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bartxnhood · 5 months ago

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escort at the oscars | a.b

austin butler x fem!actress!reader

summary: getting lost at the oscar’s wasn’t on your roster. neither was getting austin butlers attention.

warnings: definitely poor representation of the oscars but idc this is just for funsies !

w/c: 3.1k

a/n: omg hi everyone !!! long time no see i know, life has been insane. i know no one will read this but ive had some HUGE life changes. i graduated cosmetology school, officially a nail tech now, yay me !! also, unfortunately, ill be having a hand surgery soon. so, im hoping i can write more before i can’t 😭. thank you to everyone who still supports me even though im not ac active as i used to be. one day i promise ill update regularly !!

a/n2: also, austin in the new bikeriders movie had me in a chokehold. the austin butler renaissance is upon us, people !!! (he’s also my bday twin WOO) and i know austin didn’t win an oscar for elvis but for the sake of the fic he did in this !!

not proofread

requests open

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since the red carpets were only carpets, you could have sworn they were easy to manage. the theater was only accessible by walking through a line, but that wasn't the case. after only thirty minutes, you had to make a big mistake by trying to use the restroom and ending up opening a broom closet.

“hey,” you heard a voice, and you quickly turned around only to find yourself facing austin. “the ceremony isn’t in the closet, darling.”

“right..” you whisper under your breath and close the door. you smile awkwardly turning on your heels and holding your clutch tightly.

“i was just uh..looking for the restroom but i couldn’t find it” you laugh, looking down and shaking your head, and begin walking away from the boom closet.

austin couldn’t help but chuckle, following behind you while holding his hand behind his back as he walked slowly for you to match his stride.

he could tell that you were an up-and-coming actress, something about the way you carried yourself gave it away, and he could also tell that this was your first time on a red carpet by the way you were clutching your clutch bag so firmly like your life depended on it.

“you look nervous,” he said softly, “it’s your first time on a red carpet, isn’t it?”

you smile sheepishly. “that obvious, huh?” you trail behind austin assuming he is taking you to the restrooms.

“never knew how big these places are” you laugh, holding up the end of your dress so it doesn’t drag.

austin could see how nervous you were by the way you were holding your dress up while you were walking, and he thought that it was adorable, honestly.

he chuckled as you mentioned how big the venue is because you weren’t wrong, it is pretty damn big. “ive been to a few oscars now and i still think the venue is too big,” he said with a laugh, as he walked by your side with that perfect movie star strut.

“which movie are you nominated for?”

you had never been to something like this, and you didn’t even have a premiere for your movie. but somehow, critics loved the movie and now your movie was nominated.

it felt like it happened overnight.

“blue moon” you answer, not expecting him to know it.

the movie was set in the second world war and your character was the spouse of one of the soldiers. after he died, your character joined the war.

it was an underground film, your first lead and you didn’t expect anyone to pick up the movie. but someone did, ended up being shown at a film festival and the critics fell in love with your performance. and that’s how you landed a nomination for best lead actress.

austin’s eyes widened as you mentioned the movie you’re up for, blue moon; he enjoyed that movie, and as he thought about it more he really couldn’t deny that you were fantastic in it.

“no way,” he said in disbelief, “no wonder you’re nominated for best actress, you were incredible in that film.”

“thank you” you nod, noticing you have finally made it to the restrooms.

“and thank you for showing me the way” you chuckle, dropping the train of your dress then stuffing your clutch under your arm and sticking out your hand.

austin takes your hand with a gentle yet firm grip and smiles, nodding. “no problem, glad i could be of help.”

“i’m y/n l/n” you introduced. “it was nice to meet you, austin. thanks for this” you grin, retracting your hand.

“i guess ill catch you later..”

“it was a pleasure to meet you, y/n,” he replied with a smile before watching you walk into the restroom, and he couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the door as you disappeared behind it.

he thought you were pretty. very pretty, and he kind of regretted not asking you for your phone number before you disappeared.

so, austin stood there leaning against the wall deciding he would wait on you. just in case you got lost again.

no other reason.

after relieving yourself, you stand in front of the mirror taking in a couple of deep breaths to calm the pounding in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

you open your clutch, picking out a compact and a lipstick. you swipe the color on your lips to touch up the splotches, and quickly powder your face.

you put everything back in your clutch smoothed out your hair and admired your dress.

floor-length satin gown in your favorite color, a ribbed corset look.

“you can do this, y/n/n..” you whisper to yourself then pick up the train of your dress and exit the restroom, hoping you won’t miss the award ceremony.

austin was now pacing in front of the restroom, waiting for you to exit, his eyes fixated on the door, and he found himself running a hand through his styled hair, ruining the gelled look.

he wasn’t sure what had compelled him to wait for you, but here he was, still waiting outside the restroom, tapping his foot anxiously and checking his watch now and then.

austin leaned back against the wall as he waited, trying to look nonchalant as ever, and once the restroom door opened, a soft exhale left his lips.

you let the door shut behind you while smoothing out the front of your dress and began walking down the hallway until you stopped seeing a figure.

you look up from the floor and spot austin, assuming he is waiting for you.

“austin?” you ask softly, taking in a deep breath.

austin’s eyes softened at the sound of his name, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you once he saw you walking towards him, smoothing out the front of your dress and making sure it was wrinkle-free and free of any stains.

“hey,” he replied with a smile and nod, “i was just, uh, making sure you didn’t get lost, again.” austin laughed, looking at you through his eyebrows.

you couldn’t help but chuckle, “no worries, restrooms are pretty simple,” you reply with a toothy grin.

“but, if you wouldn’t mind showing me the way to the theater?” you ask, knowing if you didn’t have the guidance you’d definitely get lost and miss the entire ceremony.

and you didn’t need that kind of embarrassment.

though, deep down you know you wouldn’t win tonight, but still, you wanted to experience being at the freaking oscars!

austin smiled at how eager you were to not get lost again. he chuckled softly as you asked him to guide you to the theater, and he pushed himself off the wall, taking one last look at his watch before walking closer to you.

“and here i was, thinking you’d never ask,” he joked, before holding out his arm for you to grab and wrap your own around.

“don’t wanna risk you ending up in the broom closet again,” he teased.

you drop your head, smiling, and then laugh at his comment about getting lost in the broom closet.

“listen..” you say softly, covering your face with the clutch. “i would say it was one mistake, but with my luck, it’s bound to happen again.”

you carefully take his arm and begin walking towards the theater. you can feel your cheeks warming up.

here you are, lost at the oscar’s and now having the austin butler escort you into the theater.

when you attempted to cover your face with your clutch, he rolled his eyes and gently grabbed it, pulling it away from your face. “no hiding.” he teased.

as you walked side by side, down the halls and towards the theater, austin couldn’t help himself but glance over at you now and then.

he smiled when you laughed at his joke and chuckled even more as you attempted to defend yourself. “just one? you’re sure about that?”

you smile, looking ahead. not being able to look him in the eyes. “no..” you laugh.

“on my first day of filming, i got lost and accidentally locked myself in the hair and makeup trailer” you giggle, recalling one of the most embarrassing moments that’s happened to you. though, this one trumps that.

“no way..” you hear austin laugh wholeheartedly, a sound so beautiful it could turn your legs into jelly.

“yes way” you laugh back, nodding. you weren’t paying attention and almost tripped over the end of your dress.

“here, let me help you with that” austin offers, picking up the train of your dress so you can walk more comfortably.

“see? clumsy.”

austin grins, holding the satin fabric in his hands as you continue towards the theater. “we all have our quirks” he adds. “you’ll warm up to this life, it’ll become easier and if it doesn’t, i’ll help you navigate this journey.” austin spoke without really thinking.

you finally see the two large golden doors which lead into the theater. “ready?” austin grins, raising his eyebrows before opening the door.

when the door opens you’re hit with a soft wind of cool air, the sound of people chattering, and the camera crew getting ready to go live.

“well, let’s hope i can find my seat with ease..” you say walking down the aisle with him towards the seconds for the nominees. “i’ll help,” austin says and begins scanning the row of seats for your name.

y/n l/n

“here you are.” he points to your name plastered on the back of the seat. “right next to mine” he leads you to the two end aisle seats on the front row. your crew sat behind you and austin’s was right next to him.

you were shocked, walking to your seat and letting go of his arm. austin drops the end of your dress gracefully, making sure it doesn’t get dirty.

“what a coincidence, huh?” you take your seat, crossing your legs and placing your clutch in your lap.

austin had what you’d call a shit-eating grin on his face as he sat next to you. “coincidence? or the universe giving us a sign?”

he could tell you were feeling out of place, but he silently tried to make you feel more comfortable by flashing you a reassuring smile.

you shrug, smiling as the staff prepares to go on air. you take in a deep breath, calming your racing heart as you watch the host enter the stage.

“good luck tonight.” austin leans in, whispering. you turn to face him, “you too”. austin winks and then focuses his attention on the stage as the lights dim.

you follow suit, the ceremony officially begins.

a short video montage of all the movies nominated begins to play, and for a second you see yourself.

wow.

after the video, the lights come back on, and out steps the host.

“hello, and welcome to the ninety-sixth oscars, everyone! look at these beautiful faces!”

the room explodes into applause and cheers from the guests.

there’s more to the introduction, bad jokes, awkward laughter, and overall a very, very, long introduction before getting into the awards.

tonight was going to be very long.

“and the nominees for the best lead actor” the host announces, letting a brief video play of all the nominees and their movies.

some actors you knew well, others you didn’t.

“and the oscar goes to..” the host drawls, opening the envelope and a smile appears on her face.

“austin butler!”

the crowd erupts into a roar of cheers and applause, people standing up all around, yourself included. austin stands up hugging his team around him and his friends. he turns to you, smiling as if he won the lottery. “congrats!” you pat his shoulder as he walks past you on stage to accept the award.

“wow..” his deep voice rang through the microphone, looking at the audience and fellow nominees. “i’d uh..wow..all my words are leaving me…i’m standing in front of my heroes. i’m so incredibly grateful to be standing here, i just wanted to say thank you to my team, all the producers, writers, directors, costume, and makeup. everyone. and the presley family for guiding me through this whole process. thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart. and lastly, thank you to all the new people i’ve met” he looks towards you. “i’m so grateful to be standing here. thank you.” he blows a kiss to the crowd before disappearing backstage.

the rest of the male categories went on in between intermissions. many of your favorite actors won, and movies.

then, before you knew it, the female categories were beginning. you saw austin returning to his seat before the nominees were announced.

“now, let’s take a look at the nominees for best female lead role…” the host begins.

like the male category, there are videos of each nominee and then you’re face pops up in a small montage of your movie with your name announced.

austin looked over at you when your face appeared on the big screen, he saw that look in your eyes. he couldn’t describe it. awe? no, it was something more than that. something he had never seen from any of the people he worked with. he had been to many events like this, but you…something about you.

“and the oscar for best female lead role goes too..”

anticipation.

so many great and talented women in this category, that you feel honored to even be considered as good as them.

what if you didn’t win?

but what if you did win? you didn’t even think you prepare an acceptance speech because there is absolutely no way someone like you could-

“y/n l/n! congratulations!”

the world stopped, people around you standing up and applauding. you.

you sat there, mouth agape staring at the stage with your face on the screens like an idiot. your crew grabbing your shoulders to congratulate you as you stand up. hugging some of your crew, then looking at austin wide-eyed. he’s smiling at you, saying something like “i knew you’d win” but you couldn’t be sure, you were in shock.

you begin towards the stage, austin trailing behind you holding your dress so you won’t trip. if there’s one thing austin learned about you tonight, you were clumsy.

you look back, thanking austin with your eyes approach the host, and accept the award.

“oh man..” you begin, feeling tears prickling your eyes. a quiet laugh escapes your throat, looking down at the golden award and then back to the crowd. “i didn’t have a speech prepared, i didn’t expect to win at all. but i wanted to thank everyone who worked on the set of this movie. thank you to the director who saw my indie films and thought i had the talent to portray my character. thank you to my team who always supported me. thank you to my family who always believed in me..who pushed me to work harder..” you sniffle, lip quivering.

“thank you. thank you so much.” you cry. “and thank you to austin, who helped me when i got lost, otherwise i would’ve missed the best moment in my life”. you look towards austin, your teary eyes glittering underneath the lights. the crowd laughs at this, finding it humorous.

austin smiled as he listened to your heartfelt acceptance speech. he couldn’t help but feel proud of you, watching the way you held the award in your hands and thanked everyone who had helped you along the way.

his heart skipped a beat when you mentioned him in your speech. he chuckled softly as the crowd laughed when you joked about getting lost, and he felt a warmth spread through him as he heard you express your gratitude towards him.

“and to all my fellow nominees, i can’t believe im standing in front of you. i’m so honored to be here with you tonight. and i realize i am rambling so i will accept this and go” you laugh, waving to your crew and exiting the stage.

as you walked off the stage, austin stood up and applauded once again, clapping louder than ever before.

the rest of the night continued without fail, the whole thing continued for about three and a half hours. you knew it was going to be long, but you don’t think you’d ever get used to it.

the ceremony ended, leading you and the other winners backstage to get pictures and interviews.

you stand with your friends, who also are a part of your crew. you’re still absolutely shocked. crying on and off as they congratulate you on one of the biggest achievements of your career.

you weren’t aware of austin approaching you until you felt a hand on your lower back. you look over your shoulder and see his baby blues. “austin!” you grin, turning your body toward him. “hi, darling. congratulations.” he says, gesturing to the award in your hand.

“thank you” you bring the award up to your face, grinning like a proud parent. “and congrats to you”

austin nods, looking down at his award. “looks like we both got pretty lucky, huh?”

you nod, agreeing. “i guess so..” you say softly.

you see austin’s eyebrow raise, his eyes dancing over your figure against the wall. you couldn’t quite place what he was thinking. he could be thinking many things, but you wouldn’t know. he was too hard to read, for you at least.

“say, uh..” he smirks, biting his lip. “how would you feel if i asked for your number?” his extra arm came up to the wall beside your head, entrapping you.

oh boy.

you hold the award close to your chest, looking up at him. “well, i’d feel like i’d be dreaming but im not going to say no.” you answer.

“good because i don’t know what id do if you said no” he chuckles, his eyes not leaving yours.

“i’ll call you, we’ll go out sometime. i wanna know more of you. if it’s anything like i saw tonight, i think i might fall in love with you.”

you can feel your ears burning as he speaks, his raspy voice making your legs feel weak. his eyes looking down on you, god. he was driving you insane. his slightly gelled hair, his grey suit, his cologne.

he was so close.

“then i guess you should be ready for that,” you say, smirking.

you heard your name being called, your manager trying to get you for an interview.

you push yourself off the wall, but before you leave you pause. “call me.” you wink and then walk away, leaving austin’s world rocked. never had he met someone like you, never has he been this intrigued and captivated by someone.

thank god he found you when he did.

#bartxnhood asks #bartxnhood writes #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fan fiction #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #elvis presley x reader

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vampiricgf · 3 months ago

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Morning Elvis

leon kennedy x reader

wc: 2k

warnings: pre established relationship, depiction of alcoholism, mention of sex but no smut, honestly just two idiots that don't know how to really talk to each other if they're not fucking so he gets spooked and runs away the second there's any real intimacy or care, set roughly before he's in colorado in vendetta

one) I know he eats ass so to me the joke lands and two) the title is the florence and the machine song morning elvis ‹𝟹

On nights when he’s dreading his own company Leon calls you. With how frequently those nights are becoming, you’re starting to think he should just give you a spare key to his place.

And even if you promise yourself day in and day out that you won’t pick up the phone this time, won’t come running like a loyal dog because it always ends the same, you find yourself speaking the same words as usual each time. Sure, I’ll be over.

It’s a strange sort of limbo knowing you’re caught up in a man that will never be able to commit to you.

But still, you’re as stubborn as ever. Standing outside his door shivering in the evening cold, peering uselessly into the darkened window. It’s not late enough for him to have forgotten you were coming and ended up sprawled in bed, but depending on how much he’s already had to drink the time may not matter. That makes you feel sleezy too, the fact that he almost exclusively calls you when he’s already had a few.

Now that you think of it, you could count on one hand the number of conversations you’ve had when he’s sober.

“Fuck, come on. Please don’t be asleep.” You whisper to yourself as you bring your knuckles to meet the solid oak door again, three sharp knocks.

It’s then that you hear heavy footsteps, uncoordinated as he clearly stumbles to get the door, unlatching it just a crack to peer down at you with bloodshot eyes. How strange it’s a perfect shade of red to offset the cerulean of his eyes. If only reddened eyes weren’t a universal sign of something bad occurring in the body, they’d be pretty otherwise.

“Did you speed the whole way or something?” He asks as he unlatches the chain, fully swinging the door open and allowing you to step past him.

As your eyes adjust and you step further inside you feel nearly overwhelmed with pity. The place is a mess, and while thats not unusual what is strange is the fact that he’s left so much evidence of his overconsumption laying around. Empty fifths, their labels peeling, and even a smattering of the little shooters you can buy at gas stations for a dollar litter the countertops of his kitchen, a scant few dishes languishing in a steel basin graveyard.

Under normal circumstances you’d classify Leon as a functioning alcoholic. Not a good label, but at least he could still do his job and keep his head on straight no matter how full of whiskey said head might be. But this? This was the apartment of a nonfunctional alcoholic, no dancing around it.

“Have you eaten anything?” You ask suddenly, turning around to face him as he leans against the countertop like he’ll collapse without the support. For a split second you’re afraid he might.

“Why’d you care?” His eyes are unfocused but don’t stray from you and you take it as a good sign, he’s not completely trashed.

“Because you look like shit.” You say it plainly, but the words are sharp regardless.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t give you what you came for.”

“Who says thats all I come for?” Your voice drops off and you turn away from him, feeling suddenly sick. Sick with yourself for doing this again, sick that you’ve done it already so many times.

He laughs and it’s a harsh sound, makes you flinch a little and shrink into yourself feeling even more foolish. “Oh because you’re here for good conversation and tea or some shit like that, right?”

You glare at him over your shoulder before walking back towards the door.

Fuck this, I’m not being a drunken slam piece anymore-

“Oh come on, you can’t handle a little teasing all of a sudden? Not like you haven’t taken worse.”

You sprin on your heel, sudden surge of anger squeezing you so tightly it nearly leaves you breathless. “You know what? You’re a drunk that needs to get your shit together, not your dick wet. Why don’t you use your furlough for something more productive than drowning in Jack and calling girls you don’t give a fuck about.” Your voice shakes as your pitch rises, hands clenched so hard it’s nothing short of a miracle your nails don’t break off in your palms.

You wish you could punch him. Not enough to hurt him or because thats really what you want but because punctuating your words in the language he understands best might be the only way to reach him. The only sound in the place is your own ragged breathing, like you sprinted the whole way here, but before you can make a move to leave once more he pushes away from the countertop and does something that catches you off guard.

His arms come around you and the smell of sweat and alcohol wind around your body, invade your senses, seconds after. But it doesn’t matter because your bag falls to the floor with a heavy thump and your own arms wrap around him as he hides his face against the side of your neck.

You stay like that for a while, in that strange, tense embrace, before his muffled voice fans warmly over your skin.

“Who says I don’t give a fuck about you?”

You sigh. “Honestly, you do Leon. All of this just says you don’t give a fuck about anything, not even yourself.”

That and I’m not delusional enough to think you really like me. I’m convenient.

Silence descends once again and for a moment you’re worried you overestimated his coherence, that he may be about to black out in your arms, but before that thought takes hold he steps back from you, and the sudden absence of his warmth makes you shiver as if you stepped into a walk in freezer.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” And it sounds like the words both are and are not meant for you because he doesn’t meet your gaze, raking a hand through his hair before grabbing for one of the bottles in his impromptu menagerie, a quarter full of something clear. Before he can unscrew the cap you liberate it from his grasp, clutching the neck of it like a weapon.

“Maybe I am. So why don’t you stop for the night, at least. Clean yourself up a little, sleep for once. You look like you haven’t slept in days.” You suspected he might not have, truthfully.

He eyes you with something you can’t place and you aren’t sure you want to at this moment. Something between bitterness and relief, but before you can examine it with any depth he turns his back to you, moving to the hall bathroom. You think of the silly little cat nightlight you jammed into the outlet inside the small space one night, tired of always slamming your knee or your toes off the doorframe in the pitch black. The faint glow tells you it’s still there, faithfully illuminating the dark.

The running of a tap is all you get in response and your eyes run over the kitchen again, fresh dismay setting in at the sheer quantity he’s been indulging in. As quietly as possible you start gathering the loose bottle up, a wide variety of sizes and flavors but your nose scrunches as you size up a still mostly full bottle of Everclear. You shiver just imagining the scent of it, stinging like a nose full of isopropyl with the aftertaste of straight kerosene.

That one you decide to pour down the drain, cringing as your memory of the smell of it is proven accurate.

“You owe me ten bucks for that.”

His voice comes from behind you and you huff out a slight laugh, rolling your eyes as you face his direction and make your way to the garbage can. “I’ll leave it on the counter.”

“I’m sorry, by the way,” His blue eyes find yours as you straighten up from the can, and your own scan his face before answering.

“Don’t be. Just… take better care of yourself.”

Just don’t call me again, because I’m not the one strong enough, or selfish enough, to ignore it.

His hand rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck and he looks nervous, a rare sight and it’s oddly cute for a second. “It’s getting late, you can stay here- if you want to, I mean.”

You smile softly, wistful, because you know exactly what time it is and that you could drive back home just fine and get enough sleep. Know that you should. “Yeah, sure. I can take the couch if you have a spare blanket.”

“You can sleep with me, my tongue has literally been in your ass before.” He rolls his eyes at you and you gape, feeling giddy embarrassment bubble up in your chest like you swallowed something overly carbonated and you giggle before you can stop yourself.

“Fair enough, I guess.” You shake your head but follow after him towards the bedroom, feeling an out of place anxiety tugging at the corners of your mind. You’ve never just slept together, sex has always taken priority before.

Despite that, settling in beside him doesn’t feel uncomfortable, if anything you’re surprised by the exhaustion creeping up behind your eyes, making your limbs feel heavier with each passing second. Your eyes are closed but you feel him staring at you, laying on his side to face you in a mirrored position.

“I always think one of these days you’re not going to pick up.”

His words are so quiet you could almost convince yourself they were from the beginnings of a dream. Almost.

“I always pick up. For you.” You’re not sure why the words sound so mournful.

“You shouldn’t. You don’t deserve getting bitched at by a guy that can’t spend more than five minutes sober.”

“And you don’t deserve to be alone.”

You hear his breathing hitch at your words but you still don’t open your eyes, as if the action would shatter the quiet moment between you two.

“We- we shouldn’t do this again.” And that makes your eyes flutter open, blearily taking him in, the out of place vulnerability on his face and the sheer fatigue expressed plainly on his features. You wish you could reach out, cradle his face, run your fingers over him, commit him to memory.

“No, we probably shouldn’t.”

If I’m getting what I want, why do I feel like crying?

When rays of sunlight break through the blinds to assault your eyes you recognize that you’re alone before you’re even fully conscious. The apartment is as quiet as a mausoleum, still, stale air filling up your lungs as you rise from the pillows, shoulders cracking.

You don’t call out, quietly standing from the rumpled bed before padding out towards the kitchen, peeking into the bathroom just to make sure but only the sight of the empty room greets you. The kitchen is much the same, a few stray bottles remain but it seems you cleared the bulk of them last night. In the living room you find a note on the coffee table, a silver key glinting in the hazy dimness on top of it.

It’s a short goodbye. He left you the key so you could lock the front door before you went back to your place, he’ll get it from you when he can. Something about trying to take your advice, maybe Colorado will be better suited for getting himself together.

You set the note back down, rubbing your thumb over the face of the apartment key.

As you pull your bag up off the floor you make a mental note to keep flights out west bookmarked for the time being.

Because after all, you always answer if he calls.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy angst #resident evil angst #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy x reader

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atleastpleasetelephone · 11 days ago

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Kinktober Day 31 - Aftercare

A/N: Finally, the last day. I'm not sure I could really say I enjoyed doing this, but it's over now.

Pairing: Elvis x reader

Word count: 741

TWs: Choking, slapping, name-calling, cumming on face... and then the worst trigger of all - BABY TALK.

Kinktober masterlist

His fingers curl around your throat as he feels you getting closer to orgasm, thrusting harder and faster, losing himself as he chases his own high too.

“Take it, ya dirty little slut.”

The words and the pressure of his fingers on your windpipe push you over the edge into oblivion and you're clenching around him as he carries on verbally abusing you, slapping your face and telling you how dirty you are and how he's going to cum all over you. You moan pornographically and he pulls out, stroking himself a couple of times before moving so he cums on your face and in your open mouth. He falls down beside you, panting.

Your whole body tingles as you start to come round from your orgasm, lying there feeling warm and contented.

He closes his eyes, feeling the rush of endorphins too. Fuck. He loves having you like this, so rough and animalistic. Though it always makes him feel a little guilty afterwards, no matter how many times you tell him you love it too. As he starts to feel like he's coming round again he sits up slowly and then pads over to the bathroom to find a washcloth.

“Sorry, baby. Made a real mess,” he says, sweetly, wiping your face.

You smile. “S'ok El.”

Tossing the cloth onto the floor, he pulls you into his arms.

“You're so beautiful, baby.” Kissing your neck. “Like an angel. Can't believe I got so lucky with ya.”

You giggle, bashful. “Don't be silly. I'm lucky.”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head and pulls your chin up so he can look into your eyes. “You're just perfect. My perfect little angel. God, you're so precious.”

You keep giggling. It's hard not to be embarrassed when he says this kind of thing, but you know why he's doing it. Whenever he's rough with you, afterwards he's so gentle and caring. Like he's telling you that he doesn't really mean it when he calls you a slut or pulls your hair.

“It's okay, El. Really. I had fun.”

He pulls you in somehow closer and nuzzles your neck.

“I love everything about ya, baby. From this pretty little head down to your cute little sooties.”

He starts to kiss you then, starting at your temple and finishing at your big toe. You wriggle and laugh and look at him with big brown eyes full of love.

Okay, so maybe you enjoy this a little more than you're willing to admit.

Looking up at you through his lashes he moves back up your body again, smothering you with feather-light kisses.

“Mmmm. I love it when you do that,” you tell him. “My pookie bear.” Your fingers in his hair, a grin on your face.

He puts his arms back around you, cuddling you close again.

“He yoves her,” he murmurs, his nose pressed against yours.

“She yoves him too,” you coo back.

He gets like this when he's done with any kind of love-making, but he's especially cute when he's been rough with you.

“Promise?” He asks, pouting.

“Promise. She yoves him forever.”

He growls and buries his head in the crook of your neck.

“He yoves her forever.”

You giggle and grab hold of him tightly. “She yoves him more!”

“No!” He's like a little child now, cuddling you and squeezing you and desperate to be as close to you as he can get. “Not possible!”

You both giggle then, like a pair of kids, rolling around in the bed arguing over who loves the other more. Eventually, breathless, you land with your head on his chest as he sprawls on his back.

“She never leave him?” He whispers into your hair.

“Never,” you reply, firmly. “Never, never, never.”

He always asks you this. Always worried you'll leave like his mama did, paranoid and afraid that all women will leave him in the end. But you mean it. And looking at him lying there in the bed now you can't imagine how you ever could. How anyone could.

He kisses your hair. “He never leave her either.”

You close your eyes, sighing contentedly, and feel yourself drift off to sleep. He sighs too. It's nights like this when he feels that bit less lonely, like maybe he can fall asleep without chemical assistance for a change.

Never, never, never. He always asks and that's always what you say. Maybe he’s just starting to believe you.

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis presely smut #elvis imagine #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis x reader #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #kinktober #starsandskieskinktober

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sissylittlefeather · 1 month ago

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Kinktober Day 23: Hair Pulling

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Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, cussing, kissing, facesitting, oral sex, light bondage, light dom/sub dynamics, angry sex, jealousy, I promise it ends up good!

Word Count: ~2k

Kinktober Masterlist

You look in the mirror and take off your heavy earrings as Elvis begins to undress behind you, starting with his black jacket, belt, and blue scarf.

“You seemed to really enjoy the show tonight.” The words drip from you like honey, but he knows that tone.

“Yeah, Nancy's been a friend for a long time.”

“Mmm. A friend.” You look at him in the reflection and you can see his eyes flash with something.

“Yes.” He's aware that you don't believe him. You've been married long enough for him to know when you're in one of these moods.

“I see. How many times have you fucked her?” You look his reflection dead in the eye and he holds back an exasperated sigh.

“Never, baby.” He walks up behind you as you sit at the vanity and leans down, kissing your shoulder gently. “You know you're the only girl for me, Satnin.”

“Right. Just like you never fucked Ann Margret.” He leans his forehead against your skin and sighs. Of course you would bring her up tonight.

“Honey, that was a long time ago. I've apologized enough.” You spin your chair around and stand up. With your platform heels on, it's not hard to be almost eye-level with him.

“Have you? I don't remember an apology for Nancy.”

“Because it's not necessary!” You put your hand on his chest and push him backwards. “Honey, please!”

“Sure looked like you owe me something. The way you watched her and kissed her after the show.” You keep pushing him backwards until he falls onto the bed, sitting on the edge of it. He grabs your hips and looks up at you, blue eyes pleading.

“Honey, I swear. There's never been anything between me and Nancy.”

“Mhmm. But I think you wouldn't mind it if there was. I think you need to remember who you belong to.” He shakes his head vehemently. If he'd known you would react this way, he never would've taken you to Nancy Sinatra’s show. Still, he can't deny that there had been a mild flirtation between them during the filming of Speedway. But it was never enough to warrant this response from you.

“Baby… please…” You're tired of the lies. Tired of him apologizing for finding other women attractive. Tired of forgiving him so easily over and over again. You untie the dress behind your neck and let it slide down off of your body, landing in a pool of shimmery fabric at your feet. He groans and looks at you, knowing that he can't touch you as you stand there in nothing but panties and heels. You put your knee on the bed between his legs and push it up into his groin, putting pressure on his balls. He inhales sharply, his cock twitching with the prospect of being put in his place.

“Tell me again that you don't think she's pretty.”

“I didn't say that.” He bites his bottom lip. That was too honest.

“Oh, so you do think she's pretty?” More pressure on his balls and he gasps, his eyes rolling back a bit.

“Not as pretty as you. You know you're the only one I want.” You snort out a laugh and pull back, sliding your panties down and off.

“I'm sure.”

“Honey, you're my wife.” There was a time when that didn't mean as much to him, but in the last couple years he's really tried to stay true to you. He's trying to grow up, wants to start a family and settle down, and you're the only woman he'd ever consider that with.

“Lay down.” He scoots back and obeys, laying down on the bed in just his slacks as you pull his shoes off, kick off your own and climb on top of him. You hold his hands over his head and lean down, kissing him deeply, your tongue exploring his mouth. He bucks his hips, craving contact as your tongues tangle together. His scarf lays next to you on the bed and you consider tying his hands together with it. He has been better about being faithful recently, but there's a part of you that still doesn't believe it.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You, doll! I'm tellin’ you, you're the only one I want.” This isn't the first time you've been like this and sometimes he really enjoys it, but he's getting a little tired of defending himself all the time.

“Prove it.” You climb up his body and onto his face, one knee on either side of his head. When you press your pussy to his mouth, he groans and starts licking you fervently. Finally, you let go of his hands and he grabs your thighs, his tongue pressing into your slit and then settling on the bundle of nerves above it. He mumbles into you and you grind against him harder. “I don't want to hear your shitty excuses. If you want me, show me.”

He licks you with every ounce of his energy, trying desperately to prove that you're the only woman he wants. His tongue swipes and circles and he does everything he can to make you cum as fast as possible. You feel your climax start to gather in your hips and grab his hair, pulling him into you. He grunts and whimpers as it gets harder for him to breathe, but you don't let go of his hair. Instead, you ride his face with even more intensity as your orgasm closes in on you. When you do finally cum, you moan loudly and pulse on his tongue, the waves of pleasure crashing and breaking over you as you hold his hair. After you come back down, you back up a bit and he gasps for air.

“Now… do you believe me?” He asks breathlessly. You sit on his chest, panting and shake your head. He holds your hips with both hands and sighs deeply. “Honey…”

“I'm sick of this, Elvis.”

“Goddamnit, baby, so am I!” He pushes you down to his waist and tries to sit up. You shove him back down against the bed.

“No. I'm not finished with you yet.”

“Baby, this is-” You bring your hand up to slap him across the face and he catches your wrist. “Oh, hell no, honey.”

“I'm just-” He sits straight up and you fall backwards a bit, but he grabs you, still holding your wrist.

“You listen to me now, little girl, and you listen good.” He flips over on top of you and pins both your arms above your head. “I might belong to you, but you belong to me too. And I'm tired of this.”

He leans forward and pulls your nipple into his mouth, biting it a little less than gently. You yelp a bit and start to squirm, but you feel yourself get wetter as he begins to take over.

“You're gonna let me show you that you're the only one I want.” He snatches the scarf from the bed and ties your hands together and to the bedpost.

“Elvis!”

“No, honey. We're done with you thinkin’ you can talk to me like you did.” He's only gotten like this with you a few times before and you'd be lying if you said you didn't love it. His dominance is sexy and honestly it makes you feel small and feminine and you wish he'd do it a bit more often. You whimper as he stands up next to the bed and drops his pants, his cock bouncing before he grabs it and strokes it a few times. “Open your legs.”

You do exactly as you're told and he runs a finger up your pussy.

“Good. You're nice and wet for daddy to fuck you. Is that what you want? For me to show you that you're mine?” You nod and whimper despite yourself.

“Yes, daddy.” You whisper.

“Louder.” He lines himself up with your dripping entrance.

“Yes, daddy!” You moan as he teases your clit with the head of his dick, your hands pulling against the scarf and your hips wiggling to try to feel more of him against you. He grabs your face roughly.

“Whose are you?” His voice is low and heavy.

“Y-yours, daddy.”

“That's right.” He slams his cock up into you in one thrust and grunts as you moan. He pulls back and kisses you on the mouth, his tongue delving into yours. Then, he backs up a bit and looks into your eyes. “Who do I want?”

“M-me?” He slams into you again.

“Not a question. Who do I want? Tell me, princess.”

“Me!” You moan loudly as he begins to pump into you steadily. He holds one hip with his hand as he thrusts into you deeper and deeper.

“Yes, baby. I want you and only you. You understand?” You mumble incoherently, the pleasure starting to overwhelm you. He grabs the back of your hair and makes you look at him. “I asked if you understand.”

“Yes, daddy!” You whimper as he pulls out, untying your hands. But he isn't finished. He uses your legs to roll you onto your stomach and then lines himself up again.

“Gonna fuck you this way, honey. Put a baby in you and make you see that I want you and no one else.”

“Yes p-please.” He slams into you again, this time from behind and then grabs your hair again, pulling your head to the side so he can see your face.

“You like this, princess? When I fuck you like this?” He whispers in your ear as he ruts into you from behind. It hurts, but in the best way possible and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. He gives your hair another strong yank. “Don't hold back. Let daddy hear you.”

“Yes! Fuck! I like it like this!” His rhythm gets more erratic as his orgasm begins to build.

“That's right you do. You're mine. Take my cock like a good little princess.”

“Yes, daddy…” You moan loudly as another climax crashes into you, rattling your body with ecstasy.

“Good girl. Cum on my dick, baby. This cock is just for you.” You bite the pillow and groan as he holds your hair and fucks into you so hard it feels like you might scream. He grunts and shudders as your pussy squeezes him, his own release so close he can feel it. “Daddy’s gonna fill you up, princess. Make you know you're mine. You want it?”

“God. Fuck. Yes!”

“Good!” He moans loudly as he rams into you one last time, his warmth spilling out of him as he cums hard into you.

After a few seconds, he lets go of your hair and relaxes, kissing your shoulder gently. He rolls over next to you on the bed and pulls your trembling body into his arms.

“You alright, honey?” He kisses your forehead and holds you close, stroking your arm softly.

“Yeah… that was…”

“Did I go too far?” His eyebrows knit together with concern.

“Absolutely not!” You feel him relax as he holds you against him.

“I just… I need you to believe me. I love you and no one else. I want you.” You look up at him and search his face for signs that he's lying, but you can tell that he's not.

“I believe you.” He smiles and kisses your forehead again.

“Good. No more of that nonsense, okay?”

“Okay. Can I still sit on your face sometimes?”

“Baby, I'd hate it if you didn't.” You smile a little sheepishly and play with his chest hair.

“Will you throw me around more like that?” He chuckles.

“Thought you didn't like that?” You shrug and then look up at him.

“Guess I like knowing who I belong to.” He smiles down at you.

“In that case, I'm happy to manhandle you whenever you want.” He pulls your fingertips to his lips and kisses them softly. “I'm yours, baby. All yours for as long as you'll have me.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @your-nanas-house @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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hooked-on-elvis · 3 months ago

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"Mr. Songman" (1973-1975)

Recorded on December 12, 1973 at Stax Studios, Memphis · Released on January, 1975 · Album: Promised Land.

MUSICIANS Guitar: James Burton, Johnny Christopher, Charlie Hodge. Bass: Norbert Putnam. Drums: Ronnie Tutt. Piano & Organ: David Briggs, Per-Erik Hallin. Vocals: Kathy Westmoreland, Mary (Jeannie) Greene, Mary Holladay, Susan Pilkington, Voice, J.D. Sumner & The Stamps. OVERDUBS Guitar: Dennis Linde, Alan Rush. Percussion: Rob Galbraith. Piano: Bobby Ogdin. Organ: Randy Cullers. Vocals: Ginger Holladay, Mary Holladay, Mary Cain.

Elvis and Donnie Sumner. C. 1972.

RECORDING SESSION Studio Sessions for RCA December 10–16, 1973: Stax Studios, Memphis The group Voice was becoming a permanent fixture on the Elvis scene. Their deal with the singer included a publishing arrangement, and accordingly they brought songs — their own and those of their friends — to the session. Lamar Fike, watching his territory being encroached upon by the newcomers, was irked. “Who wrote this piece of shit?” Lamar gasped while Elvis was recording a Donnie Sumner tune, “Mr. Songman,” as unadventurous in its way as anything from Freddy Bienstock’s stable of English writers. But Elvis stuck with his new friends (and to the Colonel’s design to increase publishing income), even going to the length of releasing “Mr. Songman” as the B-side of a single. Excerpt: "Elvis Presley, A Life in Music: The Complete Recording Sessions" by Ernst Jorgensen. Foreword by Peter Guralnick (1998)

In late 1973, Donnie Sumner, pictured here second from the right left, along with tenor Sherill Neilson, pictured at the lower left, and Tim Baty, pictured behind Donnie Sumner, formed a new group called Voice.

"MR. SONGMAN" — RELEASES The song was released for the first time on the album Promised Land, on Elvis' birthday, January 8, 1975. In April the song was released as B-side single ("T-R-O-U-B-L-E" is the A-side track).

Elvis Presley: Promised Land (1975); Singles "T-R-O-U-B-L-E"/"Mr. Songman"

youtube

"Mr. Songman" — LYRICS Songwriter: Donnie Sumner Here's another dime for you, Mr. Songman Sing the loneliness of broken dreams away if you can Yes, it's only me and you, Mr. Songman Take away the night, sing away my hurt, Mr. Songman In your ivory covered house safe behind your walls of glass You keep staring back at me like a memory from the past Won't you sing me away to a summer night, let me hold you in my arms again I know memory's not re-living but at least it's not the end Here's another dime for you, Mr. Songman Sing the loneliness of broken dreams away if you can Yes, it's only me and you, Mr. Songman Take away the night, sing away my hurt, Mr. Songman Won't you sing me away to a summer night, let me hold her in my arms again Take away the night, sing away my hurt, Mr. Songman

Elvis arriving at the Stax Studio in Memphis, TN, for a recording session. 1973.

TAKES — "Mr. Songman" Elvis occasionally sang it on tour during 1975 and 1976, but I couldn't find any recordings unfortunately. However, here's TAKE 1 which was sung in a different way than the master, and I LOVE IT! I hope you enjoy too.

youtube

#Spotify #Youtube #elvis presley #elvis history #elvis music #elvis discography #promised land #1975 #elvis songs #“Mr. Songman”#the voice #elvis #70s elvis #elvis at stax #elvis the king

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pxnsneverland · 14 days ago

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Heartbreak Hotel | austin!elvis x oc (part 1)

(gif source: theresalwaysep)

plot summary: Angel Casteel is a small town girl who lucked into working as a costume designer at a film studio. Unfortunately, her confidence in herself wavers as she is assigned to work with Elvis on his latest motion picture. Overcome by his star power at first, she slowly starts to realize there is a man behind the fame, a man she understands. But as they grow closer, the world grows more turbulent, especially Elvis's world. Will this Angel be able to save Elvis from himself and the people around him? Or will getting mixed up in his word prove to be her downfall as well?

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 2741

warnings/notes: N/A

Chapter 1: The Costumer's Dance with The King

As Angel Casteel strolled along the winding pathways of the bustling studio, her mind was consumed with a whirlwind of thoughts. Each step she took brought her closer to her latest assignment, igniting a sense of anticipation within her. The air was thick with creative energy, as fellow artists immersed themselves in their respective projects. The vibrant atmosphere seemed to fuel her imagination, as she pondered the task that lay ahead. She found herself transfixed, her gaze locked upon the delicate piece of paper that had been handed to her by the front office. A sense of apprehension coursed through her veins, causing her to momentarily freeze in her tracks. It was in that very moment that the realization struck her like a bolt of lightning, electrifying her every nerve. As fate would have it, she found herself bestowed with a remarkable opportunity - a chance to be a part of the mesmerizing world of Elvis Presley's latest motion picture. The sheer magnitude of this moment was not lost on me, for she was entrusted with the task of personally adorning the legendary icon with his costumes for the big screen. Angel found myself staring at the assignment card in her hands as if hoping to uncover some hidden mistake. As she carefully examined the photograph, her eyes were immediately drawn to the bold letters inscribed on the back. ANGEL CASTEEL. It was as if the air had been violently expelled from her lungs. In that instant, time seemed to stand still, as she struggled to regain her composure. In the grand tapestry of music history, there emerged a man whose brilliance outshone all others - Elvis Presley. With his magnetic charisma and unparalleled talent, he ascended to the pinnacle of stardom, becoming a celestial figure in the realm of entertainment. The world, captivated by his mesmerizing voice and electrifying performances, bestowed upon him the title of the biggest star to ever grace the stage. The weight of his authority hung heavy in the air. Angel knew that one wrong move, one ill-chosen word, could spell disaster for her future in this place. The thought of crossing him sent shivers down her spine. The consequences were clear - a swift and merciless termination, her dreams shattered in an instant. The disapproving whispers of her parents echoed in her mind. The prospect of facing her family, her head held low in defeat, was a bitter pill to swallow. It seemed as though the world was determined to prove her parents right about her ill-fated choice to forgo college and embark on an uncertain journey to the land of dreams. The allure of California, with its promises of opportunity and adventure, had once beckoned her like a siren's call. But now, as reality set in, the weight of her decision pressed heavily upon her conscience. She felt her body physically tremble at the mere notion of it.

With resolve hardening in her chest, Angel took a deep breath and forced her feet to move forward. She mustered the courage that had brought her from her small town to the heart of Hollywood, reminding herself of the countless nights spent sketching designs by the dim light of her old desk lamp, dreaming of a moment like this.

As she approached the opulent dressing room marked with Elvis Presley's name adorned in glittering gold, her pace slowed. Her hand hovered over the door handle, the cold metal feeling like a threshold to a new world. Taking another steadying breath, Angel pushed the door open.

The room was lavish, befitting a star of Elvis's magnitude. The air was scented with a mix of leather and aftershave, and the walls were lined with mirrors and photographs of famous movie scenes. At the center, seated in front of a vanity mirror, was Elvis himself, his back to her, engrossed in conversation with an old man who appeared to be his manager.

Angel cleared her throat softly, announcing her presence. Elvis turned around, his legendary smile warming the room instantly. “Hey there, darling. You must be the one behind my wardrobe for this film.”

Flustered but thrilled, I shook his outstretched hand, but was unable to make any words spill from my mouth. The old man Elvis had been talking to placed both hands on the top of his cane with a smile that seemed slightly forced. “She’s a pretty one, my boy. Don’t go getting yourself distracted here.”

Elvis glanced back at the man laughing. “Ah, don’t scare her, Colonel.” He turned back to Angel. “Don’t listen to nothin’ the Colonel says. He likes to make jokes. I’m Elvis and this is my manager Colonel Tom Parker. What’s your name, darlin’?”

Angel took a deep breath, her nerves momentarily calmed by the congeniality of Elvis's tone. "I'm Angel Casteel, Mr. Presley," she managed to say, her voice steadier than she felt.

Elvis chuckled softly. "Well, Angel…ain’t that just a fitting name for a beauty like you? And just call me Elvis. Mr. Presley is my Daddy. I ain’t that old yet.”

His laughter was infectious, and Angel found herself smiling, the tension easing from her shoulders.. “You don’t look old at all, Elvis.” His name felt foreign on her lips but she found a strange comfort in it.

“You’re bein’ too nice.” Elvis gestured towards a plush, velvet couch. "Come on over here and show me what you’ve got.”

Angel moved gracefully toward the couch, clutching the portfolio that contained all her carefully crafted designs. As she laid the sketches out on the low coffee table, her hands trembled slightly, betraying her nervous excitement.

Elvis leaned forward, his keen eyes scanning each design with an intensity that made Angel's heart skip a beat. He paused at one of the sketches, a sleek, black leather jacket paired with a high-collar, white silk shirt. "Now, this is something else," he remarked, his voice laced with genuine interest. "Tell me about this one."

Gathering her thoughts, Angel explained, "I wanted to combine traditional rock 'n' roll elements with a touch of modern flair.”

Elvis nodded appreciatively. "I like that. It’s got edge but still classy.”

"I was thinking something vibrant for the dance scenes," Angel said, pointing to a sketch of a shimmering gold jacket. "Something that catches the light and complements your dynamic movements."

Elvis picked up the sketch, his eyes lighting up. “You’ve got a real talent, Angel."

Flushed with pride and relief at his approval, Angel continued to show him other designs, each receiving thoughtful consideration and encouraging words from Elvis. Colonel Parker observed quietly from the side, occasionally interjecting with practical considerations about fabric choices and stage logistics.

As the afternoon wore on, the initial tension that had cocooned Angel upon her entrance gradually dissolved into a comfortable camaraderie. Elvis seemed genuinely interested in her thoughts and ideas, often asking for her opinion on other aspects of his wardrobe beyond the immediate needs of the film. It was a collaborative atmosphere that she had only dreamed of, one where her visions and suggestions were not only heard but respected.

“Angel, you’ve got an eye for this stuff,” Elvis said as he stood up to stretch his legs, “I think we’re gonna make a great team.”

Angel nodded enthusiastically. “I think so too.”

Elvis grinned, clapping her lightly on the shoulder. “Great! Let’s keep this momentum going. Maybe after we wrap up here, we could grab some dinner? There’s a little place not too far from here that makes the best Southern fried chicken you’ll ever taste.”

The casual invitation sent a thrill through Angel’s heart. Dinner with Elvis Presley? The very thought was almost too much to fathom. Hesitantly, she accepted. "That sounds wonderful, Elvis. I'd love to."

Elvis's smile broadened, lighting up his face with a boyish charm that few could resist. "Fantastic! It’s a date then," he said, a playful tone in his voice that made Angel's heart flutter with excitement.

Walking out of the dressing room together felt surreal to Angel. The movie crew, like a swarm of bees, descended upon him, their eager hands guiding him towards the sound stage to finish out the filming for the day. Silently, Angel trailed behind, her eyes fixed on him as he came to a halt. He engaged in conversation with the main actress, the one who portrayed the female lead and served as Elvis's love interest in the film. She stood before him, a vision of beauty. Her face adorned with carefully applied makeup, enhancing her features and accentuating her natural charm. Her luscious blond locks cascaded in perfect curls, framing her face with an air of elegance. Clad in a swimsuit that showcased her long, slender legs, she left little to the imagination. As he flashed a warm smile in her direction, Angel’s heart skipped a beat, and a sudden realization washed over her. It was a truth that had been lurking. Elvis only wanted to be kind. With her jet-black hair and eyes, the color of a moonlit sea, she was nowhere near attractive enough. Her skin was too pale, and her clothing was simply thrift shop finds that suited her well. In the vast expanse of the universe, their souls resided on separate solar systems, as distant from each other as the stars. With a heavy sigh escaping her lips, she trudged forward.

Angel's thoughts churned as she watched Elvis interact with the stunning actress. The way he laughed, the casual touch of his hand on her arm, it all seemed so effortless, so perfect. A pang of jealousy twisted in her stomach, not because she wanted Elvis for herself—she was too practical for such fantasies—but because she feared that their budding professional friendship might suffer from his divided attentions. The stark contrast between their worlds couldn't be more pronounced in her eyes; where he shone brightly, she felt dimmed by her own perceived ordinariness.

Yet, as she lingered by the edges of the bustling set, a soft hand touched her shoulder, startling her from her reverie. It was Elvis, who had extricated himself from the crowd and come over to find her. His smile was still present, but his eyes held a hint of concern. "Hey, you alright?" he asked gently.

Angel forced a smile, nodding unconvincingly. "Yes, just... overwhelmed," she managed to say, gesturing vaguely towards the chaos of the film set.

Elvis's expression softened, a mixture of understanding and empathy crossing his features. "It can get a bit much, huh?" he said, drawing her slightly away from the throng. "But you, Angel, you belong here just as much as anyone else. Look at me. Just a hillbilly who lucked into all this. Most of the time I don’t even really know what I’m doin’.”

His words, warm and sincere, were a balm to her jangled nerves. “You’re doing wonderfully, Elvis. Everyone can see that.” Angel’s voice was soft but firm, her belief in him evident.

Elvis shook his head, his hair brushing against his forehead. "Nah, it's all smoke and mirrors, darlin'.” He chuckled, then his gaze fixed more intently on her. "But you — you’ve got real talent, Angel. Don’t ever doubt that. This stuff,” he gestured broadly to the hubbub surrounding them, “It’s fleeting. But creating something? That’s forever.”

“Thank you, Elvis,” she said, her voice steadier now.

Elvis grinned, the light catching in his eyes in a way that made them sparkle mischievously. “Now, don’t let me keep you from shining today. We’ve got some more scenes to shoot, but how about we meet by the wardrobe when we wrap? Don’t forget about our dinner plans!”

“I won’t,” she promised, feeling the flutter of butterflies in her stomach at the thought of spending more time with him outside of work.

As Elvis headed back toward the set, Angel watched him go, her heart still racing from their interaction.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur for Angel. She busied herself with final adjustments to the costumes, her hands moving mechanically as her mind replayed the warmth in Elvis's voice and the sincere look in his eyes. The movie set, usually a place of overwhelming noise and activity, felt strangely muted to her ears, as if she was hearing it all from underwater.

As the hours ticked by, the set began to wind down from the day's hectic schedule. Crew members started cleaning up, actors removed makeup, and the buzz of activity slowly diminished into a quiet hum. Angel tidied up her workspace in the wardrobe department, folding fabrics and organizing her materials meticulously.

As promised, Elvis was waiting for her by the wardrobe racks when she arrived, his presence commanding even in such an ordinary setting. He was dressed casually now, in slacks and a simple button-up shirt that did nothing to hide his charismatic aura. "Ready to go?" he asked with an easy smile.

Angel nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Absolutely, I just need to grab my things," she replied as she reached for her jacket.

Walking out of the studio together, they found themselves stepping into the cool evening air. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow that seemed almost magical. As they approached Elvis's car, a vintage convertible that gleamed under the fading light, Angel couldn't help but feel like she was stepping into a scene from one of those glamorous old Hollywood films.

Elvis held the passenger door open for her, and as she slid into the soft leather seat, he flashed her a grin that could have melted hearts across continents. "Ever ridden in one of these before?" he asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

"No, I can't say I have," Angel replied, her voice slightly shaky with excitement.

Elvis chuckled as he started the engine, the sound rumbling softly beneath them. "Well, you're in for a treat," he said, his eyes twinkling with excitement as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the open road. The wind began to pick up, sending Angel's hair fluttering around her face, and she laughed, feeling a surge of freedom she hadn't expected.

The drive was filled with a comfortable silence initially, as both seemed content to simply absorb the moment. The landscape blurred past them, a mix of city lights and twilight shadows painting the journey in hues of blues and oranges. Elvis finally broke the silence, his voice thoughtful. "You ever think you would be here in LA?" he asked, glancing her way.

Angel pondered the question, her fingers tracing the leather seam of the seat. “No. I grew up in a one-horse town in Alabama, workin’ as a waitress in the one of the two restaurants the town had. I always wanted somethin’ better, somethin’ different. So instead of savin’ up money to go to college, I saved up money to move to California. My parents thought I was crazy; my friends didn’t really believe in me either.”

“But here I am,” she continued, her voice lifting with a newfound strength. “And every day on that set, even with all its chaos and uncertainty, I’m grateful. Grateful for the chance to be part of something bigger than just serving coffee and pies back home.”

Elvis nodded, his expression a mixture of admiration and understanding. “That’s something we share, you know? I didn’t come from much either. Just a little shotgun house in Tupelo, Mississippi. Most folks thought I’d end up pumping gas or working in the fields.” He smiled softly, his eyes reflecting the streetlights as they passed.

"But here we are, right? Chasing dreams in the city of stars," he continued, his voice tinged with a hint of wonder.

Angel smiled, turning to look at him, the wind still playing with her hair. “Right. I never imagined I'd end up here, and definitely never thought I'd be riding alongside Elvis Presley." Her laugh was light, carefree.

Elvis's smile widened at her words. "I'm glad you're here with me, Angel. It feels like this was supposed to happen. Like it’s part of a bigger plan or somethin’." He turned his gaze back to the road, focusing on the weaving path of headlights before them.

The conversation drifted then to lighter topics — music, favorite movies, and anecdotes from their respective childhoods. Each story shared was a thread that seemed to weave them closer together, bridging the gap between their worlds with laughter and mutual understanding.

Stay tuned for part 2!! Click HERE to view!

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youaintnothinbuta · 3 months ago

Note

Could you write something about reader being Scotty’s cousin from Europe. Reader and Elvis start dating in secret ?

“Is everyone where you’re from this pretty?” — Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: you are Scotty’s cousin but develop an interest in Elvis, and the two of you date secretly.

Pairing: Elvis or Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 2.5K OOPS I’m so sorry if you wanted it shorter </3

Warnings: none! Fluff!! Possible typos, sorry sometimes they’re hard to catch <3

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The summer air was thick as you stepped off the plane. It was your first time in the States, and you had been excited to see what it was all about, especially when Scotty, your cousin, invited you to stay with him in Memphis for the summer. You’d always been close to him, despite the distance between your homes— all the way across an ocean. He was five years your senior, so as an only child, he was the closest thing you had to an older brother. Growing up, you’d heard stories about life in America, but now you were about to experience it firsthand.

Scotty was waiting for you at the airport, his familiar smile breaking into a wide grin when he saw you. He looked exactly as you remembered him—tall, lanky, and his face hadn’t changed a bit since you’d seen him last.

“Well, well, look who finally made it across the pond!” he teased as he pulled you into a hug.

“Scotty!” you laughed, hugging him back tightly. “It’s so good to see you!”

After a short drive, you arrived at Scotty’s house, which was cozy yet full of character. You marveled at the differences between here and back home, from the architecture to the accents you heard in the neighborhood. Scotty had promised you before you came that you’d get to meet some of his friends, who were doing pretty well in the music business. He had been vague on the details, but you could sense he was excited to introduce you.

He let you take the afternoon to recover from your flight, just the two of you chatting and reminiscing in his living room. That evening, Scotty invited you to come along to a rehearsal with his band, where you’d finally meet these friends of his. When you arrived at the studio, it was buzzing with activity—people moving equipment, adjusting microphones, and tuning instruments. But all that chaos faded into the background when you caught sight of a figure you recognised from photographs and news stories. A figure you were rather fond of.

Elvis Presley.

Scotty had mentioned his name in passing, but you hadn’t realised that this was the same Elvis who was quickly becoming a sensation. He was laughing with some of the guys, his presence commanding attention even though he wasn’t trying to.

“Elvis!” Scotty called out, waving him over. Elvis turned, his smile broadening when he saw him, and he made his way over to the two of you.

“Scotty! Who’s this little lady?” Elvis asked, his eyes landing on you with a curious glint.

“This is my cousin, Y/N, fresh in from Europe,” Scotty said, placing a hand on your shoulder, gently. “She’s stayin’ with me for a bit.”

Elvis’ gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his smile widening. “Well, ain’t that somethin’? Welcome to Memphis.”

“Thank you,” you replied, trying to keep your composure, but feeling a bit starstruck by his presence. “I’m already liking what I see.”

The rehearsal went on, and you found yourself fascinated not just by the music, but by the way Elvis moved and interacted with everyone. There was an undeniable energy about him, something magnetic that drew people in. And as the evening progressed, you noticed that he kept stealing glances your way, his eyes locking with yours every so often. It made your heart race, though you tried not to read too much into it.

When the session wrapped up, Scotty invited everyone back to his place for drinks. The group was lively, sharing stories and laughs, but you couldn’t help but notice that Elvis had gravitated towards you again. He was effortlessly charming, asking you about life in Europe and what you thought of the States so far.

“It’s different,” you admitted with a smile. “But in a good way. I think I could get used to it.”

“Well, I hope you do,” Elvis said, his tone more serious now, his gaze intense as he looked at you.

The night stretched on, and as people started to leave, you found yourself alone with Elvis in the kitchen. Scotty had gone outside to see some friends off, leaving you two in a quiet moment that felt oddly intimate.

“So tell me,” Elvis said, his voice low, “is everyone where you’re from this pretty?”

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Elvis stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours as he leaned against the counter. “I don’t wanna make things complicated, with you bein’ Scotty’s family and all, but… I’d like to see ya again. Just the two of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the idea of dating Elvis Presley both thrilling and terrifying.

“Elvis,” you sighed, “Scotty and you are so close, and I don’t know if he’d want—“

“What do you want?” He interrupted, his hand now resting over yours. You inhaled sharply at the purposeful contact. Something about him made it impossible to say no. And you did really want to.

“I’d like that,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The kitchen door suddenly swung open. Scotty walked in, a broad smile on his face as he entered the room, completely oblivious to the charged atmosphere between you and Elvis.

“Hey, what’re y’all doin’ in here?” Scotty asked, his tone light and playful.

Elvis immediately stepped back, putting some distance between the two of you. You could see the flash of nerves in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a casual grin.

“Oh, just chattin’,” Elvis said smoothly. “Y/N here was tellin’ me all about the music scene back home. We gotta tour there, man.”

Scotty nodded, “Oh, wouldn’t that be great? You gotta get the colonel on that, Elvis.”

“Hey,” Elvis suddenly said, his voice a bit louder as if trying to draw attention. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen, and tore some paper off a blank notepad magnetised to the fridge. “You mentioned earlier that one of your friends back home is a fan, right? Let me give you an autograph to take her.”

“Oh, right, thank you,” you replied, catching on quickly. You watched as Elvis scribbled something on the paper. He handed it to you with a small smile.

Elvis gave you one last look before he straightened up and flashed a charming smile at your cousin.

“Well, I should probably get goin’,” Elvis announced, stepping away from the counter. “It was very nice meeting you.”

“Alright, man,” Scotty said, clapping Elvis on the back. “Take care. We’ll see ya ‘round.”

He walked out of the kitchen, leaving you alone with Scotty. Your cousin turned to you, completely oblivious to the unspoken conversation that had just taken place.

“Glad you’re gettin’ along with everyone,” he said.

“Yeah, everyone is very nice,” you replied, your heart still racing.

Later that night, when you were alone in your room, you pulled out the piece of paper Elvis had given you. His number was scrawled beneath a hastily written message, “Keep this safe. - Elvis.”

A few days later, Scotty had invited you along to the studio again, excited to show you more of the work he was doing with the band.

You quickly spotted Elvis, sitting at the piano. His eyes flicked up as soon as you entered, locking with yours for a brief moment. A subtle smile played on his lips, and you could feel your heart skip a beat.

Scotty led you over to a group of the guys’ girlfriends who were gathered off to the side, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. They welcomed you with warm smiles, and soon you found yourself involved in their conversation, though you couldn’t help but keep glancing over at Elvis.

A couple of hours passed, and the rehearsal was winding down. Scotty walked over to you, wiping sweat from his brow. “Well, looks like we’re about done for the night. You ready to head out?”

Before you could respond, Elvis spoke up from across the room. “Hey, Scotty, how about letting her stay with the girls a bit longer? I can give her a ride home when she’s ready.”

Scotty looked at Elvis, a bit surprised by the offer. He then turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “You alright with that?”

You glanced over at Elvis, who was watching you intently, and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Scotty smiled and gave you a quick hug. “Alright, I’ll see you later then. Thanks, man,” he said, nodding to Elvis before heading out the door.

Once Scotty was gone, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The other musicians began packing up their gear, and the few remaining girlfriends started to trickle out, leaving you and Elvis with just a few others. Elvis walked over to you, his expression softer now that Scotty was gone.

“Wanna get outta here?” he asked, his voice low and inviting.

You nodded, a mix of curiosity and excitement bubbling up inside you. “Sure.”

Elvis led you out of the studio, his hand lightly resting on the small of your back as he guided you to his car.

“I would take ya out,” Elvis said as he drove, “but I can’t be sure we won’t get pictured, and I can’t have you ending up in the papers. ‘Specially not without Scotty knowing.”

“I get it.” You said softly. Instead, he took you to his house. Elvis parked the car and walked around to open the door for you, his hand gently guiding you out.

Elvis pushed open the front door, and you were immediately greeted by the comforting smell of home-cooked food. The house was cozy and welcoming, it felt built from love. As you stepped inside, a woman’s voice called out from the other room.

“Elvis? Is that you, honey?”

“Yeah, Mama, it’s me,” Elvis replied, guiding you toward the living room.

You entered the room to find a woman and a man sitting on a couch, their faces lighting up when they saw Elvis. The woman, whom you quickly recognized as his mother, got up and walked over to you with a warm smile.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty thing!” she said, her voice full of warmth as she pulled you into a gentle hug. “I’m Gladys, and this here’s Vernon, Elvis’ daddy.”

“It’s so nice to meet you both,” you replied, feeling instantly at ease in their presence.

Vernon stood up, offering you a kind smile and a handshake. “Any friend of Elvis’ is welcome here.”

Elvis stood by, watching the interaction with a soft smile. “Mama, Daddy, this is Scotty’s cousin, Y/N. She’s visitin’ from Europe.”

Gladys’s eyes lit up with interest. “Well, how excitin’! You must have some stories to tell.”

Elvis gently guided you toward the couch, sitting down beside you. The living room was cozy, with soft lighting and a few of Elvis’s records scattered on a table nearby. After a few minutes of chatting with his parents, Gladys excused herself, offering to get the two of you something to drink, which you both declined. Vernon followed her, leaving you and Elvis alone in the living room. You spent the night talking, telling stories, getting to know each other, singing (or at least, on Elvis’ part) and just hanging out, but as the night continued, it was soon time to head back to Scotty’s house.

Gladys smiled, her eyes twinkling with affection. “You take care, honey. And you,” she held Elvis’ arm, “make sure she gets home safe?”

“Don’t worry, Mama,” Elvis assured her. “I got it.”

You said your goodbyes to his parents, taking a liking to them already. They were kind and welcoming, and you could see where Elvis got his warmth and charm.

As you approached Scotty’s house, Elvis slowed the car, pulling up a little way down the street, wanting a moment with you that wasn’t directly in front of Scotty’s property line. He cut the engine and turned to you, his gaze soft and contemplative.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked, his voice low, almost as if he were afraid of breaking the quiet intimacy that had settled over you both.

You smiled, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “I had a wonderful time, Elvis. Thank you.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if considering something, then leaned in closer. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, one that made your heart race and your cheeks flush.

“I’ll figure somethin’ out,” he promised. “Somewhere we can go, I mean.”

You nodded, still a bit breathless from the kiss. “I can’t wait.”

With a final, tender look, Elvis gently squeezed your hand before turning back to the wheel. He pulled up in front of Scotty’s house and turned to you again.

With a sense of reluctance, you both got out of the car. Elvis walked around to your side, offering his arm as you approached the front door of Scotty’s house. The night air was cool, and the street was quiet, with only the soft chirping of crickets breaking the silence.

As you reached the front door, Elvis hesitated for a moment, then gently knocked on the door. You could tell he was trying to be respectful, even though he probably wanted nothing more than to steal another kiss before saying goodnight.

You stood beside him, your heart pounding as you waited for Scotty to answer. The door creaked open, and there was Scotty, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to recognition as he saw the two of you standing there together.

“Well, look who it is,” Scotty said with a grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Elvis nodded, a slightly sheepish smile on his face. “Didn’t wake you, did we?”

Scotty chuckled and shook his head. He stepped aside, holding the door open for you.

“Thanks for bringing her home, Elvis,” Scotty said, his tone friendly but with an underlying hint of curiosity. “Hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

Elvis laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, she’s a good girl.”

You blushed slightly at the exchange, feeling the warmth in the room despite the teasing.

With one last, lingering glance, Elvis leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Goodnight, Y/N’.”

“Goodnight, Elvis,” you replied, your heart fluttering at the tenderness in his voice.

“Night, EP,” Scotty said, closing the door. You pulled your coat off, hanging it up, smiling as you caught a whiff of Elvis’ smell, realising some of his cologne had rubbed off onto you.

“Had a good time?” Scotty asked.

“Yeah, the girls are all lovely.” You reply, heading up the stairs to go to bed. You didn’t love lying to him, but you didn’t love the thought of not seeing Elvis even less.

—————

A/N: thank you so much for this request, I had so much fun writing it!! if you want part two where you tell Scotty/Scotty finds out, just drop another request and lmk how you want him to react!! (Happy, been knowing, surprised, upset, etc) <3

Also, just wanted to mention! As this was a request, I wanted to stay as true to what you asked for and so that’s why reader is from “Europe” and not any specific country but I promise you as an Aussie, I do know that Europe has tons of different diverse countries and cultures <3

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denimbex1986 · 10 months ago

Text

'If, in between big heaving sobs, you don’t leave All Of Us Strangers humming Frankie Goes To Hollywood’s The Power Of Love, then check your pulse: you too might also be a departed figure from the afterlife.

Writer-director Andrew Haigh’s hauntingly beautiful film understands the power of nostalgia, and how much of it is rooted in sound. “I think almost every single song that comes out was scripted," he recently told IndieWire. "I knew what that music was before I even started, and I made sure we got the rights to it before we started. Everything was sort of designed with that in mind. [The movie] is about the power of music, weirdly, to drag us back into the past.”

Here’s all the key needle drops from the film (watch out for some spoilers along the way):

Setting The Scene in Adam’s Flat – Fine Young Cannibals: Johnny Come Home

While stuck with writer’s block, Adam cues up this archetypal slice of ‘80s pop to transport himself back to the era. As Roland Gift’s falsetto cries out ‘Johnny/We’re sorry/Won’t you come on home’, is it this 1984 track that causes Adam to revisit his own home, and find out if his parents were also sorry for what happened in his childhood? Or is it Build by The Housemartins, that he also spins, that has him yearning for the past once again?

The Christmas Tree Decorating Scene – Pet Shop Boys: Always On My Mind

The family don’t yet know it – well, apart from Adam, that is – but this is the last time they’ll all be together, a picture perfect moment as they decorate the Christmas tree. As they do so, they start to sing along to the 1987 Pet Shop Boys cover of Elvis Presley’s Always On My Mind. The lyrics (Maybe I didn't hold you/All those lonely, lonely times) echo the repressed nature of some middle-England families of that age, but have an extra poignancy and subtext for Adam and his dad. It seems to be at points cathartic, as they sing what they could never express at the time.

The Nightclub Scene – Joe Smooth: Promised Land

Once voted number 4 in DJ Mag’s Top 100 Club Tunes, there’s no dance floor that this song can't fill. The song speaks of unity, of how there’s peace and comfort when we join forces with others – and whether it’s the song or just the bumps of ket Adam and Scott hoofed up in the club toilets, for one moment, Adam is happy, enjoying a transcendental moment among the sweaty, smiling faces in the crowd. If the film is all a dream, we hope that this is one event that actually came to pass for Adam in reality and not just the breakdown afterwards.

The Meltdown Scene – Blur: Death Of A Party

Used to great effect, the one song in the soundtrack from the ‘90s (1997 specifically, from the band’s self-titled album) is a slowed-down, twisted and distorted nightmare, as Adam either falls into a terrifying k-hole, or falls screaming further back into his delusional hallucinations. Perhaps both! Either way, the art-school band track perfectly captures that moment on a night out when it all gets a bit dark.

The End Scene – Frankie Goes To Hollywood: The Power Of Love

“I’ll protect you from the Hooded Claw,” Adam tells Harry in the final scene, “Keep the vampires from your door.” He is, of course, quoting from the Frankie Goes To Hollywood 1984 song, The Power Of Love. It’s not the first time that the song appears in the film, as Adam plays it earlier in the story, and it’s on the TV on the night Harry tries to drop in.

The song would also have extra significance for Adam, who, we learn, lost his parents in a car crash on Christmas Eve. Although not intentionally created as a Christmas song, when the nativity-theme video for the track was released, alongside the religious iconography for the single's artwork, it was placed in the Christmas canon forevermore and hit number one in the charts in 1984. Each new festive year, as Adam heard that song, it will have transported him back to that tragic Christmas as a child when he lost his parents.

It’s a total gut punch of a song to use in the ending minutes of the film, as the lyrics implore us to ‘make love your goal’. This ethos is reflected in both the ending of All Of Us Strangers and in the beginning of the music video, with light emanating from a giant star. Equally, the warm, fire-like lighting that Haigh bathed many of the romance scenes in seems to reference the lyrics ‘Flame on, burn desire/ Love with tongues of fire’, as Adam’s joy with a partner finally illuminates his dark world. Ultimately, as the pair fade into stars and the credits roll, the lyrics sing out: ‘Love is the light/scaring darkness away’.

Back in 2012, Frankie Goes to Hollywood frontman Holly Johnson spoke about his deep attachment to the song. “I always felt like The Power of Love was the record that would save me in this life," he told The Guardian. "There is a Biblical aspect to its spirituality and passion; the fact that love is the only thing that matters in the end.” A mantra that we hope Adam takes with him, wherever he floats off to in the ether.'

#Andrew Haigh #All of Us Strangers #Frankie Goes to Hollywood #The Power of Love #Blur #Death of a Party #Fine Young Cannibals #Johnny Come Home #Joe Smooth #Promised Land #Pet Shop Boys #Always on My Mind #Build #The Housemartins #Elvis Presley

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ameagrice · 3 months ago

Text

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-five | when I say ��hell’, you say ‘nah’

Being tied up and gagged sitting beside a barbecue spitting hot oil at you, was not on the agenda.

And yet you sighed, tied up to a barbecue. Across the porch, Nico sat the same way, bound to the railing. To your left, Grover mirrored him, tied up in the sun. He was sweating, and looked incredibly tired. You wished you could do something about the situation you got caught in, but the truth was, you couldn’t do a thing. Percy got you here, and only Percy could get you out.

“Lovely day!” Geryon flipped sausages. A bit of piping-hot oil landed on your cheek. You flinched, but he didn’t pay you any notice. “Lovely day…Eurytion, get those banners higher!”

Streamers and party balloons were tied up and taped to the windows by Eurytion, who you deducted to be a spineless man. He’d tied you all up at Geryon’s instructions and relaxed on the bench under the window, in the shade.

You tried desperately to think of a way you could contact anyone. Chiron, perhaps, who could advise you on what to do now that Percy had gotten you tied up and held hostage. Maybe even Sally Jackson, since she always knew what you could do. Her advice hadn’t failed you yet. But there were no water sources or reflective surfaces to make a rainbow, and you could reach your bag chucked out of the way down on the grass, anyway. Eurytion had been kind enough to put your dagger in your bag, rather than throwing it away. That was something.

Eurytion and Geryon ate barbecue food, put more on the grill, and ate that, too, until the sun had set relatively low. The whole time, you tried not to hyperventilate at the thought of Percy being eaten by monster horses. You tried not to think of the high possibility you’d be sold off like a piece in a thrift store. You tried not to, but your mind ran wild. Grover communicated with his eyes, probably as tired as you were after your struggle to get out of the ties. You hadn’t any idea what he was communicating, though—the sun beamed in your eyes.

You were beginning to think he wasn’t coming back at all, a hopeless sort of sadness setting in, when a desperate, boys voice rang out above the barbecue and Geryon’s terrible singing.

“Let them go!” Percy’s voice raged. He ran up the porch steps and rounded. He locked eyes with you, and then Grover and Nico. “I cleaned the stables. So let them go.” Relief lifted the weight off your shoulders, that Percy was still breathing.

Geryon lifted off his cooking apron and dumped it over the porch rail. “Did you, now? How’d you manage it, sonny?”

Breathing deeply, Percy explained. “The water from the river. I…controlled it. Cleared the stables out completely.”

Geryon nodded appreciatively. “Well, then, Mr. Genius, smart move. You could have at least poisoned the naiad that resides in there, but hey-ho.” The staticky radio on the bench next to Eurytion played an Elvis Presley song, cutting out here and there. Polk Salad Annie felt a little bit too upbeat for the unpredictable crowd.

“Let my friends go,” Percy seethed, not appreciating the insinuation that he hadn’t done enough. “We had a deal.”

Geryon chuckled. “See, the problem is, and I’ve been thinking about this very deeply; if I let your friends go, I won’t get paid. They’re staying.”

Your eyes widened so much you might have looked comical. Percy turned gray. “You. Promised.”

“Ah, but you didn’t have me swear on the River Styx, did you? Therefore, it was not binding. Always remember, Percy, when you’re conducting any business, you should always swear on the River Styx. A binding oath is worth everything, alrighty?”

A beat of silence hit as Percy drew his sword. Riptide reflected the gold of the sun, strong at your friend’s side. Orthus, standing at Grover’s head, growled deeply.

Geryon waved Percy off like he was a knat. “Eurytion, he’s annoying me. Kill him.”

Grover and yourself protested as much as you could with your mouth’s somewhat bound too. Geryon looked away and slung a packet of bacon on the grill. At the same time, Percy inched closer to you, angling Riptide to the ties on your ankles. Orthus pounced and snapped at him, forcing Percy to move away. Saliva dripped from the dog’s mouths in a disgusting puddle near your feet. You couldn’t help feeling a little angry at him. For the first time, Percy had truly put your life at risk, and his way out of it failed to be effective.

“Kill him yourself,” said Eurytion, crossing his arms loosely.

Raising his dark brows, Geryon uttered a calm, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! You keep sending me to do your dirty work. You pick fights for no proper reason, and I’m tired of dying for you. You want the kid dead; kill him yourself.”

Tensely, the scene reminded you of a movie, like a cowboy facing down his enemy. You wanted to laugh, but honestly you felt a little too heat-exhausted and scared.

Geryon threw down the metal tongs. “How dare you defy me? I should be rid of you this instant!”

“And who’d look after your cattle then? Orthus, heel.” The dog left you, settling at Eurytion’s side.

“Whatever! I’ll deal with you later, after the boy’s gone.”

Then the scene

went

wild.

Geryon picked up two carving knives and threw them with such fury in Percy’s direction that they went haywire; he raised Riptide and deflected one away, over the rail, the other landed between Eurytion’s feet. Orthus barked aggressively, and Elvis Presley went crazy on the radio. Though obviously tired, and looking sweaty and pale (and in need of a shower after the stench of the stables), Percy went on the offence, raising Riptide and aiming right for Geryon’s head. He ducked and moved aside, causing the sword to go right through his middle chest. You looked away, praying to your mother you didn’t gag, because the way you were feeling in the sun, it would not be good. Geryon yelled in pain and thudded to the deck. You anticipated the familiar sound of crumbling to ashes and dust the way monsters usually do, but it didn’t happen.

“Nice try,” he growled. “Thing is, I obviously have three hearts. It’s the perfect backup!” You looked back just in time to witness him kick over the barbecue that had been boiling all day long. The metal grates fell away, as smoking coals spilled out. Being so close to it, one caught your cheek as it dropped, others burning around your feet. You screamed, and couldn’t stop it. Grover yanked uselessly at his bindings, while Orthus approached him in a low crawl. Elvis didn’t give a shit that you found yourself in a stressful situation. Eurytion stepped back down the porch steps. Nico looked visibly terrified. After all, he was only a kid.

Percy struck Geryon in the chest again, but he only laughed in his face. The dark-haired boy ran the sword through his stomach but it did absolutely nothing. Percy persevered, usually, so watching him take off inside the house was a kick to the stomach. He couldn’t leave you here, surely? Your cheek itched painfully from the burn of the coal and the oil and the sun, you were tired and hot and stressed. Sooner rather than later, you might explode.

Geryon launched the large barbecue fork through the open doorway, and it landed in something with a terrible clunk. “Your head’s gonna go there, Jackson, next to the bear!”

In the doorway, Percy appeared carrying a large bow and notched an arrow, shocking since he couldn’t so much as hit a target a metre away at camp. Geryon berated him verbally with cruel remarks and laughter, but Percy was not to be deterred. The monster didn’t need weapons to charge toward Percy, who dove sideways. Before he could react, Percy let the arrow fly. It shot straight through Geryon’s arm in a bloody mess, and right through his bodies to the other side, landing in the wall inside the house. The ranch grew still and quiet, Geryon turning. “You can’t shoot,” he struggled to talk. “They told me you can’t.” In a sickly shade of violent green, he fell to his knees heavily and promptly turned to ashes, grains as small as sand. Silently, all that remained was a pair of jeans, a huge shirt and boots.

Percy turned, dropping the bow to the deck, clattering. In his pocket Riptide had returned. He cut your mouth free first, careful of the stinging cheek, knowing somehow that freedom of speech was what you wanted now.

You coughed to clear your throat, and brilliant-gray met sea-green. “Glad you’re still breathing, Percy Jackson.”

He swallowed, cutting through the binding at your ankles. “Glad you’re still here, B.”

You collected your backpack and dug straight for a bottle of water, sipping slowly as Grover and Nico were released. Casting the bottle away into your bag, you stood to build up the barbecue again, and offered the last packs of burgers to the gods as a thanks for helping Percy actually get a good shot…and not somehow shooting you, instead (which he had nearly done, once before).

Nico said Eurytion should be tied up, and Grover agreed on the grounds that his dog had tried to kill you all. Murder wasn’t in your books, and you didn’t want to become a subject of interest, but the old man had done nothing while you cooked under the sun and was going to allow you to be handed over to Luke. So…something had to be done.

“Why don’t we just…” you thought, “I don’t know, actually. Could just tie him and make a run for it before he breaks free?”

“Or we could contact Chiron?” Suggested Grover. “Maybe he could do something about this?”

You waved him off. “Chiron would be too nice.”

Percy raised his brows. “And just tying some up is isn’t being too nice?”

“Alright! I’m just saying, murder is a bit far. He isn’t completely guilty. He didn’t really do anything to us.”

“Didn’t do anything for us, either,” retorted your friend. Percy flicked his hair from his face, sweaty and sun-kissed.

Nico gasped with an idea. “We could kill him, and then I’ll go and judge him in the Underworld.”

You clicked your fingers, pointing at Nico. “Ha ha, that’s not what we’re gonna do.”

“Look,” breathed Percy, pocketing Riptide-now-pen. He held out a hand to Eurytion as he spoke. “How long will Geryon take to reform and come back?”

“Couple hundred years,” the farmhand shrugged. “He ain’t one of those quick reformers.”

“Oh, thank you Zeus,” you mumbled. The sky rumbled, perfectly clear.

“You said you died for him in the past, didn’t you? How’d that happen?”

Eurytion explained his immortality, chosen way back when in his half-blood era. Percy stood beside you leaning on the fencing, raising his hand to shield his bright eyes from the blinding sun. In turn, his shadow blocked you, dimming the feel of burning on your face.

“You can change things ‘round here,” offered Percy, “be nice to the animals, not selling them. If we leave you here, you’ve got to stop trading with the Titans.”

Eurytion thought about it hard, and long. He sat silent, just pondering, until eventually he nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Hey, if you get the animals on your side, maybe when Geryon comes back, he’ll be working for you. Tables—turned.”

Eurytion hummed, chuckling low in his throat. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he grinned. He waved off in the distance. “Now go. I haven’t had peace and quiet in years. And the girl looks like she needs a hospital. Seriously, you look sick.”

“That’s rude.”

“You’re not gonna stop us?” Grover pushed away from his seat. You leaned your elbow on his shoulder.

“Hell no.”

Despite his calm, laidback demeanour, you couldn’t help feeling suspicious. Raising your bottle to your warm cheeks, cooling them a little, you asked the question stuck on your mind. “He said somebody paid for our safe passage. The only person I can think of down here who could have done so would be Hera. She met us in the maze. She gave us some not-so-helpful advice. You seen her anywhere?”

Eurytion shrugged. “I don’t know what he was talking about. And I ain’t seen any gods round here, lady.”

“What about Luke, and his army? Did you actually tell them we’re here?”

He scoffed with humour. “Did I hell. We were waiting until after the barbecue. So to answer your indirect question, missus, they don’t know about Mr. Nico.”

The boy himself glared right at you with such passion it almost physically burned. Two options were here and two only.

“You can come with us and get out of here,” you offered. “Or you can stay on the ranch for a while. Either way you’d be quite safe.”

Nico’s face warped to one of fury. His skinny fists clenched at his sides. “I’m not going anywhere with you! Safe? What do you know about being safe? You got my sister killed!”

You practically saw red. Shoving your bag into Percy’s fumbling arms, you leaned down to face Nico, who ground his teeth loudly. “Alright, you little shit—let’s get one thing straight before we go anywhere: I did not get your sister killed. I’ve thought long and hard about it, and ultimately I’ve decided that Bianca had her own brain, and her own free will. I didn’t make her do anything, and I didn’t push her. It was a tragic accident, okay?”

“Nico,” Percy stood beside you, laying a warm hand on your shoulder and urging you back from the kid who didn’t move. “She’s right. Please believe her. Believe us. None of this was anybody’s fault. Staying here would be fine, you don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to. But if Kronos finds out about you, he’ll take you, and he’ll do anything to get you on his side. It won’t be good, Nico, trust me.”

Nico turned his face away. “I’m not on anyone’s side. And I’m not scared of any of this.”

“You really should be. Bianca wouldn’t want any of this.”

He turned back. Nico’s eyes swam with tears, and you felt a little bad for popping off. “If you knew my sister, you know she’d want to come back! If you cared about her, you’d help me to bring her back.”

“A soul for a soul, right?”

“Yes!”

Percy looked troubled. “But if you didn’t want B, and you didn’t want me, then who?”

“I’m not explaining anything to either of you!” He exclaimed. When a tiny tear tread down his cheek, Nico raised his hand to wipe it away aggressively. “I’m going to bring her back. She’s my sister. I need to…I need her.” He rubbed his eyes viciously.

You deflated. Nico tried to look brave, and act older than he was, but his eyes were rimmed with red as he rubbed at them, and he choked on his tears. All of a sudden you wanted nothing more than to sit him down and talk to him, apologise for shouting when he was so upset. You wanted to kick yourself for acting impulsively, and shouting at a child as they cried. At fifteen years old, you should have known better. You reminded yourself terribly then of your father.

“Why don’t we ask Bianca what she wants?”

Nico’s face stilled. “I’ve tried,” he said miserably. “She won’t answer.”

“Try again,” shrugged Percy. A cold breeze shocked you, suddenly. In the distance, storm clouds were rolling in out of a perfectly sunny day…. “I have a feeling she’ll answer with me here.” He sounded very confident in that, and for what reason?

“Why would she?” Asked Nico.

“Because she’s been sending me messages,” Percy shifted on his feet at the sudden onslaught of confused looks. “I’m sure she has. She’s been warning me of what you’re doing. She wanted me to protect you.”

Nico wiped his eyes furiously. “That’s impossible.”

“Why is it?” Percy offered. “Besides, didn’t you say you’re not afraid? Let’s try it. We’ll need a lot of food, and a pit. You got anything like a grave around here?”

—

The grave happened to be dug especially by yourself and Grover. You never were one for gardening, and you find yourself slacking towards the end of the grave-digging.

“Come on,” urged Grover, sweaty and tired. “Just—we can do this. We’ve got this. Positive thinking. Deep breath in…”

You want to tell Grover that positive thinking won’t influence positive actions, because your limbs feel like lead. But together you finish the grave, and your friends pull you out of it. You waited until dark, the five of you and the dog, to call on the dead. With crates of root beer at the ready, Nico paced back and forth, anxious. You sat at the edge of the grave and dangled your legs in, exhausted beyond belief. Every now and then you had to kick away a bug. Grover sat on his heels, sleeping on the crates of root beer.

“Minos should be here by now!” Came Nico’s tiny voice, his dark eyes full of worry. The moon was high and full and bright. Percy’s infinite gray streak shone in the light, a patch among dark, dark hair. “It’s dark enough. It’s late enough…”

“Maybe he got lost,” suggested Percy. Nico glared furiously.

Percy crouched beside you and clapped you on the shoulder, digging his fingers in as a means to try and show you he was there. Maybe he knew you well enough by now to know you were getting irritated and agitated, waiting and tired and forcing your eyes to stay open.

Little Nico grew fed up himself, and wrenched a bottle of root beer from the crate, pouring it into the pit. Grover jerked away, and began helping. With food in a pile from the forgotten barbecue, Nico’s hands dashed out hungrily, and threw them into the pit too, chanting in Ancient Greek. To anyone else, the sudden chill of the night air and the aura that settled with Nico’s chanting might have been terrifying, or uncomfortable. You found the grim ordeal that was summoning the dead to be a rather interesting situation. Something satisfying in raising what once was. A reminder that things never truly died.

It didn’t take long for someone to come forward. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the right someone.

A dark shade of blue, a thin and whispery figure that mirrored who it was once, kneeled at the edge of the grave and reached in. The image somewhat shimmered, and when you looked hard enough, features showed through; deep-set eyes, hardened and somewhat angry; facial features showing crows feet around the eyes, dark brows…

“Minos!” Yelled Nico, suddenly on guard. He brought forth his sword, aimed at the ghost. “What are you doing?!”

“My apologies,” he said, though there wasn’t a hint of sorry in there. Slowly, the ghost’s image grew a bit more real, more colorful. “The sacrifice seemed too good to leave be. Almost in solid form—it’s nice to see myself again.”

“You are disrupting the Ritual! Leave, now!”

Minos paid him no mind. You’d long since jumped away from the edge of the grave, and joined Percy’s side, but something about the ghost ignited in you a want to take Nico’s sword and run the loser through with it. He turned to the two of you, running his eyes in a way that had you almost wretching.

“Percy Jackson!” He hummed. “My, my. The sons of Poseidon never seem to get any better.”

A rude and untrue comment, because you’d seen old images of Greek heroes, and Percy was the best by a million. Not that you’d say that out loud, or anything.

Percy had a lot more self-control than you did in the moment, because he simply took a deep breath, and said, “We’re looking for Bianca. Get lost.”

“Do you really believe Daedalus will help you?” Minos taunted, tilting his head. Nico had begun chanting again, kneeling at the edge of the pit with Grover kneeling dutifully at his side, taking care. “He cares nothing for you, half-bloods! You certainly cannot trust him. He’s cursed by the gods, and guilty of murder. You want somebody like that on your side?”

“Who did he kill?” Asked Percy.

“Don’t change the subject!” Minos spat, a confirmation that he was talking bull, really. “Stop hindering Nico. Don’t persuade him to abandon his goals!”

“We’re helping Nico,” you touched your dagger tucked away in the pocket of your pants. “He’s a child. Leave him alone.”

The ghost settled by Nico’s ear, leaning down to mutter. Nico visibly flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t listen to them, Nico. Let me protect you, not them. I’ll turn them to madness as I did the others. Just say the word.”

If Minos wasn’t already dead, you swore, you’d have killed him there and then.

“Was it you?” Barked Percy. “Did you hurt Chris Rodriguez?”

Minos rolled his eyes lazily, turning around to face Percy. He got in real close to his face; Percy’s arm shot out in front of you and urged you backwards, away from the vile ghost. “The maze is my property,” he hummed. Percy refused to back away. “Those who intrude on it deserve madness.”

Nico turned furious, whether at Minos’s lecturing, or his interrupting. Either way, he turned to the ghost and ran him through with his sword. “Go away, Minos! Leave us!” His voice turned sad and desperate, like he was tired of this too. “Bianca! Come on!”

It was heart-wrenching, watching Nico beg for his dead sister. It wasn’t fair.

But she’d heard him. Bianca came forth, a silvery wisp of light from the dark trees in the distance, growing closer. You didn’t feel wary of her, and Percy dropped his sword, Nico backed away to give her space, and Grover shuffled away from the edge as Bianca knelt to accept the offering in the pit. When she got to her feet, she was a solid hue of silvery-blue form, the image of herself in life. It was like the chatter grew quiet, the chaos turned silent, when Bianca smiled sadly at her brother. Nico had grown still, and pale.

He wasn’t the first one she spoke to, though. “Hello, Percy,” said Bianca, her voice like a lullaby. Her body flickered like the stars would, before it stilled.

“Bianca…” One look at Percy had you reaching for his hand, clasping it between both of yours. He was choked up. You didn’t blame him one bit—you hadn’t known Bianca well at all, and she’d killed herself in the process of saving you all, but even seeing her again like this had your throat burning. “I’m—I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Percy. I made my choice.” Somehow, she seemed older, calmer, and a whole lot more at peace, as if this didn’t phase her and her death was simply an article she’d read in a paper and let pass over her, at the back of her mind. “I don’t regret it, either.” Her eyes, a mirror of Nico’s own, fell on you. What did you look like to her, you wondered later? Holding back your own teary eyes the way Percy did.

She turned to face her brother quickly, and his name fell from her lips. She turned sad.

“Oh, Nico.” She raised a hand to cover her mouth. “You’ve gotten so tall.”

“Why didn’t you answer me any sooner!” He exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to find you for months!”

“I was hoping you’d give up, Nico. Please give up.”

Heartbroken, Nico reached for her, but his hand passed right through. “Give up?…I’d never!”

“I need you to do this, Nico. Trust Percy. Trust her.”

“No! She let you die! They’re not our friends!”

Bianca’s ghostly hand reached out to touch Nico’s cheek, but she fizzled out too quickly, and never made contact with him. “You must listen to me now, because this is important. Holding grudges is bad for children of Hades. It’s our fatal flaw, and you must forgive.”

“I can’t. I’ll never.”

Bianca struggled, exhaled. Her eyes betrayed every feeling in her body—anguish, anger, sadness. “Percy has been worried for you, Nico. I let him see what you were up to so that he could help you. You understand, don’t you?”

“It was you, then,” shuddered Percy. “You were sending me those messages.”

Bianca nodded softly. “I was.”

Nico demanded her attention. “No, listen!” He screamed and went to grab at her again. “Don’t help him! Help me! This isn’t fair!”

Bianca kneeled to be face-to-face with Nico. “You’re so close to the truth now, Nico. Believe me. It isn’t them you’re angry at; it’s me. And it’s okay to be angry, do you understand? You’re allowed to be upset—”

“No!” He heaved a great cry.

“You’re mad because I left you, to join the Hunters. And you’re so angry because I died and left you here. It wasn’t my intention, and I’m sorry.” Bianca’s voice turned thick with emotion. “But you must try to accept this, now. I cannot come back. And you must stay with them.” She nodded at you and Percy.

“I just want you back,” Nico sobbed. Bianca, on her knees, looked as if in a great deal of pain. She swallowed hard, and her voice was shaky.

“You can’t have that, Nico. This is how it has to be. And one day, we’ll be reunited again properly. Trust me. Believe in that. I’m never too far away, even when you can’t reach me. But for now, you have to let me go. Can you do that for me, Nico? You’re so strong…you’re so brave.” She turned suddenly to look over her shoulder at something the rest of you couldn’t see. “I must go now. Your powers are attracting unwanted attention. I have to go back.”

“Wait!” A terrible, pained cry ripped from Nico’s throat. “Please don’t go!” He heaved. “Please stay! Don’t leave me here!”

“I love you, Nico.”

You understand Bianca then, and her decision. It was why you dropped Percy’s warm hand and took up Nico’s cold, limp one. He heaved and cried, and didn’t protest when you lay your free hand on the side of his head, and gently pulled him to you. You raised your gaze from Nico’s teary, reddened eyes, squeezed tightly shut, to Bianca’s mirrored gaze. A single, shiny tear trailed down her translucent face, and you tried to convey one last message: Nico would not be alone.

She nodded slowly, and sniffled once. Getting to her feet, Bianca managed a sad smile, and lowered her eyes to Nico once more. He was the last thing she saw, as she trailed out of the mortal world for the final time. Bianca di Angelo simply faded away.

Just because she’d told him to trust you, didn’t mean he trusted you right away. That night, Nico sat out on the porch alone, talking to somebody that wasn’t there, crying to himself. You’d tried to talk to him, but had no luck. Nico demanded to be left alone, so you left him. When you returned two hours later, he’d fallen asleep on the bench, a hand tucked under his cheek. Percy dug out a blanket from one of the bedrooms upstairs, and you’d covered Nico over as the night air grew chilly. Your heart felt heavy, but the day’s trials didn’t prevent you from falling asleep quickly. The boys took the sofas downstairs, and you picked a spot at the bay window with a comforter and pillows. Sleep took you the second you laid down your head.

Your mother decided it was a good time to pop up and say hello, apparently.

You recognised the setting immediately as New York’s Public Library. Beyond the windows lining either two walls, the sky was black as could be, no stars or anything showing through. The lights and the slightly dusty chandeliers on the ceiling of the grand roof were golden, more yellow than usual, and the tables stretching the length of the hall were empty as could be, the dark stretch of tile down the middle aisle echoing your footsteps the further you walked.

At the end of the wall, standing beneath the clock small in the grand wall, was a tall lady, casual as could be in jeans and a pretty sweatshirt. This didn’t defer her from wearing a sword in a scabbard at her hip. Long, light hair was tied back in a practical bun, tight and secure. In her hands was a heavy book, and her brilliant gray eyes scanned it furiously. She didn’t look up from it until you’d paused at her side, peering up at the taller woman, admiring her. Strange, how the gods technically had no DNA, and yet you were her mirror image. The same jawline, the same nose, definitely the same eyes. She was pretty, really pretty, and she carried herself with confidence.

It would have been nice to be acknowledged, however similar you were.

“Mom?” You voiced into the quiet library air.

“Chapter eighteen of The Iliad—what do you know of it?”

You raise your eyebrows, curiously. “I don’t know off the top of my head, exactly. There’s a fight over Patroclus’s body, isn’t there? Real dramatic, like. They’re worried about going to fight the Trojans. Achilles worries about the outcome of Patroclus going out to join the fight.”

“Do you notice any similarities between this and our life?” She quips. Your mom huffed at something she read, and snapped the book shut. The cover was battered leather, the title almost rubbed away. It was old, but no dust rose from it.

You shrug, and feel somewhat nervous. “We’re history repeating itself?” You offer. “Is this to do with Bianca, last night? The fight over what happened to her, fighting over what she wanted for her end?”

Mom hummed, and threw the book over her shoulder. You had a sudden desire to catch it, but as you went to grab it, as it hit your hands, heavy as hell, it disappeared, as though she’d never thrown a thing. Your mother turned to watch you, bringing your brows together, spinning in a circle to look for this damn book like a stupid dog chasing its tail.

“The fight for life is always happening,” said mom, factually. “What happened to Bianca di Angelo was a negligible accident. She could have been saved.”

Frozen, you shakily exhaled. Gray met the mirror image.

“She could have been saved, but it was her destiny. You understand, don’t you, daughter? That what is meant to be is meant to be. So even though you could have saved her life one way or another, she was supposed to die.”

You scoff, and surprise yourself at the burning in your eyes. “People aren’t supposed to just die, mom. When their time comes, when they’re old, then sure. Not like this.”

“Was it not Bianca’s time? Who decides when it is right to die?”

“What’s the point of this?” You snap. “Did you bring me here just to take a dig at me?”

“Everybody has their time. I’m here to tell you to your friend that he should stop meddling in things. Leave things well alone.”

“Great advice. After we’ve sorted things. Bit late to the party.”

“Not entirely.” She tilted her head. “Before I go, just one thing—tell Percy Jackson to let the dead rest, when the time comes.”

“That’s ominous.”

“That’s life,” mom hummed. “I’ll let you go, now. The boy is trying to wake you up.”

When you come to, Percy is knelt beside you. Sunrise is in your eyes, and Nico is shouting downstairs. You gather your things, and prepare to make your way back into the maze.

—

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