hold up one finger for sitting in my lap, and two for coloring together? Is that okay, little bird?”

You gave a small smile at her remembrance, before holding up one finger. Wanda’s lips curled upwards, grinning happily at you before scooping you under your arms and adjusting you to sit on her thigh. The scent of strawberry perfume calmed your senses further, any lingering weight on your chest fading away.

She stretched her arms over to the coffee table next to you, grabbing a hard-cover book and placing the sheet on top of it, before adjusting it so it was on top of your lap.

“Now, you see all these colors? We can use these colors to fill up the cup to show how you were feeling earlier. So, blue is for sad. Green is for scared. Red is for mad. Yellow is for embarrassed. Can you do that for me, honey?”

You gave a nod, picking out the green crayon first and allowing Wanda to sneak a couple Goldfish into your mouth to chew. Your hand hesitated, hovering over the paper before filling half the cup with green.

After a moment, you added some yellow. Your grip on the crayon grew more sturdy, less shaky.

Wanda watched carefully, helping you take more bites of your snack. Then a bit of blue, finishing the cup.

The crinkling of the Goldfish bag and the scents of the newly bought crayons made a soft smile tug at your lips just ever so slightly, the fear, the anxiety, everything, slipping out of your grasp.

You looked up at Wanda for approval, giggling when she gave you a wide grin.

Wanda gave a hum of approval, setting the empty bag of Goldfish down next to her as you showed the piece to her. “Wow, bubby! You did such a good job drawing out all of those big feelings for mama,” she praised, sticking a light kiss on your forehead.

She adjusted you momentarily, her strong arms lifting you gently under your armpits, settling you on her hip. The paper was placed neatly on the coffee table by the pack of crayons, and your deck of communication cards were placed in your hand.

“Do you want to go cuddle upstairs with mama?” Wanda offered, stopping by the kitchen to throw away your bag and glancing down at you.

You flipped through your cards. “Yes.” More shuffling. “Please.”

“Oh my, such a good job using your cards, bubba!” Wanda praised, beaming down at you and running slender fingers through your hair. “Come on, let mama give you lots of snuggles tonight.”

You felt your eyes grow a bit heavier, the feeling of soft hands supporting your weight and the sound of Wanda’s gentle footsteps with the creaking wooden stairs lulling you.

“It’s okay to sleep pumpkin, mama will be here when you’re up.” You heard Wanda mumble into your ear, the comforting warmth of her breaths fanning onto your cheek.

So, you allowed yourself to slip into a comforting sleep, free from the day’s stress, held in the love Wanda always gave so freely.

[ncity-agere]

(sfw) how you spend easter sunday with stray kids:

sorry, this is really bad! i wanted to make something kinda cute for today… happy easter for those who celebrate! i grew up religious, so this is based on kiddie activities i did when i was younger!!

Bang Chan: Chan wakes up early and tells you to put on your best, most prettiest outfit because today’s a special day. He’ll help you change if you need help and will even tie your bows and button your buttons (but you’ve got to remember your manners and say “thank you”, okay?). He’s going to try his hardest not to work too hard today and if he’s got to go into the studio for the day, he’s bringing you with him.

And when you both return, he’ll try his hand at cooking Easter dinner too! Though, if he messes up then… takeout, anyone?

☆ If you’re religious at all, he’ll probably come up with a clever little craft activity for you both to do (like those little resurrection bread-thingies where the Peeps marshmallow disappears and represents Jesus? yeah, that).

Lee Know: Minho’s been placing plastic eggs all over the house after you went to bed last night, but didn’t tell you. So, when you find one of the hidden eggs and come running to find him, he can’t hide his smile.

“Whatcha got there, baby?” He asks, watching you waddle up to him with a yellow egg in your hands.

“Egg!” You cheer, giggling a little bit. “Egg! Foun’ egg!” Minho nods and holds your hands, pressing your thumbs against the plastic line on the egg.

He smiles. “Very good! There’s something in there, go ahead and open it.” His voice is soft and as you gasp and open the egg to find a piece of chocolate inside. You’re absolutely beaming and he wishes he could take a photo of this moment to have and hold forever.

Changbin: “Easter Bunny!” You giggle, tugging on Changbin’s pajama shirt as he walks around and gets ready for the day. He’s just woken up and completely forgot it was Easter, so imagine his surprise when you start asking him where he hid the eggs.

“I don’t have any eggs, y/n.” He tries to explain, but you don’t wanna hear it. If he’s not the Easter Bunny, then why’s he so big and bunny-like? Checkmate.

The both of you spend the day having a picnic in the park, basking in the sunlight, running around, and playing fun games before going back home (and if Binnie hides a few plastic eggs around the house without you noticing, shhh…)

Hyunjin:

☆ He doesn’t care if you’re religious or not, he’s asking you to come to church even if he doesn’t go regularly because it’s a special occasion.

☆ If you’re not religious, he’s bribing you to attend with the promise of ice cream later.

After changing out of your stuffy, formal clothes though, I think Hyunjin would sit down and paint eggs (yes, real breakable eggs) with you outside. He’d take his painting skills really seriously and try his hardest not to get irritated when yours is more scribbly than neat.

And when you’re both done with your eggs, you sit outside do a while together and let them dry. You spend the morning babbling and sitting in the warm grass with him, having a peaceful and blessed Sunday.

Han: Found bunny ears lying around somewhere and somehow convinced you that he is the Easter Bunny and not your caregiver. And goodness gracious, you believe it wholeheartedly. Unfortunately for Jisung, that means piggyback rides, coloring books, and candy and treats all day. Not like he minds, though >:)

(He also probably makes a 4/20 joke this year, but realizes you’re too little to get it and tells you not to worry about it when you ask)

Felix:

☆ If you’re religious, he’s taking you to Sunday service.

Either way, he’s going to have fun when church is over. Dyeing eggs (and getting brightly colored dye all over your fancy clothes… oops!), baking sweets, and reading books together makes this Sunday one of the best days in a while. And who better to spend it with than you’re sweet-as-sugar caregiver?

Seungmin: Just takes it as a lazy day to eat chocolate and stay in. I don’t think he’d really care that it’s Easter, he’s just kind of chilling like it’s any other Sunday.

He might buy you a brand new stuffie as a gift! Maybe like, a bunny rabbit or a ducky or something Easter themed, you know?

I.N: “Hi, sweet baby! Good morning! Do you know what today is?” He asks gently, brushing your hair as your eyes flutter open from a good night of sleep.

You babble and hold onto Jeongin’s face. “Ba!”

He nods. “It’s Easter! Come on, Papa’s gonna doll you up and get you all pretty! Yes, I am!” He cooes, smiling at you and scrunching up his eyes and nose a little.

Even though you’re feeling really, really little today, he’s having fun dressing you up in your Sunday best. It’s like a little fashion show of pastels and ruffles and soft fabrics -what’s there not to love?

☆ If you are religious, Jeongin will remind you every so often what Easter’s really about (but lets you have your fun with eggs and candy as well). You’re too little right now to really understand what’s he’s talking about but you know that it’s good in your heart, so you giggle and nod anyways.

[b4bywr1t3s]

Trail mix

Spencer Reid x gn!reader drabble

tags ; fluff , gn terms ONLY , use of y/n (I'm unoriginal...)

(this is so short...shush)

The couple sat on the couch, Y/N holding a small bag of trail mix in their lap, idly eating the mixture of nuts and fruits, making sure to pick out the raisins.

it took a matter of seconds for Spencer to notice, gently taking the bag from Y/N and heading for the kitchen, separating the raisins from the rest of the bags contents.

by the time he returned, the raisins had been completely removed, all tossed into a small bowl, which he carried into the living room, handing the bag back to his lover.

"you didn't have to do that..." they mumble, looking over at the bowl Spencer carried.

"you don't like them, there's no point wasting them." Spencer shrugged in response, plopping onto the couch beside Y/N, continuing to watch whatever late night TV show was playing.

the pair ate in quiet, Y/N leaning against Spencer's side as they watch the show, enjoying the comfortable silence that filled the room.

"I love you, y'know that?" spencer whispers, his soft voice drawing Y/N's attention to him.

"I know..." they murmur, looking up at him through their lashes, their eyes filled with tiredness. "I love you too, Spence."

Spencer moves his hand to theor cheek, his thumb caressing across his lovers cheekbone and into their hairline, helping them drift into a peaceful slumber, the late night TV now just background noise fir the couples rest.

very much inspired by this post | dividers by @kodaswrld

[miraculous-demigod]

Regressed!Elphaba and Caregiver!Galinda Drabble time, come get y’all juice

-

Galinda could tell Elphaba was going to wake up regressed.

The first tip was when the younger girl awoke before her I’m up with the sun, I don’t want to sleep the day away roommate, the softest snores she heard let her know the green girl was still fast asleep after a night of dreams plagued with pain and taunts and tears.

The second sign was her arms; Elphie was a very restless sleeper mentally and physically, contorting her body every which way throughout the night and would sometimes even wake up on the opposite side of the bed, Oz knows how that even happened.

But she currently looked so content, one hand tightly clutched some of the blonde’s bunched up nightgown fabric as if she was afraid to let go— and that thought hurt Galinda’s heart terribly— with the thumb on her other hand firmly placed in her mouth, a rare sight as the witch usually prefers teethers to pacifiers.

Third and finally, the incredibly super top secret stuffed animal Elphaba absolutely loves but pretends to not was clearly visible as the girl snuggled with it, the shiny black eyes on the plush bear (named Bear-Bear, the raven haired girl once admitted as a tribute to Nanny Dulcibear, a bit embarrassed) were almost twinkling with the excitement of not staying hidden today.

A small day! Galinda could hardly hold in her excitement about wearing the caregiver badge this time; they could have breakfast in bed, and have a tea party, and story time, and—

Little giggles pulled her out of her thoughts, a sleepy smile decorating Elphie’s pretty face as she tiredly blinked and reached out to gently pull one of Galinda’s curls to her mouth, speaking in soft baby babble.

“An extra small day!” Galinda all but whisper-cheered, pressing a flurry of butterfly kisses to the green girl's face as she squirmed and laughed and crinkled her nose after each peck, as if she was surprised they tickled.

Almost like all this physical affection was all new to her.

Unfortunately, it probably was.

“Bear-Bear,” Elphaba shyly requested once Galinda moved to cooing over how cute she was in this headspace and how much fun they were going to have today, moving the beloved bear so it just barely grazed the blonde’s hand, like she wasn’t sure how the sorceress would react.

It didn’t take a genius to guess why the regressed girl hesitated, but if that didn’t make Galinda absolutely loathe the rest of the Thropp family

“Of course Bear-Bear can have a turn!” She said warmly, moving forward a bit to now attack the stuffed animal with a flurry of kisses, “You never have to be afraid to ask for love!”

For obvious reasons, that statement was not for the plush toy, and neither was the list of reasons how Bear-Bear was a good person bear and why she deserved every and all types of love there is, including believing the weekly affirmations Galinda leaves around their room.

Elphaba hummed happily and closed her eyes, scooting a bit to press her forehead against the blonde’s in an act to tell her thank you. For this, for later, for everything, really.

Galinda repeated the gesture back, letting their unspoken words of care and compassion blanket them until the bluebirds and little coo birds sang too loudly to ignore, forcing them to get up and start the day.

“Who wants Cheerios and honey milk for breakfast? I heard that’s someone’s favorite snack when they’re small!”

“Me!”

Galinda laughed when Elphaba cheered, already fishing out bowls and spoons for them from a box next to her closet, and another set when she saw the bear propped upright as best it could be next to Elphie, slumping sideways just a tad.

Neither of them know that soon a letter will arrive from the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz, all the way from The Emerald City to request Elphaba’s presence. And that will start a whole conversation about Animal Rights, and jealousy, and hard conversations, and many more Tell me a secret, okay I’ll go first nights. And saying goodbye.

Neither of them know that in just a few short weeks, Bear-Bear will sit alone in the dark on an unmade bed, hoping to see her owner again soon. And the stuffed animal is not the only one.

But for right now, they’ve stopped the world just to start this feeling of domestic bliss, blocking out everything else to enjoy their morning of cereal and laughter and love.

And for them, that’s more than enough.

(So, I usually headcanon Elphie a bit of an older Little, like around 6-8yrs old, but everyone need a baby day once in a while and I’m projecting lol so today she’s around 2yrs old if even, probably a little younger)

(AND IF YOU’RE THE VERY SWEET ANON WHO REQUESTED A SMALL FIYERO AND GALINDA PLAYDATE FIC PLEASE KNOW IVE THOUGHT ABOUT YOUR ASK EVERY DAY SINCE LIFE HAS JUST KICKING MY ASS RN IM SORRY)