#littlespaceelvis

Summary: You have a really bad stomach bug while Elvis has to play a show. You end up getting worse halfway through so Elvis storms off, fights with the Colonel to take care of you because that's what he does.

***

"Daddy.... don't go." You're currently laying on a uncomfortable couch in the green room of the International hotel, grasping Elvis's hand for dear life as you try to fight off the nausea rolling around in your gut. Elvis had tried to call and cancel, he really did saying that you didn't feel well. That was an understatement; you were miserable. And Elvis hoped that the Colonel could see the pain all over your face. Elvis crouched down by your face and cupped your cheek in his hand, noticing how hot you were getting. "I'm sorry baby, I know you don't feel good. But daddy has to, my love. You got Jerry here to watch over ya though. You tell him anything you need and he'll get it for ya."

You sit up then and Elvis internally jumps, thinking you're just about to projectile vomit all over him but instead you snivel and open your arms for one of Elvis's signature bear hugs that you love so much. "Alright baby girl, try to sleep, daddy loves you so-oo-oo-oo much." He drags out the so as long as he can, procrastinating going on stage as much as possible. Elvis lingers at the door and he watches as you snuggle down into your blankets and dutifully close your eyes, trying so hard not to feel how yucky you're feeling.

You made it almost halfway through the show before you got even worse, your low fever had spiked so you were sweating feeling like a fireball was traveling all over your little body and you were hovering over the trashcan, adjusting uncomfortably every few minutes, waiting for the inevitable as Jerry rubbed your back telling you daddy would be there soon but that just made you cry even more.

"I want daddy!" You scream right before you finally gag enough to start vomiting. "I know, sweetheart. Daddy's coming I promise." Jerry eyes Lamar, silently asking if Elvis has been notified because they can't hold off not telling him for much longer. Even if the Colonel says so, if Elvis finds out it'll be hell to pay. Lamar just silently nods, yes the boss knows. Thank god.

Back at the curtain to the side stage, Charlie waves his arms frantically trying to get the King's attention. Elvis, already having a hint of an idea what this is about quickly walks over still singing all the while till the backtrack kicks in and the band makes up some riffs to satisfy the audience while he's needed.

"Is she okay? What's up?" Elvis asks, his heart picking up speed just thinking about how sick you already were. "She's gotten worse. She has a high fever and she's puking her guts up. Jerry's with her but she needs you. Needs her daddy." Elvis nods. "Talk to the Colonel." Charlie goes to talk to the colonel to try and cancel the rest of the show and figure out what to tell the audience while Elvis sprints toward the greenroom that you had laid down in but the Colonel beats him to it, blocking the door.

"No, no, no, you boy are getting back on that stage tonight! You need to finish this show, these nice people paid so much money, you owe them a good time, you hear me?!" Elvis bumped the old man with his chest, sending him against the door, gripping the collar of his shirt in his fist as he got right in his face. "You listen to me. Tonight I'm not money bags. Tonight I am a caregiver and my baby is sick." Just as Elvis said that, him and the Colonel could hear you getting violently sick on the other side of the door.

"You hear that? She's sick and she needs me so I don't care what you gotta do. I don't care how much money we're out, but I refuse to go out on that stage anymore tonight you son of a bitch now I suggest you get the fuck out of my way." The colonel eyed his client icily. "You're making a mistake talking to me like that, boy." Elvis stared at the ceiling, trying to reign in his anger because the last thing you need is to hear him yelling so close yet so far from you. "You son of a bitch, you know I don't need you. I don't want you and I don't need you. She needs me so unless you want me to throw you on your ass, I suggest you Get. Out. Of. My. Way." The Colonel smirked like the bastard he is and slowly stepped aside.

Elvis barged into the room to see Jerry barely holding things together. You had ceased vomiting for a minute and you were curled up in Jerry's lap sobbing and screaming for your daddy. "I want my daddy! Where's daddy!" Elvis slowly walked up to you so as not to startle you even more. "Daddy's right here baby, I'm right here. Let's go home huh? Let's get your icky butt home? You nodded, basically collapsing into his arms as soon as you see him.

"Please don't puke on me," You hear Elvis whisper as he looks around the room, trying not to move too fast, so as not to jostle you and cause you to get too dizzy. "Hey, Jer, can you grab her bag please?" He nods. "Let's go home, bug." Jerry murmurs to you as the three of you run to the the car that'll bring you home.

"Alright sweet girl. Just tap me if you feel icky again okay?" Elvis says as he holds you tighter against his chest as you clenched your eyes shut against his shoulder as he took you upstairs to your en-suite bathroom, stripping your sweat soaked clothes off and setting your tiny aching body on the closed toilet seat as he started the water for a bath. After a particularly bad cramp, you nearly doubled over in your spot, whimpering, "Daddy." Panicking, Elvis nearly launched himself at you, cupping his hand under your chin thinking you were going to vomit. You just groaned shaking your head no, you just wanted your daddy's comfort. And you wanted to regulate your damn temperature again.

"Oh sweets I'm so sorry. We'll get you some medicine for your tummy soon okay? But first we need to cool your fever down." Elvis turned off the faucet and gently put you in the tub, where you screeched at the coolness of the water. "I know, I know. Just a few minutes until you can get out though okay."

The intense stomach cramp returned and this time you lost control of it, causing you to scream and starting to sob again. "What? What baby? What is it?" Elvis asked, concern written all of his face because there was no reason you should be screaming. He didn't put two and two together until he noticed the water gets murky beneath you. "Oh sweetie," He cooed, lifting you up and draining the tub with his other hand. "It's okay, it can be fixed. Your tummy really doesn't feel good does it?" You pressed your face into Elvis shoulder, seeking comfort for your embarrassment. "It's okay baby, I promise, see all better." Elvis cleaned out the bottom of the tub and quickly finished washing you off, figuring you'd feel better once you were in bed with E.

He quickly chooses a loose set of pajamas, easy to take off in case you get sick again or too hot during the night and dresses you in it before returning to the bathroom to get you some medicine to help your very upset stomach. You start fussing at it even though you don't want to puke anymore.

"Please baby? If you take this, it'll help you feel so much better, hm? It'll only taste icky for a second. C'mon baby please." You shook your head and sealed your lips shut. "Mm-mm." Elvis sighed. "Okay, how about this, you take the medicine and I'll take you to get a new stuffy and a new movie once you're all better, huh?" You smiled and opened your mouth as wide as you could, liking the compromise. Elvis smiled. "Good girl!" After he gave you a glass of water to wash the taste out of your mouth, he gave you a big high five. "Proud of you little." You just tiredly placed your head on his shoulder. "Oh baby... let's go get you to bed, hmm?" You couldn't object to that.

You sat in Elvis's big bed as you watched him prepare for a night full of tears and puke. He lined the floor of your side of the bed with old towels, put a pasta pot on the nightstand table for you to grab and had an extra pile of bedding on two of the chairs in the massive master bedroom. Elvis sat next to you and took an extra bowl in his lap to teach you how to aim your puke into the bowl. "Okay ready, if you feel like you're gonna puke you lean over and you go blugh, nope don't tilt, keep it steady go bluehg," You giggled, copying the funny noise he made. "I go bleugh! " "Don't move it baby, keep it right in your lap, go bleugh," He smiled once you finally copied him but didn't tilt the bowl so it would spill all over you.

"Good job sweet girl. Good girl." Elvis laid down, curled around you. "How does your tummy feel now, sweet girl?" You took a minute feeling it out. "Icky but not bluegh icky." Elvis and you chuckled at the puke noise and he blew a raspberry into your nap, happy that he could hear your giggle again.

"Okay sickie, promise to wake me if you need me?" You nod. "I love you daddy." You said as you drifted off to sleep, your body exhausted from fighting off this sickness.

"I love you too sweets."

***

Summary: Jerry and Elvis play hide and seek while Elvis is little and Jerry is babysitting him and Elvis hides so well that he calls you in a panic thinking he lost Elvis!

*

Jerry was watching a little Elvis while you were at one of your meetings on one of Elvis's rare days off and they were playing hide and seek currently. Usually Elvis picked the worst spots or revealed himself because of his habit of giggling but for reason this time, Jerry had looked everywhere he could possibly think of, his regular hiding spots and new ones. He really hoped Elvis didn't leave Graceland but there's no telling at this point. Next step was to call you but he really didn't want to get in trouble with you. I mean how hard was it to keep track of a little? I mean, when the little is Elvis it's pretty freaking hard because Elvis big or little is pretty wild and carefree and does what he wants.

Jerry ends up in the kitchen pacing trying get up the nerve to call you and update you without worrying you to no end.

He has to put on a fake happy voice and pretend that he's not absolutely shitting bricks thinking he lost his boss who currently thinks at the age of a two to three year old.

"Hello?" You had expected it to be Elvis on the other end screaming that he absolutely misses you and you need to come ASAP but it's just Jerry. "Hey Y/N." Your smile drops when you don't hear Elvis's baby voice on the other end like you expected. "Oh hey Jer, what's up?" He has to play this cool, no need to worry you yet. "Um, just out of curiosity, how long does it normally take Elvis to come up out of headspace?" That is not what you expected at all.

"Uugh, usually an hour or so, why is he coming up?" You hated when E came up without you because you never wanted him to feel scared ever.

"No, no, uh, uh," Jerry couldn't think of a lie to cover up that he had lost your husband and he didn't even want to try to make up a bigger lie because he knew he could barely get anything past you.

"Jerry." You stated. "What is going on?" Jerry hissed air in through his teeth. "Okay, um, don't freak out okay. But I may have lost Elvis. And I was asking how long it took for him to come up just to make sure he'd never just up and leave y'know."

You don't quite believe your ears. You were on your way to the elevator to come home but you have to stop in the middle of the buildings hallway to process what the fuck he just said.

"Wai- hold on, you what? You lost him? He's six feet tall and not to mention how do you lose Elvis Presley?" Jerry closes his eyes, rolling his head on the ball of his neck, leaning his head back to face the ceiling.

"Okay, okay, okay. I get it, I just-" You put your finger up, interrupting him. You had an idea, you didn't need to panic just yet. "No, wait, did you two play hide and seek?" Jerry sighs, look at his shoes. "Yes! We did which is why I called you. I can't find him anywhere." You groaned, blindly searching your bag for your car keys, stepping into the elevator. You wanted to get home as soon as possible to your baby. "I looked everywhere, Y/N and usually he's a shitty hider." "Jerry, it's a mansion. You can't have looked everywhere. E knows he's not supposed to go outside when he's little unless he's with someone. He's probably still hiding. Where have you checked? And before you say everywhere again, where is everywhere?!"

Jerry exasperatedly slaps his leg looking around, still panicking. "I looked under the stairs, checked every room, the sauna, the stables, everywhere upstairs, the office, the pool room, the jungle room, the pink room, it's not like Elvis can stuff himself under a table or under a couch. I can't find him, Y/N. And I'm so sorry but I don't know what the hell to do." Jerry pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself a bit. You start running to your car in the parking garage. "Alright, alright, keep looking. I'm in the car."

You speed home and get home in record time. You run into the foyer to find Jerry sitting on the white couch with his head in his hands. "Y/N I'm so sorry." You sigh, starting to get worried and a little pissed. Where is your baby?! "Okay let's just look. He can't have gotten far." You start yelling throughout Graceland.

"Elvis, baby? Time to come out now okay?! You won, this was a really good hiding spot but this is the end of the game okay? Come out baby, please okay?" You tune your ears hoping to hear rustling with Jerry on your heels. You don't hear anything on the ground floor so you climb the main staircase, still yelling out for him. "Baby, can you come give mama a hug, please? Elvis!" You called out and tried not to sound too panicked.

"When I looked all around, it didn't look like he moved any furniture or anything to hide that way." You nod but stayed silent. You were looking in the bathroom even though it seems like a silly place to hide but you knew Elvis could have jokingly hid in the bathtub when you finally heard something. "El, baby? Where are you honey?" You call oiut again, frozen in your tracks, listening hard.

You hear sniffling and crying coming from your and Elvis's massive shared closet. Of course! You bust into the closet to find Elvis sitting in the middle of the floor with his knees up to his chest, rocking a bit and crying. "Mama, Jerry forgot about me?" You immediately drop in front of him and cup his face in your hands, pecking his forehead and moving his hair out of his face. "Oh no baby, this was just the best hiding spot, we couldn't find you. He even had to have mama's help to find you." You hug Elvis tightly, placing your cheek on top of his head as he cried into your chest. "You scared mama baby. I thought you ran off and got hurt."

Elvis sniffled, pulling away to look into your face. "No mama, we were just playing but then I was in here forever and ever and I thought.. I thought Jerry forgot about Elvie... I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry!" Elvis shrieked. He was just playing but he was so scared he was going to get in trouble, he hadn't meant to be a bad boy! He hadn't even put himself in a spot where could get hurt; Jerry just couldn't find him.

"It's alright baby, it's okay now, I got you. Mama always comes to get you, okay?" He nods, taking a deep breath. "Mama, can we go get cookies? And butch too please?" You nod, standing and helping Elvis to his feet. "Sure baby. Sounds yummy."

You're taking Elvis down the stairs when you see Jerry coming back into the mansion from the front door. "I looked everywhere outside... oh hey, buddy, where did you go bud? I was worried about you!" Elvis stops on the stairs and leans into you, putting his head on your shoulder, shy. "You forgot to check the closets, he was in our rooms closet." Jerry groans, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and putting the other hand on his hip.

"God, I'm so sorry Y/N. I feel so fucking stupid." Elvis's eyes widen, pointing at Jerry. "Bad word Jer." He nods, digging his hand in the pocket of his jeans. "You're right buddy, here, for my bad word." He handed Elvis a shiny quarter.

"It's okay Jer. This yittle boy is just not only the king of rock and roll, he's the king of hide and seek too huh?" You ask, smiling at Elvis and pinching his cheek. Elvis blushes at the compliment. Jerry laughs. "You got that right." Elvis tugs at your sleeve to get your attention. "Cookies and butch mama remember?" You nod. "That's right, we're having cookies Jerry, you want some?" He nods. "I'd love some, actually."

***

There we go! I actually love this one! And now I'm gonna work on my babysitting overnight fic with aus! <3 hope you like it!

Summary: Elvis does not want to go to interviews so he throws a bit of a fit and eventually goes to time out. LITTLE E! DON'T LIKE DON'T READ

NOT EDITED/PROOFREAD!

IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

*

Usually Elvis loved having his hair brushed and done up but this morning he was having none of it. Admittedly it was the ass crack of dawn and he had slipped sometime in the night so today this morning he was absolutely being a terror. Not sitting still, pulling away, pushing product bottles over, screeching in protest, the whole nine. 

Usually when he gets testy just because he's sleepy, a firm squeeze of his shoulder puts him in place but today, for some reason he is just not having it. Possibly because he knows he has to be big some time today for interviews and doesn't want any part of being big today. 

After the fifth time he's pulled away from your brush, you opt to just stop and sigh, grabbing his gaze in the mirror. "You know we have to go do this, I'd rather just sit in bed and have cuddles too but sometimes we can't always get what we want, honeybee, okay? So can you please be a good boy and cooperate for me?" 

Elvis just sends you a deadly glare over his shoulder. He's sitting in a stool in front of the mirror so one, he can feel small and more importantly so you can reach his raven locks. At 5'4" it's a challenge sometimes but Elvis is a gentle giant. 

After a particularly knotted section of hair, Elvis pulls back and puts his arm up, shielding himself from this devil brush. "No, mama! No! No intervoos, no 'tinky suits, no colonel..." Elvis bravely takes the brush out of your hand and launches it across the room with a guttural yell. 

That's enough. "Elvis Aaron Presley. You do not yell at mama! You have made it very, very clear you don't wanna go but we got to, baby. We have to so we can keep up the money so you can buy all the stuffies you beg me for and the toys and the cars and the airplanes, okay?" 

Elvis turns  toward you and takes a beat before his tongue inch by inch slips out between his teeth and he points it at you. 

You take a deep breath and grab the top of his ear, pinching swiftly. "E, you better put that tongue back, mister. You know this is not the way to behave okay, now if you keep this up, you know you're going to go to the step once you get home! If we had time I'd put you on the step right now, do you understand me? Now you better stop this right now!" Elvis turns back around, looking intently at the rings on his fingers, thinking of his time-out step at the bottom of the main staircase. 

Elvis ducks his head in defeat. "Gentle." He mutters. "I'll try baby." 

***

Later that day, you arrive home finally and Elvis sighs tiredly, eyeing the bottom step of the staircase and glancing at you to see if you'll make him park his bum there. You raise your eyebrows, nodding toward it. "Go on, ten minutes lovie. Then all is forgiven okay." Elvis shuffles toward the step and lowers himself onto it, glancing up at you with apologetic sad teary eyes. 

You place your hand on Elvis' shoulder and he wilts, almost. You take his chin in your hand so that he has to look you in the eye. "Do you know why I'm sitting you here?" He attempts to look away, finding something interesting on the wall. "'Cause I wasn't nice... I 'tuck my tongue at momma, threw things and yelled." You nodded. "Yes and you know it's okay to have those big feelings but you know why I was frustrated this morning, right?" He nods as his tears finally spill over and his lip wobbles. 

You turn away and Elvis tries to reach for you but you lean away out of his reach. "Nope, no, no. Ten minutes and then I'll be back." He reaches for you as you walk away out of his sight and as soon as he can't see you anymore, all hell breaks loose, he's yelling for you and crying exaggeratedly so that he knows you can hear him even rooms away. "No momma, stay! Stay with 'e! Stay!" 

You sigh as you stay in the kitchen, setting a ten minute timer as you listen to his cries. 

Just as the timer goes off, Elvis starts to cough from all his screaming and yelling for you. Oh great, please don't puke. You think as you rush to the stairs, arms open for E to settle himself into. "Okay, shh, baby. You're working yourself up and it's all over. Shh, shh, you're going to make yourself sick baby. It's okay." He hugs himself onto you, taking deep breaths to calm himself down as you run your fingers through his hair. 

Eventually he settles himself to just hiccups and sniffles. "Shh, see? It's all okay." You peck his head. "I'm sorry mama. I was a meanie." E mutters, looking up at you through his lashes, his eyes red rimmed and a bit bloodshot. "It's all forgiven lovie. I promise. Now how about we go lay down for a bit. You're looking sleepy." He nods and yawns hugely. "Oh so sleepy. Alright, to bed we go." Elvis turns and charges up the stairs, nearly tripping at the top. 

lil elvis telling you about his day after you pick him up after daycare 🥹

Aww

“Mommy we built castles with the blocks, we read blocks, we played dress up! All the things and then I got super tired so I took a nap!” And now he’s hyper again bc he’s happy to see you and he just woke up

Kiwi:

After reading over the asks from the baby steps AU, I came up with this writing piece since I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and I thought you might like to see it. I will warn you, there is a lot of angst in this, so I’d recommend you be careful.

****

Elvis was scared out of his mind.

The little boy had suddenly been forced into the Colonel’s car (not even giving him a chance to get a seatbelt on), and now the two of them were driving haphazardly through dark streets that he didn’t recognize.

It was all his fault, he thought. As usual. He knew he should’ve gotten up and gone to the potty, but he also knew he wasn’t allowed out of his crib after the Colonel put him in there, and it had been hours…it had felt so good to let go after not being allowed to have his diapers for so long.

When the Colonel had finally come home that night and found Elvis had soiled his underpants yet again, he’d flown into a rage, striking him several times and berating him harshly. Then he’d grabbed the little’s wrist and forced him into the car, still cursing at him in a foreign language. Elvis had only had time to grab Mr. Bunny (not that it mattered much, he was the only toy he’d been allowed to have) and was now desperately trying to stifle his cries in the hopes he wouldn’t be hurt more.

Suddenly, the car stopped, almost knocking Elvis out of his seat. They were in front of a large building whose colorful sign read “The Shepherd Academy—Foster Center for Littles”. 

The Colonel stepped out of the car, moving to the side door to open it. In a last-ditch hope of appeasing his “caregiver”, Elvis reached out his arms and whimpered to be picked up. Instead, the Colonel let out a snarl, grabbing Elvis’s wrist and forcing him to walk inside the center.

“You’re someone else’s problem now, my boy. But I doubt even they’d be willing to deal with such a disgusting little creature as you are.” 

With that, the Colonel left the center, got into his car and drove away.

At hearing all the commotion, Wanda, one of the more experienced workers, rushed out to see what was going on, and was shocked at what she saw.

It was a little.

But something definitely wasn’t right.

The little black-haired boy was skinny, sucking his thumb and clutching a stuffed rabbit, and was only wearing a dirty-looking pair of overalls and a shirt; it was freezing cold tonight. He wasn’t even wearing shoes; his little feet must’ve been freezing. And judging by the dark stains on his crotch, he’d clearly had a big accident.

But what scared Wanda the most was that he was standing, and wobbling in place. He looked so frightened.

She’d seen many types of littles, enough so to recognize a little in baby space when she saw one. Babies crawled, not walked. So he shouldn’t be upright right now.

Carefully, trying not to scare him, Wanda began to approach the little boy, her warm dark brown eyes brimming with worry as she moved her long black hair back behind her ears, before she spoke.

“Sweetie? How’d you get here? Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond, just looking around in a confused way. So she tried again.

“Honey? Where’s your caregiver?”

That seemed to get his attention; his eyes began to brim with tears. “He…gone.” The boy whimpered, before suddenly falling to the ground and starting to cry as his legs gave out from under him. Immediately, Wanda jumped into comfort mode, running to embrace the tiny boy as she cuddled him.

“Shh, shh shh shh. It’s okay, honey. Everything’s gonna be all right. We’re here to help you. Shh, it’s okay. Auntie Wanda’s got you. You’re safe now.”

Elvis cried for a while, keeping his head buried in Wanda’s shoulder as she gave the other workers directions, asking one to get Helen and Trixie (the two nurses on staff that night) in order to examine him, as well as another to get a bath, a bottle, and some new clothes ready for him. 

Once the little boy had calmed down a bit, and she’d managed to get him to tell her his name, Wanda gently lifted him into her arms. “Okay, sweetie, we’re gonna take you back into the cleansing station now. Do you know what that is?”

Elvis just shook his head.

“It’s somewhere where we can get you cleaned up and looked at. There’s two good friends of mine back there who are gonna look you over and make sure you’re not sick, and then maybe we can get you some food. Don’t worry, Auntie Wanda’s gonna be there with you the whole time, okay?”

Elvis nodded, but still clung to her and his rabbit as she carried him into the cleansing station, before sitting down with him in her lap; she didn’t trust herself to let go of him yet even though her uniform was getting wet from his accident.

Trixie, a young woman with blonde hair and brown eyes, gently approached the two, explaining to Elvis who she was and that she and Helen were just going to look him over and make sure he wasn’t getting sick, promising not to hurt him. She and Helen kept up a gentle pattern of small talk as Helen examined him and Trixie took his temperature (he whined a little as the scanning thermometer was put in his ear, but Wanda managed to soothe him and get him to stay still). 

Helen sighed as she looked at Trixie and Wanda, explaining what she saw as Wanda fed Elvis a large bottle of milk. 

“He’s severely dehydrated; I can tell from the way he’s gulping down that bottle. There are bruises on his shoulder and neck; I think somebody has shaken him. He has a mild fever, and there’s a cigarette burn on his right foot. I can’t know more until we take his clothes off, so let’s get him in the bath once he’s done drinking his bottle and figure out what’s going on here.”

Wanda rubbed Elvis’s back as he finished his milk. “How could someone do this to you, baby?” She asked quietly, not expecting an answer as she patted his back to burp him.

With that, Wanda lifted Elvis onto the room’s changing table and removed his torn overalls and shirt, before gasping at what she saw.

He was only wearing a wet and soiled pair of white men’s briefs. Not a diaper, which she knew all littles needed when they were small. Carefully, she removed his soiled underwear and tossed it away before Helen and Trixie began to examine the rest of his body as she started to wipe him clean.

There were bruises, red marks and scratches all over his little body; the worst of them seemed to be on his back and bottom. Helen observed they may have been caused by a belt strap or buckle, and a couple looked like they were caused by the toe of an adult shoe. Not only that, but he had a nasty looking diaper rash, as if he hadn’t been cleaned up or changed in days. Ultimately, Wanda decided to have them take some pictures of his injuries in case they needed to go to the police with this. Little abuse was extremely rare around this area.

As they were doing this, Trixie gently rubbed his belly and stroked his black hair to try and comfort the little one. “It looks like you’ve got some nasty boo-boos there, honey. What happened?” She asked quietly, trying not to startle him.

“Was bad.” Or “Went potty.” Was all Elvis would say when she asked him about various injuries before hiding his face in Mr. Bunny. She figured it was best if she didn’t press him further for now.

As she cleaned Elvis up and began to put diaper cream on his rash, Wanda was boiling inside (as were the two other women); who in their right mind punished a little for having accidents? It was no secret that littles couldn’t control themselves, wasn’t it?

As Wanda began applying the diaper cream to his bottom, the coldness of it startled Elvis and he involuntarily let out a small stream of pee onto the changing table. Wanda was a little surprised, but it was no big deal to her; messes were just part of taking care of littles, and she’d had plenty of bodily fluids get on her over the years. 

However, what she saw next broke her heart.

Elvis began to shake and cry, covering his face with his hands and apologizing repeatedly; he was shrinking away from them as if he was expecting to be hit for doing what his body did naturally. 

Wanda immediately reached up to rub his leg and his belly, reassuring him she wasn’t angry and that accidents happened all the time. Trixie nodded, saying she was right; littles couldn’t always control themselves and no one was mad at him for what happened. 

He seemed a little confused by their reaction, as well as the fact Wanda just continued putting the diaper cream on afterwards; after all, he normally got in trouble for having accidents with the Colonel.

Trixie just smiled at him. “Would you like a nice warm bath, sweetie? Have a nice soak in the warm water? We’ll make sure you’ve got some bubbles and bath toys to play with too.”

Elvis seemed to brighten up a little at that, nodding as he sat up on the table.

“But we’ll need to take your little friend here for a bit. He can’t go in the bath with you.”

At hearing this, Elvis’s face fell. Take Mr. Bunny? But he was all he had! No way was anyone taking him away from him! “No, no, no!” He shouted, looking like he was about to throw a fit as he held onto Mr. Bunny for dear life close to his face.

Wanda, sensing an impending meltdown, quickly stepped in. “Shh, sweetie. She doesn’t mean to take him away from you. It’s just that…well, stuffed animals are allergic to tub water. It makes their fur dry funny, and it could hurt them. Does your rabbit have a name?”

Elvis sniffled. “M—Mr. Bunny.”

Wanda nodded. “Hm, pretty. Well, it seems like you love Mr. Bunny very much. And I know you don’t want to risk him getting hurt by going in the water, right?”

Elvis seemed conflicted. Of course he didn’t want Mr. Bunny to get hurt! But…if he let go of him and couldn’t see him, he might lose him…what was he supposed to do?

Trixie spoke up again. “I know. Why don’t we put Mr. Bunny on the table over there? That way, you and him can still see each other but he won’t be in danger of getting wet. And we’ll make sure nobody takes him from you. You can have him back as soon as you’re dry and in your pajamas. Does that sound okay to you, sweetheart?”

Elvis bit his lip, thinking it over. In his little mind, it made sense. At least he knew that Wanda and the others wouldn’t let Mr. Bunny be taken away or get hurt. After a minute, he nodded and handed Mr. Bunny over to Trixie, who carefully took the little rabbit over to the table and sat him up so he could still see his rightful owner with his one button eye.

You burst through the front door of Graceland after getting a call from your sister who was babysitting little E while having a song writing session of her own while you had been out shopping. The call had been a bit frantic and that concerned you because usually Elvis surprisingly didn't have any separation anxiety when it comes to you if you leave him with your sister. Elvis loved her.

But apparently he had been crying and screaming for mama because he over ate his favorite PB&B&B sandwiches again and because you know for a fact your sister spoiled him and let him have way too much again.

While on the call you couldn't hear your sister explaining very well because Elvis, with the volume he has was screaming for his mama so in the end you just asked if she would give the phone to E so you could see if that would help. \

"M-m-mama." He sobbed over the line. Your heart broke at his sobs and you didn't care how insane you looked, putting on your baby voice immediately in the middle of this department store. "Hi lovie. What's wrong?" Through Elvis's sobs you could make out him saying, "Mama, owie, it's owie." Hearing him in pain, you immediately left the store and fast walked it to the pink Cadillac. "What's owie baby?" You made sure speak low and slower than usual hoping your voice was the most comforting. He was talking to mama so that helped even just a little bit. "T-T-tummy mama. I's owie." You nod. "Did Thea let you eat too many sweets?"

You knew your sister couldn't resist those blue sleepy puppy eyes of his. "Nana mama." Elvis said pitifully. That clued you in that he had Mary prepare him a platter of his favorite signature Peanut butter, bacon and banana sandwiches. "Alright sweetheart, mama's on her way, mama will fix you up. How many did you have this time?" Silence on the line except for Elvis's dismal cries. "You can tell me baby, mama won't be mad."

It takes him a minute before he finally admits the answer. "Had three mama." Your eyes go round in a bit of shock. Of course he could put away three but you didn't expect him to eat that many in one go. You had underestimated him obviously and now he was going to be sick all night, thanks Thea.

So that's how you came to running home to your baby and bursting through the front door of Graceland to see your sister sitting on the couch with Elvis curled up, arms wrapped around his stomach and his head in her lap while she shushed his woeful cries and played with his hair like he likes and telling him mama will be home soon.

"What's going on?" You ask to announce your presence. Your sister smiles at you apologetically while Elvis just bursts into another round of tears. But this time they're from relief that his number one girl is here to comfort his aching tummy.

"Mama!" Elvis moans at you. You smile sadly. "What are we gonna do with you, sweet boy." As you sit on the other end of the couch, Elvis immediately switches from curling in Thea's lap to yours, of course wanting his mama. "I'm sorry." Your sister whispers. You nod, rubbing Elvis's back under his shirt. "This isn't the first time he's done this..." You turn your attention to Elvis who's playing with your fingers on your other hand trying to self soothe. "Huh baby? This isn't the first time you've eaten too much, hmm?" Elvis stays silent, his ears going rosy with a bit of embarrassment.

You sister lets herself out and Elvis stretches his long legs out on the couch, turning his face into you, groaning. "Mama ooooooowie." You nod. "Do you feel pukey baby? Because if you do we need to get far from this couch." You say, eyeing this horrible white couch. Why Elvis chose all white you had no idea. He was weird like that.

He groaned again, shaking his head, pulling your hand open so he can intently examine your wedding and engagement set of rings on your finger. "No, just 'urts." He mumbles. You don't understand why he's eyeing the rings when he picked them out himself and knew exactly what he gave you but you realize after a few minutes he's studying them so that he can focus on something else rather than the pain in his stomach. At least it calmed him down a bit and he's not actively sobbing anymore.

You stroke his hair, placing strands of it behind his ears. "How about this, we go upstairs, get a show on and mama will give you a tummy rub, how does that sound?" He nods, he knows you'll take care of him so anything you suggest he's down to do. "Mmhm." You rub his face affectionately as he looks up at you, loving that you're playing with his hair so much. If his stomach wasn't sore he would be in heaven. "Getting sleepy baby?" You ask. He just shrugs best he can while partially laying on you.

Laying in bed you dutifully become the big spoon so he can feel small. "C'mere you." You pull him back and curl your body around his, pulling his shirt up a little bit so that you have access to his stomach and start kneading your fingers into it, kissing his shoulder.

Elvis sighs into relief, finally closing his eyes. "Missed you." He murmurs. "I missed you too, but mama always comes back." "Yeah..." He whispers and eventually he falls to sleep, finally getting relief. Will he do this again? Probably. It's a cycle

*

I didn't know how to end this one and I probably went off on some tangents within this but I liked it. I hope you liked this one too <3

I've never done Headcannons before so forgive me if it's not that great please! <3 ill try my best

Austin!E is a HYPER baby boy!

He loves to play chase and hide and seek but even with all the great hiding places in the 18 rooms of Graceland, he chooses the WORST spots, like behind the curtains and is a giggly mess and pokes his feet out of the hiding spot

You learned early on to keep a small bag of all of his little items and right after a show he drops and walks around backstage with a paci in his mouth

Also, you can never really have anyone ever really watch him because he prefers you caring for him so on the instances you have to go out for meetings or something while he's little, he is a grumpy terror or a shy boy to his babysitter because he wants his cg to come back and feels like he's been left behind so there's always a lot of tears

Elvis has a temper when big but when he gets angry when little, He ABSOLUTELY makes sure you know he's mad. He will yell and scream and flail and throw things and get in your face with tears running down his face because when he's little he doesn't have to hold anything back the way he has to when he's big

Austin!E also really has an attitude and I love it because I feel like that's the only time he stands up to the Colonel (during his meltdowns/tantrums

Aus!E is not a great listener because when he's big, obviously he is the boss and whatever E wants E gets but he doesn't when he's little so he as trouble listening because he's so used to getting whatever he wants

This man is a GIGGLY MESS absolute goof

and he loves scaring us, hiding behind doors and corners and jumping out to scare us but then once we do it to him he's pouty and stomps away

He's also very clingy and VERY particular about his little snacks to keep him in his headspace

And he's a terror to get to sleep because he's like nervous about it because the Colonel (the vampire bastard) always needs him to be a machine and work so you always try to get him to go to sleep for long stretches of time in headspace so he can get some genuine rest but he ALWAYS fights it and is whiny because he doesn't want anyone to find out he napped because he doesn't want anyone to get mad that he's not working.

I really hope this was okay! Yay, my first headcannon!

70's baby e is my favorite!

sometimes E can be rough because he forgets while he's so caught up in playing how big he is so when something happens like he breaks a toy or can't find a stuffy he wants and comes to you for comfort, you ALWAYS have to remind him, "gentle gentle baby remember gentle" He has to be reminded to be gentle with EVERYTHING not just you

you need a surplus of bandaids in your cabinets in Graceland because every other day Elvis is clumsy, falling all over and you just hear "Ouch! Mooooommmy!" And the tears start!

Sometime because he's a little rascal, knowing you'll come running with the bandaids and kisses he'll prank you that he's crying and bleeding like omg come quick and then just laughs because HE GOTCHA

you pull faces out of the blue all the time because you love this boys giggle

Also I can see him just loving rolling around on the carpet and when you wonder at what he's doing he just yells, "Mama, I'm a worm" or "Mama I'm a rollie pollie ollie" and just rolls around on the carpet. He just loves playing on the carpet and rolling around. so much rugburn

He does wear pull ups because of his headspace but also just because of the state of his health in the 70's era. So it'd just be better, less mess and so many less tears.

He does get embarrassed during changes but he knows he needs them and he knows he'd rather be changed than having accidents and having you constantly help him change clothes or bedding so this is the better option yknow

But overall he loves being taken care of in all aspects and he loves that nothing is off limits as long as you two talk about it

ALSO: when you two are cuddling or he's laying on your chest, he does this thing where he smushes himself as close to you as possible and kinda just digs into your skin, wanting to get even closer when you're already as close as can be and you just have to pause the cuddle sesh and just be like "Baby that hurts. Gentle, be gentle love. mama's not going anywhere i promise."

ALSO! Whenever he wants to be rough, he knows he can't be rough with you so you invite over one of the guys, preferably Jerry to wrestle and roughhouse and play rough with him. That way he plays the way he wants and no one gets hurt and everyone is spending time together yknow.