#elvis caught in a trap | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leiawritesstories · 5 months ago

Text

We're Really Doing This

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 28: Eloping @rowaelinscourt

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: some swearing, innuendo

A/N: ✨happy birthday to me✨ here have a fun little elopement fic!! enjoy!!

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

“And do you, Aelin Galathynius, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?”

Aelin looked at Rowan, grasping his hands. “Are we really doing this?” she whispered, her breath hitching.

He grinned at her, eyes bright. “We’re really doing this.”

The officiant cleared his throat politely, and Aelin snapped her attention back to the ceremony. With a smile bright enough to shame the sun, she met Rowan’s gaze. “I do.”

Three Hours Earlier

“So, to clarify, you’re actively trying to give your entire family and his entire family a massive heart attack?”

“That’s exactly what we’re going for.” Aelin smirked at her best friend. “Are you in, maid of honor?”

“Hell yes!” Lysandra kicked her feet giddily. “We need to go find you a dress like, now!”

Aelin laughed. “One step at a time, Lys.”

“Bullshit.” The brunette leapt to her feet and caught Aelin’s hand. “I wasn’t expecting this at all, since you and your mom have been planning a big-ass wedding ever since you and Ro got engaged, but you go, girlie. And if it’s your wedding day, you need a dress. Now.”

“What if I told you I already have a dress?” Aelin and Rowan had gotten engaged just over a year ago, and Lys was right—practically since the day Aelin came home with that emerald glittering on her left hand, Evalin Ashryver had been in full event-planning mode.

Lys stopped in her tracks. “You do not.”

“Oh, I do.” Aelin’s grin turned wicked as she crossed the hotel room and opened the closet, revealing a garment bag that she unzipped. With a flourish, she pulled the dress out of the bag, and it unfurled in a spill of white silk.

“Holy fuck!” Lys stared at the sleeveless sheath dress, examining its beautiful tailoring and the slit running up one seam. “Where did you get that?”

“Ells knows people.” Aelin shrugged. Elide Lochan, another of her close friends and one of her bridesmaids, worked as a modeling agent, and she was always picking up clothes from various designers that she gave to her friends. “I had a few alterations done, and here we go.” She hung the dress up and picked up a smaller, flat box. “And I have my mom’s veil, so she can’t be too mad at me for defying tradition.”

Lys laughed at that. “I still stand by my heart attack statement.”

“Oh, you were a hundred percent right about that.” Aelin glanced over at her phone, where her notifications had been pinging for almost a whole minute. “Lys, what the fuck? Did you text the groupchat?”

“Of course I did!” Lys patted Aelin’s shoulder. “Just the one with you, me, Rowan, and Lorcan.”

“That’s marginally better.” Lorcan was Rowan’s best man, so the groupchat with just the four of them was where they handled most of the wedding details. Aelin looked at the string of texts. “Why is Lorcan asking if we have a limo?”

“We’re in Vegas, baby!” Lys beamed. “Why shouldn’t you get a limo?”

“Because they’re tourist traps, and before you say it, hell no. We’re not getting married by Elvis.”

Lys frowned. “What happened to your sense of adventure?”

“Ro and I already went and applied for a marriage license at the courthouse, and we have an appointment there later today.” Aelin flicked Lys’s shoulder. “We aren’t drunk enough to get married by some middle-aged man in a shitty Elvis suit.”

“Fair enough.” Lysandra rolled her shoulders. “All right, lady, you better have brought all of your hair and makeup stuff, because so help me gods, you’ll be the most glamorous bride in the courthouse.”

“I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it.” Aelin grinned and opened up her makeup bag.

A good two hours later, she had her makeup done and her hair resting in rollers, lips held apart as the smudge-proof scarlet lipstick dried. Lysandra made her close her eyes as she sprayed her face with setting spray, and Aelin obediently sat and waited until Lys told her she could open her eyes and stand up. She looked at herself in the mirror, and she beamed.

“I love you, Lyssie.”

“Love you too, Aelie.”

Aelin wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, why? We’re not in college anymore.”

Lys snickered. “You said it first.”

“Oh, fine.” Aelin went over to the closet, dropped her robe, and let Lysandra help her into the dress, carefully sliding up the zipper in the back. She turned slowly, admiring the way the silk flowed over the lines of her figure, molded to her body. The slit climbed up her left leg, stopping at the middle of her thigh, and the heels she’d brought paired perfectly with the sleek look of the dress.

Behind her, Lys sniffled as she pinned the veil into Aelin’s curls. “You’re really a bride,” she murmured, and Aelin turned and flung her arms around her best friend.

“You’re the best maid of honor,” Aelin murmured thickly.

Lys managed a smile. “Of course I am.” She blinked back the sheen of her tears. “Let’s go get you married.”

She and Aelin went downstairs to the hotel lobby, and a car was waiting at the curb. They climbed into the back seat and went off to the courthouse, only a short drive from the hotel. As she hopped out of the car, Aelin looked across the limestone steps, a smile unfurling across her face when she saw Rowan and Lorcan standing shoulder to shoulder at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey there, handsome,” she hummed, touching his shoulder.

He turned, and wonder suffused his face as he gawked at her in her wedding dress. “Holy gods, Fireheart,” he finally managed to say. “You’re so beautiful.”

She blushed under her makeup. “Thank you, love.” She swept a long look up and down his figure, appreciating the fit of his tux. “You look stunning, too.”

“Luckiest man in the world,” he murmured, holding out his hand. “Ready?”

“For you? Yes.” She tucked her hand into his, and they walked up the courthouse steps together.

They checked in at the reception desk in the lobby, and an aide led them back to a small, unassuming courtroom. It looked like an office, just with a small version of a judge’s bench in place of a desk. The placard on the desk read “Justice of the Peace,” meaning that the man behind the desk was officially authorized to perform weddings and other official duties. He greeted them and had Aelin and Rowan stand facing each other in front of the bench, with Lysandra and Lorcan a couple steps away as the witnesses. Hand in hand with Rowan, Aelin lost herself in his gaze as the officiant began the wedding ceremony.

“Do you, Rowan Whitethorn, take Aelin Galathynius as your lawfully wedded wife?”

Rowan’s eyes were soft and filled with love. “I do.”

“And do you, Aelin Galathynius, take Rowan Whitethorn as your lawfully wedded husband?”

Aelin smiled. “I do.”

They exchanged rings, Aelin sliding a steel-gray platinum band with an inlay of tiny rubies onto Rowan’s finger and Rowan slipping a gold band engraved with a subtle flame design onto Aelin’s finger, tucking it into place beside her engagement ring.

“With the authority vested in me by the state of Nevada, I hereby declare you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride.”

Rowan smoothly hooked an arm around Aelin’s waist and dipped her into a fervent kiss.

Behind them, Lysandra whooped, applauding vividly. Lorcan joined in, whistling lowly when Rowan finally pulled away and set Aelin upright on her feet. She was smiling brighter than he’d ever seen her smile, her joy warming his heart, and his smile matched hers.

“Hi, husband,” she whispered.

He kissed her again. “Hi, wife.”

Aelin raised her and Rowan’s hands into the air like a winning boxer as they walked out of the courthouse and down the steps. They climbed into the car that was waiting for them, Lys and Lorcan following, and they drove off to the hotel, where the families were gathered for what they thought was going to be an engagement party. Aelin’s mother had repeatedly questioned her daughter’s desire to hold her party in Vegas, but she begrudgingly agreed when Aelin told her that was where the bachelor and bachelorette trips were going to be.

Lorcan and Lysandra went into the hotel event space first, giving Aelin and Rowan a few minutes to themselves. She and Lys had planned it out during the drive—the best man and maid of honor would say some words of welcome, and when Aelin and Rowan were ready, they’d walk in and be announced as Mr. and Mrs. to everyone’s shock.

“Ready?” Rowan asked, wrapping one arm low around Aelin’s hips.

She flicked a sultry glance up at him. “I might need a few more minutes.” Even in her heels, she still had to rise up to kiss him, and in a blur of hazy kisses, she’d tugged him into the closest coat closet. It was empty except for some hangers, since nobody was wearing a jacket in Vegas, and he backed her swiftly against the shelves, his lips attached to her neck.

“Love you so much,” he murmured against her skin.

She wove her fingers into his hair. “Love you more, Ro.”

A fist thudded against the door, shattering their little bubble. “Break it up, you two,” Lorcan grumbled. “I’m not opening this door, but you might want to get your lovebird asses out here.”

“Jackass,” Rowan muttered.

Aelin snickered. “Thank you, Lor darling.”

“Gods above.” Lorcan left, probably rolling his eyes.

“We should go,” Aelin whispered, deftly tucking Rowan’s shirt back into place.

He raised a brow. “Do we have to?”

“I want to show you off, husband.” She kissed the corner of his jaw. “Please?”

“Anything for you, love.” He laced his fingers with hers and led her down the hallway and through the double doors into the event space, where their family and friends were gathered.

Lysandra leaned into the microphone in her hand as the couple walked in. “Mr. and Mrs. Whitethorn, everyone!” she whooped.

And the crowd went wild.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

@mysterylilycheeta

#my writing #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth2024 #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass au #rowaelin au #rowaelin vegas au

47 notes · View notes

roosterm3attrash · 1 year ago

Text

101 ways to kill Barney Calhoun

I ended up making this list by going through multiple servers and people so here cuz I found it in my phone notes

Anyway the brilliant minds of the half-life fandom

1.) Waited pressure plate with tnt under it

2.) im going to leave mines under his mattress

3.) i’m setting a rake on his floor so he steps on it and whacks his face

4.) I'm giving him a bomb disguised as a cigar

5.) barney death 3: he ate what elvis presley ate….

6.) I would kill Barney Calhoun by slapping him so hard on the ass that it gives him cardiac arrest

7.) I drop him onto a pit of venomous snakes

8.) Im going to give Barney a beer but instead of beer it will be filled with deadly neurotoxin

9.) “now gordon, ive been keepin an eye out on this combine hideout for a while. they seem to walk in a certain pattern when crossing over to the entrance, which makes me think theyve buried mines all over the place. now, ive memorized the pattern, so im just gonna sneak on over, and you follow my lead, alright? dont worry, i know exactly where all the mines are.” and then he explodes

10.) that one episode of sponge bob where he eats the exploding pie and explodes

11.) set up tripwire then he falls into a tiger pit

12.) I type kill npc_barney into console

13.) slap the boobies off his chest so hard them fly around the world and hit the side of his head like water balloons

14.) i could marry him and slowly feed him mercury over a span for 3 years until he dies of mercury poisoning

15.) He tries to become a wwe wrestler but gets killed in a freak accident mid match

16.) I would kill him by making him a pizza but it’s covered in big chunks of lead but it’s hidden in the sauce and it’s a Chicago style pizza

17.) bring him to a highway and kiss him so hard he gets knocked onto the road and gets ran over

18.) Peeling him apart by the dna strand and eating it like spaghetti

19.) barney gets trampled by a stampede of horses

20.) giving him under the counter off brand viagra

21.) put him in a washing machine and turn it on

22.) shark attack

23.) pit of sharks

24.) barney gets criticized so badly he dies

25.) barney sits in an uncomfortable chair for too long

26.) He gets his arm caught in a bear trap w a beer used as a lure

27.) HE BECOMES THE CAT THAT TRAUMATIZED HIM. HE….YKNOW…..

28.) he gets stuck in a swimming pool like hes in the sims and dies from getting exhausted and drowning

29.) barney roasting marshmallows but his stick ignites into flames and he burns to death

30.) ATTACH SO MANY BALLOONS TO BARNEY HE FLOATS AWAY INTO THE SKY NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN

31.) barney gets rejected by gordon and he gets so sad his body shuts down

32.) I kiss him so tenderly on the lips that he melts into a puddle and dies

33.) i throw him in to a volcano so that he melt into a puddle and dies

34.) "I’ll turn him into a flea, a harmless, little flea, and then I’ll put that flea in a box, and then I’ll put that box inside of another box, and then I’ll mail that box to myself, and when it arrives…I’ll smash it with a hammer!"

35.) stick a bottle of beer into his throat, the whole bottle

36.) give Barney Calhoun a beer can full of poison

37.) hang a piano over the toilet and wait

38.) i think barney should have his spine ripped out through his mouth

39.) he goes to a bar and tries flirting with the bartender and the bartender takes out a shotgun and kills him on the spot

40.) punch him so hard in the penis that he shatters like a brittle glass

41.) bite him in half

42.) I'm grinding him in a giant shredder

43.) bro took a bath in hot mac 'n cheese

44.) i put him ina giant caldron full of water and i begin boiling him down to gelatin and broth

45.) barney accompanies the crew to the borealis and he steps over thin ice and gets dunked into the below zero water and freezes to death

46.) barney calhoun gets carried away by a tornado

47.) took barney on a vacation to Hawai’i and pushed him into a volcano

48.) He dies and he's never mentioned again and nobody cares

49.) died of tummy ache

50.) Stepped on by a strider

51.) shrinked until he disappeared completely

52.) blasted into the sun

53.) Stab him with 300 pencils made with real lead

54.) slip and falls and dies

55.) put him into a Minecraft furnace

56.) Barney ignores the wet floor sign and slips and cracks his head

57.) while swimming in the swimming pool he swims to fast and smashes his face against the pool's wall

58.) he gets a concussion and drowns

59.) i want to put him through a lunchmeat slicer

60.) He falls off a dumb huge cliff

61.) he lives his life to the fullest and at his deathbed at age 93, June 29th, 6:12 am he passes away

62.) he eats a burgie with too much grease and gets a heart attack

63.) testicular cancer

64.) He should get sucked into a fan while trying to fix it at Black Mesa and literally no one comes looking for him

65.) The Pita Bread Room

66.) slipped on a Banana peel

67.) ran over by a crap ton of shopping carts rolling down the hill

68.) barney overheats in a fursuit

69.) he has sex so bad that he dies

70.) Barney dies because i fucking kill him with a shovel 🖕

71.) barney eats the gas station sushi

72.) barney faints via twirling around and holding his hand in front of his forehead, and then slowly lying down with a flower in his hands to indicate death

73.) When they turn off the suppression fields he just blows up

74.) barney gets crushed by a giant boulder thats all i got son

75.) barney goes to the beach that makes you old

76.) His head spontaneously combusts and pops like corn

77.) erectile dysfunction

78.) we should also have him get carbon monoxide poisoning

79.) barney gets gaussian blurred into nothingness

80.) he eats 20 year old expired mcdonalds burger and contracts the worst case of food poisoning youve ever seen

81.) Have we done tying him to a train track like a damsel

82.) he dies in a glue trap

83.) barney develops lactose intolerance over the years of combine occupation and he drink milk and then dies from shitting hinself to death

84.) he should chocke on his favourite food

85.) barney gets lead poisoning from a 1990s garfield glass mug

86.) he chokes on plastic

87.) barney gets thrown throw a glass window from a 15 story building

88.) gordon gives barney a wedgie so bad that he splits in half and dies

89.) gordon and barney divorce and barney dies from heartbreak

90.) alyx and gordon have enough of barney’s snoring so they smother him in his sleep with a pillow

91.) he trips while walking with gordon and impales himself on gordons crowbar face

92.) if he were the size of an ant he'd be ok instead he blows up like a watermelon and his remains are fed to lamarr by a very delighted kleiner. he fucking hated barney

93.) dog roughhouses with barney and accidentally obliterates his spinal cord

94.) barney gets poisoned to death by his own chumtoad

95.) coats him in eggs and flour and fries him

96.) snatched by a hawk and eten alive

97.) barney gets to participate in a danganronpa killing game and gets executed

98.) barney opens the love-letter-for-you.txt.vbs file and it kills him

99.) elaborate rube goldberg machine to drop an anvil on barney

100.) barney dies in an Iron Maiden

101.) we should put barney under those old timey stone tablets meant to squish and torture people and make them talk

#half life #barney calhoun #half life 2 #hl

100 notes · View notes

electronicnutcycle · 6 months ago

Text

girldad!Dave Mustaine headcanons

Description: Headcanons of girldad!Dave Mustaine

Pairing: Dave Mustaine x reader

warning: Mostly fluff but slight angst .

fic inspired by: Love me - Elvis Presley

.When Dave first found out he was going to be a father he immediately started to panic at the thought of if he was gonna end up like his father and much to your concern he ended up trapping himself in the bathroom to calm down

.Even if he knew it was not gonna happen he still had doubts , but as the months went on and your belly started to swell in size you two eventually found out the sex of the baby was a girl and let me tell you , Dave was over the moon with the fact that the baby would be a girl

.After he found out that he was going to have a baby girl , Dave started to obsess over baby names and had a full list of names he liked

.As the months went on and you eventually gave birth to a healthy baby girl , Dave’s enthusiasm to be a girl dad increased ten fold ,like this man would gladly show guests her and show her off like she was the best thing in the world

.He would love to take Polaroids of her at every moment he can , he even has a Polaroid of her in his wallet that he show to anyone he comes across and loves to brag about her milestones while showing pictures

.LOVES to pretend that she’s playing his guitars and finds it hilarious when you catch him safely propping her up in his lap and pretending that she’s playing the instruments

.Hopes that one day when she’s older she’s interested in learning/playing a instrument or making music but won’t be disappointed or mad if she doesn’t or isn’t interested in learning a instrument or making music

.Dave would without question when reading to her , would put on different voices for the different characters

.Still to this day is very much still scared that he’ll be a bad dad and that he'll end up like his dad , even though he was a fantastic dad and broke the cycle long before he became a dad

.Never says no to dressing up with his daughter or letting her do his makeup, you have even caught him one time with sharpie on his face

#dave mustaine #thrash metal #megadeth #fluff #fluff fic #i love him #80s thrash #rock n roll #x reader #metallica

27 notes · View notes

claire-elvisgirl · 1 year ago

Text

DO NOT DISTURB

Summary: A strangely embarrassed Elvis tries to find a moment of relax with you after a concert, but the MM guys have other plans for you two.

Warnings: 18+, f stripping m, sex

Word cunt: 2909

“Take my hand / take my whole life too / for I can’t help falling in love with you…for I can’t help falling in love with you!” the golden curtain came down, hiding him from the public. Another great show was at the end. He got down on his knees to thank all the people, then he stood down for a while to get his breath back. After a while he got up and took a towel, wrapping it around his neck as he started to walk away towards the elevator that lead to his suite. Once he got back in his room, he lay on the bed with his eyes closed. He was waiting, waiting for you, as you promised to spend some time with him after the show. You knocked on the door and got in the room: “Elvis? May I come in?”

He looked up and smiled a little when he saw you. "O-Of course ya can, darlin'! C’mere!" He chuckled and pat the area next to him on the bed. You sat next to him caressing his hair: “You seem upset... is everything alright?” you asked.

He sighed and sat on the bed: "No, I'm not alright, I need ya to come over here and uh…help me out with something…" he seemed very embarrassed.

“Sure, what do you need?” you asked. He smirked looking down and said seductively: "My friend here needs some...stress relief"

You looked down too and noticed immediately the bulge between his legs. His cock was hard as it was about to explode! “Omg...Elvis! What happened?” You covered your mouth and laughed.

"Darlin', please, it’s not funny…I think it’s due to these damn pants. They’re too tight!" he replied nervously.

“Okay...so...what can I do for you?” you asked with still a bit of laughter in your voice.

"Ya know what to do, darlin'…" he answered laying down on the bed.

You got closer to him, but then you stopped: “Honey why don't you take your clothes off first?”

Elvis' eyes widened: "Ya want me to…take’em off?" he smiled nervously and looked at you.

“You don't wanna go to sleep dressed up like that, do you?!” you asked him with a mischievous voice.

"O-Oh no, of course not, darlin'!" he stuttered. He smiled and slowly unbuttoned the first button of his shirt. He looks at you and waited for you to make a move. “What’s up?” he asked.

“I'm just enjoying the show!” you giggled. He laughed and started doing the others buttons on his shirt before one of them got stuck on his necklace: "God damnit this stupid thing..."

“Wait.... don't pull like that... you're gonna break it!” You got up from the bed and tried to help him: “There you go...”

Elvis smiles at you as he took his shirt off and tosses it onto the floor: "Darlin'…what would I do without ya?" he asked, grabbing your face and kissing your cheek.

“You'd probably be lost and get stuck in that shirt every night!” you replied making him laugh. He tried to unbutton his pants too but he got caught on the belt and looked at you. "Uh, darlin'…!?"

You turned back to him and your eyes rolled back as you laughed loudly: “You can't be serious...”

"Darlin', I am serious. I'm the king of rock and roll, yet I can't take off my own goddamn pants…" he was starting to get really nervous. “Damn, I can’t make a thing right, tonight…”

You kneeled down by him and tried to unbuckle the belt: “Okay let me try…God honey, these are not clothes...they're damn traps!”

Elvis laughed and leaned on the bed for support as he watches you struggle. "It's harder than it looks..." he chuckled and then he looked at you. "Darlin'… I gotta ask ya a question: ya don't find this weird, do ya?" he asked blushing.

“You mean the fact that I'm practically trying to undress you??” you asked gritting your teeth trying to take the belt off. He rolled back his eyes to avoid the sight of you working around his crotch: "Ehh, when ya say it like that, it sounds...bad…like…bad bad!" he chuckled and bit his lip while his eyes closed a bit as you kept struggling with the belt.

“I can't lose to a belt, Elvis!!!” You were laughing nervously, then the belt finally comes undone.

"There we go… God, that was glued!” You panted.

Elvis laughed and turned back onto the bed. "Yeah, yeah it was..." he sighed trying to take his shoes off: "Come here, darlin'…I need your help again…"

“Naaaaaah!” you held your head in your hands.

"What do ya mean naaah? I need your help, ya better help me before I die stuck in these stupid shoes!" he answered trying to take his shoes off himself. Then he sighed and put his leg on your lap. "Darlin' come on. Please, I need your help!”

“Ok you stay sit on the bed!” you said as you kneeled down. You unzipped his left boot: “Maybe they would come off easily if you pull down this first!” then you grabbed his leg up and took off the first boot.

Elvis is cut off when he looked down and saw what you were doing: taking off his boots and not only that, but also pulling up his pant leg to do so. He stuttered: "Darlin' what are ya…Jesus…"

“Honey are you alright?” you asked him.

"Y-Yeah... yeah I'm alright..." Elvis smiled embarassed and laughed softly as he lay down on the bed.

"Darlin' this day has been so long…could ya...do the same for my other boot?” he asked standing still as he watched you do that to him.

"So, don’t ya think this is weird? I mean…a lady is literally undressing me and it just doesn't…feel normal! Are ya sure that you're not being uncomfortable at all? Seeing your…your king like this?" he laughed and looked at you, then he swallowed and smiled nervously as you took off the other boot.

"Darlin'… why are ya doing this for me?" he asked, now more calmly, then he kept talking: "I can do it on my own, ya know?"

“Sure…you have to thank God that I was here…otherwise you would still probably be stuck in that shirt!”

Elvis leaned back on the bed, still smiling but also a little nervously: "Well then darlin' it's uh... pretty weird to ask ya, but…Would ya mind taking my pants off? Just to help me, of course."

“Of course... just to help you...” you smiled. “Come here!”

"Thank ya, darlin'..." he smiled and blushed at you while he turned his head to face you as you stood over him and started to pull off his pants: “And here it goes button... the zip... and now...” You noticed immediately that he wore no underwear. You gasped and then you kept going. Elvis closed his eyes as he heard the zipping and button noises. "Jesus darlin', you're really doing this?"

“Why not?” you teased him.

Elvis chuckled, embarrassed as never before: "Ya know what people would think if they should see ya doing this to me, right!?"

“Well... nobody's here!”. You were about to continue when the door slammed open and three of his friends walked in the room. “E, are ya here? Woaaah, what's goin’ on?" they stepped back when they see you wrapped around his legs, pulling off his pants. Elvis gasped and jumped up looking at the guys as they enter, trying to cover himself.

"Goddamit, ya guys! Do ya ever knock!? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

Jerry came closer to the bed laughing: "Sorry E, we heard some...weird sounds coming from here…”

Elvis looked at Jerry and smiled nervously: "We, uh, were just…relaxing. That's all, we're just…"

Sonny stopped his talking: "This looks like more than just 'relaxing'…”

"Yeah, a looot more than just 'relaxing' E!" Red said.

Elvis tried to reply, but he was blushing like a baby: "Well yeah! My pants were a little uncomfortable so…y/n here is helping me with that!"

Joe looked down and laughed. “Uh, E, why don't ya, uh... cover yourself up a bit or something? You know…you're showing…" he pointed down. Elvis looked and turned bright red with embarrassment. "Oh God!" he quickly covered himself back up with the blanket.

Elvis' friends teased him again: "Ooh... someone seems a little excited, uh?"

Sonny looked up and slides a hand through his hair: "Man… you're really lucky, Elvis, I don't think my wife would ever do that f’me!” He laughed again and the others laughed as well. He answered with an angry tone: “Well if you’re through guys, get the fuck out and close that damn door!!!!”

The guys leave the room and Elvis smiled at you, embarrassed as ever. “Do ya still want to do what we were doin’?"

You sat on the bed, still shocked: “I don't know...are you sure they're not gonna tell everyone what they saw?”

He shook his head: "Darlin'...I promise ya they aren't gonna say anything. It was just a weird joke... that's all. We aren't gonna get interrupted…trust me!"

“Okay...” you answered laying down beside him, while he smiled and sighed happily.

"You're gonna take off your shirt?" he asked you mischievously.

“I can do much more if you let me...” you answered looking at him right into his blue eyes.

Elvis raised an eyebrow: "Much more? Darlin' what do ya mean by that?"

You unbuttoned your pants to make him understand what you were about to do. “Aren't you gonna help me like I did with you?”

Elvis turned back to you and smiled softly, starting to blush more.

He rolled on the bed turning himself completely to you: "Darlin' please, just tell me I'm not dreaming!” he chuckled. Then he started to help you with your pants. "Darlin' I need to tell ya something..." he said. “I've been havin’ naughty thoughts about ya..." he continued, looking at you with a bad baby look.

“Oh... really?” you asked, grabbing his cheek. He nodded quickly. "Very naughty thoughts!"

You felt intrigued and pulled him close to you: “Then why don't you tell me?”

"Well darlin', do ya want to know what I was thinking of doin’ to ya?” he whispered in your ear. You looked at him with your mouth wide opened: “EEELVIIIS!!!” you laughed. “Oh my God!”

He rolled his head back on the bed and laughed loudly with you. "I know... I know... ya don't have to tell anyone, darlin'...It's just that…I'm just...I've been thinkin’ about ya doing that to me… and uh...I've been thinkin’ about doing that to ya…and uh…I don't know…I've been thinkin’ about doin’ some…nasty stuff to ya, darlin'..." he stopped his stuttering for a second and he looked down at you: "Is darlin' enjoyin’ my thoughts?"

“Mh-mh!” you nodded and then you whispered something in his ear.

He looked at you: "Wait, ya mean..."

“I mean!” you smiled. “But I think you need a little push!” You said climbing on top of him.

"Darlin' hold up, what are ya doin’!? I was just kiddin’!" he said laughing nervously as you sat on top of him. He turned bright red and he tried to push you off. His eyes went wide and he stayed silent, blushing more and more. "Oh my…darlin' this is all very sudden... how did we get here? I swear we were just relaxin’…"

“How cute you are! You don't like it?” you asked pinching his cheek.

He laughed sweetly: "Darlin' I'm not sayin’ that...I mean, it's just that I never expected ya to get in charge and do such things...that's all. But it’s ok, ya can do whatever you want...I won't stop ya!"

You got close to him and she pulled off his boxers. “Bottom up, c’mon!” you said sliding his boxer off and throwing them on the floor. Elvis turned bright red as he looked down in surprise: "Darlin' c'mon! We really don't have to do this, ya know? I mean we could just stop and do this at another day..."

She puts a finger on his lips, hushing him: “Sshhh…I love you and I want you!”

He looked at you with a loving stare: "Darlin' I love ya too…and I definitely want ya too...I'm just not sure if we should actually go through with all this right now!?"

She looked up at him, caressing his face: “Don't worry... just let it happen. Follow your heart!”

"Ok darlin'...I wanna trust ya, okay?" he answered starting to let his worries go and leaning back, letting you do what you wanted.

You got up for a while and took off your panties: “Are you ready honey?”

He stared at you smiling: "I think I'm ready darlin'…I think I'm ready now!"

You got back on top of him and kissed his lips with passion, while your intimate parts are caressing gently his. He opened his eyes and looked at you in shock, blushing like a tomato.

"Darlin'…I don't know if..." he got cut off by your kiss and he let out a surprised moan as your kissing began. His hand slowly went up your body and onto your chest as you both continue to kiss; he started to moan loudly.

“That’s it…let it out!” you said stroking his hair.

Elvis laughed and moaned at the same time and then he sighed softly as his eyes went wide again: "Darlin' we really don't have to be doin’ this right now…"

His voice got cut off by another kiss, this one much more passionate. He grabbed you by the waist and he started to pull you closer to him as you kissed him hard.

He let out a muffled groan as you kept on kissing. Then after a while, Elvis moved his hand to the top of your head and run his fingers through your hair. Then he kissed you back and pulled you even closer; your bodies touched as they were laying down and Elvis' eyes closed. You moaned into each other's mouths as you kissed.

"Darlin' you're really pushin’ the buttons now…ya know that?" he smiled and moaned into the kiss again as he started to go a little harder. He let out another loud moan as he pulled her closer, going harder with the kisses. You climbed on top of him, moving your body back and forth, till you found his cock right on your entrance. He gasped when he saw this happening, his breathing got heavy and fast. His hands were shaking as he tried to get a hold of himself. “W-what are y-ya doin’?!”

“You ready?” you asked mischievously. He couldn't believe what was happening, but he felt incredibly turned on. “I-I'm ready...”

“Good, baby...'cause I'm gonna make you feel what you never felt before!”

You sat on his cock, going down and down letting him slowly inside of you. He let out a moan as he entered your tight hole. The feeling was incredible, he could barely contain himself: “Yesss...oohh fuuuuckkkk...”

His eyes rolled back into his head as he enjoyed every moment of your lovemaking.

“You feel good?” you asked moving gently over him.

“Ahhh! I've never felt this good before...Oh my god, ya are incredible!” He was shaking uncontrollably, lost in the moment: “I-I can't believe this is happenin’!” He groaned and he closed his eyes.

“And you wanted to wait…uh?!” you teased him, gently caressing his face.

“It's just... it feels too good...” he answered opening his eyes and looking at you, blushing slightly. “Please don't stop!”

You kept moving slowly over him, making sure he feels every little movement. He moaned loudly, his breath getting heavier and faster. “I want more... give me more... please!”

You kept moving up and down, then you took his hands and put them on your breasts: “Play with me daddy...play!”

He started fondling your breasts, moaning louder than ever. You kept moving up and down while he played with your nipples. “Mmmmmm...fuuuuckkkkk”

You paced up: “C'mon then...let it out...you wanted to get rid of your stress...now you can do it!”

You moved faster, taking him deeper each time. He kept playing with your breasts, squeezing them gently. “You're gonna make me lose control...Yes!! Yes!!! Honey I’m cum…Goood!!!”

His voice became shaky from excitement. He squeezed your breasts tightly, trying to milk all the pleasure out of them. “Fuckkkk” he groaned as he came hard, filling you with his hot white cum. His voice cracked from pleasure, then he lay there panting heavily, trying to catch his breath. “Ooohh yesssss...that was amazing, hun!”

It felt incredible. Really intense, but relaxing at the same time. “Thanks again!” He smiled warmly at you with his exhausted voice. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

“Did you expect something like that?” you asked laying down beside him and caressing his chest. “No way...not at all. But I needed some release after everything that happened today!” He chuckled softly and he rubbed your back as he tried to breathe and catch his breath. He looked at you smiling: "I'm just wonderin’ what would happen if the others should see us right now!”

You laughed: "Well, I think you should probably remind them to knock next time before coming in, huh?”

#elvis presley #elvis the king #70s elvis #this man will be the death of me #elvis smut #obsessed with elvis #elvis fiction #elvis fanfic

65 notes · View notes

be-my-ally · 2 years ago

Text

Caught in a Trap

This has been a WIP since…. January? It predates my Tumblr anyhow - the concept is, uh, ridiculous, a cheesy rom-comesque situation. But for some reason, I just love having pretend arguments with Elvis - it’s honestly one of my go-to scenarios. Then, this prompt came along and I thought, huh, I’m pretty sure this would work with this, so I dug it out from the depths of my files and here we are xx

prompt fill: “How are we going to solve this problem?”

pairing: Elvis (1961/2) / fem!Reader

warnings: 18+, kind of manipulative!elvis, accusations of cheating, fake date, kissing, the suggestion of oral sex… but nothing actually pictured (honestly …. this is because i feel like all i’ve done recently is write the exact same description of it …. so if anyone wants to send me those time machine instructions so i can get some more inspo that would be *great*) . fictional member of the entourage as like a billy-esque person, but just a teeny bit older. Jerry hanging around when he may not have been - i’m envisioning he just popped over for something rather than working for e in this one but that may just be bc i wrote him into it and need an excuse for him to be there.

summary: essentially an alternative, younger, take of the older, sexier ‘We can’t go on together’ - Confronting Elvis about his casual kissing and the aftermath of being told ‘sure, its fine if you want to find someone else to take you out’ - spoiler…. It’s not fine.

wc: 4.4k

as always for the dolls @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @thatbanditqueen @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain

It’s difficult, having these conversations with him, they somehow always turn accusing - both of you slinging accusations at one another. But you can’t keep watching him go on as he is, can’t keep watching from the sidelines where he’s ensconced you between the walls of Graceland. It’s painful at best, humiliating at worst, watching him with his hands on the necks of other girls, kissing their cheeks - or god forbid their lips at the gates, in the car. Wherever he happens to be. He’s always liked girls, chased after them ever since he was old enough to want to and he didn’t often see much harm in chasing now either. Maybe you would see less harm yourself, in his careless affection for his fans, if you felt like he was putting in enough effort to you - that you weren’t just being taken advantage of. But as much as you struggle through, logically knowing he loves you, it doesn’t really feel like it at the moment. It comes to a head one evening when he stalks through the front door, furious that you’d leapt from the car and stormed up to the house when he was “just talking! I was just talkin’ to her! What did you want me to do!”

You’d awkwardly stood there in the foyer, chest heaving with your emotions but uncertain what was best to say, when he’d continued his rant;

“Oh naw, C’mon now, you wanna have it out, let’s have it out. C’mon, what’s the problem?” You sigh,

“Noth-” He huffs at you, crossing his arms, his reddish-brown suit crinkling with the motion, as if telling you he knows that’s a lie. “Ok, fine. I don’t see why you always gotta let ‘em be all over you.” That’s barely the half of it, but no good ever comes from these arguments with him.

“They’ve been waiting out there for hours, it’s the least I could do!” He shakes his head, “No, this has gotta be more than just some lil jealous thing, so go on - what’s wrong, I’ve not been treatin’ you enough?” You flinch as if you’ve been slapped, its a mean accusation and he knows it; the implication that’s all you’re there for, as if you hadn’t been there before; hadn’t waited with barely a phone call a week for two years for him to come home. Despite your best efforts you can feel your eyes filling with tears, though you attempt to furiously blink them away, knowing he hates it. He sighs, “Nah, I’m sorry baby, that wasn’t, that wasn’t fair, what is it?” He grabs your arm, slinking around so that he’s cupping you against his chest, “C’mon no need for that, what is it botherin’ you?” It’s almost comical, the degree to which he is in denial about his own affinity for being the problem, but you’ve already had enough of the discussion and just want it to be over now. So you clutch at straws, mind grabbing the first thing that he might find as an acceptable reason for your poor mood;

“Elvie - Baby, I just, I never get to go out anymore.” He huffs again, pulling back a little so he can look down at you, he rolls his eyes, as if he’s about to disagree before he looks to the side, deflating a little.

“No, you’re right. It’s not fair to you - pretty young dolls should be taken out every night of the damn week,” You frown, you’re barely two years younger than he is, “but baby, I gotta, gotta work, I’m just so goddamn busy at the moment sweetheart, I can’t just, I just don’t have the time.” You pout at him, understanding but still unhappy. He pulls you around to sit down, sitting beside you, your thighs touching.

It hadn’t been a total lie; you weren’t happy about the evenings sat waiting at home, just hoping tonight would be the night he shows up when he said he would. He stares out the window a moment, clearly thinking. He meets your eyes, holding your gaze for so long that you feel like you have to look away before saying, “Well gee honey,” his tone full of faux nonchalance, “maybe, uh, maybe you can go on dates if you wanna. Find someone to take you out when I can’t. Just…just as long as you’re being good on ‘em. Real good, mama, you hear me?” You’re a little confused what’s being proposed but you hurriedly nod all the same, “I don’t wanna hear about your mouth bein’ places it shouldn’t.” You’re quick to agree,

“Of course, it’s more, I just want the company El, I still don’t have many girlfriends here in Memphis now, but I don’t wanna be kissing anyone but you.” He pats your leg, nodding almost magnanimously, clearly pleased at his generosity of the suggestion,

“Well then sure, honey, go and have fun. Actually, that’ll solve my problem with the Colonel too.”

So with that permission, when two weeks later one of the boys - Tommy, approached you and asked timidly if you wanted to go out with him that night, “I-uh know you’re with Elvis, but I know you have a, uh, agreement of sorts, and I’d uh love to spend the evening with you doll.” You had gladly agreed. Elvis wasn’t even going to be home, and he had said you could go out; who better than one of his boys?

You’re surprised, in the late evening, how good of a time you’re having, even as you can’t help but compare; Elvis would have opened that door for you. Elvis would have had a bouquet in his hand, if not something more extravagant. Elvis would have sat on the same side of the table as you. Elvis wouldn’t have flinched away when your elbows touched. Still, for being with someone who wasn’t Elvis you were having a nice enough time and it was fun to spend some time acting your age again. Being normal. It wasn’t necessarily something you’d want to do super often but both you and Tommy were aware your heart was elsewhere and so you didn’t have to worry about letting him down, and he made sure you were both still having a good time. It was honestly just nice to be out, and not accosted while doing so. You’re sucking up the last of your milkshake, well aware the date is going nowhere and therefore not ashamed to noisily suck up the dregs, the loud noise making Tommy chuckle.

“You know doll - when EP suggested this I thought he’d gone insane, but I’ve had a good time tonight.” The pet name flowed off of his tongue as easily as it seemed to in all of Elvis’ southern entourage but you can’t help but wince internally a tiny bit at his usage. However, you’re immediately distracted by the rest of his sentence, the last of the milkshake turning to what felt like pure ice running through your throat to your tummy,

“Sorry, did you just say… Elvis suggested this?” Tommy suddenly looks a little bashful, eyes wide,

“Uh - yeah, I thought…he said he thought the press would stop hounding you so much if uh - you looked unattached from him? Said people were starting to guess you were uhhh goin’ steady stead of just seein’ him. So he told me to take you out - dinner and a movie, make sure we were seen and uhhh…. told me I could do whatever you asked….you know keepin’ up ‘ppearances but to keep my hands to myself.” You’re stunned, and feel so, so very stupid. You’d honestly thought he liked you, at the very least as a friend, and while you had had no intention of it being anything but an evening that might make Elvis jealous you still had liked the attention.

“…sorry, are you saying that you were paid to go on this date with me?”

“Uhhh look, I thought you knew! I thought it was a joint thing, and I uh wasn’t paid anything more than I norm-lly would for an evening’s work. Ain’t like I took much persuadin’ - you’re a pretty girl!” Well there was that at least. “I didn’t meanta offend ya or anythin.” he sounds sincere, and while you’re still shaken by this revelation your brain is running through scenarios that may make the evening still worthwhile. You smooth your features, and smile up at him glancing at him under your eyelashes

“Well-there’s one way you can make it up to me.” It’s like he can tell where your mind has gone and he looks sideways nervously,

“Uh, well see here though doll, Elvis… he’ll kill me. He’ll kill me dead.” You let out a little, fake, giggle.

“Oh no it’s just a game - he’s just foolin with you, the silly goose.” You worry you might be laying it on a bit thick but he definitely is starting to relax. “Look, I uh, don’t think he’d be thrilled to see anything in the papers but look, if you let Jerry catch us in the caddy; I’ll double whatever Elvis was gonna pay you…” He still looks uncertain, and you panic for a second before you get a sudden flash of inspiration - “And I’ll make sure he doesn’t go mad at you.” He still looks worried but is clearly on the fence, “… and I’ll put in a good word with Jackie for you.” His face lights up. Jackpot.

It’s awkward as you drive back, both of you preparing for it, he clearly wants to know why on earth you seem to have lost your mind but is evidently too afraid to ask. And you’re spending the time wondering the exact same thing, but, at the end of the day… Elvis can only be so mad, right? He does basically the same thing all the time. When he pulls into the spot designated for the car, you turn to him - there needs to be ground rules.

“Ok. Hands above my waist. At all times.” He nods, eyes wide, “Ok, ok this’ll be fine. Just a kiss - a regular kiss, no tongue or anything.” He nods again, rapidly, like the fear is subsiding somewhat and he can’t quite believe his luck.

You don’t have to wait long, you’d timed it almost perfectly for when you knew Jerry would be heading out to meet his current girl. You can see him stand there and put his hand up to his forehead, attempting to block your headlights which you’d ‘accidentally’ bumped on when he started to walk up.“Ok,” You look over at Tommy, inching across the seat, “Ok, quick before he goes,” You don’t allow it to go on for very long, but certainly long enough and it’s only shortly after when you pull away, acting as if you were in a daze; quickly flicking off the lights and killing the power entirely. When you glance up again, Jerry’s gone.

‘Shit.’ You think, feeling uneasy all of a sudden. It was one thing to give a performative kiss, for a reason - to a fan begging for it, but quite another to have potentially done so without an audience. It makes you feel strangely guilty about the whole evening. You thank Tommy again, making it clear it’s time for him to leave; he gets out when you do and starts to heads towards the house but before he’s taken three steps you’re calling back to him, “Uh Tommy, just in case - unless he sends for you, I’d probably lay low until I have a chance to speak to him.” He looks back at you and nods. Despite your assurances (and his clear desire to go out with Jackie) you can tell he was still apprehensive about facing Elvis. He changes the direction he was heading in, instead heading for the back entrance - clearly about to go and find some of the other boys to hang out with - or maybe bum a lift home from one of them, while you get out of your car, smooth your dress and hair and head for the front door.

You walk in, expecting pretty much a party since it was the right time of night for that to be happening and hear nothing but Elvis at the piano; your stomach plummets, it’s rare he’s home at this time, and even rarer that he’s clearly alone - you feel even guiltier about what you’ve done. He’d clearly wanted you to have him to come home to, no doubt knowing you’d choose him over anyone. You head straight for the music room tucked in the corner of the foyer and see him sat there, mindlessly playing humming along but looking out the window.

“Hi Honey,” You go to greet him with a kiss, but he turns to face you and you realise you’ve severely miscalculated;

“Hi Honey” he mocks you in a high pitched tone, it deepens as he continues to stare directly at you, “Jerry just called me from the car. He had some mighty interestin’ gossip to tell me.” He pats the bench “why dontcha sit down and let me share it with you.” You look around nervously but he really has cleared the place out and there’s no one to excuse yourself with, nor can you think of any good reason to refuse him, so you do as he demands. You hope Tommy had headed back out himself. You try to keep your face expressionless forcibly relaxing your jaw, anxious not to let Elvis know you’re worried; how’re you the one who’s feeling so nervous? Although you’d expected some reaction you hadn’t expected to have to face up to the consequences so soon. Despite everything telling you not to, you sit close to him, thighs touching. You’d normally hook an ankle around his, but that’s a step too far today. His fingers play a little tune while you wait for him to talk.

“You steppin’ out on me baby?” His tone is level, in a way that says his anger has gone past hot temper and straight into cold fury. If he wasn’t so enraged you might find him amusing, sounding a bit like a petulant little boy pretending to be a man. You look over at him, suddenly furious that he, who orchestrated this whole evening, might take offence that you took part in it.

“If I was it’s because you arranged it.” He hits a flat note.

“Because you asked me to.” He’s got an edge of a condescending tone about him, and he talks slowly, like he’s spelling something out for you. “You told me I never take you out anymore and you’d find someone who would. I found someone for you. Thought you’d be happy.” He shrugs.

“So….what exactly is the problem here then?” Your tone is less than polite, but you had expected him to rage at you and his opposite reaction has unnerved you. You go to stand up, exhausted already at the argument that he appears to be ready to have again. It wasn’t how you’d expected this to go - you thought he’d apologise, make up, move on; although you should know by now that he rarely, if ever, apologises for anything. As you round the corner by him, his hand whips out and he grabs your wrist,

“I ain’t done talking to you yet little girl.” You have no choice but to pause where you are,

“I don’t see what’s left to talk about - I did what I said I was going to do, and you arranged it. Did you want me to say thank you? Thank you for insulting me like that?”

He looks over at you and he’s talking fast, lowly like he wants to get his point across as quickly as possible. His head dipping to look up at you from under his eyelashes, his hand that wasn’t clutching you gesturing with his speech;

“N-ow baby, I didn’t have an issue with you bein’ taken out, you’re right I probably don’t spend enough time treatin’ you to all that … although I think you get enough treats. But….Jerry’s just told me there was somethin’ else goin’ on. That’s different from bein’ taken out to dinner baby,” his eyes flash, and he looks you dead in your own, and despite how awkward you feel you can’t look away, his accent growing stronger as his emotions get the better of him; “that’s you steppin out o’line, steppin’ out on me. How are we gonna solve this problem?”

He’s still got a hold of your wrist and he’s holding onto it so tightly, you’re positive it’ll bruise if he holds on much longer. His eyes are burning as he looks over at you, and you can’t help but let yours fill with tears. He shakes his head and wiggles your arm,

“No. Darlin’ don’t you start with them crocodile tears until we got this all straightened out.” He tugs you to stand in front of him as he swivels to sit sideways on the bench. As you try to swallow your tears indignation rises within you;

“You’re not being fair. You step out on me all the damn time El. Lord above, I’m surprised if you’re not out more than you’re in.” He frowns, “and more than that, you arranged it all tonight! manoeuvred me about just how you wanted! How did you expect me to react Elvis? Of course I wanted to get back at you. Give you a little taste of how I feel all the goddamn time.”

“Baby,” His tone as if he’s talking to a child, “I’ve told you before - it’s different for me I’ve -“

‘I swear to god E, if you say you’ve got needs one more fucking time, we’re through and I really mean it this time.” He sucks in a breath, like despite all he’s done he didn’t expect the ultimatum, and usually you’d expect it to annoy him further - for him to tell you fine, go then. But he doesn’t, instead he looks down, suddenly forlorn as if you’ve knocked the wind from his sails.

“I don’t know what you want me to say doll, I can’t bear the thought of you with someone else.” He’s still looking down, at your feet, like a little boy being told off. You hate how it immediately endears him to you again, how you’re immediately thinking of ways you could make him feel better.

“Well why should I have to bear it with you?”

He looks sideways, “It’s ju-just,” he’s clearly nervous and he stutters through the next, “baby I have spoken to the Colonel ‘bout all this, d-d- don’t think I haven’t, he just ain’t keen on me having a girl at the moment. I don’t see how you can come with me everywhere and it not be clear we’re together.” You shake your arm where it’s still in his grip, forcing him to look at you.

“Well El- are we together? Because there’s puttin’ on a show for whatever reason and then there’s sneakin’ girls back when no-ones looking.” Your own accent is coming out stronger as you get louder.

“There ain’t no other girls darling,” he sighs, “I dunno how many times I’ve gotta tell you that.”

“That’s just not true, if it was we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place.” He shakes his head, hair starting to come out of its coiffed position with the force of it,

“I swear baby you’re the only girl for me.” You nod, and step forward to put your hands on either side of his face. He leans into them, eyelashes fluttering unconsciously.

“I know you think that when I’m here, but what about when I’m not?”

“I-I don’t know how you’re turning this onto me doll, when you’re the one kissin’ someone else tonight. I’ve been here on my lonesome waiting for you to come home.” You laugh, squeezing his cheeks causing his lips to pucker as he talks,

“Elvis. That’s my life every night.” He frowns.

“Darling, they don’t mean nothing though! I swear it’s just for show! I haven’t had another girl in any way that matters since I met you baby.” You frown back at him, that wasn’t what you’d heard, and ‘not in any way that matters’ doesn’t mean not at all but his earnest expression, with his eyes wide, seems desperate for you to believe him. “Please baby, you hafta believe me.” He pleads, and you can feel yourself slipping,

“Hmmm. Well….if you say so.” You shrug, about to pull away to take a breath and attempt to regain your thoughts without his eyes imploring you. He stands, wrapping his arms around your midriff, with a little wiggle before you can get any further away. A hand travels up to your neck, almost feeling like he’s scruffing you, but his thumb rubs over a pressure point and you can feel the tension in your shoulders ease with each gentle stroke of his finger.

“I swear, mama.” You look up at him, his lips parted - blue eyes earnest, for once not clouded by eyeliner or make-up, “I swear, I- I uh like the attention but I mean I’m a hot blooded man, I can’t turn that off baby, and if a girl’s gonna throw herself at me, I’m not gonna shove her away.” You frown, you’d been about to cave in to anything he said, but you’re hesitant again now - unsure what you’d be agreeing to if not, essentially, giving him permission to do whatever the hell he likes. His hand grips your hip tighter, as if he can sense he’s losing you. “No, c’mon baby, you know it makes sense - it’s, it don’t mean nothing, I swear it, I swear it on, on,” He looks around desperate for divine inspiration, “On my Mama’s grave I swear - you’re my girl.” You’re taken aback by that, it wasn’t something you’d ever heard him say before and Gladys’ name wasn’t ever brought up in any kind of jest. You can’t help but totally believe him. You duck your head, hating yourself a little for making him swear such a promise,

“Oh no, Elvis, I only kissed him to get back at you - make you jealous.” He tucks your head against him, holding you close and shushes you,

“I know sweet, I know. Bet he wasn’t even a good kisser was he? He’s just a boy, ain’t a man like you need.” You shake your head against his chest groaning a little at what you’re about to confess, playing in to his little pissing competition.

“No…wasn’t good at all. Hadda….had to lead.” Elvis laughs,

“Oh no, sweet little thing like you shouldn’t hafta be in charge. You oughta be taken care of.” He tips your head back and brushes your tears away with his thumbs. “No more tears mama,” and he kisses you, gently - twice on the mouth before moving to the side of your face. Butterfly kisses, before leading you by the hand over to the sofa, “Lemme take care of ya, doll.”

He sits, legs parted and his hands grip your hips holding you in place before dragging you closer, it forces you to look down at him. Simultaneously making you feel a little small, and a little like a child, you thread your fingers through his hair, weaving the strands, stiff with gel and spray past your knuckles to tilt his head up. He smiles up at you, a little private half-smile, his eyes crinkling and you’re helpless to anything except leaning down to press a kiss against it. He takes the opportunity of the momentum of your leaning down to tug you onto his lap. Breaking your hold on his hair, and the touch of your lips on his. He takes a moment to situate you, tugging with a hand under your thigh to pull you ever closer to him. Once you’re firmly tucked against his side his other hand travels up your back to support your head, as if you needed it, gripping your neck, the other a heavy presence on your thigh. You shift, helplessly trapped by his hold on you - as if you’d even want to get away, unable to do anything but melt against his chest.

You glance about, sure that the silence and solitude you had found him in was soon to be broken, and nervous about going any further if there was a threat of being interrupted.

“Nah, baby, no-one’s around,” He leans forward, kissing your neck, “Let - “ he moves closer, to your cheek, murmuring against your skin, “me, make it up to you.” He whispered right against your lips. You sink into him completely, lips parting of their own accord, and he delves into them. It’s perfect, despite the slightly awkward angle, and you can’t help but sigh a little breath of relief at the feeling of it, so different from the gentle, chaste kiss in the car. Utterly perfect with his sharp nippy little teeth and darting tongue. He pulls you back, shifting you back but lower, until you’re pretty much horizontal on the sofa, pulling his hand out from under your neck to lay you down completely. He shifts, tumbling off, onto his knees.

He pulls you around with a grip on your thighs before positioning you exactly how he wants, on your back, with your feet planted firmly down, legs spread. He tugs you closer to him, so that you’re almost coming off the couch yourself, pushing your legs apart further so that he could kneel between them. You aren’t sure about this. Not in, essentially, the very first room of the house - not, right by the front door.

“C’mon I’ll make you feel good doll, and then, then I’ll take ya upstairs and you can apologise real pretty to me too.” You frown, about to protest - to suggest, ‘hey how about we go straight upstairs now?’ when all thoughts are gone from your mind as he pushes your already bunched up dress further up and leans in, his breath hot against your panties. He’s … very good at this, and you’re under no illusions that by the time he’s half carrying you on wobbly legs up the stairs that you’ll have completely forgotten about any of those other girls, and by the time he’s placing you on your knees in front of him in the bedroom, that you’ll have totally forgiven him for any future transgressions as well.

#writing prompt game #60s elvis x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis smut is probably a bit too far for what’s in this #so idk #light elvis smut #be-my-ally

168 notes · View notes

missmaywemeetagain · 8 months ago

Text

EXCLUSIVE--Pink Scarf, Part 1.5, from Elvis' POV up now on Patreon for members! 💗🧣💗

Join HERE to read now! 🎉

SNEAK PEEK:

It’s been a hell of a night.

It was touch and go for a while—Elvis was scared absolutely shitless before the show, the worst stage fright he’s ever had—hell, for a moment there he wasn’t sure he was gonna be able to go on at all, which would’ve been utterly humiliating. But he did it. He conquered.

And lord, it feels good being back.

Once the jitters released into his movements and his songs, his true self emerged on stage, for the first time in a long time. Something within him had been trapped for so damn long and finally he was able to release it. His entire body and soul felt electric. Dialed in. Exactly as it was supposed to be.

And now he’s flying on cloud nine, that post-show glow keeping him alert and enjoying every minute of the adulation and praise he is receiving. He needs this, he’s been missing this, craving this. His fans. His music.

And you.

He can feel those pretty eyes of yours on him—from the moment he graced the stage to right now—locked in from across the bar. He could always feel them, to be honest, but usually he has his wits about him. If it were any other night, he’d have the wherewithal to resist the pull of those big, beautiful eyes, but this isn’t any other night and he’s feeling so riled and high on adrenaline he doesn’t give a shit about the consequences.

It's more than just want. He needs you.

As the evening lulls the slightest bit, he catches your openly sensuous stare from across the room. Of course, the second you know you’ve been caught, you look away, hiding the heat of your flushed cheeks behind annoyance and a half-empty cocktail, but he can’t deny the electric thrill that runs down his spine in response. You haven’t looked at him like that in a very, very long time. It sets something off in him that has been pushed back for so long that the realization of it in this particular moment feels overwhelming and all-consuming.

That’s when he knows he’s going to do something he shouldn’t do...

Join and read the rest HERE! 🎉

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

@littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

#pink scarf #new!#from Elvis' POV!#elvis #elvis presley #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis 1969 #scarf exclusive

29 notes · View notes

hooked-on-elvis · 1 month ago

Text

Source: Book "Caught In A Trap" by Arjan Deelen and Laurens van Houten.

Elvis during that 1973 Elvis Summer Festival. Photographer: Laurens van Houten.

"Elvis would probably be considered a baritone, but he could reach notes that most baritone singers couldn't reach. Much of his abilities were emanated from a very intense desire to execute a song as he wanted to do it, which meant that he really sang higher than he really was able to sing. Because he had the desire, he had the will to excel above what he was really capable of. | think often when the adrenalin is going, and the song is really pumping, you can get into that mode where you can actually do things vocally that you couldn't normally do. He had a tremendous range because of his desire to excel and be better. That's why he could do a lot of things that most people couldn't do." (...) "Elvis was very loyal, but he expected loyalty from his people too. He had a group of men who were lovingly called the Memphis Mafia. They were around him all the time and helped him, supported him, encouraged him… Because deep down he was not really sure that he was worthy to be called “Тһе King of Rock 'n' Roll. So he had to be reminded of how great he was. It's difficult to go out there every night and prove that you're The King of Rock 'n' Roll, when you may not feel like it that night."

— Terry Blackwood, backing vocalist for Elvis as part of The Imperials, 1969 - '71.

"Elvis was the kind of guy that needed new things. He needed to be inspired about certain things. And І personally feel that management was not doing that for him. | personally feel that at that point of his life he should have traveled. He should have gone all over Europe, he should have gone to Asia, he should have gone around the world. No other artist in our time could have gone every place that he could have gone. | mean, there's no place where the man couldn't have gone. There's no place that wouldn't һауе welcomed him. Even in the most remote parts of Russia | think they know Elvis Presley! Just think about that. And | think that deep down he knew that, and that was part of his frustration."

— Ronnie Tutt, Elvis' TCB Band drummer.

All pictures an:d excepts from the book "Caught In A Trap" by Arjan Deelen and Laurens van Houten.

#i'm taking my sweet time reading that book #it's amazing!#those photographs are unbelievably good #elvis presley #elvis history #elvis #elvis library #caught in a trap #elvis photographs #laurens van houten #70s elvis #1973 #elvis the king

25 notes · View notes

robertmatejcek · 4 months ago

Text

I Call Cap (Suspicious Minds) - acrylic painting - 6"x6" mdf - 2024

“We're caught in a trap… I can't walk out… Because I love you too much, baby…" - Elvis Presley - Suspicious Minds

tags

19 notes · View notes

elvisabutler · 2 years ago

Text

elvis presley x reader

give you my heart ( rated t, big daddy elvis ) come and trim my christmas tree ( rated m, big daddy elvis. the smuttier version of give you my heart. ) sentimental over you ( rated g, big daddy elvis fluff. ) the happiest place on earth is here with you ( rated t, 60s elvis. ) catharsis ( rated m, sub big daddy e. gender neutral reader. ) teddy bear ( rated t, big daddy elvis, plus size reader. ) i got a feeling in my body ( rated m, 60s elvis sugar daddy. work in progress. ) never, no never, a baby, baby like mine ( rated m, 70s/big daddy elvis. sequel to my baby’s sure his love’s secure from kinktober. work in progress. ) make you know it ( big daddy elvis showing female reader how good sex can be. work in progress. ) orpheus ( elvis x priscilla x reader. sequel to gravity. work in progress. ) watch the smoke pour out the doors ( rated m, vampire elvis ) is this a sexual buffet or a comeback special? ( rated m, incubus elvis. co-written with @prompted-wordsmith ) teeth grown sharp and glowing red ( rated me, incubus elvis. sequel to is this a sexual buffet or a comeback special? co-written once again with @prompted-wordsmith. ) queen of graceland verse ( that one breeding kink-ish series ) masterlist professor presley ( big daddy ) masterlist beyond the sea verse ( selkie elvis ) masterlist gunmetal masterlist

elvis presley x original female character

spark masterlist ( never famous big daddy electrician au with war ptsd, elvis the pelvis mentions and tragic married women oh my. rated ) quiet on the set masterlist ( late hollywood elvis gets directed by alfred hitchcock's daughter and falls head over heels in love and shenanigans happen. ft. elvis as stanley from streetcar named desire and as rooster from true grit. )

elvis presley

caught in a trap masterlist

#*masterlist #masterlist #*admin #elvis presley fanfiction #that last one is more i mean technically it doesn't necessarily have a pairing so where do i put it?

124 notes · View notes

heckcareoxytwit · 4 months ago

Text

Shocker is attacked by the the reanimated Zombiote Boomerang who came out of the body bag during the chaos. When Shocker gets pinned to the floor by his zombified friend, he reaches for the trinket and smashes it at Zombiote Boomerang's face. She-Hulk, Overdrive and the kids are still in trouble with the Zombiote versions of the bartender and the dog. As Overdrive is freed by She-Hulk, he manages to save the kids by stopping the Zombiote dog with the modified cash register machine. Then, Shocker gets caught by the Zombiote Hellcat and Zombiote Boomerang that he becomes trapped in a tug-of-war. Shocker notices that Zombiote Boomerang is trying to say his name and he believes that the magic trinket may have revived him a bit but with its unpredictable magic, it doesn't work well when the Zombiote is still inside him and Boomerang is trying to fight the Zombiote influence.

She-Hulk does the shockwave clap, saving not only Shocker from the tug-of-war, it's also frees Hellcat and the bartender from the Zombiotes. However, Boomerang is still is his Zombiote state and he bites Shocker, turning him into a Zombiote. The freed Hellcat calls her friend to do a shockwave clap again but unfortunately, She-Hulk is weak and exhausted that the Zombiote takes over her. Overdrive and the freed bartender are attacked by the Zombiote She-Hulk and the Zombiote dog. The bartender figures out that the sound attack (thanks to She-Hulk's shockwave clap) could stop the Zombiotes so she tries to turn up the volumes of her stereo. The loud music (with Elvis Presley's song) from the stereo did not do much good until Overdrive turns it into the louder bass music which drove the Zombiotes away, freeing She-Hulk, Shocker, Boomerang and the dog. Shocker wakes up from the dog's lick and a splitting headache but he is safe, so are everyone else in the bar. Shocker sees Boomerang alive and well that he hugs him, crying in happiness.

Venom War: Zombiotes #3, 2024

#wednesday spoilers #Shocker #Herman Schultz #Boomerang #Fred Myers #Overdrive #James Beverley #Superior Foes #She Hulk #Jennifer Walters #Hellcat #Patsy Walker #Avengers #the avengers #Zombiotes #venom war: zombiotes #Venom War #marvel

12 notes · View notes

melancholicbutterflies · 2 years ago

Text

Siren

Summary: You’re a siren washed up on the beach. Elvis and his mafia discover you, and Elvis suddenly becomes very protective.

Warnings: none - wholesome as shit lil’ drabble. protective!elvis incoming!

A/N: well this one came out of left field. LOL. i suddenly felt compelled to write this weird, supernatural-y fluff piece that was completely self-indulgent. with that said i hope yall like it anyway!

The taller of the male humans approach you with caution. Alarmed, you inch backward, an effort that is in vain; unused to being on land, you cannot maneuver your body in the way that you want, the sand creating a divot from your tail’s efforts to retreat, effectively trapping you in place.

“Don’t worry, hunny, I ain’t gon’ hurtcha,” he male coos, a deep low murmur that sounds soothing to your ears, although its language remains foreign to you.

You tilt your head in confusion, stilling, although you remain alert. Something about this human has your defenses lowered somewhat despite all you’d heard about his species. The males, especially, were prone to violence, killing even. His presence seems conflicting with such an image. Besides, you admitted you were hardly in a position to turn down help: the longer you stayed on land, the more harmful it would be to your health.

“Good girl,” he said, his beautiful blue eyes alight with marvel as he reached toward you with open hands. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Watching your expression remain unchanged, he laughed. “And you have no idea what I’m saying, do you?”

You recognized the words as a question only, and shook your head, earning a pleasant hum in return. He nodded toward the waves a few feet away. “You need help gettin’ back in the water, don’t you?” You nodded vigorously, hair shaking, for once understanding his meaning.

“I can help ya, but I gotta get your permission to lift ya in my arms.” He flashed his hands palm facing you, motioning toward your body and then the water. You understood, although weren’t too pleased about how it would have to happen. You supposed you didn’t have a choice.

“Only if you’ll let me,” he reiterated it was your decision to make.

Sighing, you nodded, and just as he bent to pick you up by your waist, the other hand reaching toward the dip where your tail naturally bent, an approaching figure startled you, causing you to cry out and evade his touch.

The human male by your side turned angry, yelling something at his companion who stood dumbfounded.

“Whaddaya think you’re doin’, scarin’ her like that, Red? Jesus, ain’t ya got any sense in that thick skull o’ yours? She’s clearly already scared and confused. And just when I was gettin’ her to trust me.”

Seeing him angry scared you further, and his temper calmed some, like a balloon deflating. “Aw, hell, doll, didn’t mean to scare you even more. That mean old man ain’t gonna hurt you, I promise. I wouldn’t let ‘im.”

The stranger snorted, walking off. He seemed to be goading your savior now, but he paid them no mind.

Satisfied with the distance, some tension left your prone body. The human smiled, pleased. “All right, let’s try this again. One, two, three-!” He picked you up in one fell swoop, your heart pounding; you’d never experienced this feeling before, this feeling of weightlessness. You felt suddenly inclined to look up and you caught eyes with the human who smiled endearingly back at you.

“Just when I thought you couldn't get any prettier,” he said, and his gaze dipped a little lower to your heaving chest, and your little tummy where a slight roll rested below your bellybutton. Balancing you, his hand came up to briefly run through your hair, petting you like you would the dolphins and seals when you were in the water. “Just gorgeous.”

His companions yelled something at him, and he startled, remembering his duty. “Right, let’s get you back in the water. Poor thing, you’re already dryin’ up out on land.” He tutted, resituating you in his arms and taking fast, long strides towards the ocean.

The sun was starting to set, and it made your water shimmer. Every atom in your body was charged, anticipating the feeling of being submerged once more.

“Gonna set you down, nice n’ easy.” You were a few centimeters from splashing in the shallow end when he suddenly drew back. You swung your head to him, concerned. Had he changed his mind? “I-I just wanted to say this since I’ll probably never see you again,” and he looked suddenly very sad. “I know you don’t understand m-me,” his laugh was less joyous sounding and more teasing, as if of himself. “I just feel since this is of the heart some part o’ you should get my meaning. Well, I just really liked being around you, even if it was only for a minute. You made me feel things I ain’t ever felt with no other woman before. And n-not just cause you’re technically not a woman, but, hell, you get what I mean.”

Your eyes had water building up in them, and you weren’t sure why or what it meant, but with every utterance from this human’s lips it grew stronger. “Aw, don’t cry, darlin’.”

“Maybe... maybe there’s a chance, one day, we’ll see each other again.”

You lifted your hand, to which he watched in awe, and you placed it on his bare chest right where his heart lay. You said something in your language.

Someday, you’d said back; you understood not a single word of his proclamation, but you felt certain of the longing in his eyes. He’d wished to see you, and you wished for it, too.

#elvis #elvis presley #supernatural #sirens #drabble #fanfic #fluffy #protective!elvis

70 notes · View notes

puckpocketed · 1 year ago

Text

2/1/2024 Winter Classic - Seattle Kraken vs Vegas Golden Knights

The Summer I Fell For Hockey - The Perfect Day: On Yanni Gourde and the Narrative

A bank of fog rolls over the new year, over Seattle’s skyline, over the morning of the Winter Classic. T-Mobile park, after weeks of preparation, is transformed; sprouting up from the baseball diamond is a construct of ochre-red wood and glass, freshly frozen paint and ice, and boards that flash with sponsorships. A sea of people all in red, cream, navy and pale blue flood in to fill up the stands, 47,000 strong. There’s the retractable roof for insurance, in case Seattle weather decides to get in character, but for once the air stays dry and sunlight cuts through the fog in time for the match, winking warm and yellow and sweet from behind sparse cloud cover. In the future, today will be remembered as a near-perfect day for outdoor ice hockey. Continents and continents (and a hemisphere) away, the chime of a phone alarm rings out into a damp summer morning. It’s 6:30 am. It’s Kraken game day. I jolt awake.

The Vegas Golden Knights enter the arena dressed collectively as Elvis, shirts split open to the belly button, reflective of their city’s desert-dwelling glitterati. My Kraken come as fishermen, in work boots and hot red overalls, outfits made complete with fluro orange caps and stuffed fish. When it comes time to get onto the rink in their gear, the Kraken are introduced by Sir-Mix-a-Lot in a truly terrible mashup of his hits and ad libbed lines. As they make their way down the faux boardwalk, jets of fire spew forth intermittently, and real fishmongers from Pike Place Market toss fish between the players in an ode to their post-game tradition (the stuffed fish yeet) and the city of Seattle. The anthem is shredded by a 14-year-old local on electric guitar, to the stoic, patriotic acceptance of everyone watching. (Gods but hockey is such an unserious sport, and for this it will have my heart in perpetuity)

The rink is mic'd today, and I’m grateful. I love the sound of hockey; I love the sound of skate blades carving sibilant lines, the way sticks will clack against each other, against the gritty ice; and when the puck hits someone’s tape just right, there’s a now-familiar little zing deep in my reptilian brain that heralds satisfaction. One day, when my city hosts the AIHL (Australian Ice Hockey League), I’ll be right next to the rink and able to hear it all for myself, but for now this will have to suffice.

The Kraken start dominant, winning the first faceoff and instantly initiating a dump-and-chase. Their cheeks are blacked in an effort to stave off ice blindness, but I like to think they’ve donned war paint. In line with this, Tanev starts the festivities by slamming the Golden Knights’ Whitecloud in a brutal check. Today, with the mics hot, every thump and bump gets caught as bodies hit the boards. Neither team is holding back, some mutually agreed upon level of violence dialled up three notches. Unlike the check-heavy games I’ve watched in the past, there is no pall of malicious intent, no thin veneer of civility to cover up simmering anger from the get go. No; today the hits start clean. No penalties are called for first period.

Had it been two weeks ago, I’d have jumped on the opportunity to extol the virtues and skillset of our starting goalie, Joey. Later, the entire arena will shake with cheers of his name. Because I can’t resist, I’ll say this: he’s still unerringly good at trapping the puck to stop play and cause a reset, shuttering any build up of momentum and opportunities for rebounds; still going on his heart-stopping adventures out of the net and catching compliments from the broadcast on his exceptional stick handling; and the puck at times seems magnetised to his glove. Spoilers for the rest of the game: it’s a shutout, and after all those incredible stops I’m sure Jack Eichel will be kicking himself about being read like a book for days. 35 saves (his exact jersey number) and the first shutout in Winter Classic history. The story writes itself. But enough of that — Joey’s low-hanging fruit. And besides, I’ve already put pen to paper on the Dacs propaganda; it all still stands.

The hard checks keep coming. I get the feeling that something’s different today, that there’s something in the air apart from the perfect weather. Despite Vegas’ stellar record against the Kraken to date (8-1-0), the Kraken have a vice grip on the game. I’m so used to watching them chase games to stumbling, clumsy victories that this dominance feels surreal. They kill off the Knights’ attempts at transitioning, relentless in their pursuit and determined to play along the boards, keeping the puck largely out of their offensive zone. When the Knights do manage to drag it in, the Kraken d-men spare no effort viciously batting incoming pucks away from the slot, and should that fail — Joey’s right there to remind them just how good he is. It’s still a simple game, a steady and unembellished grind the way the Kraken like to play — but something about today makes me think that perhaps the elusive, gossamer thing called ‘luck’ is on their side. Perfect days don’t exist, until they do.

My Kraken score their first goal off a stylish deflection. Dunner skips the puck at Tolvy from the blue line, over Amadio’s stick and into traffic. The puck sails past a scrambling Knights defence, where Tolvy finds it midair and smacks it down, right into the back of the Knights’ net. The second goal materialises two minutes into second period, and so does the inciting incident for this essay (blog post/diary entry/unhinged hockey breakdown). After winning the puck off a scuffle along the boards Yanni Gourde legs it, sending it into Vegas’ side of the rink. There’s some back and forth, but ultimately Borgy picks up a goal with a slapshot off the rebound.

Gourdo (or Pumpkin, if the pun appeals) is the quintessential Kraken player. From his career, to his playstyle, to how he’s never come close to stardom — he is, to quote Nick Faris, someone that, “[...]embodies who the Kraken want to be.” He catches my attention today because of his tenacity, and because the liveblog tag goes hard for him as future captain. I’ve come to learn that where esports fans call it the Script, hockey fans use a different phrase. It’s all the same underneath: when everything fits so well, when it all begins to rhyme like poetry, when it’s so compelling that surely someone must’ve made it up — that’s the Narrative.

Gourdo is short for a hockey player, standing at a modest 5ft 9in (175cm). That’s the first thing you’ll hear about him; that he’s at or below league average. The second thing you’ll hear is that he was never drafted. In a league filled with stories of stars — whose fans and media orbit the monsters of the game, a dozen or so point-scoring darlings — here’s Yanni Gourde, the man who was once a season away from giving up the ghost and getting a civil engineering degree, a rookie for the Tampa Bay Lightning at 26. This, too, is Narrative — a different kind I’d say, because when you hear about underdogs you imagine a scrappy, uncut gem finally breaking through to reach the top. Gourdo isn’t some secret prodigy, and the stats he’s put up since he got his chance in the NHL are solid, a career high of 25 goals and 64 points in 82 games during his time with the Lightning, but nothing like your McDavids or MacKinnons. But that’s all just paper. Out on the ice, though? That’s where the real story is happening.

If Sidney Crosby’s story is the Narrative, Gourdo’s story is like if the Narrative was stolen by a side character — which, fittingly, is exactly what some of the best narratives are all about. A quick Youtube search turns up the usual fluff pieces done by team media. A deeper scan reveals an unusual amount of short highlights, largely scrums and fights that he’s been involved with. In one of them he can be seen sporting his big, crooked grin. This is how I find out that Yanni Gourde is a pest. An instigator, a rat. Whatever you call it, Gourde shares hockey lineage with the likes of Brad Marchand.

In ice hockey, games are won and lost off the back of power plays and penalty kills. But with hitting and fighting at an all-time low, how does one draw penalties? Gourdo has it all figured out. He plays his own game, sticking just short of too close and pushing the envelope on interference. He’s gone on record talking about his extracurriculars, how he verbally and physically taunts opposing players after the whistle: “I know most of the time it works them up and they want to punch me in the face a little bit more. If they take a penalty on me, then, I am winning.” Gourdo treads the line of illegality and sportsmanship, and tips people over the edge in his wake, and when they retaliate they’re caught out and sent to the box.

Rats have a bad reputation in the NHL. Honour codes dictate that you back up any insults, physical or otherwise, should another player challenge you to drop gloves — the assumption being that any on-ice beef is genuine — an agitator’s actions are premeditated, calculated to wreak as much havoc as possible. This insincerity leaves a bad taste in the mouths of many. And yet, Yanni Gourde is beloved.

When he was selected by the Kraken in the expansion draft, Lightning fans made tribute videos. When he first returned to Tampa Bay as a visiting player, the arena shook with his fans' welcome. He is universally regarded by teammates, both past and present, as a leader and an overwhelmingly positive force in the locker room; someone who knows how to get silly (krakenblr-core!), who contributes to constructing good attitudes on the ice, someone who has stepped up to fulfil leadership duties when his teammates have been injured.

Beyond his instigation (and his remarkably sparkling reputation in spite of this), most interesting to me is a distinct pattern to the rest of his shot highlights. There’s nothing too complicated about it, even I noticed as a fan who’s still learning: Yanni Gourde has that intangible, ineffable clutch factor. For every clip where he’s in a scuffle, there’s another instance where he’s scored a game winning goal.

My working theory for why? He’s the guy who didn’t give up on his hockey dream even after being snubbed by the NHL and relegated to the AHL, who debuted as a starter 6 years later than most rookies, made himself a nuisance to play against at every turn with his relentless puck chasing and instigating. He’s Gourdo. So of course he’s got the clutch factor; he snatched his entire career from the jaws of retirement in the eleventh hour.

On a day like today, where the weather is perfect and the sticky late game ice has puck bounces going the Kraken’s way, it feels like the right time for something magical. And in a match filled with physicality Gourdo defies expectations, plays his own game and manages a miracle. Early in the third period, the Knights go for an offensive reset on a loose puck in the Kraken slot that goes shooting past the blue line. It looks completely standard. I’ve seen it a hundred times by now.

And then, racing down the ice there’s Gourdo. I expect a check, because that’s the type of game they’ve primed us for. It doesn’t come. Instead, Gourdo slips right up into Cotter’s space, right under his stick. Their skates cross once but there’s no hit, and with the barest brush… the puck is lifted out from under Cotter’s feet.

This blog is named for a silly pun on ‘pickpocketed’, because it was one of the very first hockey concepts that really captured my imagination. I became quietly obsessed with the idea of pickpocketing in ice hockey, fascinated by hulking athletes who know they don’t even need to hit anyone to win. There’s something so delightful about it; the idea that in ice hockey, a game that is notorious for semi-legal fist fights and whose actual rules allow the players to throw their hundreds of pounds at each other in service of victory, you could simply lose the puck to a thief. Whatever you call it — pickpocketing, puck stripping — it’s the result of refs who’ve become increasingly trigger-happy on calls, and a league-wide shift toward protecting its superstars from concussions.

For Gourdo, it’s a matter of necessity. Being smaller than most players, he has few other options. He can’t just rely on checking; he’s part of the new wave of players who’ve bought in on the puck possession game, scrapping and digging to steal the puck away with stick lifts and finesse rather than outright force. (Funnily enough, fellow pest Marchand is named in an article as another player whose game is shifting to focus on puck possession).

In the wider arc of the Narrative, it’s a perfectly Yanni kind of play. He steals the puck away from the Knights right in their slot, and is left almost one on one with their goalie as everyone else on the ice rushes to catch up. It’s not beautiful hockey — there is no well-timed deke, no lethal toe drag release — it’s just Gourdo wrestling control of the puck from the carved up ice, awkward and off-balance. The first shot doesn’t even go in, bouncing off of Thompson’s pad. But Gourdo is right there to catch it off the rebound, never giving up, always holding on, and he scoops it right over and into the net.

I know the game is finished for the Vegas Golden Knights after this. Call me biassed about my Sharks but I’ve seen when a team is still hungry for a win, and the Knights aren’t coming to the table. More than just the number on the scoreboard, in hindsight this goal feels woven into the fabric of the Narrative. It’s gorgeously messy, unexpected. It comes as a surprise to everyone watching, the broadcast barely able to keep up before the puck makes its way to the net. It’s Seattle waking up from a decades-long slumber to remind the world that it’s always been a hockey town, and the Kraken victory a ringing statement. It's another game winning goal for Gourdo, exactly like he’s always done.

It’s not quite perfect hockey, of course, not what people think of as clean or even technically proficient. But if you’ve watched any Kraken broadcasts you know what I’m about to say.

That’s Kraken hockey, baby!

#kraken lb #seattle kraken #winter classic 2024 #hockeyblr #nhl #ice hockey #yanni gourde #krakenblr #my writing #post-game stuff #player stuff #hello kraken lb come get your yanni propaganda #this man is incredible and interesting and we are so so so blessed to have him with us #i hope he's with us for a long time. but he's the kind of player I'd follow to a new team any day #this write up is a lot more polished than I thought it was gonna be (citations and everything!!!) and I'm quite happy with it!!#i'd like to thank the wayback machine for letting me read paywalled articles <3 bless bless bless #I think it's gonna be my fate to become an amateur scholar on these players' histories whenever i do propaganda #does this count as a primer even though it's like... also a post-game thing?#oh well. here it is and please enjoy!!!!

25 notes · View notes