#austin butler fluff

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Masters of the Air Fanfic

As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is

Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another

Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will

Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe

Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language

Word count: a monstrous 12k

They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.

Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.

Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.

Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.

Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.

Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.

You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.

“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.

Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.

It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.

Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.

You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.

Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.

“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.

If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.

“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“

“-I don’t have the authority-“

“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.

“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.

-Americans and their nicknames.

“Yeah.”

“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.

“It��s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”

“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.

“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”

“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.

“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”

“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”

“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”

“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”

“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.

“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.

He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”

You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.

“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.

“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”

Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.

Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”

“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.

“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”

“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.

“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”

The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.

“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”

“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.

“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“

“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”

“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”

You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“

You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“

“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”

“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”

“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”

“And now the texas girl has-“

“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”

You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.

“Well, no-“

“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”

His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.

There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.

You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.

Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.

There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.

Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.

“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”

You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.

On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.

You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.

“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.

Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.

It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.

“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.

There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.

“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.

“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“

“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”

“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.

“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.

“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.

The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”

“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”

“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”

“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”

“Where’s that?” he asked.

“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.

That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.

“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.

“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.

“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”

“To the Poles?”

“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”

“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”

“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.

“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”

“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”

“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”

“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.

“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”

You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.

“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.

“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”

“Sweet Jesus.” he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”

“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.

“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.

“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.

“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.

You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”

You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.

“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”

His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.

He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”

“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“

“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”

“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”

“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”

You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.

Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.

Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.

Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.

Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.

It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.

Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.

Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.

“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.

“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.

“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?

“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.

“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.

“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.

“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“

-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.

He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.

“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.

After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.

“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.

He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”

After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.

“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”

“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”

“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”

“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.

He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.

“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.

“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”

“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”

Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.

“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”

Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.

To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.

And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.

The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.

“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.

If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“

“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.

“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”

“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”

“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.

“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”

“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.

“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”

“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”

“None.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.

Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.

War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.

“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”

His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.

“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.

Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.

“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.

It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.

These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.

Only to kiss you.

To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.

One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.

You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.

“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:

-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”

“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.

“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.

“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.

“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.

“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.

“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.

“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.

If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.

If you’d have only known.

It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.

The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.

The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.

Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.

In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”

You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.

However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.

As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.

My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.

“There are things of which I may not speak;

There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

Come over me like a chill:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,

As they balance up and down,

Are singing the beautiful song,

Are sighing and whispering still:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.

Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.

Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.

“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.

Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.

Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.

“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.

That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?

“I felt ‘em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”

It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.

Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.

Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.

A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.

He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.

“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”

“I know.” he agreed miserably.

You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”

“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.

He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.

“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.

That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.

“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.

If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.

That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.

“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”

“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.

“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” you agreed.

“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”

“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.

“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.

“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.

“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.

“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.

“No?”

“No.”

“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.

“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.

“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.

“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.

“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”

“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.

Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.

“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.

“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.

“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.” he concluded.

With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.

“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.

“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”

It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.

“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”

He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.

“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.

“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.

You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.

“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”

Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”

“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.

The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”

You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.

“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.

One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋

[sweet-fading-summer-love]

Liar Liar

Just a little Protective!Austin Butler x Wife!Reader blurb

Summary - After a rather unpleasant encounter with a familiar neighbor at your local supermarket, you come home to your husband, Austin, teary-eyed and shaken up. He handles it, and afterward, he handles you.

Warnings - Mid-Late 60s AU, vague mention of unspecified sexual harassment/assault, swearing, hinted at violence, protective Austin crying, angst, Austin is a bit insensitive here, Austin is set to be a morally grey person outside of his love for you

WC - 2k

Author's Note - So I haven't used this account in forever mostly because I haven't felt like writing much lately, I've been lacking inspiration, but I was scrolling through pinterest and saw that picture of Austin, and good god. Anyways now we're here, enjoy. This was also supposed to have a very smutty ending but it felt too random the way I was formatting it so I tossed it, so this ending is random and abrupt, but again it's just a blurb

The sound of Austin's tongue clicking at the two orange cats that wormed their way through his legs and around his feet was cut off by a wince as he knicked his thumb on the ridged edge of the cat food can.

Normally you'd feed the cats just before starting dinner, but you'd gone to the grocery store over half an hour before to grab a few ingredients. Austin didn't mind feeding the cats. Although he pretended to think they were a menace to the home, truth be told he didn't mind the cats as long as you weren't around, when you were around he'd get jealous of the love you showed the cats, almost like a child.

"Damnit…"

He mumbled softly before bringing the knick up to his mouth to suck the blood up. He could hear you already nagging him about using soap and water, you were very passionate about hygiene and health. He could also hear you nagging him about using a knife to open the can instead of the state-of-the-art electric can opener you bought at a Home Show. He hated when you went to those things, he feared you would realize the poor quality of life that his job provided the two of you with, seeing all that gorgeous furniture while your own was hand-me-down from his parents and going on 13 years old this June.

The cats let out a choir of meows that were beginning to overpower the tune that Austin had playing on the record player, Bring It On Home to Me, Sam Cooke. Austin still wasn't quite over his death, so Cooke had kept the both of you company many mornings and nights as Austin's way to honor him. Austin sighed softly,

"Alright alright, it's coming you glutinous bastards"

He used his uncut hand to peel back the rest of the can's top, then after walking to the cat bowls, he, in a very unceremonious manner began beating and battering the open end of the can into the poor plastic bowls. After a dozen or so pounds (one of which may have been from the angry neighbors in the apartment below), the food was dished out and the cats were happy as clams.

He tossed the can into the sink, confident you would sort through it later as you'd been getting quite involved in some sort of environmental shenanigans with those hippies which involved reusing cans for art or other projects. Austin didn't like you around them truthfully.

As Austin took a quick swig of a bottle of brandy he heard the front door open and close. Not an unusual occurrence. If you went out the door, of course, you'd come back in the door. What was unusual was the lack of that sing-song voice of yours. There was no, "I'm home!!", no "Baby guess what?!", no "Where are my pretty kitties?" in reference to both Austin and the actual cats, there was nothing. And it was eerie, making Austin for a moment furrow his brows and crane his neck to see if it was you.

He smiled softly at the sight of your figure, you were turned away from him, a bag in each arm, trying to lock the door, it's something you'd done many times before, but this time your arms were too shaky to keep it all together, and with a clatter and crash of glass one of the bags fell from your arms, landing on the floor, making you jump back in shock.

The noise had surprised Austin as he flinched at the sudden ruckus, quickly rounding the counter, letting your pet name "Babydoll", slip through his lips in worry as he did so. Thankfully he noticed whatever glass jar or bottle you'd bought at the market had broken in the bag so there weren't shards strewn about, his rough hand landed on your wrist to turn you around, but you'd jumped and turned at the sensation, not expecting him to touch you, or be so close to you.

"Woah, woah, babydoll what's the matter?"

At his concerned tone and furrowed eyebrows of confusion your face had crumpled and you let out a child-like cry, ugly in all its manner, but as raw as can be. Your arms stretched out to him as your face continued to contort in a way Austin had not yet seen. Now it wasn't unusual for you to cry, you had always been a bit of a crybaby truthfully, but you hadn't cried so helplessly for as long as Austin could remember.

"Baby? Honey, what's wrong?"

He kept trying to push you away far enough to make eye contact with you, but before he could you kept curling your head back into his chest or shoulder. "What happened?" His voice was stern but there were hints of sympathy that only you could detect as you continued to cry into his chest.

"T-thomas…"

Austin's forehead wrinkled at the name in confusion. Thomas was a tenant in the same apartment building, you and Austin had met him a few times before and he had confided in Austin about his issues regarding how unsteady his job was, how much he'd been spending on alcohol, and the kind of dark conflicting thoughts he'd had. All those things combined and the fact that Thomas' wife often sported a bruise after the entire apartment building was subjected to listening to their arguments had given Austin enough reason to tell you to stay away from him.

"What's he got to do with this Baby?"

With your silence and sniffles being his only current answer, Austin's imagination goes wild, and those soft pillowy lips thin into a line of concentration. His rough hands which have only handled your body carefully, begin to forcefully latch onto the sides of your head, pulling your head back to finally look him in the eye. It felt like your skull might soon cave in and you weren't sure if it was the overwhelming feelings of the moment or if he was just using that much force. You knew very well it could've been the latter.

Your lip quivers as you look up at his blank face. He let out a shudder of a breath and asked with a jittery, almost sinisterly excitable look in his eye, "Did Tommy touch you? Did he lay a hand on you like he does his wife? He hit you?"

You attempted to shake your head only to feel his hold on your head grow tighter as he edged his face closer to yours. As he stared at you through those blank glassy eyes, like he didn't have a clear, coherent thought behind them, he asked another question.

"What did he do?"

The eye contact was getting to be too much, you felt like too much of a wreck to answer, so you closed your eyes, and with the closing of your lids, tears slid down your cheeks simultaneously. And that was enough of an answer for Austin. His voice was gravelly, as he mumbled, "That fucking-"

Before he could finish his statement, he'd paced back into the kitchen, pulling a drawer open roughly, you could hear by the clatter it made that it was either the silverware drawer or the knife drawer. It didn't matter which, in Austin's state he could do a decent amount of damage with either.

Finally, you regained your voice, "Austin…" but it was too late, he was already about to pace right by you. But you grabbed his wrist with both hands, "Austin..!" He turned to look at you and had easily released himself from your grip, instead now he held your wrist and pulled you over to the couch.

By now your tears were from both your experience with Thomas but also your worry for Austin. You didn't want him doing something that would land him in jail. You knew that he had been the kind of man in the past to run with the wrong crowd and he already did have a criminal record, which is part of the reason his job has such shitty pay. They say old habits die hard but you didn't want another man to die with it.

Your voice was quivery and weeping as you put two shaky hands on his free hand, pleading rather than asking, "Y-you're not gonna kill him, are you? You're not gonna touch him right? Oh please Austin it's not a big deal, I don't want you to-"

"Stay here. I don't want you to go off and get yourself into more fucking trouble"

Austin paced to the hook holding his brown jacket and quickly shrugged it over his white tank, zipping it before making his way out the door. He didn't even spare you a look before slamming the door to the apartment shut.

You felt hurt by the statement, it wasn't something he'd normally say, and he didn't tend to speak to you like that. But you could reassure yourself that it's just because he's so worried about you. Austin tended to be a little mean when he was overwhelmed, angry, sad, or worried. But you knew to listen to his command in this state.

For the next hour or so you had calmed yourself down and had tucked yourself into the corner of the worn, plush sofa. Your cats Marlon and Kick were cuddled up to you with Marlon by your feet and Kick on your lap. And just as you were beginning to nod off you heard the lock click and door open. The apartment was quite small so your living room and kitchen happened to also be your apartment entry. You turned your head and saw Austin looking cautious as he entered the apartment.

Whenever he yelled at you he had that cautious look before approaching you, it was cute and boyish. It made you forget he ever yelled. As he walked closer the dim, yellow lighting of the living room lamp gave you a sight of a reddish, brownish color stained onto the fabric of his brown jacket, it wasn't in large splashes, it was more so a little spatter on the two the sleeves and over the front center. Your stomach dropped as you questioned, "Aus, is that.."

"It's my own Honey, it was a fair fight, fists only"

He said that as if it would make you feel better, well it did a little, knowing it was less likely for him to have killed the guy and get put away for life. Austin shrugged off the jacket and tossed it into the laundry room which was more of a closet really, before walking over to sit on the sofa next to you. His white tank was completely unharmed, still a pristine white.

You looked him over with a bit of worry, he spoke lowly, "Thomas isn't gonna bother you again, it- It's all handled, Baby". You hummed appreciatively and maneuvered your body to cuddle into his side. "Thank you, Honey…" He hummed in response while staring at the pictures on the wall in front of the two of you, he leaned his head onto yours which rested on his shoulder.

You then asked,

"What happened to the knife?"

He answered while continuing to look straight ahead,

"Ah, I dropped it, don't know why I took it. I think I lost it somewhere in the stairwell, I'll go looking for it tomorrow."

Your eyes fell to his lap, the way his calloused hands lay so limply. You didn't believe him. You knew when your husband was lying. And you knew when he said that the blood was his that he was lying, after all his face looked clean and smooth aside from his 5-o'clock shadow. Didn't have a bruise, some sort of swelling, or a scratch on him.

His voice had pulled you out of the storm that your thoughts were developing as he mumbled, "I love you."

You grabbed his hand and smiled, "I love you."

As you held it you noticed a little itty bitty cut on his thumb, not any sort of cut from a fight.

"What happened to your thumb?"

Austin peered down at it and shrugged, "Cut it opening a can"

Your eyebrow quirked as you looked up at him, shoulders going limp in defeat as you nagged, "I told you to stop using knives to open the cat food, why do you think I bought that electric can opener-"

"Why can't we just have a hand-held can opener??"

[andy-15-07]

Beneath the Veil of Fate

masterlist ! pairing Feyd-Rautha x reader

Dune Masterlist

The desert sands of Arrakis stretched endlessly beneath the harsh sun, bearing witness to a clash that would shape the fate of the universe. Beneath the scorching heat, Y/N stood on the sidelines, her heart torn between loyalty and love as she watched her husband, Feyd Rautha, engage in combat with the legendary Paul Muad'Dib.

Spectators gathered around the arena, their voices hushed in anticipation as the two warriors faced off. Feyd, fueled by his thirst for power, exuded confidence as he prepared to confront his adversary. Paul, the mysterious and enigmatic figure known as the Kwisatz Haderach, stood tall and unwavering, his eyes betraying a depth of knowledge far beyond his years.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as the battle commenced, her gaze fixed on the swirling dust kicked up by the combatants' movements. She knew that regardless of the outcome, the consequences would be dire. But she never imagined that her heart would be torn between the man she loved and the cause he fought for.

As the fight raged on, it became increasingly clear that Feyd was outmatched. Paul's movements were fluid and precise, his every strike calculated to exploit his opponent's weaknesses. Despite Feyd's best efforts, he found himself unable to gain the upper hand against the formidable Muad'Dib.

Y/N's heart ached as she watched Feyd falter, his once-confident demeanor giving way to desperation. She knew that he was fighting not just for himself, but for the future of House Harkonnen and all they had built on Arrakis. But even as she wished for his victory, she couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Feyd, be careful!" Y/N called out, her voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. Her words were a desperate plea, a silent prayer for his safety amidst the chaos of battle.

But Feyd seemed not to hear her, his focus consumed by the struggle before him. Every blow he landed was met with a counterstrike from Paul, each one more devastating than the last. Y/N could see the toll it was taking on him, both physically and emotionally, as the battle wore on.

Then, in a moment that seemed to stretch on for eternity, Paul saw his opening. With a lightning-fast movement, he disarmed Feyd and brought him to his knees, his blade poised at his throat.

The crowd erupted into cheers as Paul emerged victorious, his triumph cementing his status as the savior of Arrakis. But for Y/N, there was no joy in the moment, only heartache and despair as she watched her husband defeated before her eyes.

"Feyd…" she whispered, her voice barely a whisper as she rushed to his side. She knelt beside him, her hands reaching out to cradle his face as tears welled in her eyes.

Feyd met her gaze, his own eyes filled with a mixture of pain and resignation. "I'm sorry, my love," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. "I have failed you."

But Y/N shook her head, her heart breaking as she leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead. "No, Feyd," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You haven't failed me. You've always fought with honor and courage, and I am proud to stand by your side, no matter what."

And in that moment, as they faced defeat together, Y/N knew that their love was stronger than any conflict, their bond unbreakable in the face of adversity. Though the battle may have been lost, their love would endure, a beacon of hope in the darkness of uncertainty.

[your-nanas-house]

"Mr. Coleman said that..."

◇ Pairing: stepdad!Austin Butler X stepdaughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: kind of dark, SMUT, sessions, therapy (invented by me, dunno if it exists), pervy, stepdad x stepdaughter dynamic.

◇ Summary: Austin gets bit lost in the feelings that the "bond" therapy gifted him.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. It took me so long, thanks for the kind anon that reminded me what Austin fic I wanted to publish. I think it's the very first Austin fic that I wrote... 🫣.

A small click and the front door of his attic was open, allowing him to enter and finally drop down the bag he carried all day around... plus the new script.

Austin had been out all day and he honestly felt all those hours on his shoulders other than his mood. He really was tired but happy, since he was about to see his little princess.

As his feet lead him to the open kitchen he could already hear her soft humming, which informed him that she was busy entertain herself with something

"Hi stepdaddy, how was your day?" Her sweet voice beamed after his footsteps popped her little bubble of calm. She didn't look upset or annoyed when seeing him... which was a good thing since they had some issues when her mom left them both.

Issues that with a bit of father and daughter therapy should had quickly disappear... or so the man, who was following the process, had told them the first meeting.

"Bit tiring but... it was good. How about yours? What did you do while I was out?" Austin's low raspy voice asked as his hand removed carefully his airports before his coat so that he could focus his attention on her completely.

She was still in her cute pajamas, a silly one that she had begged him to buy her as soon as she finished watching one of the latest movies of his... 'Elvis' 2022. Reason because her pants were of a baby pink filled with pictures of the king, matched by a baggy shirt with the quote 'Keep Calm and Love Elvis Presley'.

"Bit boring, studied a bit... and nothing much, I cleaned the house though" Y/n informed him after taking a big sip of her tea, humming softly when the older man's arms wrapped around her torso.. hugging her close to himself.

"So sweet of you" he murmured in her ear, tickling her with his short beard as his face snuggled in the crock of her neck more so to make her chuckle before pressing his lips against hers for a quick 'hello' kiss.

His head now resting on top of hers calmly.

"Also!.. I need your help" Y/n hummed out, putting down her cup as her heart beat faster in her chest.. butterflies forming in her stomach at her stepdad's cuddles.

She could already feel his chest vibrating softly as he replied with his voice which became even more lower that it used to be due to the time and work.

"With what, kid?" His big hand ruffled her hair playfully while his body moved to rest against the table of the kitchen so that his beautiful eyes could stare at her as she talked.

She really was so cute like that, her hair bit messy because of him and the glasses she put on just when she used her laptop so to protect them. It seemed quite domestic... bit too domestic since his body started to react a bit, aroused by the innocent scenario.

And the cute mad face she made every time he would tease or annoy her, was so cute but also such a strong turn on for him... expecially those pouty pretty lips, now covered by a watermelon lip gloss.

"Do you remember what Mr. Coleman suggested?" Y/n asked casually, glancing at him with the face he grow to know as 'the testing face'; a serious but funny expression that she always used when she wanted to see if he remembered something or if he forgot about it.

"Of what, sweetheart?" Austin replied with her same tone as he put down the script, pouring himself a glass of water before sitting on the counter to look in her direction. She was giving him her back but he could already see the pouty face accompanied by a small snort of disappointment since he didn't remember.

"The bonding exercises, Baba!" She whined out, looking at him while scoffing softly at his amused expression. He really knew her too well.

"Of course I remember, baby" Austin lied as he placed his glass on the surface so he wouldn't look her in the eyes without distractions

"He said at least once a week, two is better though..." she repeated what their therapist said to them some weeks ago, her eyes looking at him lazily bit tired of her lonesome day. Even too tired to notice his stare taking her whole in shamefully.

"You know that I'm always free to spend some quality time with you, baby" he rasped out before clearing his throat and finish his water, his body warming up at the mere view of her cute behaviour.

"That's a lie but anyway... Let's start it, hm" the young woman murmured, pecking back as soon as he leaned down to steal a bit of love while picking her up easily and move them on the sofa in the living room where there was more space.

"What were the exercises again?" Austin asked, his hands rubbing soft circles on her hips while his eyes pierced intensely in hers the whole time she explained to him "The 5 senses exercises to feel more connected. Touch.. with the yoga, hearing.. by listening and talking, taste.. by eating together, and.. view.. the stare".

Those were all topics they had to go through in their therapist's opinion.. a way to bond with each other better and share some quality moments as father... even though he wasn't her real dad, and daughter.

"I remember perfectly now... and what was the last one?" He asked while playing with a lock of her hair, smiling slightly when her index finger pressed against his nose while talking "It's the smell... we have to take in our scent... and that should be all. So!... where do we start?" The young woman beamed, getting up from his lap.

The older man really enjoyed seeing her so full of energy and joy, it was addicting.

"Okay, little one, let's start. You can choose with which one we begin".

.

Her choose was quickly and he found himself warming slightly up to start the first step. The Touch.. aka Yoga exercises.

Simple but helpful positions they had to do together to feel the struggles and the moving of their bodies.

"Need to change! Mr. Coleman said that we have to be as bare as possible for this one." The young woman reminded the older man from the other room, busy changing into something to start the exercise and have yoga behind so they could relax.

He said that?, Austin questioned in his mind and raised his eyebrows... he really didn't listen so much when that man spoke with them. He clearly needed to stay more focused in the next sessions.

"You need to change as well!" Her sweet voice urged him as she was now standing in front of him in the set of underwear he gifted her that Christmas. Matching bra and panties which colors were identical to her favourite bun that she had used to tie her hair up.

"Sweet baby Jesus above, you are stunning" he commented, holding himself from just cursing in front of her since he scolded her more than once when some bad words left her pretty mouth. It had became a game of theirs just saying some silly things instead of vulgar language.

"It's the set you gave me!" She informed him with a smile, her hands busy fixing her hair happy and warm to start

"I know, little one" the actor murmured while still staring, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

His body was reacting bit too much for his liking and he started to sweat a bit so he decided to get quickly ready and just move his hands to pull off his shirt and threw it away, exposing his built body to the air so that they could begin with the yoga.

Y/n was the first to lead and help, her smaller frame kept doing her best to keep up and help Austin while ending up most of the time just clinging on him like a koala or bouncing to reach his hands.. way too high for her reach.

It was funny, adorable and relaxing... till the sensations changed when he was the one leading the exercise.

"Baba! You have to follow my body" Y/n explained in a whiny playful voice as her young body bent down in front of him, her ass brushing against his crotch and then pressing lovingly when he moved on her, hugging her hips with his strong arms.

Fucking hot, he thought now that his cock overpowered his brain.

His breath became bit heavier while his hands massaged her flesh, he could have stayed like that all day... with his boner pressed between her firm and round ass cheeks still barely covered by those damn panties.

"Ready for the rhythm? Remember sync to let our bodies connect" she parrot what Mr. Coleman told them, making Austin curse internally since he had forgot about the movements... not that he minded though, since his worries disappeared as soon as her ass hit his half-hard dick.

His hips started to follow, taking the lead unconsciously, grinding his clothed cock against her soft flesh shamelessly.

"You got your phone in your pocket, Baba?" Y/n asked after a while, glancing behind to check on him, yelping softly when he moves her head easily by her chin. Making her look back ahead.

"Mhhm... focus, little one. Sync, remember?" Austin rasped out as his hips increased their rhythm, making her loose the balance she had and end up flat against the floor with him on top.

Her heart was beating fast and she couldn't deny that her panties were getting wet by his movements... she wasn't sure it was part of the exercises but who was her to correct her stepdad.

"You're doing so good, baby. So good" his low voice praised, making her maintain the rhythm and match his when his hips increased the tempo as his big hand, which was on her tummy, helped her continue it.

It was starting to get tired, her breath becoming breathless as she heard him grunting next to her ear.

"Austin, I'm not sure this is part of Mr. Coleman's exercises—" Y/n weakly spoke, letting a broken whine escape her mouth when his little finger pressed roughly against her clothed clit

"It's all part of Mr. Coleman's exercises to bond, baby. And call me like he said you should.. don't you want to make the sessions pay off?" Austin murmured huskily, inhaling deeply while lowering quickly his sweatpants and press his bare, rock-hard angry cock against her ass again, pulling the fabric of her panties so that it was stuck between her ass cheeks like his lenght.

"I said call me like Mr. Coleman said, little one" his tone became more stern as his hand spanked her soft flesh making her jolt

"Sorry, daddy! Sorry" she whined out, moving her ass up so to allow him to continue without interruptions... just like a good girl.

It was twisted but felt so good, so... damn good, with the soft skin of his cock caressing her inner thighs as he made sure to keep them closed so that he could fuck them. Hitting her clit with each thrust.

Her stepdad was dry humping her and she was loving it as much as he was... and she could tell that he was enjoying himself pretty much due to all the noises and praises that escaped his lips.

"Such a good girl! Fuck— fuck, fuck. Little one!" His horsed voice growled in her ear as his body shook against hers before something started to wet her thighs and panties. The young woman didn't had time to check before her own orgasm hit her whole and her back arched, a soft curse, which earned her a harsh spank, escaped her innocent sweet mouth.

"Language, baby... now how about we move to the food now, hm?" Austin suggested while massaging her warm flesh, moving his softening cock away from her shaking thighs.

[angelinajoulie]

At his mercy.

Rating: 18+ MDNI. You read at your own risk.

Pairing: dom!Austin Butler x shy!girlfriend!reader

Summary: Austin fucks you in his ‘The late late show’ suit.

Warnings: NSFW. SMUT. this is PURE FILTH; age gap; austin is definitely a DOM in this (you can't tell me otherwise); swearing; pet names; fingers sucking; oral (m receiving); size kink; praise kink; austin referring to himself as daddy (just twice); unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it); creampie; cockwarming (sorta??).

a/n: English is not my first language, this is the first time I’ve written from Italian to English and after two months of writing and translating this work I really don't know what came out, so please forgive any mistake✨ leave a comment down here and let me know what you think✨

Enjoy!

It's late at night, the lights outside are already out, and the street lamps are the only ones left to light the wet road while everything around is sleeping and waiting for a new day to come. Not a sound, not a noise is bothering the atmosphere outside except for the sweet rustles of trees on the street as a black Range Rover nears the driveway.

Shortly after, the sudden noise of a door opening makes you skip a beat, taking you off-guard and waking you from your sleep. He is back.

Your eyelids open slowly and you instinctively look at the alarm on the nightstand. 1:30 am.

"As usual," you think.

It takes you a little to realize that you fell asleep too early and didn't wait awake for him— as you always do, but you had a very stressful day at college and you couldn't help yourself to give in to the comfy bed beneath you.

So you decide to wait for him to make his way into the bedroom before you can close your eyes again.

You hear him from upstairs while he tosses the keys on the side table at the entrance, then a series of muffled noises follow.

And then, again, silence.

You feel your eyes getting heavy and you know that you'll fall asleep soon. But not without him.

And noticing he's still not gone upstairs yet you decide to get down to him.

You rise from the bed and a breath of wind wraps around your shoulders as soon as the blanket leaves your body, leading you to wear your white satin robe before going downstairs.

Your bare feet meet every cold step unnoticeably, the high temperature difference between the two floors causing you to shrug.

You're searching for him, your eyes are looking at every corner of the living room while waiting to catch his figure until your feet finally touch the ground.

You see him.

Standing in front of the cupboard against the wall, bottle in his hand as he pours himself a large glass of whiskey.

Austin.

He is wearing a navy blue pinstripe suit from Prada that perfectly matches his blue eyes, the jacket left open to reveal a black mesh shirt, half undone and barely covering his toned, tanned chest.

It suits him heavenly.

His eyes look up to meet yours as soon as he feels your presence.

“Hey” he murmurs in a low and raspy voice.

“Hi” you respond and get closer to him, trying to greet him properly.

Seeing you lean in he puts the bottle back in its place and in no time you feel his arm around your waist. Austin lowers his head for his lips to meet yours in a chaste and tender kiss, the first one after an entire day away from each other.

Your hand travels up his spine, reaching the nape of his neck and starting caressing it, your fingers sneaking between his hair gently as you hold yourself closer to his chest. His body is so warm against yours, his warmth filling your heart completely and making you feel safe in the tight grip of his strong arms.

You’ve missed him so much.

The last period has been very exhausting for him, every day passes between interviews, photoshoots and premieres and he's terribly busy, and considering that you too have your things to do with college and all, you're both forced to be apart from each other. But despite all of this, you always try to do your best to support him, following him at the events when possible or watching him on TV, waiting for him until he gets home— like you should've done today too.

Soon your lips move away with a tiny 'pop' and your eyes meet, a shy smile appearing on both of your faces.

“How was your day?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“Great, just a lil tiring” he sighs, caressing your hip gently “have you seen the show?”

You nod without hesitation.

“Of course I did,” a sense of pride overwhelms you seeing him smile slightly at your obviousness “just for you.”

“Really?” he grins, pretending to be surprised as his eyes look down at yours and you nod again.

“Yeah”

“Good girl” he places two of his fingers under your chin, lifting it up for your lips to meet his again in a quick kiss before he pulls away from you and takes the full glass of whiskey in his hand.

You shudder thinking about the pet name.

Good girl...

“And what about you? How was college today?”

Your gaze never leaves him, following each one of his movements while he reaches the couch and takes a seat between the black leather cushions. A shiver runs down your spine, stopping right on your lower stomach. Your mind gets fuzzy, distracting you from his question.

Legs wide apart, broad shoulders resting on the back of the sofa, his right hand on his knee and thigh as the left one brings the edge of the glass towards his mouth, needing a sip. The bitter and yellowish liquid runs down his throat, and his eyes shut just for a second until he swallows it, licking his plump lips after.

You feel yourself throb around nothing at the sight of him manspreading, and your thighs instantly rub together at the thought of every single time you've seen him doing that same thing: eyes closed, lips and tongue wet— not from whiskey.

You don't know why, you don't even know how to explain it to yourself, but seeing him like this sparked something inside you since you saw him on ‘The Late Late Show’ tonight. Something able to keep your mouth shut and your eyes glued to him.

He looks so confident. So dominant. So powerful. Right now, he could move mountains at his pleasure just by lifting a finger if he only wanted to.

And that damn suit... God, you want to sit on his lap so bad.

You'd do it immediately if only you weren't so shy to stand still at your place, merely biting at your lower lip while fantasizing about the mighty man in front of you, a gesture so simple but not enough to go unnoticed— not to him. Not to Austin.

His icy eyes linger on you again and this is the exact moment where you come back to reality and blush.

“What's up?” your awkwardness leads you to open your mouth and talk before you can remember a very important detail.

You still haven't answered his question.

“I asked you” he emphasizes, his tone sharp and deep as he takes in another sip and his tongue runs over his lips to wipe them more slowly and languidly than before, never taking his eyes off of yours “how was college today, angel?”

A mischievous grin appears on his face, the name that always knew how to make your stomach twirl makes you understand everything.

You got caught.

“G-good...” you stutter, coughing slightly as your cheeks are on fire for both arousal and embarrassment in front of that one clear consciousness.

You have a lot on your mind at the moment, a thousand thoughts are running through your head and Austin can read every single one of them.

And you know that he can, you know that he knows what you're thinking about.

Austin knows everything about you.

Because he knows you too well.

He can see from a mile away that something inside you snapped. Your body language is enough to let him know what you want and what you need.

He's tired, the only thing he needs at the moment is to finish his drink, take his clothes off and go to sleep with you, but seeing you wearing nothing but that white silk robe that barely covers your thighs as you bashfully bite your lip, thinking about all the shameless things you want him to do to you, is enough to drive him crazy too.

Because he'll never get enough of you.

He lifts his right hand and two of his fingers gesture you to get close.

“C'mere” his order is like liquid gold for you. You walk towards him without blinking, reaching the couch, stepping in front of him as if you've been waiting to all day.

Austin quickly swallows the last drop of whiskey, leaving the now empty glass on the table before grabbing your wrist and putting you between his spread legs.

His fingers manage to undo the tight bow of your robe, taking it off of you to reveal a lovely black satin nightie under it, one of the many he bought you to make up for the many others he ripped off of your body: soft to the touch, lightweight, with thin stripes and lace hems, short enough to leave your ass exposed.

No doubt that it's his favorite one. You're a goddess in it.

His forefinger traces a line up your thigh and reaches the hem of your nightie, your cheeks reddening as soon as he lifts it up, giving you goosebumps.

Austin feels his cock throb in his pants at the sight.

You aren't wearing panties. As he wished.

“No panties, mh?” you shook your head no, feeling the heat starting to pool right on your bare center and your heart pounding in your chest.

You feel so exposed under his touch, so weak, so small, so vulnerable at the feeling of your skin burning under his lingering hot gaze. Your body is completely at his mercy, poorly covered by that tiny piece of fabric while Austin still has his suit on, fully clothed from head to toe, looking at you like an uncompromising master who's thinking about the right treat for his good submissive. And in the darkest and deepest part of yourself, you're loving it.

You love that he always wants to be in control. You love being controlled by him.

At the moment you just want to follow his rules, please him, worship him, be punished if needed, because you want to be a good girl for him and him only.

“Get on your knees, angel.” and when his order comes, you can do nothing more than obey.

Your knees fall to the floor with a soft thud, hands anchored on his thick thighs as you're face to face with his crotch.

Austin's fingers are under your chin again, a gentle reminder for you to pull your gaze up to his face, forcing you to look straight into his eyes.

His baby blues are darkened, filled with craving and lust as they meet your shy and innocent ones waiting for mercy, for him to choose their fate and what is better for them.

Like an angel at God's feet.

“You're such a good little girl for me, you know this?” his voice gets deeper enough to make you feel soaked as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“So submissive” he praises you in a whisper, his calloused digits moving to caress your cheek, allowing you to surrender to his touch by resting your head on his thigh.

“So responsive” the intense feeling of the cold gold of his rings hits your warm skin and your spine tingles.

His voice is so soft, yet so firm while he praises you that a weak moan leaves your parted lips, Austin taking advantage of it to shove two of his long fingers in your mouth. You know what to do so you embrace them with no hesitation and start sucking, wrapping your lips and tongue around his knuckles as the metallic taste grows strong in your mouth.

“So greedy...”

You are a vision to him, you look so tempting that his hand falls on his crotch to palm himself, his growing erection begging to be freed from his slacks and swallowed up by your throat.

“Bet your pretty little head's just thinking about one thing since I came home, doesn't it?” you nod frantically, his wet digits still in your mouth before he retracts them.

“Use your words.” authority drips from his tone and you sigh.

“Y-yes...” not enough.

“Yes what, angel?” your head lowers again in front of his request but he holds you still in place, grabbing your jaw “Look at me”

“I...” words get stuck in your throat, too shy to let them slip out easily.

“C'mon, don't be shy. Wanna hear you say it” he spurs “what's on your mind?”

Your heart keeps pounding as never before, and at this point, you don't even know how but you say it.

“I want your cock.”

“And where do you want it, angel?” he smirks as he adjusts himself between the cushions, your thighs clenching together to hide the wetness between them.

You love everything about him and the thing you love most is that he's able to read your mind without talking, but right now it seems like he has forgotten about this ability of his own. And you're hating him for this.

Because you know he's doing it on purpose.

He wants to hear your voice.

He wants to hear you beg.

He wants to hear your innocent mouth tell him the dirty things you want from him, the things he knows that make you feel all small and weak.

For this reason you swallow thickly, and gasping with your heart on your sleeve, you answer.

“In m-my mouth.”

“Then take it.” his words are the only green light you needed to put your shyness aside and leave room for the actions you're going to do in silence.

You reach the fly of his trousers with both hands, unzipping it and slipping between the black fabric of his briefs, freeing his cock.

You take it in your hand, he's already hard as it springs free against his stomach, the contact of your fingers against his weak flesh making him gasp.

You feel him. Long, warm and veiny, the tip already reddened and leaking with precum.

Your mouth waters at the sight. You need to make him feel good so bad.

You sit better on your own thighs, adjusting yourself to avoid the feeling of your knees pressing against the carpet before running your hand along his shaft.

Your strokes are slow and gentle, your fingers applying a small amount of pressure, making him breathe heavily.

“Angel...” he's so eager to feel you, the way his hips are bucking up to meet your strokes is silently proving it. So you decide to indulge him.

You lean forward and your lips start kissing his length from the base to the tip. You tease his slit with your thumb before starting to leave kitten licks on his head, feeling his salty taste exploding on your taste buds.

“Mmm, little one...” a deep groan falls from his lips and goes straight to your soaked center, making you shudder in your place “I love feeling your mouth on my cock...”

He seems so much weaker than before, and a strong sense of power washes over you.

“Fuck...” he swears, adjusting the blonde locks falling on his forehead.

The sensation of your warm mouth around his girth already sending him into a state of pure bliss “I'm not going to last long”.

You take a deep breath through your nose and start sucking, slowly moving your head up and down his cock as far as you can, trying your best to please him. His hand ends behind your head, his fingers holding you close to him as he'd never let you go.

“Yes, baby” he grunts “you feel so good”

Arousal is growing more and more inside of you, your pussy getting wetter as juices start flowing out of you because of hearing him moan.

You feel so bold right now, a sense of euphoria takes over you all of a sudden and makes you grind uncontrollably, searching for friction to ease the ache between your thighs while your head bobs faster around him.

“Yes, just like that, keep going baby...” you do as you're told. You keep sucking, and Austin's grip between your hair tightens.

The cool metal of his rings presses against the nape of your neck, his knuckles turning white and his protruding veins popping out as he applies more pressure to guide your hips at his own pace, making you feel trapped under his grip— under his control.

Right now you're the one giving him pleasure but it doesn't matter. He'll always know how to control you and be in charge.

Your throat is becoming sore and dry, some locks are covering your sweaty forehead and falling on his pubic bone as little tears are forming at the corners of your eyes.

You're a complete mess.

“My pretty little angel- shit, I'm going to fuck your pussy so good” his promise hits you right at your core and a choked moan escapes from your lips, the vibration is so intense against the head of his cock that he jerks frantically.

“Oh god!” his eyebrows furrow, his tight grip around your neck forces you to swallow more of him until he's hitting the back of your throat.

You can't take it anymore. You pull away from him, your fingers never stopping to rub his cock. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you breathe feverishly, searching for air to fill your lungs but Austin is quicker than any move you can make and leans toward your lips.

“Wanna cum inside you.” he tugs you into his mouth hungrily and you moan in both surprise and excitement. You are both panting at the same pace, his tongue slides into your wide-open mouth starting a steamy make-out session where your lips crash between grunts and bite each other without mercy.

Austin moves both his hands on your covered back and you sit up to climb on top of him. Your legs surround his thick thighs and your hands run everywhere on his sweaty chest and around his neck.

“I love you” he breathes on your lips, between heated kisses “so much”

“I love you too, Aus- ah!” his throbbing cock pushes against your soaked folds, making you gasp and jolt. The thrill is too much, you're so desperate that you start grinding against him, searching for friction to stop the hundreds of shocks running down your spine and hitting your womanhood repeatedly.

Your skin burns under his touch. You want him. You need him. You crave him.

And he knows it.

His hand stops on your asscheek, underneath the fabric of your nightie as his teeth keep biting your bottom lip voraciously, his fingers squeezing your flesh before grasping the hem of your nightie.

Austin takes it off of you and tosses it to the side.

Now you're fully naked on his lap, your breasts are pressed against his half-covered chest and your stomach shakes at the sensation of being so exposed while he's overdressed.

He leans forward a bit enough to bring his hands behind his back and take off his jacket.

“No!” your voice leaves your throat in a worried shriek, bringing out a primal emotion hidden in the deepest part of you.

Austin halts and looks you in the eyes, urging you to give him reasons. You blush.

You can't run away.

“L-leave it on...” you swallow thickly, hair falling on your face, hiding your awkwardness from him. Right now you're ashamed to death for this implied confession and his silence is not helping to ease your feeling.

He simply keeps staring at you, with those damned eyes that know how to make you melt, and without saying a word he kisses you again.

His tongue hungrily pushes itself into your mouth, giving you goosebumps as his fingers slide down straight between your folds, coating in your juices.

Now he can feel it.

“Fuck, you're dripping” his touch is so slight and lasts only for a moment, making you moan against his lips "all this wet just for sucking daddy's cock and seeing him in this suit, mh?"

“Please, Aus...”

“Who knew a stupid suit would make my little girl so eager?”

You don't answer and your shyness seems to no longer exist.

You just keep grinding against him, more desperate than ever while his tip rubs against your throbbing clit; he grasps his cock with his hand, adjusting himself on the couch and lining up with your slit, teasing it as your heart aches in eagerness and you can do nothing more than keep begging him shamelessly.

Hearing you beg is making him crazy, he swears he could stand still for hours only to hear you beg with your tear-filled eyes, but right now he just wants you too much to do it.

“Please, I need you”

You don't need to say anything else. His tip pushes inside your cunt and right after he grips your waist forcefully. His entire length slides inside you slowly, your mouth curving in a perfect 'o' from which nothing comes out as you pull away from his lips. Your breath hitches as he makes you sink onto him until you feel his pubic bone hitting against your swollen clit.

You're stuck, unable to breathe. You squeeze your eyes shout and cry out.

“Oh!” you feel so full. Full of him.

He gives you a few seconds to get used to his presence inside you and a heavy breath releases from his chest.

“Shit, you're so tight” he curses under his breath, bottom lip between his sparkling teeth and eyes closed for pleasure.

And then he starts guiding you onto him and you let yourself get carried by his hands, feeble like jelly as you meet his thrusts, moving slowly, moaning weakly.

“Aus” you whimper, each one of your moves against him only stretching you open more.

“Shh angel, you can handle it” he coos softly in your ear, leaving sweet kisses behind your lobe, helping you to ease the pain.

Your thighs are trembling as they wrap around his and your fingers slide between his blonde locks, trying to hold him closer than ever.

From this position, you can feel him completely. Every inch, curve, vein, and single part of him is inside you to the brim and is filling you perfectly with a combination of pain and pleasure that only Austin can give you.

You open your eyes and look at him. He's already staring at you and now your gazes lock together, making you both feel more connected with your soul than just your bodies and skin.

Your breaths mingle, your lips only a few inches distant from each other and ready to touch again with each thrust.

“You're taking me so well” he murmurs.

His forehead is sweaty, his lips are plump and red like yours, his jaw clenching as he watches you fall apart on his cock and babble something in response before moaning, struggling to take him.

You feel that familiar coil growing in you, your walls clench around his girth and you feel the base of your stomach burn every time his tip caresses your cervix.

It's too much for you. You stop, ready to surrender to his touch, but Austin holds you in place.

“Ah-ah. Stay still, pretty girl.” his fingers force you to sit straight, impaling you more and more on his cock.

“I-i can't...”

“C'mon little one, don't be a brat” he warns you as he starts guiding your hips again, with slow but intense strokes, the stimulation leading a whine to escape your lips before you stop again.

“Hmmph... t-too much...” you babble, it's the only thing you're barely able to say. You can't even talk.

It's so good, you just wish you had the strength to ride him faster but his cock's hitting you so deep you swear you could die in his arms.

Suddenly something draws his attention and forces him to look down.

You feel his hand press on your belly and you gasp in surprise. So you lower your head as well and see the outline of his cock poking out of your stomach.

The vision makes his cock twitch and your walls squeeze around him. He's in your guts.

“God, you look so hot like this” his gaze is burning on your skin, and you can say he definitely loves the sight in front of him. His pupils are dilated, and his breath is getting heavier. He's addicted “Small, desperate, and full of my cock”

You moan hard, turned on by his words and seeing how much he's going deep inside you with every stroke.

“‘s so deep inside you, uh?” he mocks you, his thumb rubbing your tummy as your eyes meet each other again.

“Y-yes! S-so deep” hearing your voice cracked and desperate leads him to one conclusion.

“Think you need daddy's help” suddenly his grip on your flesh tightens and with no warning he pushes you down onto him brutally, slamming his cock into you, bucking his hips upwards to start thrusting deeper, harder.

In a matter of seconds, your nails dig into the back of his hands and you scream, tilting your head back in pleasure.

“Aus- oh, god!” you moan louder, your mouth wide open as ecstasy takes over you, leading you to shake uncontrollably against his hips, making him grunt and moan.

“Keep moving, angel, don't stop...” he whispers as you try to follow his orders as far as your body permits you.

His cock is buried in you, he is fucking you so good you're barely able to move properly.

“Yes, just like that, baby, you're so good” his words keep hitting at your core, only spurring you to push yourself to your own limits as he starts leaving wet kisses on your throat “My good girl...”

"Please, please, please!" the fire inside you is ready to burst, your peak is getting closer and you want more.

“You wanna cum, angel?”

“Yes, yes please, n-need to cum!” hot tears start streaming down your cheeks and you moan again, again and again, scratching his hands and leaving bruises on his knuckles.

Everything seems to be so intense. Sweat is soaking your bodies, immersing you both in a hot-as-hell shower. The wet sound of bones and skins slapping floods your ears, your juices flowing down your thighs ruining the fine fabric of his expensive trousers.

You're so close and so is he. You feel in heaven.

“Then cum baby, cum around my cock” his voice shakes you inside, his tip hits that sweet spot in you and your vision goes blurry.

“Austin!” you cry out, your throat rips apart for the strength of your climax. Your orgasm washes over you and you convulse, the shocks running through your body are too strong and leave you powerless as you collapse on his chest.

“Fucking god” soon a growl of satisfaction slips from his throat, and his abdomen tightens underneath you. His grip loosens, thick ropes of his white cum spill inside you and paint your walls, making you shiver.

The room is now filled with silence, interrupted every now and then by the racing breaths escaping from both of your lungs.

You're exhausted.

“You did so good, angel, so good” he starts caressing your head gently, his praises warming your heart as you try to recover from the passionate fuck you two just had, but before you can say anything he picks you up and gets off the couch.

You whimper in surprise, finding the strenght to tie your legs and arms around the soft fabric of his suit as Austin's cock is still hard inside you.

“Let's go t' bed, baby” he announces, a wicked grin crossing his face “Wanna see how deep I can fill this pussy if I let you ride me on the mattress”

a/n: okay sooo… what do you think? would you like to read anything else? i got five or six ideas to write in my drafts already 👀

Tag-list: @pennyroyalcreep @bcofl0ve @houndogsblog @gigisworldsstuff @emmaolsen @cryingabtab @slowsweetlove @fuckhoes1123 @cchl @auranightangle @spirited-away-to-mandalore @donnamarie23 @ab4eva @dancer4j @kibumslatina @denised916 @faeolwen @alqvarde @lilmisswoo93 @oldermenluverrr @eliseinmemphis @purejasmine @lillypink @sournatromanoff @lukedorkyhemmings @claudia-barnes @bo-burnhxm @lilac-presley @onlyangelssing @amorx

(the tag list is OPEN, comment down here if you wanna be added!)

[surferblues]

cherry red blow ! ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

dilfelvis! austin butler x fem! reader

notes if you have a problem with 5-10 year age gaps , do not read 😵‍💫 because when i say i like dilfs... i mean DILFS

warnings smut (18+ only, minors dni), unprotected sex, intoxication, dom! elvis, praise, p in v, unestablished relationship, implied age gap, spelling errors, and obviously sexual themes.

Elvis knew who you were. Hell, all he could think about was you. He wasn't the one to get caught up with one girl, he was the type of guy who would sleep with any woman who offered .

And he was Elvis Presley, he could sleep with any woman if he could - all, but you.

He knew best to not fall under the impression you wanted him, that you were doing all that dressing up for him. You were a nanny hired by Priscilla, you made it clear the first day you were hired that you had no ill intentions of ruining the Presley name.

The way you walked around his home with those satin little dresses that covered only so much. The way you covered your lips in that damn cherry red lipstick. He couldn't help to think you knew what you were doing.

You u loved your job. truly, there was good pay, you got on so well with the presley family, the house was big and luxurious. people would kill to be in the position you were in.

You did what you usually did in preparation of coming in for your job. You made sure every hair was in place, you made sure that your clothes came from the finest sellers, and your lips always were layered in that cherry red lipstick.

You had been hired by Priscilla, her hopes of hiring a nanny to watch Lisa from time to time so Elvis and herself could rekindle the faded spark in their relationship.

You had some knowledge of their difficulties of their relationships, as you got front row view to the arguments they shared every night Elvis came home drunk with a groupie under his arm.

The pills, Elvis never being home, and the women were just helping points on why Priscilla found it so difficult to be in a relationship with Elvis. So it was safe to say you weren't surprised when Priscilla packed up her things and left Elvis, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

A part of you was relieved when you found out Elvis was a single man, another part of you was worried about it. Elvis always made it clear he went for younger girls, and with the ten year age gap between the two of you - you knew he had to think of you in such a dirty way.

it started off as a little crush, but you never pursued in actually doing anything with the older man in fear of risking your job. he was smart, and you assumed he wouldn’t ever go for the nanny of his daughter .

that was until you’d catch him eyeing your cherry glazed lips, the subtle touches near your hips when he would pass by you, and clever flirty comments began to slip out of his mouth.

something in your dynamic just... shifted.

it was one night when he arrived home from a long night of partying, and Lisa Marie was sound asleep in bed — he’d find you with a halfway full bottle of wine in your grasp.

your cheeks flushed, your words sloppily said.

"you've been out all night mr. presley."You giggled with a rasp, your eyes look over towards the door where the man stood, the slam of the front door indicating he just got to Graceland.

you took in his appearance as he came into eye view. the dark messy hair that was messy just in the perfect way, the way his tan chest peeked from the behind the white button up that was unbuttoned slightly, bloodshot eyes indicating that he may have partied a bit too hard.

just as you took him in, he took in the sight of you. your red lipstick smeared from your lips ever so slightly, your hair tousled, and the straps of your little dress falling off your shoulders as your back rested the marble table that stood in the middle of the fancy kitchen.

he began walking towards the small island where you stood, your eyes following every move he made.

"wasn't today your day off, darlin'?" he questioned curiously with that thick country twang, letting out a breathless shot of laughter before looking towards the direction where you were. "priscilla asked to me watch Lisa, she had some plans." you admitted.

he walked towards the the wooden cabinet where he kept his liquor, grabbing a empty small glass and a much larger glass full of burning liquor.

some part of you was telling you two remove yourself from the room, get as far away from Elvis as you could - but another part of you was screaming at you to stay, screaming at you to pursue your dangerous urges.

"If you prefer me to go, I can, Mr. Presley." You offered, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you watched Elvis's face for any sign of discomfort.

he stood on the other side of the kitchen island, his body standing right across from you.

you saw the way his jaw clenched at the way you said his name, but that happened everytime the simple saying slipped out of your mouth, "oh, mr. presley."

"no, no, the more the merrier." Elvis's slurred out, pouring a shot of whiskey in his glass, hesitation laced in his voice but he quickly covered it with a shaky scoff.

"you know, it's good to call me just elvis." he met your eyes, cooing out his words. the playful expression that was on his face moments ago replaced with a more hesitant one.

"good for you or good for me?" you murmured out, your lips quirking up so riskily and daringly.

you were writing out a check you couldn't cash.

"it would save us from a whole 'lotta trouble." he raised his brows and tilted his head with a careless shrug, bringing the glass of liquor to his lips. his Adam's apple bobbing as the stinging liquid entered his body.

"trouble? i thought you liked trouble, mr. presley." you cocked your head, your words rolling off of your tounge so surely. you began readjusting your hips, the end of your satin dress riding up with every move you made.

he couldn't read the expression sprawled on your face, but you sure as hell could read his. his knitted brows, his eyes looking at you so intensely... reading you for any source of confirmation that the sinful thoughts in his head weren't only racing through his.

"i like a lot of things, sweetheart." elvis chuckled, setting down the glass of dark liqueur. his eyes taking a quick peek on the dress that was now bunched on your hips - a momentarily peek, a peek that was so quick that he was sure you wouldn't have saw.

"yeah?" you purred, deciding to be the one to make the first move out of the unspoken need you two shared. you decided to grab the glass he sat down moments ago and bring it your lips, the liquor was strong but you wouldn't show him that.

"uh, y... yeah." elvis choked out, clearing his throat as he felt sudden pressure on his cock. "good things cause a lot of trouble." he purred sinfully, he knew what your intentions were, he knew he wasn't reading this situation wrong... the next move was up to him.

he quickly recovered, shaking off the flustered state you put him in and returning to his cocky self. "good girl's, cause a lot of trouble." he teased in a readily manner, he lustfully over where you stood, watching you with nothing but pure amusement.

"oh, mr. Presley, kill me if im wrong. but i would assume your saying im a good girl?" you cooed, you quirked one of your brows, questioning the man infront of you. you sat your body on the counter, legs dangling as you looked at him curiously.

"isn't that you call a pretty little thing such as yourself, a good girl?" he rasped it so readily, his feet moved him few inches, just so he could stand in between your legs and look at your face.

your chest rose up and down in a needy way, your eyes watching the way his slowly wandered towards your bare hips. "i can be whatever your want, mr. presley." you handed him back his glass of liquor, a barely visible coat of cherry red lip stick on the rim of the glass.

"you’re gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?" he purred as he nodded, grabbing the glass from you, but never did he dare to look away from you. keeping his eyes on you as you felt his finger tips tap your soft thighs. those three taps, gesturing for you to open your legs so he could stand in between them.

and you listened, never did you hesitate. he looked down at your parted legs, oh god, how many times has he thought about this exact moment. he didn't know where to start, he just knew by before the night was over he would have kissed every inch of your body.

"how do you want me, baby?" one of his rough hands gently squeezed your hips, while the other finally began reaching the soaking lace panties that covered your pussy.

you felt his duo of fingers applying light pressure to your clit, causing a shaky whimper to leave your mouth.

"i... i just, " you trailed off, you looked down to see his hardened cock poking through his leather pants - you took a peek, a peek so quick you thought he wouldn't even notice.

"just need you inside me, mr. presley." you whimpered, rolling your hips up towards where he needed attention from you most - causing breathy moans to slip from his and your lips as you felt his needy dick rub you through your lace panties.

"that'ta girl." Elvis teased, he began slipping the wet pink lace off, a cocky smirk on his lips as he pickpocketing them. your hands traveled towards the zipper of his black leather pants, the sound of the zipper unzipping could be heard alongside your's and Elvis's needy breaths.

"so eager, baby?" he chuckled, the sound of the leather dropping to the floor - and just as quick as his pants were off, so were his boxers. there was nothing holding him back from fucking you.

precum on the tip of his hard dick, his body telling him he needed this more than anything.

" y'look so pretty like this, mama." he breathily cooed against your neck, placing sloppy kisses all over your collar bones as you and him were chest to chest. you felt his hand gently hover over your lower abdomen, pressing ever so gentle - leaving you slightly confused.

his dick began grazing over the slit of your pussy, his precum mixing with the wetness of your pussy his words he squeezed out of you. your hands gripped his shoulders, getting yourself ready and steady.

he then lined his dick with your hole, he looked at you for confirmation. you nodded readily and quickly, moving your hips that he had been gripping up a few inches. "please." you whimpered, his tip in your hole, you just needed him to completely to enter you.

and as soon as you whimpered, you felt his dick slowly filling you up. his dick was bigger than any other dick that had entered your body before. you felt your walls tighten around him, your nails burying into his shoulders as his hands squeezed your hips.

"pussy was made for me." he didn't move, letting your needy hole get used to the feeling as you both let out incoherent whimpers. his eyes squeezed shut, head buried in your shoulder, and hot and heavy breaths following.

his dick hadn't left your hole all the way when he then snapped his hips into yours, taking you by surprise as you felt his hand lift your thigh around his waist - hoping to get access to the spot that would drive insane even if he slightly grazed over it.

he set a harsh but slow pace, each thrust was better than the other. you felt yourself subconsciously rocking against his, breathy whimpers and moans slipping from his mouth was only encouraging you to continue.

He was making you feel so good, like you expected him to. His dick seemed to be made for you, all of its veins and curves hitting the right spots inside you.

you felt his hand pressed against your lower abdomen again, but this you felt something else other than his hand.

he wanted you to feel him, inside and out. so you saw the bulge of his dick with each time he slammed into you, you could basically feel that familiar Spring coil form.

"s... so damn.. " he cut him self off with a harsh thrust in your pussy, causing you to let out a high pitched moan. " tight, just for ... me."

and just if you thought that was too much, you felt his fingers press against your swollen button. pressing and tracing circles around your wet clit as his dick dipped in and out.

This pleasure filled encounter couldn’t last forever, even if you wished it could. Soon enough your walls began to clench around him, making his thrust slow down to enjoy the way you squeezed. He was choking out moans into your ear, his voice raspy and shaky.

"elvis... m'close." you whimpered shakily, his hands guiding your hips as you felt his dick pulse, the familiar feeling of your pussy getting sensitive with each time his fingers and dick did their most.

and he made sure to touch that g spot, pushing his dick into so deep that you were sure to cum any moment. "fuck!" you breathlessly moaned, everything around you went hot when his dick hit that spongy spot.

"that'ta girl." he pressing down lightly on your lower stomach so you really felt him whilst shushing you.

it was like all of the juices you had been collecting had finally released just by his dick grazing that sweet spot, your vision went white, and your body jerked into his - his arm wrapped against your body, hugging against you as he rode out his high.

you could hear the sound of yours and Elvis's cum mixing, the shaky pants you two shared, something you would never forget.

tag list . . . !

@marinarose12 @rysssaa @domaniquessidehoe @wistoric @givemehickeysplease @mr-aurum @feral4austinbutler @pandora-journey @kissingrhi @ash-omalley @queendelrey @heartsbomb @djarinlgc @austinbutler4life @adoreyouusugar

[foreverdolly]

summary: it's starting to look like he might never make it out of the friend zone. austin has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he's terrified that you'll never see him as anything more than a best friend and protector. with the fear of you one day outgrowing him fresh on his mind, he's now hell bent on getting you to view him in a different light. madly in love and terrified to lose you, austin butler is playing for keeps.

pairings: 80’s mechanic!austin x best friend!reader

status: ongoing

warnings: SMUT! in part three, virgin!austin. . . need i say more?, i love pining and this fic is testament to that, shaky/hurried hands, who doesn't love a good best friends to lovers fic, he has a deep southern accent, austin is the small town's metalhead and he's swelteringly hot without even trying

word count: 8k

chapter index:

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three ✦ coming soon. . .

[senseless-writing]

All Over Again

Pairing: Austin Butler x reader

Summary: It wasn’t Austin’s talent or looks that reminded Priscilla the most of her husband. It was his undeniable adoration for the woman he loved. 

Warnings: Painful reminiscing?

 A/N: This request smacked me in the face, and all of a sudden it was fully written! Love it when that happens. Also, I’m aware Priscilla never actually visited the set of “Elvis” (from what I gathered through interviews and such), so you’ll have to use a bit of imagination with this one. Hope you like it!

If you would like to be added to any of my tag lists (I’ve got a general tag list, along with specific ones for each fandom I’ve written for thus far), plz leave me a comment or ask and let me know which one!

Masterlist

----------

Priscilla was used to seeing her husband wherever she went. 

Not just in her daughter, or the grandchildren Lisa Marie gave her. There were so many other reminders. It seemed as if the whole world was as desperate as she was to fill the Elvis-sized whole in their hearts. She heard his voice over every loudspeaker, saw his eyes in every magazine, and felt his presence anywhere that reminded her of the things that brought him joy. 

It was lonely sometimes, being the only one who understood him in that way. Even lonelier once he left this Earth for good. But Priscilla was used to it by now, and even found solace in seeing parts of the heart she left behind still reflected in the world around her. 

So no, it didn’t surprise her to see Elvis in the eyes of another. 

However, she wasn’t so accustomed to seeing herself. 

At least, not in that way. Sure, people dressed up as her, which was always sort of awkwardly flattering. And once they started casting for the biopic surrounding her husband's life, Priscilla was shocked to meet someone like Olivia, who captured her essence to a tee. That was difficult to explain, and even more difficult to understand. But nothing compared to meeting Y/n. Or, rather, meeting Y/n with Austin. 

She first realized it at Graceland. It was the place where Priscilla felt the most safe, loved, and 100% connected to her husband. It was only right that this was where she would meet the people in charge of telling his story. She greeted them at the front of the house, and it was only then that she took note of someone new. 

“And you are?” she turned her gaze to the woman in between Baz and Austin. Surely this wasn’t Olivia? Priscilla had never been so forgetful with a face. 

The woman shuffled where she stood and fought the urge to duck her head. Priscilla then noticed Austin’s hand resting gently on her lower back.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Presley. I’m Y/n, Austin’s girlfriend, and a huge fan of your family and your husband's work. They said it would be okay if I tagged along for the tour.” 

Priscilla smiled warmly and took Y/n’s hands in her own. The poor girl was shaking like a leaf. The older woman knew what it was like to be dragged along by your star of a man to places you felt you didn’t belong, drowning underneath the pressure of trying to fit in. The sight was so symmetric, it almost froze her in her tracks. 

“Call me Priscilla, dear. And you are more than welcome here,” she lead them all inside. “That’s how he always wanted it to be.” 

While walking through the door to what used to be her home, Priscilla watched the couple with something new shining behind her eyes. 

No. Not something new. Something painfully familiar. Something she thought she’d lost forever. 

She watched as Austin leaned down, his lips brushing gently against Y/n’s ear. “I told you, baby. It all worked out just fine.” 

Y/n bashfully smiled and turned to tuck her face, warm with embarrassment, against his chest. In response, Austin chuckled to himself and wrapped her in his arms, rubbing up and down, before giving her one good squeeze and letting go. She seemed better, then. Calmer, even with uncertainty still simmering on her skin. 

It was such a senseless interaction. One of little import to everyone but the two of them. And yet, Priscilla felt as if time itself was rolling backwards.

Memories of her 22nd birthday flashed through her mind. Walking down the stairs hand in hand with her husband, tucking herself in his arms to hide from the overwhelming amount of gifts, candy, and love he showered her with. 

It wasn’t a private moment, not with the entire Memphis Mafia there to watch. And this moment between Austin and Y/n wasn’t any more personal. But that didn’t matter to either couple. Not then, and certainly not now. Love truly was strong enough to blind all. 

The trio continued their way through the home with Priscilla as their own personal tour guide. Truth be told, that wasn’t at all what she came here for. But after meeting Y/n, she was desperate to continue learning more about the girl from afar. Watching her and Austin walk through her home together, smiling and holding each other close, was horrifying and peaceful all at the same time. 

Once in the living room, Priscilla decided to fall back from the group, allowing them to observe everything on their own. Austin ran his fingers gently across the keys of the piano, a sound that sent a shock down the older woman’s spine. And Y/n, with special permission of course, had settled comfortably on the white, plush love-seat. Her bright eyes were wide while scanning the room around her, but fluttered shut with a blissful sigh after hearing the music Austin was producing. Priscilla watched in real time as the young girl's whole world centered, if only for a moment, around the man she loved. 

She remembered that feeling. She remembered fleeting moments of alone time with her husband, who despite all the fame, money, and screaming fans, found the most serenity sitting at this piano. 

“You hear that, ‘Cilla?” he’d call out after finishing a song, the final notes of a gospel tune still echoing on the walls. 

Her eyes would open to see his awe-filled expression. “Hm?”

“That’s God’s voice, honey.” 

And she would turn to look at him with stars in her eyes. “I just hear yours.” 

Something would always flicker behind his gaze, then. Understanding, with a twinge of pride. Or rather, pride bathed in humility. After years of watching Elvis search for truth in religious texts and songs, she knew this expression well. “Sometimes, baby, I think they’re one in the same.” 

“Y/n?” 

Austin’s voice broke Priscilla from her reverie. She could daydream all she wanted, but hearing Elvis’s voice, in her own home, coming from the body of another was something she would never get used to. 

He was no longer playing the piano. Instead, he’d moved to stand directly behind Y/n’s chair, and was squeezing her shoulders gently to grab her attention. His girlfriend tilted her head back and opened her eyes with a smile. 

“Hey,” she whispered up at him. 

Austin’s eyes were full of admiration. “Hey, baby. Where’d you go?” 

“I just love listening to you play. This house feels so…ethereal.” 

“Hm,” he hummed in agreement, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Let’s keep moving, yeah?” 

A quiet laugh fell from Y/n’s lips as she stood, accepting Austin’s hand and walking towards the next room. It was the kind of laugh where there wasn’t really anything funny, but joy was enough of a reason. Where happiness was a common occurrence, and blissful chuckles were the only way to truly express it. 

Oh, how it was to laugh because of love. Priscilla hadn’t realized how much she missed that. 

----------

She noticed it again during her visit to the set of the movie. 

Priscilla had been hesitant about visiting at first, what with the pandemic and all. And although she would never admit it to anyone, that wasn’t her only reason. She hadn’t yet decided how she felt about seeing her whole life be recreated for the big screen. 

But curiosity killed the cat. At the end of the day, the offer was too compelling to ignore. 

Olivia wasn’t there that day, which was both a blessing and a curse. Priscilla was certain that seeing a replica of herself from the ‘70s would be enough to scare her away for good. That time was…difficult. Still, that doesn’t mean a part of her wasn’t painfully interested. 

Despite it all, she was shocked to find herself enjoying her time on set. Everyone was so kind as Baz dragged her around, introducing her to them while explaining each intricate detail that went into telling her husband's story. 

God, seeing Austin in costume was something she truly wasn’t prepared for. It was like there was a ghost on set, smiling and charming the pants off everyone who dared to approach him. A sight straight out of the past, she was sure of it. Looking perfect in the ‘69 press conference outfit, Priscilla held back from walking up to him for fear of not knowing what to say. 

She just needed more time. 

It was a complete coincidence that Y/n was there as well. And again, Priscilla was overcome with the indescribable need to watch her. 

The girl sat in her boyfriend's chair, which said “Elvis” in big white letters on the back. Her legs were crossed, though she quickly uncrossed them, only to repeat the motion yet again. Clearly, she was nervous to be sitting there all alone. But before Priscilla could walk over and provide an easy distraction, Austin was already one step ahead. 

“Everything okay, darlin’?” he asked her in that voice that Priscilla knew so well. He placed either hand on the armrest of his chair, leaning forward until nothing else existed but the woman right in front of him. 

Y/n leaned back with an easy expression, nothing like how she looked only moments before. She was teasing, forcing him to come closer while her hands fiddled with the colored scarf around his neck. Her face was proof that she knew exactly what she was doing, and Austin ate it up. He was the moth to her flame. 

“All good here,” she reassured him. Her eyes ran up and down his towering form before meeting his gaze again with a knowing grin. “I think this one is definitely my favorite.” 

“Oh?” he mused. “This old thing?” 

“Never mind, I take it back.” 

Austin’s whole face shined when he smiled at her. “Nope! Too late, you already admitted to liking the look. No take backs!”

“It’s ‘cuz you look the most like yourself!” she protested with a groan. “I’ve seen you in fancy suits a hundred times. Sequined jumpsuits with capes, on the other hand…” 

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t mind if I grew out some sideburns?” 

Y/n’s expression fell to a deadpan. “Don’t you dare.” 

Austin’s laugh echoed across the room. His happiness was absolutely contagious, and anyone could see it. 

That was another thing the actor had in common with Priscilla’s husband. 

She watched him lean forward, whispering something in Y/n’s ear that Priscilla couldn’t hear. Her whole face relaxed into a gentle smile, her hands moving to the sides of his face to hold him close. When he was done, Austin pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, before leaving her to herself again. 

Priscilla was so caught in the moment, she didn't notice him making his way towards her until it was too late. 

“Priscilla,” he greeted her with a smile she’d seen a million times, but never on Austin’s face. “I’m so glad you were able to make it! How do you like everything so far?” 

She accepted the side hug he offered her. “I’m glad to be here. Though I must say, movie sets have changed so much over the past decades! I’m afraid I might get lost.” 

“Trust me, I feel the same way sometimes. You should see the ‘International’ set, it’s unbelievable.” 

Priscilla thought this man couldn’t possibly know how true that statement was. “Oh, that stage was…truly something special.” 

The conversation settled quietly after that, but it was a comfortable sort of silence. Priscilla wondered if the déjà vu would ever fade. 

“So you and Y/n,” she spoke after a moment. Austin’s gaze snapped to hers. “How long have you two been together?” 

His smile was so wide after just the mention of her name. “A little over a year.” 

“So it’s serious, then?” she mused with a knowing look. 

“Oh, definitely,” he answered quickly. “I…I really love her.” 

Austin shuffled awkwardly after the confession, and his eyes suddenly clouded with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, that was weird. You shouldn’t have to listen to me babble like a love sick puppy,” he chuckled. 

“No!” she reached out to rub his arm comfortingly. This may not be the man Priscilla loved, but it was someone who had dedicated the last three years of his life to honoring him. That automatically made him someone important to her. “Honestly, it’s a beautiful thing to love someone like that.” 

Priscilla hadn’t realized the confession was resting on the tip of her tongue until tears were welling in her eyes. 

“Priscilla?” Austin was immediately concerned. 

She shooed him away in an instant, clearing her throat before speaking. “I’m alright, dear. It’s just…” 

Priscilla swore it was her husband's eyes she was looking into at that moment. 

“...it’s just so nice to see that kind of love again.” 

Austin felt his whole chest cave in. With the breath suddenly knocked from his lungs, he wasn’t sure how to process what Priscilla had just admitted. Bringing Y/n here wasn’t meant to distress her in any way, and he felt horrible for whatever unwanted memories doing so might have brought up. 

And yet, he could see sentiment in her eyes. Austin knew she meant her confession in a good way. They were here to tell the story of her husband's life, and her own as an extension, so even Austin could admit he was proud to be able to reflect a piece of that in her eyes. But he hadn’t stopped to think about how it would make her feel. He was suddenly at a loss for words.

Priscilla noticed his spiral at once, and moved to hold his hands in her own. “Cherish it, Austin,” she spoke with the most serious tone he’d ever heard. “I mean that. Most people never find it for themselves.” 

Austin’s eyes were full of understanding. “I will.” 

But Priscilla wasn’t done. “Elvis and I,” she broke off with a sigh. “We made so many mistakes. So many.” 

Their relationship wasn’t perfect. Elvis wasn’t perfect, and Priscilla would no longer allow herself to believe in that delusion. 

Their life wasn’t perfect. But it had been their own. And in times like this one, she missed it more than anything. 

Priscilla squeezed Austin’s hands to emphasize her point. “I don't think things could have been any different for us,” she said without an ounce of regret in her voice. “But I hope they can be different for you.” 

Her smile reached her ears as she continued. “After this movie, everything is going to change for you. I just know it. But you need to prioritize this. What you have, right here, with that beautiful girl. Don’t ever let that change.” 

It was Austin, now, who had tears in his eyes. His mouth opened and closed, struggling to find the words to express the gratitude he felt towards her. But when Baz made the announcement that cameras were ready for shooting, he suddenly found himself out of time. 

“Go,” she urged him forward. “They’re ready for you, hun.” 

He shook his head, squeezed her hands, and smiled with his whole face. “Thank you, Priscilla. Just…thank you. For everything.”

Priscilla noticed his gaze sway to Y/n after walking away, even with his direction set towards all the cameras. She watched their eyes meet, and noticed the way they relaxed underneath each other's gaze. Two hearts, one soul, and a lifetime of love between them. 

Austin and Y/n were proof, if anything, that history has a way of repeating itself. At least, it was all the proof Priscilla needed. She could only hope her cautionary words were enough to break the cycle she and Elvis created all those years ago. 

And she hoped, more than anything, that this couple got the ending they deserved.

[drtyelvisfantasy]

𝒪𝓃ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓅 𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝓉𝒾𝓂ℯ

Pairings: Elvis Presley x female!reader

Summary: The reader who is Elvis Presley’s wife wakes up to see her husband teaching their baby son Jesse how to walk🥹

౨ৎ ౨ৎ ౨ৎ

The sun peeked through the curtains of Graceland, casting a warm glow over the room. You found yourself in the presence of the King himself, Elvis Presley. Your heart fluttered as you watched him, his mesmerizing voice filling the air as he strummed his guitar effortlessly. It was a rare, intimate moment you had the privilege of witnessing.

As you stood by the doorway, you saw Elvis glance towards the crib tucked in the corner of the room. A smile crept across his face as he noticed his baby son, Jesse, starting to stir. Gently setting his guitar aside, Elvis approached the crib, his eyes filled with adoration.

"Hey there, little man," Elvis cooed, his voice soft and melodic. "Ready to show Daddy those fancy moves of yours?"

Jesse giggled in response, his chubby arms reaching out towards his father. Elvis scooped his little boy up into his arms, cradling him securely against his chest. The room seemed to come alive with the sound of their laughter, a symphony of love.

With careful steps, Elvis carried Jesse to the center of the room, creating a safe space for their adventure. He positioned Jesse's tiny feet on the wooden floor, supporting his wobbly legs with his hands.

"Alright, Jesse, it's time to show Daddy how you can walk," Elvis encouraged, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "You've got the rhythm in your blood, just like your old man."

As if on cue, the room filled with the sound of Elvis singing softly, his voice guiding Jesse's every movement. With each step, Elvis matched their strides, gently swaying from side to side, ensuring Jesse felt secure in his arms.

One hesitant step, then another. Jesse's face lit up with excitement, his eyes gleaming with determination. Elvis offered words of encouragement, his voice a gentle melody, easing any fear his son might have had.

"That's it, baby boy!" Elvis praised, his voice filled with pride. "You're doing great, just like your Mama."

Jesse's chubby legs grew stronger, his steps more assured. The room filled with joyous laughter and applause as he took his first independent steps, stumbling slightly before regaining his balance.

Elvis smiled brightly, his heart swelling with love and pride. He knew this was just the beginning of a lifetime of dances they would share together, a legacy that would continue to live on.

"You see, my little man," Elvis whispered, his voice filled with emotion, "Your Mama and I will always be here to catch you when you fall, to help you find your way. You've got a whole world waiting for you, and your old man will be by your side every step of the way."

As Jesse continued to take his first steps, the room filled with a sense of wonder and joy. The bond between father and son grew stronger with each passing moment, a testament to the love that would always guide them.

And as you watched this enchanting scene unfold before your eyes, you couldn't help but feel privileged to have witnessed such a magical moment. Your husband, The King of Rock and Roll, teaching his baby boy to walk, was a memory that would forever be etched in your heart.

[dreamersparacosm]

austin butler - clumsy

warnings ; none

prompt ; in which your celebrity crush causes you to become a flustered, blubbering mess.

a/n ; a little something fun i wrote during the fall but never published! it’s basically anxious!reader and honestly how I imagine myself reacting to meeting aus so enjoy xoxo

Okay, don’t panic.

Do not panic.

It’s just a man. A man with blonde, curly locks, blue eyes, over 6 feet tall… but still, a man. Nothing special. You could probably find ten of him walking down Rodeo Drive.

Except that’s probably not true either.

It is Austin Butler, after all.

You hike the tail of your dress higher as you descend up the stairs to the red carpet, inhaling as much oxygen as possible to tame your nerves. It does nothing for you beside provide a placebo effect of calmness. Your publicist, Jane, stands next to you with her eyebrows furrowed in permanent worry, a crinkle she’s had since the day she took you on. “[Y/N], did you get a chance to look at your seating arrangement?”

“Uh, no, not yet,” You respond slowly, wincing slightly as you brace yourself for her reaction. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before turning towards you.

“You know what, that’s fine, sweets. Just go stand on the carpet so we can take these pictures,” She goes back to her clipboard full of tedious things like timing and interviewers and stupid seating arrangements, and you’re trying to stay focused, but how can you do that when Austin Butler is standing 8 feet away from you, posing on the red carpet?

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling.

Whoever keeps leaving his shirts unbuttoned is a menace to society and needs to be locked away for endangerment to the general public.

This whole idiotic schoolgirl crush began relatively long ago, when he was still deeply in love with Vanessa Hudgens and playing a teen heartthrob on The Carrie Diaries. You weren’t even famous at that point, just a mediocre commercial actress trying to get her big break. Once you finally booked your first big role, the crush faded away (only the tiniest amount) but that all came crashing down like an avalanche when you saw Elvis with your best friend.

They probably could’ve posted the entire movie on a porn website and made the same amount of money. And, thus, your crush ensued, full throttle and invading your every thought at the worst moments. Including this one.

Jane kicks the back of your leg, cursing under her breath as you tear your eyes away from him. You’re not new to this scene, you’ve been in major leading roles and you’ve been nominated for Oscars. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that at your core, you are a complete and utter mess. A klutz. A loser with some money in the bank.

So, you take the pictures, with not too many mistakes as you expected, just a few shots of you blinking while smiling. You’re sure they’ll end up on Twitter where your fans will laugh about it while saying how much they love you.

This part always goes by fast. It’s camera flashes, smiles that are strained under the bright lights, talks with interviewers that always go far longer than expected, and then before you know it, you’re being ushered into a tight room with celebrities you had only dreamed of seeing in real life. Jane is glued to your side as you wait for your turn to enter the theater.

Despite the cool temperature of Los Angeles, you’re somehow drenched in sweat. You’ve done this before, you know that. But that doesn’t stop your entire body from going into fight or flight mode, teetering towards flight.

“What’s the hold up?” You hear a female’s voice yell out, and you almost think it’s Jane before you hear her chuckle beside you.

“Speak that truth. I am so sick of these fucking Oscars dimwits wasting my time,” Jane says loudly enough for the girl to hear it, and before you know it, they’re enthralled in a full-blown conversation. If you weren’t trying to fan your armpit sweat, you might’ve joined.

Maybe it’s a good idea to find out where you’re sitting. Probably will need to know that before you enter. You can only assume they’ll sit you next to your last co-star, Timothee Chalamet. What a delight that would be (and that’s not sarcasm, he always smells like cashmere and some type of forest.)

You turn your body slightly, eyeing Jane and the girl she’s talking to. She’s a redhead, also wearing a suit and clearly another publicist that has been in the position for far too long to enjoy it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a male figure standing next to the redhead. Hm. A black suit. Your eyes trail over his body, a soft black lace shirt that is half-unbuttoned peeking over the hem. How nice. You love that look on men.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

Your body freezes. Mouth runs dry. Sweat shrivels back up into your body only to start forming at impossible speeds. Heart palpates so quickly you think you might be going into cardiac arrest.

In front of you, is Austin Butler. And he completely, totally, entirely, caught you checking out his entire body, head to toe.

There’s a smirk on his face that is undeniably directed towards you, eyes glimmering with amusement. You can’t even believe that you’re looking directly at him. He can’t be real, he has to be a figment of your imagination.

“Come here often?”

You did not just speak.

No, you didn’t. That couldn’t have been real. That couldn’t have been what you just said. After years of dreaming about this moment, that can’t have been what your brain and tongue agreed on.

He chuckles, a deep one that rumbles through his chest, and says, “I try not to make it a habit. You?”

You entangle your fingers with each other, hoping the sweat that has gathered on them just slides right off. “Me either. Trying to cut down on my presence and all that.”

He raises his eyebrows quizzically, that soft smile that curves upon his lips widening a little, “Well, can’t say the Oscars is the best place to do that.”

“Yes, well…” You trail off. Thoughts empty. Brain just a shallow void with nothing but dirty, filthy fantasies about him floating around. Oh god, get a grip.

And he should end the conversation right there, then back around and not acknowledge the weird girl who clearly hasn’t had enough media training. But, he doesn’t. Instead, he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and says, “I’m Austin. Austin Butler.”

“I know,” You say almost immediately. His facial expression contorts into something unreadable, and your lips flap again to try and salvage the rest of your dignity. “I’m [Y/N].”

You shake his hand, praying to some otherworldly creature above that he won’t feel the sweat on your hands. It’s a little weird, when you touch his hand. Feels like you’re envisioning yourself with him, like you’re some kind of wizard that can tell it won’t be the last time you see him. It feels a little like something out of a rom-com, with the electricity zap and the sounds of your hearts beating erratically.

You both pull your hands away, smiling to the ground. You really, really, really hope he’ll keep talking to you.

“Nervous?” He asks, taking note of the way your thumbs twiddle and the sidestep you keep doing with your heels.

“A little. Kinda. Maybe,” You let out a sigh of relief. “I’m not really the most organized.”

“Hm. Well, I’m sure you’ll be great,” His grin widens just enough to show off his pearly white teeth that glimmer under the remaining sunlight that California has to offer.

“Thanks,” You smile back. “How about you? Nervous?”

“Always,” He responds, almost taken aback by the transparency he’s having with another celebrity. He’s never had a conversation about nerves, never felt validated enough by someone to open up about the fear that comes along with being at this level of fame. “It’s my first Oscars.”

“Right,” You say, “Well, I’ve been to a few, and honestly, I’ll let you in on a secret. Even Leonardo DiCaprio shits himself a little when the nominees are announced.”

He lets out a laugh, a real one, one that sounds like all good things in the world and you would be more than happy to capture it in a jar and keep it on your bedside forever. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” He switches gears, shifting his body around a little. “What afterparty are you going to?”

It’s a simple question, one you’ve been asked numerous times by other people in the industry. It usually offers a sense of dominance over who got the better invite. “Er, yes, that would be a question for my lovely publicist, Jane, because I don’t have a rat’s ass idea of where I’m supposed to go.”

He laughs. Again. Part of you is enthralled, part of you is confused as to why he thinks you’re a comedy show. Maybe he thinks you’re a joke. Yes, that makes good sense. “That honestly makes me feel better because I don’t really know where I’m going either,” He admits.

“Are you kidding?” You ask incredulously. “You look like that and you don’t know where you’re going? I think the President of the Academy Awards has a personal invite waiting for you.”

Okay, maybe you shouldn’t have said that. But really, it has to be blamed on the fact that there are a swarm of murderous bees flying around in your stomach that are making you feel woozy.

His cheeks turn a crimson glow, “Like that?”

“Oh, you know…” You trail, slowly laughing to brush off the fact that you basically just admitted your undying love to him. “Just…. That’s a great black shirt. I’m gonna buy one for my brother.”

His lips curve upwards a little more, blue eyes sparkling like little oceans. “Thanks. And, you know, you don’t look bad yourself.”

You blink twice. Did he just say that?

Before you even whip up a flirty comment, or even a funny one that’ll have him doubling over in laughter and proposing to you by tonight, you feel Jane gripping your forearm tightly. “Stop dicking around, [Y/N]. We need to go in.”

“Right, yes, totally,” You smile awkwardly over to Austin, and he returns it. You feel soft and warm and glowy inside, like you might levitate off the floor.

And then you really are levitating off the floor, because your feet miss the step and you’re falling before you even have a chance to stop yourself. Your arm extends to try and delay your inevitable fall, but it doesn’t work and you’re really sprawled out. Immediately, Jane rushes down to try and drag you up, hurriedly asking if you’re okay.

You nod slightly, balancing yourself on your knees. Thankfully, you think the vast majority of people have entered the theater and missed out on your embarrassment of epic proportions.

Well, maybe not everyone.

Suddenly, like a light peeking from beyond the clouds, you see an outstretched hand to your right. It’s tan, a male’s hand for sure. You look up to see who could possibly be nice enough to help you up. Maybe it’s God telling you it’s time to pass away.

It’s Austin. And he has a really worried look on his face that you’re shocked by, but his expression falters once he sees the look on your face. You’re smiling, a real big goofy one, because it’s so ridiculous and he’s so ridiculous and you’re pretty sure one of your heels is broken.

You place your hand in his, and his other hand wraps around your waist to help you up and steady yourself against him. Once you’re finally standing, he grins, leaning into your ear, “Remember, even Leonardo DiCaprio shits himself at the table.”

You don’t even realize his arm is still wrapped around your waist until you notice the absence of it. You giggle lightly, biting your lip. “Of course. And I think I saw Brad Pitt throw up in the bathroom last year.”

“Austin, we gotta go,” His publicist grabs his hand, and you feel a pang of disappointment. You almost think he does too, his blue eyes turning grayish as he looks back at her.

“Right,” He clears his throat. “Well, good luck tonight, [Y/N]. I hope you win.”

“You too,” The smile on your face is probably permanently tattooed on. You feel Jane’s hand on your back, slowly moving you away from him although your feet beg to stay.

“Oh, and [Y/N]?” You turn back around to face him, “Big fan of your work.”

With that, he turns away with his publicist to go and find his seat amongst the crowd. You watch him disappear, an indescribable feeling washing over your entire body. You’re also being whisked away to your table, greeted by familiar faces and friends. But it’s pretty clear that’s not the reason why you’re smiling.

Some part of your brain decides on one thing: this won’t be the last time you see him.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

You decide that you like California. Not a whole lot, but enough to make you sign a contract for a new film. Normally, you believe that Los Angeles and all its surrounding cities are a dreadful structure that encapsulates all the worst features of privileged Southern California lifestyle. But the food is undeniably tasty, and your new apartment is decorated with high ceilings and well-lit rooms, so you’ll make do. You’ll be filming in sunny Calabasas, where the houses are painted a perfect shade of white, where time stills a little and every cloud is just the right amount of fluffy.

The Oscar’s had came and went, and you won, to no one’s surprise but your own. With that accomplishment came offers. People really, truly wanted to work with you, and although it baffled you, Jane was having the time of her life coordinating auditions and interviews.

Everything was truly perfect.

You flip through the pages of your fresh script, your manicured nails turning through the warm pages, the black ink bleeding onto the sheets. Jane sits across from you, feverishly scribbling something, negotiating your pay for your new film. She’ll deliver. In the end, she always does.

She hangs up her call, sighing from relief. You’re about to ask her how it went, if you got the price you wanted, before her phone blares again with that god awful ringtone she refuses to change. She answers it, a cheerful tone in her voice, “Kate? So good to hear from you! What’s going on?”

You tune out of her conversation, focusing your eyes back on the mass of paper in front of you. A new story to be told. A new character to embody. A new chapter of your life. It’s all very emotional and sappy and you almost want to cry tears of happiness, but you’ll save that for later, once you get home and crack open a bottle of wine.

You hear Jane place her phone down, and your eyes flicker back up to her. There’s an expression on her face that’s unreadable, and you’re unsure of how to process it. Oh, no. If you didn’t get the price you wanted, that would suck. Or, maybe you did and she’s just unsure on how to process emotion. You always thought she was a robot.

“I just had the weirdest phone call,” She finally speaks, scratching her forehead quizzically.

“What’s up?” You ask mindlessly, certain she’s going to tell you something personal like her cousin getting married to a farmer.

“That was Austin Butler’s publicist. She said he’s been asking about you since the Oscars.”

There’s no fucking way. She’s pranking you. Any second now, Ashton Kutcher is going to pop out behind the doorframe and say “You’ve been Punk’d!” and then maybe he’ll also bring out Austin to further your embarrassment.

“Excuse me?” You blink.

“Yeah,” She seems just as baffled as you are. “She said he’s been trying to find a way to get in contact with you, but turns out, you guys don’t have a lot of mutual friends.”

Well, that makes sense.

She continues on, “Anyway, she gave me his number and then said he wants to ask you on a date. So, do with that what you will.”

She unlocks her phone, slides it across the table to you, and you see a phone number typed into her notes. Your hand trembles as you pick up the iPhone, copying the number into your own contacts. You feel woozy, just like you did on that red carpet, just like you did the moment you locked eyes with him.

“Right, well,” You clear your throat. “I’ll just step outside and call him real quick.”

She nods, raising one eyebrow. There’s a small grin that appears on her lips, a knowing one, and you slide out the door into the hallway.

You don’t know what comes over you, or what demon compels you, but you click the number. You hear the ring. There’s a pause. Your heart drops as you think that he might not answer.

And then you hear him. His voice.

“Hello?”

“Uh, h-hi. Hi. This is, um, [Y/N]. Your publicist gave me your number.”

It almost sounds ridiculous.

“[Y/N]. You know, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you but turns out you’re not an easy person to reach,” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, you know me and my presence. All time low,” You say sarcastically, and he chuckles.

“Right. Well, congratulations on your win. Very well-deserved,” His voice is deeper than you remember. There’s a slight desire that pools between your legs for a moment before you snap yourself back into reality.

“You too. Some would call it the performance of the year,” And you can’t even believe it’s happening. You’re really flirting with him.

“Thank you,” He says so softly, so charming. He’s always grateful and humble, and it makes you even more attracted to him. If that’s even possible at this point. “So, do you think there’s a chance you would allow me to take you out to dinner? Somewhere lowkey, you know, for your presence and all?”

The question is so unbelievable that you can’t even take it in. You make a few sounds, splutter over your words and trip over them like you did your own two feet at the Oscars. Your heartbeat travels up to your eardrum, pounding with every ounce of blood that travels through you. “U-uh, umm… well, you know, let me go ahead and check my schedule.” There’s a pause. You cover the reciever and scream a silent yell into the void, jumping a few feet high.

Clearing your throat, you say, “Hm. Seems like I’m free tomorrow.”

“You can’t do tonight?”

The question takes you aback. Surely, he can’t be asking that because he wants to see you. “Oh, why? Are you leaving California tomorrow?”

“Not at all,” You hear him shuffle. “I just really want to take you out.”

“Right, yes, of course.” You let his question hang in the air. You know your answer, but you like letting him think there’s a possibility you might reject him.

“I am free tonight.”

“Great,” His voice is upbeat, a newfound excitement peeking through. “Well, text me your address. I’ll send a car to pick you up.”

“Yup, totally. Super duper cool. Looking really forward to it,” You babble on, pacing the hallway you’ve trapped yourself in.

He lets out a low laugh, “Me too. I’ll see you tonight. Bye, [Y/N].”

You say your goodbyes, leaning against the wall for stability before you collapse into a puddle. Later, a janitor might come to find your lifeless body glued to the wall. Cause of death? Man built like a Greek god asks woman on date.

But, everything is fine. You’ll somehow make it.

There’s a ridiculous feeling in your heart, a warmth that spreads to your toes and fingers. Now, everything is perfect.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

[stephstars08]

Jealous

Austin Butler x Reader

Warnings: Long Intro (Sorry!), Angst, Mention of Jealous!Austin, Some Adult Language, Tension, Suspicion, Mention of Cheating, Fluff, and Possibly Some Grammar Errors. (Sorry if I forgot any!)

Summary: Y/N is a photographer who takes pictures for movies and tv shows. Y/N and Austin met on the set of Elvis and became a couple right after the production of the movie wrapped up. They have been together ever since then and everything had been going great between them till Y/N hired a male assistant that causes fights between her and Austin due to his jealousy.

Word Count: 2,188

Author’s Note: Here is my first Austin Butler one shot for all of the Austin girls out there! I hope you all enjoy it and let me know what you all think!

Y/N is a photographer for celebrities who star in movies and tv shows. She’s worked on a couple small films that got released on streaming services. The biggest movie she has worked on so far in her career so far is Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis. Y/N took all the pictures of the cast and did all of the promotional photos for the movie. She even got to take pictures of the cast behind the scenes as well.

Y/N got along well with the whole cast and crew especially the star of the film, Austin Butler who played Elvis. Austin was the first actor Y/N met on set and they instantly connected. They were always around each other on and off the set. Since Y/N and Austin were staying in houses that weren’t that far away from each other they would take turns hanging out at each others residence.

As time went on everyone knew that Y/N and Austin were quickly falling for each other hard. But, as the production continued neither one took the big step which was ask the other person out on a date. The only thing that has happened between the two is just flirting.

As time went on Y/N really wanted to go to the next level with Austin but she was too shy and is never the type of girl to ask a hot guy out on a date. Y/N was always hoping that Austin would make the move but she also knew that right when Elvis started production he had just got out of a long term and serious relationship with someone else, so he was most likely not ready for another relationship.

As the production of Elvis was coming to an end, Y/N really thought that nothing was going to happen between her and Austin till the last day on set, Olivia the actress who played Pricilla in the film, convinced Y/N to just take a chance and just ask Austin out on a date. Olivia told her that it was going to be her and possibly last chance to do it. Y/N knew that Olivia was a hundred percent right, so she used all of the confidence she had and asked Austin out on a date and he said yes. Ever since that first date, Y/N and Austin have been together as a couple.

They live together in a condo that’s right on the beach in California. Even though their careers have made them have a long-distance relationship they were still unbreakable. Everything had been going perfect till just two months ago. Y/N had hired an assistant named Drake. Since Y/N was getting hired to do so many photoshoots she was having trouble doing everything on her own so that’s when she hired Drake.

In the beginning Austin had no problem with Y/N having a male assistant till he met Drake. Every-time Austin was around Drake would act super rude towards him. The only time Drake played nice with Austin was if Y/N was in the room. It drove Austin crazy. Austin also couldn’t help but get extra jealous when Drake would be spending so much time with Y/N because he hated the way Drake looked at Y/N and the way Drake acted around Y/N. It’s like Drake is being rude on purpose.

Austin feels like Drake is trying to push Austin out of the picture. However, when Austin would mention Drake’s behavior to Y/N she would just brush him off which always led to an argument between the couple.

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

Y/N was peacefully sleeping when she got woken up by her alarm clock blaring. Y/N let out a soft sigh as she opened her eyes and snoozed the alarm. When she rolled over onto her back, she saw the other side of the king-sized bed empty. Flashbacks of her fight with Austin last night flashed through her mind.

This was the worst argument they have ever had. It was so bad and intense that Austin decided to sleep downstairs on the couch. Of course, it was another stupid argument about Drake. Y/N doesn’t understand why Austin gets so jealous. He is the only one she wants to be with. Austin always tells her that she is so oblivious to Drake’s actions.

Y/N could feel her eyes start to water due to the flashbacks, so she wiped the tears away from her eyes and got out of bed. She got changed into a fresh pair of clothes and went into the bathroom connected to the bedroom to brush her hair and teeth. She decided to put her hair up into a ponytail since the photoshoot she’s working on today is going to be outside and since she moves around a lot, she gets hot real fast. After she finished in the bathroom, she walked back into the bedroom to put on a pair of her comfy sneakers. She grabbed her phone off the charger and put it in her back pocket of her blue jeans. She grabbed her big bag that had her laptop and camera in and wrapped the bag’s strap around her shoulder.

Y/N walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When Y/N walked into the living room she saw the pillow and blanket Austin used last night laying on one end of the couch. The blanket was placed on top of the pillow that was laying flat on the couch cushion. She knew that Austin had to be in the kitchen. Y/N took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen where Austin was sitting at the kitchen island drinking a cup of coffee.

Y/N immediately felt the tension between her and Austin right when she walked into the room. Y/N didn’t say anything to him as she walked over to the counter where the coffee machine was. She got out one of her traveling mugs from the cabinet and poured some coffee into the mug.

“Do you want me to fix you something quick to eat?” Austin asked breaking the tension that was floating in the air. “No.” Y/N answered not looking at him. “I’m just going to stop somewhere before I go to my office.” Y/N added as she put the lid on her cup.

“Listen Y/N about what happened last night I- “Austin started to say but she cut him off. “Austin, I have a big photoshoot today so if you want to continue last nights conversation you can wait till, I get home.” Y/N told him as she looked over at him with a stern look in her eyes. Austin just gave her a nod and took a sip of his coffee.

Y/N grabbed her keys off one of the hooks on the wall and walked out the door. She didn’t have the energy or motivation to say I love you or goodbye to Austin which did scare her. What if the next fight she gets in with him it’s so bad that they end up breaking up?

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

Y/N just finished up her long photoshoot for an upcoming film and was packing up her equipment with the help of Drake. After they packed all of the equipment into Y/N’s car they got into the vehicle to go back to Y/N’s office. Y/N let Drake drive since she was so tired from the shoot. The whole car ride back to the office was quiet which concerned Drake since she actually hasn’t spoken much to him all day. Right when they got back to the office, they carried all the equipment inside.

“Are you okay?” Drake asked her with concern in his voice as Y/N was packing her laptop and camera back into her bag. “You’ve been really quiet today.” Drake added which made Y/N let out a sigh. “I just had a rough night last night.” Y/N told him looking over at him after she zipped up her bag. “Another fight with Austin I’m guessing.” Drake said which he got a nod from Y/N as the answer.

Drake is the person Y/N talks about all of the arguments she has with Austin. “This fight got so bad he slept on the couch.” Y/N told him.” Damn, sorry to hear that.” Drake said as he shook his head.

“I don’t know why he gets so jealous of the bond we have. He should know that I would never cheat on him.” Y/N said with nothing but frustration in her voice. It hurts her that Austin would ever think that she would cheat on him. Especially with how long they have been together. They have been through a lot together.

“Yeah, if anything it should be the other way around.” Drake said which quickly confused her. “What do you mean by that?” Y/N asked him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity in her voice. “If one of you was to cheat it would be him.” Drake told her which took her by surprise. “No, Austin would never cheat on me.” Y/N told him in a stern tone which made Drake let out a harsh laugh. “He’s an actor Y/N. Isn’t that what always happens. He could get casted in a movie with a pretty girl and end up cheating on you with the actress behind the scenes. It’s happened so many times throughout Hollywood.” Drake told her.

Hearing Drake say this about Austin wasn’t just taking her by surprise, but it was also pissing her off. “Get out!” Y/N hissed now taking him by surprise. “What?” Drake asked her in shock. “I’m not going to let you stand here and talk shit about Austin when you don’t even fucking know him like I do so get the hell out!” Y/N told him in a snappy tone. “You’re firing me?” Drake asked still in shock. “That’s what I mean when I say get out!” Y/N told him as she folded her arms over her chest. “Get your shit and leave! Last time I’m telling you!” Y/N told him in a warning tone. Drake grabbed all of his stuff and left.

Y/N let out a big sigh as she ran her hands down her face. She couldn’t believe what just happened between her and Drake. Now she knows that everything Austin was telling her about Drake was true. Y/N couldn’t help but feel bad, but she also knows she has to make it right as well.

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

Y/N was driving home in her car. After what just happened with Drake she couldn’t wait to get home and see Austin. After firing Drake, she felt a weight that has been on her shoulders be lifted off.

Y/N parked her car right behind Austin’s vehicle that was parked in the driveway. She turned the car off and did a sigh of relief. She took off the seatbelt and grabbed her bag from the passenger seat. When she got out of her car, she locked the doors and put the strap of her bag around her shoulder. She closed the car door and walked through the door that led her inside and into the kitchen.

She noticed right away that the lights were dimmed and there were rose petals scattered all over the floor that was leading into the dinning room. Y/N took the strap of her bag off her shoulder and sat it down on the kitchen island counter. She followed the rose petals into the dinning room where Austin was. The table was all set for a romantic dinner. Austin had cooked her her favorite dish which made her heart feel all warm.

“Welcome home.” Austin said walking over to her. “What’s all this?” Y/N asked him in a curious tone. “Not that I’m complaining.” Y/N added in quickly which made Austin laugh. “I wanted to apologize for all of the fighting and accusing you of picking Drake over me. I shouldn’t be taking my jealousy out on you. To be honest I shouldn’t even be jealous.” Austin told her. “Actually, I should be the one apologizing.” Y/N said which made Austin look at her with confusion.

“Drake was talking a lot of shit about you, so I fired him.” Y/N told him which took Austin by surprise. “You fired him for me?” Austin said in surprise. “I don’t want an assistant that is rude and talks shit about the best boyfriend in the whole world.” Y/N told him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She leaned in and connected her lips with his soft lips.

The kiss was full of love and and passion. Y/N felt her heart flutter in her chest when Austin put his hands on her hips. It’s been a while since Y/N and Austin have shared a kiss that was filled with so much passion. When they released from the kiss they stayed into each other’s embrace.

“I love you so much.” Y/N told him as she stared up into his memorizing green eyes. “I love you more.” Austin told her staring back into her gorgeous eyes.

They shared another sweet kiss and then sat down at the table together to eat the lovely meal Austin made for them.

[goodgirlfaith1]

Gimme a Kiss

Pairing: Austin Butler x Fem!reader

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: Due to your best friend Emily staying with you for the night, it’s the first night you and your boyfriend Austin Butler are spending apart since you moved in together six months ago. But neither of you can fall asleep without being beside each other. Austin calls you drunk from his best friend’s house - where he’s supposed to be staying for the night - and shows up at your shared penthouse.

Warnings: SMUT. Unprotected sex, fingering, pressing down on stomach during sex, intoxication, swearing, pet names, praise kink, hair pulling kink.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/n: Hi! You might know me from Wattpad, where I have posted a series of Austin Butler/Elvis Presley imagines. This is a rewritten version of the original ‘Gimme a Kiss’ imagine which I published on Wattpad six months ago. I’m aiming to rewrite all of these imagines and post them on here, as I feel my writing has improved since I first started writing these.

Please let me know if you have any new requests and I’ll give them a go!

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

You lay on your side, your gaze fixed on the alarm clock on your nightstand. You feel like you're going square-eyed as you continue to stare at the clock, which now reads 3a.m. You've been desperately trying to fall asleep for the past two hours, but if your best friend Emily's snoring wasn't enough to keep you awake, the lack of your boyfriend's arms wrapped around you certainly was. This is the first night you and Austin have ever spent apart since you moved in together six months ago. Even though Austin has been busy filming Elvis, his upcoming movie, for the past few months, he's come home to you every single night.

Austin is spending the night at his best friend's apartment tonight to give you some quality time with Emily. You don't get to see her very often because she lives in Los Angeles, and you and Austin live in New York. You two had a girls night in watching Breakfast at Tiffany's, drinking white wine and doing face masks. You've enjoyed your night and being able to spend time with your best friend, but you can't seem to get Austin out of your head. You miss him so much it hurts, even though you saw him this morning. It doesn't matter, you still miss him more than ever - especially now that you've discovered you can't fall asleep without him beside you.

You turn your back to the alarm clock, feeling extremely jealous of Emily, who is sound asleep beside you. You close your eyes, trying to rid of your thoughts of Austin. But as your head sinks further into the pillow, you find yourself wishing your head was resting on Austin's chest instead. You sigh dramatically, deciding to give up on trying to sleep. You put your hand under your pillow and grab your phone, clicking on the screen to turn on the flashlight as you stand up from the bed. You tip toe your way out of the bedroom, being careful not to wake your sleeping best friend.

You make your way into the living room, which is in almost complete darkness. The only light filling the room comes from the moon, and the thousands of lights across the city which flood into the room through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The second you sit down on the huge, black leather corner couch, you feel your phone vibrate in your hand. A text notification from Austin appears on the screen.

Aus<3: Baby are yiu awske

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, but the realisation soon hits. Austin only ever misspells a text message when he's drunk.

You: Huh

You: Are you drunk Aus?

The second you hit send, the word read appears underneath your text message. A call from Austin soon appears on the screen and you smile as you press the green answer button. "Hello?" You hold the phone to your ear.

"Baby," Austin says through the phone, his voice slightly deeper than usual. A sense of relief washes over you at the sound of his voice, and you smile, feeling an immediate sense of comfort.

"Hi," you say softly, sounding like a giddy teenager talking to their crush.

"Why're you up so late? Are you okay?" Concern is laced in Austin's voice. He knows it's not like you to be awake this late.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're a terrible liar, sweet girl."

You roll your eyes. How does he always manage to read me so well? You wonder.

"Tell me what's wrong, baby," he says softly.

"I can't sleep without you," you sigh.

"Mm," Austin hums. You're not entirely sure why, but the sound sends butterflies erupting indoor stomach. "Me neither, sweetheart. But, you know, I can help with that," he says, and you sense a hint of mischief in his tone.

You're startled when you hear a knock on your apartment door. _Are you hearing things, or did someone really just knock on your door at 3 o'clock in the morning? 

You sit up straight, feeling your palm sweating as you hold your phone to your ear. "Aus?"

"What's wrong, baby?" Austin senses the worry in your tone.

"Someone's at the door."

"Answer it," Austin says, slurring his words slightly.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. "You want me to answer the door?" you repeat, not entirely sure you heard him right. Why would your over-protective boyfriend ever want you to answer the door to someone - alone - at 3a.m. It must be the alcohol.

"Mhm."

Why is he being so relaxed about this?

"Aus, it's 3am. What if it's a serial killer or something?" You walk into the kitchen to grab a knife. You're not completely sure what you'll do with it if you actually need to use it. You're sure you'd freeze and go into panic mode, but having the knife somehow brings you some sort of comfort.

"Just answer it, baby. Trust me."

You take a deep breath in, clutching the knife tightly in your clammy hand as you walk through the living room, heading towards the front door. "Aus, I'm scared," you whisper into the phone as you near the door.

"Don't be scared, baby. I'm right here," he says reassuringly. You take a deep breath, your sweaty grip around the knife tightening as you twist the door handle, holding the knife up as you pull the door open to reveal...

You breathe out a sigh in relief when you're met with your boyfriend on the other side of the door. Austin stands there, gazing down at you with a boyish smirk on his face. A strand of black hair hangs over his forehead as he hangs up the phone call and puts his phone into the pocket of his jeans. The first few buttons of his black shirt are left unbuttoned, showing off his defined, sun-kissed chest as he leans against the door frame. "I hope you're not planning on usin' that knife on me now, sweetheart," he says with a smile. You don't miss the Southern accent which very subtly creeps into his words - a result of his role as Elvis Presley.

You shake your head, fighting off the smile pulling on your lips as Austin pulls the knife out of your hand. "You asshole!" You scold him, but he just gazes down at you with stars in his eyes, a soft smile pulling on his lips. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry, baby." Austin steps into the apartment, setting the knife down on the table with your keys on it. He keeps his gaze trained on yours as he takes your phone from your hand and sets it down next to the knife, a smile pulling on his lips. He wraps his free hand around your jaw to pull your head slightly closer towards his, leaning down to kiss you.

But when you feel how cold his hand is against your cheek, you pull your head back before your lips can meet his. "Jesus," you take his hand off your face, holding it with both of your hands in attempt to warm it up a little. "You're freezing, baby." You intertwine your fingers with his and lead him further into the apartment, shutting the door behind you.

"I like that," Austin says softly from behind you as you lead him into the living room.

"Like what?" you lead him towards the couch. You figure you'll get him to lay down on the couch with a blanket while you make him a hot chocolate to warm him up. But before you can do that, Austin plops himself down on the couch and pulls you down on top of him so you're straddling him.

"When you call me baby," he smirks. He places his free hand on your lower back as he leans back against the couch, his other hand resting on your upper thigh. His thumb draws gently back and forth over the skin of your thigh, which has become accessible thanks to Austin's T-shirt you're wearing, which has ridden up your legs. You're not sure if it's the moonlight or the city lights casting a soft light over Austin's face as he gazes up at you, in awe of your beauty. Whatever the source of light is, it captures his face perfectly, illuminating his bright blue eyes, which are a complete contrast with his dark hair. You're still getting used to the black hair.

You lean your head slightly closer towards his as you gently toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, "mm, do you?"

"Mhm," he hums lowly, your faces only inches apart. "Very much." You can smell liquor on his breath.

"So you are drunk," you confirm, smiling softly.

A boyish smile pulls on Austin's lips. "Just a little bit."

You smile, breathing out a laugh through your nose. "Come on, you should get some sleep. We'll sleep in the guest bedroom."

"Oh, no you don't," Austin says when you  place your hands on his shoulders to push yourself off him. His hands quickly find your waist and he holds you down on his lap to stop you from standing up. He gazes up at you with a glimmer in his eye, and his gaze falls down to your lips. He doesn't say anything, he just gazes up at you like you're the most extraordinary thing he's ever laid his eyes upon.

"What?" A smile pulls on your lips. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

"'Cause you're beautiful." You smile softly, feeling giddy. "Gimme a kiss," Austin wraps his fingers around your jaw and pulls your head down towards his. This time, you don't pull away, and your lips mould together in a gentle, loving kiss. You let out a breath through your nose, feeling a sense of relief washing over you at the feeling of Austin's soft lips against yours, his large hand keeping hold of your jaw. You place your hands on his firm shoulders, feeling his muscles beneath your fingertips as he smiles against your lips.

"What're you smiling at?" you ask against his lips.

"Just missed you," he says softly, a smile pulling on his lips as his eyes wander over your face. He pulls your head towards his with his grip around your jaw, your lips meeting again.

"I missed you too, baby," you whisper in between kisses. Austin's smile grows wider, and your teeth almost clash as you both smile like idiots into the kiss. Your lips mould together like they were made for one another, and a kiss that began sweet and gentle soon turns urgent when Austin tilts his head back, deepening the kiss. You meet his pace, getting lost in the feeling of his lips. You soon feel Austin's tongue on your bottom lip, and without a thought about where it might lead, you open your mouth for him.

You taste whiskey on Austin's tongue as his moves with yours in a deep, passionate kiss which turns more sensual with every second that passes. You don't realise just how lost in his kisses you are until you shift your hips ever so slightly, feeling how hard he is beneath you. Austin moans into the kiss, and you swallow the sound, smiling against his lips.

"Alright," it takes everything in you to pull back, tearing your lips from Austin's, but you figure you should quit while you're ahead. His expression drops as he gazes up at you with parted lips, his eyes flicking between yours rapidly. "You're drunk, baby, let's just go to sleep." You place your hand on Austin's shoulders in attempt to stand up, but once again, his tight grip around your waist stops you from doing so.

Austin swallows hard, his throat bobbing as he gazes up at you like a lost puppy. "Please, baby," he begs, blue eyes flicking between yours. "I'll make you feel good." He pecks your lips. "So good, I promise." He pecks your lips _again, _looking up at you desperately. "Need you so bad," he whispers against your lips before he closes any space left in between his mouth and yours. This time, his kiss lingers, and you don't pull away. You can't resist him.

Austin's hands run up your thighs, and he tugs on your T-shirt - well, his T-shirt, which you've practically claimed as yours. "Off," he says desperately against your lips, neediness evident in his tone. "I need this off." He breaks the kiss to pull the T-shirt over your head, leaving you in only your underwear. He tosses the T-shirt onto the floor and crashes his lips against yours in an urgent kiss. Your hands snake around the back of his neck as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter for him with every second that passes.

Feeling yourself aching for him, you pull Austin's head back with your fingers in his hair to deepen the kiss. He smiles against your lips at your eagerness as his large hands roam your body. They run from your breasts - which he caresses - before you feel his fingertips run down your back, then onto your thighs, nearing higher and higher until they reach your ass. He gives your ass a squeeze and you grind against his erection in response, causing him to groan into the kiss. The sound sends butterflies erupting in your stomach, and your need to feel him only intensifies.

Without breaking the kiss, you rip open Austin's shirt, your tongue moving with his, urgently, as you hear the buttons of his shirt fall from the couch and onto the wooden floor. Austin slips a finger beneath the waist band of your underwear and pulls hard, causing the fabric to rip, leaving you completely naked on top of him. Usually, you would cuss him out for tearing your underwear, but you're too needy for him right now to care.

A small stinging sensation lingers on the skin of your hip, but your attention is drawn back to Austin when his finger makes contact with your soaked folds. You take a sharp breath in through your nose, doing your best to kiss him back as he works his finger up and down your folds. "So wet for me, baby," Austin breathes against your lips.

"All for you," you whisper.

A lazy smile pulls on Austin's lips as he gazes up at you through heavy breaths, your faces close together. You shudder when his finger brushes over your clit, your lips parting.

Austin gazes up at you through lust filled eyes. "All for me," he repeats, crashing his lips against yours. He pushes a finger into your core and you breathe out a moan into the kiss. You lean forward and Austin tilts his head back to accommodate this as you deepen the kiss. You breathe heavily against Austin's lips as he pumps his finger in and out of your core. And while the feeling of Austin's finger inside of you is nothing short of pleasurable, you find yourself yearning for more.

Austin reads your body like he always does, adding another finger into your core. You grind your hips against him, pushing his fingers further inside you. You moan into the kiss, struggling to meet the pace of his kisses as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them in a 'come here' motion which nearly sends you over the edge already.

"Fuck, baby," Austin breathes against your lips. "Got me soaked to the knuckle."

You breathe heavily, and you break the kiss when your jaw goes slack."Fuck, Austin," you breathe out in a moan.

"Fuckin' love it when you say my name, baby." He gazes up at you, studying your features as pleasure graces them. "Say it again." He orders.

"Austin," you whine through heavy breaths.

"Again."

"Austin," you breathe out, your nails digging into the skin on the back of his neck. Suddenly, Austin pulls his fingers out of your core, causing your eyebrows to knit together. "Why'd you stop?"

Austin's fingers fumble to unbuckle his belt. "I need you," he lifts his hips off the couch to pull his jeans down. "Need you_ now."_ Austin crashes his lips into yours, his tongue dominating yours. You meet his pace, your tongue moving with his, and he whimpers into your mouth as you take hold of his rock hard length, and line it up with your entrance. Without breaking the kiss, you slowly lower yourself down onto Austin's length, taking a sharp breath in through your nose at the way he stretches you out. You swear you'll never get used to his size.

You both let out a sigh of relief as your hips meet Austin's, and you cry out, feeling how deep he is. The feeling sends a shiver up your spine. You feel Austin's fingertips digging into the skin of your waist, and the sensation only turns you on even more. A part of you hopes he'll leave marks behind. You drop your forehead against Austin's, the sound of both of your breathing filling the dark room. Slowly, you draw your hips backward before rolling them forward, soon feeling Austin's large hands on your hips to help adopt a rhythm.

"Fuck, baby," Austin breathes out. You can feel his heavy breaths fanning over your face, your foreheads pressed together. "Feels so good. Always so good for me. " He crashes his lips against yours as you ride him, and you moan into the kiss. "You're fuckin' perfect, you know that?" he breathes against your lips.

"Aus," you cry out breathlessly. "Baby, fuck." You throw your head back, your lips parted. "You're so deep."

"Yeah?" You turn your gaze down to meet Austin's at the sound of his voice. He gazes up at you, the moonlight hitting off his blue eyes. The strand of hair hanging over his forehead casts a small shadow over his face. He breathes heavily through his mouth as he looks up at you. He places his hand on your lower stomach and presses down, eliciting a moan from the back of your throat. "Can you feel it, baby?" He takes hold of your hand from the back of his neck and places it on your lower stomach, the spot where his hand was pressed down a few seconds ago. He presses his hand on top of yours, intensifying the feeling of him inside of you. "Feel me here, deep in your tummy? Takin' up all that room?"

Your free hand snakes up from the back of Austin's neck to the back of his head, and your fingers find themselves in his air, pulling on it as you continue to ride him. The pleasure coursing through your body is almost enough to push you over the edge already.

"Austin," you moan his name in pleasure. "Feels so good."

"I know, baby," he says from beneath you, studying your face as your eyes fall closed, your jaw going slack. "That's it, sweetheart." He encourages you as you roll your hips forward with a little more force. "Taking me so well."

You feel Austin intertwining his fingers with yours, removing yours, and his hand from your lower stomach. You open your eyes to meet his gaze as he leads your hand to the back of his head. You know what he wants without him having to say it. Now using both hands, you pull on Austin's hair, studying his face as a deep, guttural groan escapes from the back of his throat. His head falls back against the couch and he gazes up at you through clouded eyes as he breathes heavily through parted lips, some breaths coming out sounding more like moans. You love seeing him like this.

"You're an angel, sweet girl. You're heaven fuckin' sent, I swear it," Austin breathes out.

Your fingers remain threaded in his hair, tugging gently as you lean down to connect your lips with his in a sloppy, needy kiss. You can feel your orgasm building deep in your stomach, and you know you won't be able to last much longer.

"Aus," you drop your forehead against his.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I'm not gonna last much longer."

Next thing you know, Austin takes hold of your hips and flips you over so you're laying down on your back, him on top of you. He holds his weight with his forearms on the couch at either side of your head, thrusting his hips forward into you. You breathe out a moan as his hips meet yours, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, your other squeezing his bicep as you feel your orgasm approaching fast.

"I want you to cum for me, baby," he breathes out as he thrusts into you, each thrust becoming a little harder than the last.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm begins to wash over you, and you cry out Austin's name as you let it all go. Austin's hand quickly snaps over your mouth at the loud volume of your voice, and you moan into the palm of his hand, feeling pure euphoria.

"Shhh," he coos."That's it, baby. Such a good girl for me."

You feel Austin's thrusts becoming sloppier and his orgasm soon hits him at the feeling of you clenching around him. He breathes heavily, dropping his head against your shoulder as he rides you both through your highs. Your fingers release their tight grip around his locks as he moans against the skin of your shoulder, but you keep a hand on the back of his head, holding him close as he cries out for you.

"Fuck, baby," he breathes out. "So fuckin' good. You're always so good for me." You both breathe heavily as you come down from your highs, and as he stills inside of you, Austin's arms give out. You don't mind his weight on top of you, though. You've always found it comforting. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, pressing a gentle kiss onto your skin.

Austin's breathing slowly, but surely becomes less heavy as he lays on top of you. "I love you so much, darling."

You softly run your fingers through his hair, pressing a kid onto the top of his head, smiling softly. "I love you too, baby."

"I hope Emily didn't hear any of that," he says, and your eyes widen.

"Shit!"

//

Thanks for reading<3 If you have any requests, please let me know!

[oh-austin]

lift a finger (austin butler)

summary: in which you're heavily pregnant on the set of elvis and austin is set on making sure you the most comfortable you can be

ask / prompt : Hi! Can you please do one where the reader is pregnant and Austin is just super overprotective and cute! You choose if you want to include the birth and make it extremely fluffy. I just thought this would be amazing.

authors note / warnings: mentions of pregnancy and vomiting! I chose not to put the birth and labour in because I have another piece planned for my inez and austin series coming soon!! we love dad!austin here <3

────── ∘◦❀◦∘

Nearing the end of your pregnancy, you thought you had faced the worst of it and it would be smooth sailing from here on out. Boy were you wrong.

It was hard being pregnant and married to an actor, the busy schedules and flying from location to location was hard to keep up with, but when you’re married to the man portraying Elvis Presley.. that’s a whole other story.

Austin constantly doted on you whenever he was given the opportunity, but since you were often at home whilst he was shooting- you never really gave him the chance. But since you were met with braxton hicks last week, your doctor has recommended always being in someone’s company; Austin made sure he was that someone.

If Austin was filming a scene in the hot sun, you were sitting under a sunshade in his chair. If the call time was until eleven o’clock at night, you were asleep nearby. Austin made sure he always had you close and somewhere that he could see you.

Usually, you wouldn’t complain about getting to see Austin work. Watching him in his element was truly something special, but over the last few days you’ve just wanted to lounge around in bed and maybe finish the nursery. But here you were, sat next to a bail of hay nearing nine pm as Austin and Tom filmed the carnival scenes.

“How you feeling, mamas?” Austin looked just delicious walking over to you in his black lace shirt. Reminded you of how you got pregnant in the first place. “You’re glowing,” He complimented you.

“I don’t feel like I’m glowing,” You admitted to him. It was a warm summer night in Queensland, the humidity was not your friend. Being in the northern parts of Australia came with its perks, the heat wasn’t one of them- especially when you’re eight months pregnant. “Your child has been kicking me all day,”

“My child, huh?” Austin laughed, he almost seemed offended. “How’s your stomach? Still feelin’ sick?”

“I don’t know if I’m just nauseous because I’m pregnant or because they’re moving so much,” You rubbed your hand over your belly, “But I’m starting not to care,”

“Did you want to head back to the trailer? Have you got water?” Austin looked around, “I asked to get you water like three takes ago,” Austin’s voice became frustrated when he noticed you only had your bag next to you, no water in sight.

“Hey, it’s okay! These people are here for you, not me,” You reminded him, “I don’t need water, I’m fine,” You reached for Austin’s hand the best you could and placed it on top of your belly. Like your baby knew that their daddy was there, a strong kick made you jolt in your seat.

“Hey!” Austin laughed, “You should be asleep, little miss,”

“We don’t even know if it’s a girl yet,” It was true, your gender reveal idea was canned as soon as filming picked up. Everyone that you really wanted to attend was in a different country anyway, so there really wasn’t much of a point. That and Austin loved surprises, but he was set on your baby being a little girl.

“Oh, she’s a girl,” Austin crouched down, giving your belly a kiss, “Ain’t that right, Pres?” Austin had been adamant that you were going to name your child Presley. She was made on set baby, only fair we name him after the man who brought us here, he would argue. You weren’t letting that happen.

Austin Butler, the man who played Elvis Presley named his daughter after him? You could see the headlines now.

“We’re not calling her Presley!” You tilted his chin up to look at you.

Austin’s face broke out in a cheeky grin as he stood back up, “You said she’s a girl,” He sang. As Baz called him back over to reshoot the scene, Austin danced away from you joking whilst softly chanting ‘girl, girl, girl’. You shook your head at him and laughed.

Soon, Baz had Austin film some solo shots at the carnival, making use of the set whilst they were here. Whilst Austin was busy shooting, Tom soon made his way over to you.

“Y/N, how are you?” He asked. Tom might have been one of the most genuine men you had ever met. Soft spoken and kind, he had the ability to make anyone feel safe and calm.

“I’m tired,” You admitted to him, “Probably not as tired as you are in that costume,” Tom looked barely anything like himself, it was incredible really.

“You get used to it,” He chuckled, taking a seat down in the chair next to yours, “How much longer now?” He asked.

“Three weeks,” Your eyes widened, your heart would always race whenever you admitted it out loud. Soon, you and Austin would no longer be a family of two- forever three of you.

“Wow!” He marvelled, “Not long then. The first one is always an adventure,”

“She’s been a pretty big adventure,” You laughed, patting your belly, “I’ll tell you that,” You felt a kick back in response.

“So you’re having a girl! How exciting,” Tom sat forwards the best he could, he was always so attentive in any conversation. “My second child was a girl, I love being her dad- Austin’s gonna love it too,”

“Well, we don’t know if it’s a girl, Austin just thinks it is,” You told him. Tom watched as you looked across the carnival and over at Austin, he could see the admiration in your eyes for him. Reminded him of his wife and himself. “We don’t even have a name yet,”

“Well what names do you like?” He asked.

You thought to yourself for a second, “I like Harper for a girl, Austin doesn’t like it though,” You laughed, “He says it doesn’t ‘work’”

“You’ll know when you find the right name,” Tom admitted, “You’ll understand what he means when he says ‘it works’, I promise you that,” He laughed.

“Thank you, Tom” You turned back to look at him. After a few more minutes of conversation, Baz called Tom back for another couple scenes and you were sat alone once more. Well, not completely alone- and your baby was definitely trying to remind you of that.

The longer that you sat, the more sick you began to feel. Your stomach felt like it was cramping and turning at the same time. You tried some deep breaths to calm yourself down, but you couldn’t.

Austin’s manager noticed that you weren’t feeling well, once you had to rest your head in your hands.

“Y/N, you okay?” James leant down and spoke with a quiet voice, knowing you weren’t someone who wanted the attention on themselves.

You shook your head and swallowed the lump in your throat. “I think I’m gonna be sick,”

James, with a gentle hand on your back, lead you back to Austin’s trailer and helped you into the bathroom. It was hard for you to get close to the ground these days, but at that moment- your body knew you needed to.

You threw up your dinner, your throat burned as you dry heaved over the toilet. James was kind enough to hold your hair back for you. After a few minutes, you were rested against the wall of Austin’s bathroom, James passing you a bottle of water from the miniature fridge. You thanked him softly and apologised to him.

James asked if you would be okay as you begged him to go back to work, not needing people to watch over you. You were pregnant, not helpless. So James went back to set as you sat there taking slow sips of your water.

As Baz yelled cut and announced that they were now wrapped for the night, Austin was relieved that he could now spend the rest of his night with his wife and their baby. But as he looked over to where she was supposed to be, he found his chair empty.

He should’ve noticed you were gone. Austin mentally cursed himself, always his own biggest critic. He was too invested in filming the scene he could spare a single glance over at you, he was so stupid, he thought to himself.

“James!” Austin called over to his manager. James looked nervous as he rushed over to Austin.

“I’ve just come from the trailers,” James explained, Austin noticed his uneasy nature, “Y/N has been sick, so I’ve left her in there to rest,”

“Shit!” Austin sighed, already leaving the conversation once he heard you weren’t well, “Why don’t people come and tell me these things!” He shouted back at James, “She’s pregnant!”

Austin wasn’t an angry person, he wasn’t someone to express his feelings of frustration. Rather keep them to himself and write them down in his journal later. But when it came to you and his baby, it was a different story.

Austin was overcome with anger when he saw you sitting on the bathroom floor, struggling to get back up. “Mamas, what are you doin’ down there?” Even when upset, the Elvis drawl stayed with Austin. He rushed over to you and put an arm underneath you, ready to help you to your feet.

“I was sick, I’m just trying to get up and brush my teeth,” You explained to Austin. As soon as you were back on your feet, your ankles ached once more- oh they joys of motherhood.

“Sick? How bad?” Austin put his hand to your forehead, trying to feel for a fever, “You need me to get the doctor? She’s probably not left yet-“

“Austin,” You cupped his face with your hands, “I’m okay,”

He seemed to calm down visibly in your embrace. Austin leant into your soft touch. “Promise me you’re okay?”

“I promise! I’m just pregnant, pregnant people throw up” You talked slower to try and bring Austin back down to earth. You took a few breaths with Austin before letting go of his face, going to grab your toothbrush from the bench.

“No,” Austin beat you to it, “You’re not allowed to lift a finger for the rest of the night, you’re on my time now,”

You rolled your eyes at him, taking your toothbrush back. “Aren’t you on the clock?”

“As of five minutes ago? No, no I’m not,” Austin smirked, “So, brush your teeth and get in bed,”

“Did you want to brush them for me?” You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Shh,” Austin grabbed your face softly and kissed your head, “Get brushing,”

Although Austin was doting and protective over you, you knew that Tom was right- Austin was going to be a great dad to your little girl.

[samaraannhan20]

Austin Butler: College AU! Hostage Situation

Warnings: age gap, college! reader, I think that's all

inspired by this tik tok

“Are you sure you have to leave tomorrow night?” I ask Austin as I walk back into our bedroom. 

“Yes,” he says with a light chuckle, and I groan, throwing my head back and staring at the ceiling as I walk towards the bed. 

“Really? Can’t you stay just another day?” I say, climbing onto the bed and promptly onto Austin’s lap. 

“I wish. Press starts the afternoon after I get in though. I have to leave on time,” he responds, leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine. 

“Have I ever told you how little I enjoy the press season?” I ask him, and he laughs. 

“Yes, all the time,” he says with a laugh, and then leans forward pressing another peck onto my lips. “However, after this press tour you’ll almost be done with school, and will be able to come with me on the Bikeriders press tour, since it got pushed.”

“That’s true. I know that the strike was awful and it sucked that you couldn’t promote your stuff, but selfishly I was glad to have that extra time with you, especially since it was right around when we started planning our wedding.”

“Yeah we were lucky and we got too used to it. But I’ll only be gone for a month this time, and then I’ll be here and we can keep working on wedding stuff, and you can graduate, and then we can go on vacation and the next press tour together,” he says, squeezing my waist where his hands are resting. 

“I don’t want to go thirty days without you though. That’s forever,” I say, and lay my head down on his chest. 

“It’s not the longest we’ve been apart though,” he responds, and I roll off of him and onto my back on my side of the bed, laying on my back.

“I know. But it’s going to feel like forever. Especially since we’re missingValentines Day, and our anniversary a week later,” I say, rolling onto my side to look at him. He shifts down and lays down on his side as well, reaching a hand out and gently stroking my cheek. 

“It’ll be okay. It won’t be the first holiday we miss, and it probably won’t be the last.” I sigh and lean into his hand, and we fall asleep in exactly that position. 

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Good morning honey,” I say as I turn over when I wake up in the morning. Austin just grumbles in response.

Oh, I think to myself. I didn’t think he’d want to sleep in today since he has to leave this evening and he hasn’t even packed. Oh well. I guess I could go wash my face and brush my teeth while I wait. I get out of bed and head to the bathroom. 

When I come back into the room a few minutes later Austin still hasn’t moved, so I decide to walk over to his side of the bed. I squat down on the floor and look at him, trying to decide whether or not I want to wake  him up. I ultimately decide against it, and stand up to leave, before noticing his phone on the bedside table. I quietly grab what I need and head into the closet to get dressed for the day.

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“Hey darlin?” Austin asks a couple hours later when he walks into the living room, where I’ve been watching tv while he packs.

“What’s up?” I ask, pausing the television and turning to look at him over the back of the couch. “How’s packing going?”

“I’m almost done, but do you know where my phone charger is?” he asks.

“I think I saw it in the kitchen while I was making breakfast,” I respond, turning back to the television and hoping he doesn’t notice the flush on my cheeks. 

“Really? Did you move it there? Because my phone was fully charged on the nightstand when I woke up this morning,” he responds, and I slide down a bit on the couch, focusing all my attention on the tv.

“That’s weird. I didn’t move it. It was just there when I made breakfast. You must have left it there after dinner last night.”

“But I know I plugged it in last night, in the bedroom. So how was it 100% charged when I woke up if I left the charger in the kitchen last night?” he asks, rounding the couch to stand in front of the tv, making me focus on him.

“Um… I plead the fifth?” I say quietly, sliding even further down the couch. 

“Darlin, are you trying to hold me hostage with a phone charger?” he asks, coming towards me and squatting down to look me in the eyes from where I am now laying on the couch. 

“... yes.”

“You do know I’ll be back in about a month, right?” he says, reaching out and taking my hands in his. 

“Yeah, but what if I can’t make it that long? I’m kinda impatient when it comes to spending time with you,” I respond, sitting up a little in order to talk to him easier. 

“Kinda like how you begged me to come back from Ashley’s earlier than I had planned on so we could cuddle the other night?” he asks with a teasing lilt in his voice. 

“Yes. Except now I can’t just ask you to come home early because you can’t. Plus… I have to wait an entire 30 days til I see you again?! That’s like… 720 HOURS!”

“That was… extremely accurate,” he says, trying not to laugh.

“It’s not funny. I did the math when I woke up this morning and you weren’t awake yet. I was bored and lonely,” I say, slinking away from him and back into the couch. 

“You could have woken me up,” he says, reaching out and squeezing my thigh as he places his hand on it. 

“That’s a lot of hours that I’m going to spend missing you.”

“You’re cute when you’re being dramatic, you know that right?” he asks, and I playfully stick my tongue out at him.  “You do know, distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

“I think it just means I don’t get kisses.”

“I don’t either,” he responds, reaching out and placing his hand on my cheek, rubbing it softly. I melt a little, leaning even closer to him, while consciously trying not to knock him over as I lean in. “I know that leaving isn’t ideal. I know I won’t get to give you back rubs. I won’t be able to make you tea in the morning or do your homework with you. But, you know that’ll change at some point, right?”

“Yes…”

“And you know,” he kisses my forehead, “that I’ll message and video call you as much as possible right?”

“Mhm. But that’s 2d. It’s not the same.”

“You’re right. It’s not. That just means I gotta appreciate the little things. Like right now.”

“Seee, you don’t wanna leave either.”

“Lovely, if I wanted to leave already, I would have grabbed the charger from the closet. Where I saw you put it while I was laying down,” he says, and I pull away, standing up and knocking him over in the process.

“YOU FAKED BEING ASLEEP?!”

“YOU HID MY CHARGER?!” he responds, laughing from his spot, sprawled out on the floor. 

“Touche,” I say, holding out a hand to help him off the floor. He takes it, and instead of standing up, yanks me down to the floor. I land on top of him with a groan escaping my lips as he wraps his arms tightly around me. “ I would have given it to you eventually. Like after lunch,” I say when I catch my breath.  He laughs, and shakes his head.

“No you wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Compromise,” he says, reaching up and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “I won’t get it out of the closet until after lunch, and until then we can spend some time together watching Dance Moms reruns.”

“JOJO! HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING!” I scream in his face, quickly standing up and running away. He cracks up as he stands up and chases after me. He catches me and pulls me into him, smothering my face and neck in kisses. 

“I take that as a yes?” he says as he peppers kisses up and down my neck. 

“Duh.”

“Touche,” he says, and then turns around and pats my thighs. I laugh and jump onto his back, and he carries me over to the couch, dropping me down on it, and then sitting down next to me and pulling my legs onto his lap. 

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“So, what do you want for lunch?” I ask a few episodes of Dance Moms later.

“I’m not sure. But what’s the rush in choosing? We can take our time.” I sigh and curl into his side more than I already was, and press a kiss to his shoulder. 

“I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” he says, and takes my chin in his hand, leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine. When he pulls away he smiles. “One last couch Chipotle date before I leave?”

“When have I ever said no to that? But also I hope you don’t expect me to not have Chipotle the entire time you’re gone. I could never do that,” I say, and he laughs, pulling me back into him for another kiss.

[ranaissingle]

Hi! I think you’re writing is so cool! How do you feel about writing something with Austin proposing to reader in like the cutest loving way?!

Are You Gonna Be My Girl ?

Masterlist Fandom: Austin Butler Rating: T Word Count: 906 Warnings: commitment issues, straight fluff otherwise tho. A/N: I love this idea! I'm sorry it's a bit late I finished writing this days ago and had it set to automatically post at 9 pm but Lisa Marie passed away earlier that day and it didn’t feel right to post this right after that so I decided to wait a couple days out of respect. I hope you enjoy it!

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You and Austin had been together for a little over 3 years and had started dating when he wrapped up the filming of Elvis. Your relationship progressed quite slowly due to the fact that his last relationship was a 7-year one and commitment on that level scared him away from serious dating for years after his breakup.

You weren't one to push either. Although you would have liked for him to ask you out sooner, you were content with the casual coffee meet-ups and late-night movie theatre soiree. So when he did eventually ask you out, he was certain to pull out all of the stops because he had felt horrible making you wait for so long while he got himself together.

It was safe to say that you were the best decision of his life, to say the least. Austin had never felt truly loved in a relationship before. He always felt like there was an underlying motive for his escapades. Be it because they were more successful than him or the other way around. None of those relationships felt like just that, a relationship. It was always more of an exchange rather than anything else. But with you, it was different. He didn't need to try with you. He could just be, and that was more than enough for you.

He had this date planned for weeks. You were going to spend the whole day together. He was going to wake up late in bed with you wrapped around him, serenade you with brunch while he pawed your fingers under the table, woo you with a peaceful day at the art museum filled with forehead kisses and side hugs, and then reel you in with a 5-course meal at the most delicious seafood restaurant that new york had to offer. He had the whole proposal planned out the seafood restaurant had a private dining room in the back. When you both finished dessert and were washing down the last of whatever cake you chose to share with wine, he was going to get on one knee and ask you to spend the rest of your lives together.

Of course, Austin had to make it to the dinner to be able to propose to you then. But seeing you walking around your shares apartment with messy hair, a mug of tea, and the house cat in your arms was doing wonders to make Austin's job difficult. There was absolutely no chance he was going to make it to dinner at this rate. He was completely and utterly doomed, and he wasn't even mad about it.

Screw it, you both could still enjoy the festivities he had planned originally even if he proposed right this second. He reached into the drawer of the nightstand to pull out the velvet-covered box with all of his hopes and dreams for the future tucked inside. He thought he did a pretty good job picking out the ring. You weren't a fan of the more classic engagement so he went for something different albeit just as beautiful.

He walked out of the bedroom and over to where you were cuddled on the couch with the cat.

" Hey, do you mind if I steal you from the cat for a sec? I have something I need to ask you?" His voice wavered as he spoke. The nervousness was kicking in and his hands began to shake.

"Of course baby" You smiled and lifted the cat from your lap and got up to follow him back into the bedroom. Austin closed the door behind you both as he put his back to the wall and took a deep breath.

" Are you alright Austin? You're looking a little red. Is everything okay darling?" Your worried tone as you stepped close to him only made him fall for you more.

"Baby I love you so much. I had a whole day planned out so that I could ask you in a way that was more fitting but I just couldn't wait anymore." He saw the confusion and worry creep its way onto your face as he spoke but he kept going all the same.

" I want to spend the rest of my life with you, love. I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night. I want to keep bringing you a late in the morning so that I can see your face light up and order sushi for us when we don't wanna go out. I love you so much I don't know what to do with myself when you aren't around. So, I guess I'm saying all of this to ask you, will you-" His throat choked up before he could finish. He hadn't made eye contact with you the entire speech because he was terrified of seeing your face. Nonetheless, he swallowed thickly and finished.

" Will you marry me, love" He heard a sob leave your lips as you scaled the space in between you in record time to kiss him. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck as you cried happy tears into his neck. You pulled away to clasp his face in between your hands and look into his eyes.

"Yes, a thousand times yes Austin! I love you so mu-" His kiss cut you off. His lips were soft and plush against yours as he hugged you impossibly closer.

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Done! I hope you enjoyed it!

[sargeant-bxrnes]

thirty seconds. [a.b]

summary; austin has to leave bed early in the morning to go to work, but promises to stay if you manage to keep him in bed for over 30 seconds.

warnings: lots dirty talk, teasing, fingering, biting?, slight d/s dynamic, unprotected, rough sex, creampie, this one is nastyyy.

word count: 3.5K.

my masterlist!

The feeling of Austin's body moving beside you woke you from your slumber, you heard him let out a yawn, his body unconsciously inching closer to yours while you slowly blinked your sleep away.

"Good mornin'," his deep voice greeted you, raspy from sleep.

You gazed at him, admiring how attractive he looked. His deep voice, his warm, soft skin against yours, and the memories of what happened last night prompted you to press your lips to his.

Austin was certainly surprised, but not displeased. He pursued the kiss, placing a hand on your cheek as you placed yours on his bicep, squeezing it gently.

"Good mornin'" you mumbled in between kisses, barely pulling away for long enough.

"What time is it?" Austin mumbled, pulling away from your lips, but maintaining his hand on your cheek.

Not wanting him to focus on that right now, you pulled him closer again, his soft pink lips pressing against yours as he gave in momentarily, getting lost in the feeling of your kiss.

Eventually though, Austin pulled away again and looked over your shoulder, taking a look at the clock placed on your bedside table.

"It's 8 already," he mumbled over your lips, pressing quick kisses in between words. "I gotta get ready for work, baby."

"No, you don't." you assured, as confident as you could, once kissing him deeply, trying to keep him focused on you.

"Yes, I do." he said over your lips, it was a miracle you'd understood his words.

"No, you don't," you said, pulling back far enough for you to be able to stare at his face entirely. "You could stay here, with me."

"Oh, I would love to," Austin assured, his blue eyes moving down to your lips almost instantly, like they were naturally drawn to them. "But I gotta go."

"Mmm... I don't think so." you said confidently, already planning something. The movie director had told you Austin could have some days off, he let you know beforehand so you could ease the idea into Austin, since your boyfriend is always hellbent on working and not wanting to rest until it was done.

"Baby, don't make this hard for me, I don't want to leave, but I have to." Austin almost groaned, he didn't want to leave you, of course not, but he had responsibilities to attend to.

"No, you're not going anywhere, mister," you said with an amused smile, making Austin smile and raise both eyebrows. "I'll hold you here if I have to."

"You'll hold me?" Austin scoffed, not meaning to offend you in any way.  "And how will you do that?"

"I'll–" you had no idea of how to do it. "I'll pin you down."

"Pin me–" Austin chuckled, running a hand through his curls as he looked at you. "You're strong, I'll give you that, but I'm stronger."

He was stronger, and you knew it. Still, you wanted to test this theory, who knows? Maybe you got lucky and found a way to overpower him. Sure, he's 5'11 ft tall with an athletic physique but... you had hopes. They must count for something, right?

"I will still find a way to keep you here." you assured with a knowing smirk, the one he mirrored— it was hard to tell if he'd read your intentions or if he just thought you were cute for believing you had any chance against him.

"Will you now?" he inquired.

Sensing the challenge, you rolled closer to him and pinned both his arms against the bed, holding each with one hand. Austin looked up at you, trying to hold a laugh down. He could feel your efforts on trying to keep him down, but all it took was for him to sit down for you to topple off him.

"Am I supposed to feel trapped, without an escape?" he ironically asked you, his eyes moving down to your lips once, twice, thrice. "You know what? Maybe I'm being too harsh on you. Let's make a deal, alright?"

"I'm listening." you said, not letting go of his wrists.

"If you somehow manage to keep me in this bed for thirty seconds..." he conditioned, biting his lower lip as his eyes found yours again. "I'll stay here."

"Really?" you asked, surprised and enticed by his proposal.

"Yup, so go on baby, try your best."

You let go of his wrists and sat straight, trying to think of something to keep Austin down. It was nearly impossible, to be fair, he was strong enough to push you away whenever he wanted, and tall enough for you to be unable to cover his limbs in entirety.

So, you acted desperate. Because lowkey, you were.

Clearly not thinking about your odds, you leant to the front and wrapped both hands around his left arm, effectively pinning it down to the bed, securing it tightly.

"Nice," Austin admitted, shrugging his free shoulder. "Two hands to pin one of my arms down, great planning."

He was mocking you, damn him. You moved closer to him, sitting on his waist this time, using your body weight to try and keep him down, pressed against the mattress.

"Ooooh," Austin nearly smirked, biting his lip as he nodded his head in agreement, liking your new tactic. "I mean, you could for sure sit there but then..."

With ease, he wrapped his free arm around your body and effectively rolled you both around in bed, so this way he'd be on top of you, his body keeping yours down and his beautiful face inches away from yours. His naked chest was pressed against your breasts, and you could feel him getting hard against your thigh.

Not giving up, you tried to wiggle your way out, tried to sneak away from him, but Austin wasn't having it. He chuckled and reacted quickly, wrapping one big hand around both your wrists and pinning them to the bed.

"One hand to keep both your arms down," Austin mumbled, looking deep into your eyes. "What are you gonna do now?"

Without a word, you tried to push him away with your legs, but it didn't work since Austin placed his legs on top of yours and used his own weight to pin you down, completely immobilized you under him.

"You're trapped," he said with a shiteating grin. "So I win, I'm stronger."

"No, actually, I win," you pointed out, smirking at him and turning your head to the clock to take a look at the time. "You've been here for two minutes."

Austin looked at the clock and realized you were right, you'd won and managed to keep him in bed for over thirty seconds, sure, he'd won and overpowered you quickly, but you'd kept him with you either way.

You could see the gears turning behind Austin's eyes, the hue of blue getting darker as an idea came to mind, you knew him well enough to tell he was planning something, and if the position you're in is anything to go by, you're going to like his plan.

"Oh, would you look at this?" he mocked surprise, blue eyes wide and jaw dropped. "Look who's pinned to the bed now? I have my hand wrapping yours, my legs are pinning yours down and... guess what? I still have a free hand, to do with it as I please."

Now that you knew you'd have him with you all morning, you allowed yourself to smile victoriously, feeling proud of your accomplishments and of course, your flawless plotting.

"This is what you wanted all along, wasn't it?" Austin questioned, understanding everything. You knew he'd overpower you, even before trying.

"Of course not." you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes in a mocking manner.

"No?" he asked and you shook your head, trying to keep the game up for as long as you could. "So it wouldn't have any effect on you, like at all, if I do this?"

Before you got the chance to ask what he was talking about, Austin moved his face away from yours and down to your chest, he hovered over your left breast before pressing a kiss against it, to then wrap his lips around your nipple, sucking slightly before pulling away and giving the other nipple the same attention.

His tongue swirled around your nipple and you swallowed heavily, trying to keep your act together, a whimper threatening to spill from your lips. "O-of course not."

"Right..." Austin mumbled, knowing fully well that you were probably dripping wet already. "Then I guess I'm free to do this, too."

He moved his face down again, only this time it was his teeth, the ones that scraped against your nipple as he bit gently, pulling with his lips, making your back arch and a whimper escape your lips instantly, the stimulation feeling great. Austin knew just how sensitive your tits were, which explains why he immediately moved his lips to the other and repeated the manner, biting softly.

"Please..." you said, wanting to feel more of his touch.

"Oh no, you wanted me here in bed with you," he rasped out, his breath over your nipple sent shivers down your spine. "So you'll take what I'll give you, like a good girl."

Your hips involuntarily moved upwards, but Austin made sure to pin them down when he moved his body up again, so his face would be at your neck level— where he began to kiss. At first it was soft, barely a caress, but then his lips pressed harder against your skin until his teeth dragged against it, threatening to bite, only to suck after.

The feeling of his lips against your neck was maddening. It made you want nothing more than to turn your bodies around and ride the life out of him— so foolishly, you attempted to do so, starting your plan by trying to squirm away, but of course, he didn't let you.

To keep you under his control, Austin took a hold of your head and pulled it back, exposing your neck to his lips, your skin as his mercy for him to lick, bite, kiss and suck as much as he pleased. He could feel you getting restless under him, and Austin enjoyed it thoroughly, he LIVED to tease you.

"Please Austin..." you begged, needing to feel more.

"Please what?" he pulled back, wanting to know what you wanted, whether it was for him to stop teasing, to focus somewhere else, or if you wanted to stop— he would if you asked him to.

"I need more," you expressed, trying to find his eyes with your own.

"Hm, I guess I could send this hand..." he said, showing you the hand that was holding your head down. "Lower."

"Yes–" it was almost ridiculous how relieved you sounded.

"Here?" Austin asked, placing his hand at your clavicle, the tips of his fingers trailing over your skin teasingly.

"No, lower."

"Here?" he repeated the question, pressing his hand on your belly, pinning your lower half down.

"Aus, please–" his teasing was beginning to get you restless, not that you didn't enjoy feeling like that but, for god sake, he was driving you insane. "Lower."

"Here, then?" he asked, tantalizingly slow, his hand slowly moving lower and lower until it disappeared between your legs. "Fuck, you're dripping wet, baby, all that just for teasing you? God, I can't imagine how wet you'll be when I fuck you."

His words sounded twice as dirty when he uttered them with that raspy voice of his, traces of southern accent still adorning his words as he spoke them with such certainty, it almost made you let out a whiny whimper.

His long, slender fingers began to tease you, spreading your wetness across your lips. Then, he drove his fingers up to your clit, slowly starting to rub in circular motions, pressing down slightly. His motions were slow, meticulous, giving you the right amount of pleasure so you'd beg for more.

You tried to press your legs together to get more friction, Austin noticed, of course, and he showed it by pulling his hand away and spreading your legs wider, opening you up for him.

"Fuck..." you let out a half moan half groan, throwing your head back against the pillow as two of his fingers burried inside you, expertly pulling in and out of you– he curled them in a come hither motion at the right moment, hitting your spot with efortlessness. "Oh my– Austin—"

"That's it," he said, eyes dark with lust as he observed you squirming under him, his eyes moving down to see his fingers disappearing inside your pussy, to come out glistening with your juices, the ones that had begun to drip down to the bedsheets. "Goddamn it, I love how you moan my name."

As he fingered you, he drove his thumb up to your clit, starting to rub at a certain rhythm that he knew drove you wild— he was using every single trick he knew to please you, using every single one of your weak spots to make you crumble.

He felt you starting to clench around his fingers, making it almost impossible for him to move them– you were close and he could tell. Austin felt generous, wanting you to reach your climax sooner. Without a word, he drove his lips to your chest again, twirling his tongue about one nipple and then biting the other, and vice versa. All while he kept his amazing pace with his fingers.

Your moans were getting louder now, you were unable to remain quiet as his fingers curled against your spot and his lips sucked your nipples till they almost hurt, you couldn't cover your mouth since he kept his hold on your wrists– so all you could do was try to bite your lip, only to let it go seconds after in a failed attempt to keep quiet.

Austin was enjoying this, feeling you squirming under him, hearing your desperate moans and the sound of his name leaving your lips like a fucking prayer, not to mention your pussy wrapping his fingers greedily, not wanting to let them go.

He could probably spend the rest of his life like this. But... his dick was killing him. It was painfully hard now, he'd started to leak and he feared his dick would explode if he didn't use it to fuck you soon.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." you began to mumble quickly, feeling your orgasm arriving, a wave of pleasure running close to shore, about to invade your body but— he pulled his fingers out of you at once. "Austin!"

"Tch, tch..." he tutted you, his eyes focused on yours. "Don't get greedy with me."

"But— But-I was about to–"

"Oh I know," he assured you with a cocky smile, making you let out a frustrated groan. "Is it really a crime that I want to make you cum with my cock instead?"

That was effective in shutting you up, your legs spread wider as you maintained eye contact, wetting your lips slightly as you nervously awaited for his next move, or his next word.

"That's what I thought." Austin said, voice incredibly deep now as he now wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping it a few times as he slowly began to line himself up with you.

He slowly pushed himself into you, letting you feel absolutely EVERYTHING. Every curve, every vein. Everything.

The deep groan he let out right next to your ear as he pushed inside you made you instantly clench your walls around him, making it hard for him to move.

"Goddamn, fuck..." he groaned, pressing a borderline agressive kiss against your neck. "Holy shit, you feel so good wrapped around me."

"Plea–" a moan interrupted your pleading. Austin started to thrust, building up a pace as his cock slid and out of you, stretching you with every pump, the feeling was bittersweet, the stretch burned, but the pleasure made up for it. "Aus– oh my– fuck, right there."

"Right here?" he asked, thrusting harder and pressing the tip against a certain point inside you. "I can feel you clenching 'round me, darlin'. So fucking good."

You were getting desperate to touch him, his hold on your wrists hadn't relented and the lack of touch was driving you crazy. Austin's mind wasn't far from sharing the same thoughts, since he looked at your eyes before speaking again.

"I'm gonna let your hands go," he said and started thrusting slower, it was hard to know if he wanted you to focus on his words or not. "So I can take a hold of your hips and fuck you right."

You nodded, but still had the intention to roll you both around and start riding him, wanting to chase your own orgasm and tease him for a while. As soon as Austin let go of your hands, you tried to turn the situation around, to no avail though, for he chuckled and took a tight grip on your hips, the one would surely leave finger shaped bruises in your skin.

"Oh, havin' an attitude?" he quirked, smirking as his lips teased yours, barely pressing a kiss. "Guess I'll have to fuck it out of you."

The last word left his lips and a deep, sharp, hard thrust followed, and then another, marking the beginning of a ravaging pace that would for sure lead you right to your orgasm. His cock dove into you hard, fast and deep, touching parts of you that only he could— he had you at his mercy, doing whatever he wanted with you, and you loved that.

"So good, fuck–" you moaned, eyes rolling at the back of your head as his dick pressed against your g-spot repeatedly. "Austin– ah f-f..– baby please..."

You were just rambling at that point, begging, pleading, praising, asking, not one coherent sentence left your lips, just words and moans and his name— Austin felt proud of what he was doing to you, he was fucking you dumb, leaving you barely able to speak.

He moved his body closer to you, entrapping you under him as he placed an arm next to your head and dove his face back to your neck, kissing messily around it, wet kisses being placed all over your neck as his dick kept fucking you closer and closer to your orgasm.

The first clench came, and then the second, your moans began to get high-pitched and your hips attempted to chase his— all of those were clear signs that you were about to cum.

"I can recognize those pretty moans everywhere," Austin rasped in your ear, his hips snapping against yours. "You wanna cum, don't you?"

"Fuck, yes, yes, please."

"Do it," he allowed you, his pace getting impossibly better, going deeper, faster, harsher. "Cum around my cock baby, c'mon, cum for me."

His words basically eased you into it, his dick hit all the right spots, and with a loud whail of his name, you came around him, clenching your walls so tight Austin thought he was about to come as well. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, chasing his own in the process.

The overstimulation felt oddly delicious as he kept moving in and out of you, his thrusts getting sloppier and his hips stuttering until eventually, Austin let out a groan from the depths of his chest and came, filling you up until the last drop.

Both of you were panting heavily by then, but Austin didn't care, he still pressed his lips against yours and kissed you passionately, his tongue going inside your mouth, lips capturing yours– he was still inside you, so he definitely felt you clench around him when he bit your lower lip.

It was only when he felt entirely out of breath that he pulled away, allowing you to breathe properly now. Your eyes instantly connected with his, a smile teasing the edge of your lips.

"That was..."

"I don't know what took over me–" Austin was about to apologize for his behaviour, but you interrupted him with a kiss.

"It was fucking amazing." you assured with a huge smile.

"It was," he admitted, his sweet smile turning into a smirk.

"What?" you asked, knowing he was up to something, AGAIN.

"I'm still inside you," he pointed out, pressing a kiss against your jaw. "We don't have plans today so..."

"Is this you, asking for round two?" you asked teasingly, finding it hard to believe that he was being shy all of a sudden, especially after he fucked you like that.

"Absolutely." he admitted without hesitation. "You feel so perfect wrapped around me like this, with my cum dripping out... it would be a shame to pull out."

And just like that, you placed your hand on the back of his head, tangled your fingers in his hair, and pulled his face down to yours, your lips crashing in a hungry kiss that did nothing but escalate from there.