#i havent written anything solid in MONTHS so i apologize if this sucks

[earthbaby-angelboy]

when you reveal your regression to E is him figuring out where and how he can make you your very own TCB paci... because he was gonna give you a necklace or ring but now that you've revealed you're little, he thinks you'll love a paci more

a little TCB, a lotta TLC | little!reader x 70s!cg!elvis (wc: 1,394) - A/N: congratulations, your request will be the first full-length cg!elvis fic i've ever written. enjoy!

You had been with Elvis for quite a while now. He knew you like he knew his music; perfectly and imperfectly, for all its quirks and flaws and melodies. He knew when you’d want something at the store by the way your eyes would light up, and he knew that you’d get all shy and blushy when receiving gifts. There was, however, one thing he didn’t know about. The fuzziness that would occasionally overtake your sweet lil brain. Elvis was a caretaker by nature. He cared for everyone, if not in different ways. For the Mafia, he provided work. For his fans, he provided entertainment. But for you, he provided life. He gave you everything you could ask for emotionally, physically, and mentally. So, it only felt right that after having been in his life for such a long while, he deserved to know about your regression.

The discussion with him wasn’t intense. It was gentle and quick, the way you hoped it’d be. You sat him down in the Jungle Room, and explained that when you were overly happy or stressed, something would “click” in your brain and you’d feel like your head was filled with cotton; like you were a kid again. He asked a few questions here and there, but quickly caught on. You were just a kiddo, and as someone important in your life, he seamlessly stepped into the role of a caregiver.

Someday soon after, he was sitting in the den with Charlie and Jerry, two of his closest confidants. You had expressed to Elvis that there was a select few people he could clue-in to your regression, but you didn’t want anyone else knowing. And honestly, Elvis didn’t trust anyone but Charlie and Jerry with the preciousness that was your regression. Tonight, the TV was playing quietly, but where he would usually be shouting at the stupid antics of the people on whatever drama was on, he was silent. The other two men in the room exchanged a glance, and before they could say anything, Elvis spoke.

“Boys, either of ya know a guy who could make somethin’ for me?” “You’re gon’ have to get more specific than that, EP. What ‘somethin’ are we talkin’ bout?” Jerry responded, as Charlie looked on inquisitively.

Elvis sighed. “I don’ really know. I wanna get my baby somethin’, somethin’ TCB. Y’all got the rings and necklaces and such, but I don’ think a lil thing like her wants a gold chain.” He ended with an exasperated laugh.

Charlie’s eyes darted back and forth for a moment before he piped up. ‘Well, you said she usually drops young. How bout’ a pacifier?”

And with that, the idea was born. Elvis wanted to call his jeweler, and have him encrust the pacifier with diamonds and put a garishly large white-gold TCB logo in the middle. After some sketching and a bit of arguing, the guys had convinced him to get you one more age-appropriate, and less lavish. While Charlie and Jerry gave their two cents, it was Elvis that made the final call. He decided on a dark blue pacifier, with pearls and sapphires adorning the edges. The middle had a small, sterling silver TCB logo, and the handle read LOVER DOLL in pink and blue letters.

He wanted to do an elaborate event that would end with him giving you the pacifier, but instead decided to do something more your style. He picked a Tuesday morning, and gave the entire staff the day off. The only people in the mansion were you, and him.

He would usually get up a while after you did, giving you apt time to prepare for the day. However, last night he helped you (unknowingly) pick a blue and white dress that matched the theme of your pacifier. With that, you chose a white bow, some frilly socks, and a pair of your favorite mary-janes. By the time you had finished up this morning, Elvis was already downstairs with breakfast all layed out. Running down the stairs, you noticed him sitting at the head of the table, a cup of coffee in one hand and the newspaper in the other. The windows were cracked to let in some fresh air, and the sunlight was so perfectly placed behind Elvis that it made him look like there was a halo floating above him.

It was almost comedic, the domestic little life that the biggest entertainer in the world had created for you.

Skipping over to where he sat, you gave him a peck on the cheek. “Mornin’ daddy! How’d ya sleep?”

You asked sweetly as you sat down at the table and smoothed out your dress, a plate of your favorite breakfast already waiting for you. Grabbing a piece of toast and shoving it in your mouth, you looked over at him with wide eyes. He put down his newspaper, and looked at you. He paused for a moment, a smile creeping up to his eyes, and responded, “I slept well, baby.”

You looked at him curiously, but nodded and continued on with your breakfast anyway. Usually, mornings were busy and full of energy. The maids would run around preparing the mansion for the coming day, members of the Mafia would be howling with laughter or arguing over which girl they would get, and Elvis would fill you in on his (and your) plans for the day. This morning, Graceland was silent with the exception of Chuck Berry’s record spinning quietly in the background. The two of you sat in quiet for another couple minutes, until you started to become antsy. Was your daddy mad at you? Did you do something wrong? Did he just need alone time? You decided to break the silence.

You looked over at him, and were a bit surprised to see that he was staring at you with a fond expression on his face. You furrowed your eyebrows and asked, “Daddy…you okay?”

He tilted his head, but didn’t break away from looking at you. “Oh yeah, honey, daddy’s alright. Just can’t believe how lucky I am to have a lil’ dolly like you.” You looked away from him, a small smile on your face. It wasn’t odd for the two of you to have sweet moments such as these, but it was the lack of craziness in the mansion that gave you the idea Elvis may have had something planned.

Shaken out of your thoughts, you looked back to at your carer to see him pulling out a baby blue box from underneath the table. “Sweetheart, you remember how I kept askin’ ya about what lightnin’ jewelry you wanted?” (You had decided that TCB felt too formal, so ‘lightning’ became a nickname for the abbreviation.)

You took a sip of your juice and nodded. “Well…yeah? But you know I don’ want no fancy jewelry…m’ too small for all that.” You said the last part quietly, but of course your daddy heard it.

“I know, yittle. Which is why I had this made.”

He slid the box gently towards you, and you straightened up a bit. Even after all the time you’d been with Elvis, you never grew accustomed to his generosity with gifts. But, for some reason your mind couldn’t grasp, this felt different. You weren’t anxious, but you were instead filled with a hopeful curiosity. Maybe it would be a new bow, or the plushie you’d asked for, or- and before you could get to the next possibility, your hands were opening the box.

Inside, the pacifier.

You stared at it for a moment with a blank look on your face, and then your eyes grew wide with excitement. You jumped right out of your seat, turned to Elvis, and flung your arms around his shoulders. "Thank you, thank you, thank you Daddy! It's so pretty! And it matches my dress, how perfect! Thank you!"

Elvis gave a soft laugh, and tilted his head up to give you a kiss on the cheek. "I'm happy you like it baby, but you gotta be careful! Can't be squeezin' daddy like a ketchup bottle, cause then he won't be able to give ya more of those pretty lil' pacifiers!"

You paused from your hug, and looked down at him. "...You made more?"

"...Shit." "DADDY!"