#Elvis agere

[presleyheart]

https://open.spotify.com/track/19IEpm6mKchqoetomtig3e?si=1d405a3e2f294f95 -- song correlation "Daddy's here.." !! Pairing 70s!Austin!Elvis and Gender Neutral!Reader !! SUMMARY ---- The reader joins Elvis during one of his rehearsals at the International Hotel. The loud noise hurts the reader's ears, and they involuntarily go nonverbal. Elvis, having no clue they were little, stops the rehearsal early once he realizes reader has gone backstage to avoid the noise. Realizing almost too late, he has to rush to comfort the now regressed reader. TW ---- Light swearing, mentions of anxiety, panic attack??

Genre: Agere Fluff ☁

You had been having that fuzzy feeling in your mind the entirety of the day. Each minute felt suffocating to you. You needed to be big for Elvis. You were worried being little would ruin everything about his plans.

You had been doing so much travelling.

Too much travelling.

Everything was whirring around your head at such a fast pace. This is how it's felt since the 68 comeback. It's been 2 years since and Elvis was still at lightning pace.

He's been extra busy recently and you have been miserable without having a chance to be little. He hasn't really picked up on it due to him being stressed, and you'd hate to stress him out more. ----

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---- You walked onto the stage as you watched Elvis holding his microphone. The light was bouncing off of his tan skin beautifully. He looked perfect from head to toe.

You watched in awe, he smiled as soon as he saw you.

"There's my baby.. c'mere" He said, the smile and gleam in his eyes from seeing you never leaving.

"You only saw me minutes ago?" You said, giggling towards his affection. Maybe this'll distract your inner true motives? Or so you thought.

He pulled you into his strong arms. He hugged you close, as he pressed a kiss against your head "I would be with you all the time if I could." He muttered.

You felt so small with him in this moment, but you couldn't slip. You reluctantly pulled away from his warm hold. Even though you desired to be comforted in the time being, you couldn't risk slipping.

"I know, go have fun, okay?" You said, flashing a small forced smile and squeezing his hand.

"Anything for you.." He responded once more. He went on his merry way with his friends.

If only he knew what was brewing inside of your head.

----

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----

You sat down on stage off to the side, not minding everything as you rested your head against the cool wall.

"I uh, I wanna try something new... a'ight Glen?" Elvis muttered into the mic. He wandered around til' he met with his friend on the piano, in which he gracefully moved his hand around to imitate the rhythm he wanted. "You're gonna take the intro here"

As soon as Elvis began moving his hand and made a bunch of 'bum' and 'duh' sounds, the piano riff started. He immediately got into it.

You found yourself biting your bottom lip softly. Getting antsy as the song started. Already, the piano was loud.

Each instrument one after the other, which almost caused a sensory overload from the sound. You felt a pang in your heart. This was too much.

First the piano, then the drums, then the bass-

"Bring that bass up, Jerry... keep playin'." Elvis stated at one of his many band members. This knocked you away from trying to space out and avoid the noise. You were squirming in your spot. The room suddenly felt tighter.

Everyone was laughing and playing, everyone was enjoying this but you. Elvis seemed so happy. You couldn't ruin that.

All the people were having so much fun. Whooping, clapping, laughing. Elvis made his way around the room, now at the backup singers.

He finally began singing.

"That's all right," "That's all right!" "That's all right," "That's all right!"

It all just got louder and louder. You felt your heart rate speed up and tears were coming to your eyes. You held your head a moment.

"Boys?" "That's all right!" "With me?" "Anyway you do!"

Luckily it was during the instrumental. You crawled behind the curtains and got up. You were rushing backstage.

Your heart was pounding, your breath was fast, you found your way into a dressing room and sat down. Praying for your anxiety to fade away.

Normally you loved Elvis in concert. Right now, you couldn't bear to see him. You were too stressed out. Everything felt so overwhelming and your emotions were out of play.

'Elvis doesn't need this right now.' You convinced yourself. You could still hear the music, you were rocking in place. Every word anyone said felt like a dagger to your mind.

"Flames man.. flames are comin' offa that guitar..."

Right as Elvis was going into the brass section, he turned to give you a smile, but you weren't there. He looked nervous, immediately.

"Now boys, hang on." Elvis said. You heard the music stop. You sighed in relief. You couldn't speak. He called out your name, over and over.

Whoops of "Y/N".. Elvis was lightning speed as he made his way backstage. "Little one?" He called out, in distress. You held your knees to your chest as you heard his footsteps approaching the door to the dressing room you were in.

Elvis came in, practically breaking the door down.

"Aw, shit, babe- what's..." His heart drops. He immediately goes into daddy mode.

"Oh my.. my poor little one." He could see the tears and hyperventilating from you. Elvis went around the couch in seconds and held you in a tight embrace. All you could do was cuddle into him. "I am so sorry, little.. Daddy's here now."

The only word you can mutter out is..

"Scared.."

If Elvis' heart didn't break any moments before, it surely did now. He felt so guilty for not noticing.

"My sunshine shouldn't have to feel scared.. this ain't ever gonna happen again.. Daddy promises." He held you closely and sighed.

"You're too little to have to feel such big worries.. oh my baby.." His voice broke. He felt his heart shatter even worse as you clung to him and sobbed. He cradled you in the back of the head. He sighed.

Eventually your breathing calmed down and you practically fell asleep hugging Elvis. You were finally getting Daddy's attention.

----

-------------

----

"What the hell is takin' so long, E-?" Elvis' friend spat out, in the doorway 15 minutes later after this.

"Shh. I suggest you shut your pie-hole. I got company. Now get." Elvis responded, with a look that could kill. He felt bad for not being there, he was only now happy you were content. He would strangle his friend if they ruined it.

Elvis turned his gaze back to you and planted kisses on your head.

You were his baby. All he truly needed.

Daddy's here now... and that's all that matters.

[angelicdolliegirlblog]

i’m your little baby doll youre my mr rock and roll king ˚⋆𐙚｡ 𖦹.ᡣ𐭩˚

[elvisbdoll]

—“Tea party”—

Summery: It was a quiet afternoon in 1969, the kind of day where the world seemed to slow down just enough to breathe. Elvis, fresh off his comeback and riding high on success, found himself at home in Graceland, far from the flashing lights and roaring crowds. But today wasn’t about music or fame—it was about her. She’d been in her little space all morning, her soft voice and shy smiles tugging at his heart. When she asked him to join her for a tea party, complete with plushies and a handmade crown, Elvis couldn’t say no. After all, even a king deserves a day off to play.

Tw: age regression, nothing more really, FLUFF PURE FLUFF.

Words: 800

Ship: Elvis x black!oc, caregiver!elvis x little!reader

A/N: had been thinking about this a while now, please make sure to comment and tell me if you see any mistake or any warning that should be added. Thank you and enjoy your lecture!

The sun poured in golden through the windows of Graceland, casting a warm glow over the den where Elvis Presley lounged. It was 1969, and he was finally back in the spotlight, rejuvenated by his comeback special and the thrill of recording in Memphis. But today? Today wasn’t about the stage. It was about her.

“E-Elvis?” Your soft voice carried from the other room, tentative but hopeful.

He turned, his blue eyes lighting up at the sound of you. “What’s on your mind, darlin’?”

You peeked around the doorway, clutching your favorite stuffed bunny. The sight of you made his heart melt. You’d been in your little space all day, and he could see it in the way you shuffled, one sock falling down, hair slightly tousled. It was one of those moments where the world was too big, and you needed to retreat to a place that felt safe. With him, you always could.

“I wanna have a tea party,” you murmured, eyes darting away shyly.

Elvis grinned, setting aside the newspaper he’d been half-reading. “A tea party, huh? Well, I reckon I’ve got time for somethin’ like that. Where we settin’ up?”

Your face brightened instantly, and you grabbed his hand, leading him to the living room where a little blanket had been spread out. A collection of plushies—bears, bunnies, and even a lion—were carefully arranged in a semi-circle. At the center sat a tiny tea set, the kind with painted flowers that always made you smile.

“You’re the king,” you announced with a serious expression, handing him a paper crown you’d made earlier.

He chuckled, kneeling down on the blanket despite his usual sharp suit. “Well, darlin’, I’ve been called the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll, but this here’s a new kinda royal honor.” He placed the crown on his head, tilting it slightly. “How do I look?”

“Perfect,” you giggled, sitting down beside him and picking up your stuffed bunny. “And I’m the princess. This is Bunny, and that’s Sir Teddy.” You pointed at the bear, then the lion. “Oh, and that’s Sir Roar-a-Lot.”

Elvis nodded solemnly, playing along. “Pleasure to meet y’all. Now, what’s a king gotta do to get a cup of tea ‘round here?”

You giggled again, carefully pouring pretend tea into a tiny cup and handing it to him. He took it with all the seriousness in the world, pinky finger out, and made an exaggerated slurping sound.

“Mm, now that’s the finest tea I’ve ever had,” he said, his Southern drawl making the words even sweeter. “You make this yourself, Princess?.

You nodded proudly. “With Bunny’s help.”

“Well, Bunny’s got a talent for tea, I’ll tell ya that.” He leaned forward, gently booping the bunny’s nose, which made you laugh so hard you almost spilled your next pour.

The two of you played for what felt like hours. Elvis complimented Sir Teddy’s bravery and asked Sir Roar-a-Lot about his adventures in the jungle. You pretended to bake cookies, offering one to Elvis, who mimed taking a bite and declared it “better than Mama’s cookin’,” which earned him a mock glare.

Finally, you stood up, hands on your hips. “Now, we have to dance!”

“Dance?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Well, now you’re speakin’ my language.”

You reached out your hands, and he took them, pulling you close. He twirled you gently around the blanket, humming a soft tune under his breath—something sweet and slow, like Can’t Help Falling in Love. You giggled as he spun you dramatically, your plushies cheering you on from their spots.

When the song ended, you both collapsed onto the blanket, laughing and out of breath. Elvis leaned on one elbow, looking down at you with the kind of affection that made you feel like the most important person in the world.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling. “You’re the best king ever.”

“And you’re the sweetest princess I ever met,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the room in shades of pink and orange, you rested your head on his shoulder, clutching Bunny tightly. Elvis wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.

In that little space, surrounded by plushies and the remnants of a tea party, the world felt small and safe. And with Elvis by your side, you knew you’d always have a home in his heart.

[mooniebatz]

New fixationnn and unconventional CG!!!!!

[kaydens-agere]

Characters I Headcanon as Age Regressors!

This is a forever ongoing list! It will change depending on the franchises and fandoms I interact with and my opinions on certain characters :)

Keep in mind I haven't interacted with some of these characters/franchises in a while so I can't come up with exact headcanons for some of them, the ones that are underlined have links to their headcanons/moodboards and the emojis next to them are oneshots/drabbles I've done for them ^^ Also if you'd like to request please check my fandom list, thank you!!

Characters are below the cut!!

Lab Rats Chase Davenport -🧪- Marcus Davenport

Mighty Med Oliver Horace Diaz

Henry Danger Henry Hart/Kid Danger Ray Manchester/Captain Man

Spider-Man Peter Parker/Spider-Man -🕷️- Miles Morales/Spider-Man Gwen Stacy/Spider-Woman Pavitr Prabhakar/Spider-Man Hobie Brown/Spider-Man

Marvel Wade Wilson/Deadpool Logan Howlett/Wolverine Matt Murdock/Daredevil Charles Xavier/Professor X Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto Jean Grey/The Dark Phoenix James "Bucky" Barnes/The Winter Soldier Steve Rogers/Captain America

The Outsiders Ponyboy Curtis Sodapop Curtis Darrell "Darry" Curtis Johnny Cade Dallas "Dally" Winston Keith "Two-Bit" Matthews Steve Randle (yeah basically all the gang leave me alone </3)

Detroit: Become Human/Evolution/Reawakening Connor/RK800 Nines/RK900

Life Is Strange Chloe Price Rachel Amber

Fireman Sam (1987) Sam Peyton Jones Elvis Cridlington

Random One-Off characters Truman Burbank (The Truman Show) Leon Kennedy (Resident Evil) Mike Schmidt (Five Nights At Freddy's) Rusty-James (RumbleFish) Simon (Dinner In America) Ellie Williams (The Last Of Us)

[bunnydexterloveselvis]

Hiiii and welcome ✨🔆 If you are accepting prompts can i request one please, would you write cuddly fluff and / or agere with a baby BDE? especially a sick fic with a cg reader! Thank you ✨✨✨

Oh my god!!!!!!!!!!!! You're the first one to request a prompt!!! Thank you sooo much!!! Of course I'll write it!! How could I pass up such an amazing request? So cute!!! I've never wrote sick fics before so I'll try my best!!

Sick little baby.. (Agere!Big Daddy Elvis x reader)

summary: //elvis wakes up with a cold, is age regressed, and has you as his caregiver

type of fic: //age regression, tooth-rotting fluff, sickfic

warnings: //being sick?? the symptoms mentioned are sneezing, coughing, headache, mild fever, etc. no vomiting or anything like that. also it's pretty mild. he just sleeps it off, cuddling????? idk some people don't like being cuddled i guess, baby talk?? i don't think there's any serious warnings here besides being sick and age regression

word count: //675 (six-hundred and seventy-five) words

It was a fresh day, and you wake up in the morning, it’s around 8am. You look over at your sweet boy who is still sleeping. “What a cutie,” you thought to yourself. You chuckled and got out of bed to make breakfast. About 15 minutes later you come back, with Elvis still asleep in the bed. You smile warmly.

“Wake up, baby,” you whisper in his ear. He shuffles around a bit and lets out a whine. His eyes flutter open and he pouts. “Mamaaa- ’m sweepy!!!” He rolls onto his back. Oh. He woke up little! You almost giggle from how cute he is. He then sneezes three times and sniffles. “got da sneezies,” He mutters, with a short, reassuring giggle. Then he coughs a bunch. “Um, little one, are you okay??” You ask, caressing his shoulder. He looks up at you with sparkling eyes but very wet eyes. “M-mama I don’ feew so.. Good..” He wipes his forehead trickling with sweat, along with that, his soft chubby cheeks are red and his eyes are half-lidded.

He’s sick. But he has a concert today! “Awww.. What are we going to do?,” you thought. You’ll have to cancel it today. Can’t do a concert if you’re sick! So you make a call to explain that E is sick, and has to cancel the concert today. After that trouble, you run back to him. “Mamaaa…” he cries and makes grabby hands at you, implying he wants something. “What is it, E, baby??” you chuckle a bit from his overexpressed tone of voice. “Mmm.. t-tummy hurts..” he forces out while clenching his hands on his soft belly. “Awwww.. It’ll be okay. Mommy’s gonna help make your tummy feel better in no time!,” you tell him, sitting down next to him, massaging circles on his sore stomach. He looks up at you with the prettiest, sparkliest eyes ever. “Weawwy?” he asks softly. A small smile appears on his face. “Wiww mama make tummy free bettew?” “Of course honey, but you need to rest, I’ll be back with some stuff to keep you busy while I make you stuff to help you feel better! Sounds okay?” You murmur, making sure you don’t scare him. He gets scared when he hears loud noises, and you took note of that as soon as you found out. “Mhm!” he nods. You find his toybox and his paci and take it to him, pop the paci in his mouth while ruffling his hair very gently, remember he has a headache too.

So you give him all his gear, and as you walk away to go make him soup for his tummy, he cries out, “Mamaaa!! Don’ leave!!” You sigh. “E, baby, I have to make you soup so you’ll feel better. Do you wanna take the yucky red-coloured spoon medicine?” you threaten “No!! No yucky stuff!! Just wan’ mama..” he frowns and looks down. You slowly approach him and run your fingers through his hair, which usually calms him down. It did. He buries his face in your chest while hugging you tight. “I-I wuv you mama” he says into you. Making you smile sympathetically, you say, “Okay.. I’ll lie down and nap with you, but the first hurt noise I hear from you, I am getting the medicine,” half jokingly. He pouts as a joke, making you giggle. 

You pet his hair while trying not to get sick yourself. His eyes get half-lidded and sleepy. You pet his forehead in an attempt to calm his headache. It worked, weirdly, more like distracted him from his headache to your soothing touch. Elvis practically did something similar, he held you, his mama, close. Never letting go. Planting a kiss on his cheek, you whisper sweet nothings into his ear to lull him into a nap. Afterwards you make him some chicken noodle soup for when he wakes up in case he gets hungry.

You really hope he naps for a while, because you can’t seem to get this can of chicken soup open.

(i don't feel like this is good enough, i feel like it's too vague. let me know if you like it!! It was a teensy bit rushed and i wrote half of it when sleepy)

[kiankiwi]

"Oranges" cg!e x little!reader

Just a sweet little fic about hanging out backstage with CG!E!

thank you to @mooodyblue for brainstorming this little cute idea with me based on the photo below! <3

You Elvis and Memphis Mafia were all hanging out in the green room of the International Hotel while everyone was waiting for Elvis to go on stage.

You, while in headspace were sitting on Elvis's lap, laying your head on Elvis's shoulder. He was wearing a white fringe jumpsuit and you loved this jumpsuit on him. You especially loved playing with the fringe, twisting it around your finger and sometimes absentmindedly chewing on them.

Elvis often checked to make sure you weren't falling asleep on him as you laid in his lap. He stood up and paced the room with you, whispering sweet nothings to you, trying to keep you awake because the last thing he wanted was for you to fall asleep and then he'd have to wake you up and/or move you off of him once you were asleep just to go perform.

Jerry and him were still planning and going over his tour spots for the rest of the month as he paced with you in his arms. You spotted an orange on the snack table and pointed at it. "Snack daddy?" Even though the two men were having a bit of an important conversation, E stopped and grabbed it for you. If you needed something, he'd stop everything for you. "Of course lovie. Here, you want an orange?" you nodded excitedly. You loved oranges. "Daddy, help!" You whined again, wanting E to peel the orange for you.

Jerry reached for the orange, "Here, E I got it. Here, sweetie I'll get it for you." You held the orange close to you, not wanting to give it to your Uncle Jer. "No, dada do it." You specifically wanted Elvis to do it for you. You were a bit clingy tonight. Elvis chuckled. "Apparently the baby thinks you'll peel it wrong, here, give it here little." Elvis worked at the skin of the orange, giving you pieces of the fruit piece by piece. You were enjoying it so much. His fingers were going to be a bit sticky and smell of oranges now but he didn't care at all.

A stagehand came and knocked on Elvis's dressing room door and warned him, "You got 10 minutes, EP!" Jerry holds out his hands to you, silently asking if you'll come over to him. You whined, eating your last orange slice and locking your arms around E's neck. You didn't want him to leave him. "Don't go, daddy!" You whined, now a bit tired not wanting him to leave you.

"Here, sweetheart, you want to color daddy a really nice picture? Jerry will hang out with you for a bit and you can make a really pretty picture for daddy while I'm gone?" You nodded. It sounded fun to draw your daddy a picture as a present. "Y-yeah?" You nodded, nervous for him to leave. "It's okay sweetie, daddy will be back." Jerry said softly as he took you into his arms so Elvis could get ready.

"If she wants to go to sleep, just let her Jer, I think she's a bit tired already." Elvis told his friend, getting him ready to babysit you. You chose that minute to place your head on Jerry's shoulder, sighing sadly. "Can daddy get a kiss baby? A good-luck kiss?" You sat up only to give him a quick peck to the lips. "I love you little. Be good for Jerry, yeah?" You nodded sadly. Jerry whispered something in your ear and just then you repeated his words to your daddy. "Good 'uck dada! Love 'oo!" Elvis grinned so big. "I love you honey. I'll see you soon!" And just then he ran off to greet his fans.

[karel-in-wonderland]

Elvis being a bébé

Might interest @mooodyblue and @kiankiwi

[starboybutler]

Cotton Candy Land (Ch.1)

summary: on top of elvis’s already-packed performance schedule, he had been receiving all kinds of violent threats. it had started when they were out of town, in houston, but they seemed to follow him. the first threat had been harmless enough– a shoddy note with chicken-scratch writing that said “i am going to kill you”, but now they were becoming physical– and taking a toll on elvis.

word count: 3496

warnings: age regression, crying, death threats, panic attacks, tantrums

notes: hi! this is my third attempt at a multi-chapter fic, and i hope that it goes well! elvis's age regression has always been a fascinating topic to me, so i wanted to write a fanfiction based on it and how it affected him. i'm including jerry and steve because i like them. we may get smut in the future, as well as some fluff/crushes, but who knows! i'm just really excited to get this first chapter up. shoutout to bee (dontbeecruel) for beta reading!

enjoy!

dim moonlight shone through the thin, white curtains of the work suite, illuminating the room in a pale aura. a heavy, dense silence hung in the air as binder and schilling stood on opposite sides of their paperwork-littered desk, their expressions exasperated.

tonight had been stressful.

on top of elvis’s already-packed performance schedule, he had been receiving all kinds of violent threats. it had started when they were out of town, in houston, but they seemed to follow him. the first threat had been harmless enough– a shoddy note with chicken-scratch writing that said “i am going to kill you”, but now they were becoming physical– and taking a toll on elvis.

in the middle of his performance tonight, two men from the front row hopped up onstage and rushed towards elvis, and things went south. colonel rushed from his seat in the crowd, while jerry, red, and elvis attempted to draw their guns.

the men were quickly subdued, and elvis was dragged off the stage, yelling and screaming that he would kill whoever just charged him. he was furious. the colonel met up with him backstage, and it was suggested to him that the show be stopped due to safety concerns– but elvis insisted he continue. he refused to be pushed off of the stage.

binder pressed his fingers under his aviators, rubbed at the bridge of his nose, and squeezed his eyes shut. he was developing quite the migraine trying to figure out how to deal with all of this. he thought he had security all under control– but knowing the colonel, he had probably done something dumb behind his back to compromise that.

schilling was just as stressed. serving as elvis’s bodyguard, close friend, and public relations– he had a whole myriad of issues to worry about– but the most daunting was the press. he knew those newspaper writers would be on him as soon as they could, asking for any behind the scenes details of the attacks. then there was the problem of elvis’s mental state. even though he insisted he was fine, both binder and schilling knew that the man was growing more and more paranoid with each passing hour. he had barely slept since the first threat. there’s no way he would just shake off this much more jarring one.

“we should…” jerry started, hesitantly. “we should find ep. talk to him. check up on him.”

binder let his sunglasses fall back into place on the bridge of his nose, sighing as he ran a hand through his brunette locks. “will he even let us in his room?” he asks, affixing his wary eyes on schilling. “he's been pretty shaken up lately. he’s not letting anyone in. not even vernon.”

“i know.” jerry sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “i mean, he might let me in, but…”

“over his own father?”

“hey man, vernon and e have a bit of a… rocky relationship.” jerry says, shrugging. “i’m just saying, i might have better chances to be let in.”

binder fell silent, pursing his lips in thought. “it's worth a shot,” he admits, before sighing. “christ– we should really get to all this paperwork though.”

“later.” schilling mutters. “i’m worried about elvis.”

binder gave a curt nod, and followed after the taller man as he stepped out from their workspace. truth be told, he was worried about elvis too– terribly worried– but he just didn't need another earful from the colonel about his ‘hippie work ethic’, and how he was always falling behind on important matters.

sometimes it was maddening how much the colonel was on him. he wanted to walk away at times, but he reminded himself that he took this job for elvis. the colonel was annoying to deal with, of course, but binder needed to stick around to make elvis's job a little more bearable. binder always fought that old toad tooth and nail for ep to have more creative freedoms, but the colonel just had this aura to him. it's like he knew how to twist your words and thoughts just perfectly enough to make you reword yourself until you agreed with him. most of the time, steve opted for pointedly ignoring the man, but sometimes he couldn't help but snap back at him.

jerry was much more skilled at dealing with the colonel. mainly because– for some odd reason– he got along with him. schilling was just that type of guy. he got along with everyone, no matter how unlikeable the other person seemed. maybe it was his good looks, or his southern charm– but whatever it was, the colonel took a liking to him. jerry didn't necessarily see parker as a friend, but he didn't see him as an enemy either. when binder asked about it, schilling said that him and the colonel were a “strictly business” arrangement, and that they just happened to agree in those terms.

hell, maybe jerry should take his job. they’d be a lot more productive without parker poking his nose into everything binder did, and then purposely doing something to render his plans useless.

the two men stepped into the elevator, pressing the button that would take them directly up to elvis’s private room. it wasn't that far of a ride, as the work suite was in pretty close quarters with elvis– in case he needed to speak to binder or schilling about anything. it felt like forever, though– thanks to the tense situation at hand. usually when they visited elvis, it was under a much more light-hearted guise– like for a game of cards, or to see if they could sneak out on the town without getting recognized.

but nothing like this had ever occurred before. who knows how elvis would be feeling? he was so hard to predict sometimes– you’d think he'd be feeling one way after a certain event, only to find him feeling the complete and exact opposite.

the elevator halted, the doors slowly opened and let them onto their desired floor. it was quiet– almost eerily so– as they approached the large, intricately decorated double doors, steeling themselves with a deep breath.

schilling knocked tentatively, holding his breath as he waited for a response.

nothing.

he didn't seem phased. he just knocked again, a bit firmer this time, and spoke loudly enough so whoever was inside could hear.

“ep? it's…it’s jerry ‘n steve,” he said softly, biting his lip. “we uh– wanted to check on ya.”

silence.

binder was starting to get worried at this point– and it's obvious that schilling was as well. the way his brows furrowed together tightly told steve everything he needed to know.

“try the doorknob.” binder said, nodding towards one of the shiny, golden knobs. schilling hummed and tentatively gripped one of them, attempting to turn it and stiffening when it obliged, allowing one of the large doors to open.

steve swallowed heavily. elvis’s doors were almost never unlocked.

he looked over to see jerry borderline panicking. his eyes were wide, and he seemed to be frozen on the spot as he stared into the darkness of the room before him. binder placed a hand on his shoulder lowering his voice a fraction.

“hey– don't panic,” he muttered, giving the younger man’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “we haven't gone in yet. don't assume the worst.”

“okay.” schilling gulped, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to steel himself. “okay. yeah.”

they walked into the room slowly. it was cold and dark– almost pitch black, save for a small bit of moonlight peeking through a crack in the curtains. steve stumbled over his feet a few times, but jerry seemed to know the room like the back of his hand. he swiftly made his way over to the right-hand side of the room, calling out anxiously.

“elvis? it's us, man!”

there was still no response, but binder became aware of a soft, barely-present noise coming from the bed tucked away in the corner. he strained to listen out, trying to figure out what the source of the noise was, only to get thrown off by schilling yelling out again, panicked.

“elvis–!”

“shh!” binder hushed, making jerry's head whip around to face him, half-curious, half-pissed. before he could snap at steve for shushing him in a moment of panic, he seemingly heard the noise as well.

steve held a hand out, blindly feeling for the edge of the mattress. he sat himself down, leaning forward until the noise grew into a more distinctive sound.

someone was crying.

“elvis…?” steve murmured, blinking in attempt to adjust to the dark of the room. “is that you?”

only then, he spotted a lump under the blankets of the bed, quivering and jumping with each harsh noise that left it. instinctively, steve reached out and pulled the blankets away, revealing a red-faced, trembling, crying elvis.

he was curled up into a ball, sniffling gently into the synthetic fur of a small plush bear that was clutched to his chest. his tears glittered in the faint light, illuminating his flushed cheeks– the small bit of his face that they could actually somewhat see.

he looked so small, like a little boy.

“g’way,” elvis sniffled, trying to hide his face behind the now soaked stuffed animal. “leave me ‘lone.”

no one spoke for a brief moment– just out of pure shock. out of all the possible things they could have discovered, this wasn't even a possibility for them– but here they were.

in reality, maybe they should have seen a sort of breakdown coming. the death threats weren't the only thing bothering elvis. the cancellation of his overseas tour had kickstarted this whole series of events. after that, he started his american tour, which was a whole other stressor for him– then the colonel was still so adamant about him performing at the goddamn international twice a day. in other words, elvis was at his limit– and while he had the temper of a thousand suns… he was most likely just exhausted rather than angry.

still…to see him crying, cuddled up to a plush toy was far from expected. though, now that binder pondered on it, it did make a bit of sense. elvis didn't have the easiest of childhoods– growing up dirt poor with only his momma and his love of comic books to skirt him by. maybe what they were seeing was elvis’s way of trying to relive that childhood.

jerry spoke first. it felt appropriate, seeing as he had a closer relationship with elvis. with a curious expression, he knelt down by the bed until he was eye level with the sniffling, trembling elvis.

“hey, you okay, ep?” he asks lowly, his voice gentle and laced with concern. “It’s jerry. a-and steve. we came to check on you, ‘cuz we were worried ‘bout ya after what happened on stage–”

“no!” the raven haired man cried out, harshly jerking his body so that he was facing the wall opposed to schilling. “no no no! don’ talk about that!” he cried out, his voice broken and utterly distraught at the reminder of what went down on stage. he was being absolutely petulant, the tears streaming down his face becoming fatter. jerry cursed under his breath as elvis continued his tantrum. “d-d-don’ wanna think ‘bout it! j-jus wanna go home!”

“alright, alright,” jerry muttered lowly, his expression grew more concerned as elvis went on, his grip on the stuffed bear tightened significantly as he thrashed around. steve felt absolutely helpless as he watched the other man try to calm elvis down, only for the dark haired man to thrash around more wildly in frustration.

binder felt horrible for his boss. seeing him so clearly distraught made his heart clench in a painful way. he could have done a better job to prevent this pain. maybe if he had pushed back against the colonel more– elvis wouldn't be in such a pained mindset.

spurred on by his guilt, he slowly extended a hand towards his boss, laying it on his shin gently. elvis slowed in his thrashing for a moment, thrown off by the touch. he stared at steve, who was just giving him a patient, understanding look. schilling set his jaw, taking the momentary calm as an opportunity to speak once more.

“we’re here, elvis. we just want you to be okay.” he murmured.

the man stilled, his chest heaving as the tears continued to roll down his cheeks hotly, staining the satin of his top with little wet blotches. his wailing slowly turned into sporadic whimpers, his shaky hands reaching out for either of the two men beside him for comfort. they obliged him, scooting closer to elvis and allowing him to cling onto them as tightly as he needed to. he pressed his tear-stained face into the crook of binder’s neck, making the man jolt in surprise. elvis continued sniffling, his plush bear now dangling in his grasp as he weakly sobbed into steve’s warm skin.

the men shared a look, a mix of bewilderment, relief, and slight fear. how long would elvis be like…this?

“what's the matter, elvis?” schilling asked, rubbing a large hand up and down his back. when all he got in response was a series of harsh, hiccupy breaths, jerry hushed him and pat him on the back firmly. “hey, c’mon. it's alright. no more tears, you're alright.”

“take a deep breath.” binder said softly, his voice laced with an unsure, wavering tone that he inwardly cursed at himself for. “just breathe.”

the dark-haired man took a series of deep, shaky breaths, before he lifted his head from the damp crevice of binder’s skin. his eyes were red and glassy, his face shiny with his tears. his lip was trembling– giving him the look of a lost little boy. binder felt an overwhelming urge to protect him.

“...’m sorry,” elvis muttered, his voice soft and hoarse from his earlier crying. “d-didn't mean ‘t yell.” he sniffles, his face flushed with shame as he avoided eye contact with either man. “‘m a bad boy.”

“no, no,” jerry said softly, shaking his head. “you're not bad.”

“yeah.” binder agreed softly, moving a stray piece of hair from elvis’s eyes. “you’ve had a rough day. you're allowed to be upset.”

“b-but i yelled,” he murmured. “i-i yelled at you….’n…i-i-i was bein’ mean.”

“that’s okay. we don't care about that now. we just wanna be sure that you're alright.” steve explained, watching as elvis pawed at his eyes feverishly. “are you alright?”

“mhm.” elvis answered with a pitiful little sniffle, leaning into binder once more. “i’m jus’ tired…’n scared…lonely,” he admitted, pulling the tear stained bear close to his chest. “wan’ go home.”

“i know,” schilling piped up. “we just got a little while longer, and we’ll be back at graceland, playin’ football in the yard. how's that sound?”

“wanna go home to all ‘m stuffies,” he mumbled, rocking back and forth gently. “a-all them in my room, up in ‘m closet…” elvis said softly, smiling gently to himself.

“s…stuffies?” steve asked, curious.

elvis wipes at his nose with his sleeve. “l-like this guy..!” he said, holding up the brown bear in his arms. “e-e-except at home, i-i got lions, ‘n tigers, a-and even little b-b-bunnies….”

“is that right?” schilling asked, a small smile on his lips. “do they all have names?”

“mhm,” his boss muttered, shy as he idly played with his stuffed animal's arms. “all of ‘em.”

“maybe when we get back, you can give us a little tour.” jerry mused, giving elvis a patient little smile.

elvis stared at schilling owlishly, before looking away and flushing a light pink high on his cheekbones. he pressed his face into the fur of his bear once more. “okay,”

steve felt the clenching in his heart be replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling. seeing him calm, and somewhat demure made him flood with relief– elvis truly seemed happy when he was like this.

was it odd? maybe a little. steve had never seen anything like it where he was from, but in this line of work, he learned to be open-minded. he was just glad it was him and schilling, one of elvis’s closest friends, that happened to stumble upon him in this state of mind, and not someone that might have set him off more– like the colonel, or maybe even vernon.

with a little hum, steve stood. “well, we need to get going. we got a lot of work to get to.”

elvis’s face fell. he looked disappointed. “oh. okay.”

jerry cocked his head to the side at his reaction, leaning down so that he was eye-level with him. “...what's wrong?”

elvis averted his gaze from the two men shyly, swaying back and forth lazily as he muttered softly into the soft, synthetic fur of his teddy bear.

“wan’ you to stay,”

“me?” jerry asked. “or steve?”

“both,” elvis sniffled. “don' wanna be alone.”

jerry and steve shared a curious look, before looking back at the small, frail looking elvis.

“you want us to stay with you?” steve asked, to which elvis nodded in response meekly, wiping at his eyes. his movements were growing more and more sluggish, his eyes becoming droopy and lidded as he spoke again.

“mhm. need…what if someone tries ‘t attack me ‘gain? you’ll stop ‘em, right?” he mumbled, eyes beginning to flutter shut as he slurred out his words. “you’ll protect yittle elvie..?”

steve watched as the man dozed off, the ear of his stuffie between his lips as his breath began to even out. jerry pressed a hand to his lower back, guiding him to lay down fully in the soft, plush pillows.

“i’ll protect you, bud.” schilling muttered, his expression fond as he watched the man nuzzle his nose into his stuffed animal, a small, content smile on his lips.

binder blinked up at schilling, who was already kicking off his shoes and making himself comfortable in the bed beside elvis. he sat up, his eyebrows furrowed.

“are we actually gonna sleep in here with him?”

“i am.” jerry answered simply, settling on his side. “he asked me to, so i’m gonna stay. he needs me.”

“but our work–”

“christ man, if you're so worried about that you don't gotta stay!” schilling whispered, annoyed. “y’can leave if you want, but i’m staying here– where it matters.”

binder felt his face flush with shame under schilling's scornful gaze. he hadn't meant to come off like he didn’t care about elvis, but he just didn't want to have to deal with another long, boring lecture from the colonel because they were behind again. all of this stuff was kind of starting to get to him as well. all he wanted was to get his work done in peace– without hearing the colonel butcher his name and call him a hippie.

“no, i…i’m sorry,” steve muttered, fidgeting with his ascot idly. “i’ll stay. i just– ugh, i don’t wanna hear his mouth in the morning.” binder sighed, undoing the fabric around his neck.

schilling's expression softened slightly in understanding. “yeah, i hear ya. i know he never yells at me directly– but man, i hate hearin’ him yell period.” he murmured, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. steve huffed warily in amusement, before silence fell over the both of them.

“...y’shouldn’t let him talk to you like that.”

“i don't…uh, really have a choice.” steve admitted. “i’m not…the confrontational kind. i prefer to push back in a much less direct way. he just…he just keeps approaching me, though, like he knows how uncomfortable he makes me.”

“he prolly does,” jerry hummed, his voice growing tired. “wouldn't put it past ‘im.”

binder smirked crookedly. “you getting tired on me, schilling?”

“hell yeah,” he mumbled, his eyes halfway closed. “been a long day. we all need some sleep.” he yawned, finally shutting his eyes.

“fine. goodnight.” steve hummed, laying his head down. he didn't get a response– just snoring.

he laughed to himself, studying the two men in front of him. elvis was fast asleep, clutching onto that same little bear for dear life as he chewed on it's ear, mumbling incoherently in his sleep. it made binder think. he mentioned his collection of plushies at home… so how long has this been a thing?

taking elvis’s past into account, and his relationship with his mother, binder suspected that this was more that a quirk or a hobby of his. he seemed like he was genuinely a little boy. like he couldn't control his emotions. that pitiful, petulant look in his eyes, those tears rolling down his flushed cheeks, the worn stuffed bear he clutched onto like a lifeline– maybe it was a lot deeper than just another thing he did.

steve could only wonder on the specifics as he dozed off, the soft snores of the other two men lulling him into a dreamless sleep.

[star-shard]

Elvis and the Mermaid 

Premise: Elvis unexpectedly goes into little space alone, lucky for him, an imaginary friend is there too.  Note: Age Regression Words: 1.2k

The list had hit the floor. The list of things to do, the list of what came next. Elvis was out here because sand felt better than shag carpet right now. There was too much cigarette smoke lodged into that hotel room. That overheated room, full of other people’s business. As if his own business wasn’t enough. 

He could tell it was in full swing when the alcohol came out. Now, he was no stranger to a drink to celebrate. But it was his mood right now. It’d been pressing him since this flight to Hawaii. Elvis knew a regression might happen but he went to this small get together anyway. And the couple that had occupied his bedroom made it so that he had nowhere to run.

Elvis told himself not to cry. That these were his friends, they didn’t know he was getting overwhelmed. Elvis framed it like he was just going to get some air but he used that excuse to go to the private beach. He kept his head down. He wasn’t the rock star people wanted right now, and the closer he got to getting away, the closer he came to the self that needed to be right now.

The music sounded nicer out here, quieter. When it was just a distant sound from the hotel, rather than right in his ears. This way, he could hear it gently. Elvis had been age regressing not long after he started first touring. He’d never told a soul about it. 

The sunset was hitting, but right now he was more interested in the sand. Right now he was just making a castle with his hands. Since he didn’t have a pale or shovel.  

Well, he hadn’t quite decided if it was a castle or a monster yet. Right now it looked like a lump. Elvis dug his thumb into the base, it made nice mouth. And then, two quick pokes for eyes. Alright. He was starting to calm down now-

The waves.

Elvis looked at his hands. Full of wet sand. This little lump, pulled away. 

He’d been brave all day. Elvis had been brave all /day/. Acting big, acting strong. He didn’t even grab anyone’s hand when the plane touched the runway. 

“No,” he rumbled wetly, his fingers grabbing in the sand like it might bring what he built up back. “Why, why’d you do that!” He smashed his hand down and it splashed back. Practically spit at him.

“I’m sorry.” Elvis sniffled as he sat up, looking up at who might have said that. “I just thought, it was a really nice monster. I wanted to have it.”

He got a little sand on his nose upon wiping it, but Elvis was no coward, “who said that? If it was a crab? Crab’s don’t talk.”

The sun kept getting lower. That meant it could only be one thing. Elvis knew for sure, he’s read himself enough story books, that mermaids came out when the moon went up. In fact, if he squinted, he was sure that he saw a tail slap against the water. “I’m not a crab, but I think I have a cousin that is,” the voice said again.

“You’re a mermaid, aren’t you. Don’t, don’t come out of the water, you can’t breathe air.” He said with a precautionary hand out towards the wave, to make sure the mermaid did not fully show herself. Surely she was smart enough to know a good sand lump, she’d know not to go against the waves.

The mermaid stayed under, but Elvis had a feeling she was smiling, “oh, thank you, little boy. I almost came up. Are you a prince on dry land?” The mermaid lapped with the waters, the way she moved, she looked just like a reflection of moonlight. But if Elvis looked just right, he could see her.

“Sometimes people call me a king, I guess.” Elvis mumbled, noticing a little shell and giving it a flick into the water. He was sure that the mermaid caught it. “Hey toss that back.” But, the waves pulled it away, alright then. She could have that too. This mermaid sure did take a lot.

“Why are you alone, human?” The mermaid asked, it sounded like she might start crying. That couldn’t be right. Mermaids couldn’t cry in the water. “Listen now, I think you’re real nice. The ocean goes up and becomes rain, so, anything you give, I’ll give back… Just wear a helmet.” 

Elvis laughed, So did she. He laid back in the sand and let his legs get wet. He wondered if it’d pull him out. Didn’t mermaid do that? But it didn’t grab him. He just felt the water, and that was all. “I hate caviar, what’s what they had in that room,” Elvis said, though he was sure he did not pronounce caviar right, rubbing at his eyes. They felt a little wet. 

The water then had a huge lapse, almost got all the way up to his chest, Elvis squealed and pulled back from the water, “you did that on purpose,” he said, pointing to the shore, the clever little mermaid slapped her tail in time with the water, surely just playing a game. 

“Just waking you up," she said. He couldn’t help himself in smiling.

He’d always liked the idea of something magical, he loved the idea of something like that to be here now. “You were the one with your feet in my face, I get feet in my face all the time,” the mermaid said back, but Elvis could tell she wasn’t mad at him, it was the way of water.

In his defense, he hardly could have her next to him. “There was a lobster tank in the hotel. You could live there.” The water spat at him, he supposed that was an answer. “And you couldn’t shrink to a fish bowl…” He could hear her mutter ‘could you?’

Sometimes. Sometimes Elvis could wish he could shrink. Then maybe, people wouldn’t ask him to be so big all the time. He sat in the sand holding his knees loosely. The moon got higher, he got lower. 

The water felt a little softer on him. He could feel the mermaid’s hand. She spoke. “It’s hard to see underwater. Doesn’t mean the moon is gone, does it? Just look up.”

Elvis did. And he wasn’t alone. He heard footsteps in the sand, coming towards him. He was scared. He wanted to just jump into the water, swim away so no one would see him. But as he squeezed the sand, the water gave him a push.

“Elvis.” Jerry. He looked down with a kindness Elvis didn’t see enough. “You weren’t on the back porch, just wanted to check on you, are you alright?”

The mermaid. She’d swam away.

The regression was fading. But Elvis knew he had something to say. He stood up, he dusted himself off. “Jerry, I think I need to talk to you. There’s something about me, something… I’ve been hiding and- I didn’t want to tell anyone about.”

Jerry put a hand on his shoulder. Firm, caring, “I’m here, man. What do you want to tell me?”

The mermaid was no longer at the beach. In terms of imaginary friends, he had a feeling she was more comfortable out in the open ocean, swimming free. 

Fic inspired by: @mooodyblue little!E content :)

[peyneust]

loving you 🧸❤️

moodboard for one of my fave fics by my dear @mooodyblue <3

[presleyheart]

Guys

I'm new to writing but feel free to request anything and everything related to Elvis/Austin ... I'm not creative PLEASE

[angelicdolliegirlblog]

elvis dedicated“angel” to me 100%

[elvisbdoll]

Masterlist

sadness, angst. fluff, cute, sfw. smuttttt, nsfw, normal? I guess, little space

𝗕𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗼𝗻 : 50!elvis x Black!OC In the 1950s, a forbidden love blossoms between Elvis Presley and a young Black woman, but racism and segregation force them apart. As Elvis is sent to Germany, promises of reunion fade amid growing fame, leaving her alone to face police brutality and heartbreak. Torn between love and reality, she’s left to wonder if their connection could ever survive a divided world.

Sharp Shooter: 70s!Elvis x Woman!OC it’s 1974, Elvis had bought a new gun, and he teaches you how to shoot it.

Ebb and flow: 70s!ElvisXBlack!OC Elvis and the reader share a quiet evening, discussing the significance of their numerology numbers—8 and 13. As they connect over their meanings.

tea party: 69s!ElvisXBlack!OC It was a quiet afternoon in 1969, the kind of day where the world seemed to slow down just enough to breathe. Elvis, fresh off his comeback and riding high on success, found himself at home in Graceland, far from the flashing lights and roaring crowds. But today wasn’t about music or fame—it was about her. She’d been in her little space all morning, her soft voice and shy smiles tugging at his heart. When she asked him to join her for a tea party, complete with plushies and a handmade crown, Elvis couldn’t say no. After all, even a king deserves a day off to play.

Wrapping gifts : 70!ElvisXBlack!OC Elvis tried to help out wrapping some gifts, but ended up making a mess, you decided to help him out.

Honey, Honey: 70s!ElvisXBlack!OC While listening to ABBA’s Honey, Honey, you give Elvis a playful, teasing performance with a hairbrush as your microphone, swaying and singing just to get a rise out of him.

Happy birthday, Daddy! : 1977s!ElvisXBlack!OC On Elvis’s birthday, January 8, 1976, his wife and their kids, Elias (9) and Melody (8), surprise him with breakfast in bed. They bring pancakes, bacon, and eggs, along with a handmade card and flowers.

A night in Tupelo: 1950s!ElvisXBlack!OC On a sultry night in Tupelo, August 12, 1954, a chance meeting with a rising Elvis Presley ignites a forbidden connection, testing the boundaries between desire and discretion in a world that’s always watching.

Emotions : 1968s!ElvisXAngela!Black!OC In 1968, Angela, a pregnant Black woman, and Elvis Presley struggle with the pressures of parenthood and his comeback special. Through arguments and doubt, they find strength in each other as they prepare for their baby.

Be mine, always: 1977s!elvisxblack!reader On Valentine’s Day in 1977, Elvis struggles with his declining health and fame but finds comfort in his love for you. He gives you a locket engraved ��Be Mine, Always,” a heartfelt reminder that no matter what, his heart is yours forever.

REQUESTS

The One in the Polka-Dot Dress (50s!elvis)

Bridge Over Troubled Water (60s!Elvis)

Series:

The Mystery in Memphis: 50s!elvis Elvis stumbles upon a hidden journal in a pawn shop. The journal contains cryptic entries from someone warning about an event that could change history. As he deciphers the clues, Elvis becomes embroiled in a web of secrets, danger, and a conspiracy threatening the people he loves.

Velvet chains Elvis Presley wasn’t just a man; he was a force—magnetic, unpredictable, and dangerous. Camille felt it the moment his piercing blue eyes landed on her, burning through the smoky room like a warning. His charm was intoxicating, but beneath it lay something darker: jealousy, obsession, and a temper fueled by the pills that kept him going. She knew she should walk away, but Elvis wasn’t the kind of man who let go of what he wanted. And he wanted her.

COMING SOON!

From Memphis to the Caribbean: In 1975, Elvis Presley meets Lena Rosario, a strong-willed Dominican woman, during his world tour. As they connect over music and their differences, an unexpected romance begins to blossom in the heart of Santo Domingo.

[cheezyratz]

What he drew btw

(Can Gogh could never)

Regressed GB: Ma! Look! It’s us! *hands Dinah his drawing*

Dinah: 🥹🥹😭😭

[kaydens-agere]

Lost In Your Scent | @regressuary 2025

Fandom: Fireman Sam Characters: Samuel "Sam" Peyton Jones, Elvira (Elvis) Cridlington

Prompt by @mcschnuggles: Character A loves swiping clothes from their caregiver. What happens when Character B catches them red handed?

Summary: Elvira loves to swipe Sam's jumpers while he isn't around, but what happens when he catches her in the act?

Quick note, Elvis in this fic is a trans woman!! Her name is Elvira or Elle for short :) Sam is also trans but his name and pronouns are the same as they are in the show ^^ its not relevant to the fic lol i just wanted to point it out!!

Fic below the cut!!

Sometimes, when Elvira is little at Sam’s and the coast is clear, she sneaks in to steal one of his jumpers. What? It’s not her fault they’re so comfortable. They’re soft and slightly baggy, making her feel even smaller. They also have Sam’s scent, which is something that comforts Elvira, in our out of little space. It’s floral with a hint of cedarwood, it’s a lovely combination.

This went on for a few weeks without an issue. The problem arose, however, when Sam started to notice his jumpers going missing. 

He’d lend them to Sarah and James while they were over if they’d forgotten to wear something warm, perhaps they’d forgotten to bring some back? But, when he asked them about it, they said that they didn’t have any. ‘How unusual,’ Sam thought to himself.

He then asked his co-workers and girlfriend, Elle, at the fire station if he’d left any there, but they all said that they hadn’t seen them. Elvira seemed fairly tuned out of the conversation, but he figured that meant she hadn’t seen them. 

Sam furrows his brows in front of the open closet door, silently wondering to himself where they could’ve gone. He quickly shakes away the thought, however, as he’s currently got his hands full with Elvira, who’s  little at the moment. Sam has been taking care of her for a couple of months and the pair enjoyed the dynamic they’ve developed. He remembers the first time she’d regressed in front of him, the poor little thing could barely get a word out without trembling. Thankfully, they’d overcome that hurdle, and they were making progress.

Sam exits his bedroom and heads downstairs to check on Elle a, he smiles when he enters the living room. She’s laying on the floor, quietly playing with her toys. She’s babbling and humming to herself, clearly very invested in the story she’s going along with. God, she’s precious like this. He wouldn’t trade looking after her for the world.

“You having fun there, my little one?” he smiles and crouches to her level, getting a good look at all of the toys (and all of the mess).

Elle jumps, not hearing Sam coming downstairs. She blushes and turns away, feeling a bit sheepish. She’s always very shy like this, and Sam finds it very endearing, but wishes she’d come out of her shell a bit more at times.

“Aw, darling… you know I can still see you, right?” Sam teases lightly, gently ruffling her hair, earning him a squeal and a giggle. 

“Now, I’ll be right back, my sugar lump, I’ve gotta get the dinner on before it gets too late.” Sam says apologetically. 

Elle pouts, then nods. She can be quite clingy at times, and Sam feels awful for having to rush off. But he needs to get the dinner on before it gets too late, otherwise he’d have a very cranky baby on his hands. 

He quickly rushes over to the kitchen, fetching various ingredients from his cupboards and fridge. He decides on sausages and chips, easy enough for the evening, and something that they’ll both enjoy, as simple as it is.

As he’s pouring oil into the pan, he accidentally splashes some on his brand new jumper. Of course, just his luck.

“Ah, drat.” he shakes his head and mumbles. “Better go put this in the wash then.”

Sam dashes to his room, but on his way, he notices that Elle isn’t in the living room anymore. That’s strange, maybe she’s in the bathroom? She usually tells him before going anywhere else in the house, but perhaps she’d forgotten this time. 

Sam is about to go into his room, but stops in the doorway as he spots Elle. He peers inside to see what she’s up to. 

She’s staring into Sam’s closet, stroking her chin in thought. After a few moments, she grabs one of Sam’s jumpers. It’s one of his favourites, a navy blue one made from a very soft wool, one of the warmest during the winter time. 

Ah, so that’s where his clothes had gone. It made sense, actually… he’s surprised that he didn’t make the connection sooner. 

“Stealing Papa’s clothes, are we, sweetheart?” Sam jokes.

Elle jumps again, before attempting to hide the article of clothing behind her back, albeit unsuccessfully.

“Oh, sweet. You don’t need to hide it, y’know. All you had to do was ask.” he soothes, walking over and placing a hand over her shoulder.

“Sorry, Papa… I just got nervous, that’s all. I just really like your jumpers…” Elle hides her face in Sam’s shoulder. “Smells like you… it’s comfy.”

Sam smiles at her lovingly. “There’s no need to be sorry, poppet… I think it’s rather flattering that you find them that comfortable.” he gently rubs a hand through her hair and kisses her forehead. He gently guides them both to the bed to sit down. He gently cradles Elle in his arms to comfort and reassure her as much as possible. She needed a lot of that while small, and Sam was more than happy to provide that. 

After a few moments of cuddles, he gently takes the jumper from her hands. She looks at him, sadness in her eyes, but Sam shakes his head and gently puts it over her head.

“Arms up, my lovely.” he says gently. Elle obliges, putting her arms through the arm holes as best as she can. 

“There we are, dear… nice and cozy in my jumper, hm? That’s a good girl.” Sam praises as he gently pulls the shirt down.

This earns him plenty of giggles and some happy stimming from Elle, he grins as he watches her shake her arms in delight.

“My happy girl.” he grins and kisses her forehead once more.  “Now, what do you say to some sausages, hm? Right after I change into another jumper, if I have any left…”