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burninlovebutler · 1 year

Text

Just an Intern // Part 3

pairing: austin x makeup artist!reader | word count: 8.7k-ish

warnings: angst, smut, FLUFF???, confusing arrogant asshole!austin, one bed, alcohol, hot tub 👀, fingering, play fighting, lots of dialogue, fries lore lol, truth or dare, name calling, physical altercation, yelling, screaming, crying, i am so sorry (but not really), 18+ MDNI

summary: while the set of Bikeriders remains buried under snow, you're imprisoned at the nearest ski lodge, in the last vacancy with none other than your arch nemesis. as the novelty of a packed resort wears off quickly, you find yourself on a drunken adventure led by an unexpected partner in crime... literally.

PART 1 | PART 2 | see my masterlist for all other fics ♡

vibes: just an intern spotify playlist ⛓️

Let's cause a little trouble Oh, you make me feel so weak I bet you kiss your knuckles Right before they touch my cheek

But I've got my mind, made up this time 'Cause there's a menace in my bed

Can you see his silhouette?

A glaring white morning light lulled you from your slumber. You were so warm and comfortable…. too warm and comfortable. Your eyes shot open and your body stilled completely the minute you sensed a heavy arm that was wrapped around your waist and a body pressed against your backside.

What the fuck

Last night’s events raced through your mind, remembering your transgressions with the actor vividly, but the end was quite fuzzy. All you remembered was going to shower then coming out to a completely dark room with Austin sleeping at the far edge of the twin sized bed, facing away from you. Then you slipped into bed, turned the opposite direction and fell asleep.

How the fuck did you end up being little spoon to the man that told you he’d rather rot in hell than sleep next to you. You stared at the wooden wall, following each swirl as if it would give you the answer to get out from this death trap of impending doom. You decided to take the plunge and try to slip from his grasp. A slight sleepy groan rumbled behind you made your eyes squeeze shut, like you were expecting a bomb to go off.

You knew exactly the song and dance it would ensue – some furious accusation and an insult.

Much to your surprise you felt him freeze just as you did then try to escape quietly. The realization hit that he perhaps didn’t know you were awake either. I mean realistically what would he reprimand you for? He was wrapped around you, what was he going to claim? That you forced him to play big spoon?

You chose to keep your place, taking advantage of the predisposition that you were still asleep. Besides it would give you just a sliver of peace before you had to go back to his ‘Intern’. There was a slight tug of sheets, then a cold emptiness when he pulled from the mattress.

He let out another hushed grunt then, “Fuck.” He mumbled to himself silently. You curiously opened one eye to observe him. He rounded the bed going to the dresser, tapping his fingertips across the top like he was looking for something. His hand landed on a pair of black rimmed glasses you hadn’t noticed when you went to bed in the dark. You couldn’t help but prop up a subtle brow.

Wanting to savor this little secret you stumbled upon, you decided to ‘wake up’ giving a performative stretch before cocooning yourself in the duvet. “Glasses huh?” You held back a ‘caught ya’ smirk, then a stifled giggle when you noticed him jump a tiny bit at the surprise.

He turned at the startle and instantly rolled his eyes. He hadn’t been awake not even 5 minutes and he was already annoyed with you. “Yes, I wear glasses, big whoop.”

“Well, I just didn’t know.” You tugged your bottom lip in trying not to laugh at his obviously embarrassed reaction.

“There’s lots of things you don’t know about me, Intern.” He spat back, turning to the phone ringing – to the tune of… Burnin Love? by Elvis? You were learning more about this man than you cared to know. He snatched his phone so fast, before it even got to the ‘hunka hunka’. Another thing he was clearly embarrassed about.

“What’s up?” While he spoke into the phone you found yourself distracted by the muscular lines of his bare back, just then noticing he was shirtless. His skin was golden and was toned like a swimmer. You followed the curvatures of his body down to were they met small dimples in his lower back then disappeared into blue stripped pajama pants.

His evidently aggravated groan snapped you out of your expedition down his body.

“Fucking great.” Bringing his hand to both temples. “We’re still fucking snowed in. We’re stuck here until tomorrow at least.”

Fuck

“I take it there are no other rooms available?”

“No Intern, obviously not, the roads are closed. Nobody can fucking leave.”

You both went your separate ways and you couldn’t have been happier, finally getting a moment to breathe and relax. There was a tiny café within the resort that you hid in most of the day taking time to catch up on the book you had been neglecting. The snow outside continued to pile up with no end in sight. Your odds of escaping Austin weren’t looking very promising. While it was what you wanted, there was a part of you – the machoistic part of you – that didn’t want it to end, just yet.

Before you knew it, it was evening and you were trying to avoid the hotel room at all costs, not wanting to risk running into Austin. So, you found yourself at the same bar from the Landon incident yesterday. You pressed your palms against the bar ledge that was littered with your coworkers, including Landon out of the corner of your eye. He sent a chill up your spine, but he seemed distracted by some giggly extra.

“Vodka soda please.” You ordered from the rather attractive bar tender. Maybe you could end up in someone else’s bed that night, maybe it would stave off the remnants Austin’s touch left on you. Regardless you had a mission - getting fucking wasted. How else were you supposed to deal with the confusion clouding in your head?

About 2 vodka sodas in, an aggravated sigh came from your left, “You would be here.” Said the exact voice you were trying to elude.

“What the fuck does that mean?” You rolled your eyes turning to him. He wore a plain black shirt that hugged his toned arms, tight dark denim jeans and leather boots.

He shrugged, “You just would.” Evading the question. “I guess I don’t blame you, there’s nothing else open in here at night.”

“Exactly.” You agreed taking a sip of your third drink, sending a warmth through your veins, then down to your core at the sight of his skilled fingers wrapped around a half-drank bourbon on the rocks.

“Last call!” Boomed from the tattooed bar tender.

“What?” You questioned, surprised. You tapped your phone screen to wake the time, “What, it’s only 12?”

“Bar closes at 12 on Sundays.” The worker informed, beginning his closing duties by wiping down the counter.

“Augh.” Austin groaned easily downing the remainder of his drink and harshly landed it on the bar. Without another word he was already out the door, likely at one of the cast’s room parties that had been going on.

You were in no rush to be alone in a hotel room but after a stroll through an uneventful empty lobby you decided to call it a night.

Opening the door to your room you noticed something that had been hiding behind a curtain, a wide open door. Being under the impression that the actor would be in some room party, you hesitantly tiptoed across the room. Your mind ping-ponged between the possibilities.

Maybe a resident had found the wrong room

Maybe you found the wrong room

Maybe the door hadn’t been locked and was swung open by the vicious snowy winds

Maybe it was a ghost

Finally at the door you peered through it from the edge to find… a hot tub? The jetted pool sat on a wooden platform covered by the room above’s balcony. And there sat the asshole right in the middle with another full drink in his grasp.

“Where have you been!” The blonde called out in a playful tune, the alcohol evidently taken over his body. “Did you know we have a hot tub?” His voice almost excited.

“Uh…” The entire scene threw you completely off, you’d never so much as seen this man smile and now, he was lightly playing in the water. “Am I hallucinating or are you actually having a good time?”

“C’mon get in here.” He gestured to join him hurriedly, ignoring your question.

“Austin it’s fucking freezing, you’re insane.” You thought he was even crazier when you realized that he was shirtless, because what else would you wear in a jacuzzi. “I’m not getting in there.” Shaking your head vehemently.

“It’s warm in here c’mon.” His gestures even more exaggerated through the steam that brewed above the water.

You shifted from one foot to another and chewed on your lip weighing your options. What else were you going to do? And who were you to turn down a hot tub?

“Augh fine.” You huffed, peeling your shirt over your head and unzipping then dropping your jeans. A blast of cold wind hit your bare body, covered only in a bra and panties. Your arms immediately wrapped around yourself shivering as you shuffled across the wood slats and up the short stairs.

You let out a relieved sigh once your shoulders were below the warm water across from him. “You’re fucking crazy.”

He gave you his signature eye roll, “Loosen up will ya? You’re always so stiff.”

You couldn’t help but let out loud scoff, “Me? Nah, that’s all you Actor.”

He let a chuckle as he lulled his head back, his arms resting on the edge of the tub. “Yeah, I guess I could stand to loosen up a little.”

“That’s a fucking understatement.” The edges of your lips tied into a smile.

“Hey,” He furrowed his thick brows at you, his face only illuminated by the blue tone of the pool. “That’s not very nice.” A light flick of water propelled at you from his fingertips.

“Hey!” You dodged the attack, “That wasn’t very nice.” Splashing warm water back at him.

“Oh, I don’t think you wanna play this game, Intern.” He brows propped up throwing another wave of water at you.

“Oh, I think I do Actor.” Swimming diagonal from him giving you a new angle to battle him with a rush of water.

He feigned surprise, “You’re goin’ down.” Mimicking your actions, getting you good that time, soaking you completely.

A giggle left your mouth as you attempted to swim in the opposite direction splashing him back once more. You heard another foreign laugh from him matching yours. “No, you’re goin’ down buddy.”

In some miscalculation you ended up near him and mid splashing war you felt familiar sizable hands take hold of your waist pulling you into his lap.

What kinda twilight zone were you in when this menace was play fighting and giggling with you?

After the initial stun of the move, you caught your breath your eyes meeting his. The ebbing waves from the tub reflected into his aqua eyes, the ripples of the water seemed to swim in them.

Silence fell between you both as the laughter had dissipated and the only communication was in your stare. You tried to place his thoughts by analyzing his eyes. At that point you had gotten fairly good at reading him though this sight was new, and you had no clue at what was behind it.

His eyes flickered between yours and your lips, the proximity of him now very apparent. The scent of bourbon laid thick on his breath. Your own air lodged in your throat as you took in the sight of him. Under the glow of the moon, he looked so soft, a lens you’d never seen him through before. He was so exquisite like that - flushed rosy cheeks, drunken glossy eyes and all.

Your entire body froze when his lips met yours, his arms wrapping around your torso. Whether it was the alcohol, the moon or your genuine desire, something let yourself melt into it fully. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you deepened the kiss. You expected him to escalate it with his tongue the way he did before, but he didn’t, his lips just took yours in completely.

You decided to take the plunge and slide your tongue against his bottom lip asking for entrance and he complied. His hands slid up your sides pulling you closer and your hands tangled into the little curls at the nape of his neck. The entire experience was different than any other time you’d hooked up with him, it mirrored his current demeanor – soft, gentle. He wasn’t groping and squeezing like he normally did, he just held you as your tongues danced together.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and found a not surprising prominent bulge beneath you. A groan rumbled in his chest when you pressed your panty-covered warmth against his boxer-covered erection.

As you grinded against him, the feeling of his tip nudging your bundle made you so desperate to relieve the rampant buzzing in your core. It was making you weak and was distracting you from the kiss. You reluctantly pulled from his soft lips and fell onto his shoulder letting out tiny whimpers as he rocked his hips against you.

He pressed full kisses in the curvature of your neck causing a churning in your tummy that wasn’t arousal, but something different. Something familiar but you couldn’t quite place. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He mumbled into your shoulder, his voice deep and dripping in liquor.

A short breathy whimper involuntarily escaped you, “You think so?” Your inner voice taking no time in reprimanding you for seeking validation from such a douchebag. His names for you weren’t normally so kind, nevertheless a compliment.

“Mhm,” He hummed against your shoulder, his hand tangling in your hair as he peppered kisses across your skin. “The prettiest.” He whispered below your ear, unleashing a kaleidoscope of butterflies throughout your chest, your ribcage locking them in. You knew it was the alcohol talking but you clung to every word.

You were so needy for him that only small moans left your mouth, “Please Austin, I need your cock.” You breathed out, your heart beating so hard you thought it might pop out. Your hips rutted against his length the wet material of your panties allowing your lips to part around his shaft, teasing him with your entrance. “Please?” Exaggerating your whine.

He groaned at your actions, fingers harshly digging into your thighs. “No.” He said simply, his touch now gliding up your thighs, “Let me take care of you.”

His response took you by surprise, “W-what?” You stuttered but didn’t pull from him. A hand drew up your inner thigh, scorching the skin it passed, then fingers up your panties.

“Let me take care of you baby.” He repeated, his fingertips easily pulling your panties to the side and rolled the pads of his fingers around your clit. A gasp left your lips at the sudden pleasure.

“Fuck.” You faintly muttered against his neck and leaned into his touch. “Please. I need you.” Your right hand tugging at his hair and the left curling into his shoulder.

“I wanna try something, do you trust me?” He asked, the question throwing you off, both at what he could possibly be thinking and whether you knew the answer. It occurred to you that it was the second time he’d asked you that impossible question, the first time in the saloon on set. You wondered on what planet he was living on where he had given you any reason to trust him. If anything, he should be the last person on earth to trust. And yet, you lied, “Hm- Yes.” Curious to find out his idea.

He purred against your shoulder and gently lifted your hips off of him then placed you across his lap. With one hand he slid your panties down your legs and draped it over the edge of the pool. You held onto him by an arm around his neck as his hand slid up your thighs again and spread them wide.

The pads of his fingers once again found your core, rounding your swollen nub then down dipping into your entrance. “Fuck.” You breathed out as his digits curled into your sweet spot. You let him float you to the edge of the tub, it was unclear to you why until you felt the strong stream of water from one of the jets. A sharp gasp fell from your lips at the immediate pressure.

“Oh my god,” Your chest was heaving, and your nails dug into his back. While the jet took care of your clit, his fingers were taking care of your core, fucking you in a way you never thought fingers could. It was rhythmic like a choreographed dance, every pump into your pussy landed in a curl into your g-spot and you never knew you could feel so much pleasure from so many areas at once. Your heart was thumping in your throat with a tight knot in your stomach threatening you to unravel already. “Oh my god Austin.”

“I know baby, I know.” He continued his plight on your neck, trailing passionate kisses all over it. “Feels good doesn’t it?” He asked.

“Y-Yeah- Fuck.” You could barely hear him over the pounding in your ears. His little experiment with you was overriding every nerve, waves of tingling pleasure washing through you, even causing your toes to curl. “Fuck Aus, I’m close I’m so fucking close.” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut barely holding on to your sanity. The bliss was practically numbing your brain, every thought was him, only him. His eyes that could make you wet with just one look, his plump lips that stamped kisses all over you, his skilled tongue against your own and even better on your clit, the curve of his neck and collar bone where you’d place your own kisses, his agile hips that allowed him to drill his perfect fucking cock into you. Right then you could’ve sworn he was some Greek god from the insurmountable euphoria that possessed your body.

His mouth pulled your skin into a suck while his tongue swirled over the darkening spot. “Let it out baby c’mon, cum for me.” His deep voice rumbled against your neck. That and a perfectly synchronized hit of the jet stream on your throbbing bundle and his fingers curved into you, set off your climax. The height of your orgasm ripped through you so violently that your moans were completely silent – which you we’re grateful for because you knew your coworkers were just above you. Your nails dug into his shoulder and your thighs clamped around his hand and you heard him let out a sort of entertained chuckle. If you weren’t underwater your juices most definitely would’ve soaked his thigh completely.

Once fully spent, you fell limp on his chest, heavy breaths flowing into his neck, “Fuck.” You murmured. His arm curled around your waist, pulling you closer against him. The act was so intimate compared to… well any other interaction you’d had with him. He was always so cold and rigid, now he was tender and warm. You blinked up at him, his focus on the stars above you. Even his moonlit features were soft compared to his normal sharp edges. “You sure like to use water fixtures as sex toys huh.” You tugged a lip between your teeth hoping the joke would land.

He took a moment to respond, his brows scrunching together before looking down at you, “Huh?”

You let out a tiny giggle, “Because the faucet on set-“

“Oh oh, yeah!” He boomed a drunken laugh straight from deep in his chest, “Yeah, I guess I do.” Looking down at you, for a moment you couldn’t tell the difference between the stary midnight sky behind him and the twinkling navy in his eyes. “Did you not like it? Because it seemed like you did-“ His voice sounded almost insecure, as if he was worried about disappointing you. The hint of insecurity echoed the one from earlier in the hotel room, about his glasses.

“No, no I definitely do.” You laughed, pulling yourself up to wrap both arms around his neck, straddling him once again. “I’ve just never been with someone so… innovative.” Your lips pressed together to stifle a chuckle.

The joke earned you another hearty laugh from the glowing blonde, which made you realize you’d barely heard him laugh before, nonetheless smile. And right now, he was a grinning mess, and he hadn’t even cum. From the lack of stiffness beneath you it seemed that the alcohol had taken its toll. Under any other circumstances, if there was a more competitive game at play, you would’ve tried your hardest to return the favor. But he was giggly and touchy and the nicest you’d ever seen him, you didn’t want to cut it short, so you laid against his shoulder again just taking in his breathing.

“You’re pretty funny.” He said once he caught his breath from laughing.

“Yeah?” You blushed and a giant grin pulled at your lip’s edges, for some reason you felt embarrassed and hid further into his neck. “I’m glad you think so.” You whispered beneath his ear and molded your body further around his, taking advantage of his warmth. He reciprocated, wrapping you up in his arms.

Silence fell for what felt like an eternity and you thought for sure the moment was about to end, and this unicorn version of asshole actor would disappear. But he surprised you yet again.

“I’m hungry.” He stated simply, “I want fries.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “What?”

“I want fries!” He repeated, matter-of-factly. “We should go get fries.”

“Austin, where the fuck are we gonna get fries? The kitchens are closed and it’s not like we can DoorDash in a snowstorm.” You stated the obvious, sitting up in his lap.

You watched the gears churning in his head as if it was a difficult equation before the most mischievous playful smirk spread across his face. Immediately you knew it couldn’t mean anything good. “Austin,” You warned, propping up a cautious eyebrow, “What are you thinking.”

He practically threw you off of him, landing you to be floating alone in what now seemed like a giant empty ocean without him in it. He scrambled quickly into the hotel room, dripping water across the carpet, only in some plaid boxers. Once the blur of the action caught up to you, you followed suit, nearly flying out of the tub into the freezing cold air. “What are you doing!” You called after him as he hastily dried off with a towel and changed into sweats and a hoodie faster than you’d ever seen anyone move.

The mischievous smile never left his face in his hurried actions and stayed focused on his mission. In that moment you realized you were now babysitting a drunken toddler. Like any good caretaker, you matched his speed but soon remembered your limited wardrobe choices. He was already halfway out the door and the only reasonably warm and accessible choices were another hoodie and pair of sweats from his duffle.

“Austin!” You first shouted loudly after him, stumbling out the door trying to slide fully into your sneakers. Then in a more hushed yell, not wanting to wake the entire lodge at 2 am. “Where are you going!”

“Fries!” He threw over his shoulder as he booked it down the stairs.

“Hey! Slow down!” Taking a moment to catch your breath before following him down the two flights of mahogany stairs. “You couldn’t have taken the elevator at least?”

Finally, you caught up to him, standing in front of the restaurant that hosted the rotating buffet during the day. You leaned over attempting to catch your breath gripping your chest, reminding you that maybe a weekly gym day wouldn’t hurt. “They’re clearly closed Aus.” You huffed out, gesturing your arm at the darkened restaurant. The way it was laid out was that the floor was open so the buffet serving areas and seating were open, but the kitchen was locked. He was bent over eyeing the lock. “You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?”

“Hmmm.” He hummed and stood up to face you, he held his tongue between his lips as he seemed to analyze you, then reached into your damp hair and plucked out a bobby pin you had forgotten was in there. He went back to his crouched position, unfolding the metal accessory in his sizable hands.

“No no no.” You whispered, “Austin you’re gonna get us in trouble what are you doing!”

“I’m opening a door that we found, already open y/n, obviously.” He slid the pin into the keyhole and wiggled it around.

“Oh god you’re really doing this aren’t you.” You brought a hand to your temple.

It didn’t take long for the doorknob to click open, probably because the hotel didn’t think patrons would be breaking in. “Aha!” He proclaimed, flinging the door open and turning on the blinding overhead lights. Relief washed over you when you didn’t hear immediate alarms blaring.

“I fucking can’t believe you’re doing this.” You exasperated, dropping your arms at your sides, “You know there aren’t going to be just magically fresh fries right?”

“Relax Intern,” His mission stayed focused on pillaging the stainless-steel industrial kitchen for his desired snack. “I know what I’m doing.” Waving you off.

“Oh,” You placed both hands on your hips, “You break into kitchens often?”

He shot you an unimpressed look, “No, if you must know,” He somehow miraculously found the frozen fries. “I used to work in a kitchen, I know how to make some pretty fuckin’ dope fries.” He inspected the knobs of the deep fryer and clicked it to a high setting.

“Oh, you mean before you were just an actor?” You sassed, crossing your arms across your chest and popping out a hip.

He rolled his eyes at you, “Believe it or not I was once a struggling actor.” The fries sizzled in the oil when he dunked an obscene amount of into the appliance.

“Ah, I see the humbleness didn’t stick around.” You teased back, walking over to the wall and flipped off 3/4ths of the blinding fluorescent lights, leaving only the one’s above the counters.

He shot you another glare, “Keep talkin’ like that and ya aren’t gonna get any fries.”

You contemplated continuing your defiance but ultimately decided the midnight snack was more important. They were already in the fryer after all, might as well follow through.

He drew the fries from the oil, threw them into a giant silver bowl, and salted them like a pro, tossing them in the air and everything.

You ended up on the floor of the dark kitchen, sat across from him binging on the perfectly golden fries and a random wine bottle you’d found. For someone who was evidently wasted, they were beyond impressive. “Damn, you weren’t lying, these are so fucking good.” You complimented then shoved a handful of salty fries into your mouth. On a first date, you’d never eat like that in front of anyone, but this wasn’t a first date, this was a drunken adventure with an asshole.

“I told you.” He went for another fistful of salted potatoes. “I was the best damn line cook that surf and turf place had ever seen.” He sassed, waving a fry for extra attitude.

Your eyes rolled involuntarily, “You so would work at a surf and turf restaurant.”

He feigned insult with a dropped jaw, “What is that supposed to mean!”

You giggled and shrugged, taking a sip from the wine bottle. “You just give that typa vibe.” You teased, covering your mouth to hide the chuckle that threatened to erupt.

“Well, that’s not very nice.” He picked up a fry and tossing it at you. He shot a smirk at you then stole the wine bottle, taking a long swig. His plump lips molded around the bottle opening, his adam’s apple bobbed with his swallow.

You gasped, “You’re not very nice.” You plucked a fry from the heap and hurled it back at him. His gaze turned to a playful one, moving slowly to the bowl scooping a bundle of fries and heaving them at you.

“You’re a fucking child you know that?” Your tone serious but gasping an equal bit of fries while he was focused on your expression, throwing it right back at him. First the water fight and now this? Who the fuck abducted Actor and who was sitting across from you?

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.” He sat up on his knees, taking a fistful of your improvised dinner and aimed a bit too close to your face. Your hands immediately covered your eyes, “Ow!” You whined, sitting back on your legs, “You hit my eye!”

Instantly you heard him move the bowl and wine out of the way to cross the gap between you. “Oh my god I’m so sorry.” The hands that normally had been so rough on you, now delicately holding onto your wrists.

“It really hurts.” You whimpered, not moving your hands from your face.

“I didn’t mean to y/n, I swear.” He said softly then gently tugging at your hands. “C’mon let me see, we can wash out your eyes or something.”

A mischievous smirk spread across your lips beneath your hands, taking the fries that landed on you and smushing them into his chest. “Ha! I gotcha!”

Utter shock softened his face once he realized he’d been played. “That’s not fucking funny, I thought I- that I had-“ He struggled to find his words amidst the swirl of competitiveness and deception. It seemed as though his thoughts had halted as he watched your expression. The silence bounding around the industrial kitchen was haunting, unsure as to whether he was actually upset or if he would counter your move.

While you were attempting to decipher his motives, he abruptly took your cheeks into his large hands and pulled you into a kiss. The way his lips felt pressed against yours sent flutters down into your tummy, but they were different than the usual flurries of desire he gave you, these almost made you sick.

It took no time for your own hands to find a home tangled his hair. He inched forward indicating that he wanted you to lay back and you obeyed the silent request, slowly leaning back to land flat against the thankfully freshly mopped floor.

The kiss was tender, not hungry or ravenous, not even pushing to enter your mouth. In that moment, he wasn’t looking for anything more than that.

Your lips stayed locked for what seemed like a lifetime. A part of you almost grew uncomfortable at the intimacy, reflexively wanting to deepen the kiss. That’s all he’d ever wanted before after all, wasn’t it? You’d never had just a kiss before, with no ulterior motives. Why would he?

So, you wanted to fast forward to the part you knew was coming, not wanting to linger in a meaningless moment longer than necessary. You couldn’t afford to hold onto a fantasy, nor did you want to. But every muscle in your body ceased to function. His hands held your face and drew the pads of his thumbs across your cheekbones gently while your fingers traveled through his hair like a maze.

He was the exactly that - a maze, a human embodiment of one. You followed each path of his thinking you figured the way out, only to find you had no idea what you were doing or where you were going. You were trapped within an impossible labyrinth you never meant to enter.

His lips struggled to demagnetize from yours and hovered above your face. His navy eyes swirled reluctance, seemingly lost in some maze of his own. “I uh-“ He sat back on his legs, scratching the back of his head and eyes diverting from you. “We should probably head back to the room.”

And just like that, you reached another dead end in his labyrinth.

When you woke the next morning, the bed was empty. At first it took you by surprise, then a pit formed in your stomach. It was naïve of you to think that your drunken adventures with a rare Austin would change anything, foolish to think that version of him would stick around in the sober daylight. You wanted so badly to believe that wasn’t the truth, but you knew it was.

It dawned on you, why did that pit even form? This was the shithead that tormented you at work, treated you like shit and called you insufferable. In what twisted reality should you be sad that the illusion of a decent human fueled by alcohol didn’t stay for breakfast. At what point did you decide you wanted that version of him to stay? That’s not really what you want, was it? Of course not.

You brought your palms and pressed them into your eyes in a feeble attempt to clear out the thoughts swirling in your head. In a swift fling of the thick bedding, you unglued yourself from the bed, shuffling over to the window to check on the snow status. Thick snow still coated every surface, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as before, which meant that you’d probably be freed from this prison in the next day or two.

“Thank fucking god.” You mumbled to yourself, instinctively tucking your arms into your sides when you felt a chill. It was only then that you realized that you were still wearing his clothes. For whatever reason, you did a quick scan of the room as if someone would see you pulling up the collar of the hoodie taking an inhale. It smelled like him mingled with his cologne, a woodsy musk. You mentally scolded yourself when the tinge of longing filled your chest. Why the fuck would you miss him?

Then the memory of you sitting with him on the kitchen floor flashed across your mind pulling a giddy grin across your lips. “Fucking stop it.” Smacking your palm into your forehead. You shook your head trying to shake out whatever fucked up disease had taken over your mind, that was the only explanation for what you were feeling. The best way you could think of trying to remedy this ailment of yours was to take a long, hot shower. Maybe it’d wash it all away.

Once in the bathroom you let out a groan when you noticed all the towels were used and thrown about. “Fucking men.”

You headed down to the lobby and got the attention of a clerk. “Hi sorry to bother you but could I possibly get some more towels?”

“Sure of course! It’s no bother sweetie.” The middle-aged attendant sweetly smiled before heading into the back office.

She returned with a tower of fresh white towels. “There you go hon.” Placing them on the granite counter in front of you, “Your boyfriend use ‘em all?” She questioned in a joking tone.

You reflexively scoffed, “He’s definitely not my boyfriend.”

“Hm.” She pressed her lips together as if she had more to say but didn’t want to divulge.

“What?” You asked curiously, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Well it’s just- well I remembered you both from the night the snowstorm first hit so-“ She seemed to be trying to piece together some pieces of a puzzle in her head.

“…Mhm?” You urged on curious as to where this could possibly be going.

“So, when we had a vacancy open up yesterday, we called and asked him if he wanted to take it.” You knitted your brows together as you now tried to piece together the puzzle. “And well… he declined. So, I just assumed…”

“He turned down a room to himself?” You repeated for clarification, which was met with a timid nod, obviously feeling guilty for sharing personal information. “I uh, I have to go.” You stated shortly, snatching the tower of towels, “Thank you so much!” You thanked while you quickly made it back to the room.

After your much needed long, hot shower you decided to roam the all-inclusive resort. The only perk of being there was that there was decent amount of things to do during the day. From bars to in house casinos, arcades, spas, even a bowling alley. While you told yourself it was because you were bored, in the pit of your tummy there was a part of you that hoped you’d bump into your…enemy?

You wandered around the wooden halls of the resort with a pamphlet of all your options. Each corridor, room and lobby were decorated in typical lodge décor, animal heads on the wall, buffalo print everything, luxurious fireplaces. Everything except the deer heads was stunning, if you visited under different circumstances the mini vacation would’ve been a tranquil little getaway.

Since Austin supposedly hated you, Landon was a creep and Tom had his own friend group, you were alone. There was a door at the very end of the hallway that intrigued you. Once you peered in you saw a much cozier den-style bar, a huge square sectional couch facing a stone fireplace. On the opposite a very quaint bar. As you scanned the room for possible acquaintances you landed on a group of familiar faces.

“Y/N!” Called Tom, “You’re just in time. We’re just about to play truth or dare!”

What we were in 6th grade?

You locked eyes with your resident tormentor, because of course he’d be there. There was a split second where you thought things would be different after last night but when he gave you a warning look to decline the game offer, you knew it was a pipe dream. That gentle, playful man from the hot tub and the kitchen was gone, just like that. Then, the hatred you’d always felt before piped back into you, like a coffee pot filling with molten hot caffeine. Keeping eye contact with him the edges of your lips curled into a cocky smile, “Sounds great.” You sauntered over to the place next to Tom that faced opposite of Austin.

A few rounds of the game ensued, nothing too juicy at first but the game soon heated up when the group had downed a fair number of drinks. It was a stagehand’s turn to dare Austin. The brunette male, who had been working near many of your interactions together, gave him a playful smirk, “I dare you…” His eyes landed on you, “To make out with y/n.”

How fucking juvenile

You weren’t sure why the absolute jarring panic settled into your stomach, but Austin’s expression of immediate disgust didn’t help.

“I’m not doing that.” He said sternly, his tone oddly irritated.

“Oh, c’mon dude, it’s just a kiss.” The stagehand, Ryan, prodded jokingly.

“No. I’m not fucking doing it, give me a truth.” His brows low and knitted, eyes dark and mean.

“Fine.” Ryan, clearly annoyed and drunk, matched his unnecessarily angry tone, “Have you fucked the intern?” The question hushed every person around the fireplace, an uneasy tension filled in the air.

Blood rushed to Austin’s face and a vein pulsed in his forehead. He was trying to restrain his anger, squeezing his fists to stave it off. Your own steaming coffee pot was on the verge of overflowing.

Whether it was the tequila or something else that fueled you was unclear but you balled up your own fists, and before you could stop yourself, the words flew out, “I’m not a fucking intern!” You boomed out louder than intended and shooting you straight up on your feet.

Austin rolled his eyes, sharply pushing off from the couch, “I’m fuckin’ outta here.” He scoffed, headed for the doorway.

“Answer the question you fuckin’ pussy!” Called a way too far gone Ryan. “We already know the answer.” He added in a cocky snide.

Any sinister look you’d ever seen on Austin didn’t compare to the one that bore into Ryan. You were surprised his fist wasn’t bashed into his face already, if there weren’t so many witnesses he probably would’ve been pummeled to a mush.

“Let’s get this fucking straight.” He hissed, his eyes locked on Ryan, never once glancing at you, like you weren’t even in the room. “I have never and will never put my hands on such a low budget, low level, filthy whore nobody of an Intern.”

Your jaw nearly hit the floor at his words, a consequential dagger speared right through your intestines. You knew he hated you, he called you insufferable. You knew he hated you, you knew it even after last night, but you never expected him to say such vile words about you. A lump formed in your throat and tears welled in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry there – not in front of all your coworkers, not after being completely and utterly humiliated. Every ounce of alcohol in your bloodstream fueled your stomp over to him and didn’t even realize what you had done until you felt your palm stinging like a bitch from landing on his face. His hand instantly reaching to cover his newly red cheek from your slap, his eyes wide in disbelief, then narrowed with furious realization.

“Fuck you,” You attempted to hide the quiver in your voice, “You fucking rotten, disgusting, repulsive human being.” Your teeth clenched, you knew your little outburst could very well get you fired but there was too much rage and liquor in your body to care.

He did nothing, not a brow raise, not a twist in his face, nothing. Perhaps he’d never had someone talk back to him like that. Without further explanation he just pushed past you, knocking your shoulder back with his weight. The gravity of what just happened settled into your chest, having such a cruel intimate moment in front of all your colleagues was probably the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you. Something you’d never be able to forget, something you could never forgive. Blood rushed to your cheeks as you felt all eyes on you and your heart began to race feeling the purest form of ‘flight’ mode you’d ever had in your life.

When you escaped there was no sign of Austin in sight. You knew he had to have gone back to the room, hopefully to pack his shit and leave. And if he wasn’t then you would, even if you had to beg to stay in someone’s room. All the way up the elevator your heart thumped against your rib cage, shaking out your hands and taking deep breaths mentally preparing yourself for confrontation.

You unlocked the door and found him standing there, looking like he got there just before you did. The anxiety of the confrontation dissipated the moment you laid eyes on his hardened face. “Get out.” You stated harshly, brushing past him yourself mimicking his actions from before.

“Intern there’s nowhere for me to fucking go.” His voice already raised and ready for battle, “I’m not fucking happy about it either but-“

Your brows scrunched together downwards, steam practically pouring from your ears. “You’re a liar! A filthy fucking liar! Get. Out.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not lying-“ He began but his incessant voice was driving you more livid by the minute.

“I know about the fucking vacant room Austin.” You growled, using his name and not Actor to let him know how serious you were. Just from how he opened his mouth to speak you could tell he was about to lie again so you beat him to it. “The front desk lady told me. Tell me Austin, if you hate me so goddamn much then why didn’t you just take the room? To fuck with me? To take me on some stupid drunken adventure to trick me into thinking you actually have a heart?”

He stayed silent, which only made you angrier. You just called him out on his bullshit, and he couldn’t even react. “Actually no, you know what? I’m the fucking liar. Because out there I called you a human being, but you’re too fucked up to be a human, you’re a fucking cockroach – I try to stomp you out but you keep fucking coming back.” When the words left there was an immediate sense of release, everything that had built up in your system spilled out.

“Oh, I’m a cockroach? If I’m such a cockroach, then why do you keep coming back for more huh?” He hissed, his arrogant scrunched face pissed you off even more. He had no right to talk to you like that after what he did. “I didn’t hear you complaining when I was making you cum.” Purposely using jarring sexual defenses to hurt you.

You thought lava was about to start seeping through your skin, what made it worse was that you didn’t have an answer. “Augh!” You grunted, pacing in a short lap, your fingers curling around air. “You are so fucking infuriatingly heartless it’s nauseating!”

He scoffed, “Well, I may be heartless, but you’re fucking naïve.” He snarled. “Naïve to think I would ever actually enjoy your company outside of your body.”

Your jaw dropped, tears pricked your eyes again realizing how senseless you were to have thought he was anything else but the arrogant, cruel man you met that first day on set. The building rage turned your tears into a terrifying laugh, “Oh, my body huh? That’s funny because out there you said you’d never touch me, when in there” Pointing to the back door leading to the hot tub, “You touched me with nothing in return for you. You were the one who wanted to ‘take care of me’, you held me, you called me pretty!” The ending sounding so pathetic, instantly regretting the vulnerability knowing it would be used as ammo.

He cackled, “Oh c’mon Intern you can’t be serious, nobody ever taught you not to believe the things men say when they’re drunk? It didn’t mean anything, I was drunk, I lied.”

The words sliced like blades and every ounce of restraint drained from your body. “You are by far the worst person I’ve ever had the disgrace of knowing. I wish I never fucking met you. If I could go back in time, I would turn down my apprenticeship. My apprenticeship, because I’m not and have never been a fucking intern!” Your voice raised into a yell, “I would throw away my entire career if it meant I could avoid ever crossing paths with you.”

A few moments passed and he was still there, silent and blank. You couldn’t read him at all, if he was angry or sad or insulted. He could’ve easily turned it on you, but he didn’t. He just stared at you.

Everything from the first day on set to the day of the snowstorm, yesterday and everything in between, compounded in your mind. Every insult, every backhanded comment, every accusation replayed in your head. No one had ever made you feel as low and as shitty as he did. The lump from before reclaimed its place in your throat and tears began to pool in your eyes, finally needing real answers. “Why do you treat me like this huh? Why do you say the horrible things you say to me? Call me all the vile names you do? What did I ever fucking do to you?” While you were holding back tears your voice remained furious and combative. “Why do you fucking hate me!”

His brows furrowed and his sharp jaw noticeably clenched, “You’re just fucking infuriating and annoying and it- it just drives me fucking insane!”

“What does! What the fuck do I do that bothers you so fucking much!” You nearly screamed out.

“You- just-“ He was grasping at straws, “No matter how much I try to hate you I fucking can’t!” His words darted from his tongue faster than he had time to process. His widened eyes gave away how much he regretted his slip up.

“W-What?” You stuttered out confused, that being the last thing you expected him to say. The rapid thumping of your heart accelerated, allowing only short breaths and you even felt a little lightheaded. You were overloaded, angry, confused, hurt, heartbroken, embarrassed. The small bit of control you had left was gone and the tears made their full appearance.

The minute he noticed the tears streaming down your face, Austin’s twisted face softened right before your eyes, even softer than the night before. “I-“ He stepped towards you but you immediately winced and recoiled from him.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You cried out wiping the tears from your face in an attempt to halt them.

In true Austin fashion, he didn’t listen, and his hands found your own on your cheeks. In an even stranger turn of events, he leaned down and placed a long kiss on your lips. Then he gently pulled your hands from your face, you looked up at him with watery puzzled eyes. You instinctively smacked his arm to push him away, but his strong arm didn’t budge.

He cupped your cheeks in his hands and placed a tender kiss under each stream of tears. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly after each kiss. Every single action he did was like a twisted turn on rickety rollercoaster ride. He returned to your lips, pressed another kiss followed with, “I’m sorry.” He whispered, an extra pillowy light kiss, “I’m sorry.” He repeated, another kiss, another apology. He trailed his lips down to just below your ear, stamping additional kiss there, “I’m sorry.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he pressed another sloppy kiss below your ear, “I’m sorry.” No matter how furious you were didn’t stop the butterflies in your tummy. A longer, sloppier kiss further down your neck with a raspy, “I’m sorry.” Sent a buzzing through your chest and directly to your hips.

Maybe it was the same for you, no matter what horrible things he did or said to you, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself you hated him, you couldn’t. Maybe you were just as fucked up as he was.

“I’m sorry, let me show you how much.” He muttered against your skin, his fingers delicately smoothing down your sides like he was plucking a harp.

The shift from abhorrent to sweet gave you whiplash, not knowing which one was genuine. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing any tears out, the salty liquid dripping off your chin. “Austin, I can’t.” You breathed out, the panic attack-like heaving never left. “Austin, you literally just humiliated me in front of everyone. You called me a filthy whore nobody, in front of everyone.” Reluctantly pulling from his grasp. His once venomous eyes now soft and apologetic, but that’s exactly what he did wasn’t it? He’d wrap you back in his hold like prey, constrict you until you were blue in the face, still hypnotizing you with snake eyes. You were a rat and he a cobra trapped in a 10 gallon tank, and he was still convincing you that he wasn’t trying to consume you whole. “I just can’t. I just- I respect myself too much. And I need you to go. I need to be alone.”

He stepped towards you once more, his fingertips ran down the back of your arms reaching your hands, taking them tenderly into his. “I’m so sorry y/n. I won’t do it again. I promise.” He bargained in a tone so quiet you’d think he was paranoid of people hearing him from behind the walls. “I’ll never talk like that ever, ever again.”

“Austin, I don’t know what you want from me.” You slipped from his hands, “But there won’t be another ‘again’. You were right the other day on set, this shouldn’t have happened.” Your voice cracked, “I need you to leave. Now.”

His look faltered, a look you’d only ever seen on the faces of defeated Olympians. “Okay.” He said lowly, stepping forward and cupping your face then pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His misty blue eyes looked down at you, “If you ever wanna cash in that apology, you know where to find me.”

Without another word he gathered his things and left to find the other room. The minute he was out the door, every emotion you had suppressed from the event took over. You doubled over gripping onto your stomach as you heaved, rivers of tears pouring from your eyes. Tight twists and knots wrapped around your abdomen, constricting you like the snake he was.

You stumbled to the bed and fell in it, wrapping the sheets around you and like a 15-year-old with their first heartbreak, you wailed into the pillow. You never felt so worthless, so pathetic, so stupid. You were so fucking stupid for letting him slither his way into you the way he did. How could anyone talk about someone like that? Someone who just last night was so sweet and gentle with you. Someone who said they didn’t mean any of it but then wanted to apologize so tenderly?

It made you sick to think how you let such evil into your body. You weren’t even able to say that you missed the red flags, you didn’t, you saw them clearly and raced past them. He showed you exactly who he was, and still let yourself believe he was something he wasn’t.

Yeah, your house was now haunted, but you were the one who invited the demon in.

taglist: @lindszeppelin @steph-speaks @sagesolsticewrites @presleysdarling @purejasmine @slowsweetlove @powerofelvis @pennyroyalcreep @navsblog @eliseinmemphis @cryingabtab @ab4eva @samfangirls @julie181 @ccab @denised916 @katelswan @amaliking @michellelv @butlersluvbot @coloradohighs @rairaielv @centaine @babyminghao @h3ll0k1tt9 @tchalametishot @austinbutlerinleather @softsatnin @lillypink @babyhoneypresley @richardslady121 @emmymaehereeeeee @18lkpeters @rairaielv

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If you'd like to be tagged in a potential Part 4 please comment 💗

author notes:

thank you all SO much for all the love and support on this story, it has truly been overwhelming. i know my numbers aren't as big as others but they're big to me - appreciate EVERY comment, message, ask, etc. i love you guys so much - i never expected this fic to get that much attention so again, thank you xx

if you enjoyed this story/my writing pls consider giving my main fic, Forever Winter, a read - if you like angsty sad smutty you’ll probably like it lol

also pls consider giving this a like, comment or reblog ♡

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saturnville · 3 months

Text

sweet goodbyes, major john egan

pairing: major john “bucky” egan (masters of the air) black fem oc (amelia egan)

content: john is being shipped to England to serve in the war; his departure comes with sweet goodbyes

an: callum turner is my new white boy of the month, yay!

“Close your eyes, darlin’. You can’t keep trying to fight sleep.” His voice warmed the deepest parts of her insides. Her stomach fluttered and she couldn’t fight to dopey smile that crept along her lips. She whined in objection, ignoring how her eyelids fluttered.

“I don’t want to sleep,” she murmured, words slurred and almost incoherent. Her hand ran down the lace neckline of her white nightgown; a gift from her mother-in-law from her wedding night. Her hand then traveled over to his dark hair, massaging his curls. “Want to stare at you alllll night.”

His soft chuckle forced her eyes open. He caressed her warm cheek “That’s nice, doll, but you should get your rest. I gotta be out early in the morning. Gotta have coffee together.” It was a ritual. Every morning, he’d wake her up at the break of dawn with a steaming cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal. It was a simple gesture, but it was what she grew to love. Cuddled in the sheets, sipping from their mugs and feeding each other spoonfuls of hot oats. She’d have to get used to eating by herself.

She huffed in disdain. John chuckled and wrapped his strong arms around her body. He pressed a firm kiss against her cheek, then her nose, then her lips. She returned his advances immediately. Her hand gripped his neck as she pulled him closer. “Amelia…”

Amelia’s leg crept along his waist and she silently urged him to take the hint. He whispered a gentle, are you sure, against her lips, which she replied with her hips pressed against his.

John gripped the plushness of her thigh and pushed it back, slotting his body between her legs. Her breaths were heavy and quivered with desire. His large hands clenched the fabric of her nightgown, pushed it up her body, and tossed it across the room. “I love you, you know that?”

“Mhm.” Her mind couldn’t create a coherent sentence with him touching her so delicately. “I love you, too.”

The moon shone through the curtains. Amelia felt the weight of sleep finally pulling her down. Her husbands presence comforted her as his whispered declarations of love lingered in the air. Reluctantly, she stopped battling drowsiness and succumbed to its authority.

The warmth of his love wrapped around her like a blanket, and the anticipation of their morning ritual brought a bittersweet smile to her lips. She couldn’t help but savor the small moments she had left, knowing that tomorrow would be different.

Yet, within their tender embrace and exchange of affections, their love was a solidified anchor that promised a new daw filled with cups of coffee and the joy of each’ other’s company.

#saturnville #original writing #original content #black!reader #black reader #black fem oc #black woman writer #callum turner #masters of the air #callum turner x reader #callum turner x black reader #major john egan #bucky egan #bucky egan x reader #bucky egan x black reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler x black!reader

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youaintnothinbuta · 19 days

Note

if you don't mind do you think you can do some Elvis angst I really enjoy them but I haven't found any and they don't have to be about anything in specific just as long as it has some angst a little fluff and smut you don't have to if you don't want to but I'll appreciate it!!! 🙏 If you want something to base it off it can be about Elvis affairs or y/n affairs and they get into fights or something and then make up but not until one of them makes it clear that they will leave one another if they don't stop (sorry if it doesn't make sense or sounds stupid😭)

I hope this covers all bases!! <3

“Come home, baby, please.” — elvis presley x reader

Summary: You and elvis are fighting about him never being around because he’s ‘too busy’ but being seen with all these girls in the newspapers constantly, when you decide you’ve had it and leave for your parents house. After days and days go by and his guilt growing, he comes and gets you and you have make up sex in the car

Pairing: Elvis Presley or Austin!elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 1,800

Warnings: angsty, argument, yelling, SMUT, 18+, car sex, make up sex, unprotected sex, probably typos

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You’re never here, Elvis, never,” You yelled, throwing the newspapers at his feet, “and how is this supposed to make me feel any better?”

The headlines, yet again, in big, bold text, wrote about another woman spotted with him, mocking you with every word.

Elvis looked up, his expression a mix of surprise and irritation. “I am busy, Y/N, you know that, providing for you and every other god damn person I know. I have responsibilities.”

“Responsibilities? Is that what you’re calling it?” Your voice dripped with sarcasm. “Flirting with every girl who bats her eyelashes at you? Is that your responsibility too?”

He stood up abruptly, towering over you, “You know it ain’t like that, baby. Those girls mean nothing to me.”

“Then why do see these headlines every day, Elvis? Every. Damn. Day.” you retorted, your arms crossing over your chest in defiance. He leant down, picking up the newspapers you were standing on. He tore them to shreds, the sound of ripping paper filling the room.

“I don’t write these goddamn headlines, Y/N. What the hell do you want me to do about it?” His voice rose, surprising even himself with the aggression in his tone. “They ain’t mean nothin’ to me.”

“I want to believe you, Elvis, I really do,” you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and anger. “But I can’t keep living like this. I won’t be second best in your life.”

He reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away.

“I mean it, Elvis. If this doesn’t stop, we’re over. Call me when you’re ready to start acting like a man,” you declared, your voice firm with resolve. With that, you grabbed your car keys from the bench and stormed out.

“Don’t you dare spe—“ Elvis shouted, but the door slamming shut behind you interrupted him before he could finish.

Elvis stood there, watching you go, his chest tight with a mixture of anger and regret. Huffing in frustration, he stared down at the shredded remnants of the newspapers scattered across the floor, the headlines mocking him with their accusations.

He expected you to come back that night, like you always did after a fight, but as the hours passed, and you didn’t return, he began to worry. Days went by, each one dragging on in agonising slowness as he waited for you to walk back through the door. He missed the sound of your laughter, the warmth of your eyes, the way you always knew how to soothe his mind.

One night he went out, and as per usual, he was met with the eager attention of adoring fans and all the girls who would swarm him, but it felt different this time. While he always swore it meant nothing, and it did, this time he felt sick with guilt, so much so he was headed home by midnight.

He sat alone on his side of the bed, the weight of his actions finally hit him. He realised that he couldn’t live without you, that he needed you in his life more than anything. Hesitating, he finally picked up his telephone. Unsure of where exactly you were, his best guess was your parent’s house.

His heart pounded in his chest as he waited hoped for you to pick up. Thinking he wasn’t going to get an answer, he was momentarily stunned when he heard your voice say ‘hello?’

You asked again, ‘hello?’

“Come home, baby, please,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. There was silence as you replayed the sound of his voice in your mind.

“Alright, darlin’, you win,” he continued, “You’re my number one. It’s killing me going to bed without you,” he confessed.

“Come pick me up then,” you demanded, your voice softening slightly.

Without hesitation, Elvis agreed, relief flooding through him at the prospect of seeing you again. “I’m leaving right now,” he promised, the urgency in his voice evident. He really wasn’t kidding, you heard his keys jangling in his hands through the line.

You hung up, feeling a mix of emotions. You sat by the window in the living room, only a lamp on as your parents had gone to bed already, waiting for him to arrive. You didn’t know how to feel, only that you still loved him, despite everything.

It was a long drive to your parents, about 40 minutes, but he was there as soon as he could’ve been. Finally, he arrived, the headlights of his car casting long shadows across the familiar driveway. With a sigh of relief, he killed the engine and stepped out into the cool night air.

As he approached the front door, he hesitated for a moment, his hand poised to knock. But before he could make a sound and wake your family, the door swung open, and there you stood, bathed in the soft glow of the porch light. For a fleeting moment, Elvis was struck by the sight of you, how pretty you looked in the pale light.

You wanted to be angry with him, you wanted to give him the silent treatment and make him work for forgiveness but the second you saw his beautiful face, you couldn’t help but smile. Without a word, you stepped out onto the porch, closing the door softly behind you. Elvis met your gaze, his expression filled with remorse.

He opened your door for you, making his way around to the driver’s side once you were in. You looked over at him as he sat, his eyes already on you.

“I'm sorry, baby,” he says, his voice low and sincere, “don’t ever run away on me like that to me again.”

You turn to face him, your expression softening. “Don't ever make me feel like I have to,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I won't,” he promises, reaching out to take your hand, his lips grazing over your knuckles. “I swear.”

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and you can't help but believe him, even if it might be against your better judgment. You lean over and press your lips to his, feeling the tension between you start to dissipate. You glance down, noticing the way his muscles tense under his shirt. You missed him. You really did. You’d never tell him that, though.

Without a word, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him as you deepened the kiss. His sucks in a surprised breath at your unexpected movement. You can feel his erection grow as you kiss him, the size of him putting pressure on your clit. You waste no time in releasing his cock from his pants, a silent invitation that he eagerly accepted as he deftly maneuvered your panties aside, his fingers tracing patterns of anticipation along the delicate curve of your thigh. You push his hand out the way, gently lowering yourself down onto him, your jaw hung open at the feeling.

A guttural groan escaped his lips as you bottomed out, the raw intensity of the moment leaving you both reeling. You began to move, a steady rhythm building between you as the car filled with the heady scent of arousal, the windows fogging over with the heat of you both. Elvis' hands roam over your body, touching you wherever he could as he whispered apologies and words of love.

He attempted to guide you to move up and down instead of back and forth, you took the hint, earning a series of raspy grunts from him. You could feel the tension building between you, the pleasure mounting higher and higher. As you rode him, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Elvis sensed it too, because his fingers found your clit, rubbing quick circles that sent you spiraling over the edge.

You cried out as you came, your orgasm rippling through you like a shockwave. You wrapped your arms around his neck, needing something to hold onto as you lost control of your body. Your orgasm coated his cock with more wetness, “I’ve got you,” he murmured, still thrusting himself up into you. Elvis followed you over the edge, groaning as he filled you with his release.

As you come down from your high, Elvis chuckles, looking towards the window.

“Makeup sex right outside your parents' window, who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” He teased, lightly squeezing your ass.

You playfully punched him in the chest, shushing him as you tried to catch your breath. “Be quiet,” you whispered, blush colouring your cheeks.

Elvis grinned, pulling you close for a kiss. “I love you,” he says, his voice soft. He reaches his fingertip to the condensation on the window, drawing half a heart.

You smiled, reaching your hand over to finish the other half. “I love you too,” you say, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

You reluctantly pulled yourself off of Elvis' lap. He quickly adjusted his pants, tucking himself away before pulling off his jacket, wrapping it around you to keep you warm for the drive home.

“Let's get you home,” he said, his voice soft. He started the car, pulling away from the curb as you settled into the passenger seat. He rested his left hand on the steering wheel as he drove, his right arm wrapped around you holding you close to him. You leant into his body, feeling his warmth against you. You giggled, still feeling the aftershocks of earlier orgasm. He must’ve somehow known, because he leant down to press a kiss to your head.

“My girl,” he whispered. As you continued along the quiet road, the weight of the day and the events of the week began to catch up with you, exhaustion settling heavy upon your shoulders.

Elvis sensed your weariness, his arm tightening around you as he pulled you closer, cocooning you in the safety of his embrace. “You can sleep,” he whispered, “I’ve got you.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words spread through you. You let yourself drift off, feeling safe and loved in his arms.

When you finally arrived back at his house, Elvis woke you gently, his touch a gentle caress against your skin as he guided you inside, still wrapped in his jacket. With his help, you changed into one of your nighties.

You brushed your teeth together, your eyes meeting, making you laugh in the mirror as you both rinsed.

As you climbed into bed, Elvis pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. “I'm never letting you go again,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, snuggling closer to him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby as you drifted off to sleep, finally back in his.

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mamasturn · 6 months

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dirty dancing pt. 9

pairing austin!elvis x black!fem!oc (cynthia). warning: 18+ steam, suggestive themes. content: cynthia and elvis get married. tags: @neeville @dulcewrites @crash-and-cure @cvpidspearl @blackwriter48 @wonderprince @venus2eros @adoreyouusugar @sunshinetoday1 @cosmic-parker @kaitaesupremacy @librarydame @louderfortheback @thetaoofzoe

note: well…long time, no see

“Marry me, baby.”

Cynthia’s hands released the utensils they held. A loud clatter ricocheted off the decorated walls of the dining room. The curls upon her head curtained her eyes, but they were blown wide in shock. Slowly, she tuned to the left. Her eyes found his baby blues, which were filled with hope as he descended onto one knee.

In his hand was a black velvet box. He pulled the cap back to reveal the most piece of jewelry she’d ever seen. And, it was authentically her. She’d expressed to him that as she’d gotten older, she found an indescribable beauty in the color green. Cynthia was well-aware that he was attentive; she just never knew he was so attentive that he’d propose to her with an emerald ring.

It was beautiful, goodness, was it beautiful. The emerald diamond was at least three karats, and it was the star of the show. Its setting was gold with vines entagling the band. He pulled it out of the box and brought it closer to her.

“I don’t want to spend my life with anyone else but you, Cyn. You came in my life and changed my desires. I’d be a fool to let you slip through my fingertips. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine, as long as you’ll have me.”

A tearful laugh fell from Cythia’s lips. “Where will we go?” The four words held so much weight, and he knew why. No one in the south would approve of the union of a white man and a Black woman--it was unheard of. But, Elvis knew that already, and he was determined to get what he wanted. There was one state that would grant their wishes--California. California had legalized interracial marriage in 1948, and if she said yes, he already had the first flight there arranged. He just needed a yes.

He stood to his feet and placed the box on the table. Cynthia looked up at him, her brown eyes teary and filled with a million unreadable emotions. “California. They’ll accept us out there. They don’t believe in the silliness them people in the south believe. We can get married, baby. All you gotta do is say yes, and we’ll go. It’ll be me an’ you forever. Baby…”

Cynthia stared at the ring and it stared back at her. What would she tell her parents? They were already suspicious of her relationship with Elvis and feared for her safety daily. Their Black daughter was in a committed relationship with the most famous singer in the world. That was dangerous enough. How much further was she willing to go?

She wanted to be his wife, she truly did. But she was scared. What would happen when people found out? Would they try to hurt them? A part of her challenged her concerns because her relationship was nobody else’s concern, and who was society to tell them who to love? Yes, they were of different races, but it was no reason to repel a love that was so strong and profound. They weren’t hurting anyone.

Her lips twisted as she nodded. “Let’s get married.”

“You look beautiful, darlin’.” Cynthia’s eyes dropped toward her dress. It was a simple, white slip dress that’d been hiding in her closet. It was form fitting and stopped just below her knees. Accompanied by silver pointed heels, she was the most stunning bride. She rushed her makeup in the courtroom bathroom and took the rollers out of her hair, which produced the most voluminous curls. The new layered haircut fit her wonderfully.

“Thank you. You look handsome as always.” He wore a simple black suit, nothing too crazy. He was flamboyant any other day, but chose to have the more simplistically beautiful wedding of his dreams.

“We are gathered here today…”

Their eyes met and giddy smiles spread across their faces. A dream had become a reality. All the worries and fears were washed away when she heard, “you may now kiss the bride.” Cynthia welcomed the passionate kiss and scattered applause from the judge an the officiant. It wasn’t the most ideal wedding, but it was perfect for them, and that’s what mattered. “Mr. and Mrs. Presley, congratulations.”

“Mrs. Presley…I love the sound of that.” They’d found a hotel to stay in for the evening before flying back to Graceland the following morning. The hotel service was luxurious, as they wanted the best for Elvis Presley and his wife. They stayed in the presidential suite on the top floor, which was decked out to the nine.

Large windows that oversaw the city, flowers and plants that reminded her of Graceland, chandeliers above them, and a King sized bed with an angel-white comforter, which she laid on comfortably.

Cynthia turned her head to meet his eyes and smiled gently. She loved it too. Cynthia Irene Presley. Music to her ears. Elvis stood at the end of the bed admiring her beauty. She was freshly showered and dressed in her white nightgown with lace trimming. Her makeup had been removed and her hair was tied with a satin scarf. God, she looked so beautiful to him.

Her brown eyes were blown wide with love and adoration as they followed his movements toward her. She sat up on her elbows and spread her legs just slightly to make room for his body.

Elvis crawled over her, his breath fanning her lips gently. Cynthia shuddered. His pink lips captured hers and she welcomed the feeling.

She loved intimate moments with Elvis, and she could only imagine how much better their interactions would get since they were married. It would mean they’d finally go all the way.

Cynthia and Elvis had dabbled in other forms of sexual intimacy, but had never crossed the line of penetration, as Cynthia requested. She was grateful for her husband’s patience with her, and was more than ready to give herself to him fully.

“Elvis,” she moaned softly as his lips traveled down her body. What a sight to see, it was. Him working his way down her quivering body with darkening eyes and swollen lips. Her, jerking at every touch he gave her and calling him name so gently.

“Yeah, baby…” His large hands cupped her hips as his thumbs traced the waistband of her panties. Slowly, he slid them down her legs. Cynthia kicked them to the side.

“Come here.” She pulled him upwards and kissed him again. Her lips moved toward his ear, which she nibbled on softly. Elvis moaned softly. “Make love to me, Mr. Presley.”

He burned with desire. Elvis hummed softly and instructed her to lay back. His hand slid up her abdomen, leaving goosebumps in the wake. He reached behind her back, looking to unclip her bra. She lifted up to help remove the article of clothing.

Soft pants and breaths of anticipation passed through her lips as Elvis’ warm lips traveled down the valley or her chest, around her clothed hips, and between her thighs, where he teasingly and strategically kissed around the place she wanted him the most.

He lifted his eyes, finding Cynthia with closed eyes and a heaving chest. Her lip was caught between her teeth. She looked down at him when she felt him stop.

She tensed suddenly. Elvis rubbed her thighs gently as a way of reassurance. He wouldn’t push her, though. If she needed time to prepare, he’d give her all the time in the world.

“Relax, baby, relax…”

Cynthia nodded slowly. She didn’t want it to be weird, but she was indeed nervous. But, it was Elvis, she reminded herself. She had no reason to be. All of her worries went away when she felt his lips on her. A gasp fell from her lips, “Elvis…”

“You okay?”

Cynthia nodded tiredly against his chest. “I’m okay.” She’d fantasized what her first time would be like, and Elvis exceeded her expectations. She felt so loved, adored, and honored. He paid close attention to her body and made sure her pleasure was the priority, and for that, she couldn’t have been more thankful.

“Mrs. Presley…” Elvis said for what seemed to be the millionth time. It didn’t bother her, though; she enjoyed hearing it. “I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you more, Mr. Presley.”

#black authors #austin butler x reader #austin butler x black!reader #austin butler #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis x black!reader #just a little something #writers and authors #black!reader #austin butler inspired male oc x black fem oc #austin elvis imagine #elvis 2022 #elvis presley x black!reader #austin butler elvis #austin!elvis x oc #austin!elvis x black!oc #austin!elvis fanfiction

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incorectly · 2 years

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✨ ✨Appreciation Post ✨ ✨

Dear Blogs that write for Black Readers x Austin Butler or any of his characters he’s played (Or any Black Reader x Any Person), Please don't stop writing, all of y'all’s work is some of THE BEST to be written, EVER. (I’ve been apart of ALOT of fandoms and have read a ton of work) None can compare, you make black women feel seen by making stories that are relatable to US. (Even if it’s made up). So this is for you, I APPRECIATE all of you and all the time and dedication you put into your work, it does not go UNSEEN or OVERLOOKED, because if I come across your work I’m always liking and reblogging (I’m getting better at reblogging y’all’s work) because I’m always rooting for y'all even if your work isn’t getting the recognition it deserves. You are SEEN.

Sorry for Rambling it was just on my heart to share

(Tagging a couple people who I think are amazing writers) (If I didn't tag you drop a comment I would love to see your work I’m always up to read more stories)

@dulcewrites @mamasturn @infernalodie @that-one-anxious-mango @enchantinglyjade @chaeycunty @geminixevans-stan @mauvecherie-writes @syntheticavenger @afriendlyblackhottie @dramaqueeenamby @royallyprincesslilly @blackwomanwriter @jbrizzywrites

(Those are just a few from the Austin butler Fandom and Chris Evans Fandom (Although I need to read more of Chris Evans because I’m slacking, Austin has a tight grip on me)

Love all of you.🤎

-Incorectly

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austinsmutler · 2 years

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ElvisTown | Part 1 | Austin!Elvis x Fem!OC

Summary: Elvis is a poor waiter working in a cafe that sits right beside the road to Hell (AKA Vegas). He lives in a world of eternal winter, craving the warmth and music of summertime. Everything changes when a woman stumbles in from the cold and captures Elvis' heart.

Of course, this is basically Hadestown, but with Elvis.

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x Female OC (You can picture real Elvis if you want)

What you’ll like: Fluff, music, if you like Hadestown I hope you like this, Elvis being a total softie for the reader, eventual smut

Warnings: None for this chapter, it's all fluff :B

Word Count: 1,494

Part 2

Requests are currently open (Please tell me everything you want!)

On the road to hell, there was a railroad track. Beside that was the Presley cafe & bar, where folks could come in and have a drink, listen to some music, and unwind after a long day of working through the year-long winter.

Gladys Presley owned this fine establishment, and operated it herself with the help of her son Elvis. He worked hard waiting tables, scrubbing floors, and entertaining the workers every night with a beat-up guitar and a microphone stand (with no microphone.) These were hard times, but for Elvis, there was nothing that couldn’t be overcome with the right song. He just had to find it.

In this world, whether it was winter or summer, music had a sort of magic to it. When the Queen of hell came back to the surface, she’d bring warmth and new songs with her. Winter would melt away into a time of good food, sunshine and music that made everyone move with renewed energy.

So, from the earliest age, Elvis knew that life could always go on if he had music. The weather could be cold, the harvest nonexistent, and the fireplace dim, but as long as he was on stage at the Presley cafe & bar, life would keep on keeping on.

He never knew life could change its tune so quickly, until he met her.

…

Elvis was used to shivering whenever a new patron entered the cafe. The door would swing open and a snow-covered worker would come in, he’d set them down and take their order without much conversation.

On that Wednesday, the door breezed open close to closing time, and Elvis bit back a sigh from where he’d been sweeping the stage. The music was done for the day, and he was ready to get some sleep before the next one started.

He turned to see how many he’d be serving, when his heart leapt to his throat.

Already showing herself to one of the empty booths was a small woman wearing several threadbare coats that made his heart twist. She had a mix of rusty rings on each finger, tapping an erratic beat as she held up the menu, before giving up and looking out the window at the snowstorm outside.

She seemed to shiver with each breath, face flushed from the cold. When he walked over to greet her, she scowled at him before noticing the notebook in his hand and realising why he’d walked over.

‘Hello.’ He offered with a smile.

‘Hi.’

‘What would you like today?’

She scanned the menu. ‘How much is a coffee?’

‘A dollar.’

‘Does that include refills?’

‘For you? Yes.’ It did for everyone, but he wanted to make her feel special.

Her scowl came back at that. ‘I’ll have just a coffee, thank you.’

‘Of course. I- I didn’t mean-’ The look on her face had him backing away and into the kitchen, where Gladys was getting ready to close up shop.

‘Momma, we need a pot of coffee.’

‘At this time of evenin’?’ Gladys raised an eyebrow. ‘Who’s ordering that?’

She looked out of the small kitchen window and into the diner. The place was empty, everyone having gone to bed in the inn upstairs or stumbling out drunk into the cold. The only person there was the girl, rubbing her hands together and trying to warm up.

It didn’t take long to make a connection between the little thing in the booth and the pink on her son’s cheeks.

‘What’s her name?’

‘I dunno.’ Elvis’ eyes burned just looking at the back of the mystery girl’s head. ‘Momma, she’s so pretty.’

‘You wanna talk to her?’

‘Yes.’

Gladys handed her son a piping hot pot of coffee and two mugs. ‘Go on.’

You could say Elvis was naive to the ways of the world. He’d never taken the train to Hell, never left town or gone beyond the frozen fields. He stayed with his mother, played his music, and that was that. It didn’t leave a lot of room for talking to women, who scarcely visited town without an escort of some sort; boyfriend, brother, husband… What had happened to this girl for her to be so alone?

‘Elvis?’ Gladys stopped him before he left the kitchen.

‘Yes?’

‘Don’t come on too strong.’

He smiled his trademark lopsided smile, shrugged, and walked back out into the dining area.

‘This is on the house.’ He said, pouring her first cup.

‘What do you really want for it?’ The woman spoke through gritted teeth.

‘Is your name alright?’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Serious as that snowstorm, ma’am.’

‘Marie.’ She squinted at his name tag. ‘Elvis?’

‘Yes.’ He breathed. ‘Your name is like a melody.’

‘Pretty words for a waiter.’

‘I’m also a singer.’ He scratched the back of his head, one hand behind his back. Momma had given him a second coffee cup, but he didn’t want to sit across from her with the way she was looking at him, so he got on one knee instead to be eye-to-eye. ‘I’m working on a song, you know.’

‘A ‘musician’, huh?’ Marie rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve met too many men like you.’

‘He’s not like any man you’ve met.’ Gladys had snuck up behind them, kicking Elvis in the shin to get him to stand up and surrender the second mug. ‘Show the young lady what you’ve been workin’ on.’

Elvis’ guitar was still on the side of the stage from the night’s earlier performance. He’d given hundreds of performances, but his hands were shaking and he couldn’t hide the pink in his cheeks.

‘It’s gonna be a song so beautiful it brings the whole world back into tune. If I can get it right, we won’t need the Queen to bring summer up from below. We’ll just need to sing.’

The problem was, this song was just an idea. He’d been searching for the right sound for years, and every time he tried the guitar felt heavy in his hands. His fingers didn’t know the rhythm, but a fresh set of chords sprang to life as he sang- a deep tune to start, more sounds than real words. He kept his eyes fixed on Marie, who leaned forward with her hands tight around the coffee mug.

“When I sing my song

All the rivers'll sing along

And they're gonna break their banks for us

And with their gold, be generous

All a-flashing in the pan, all to fashion for your hand

The river's gonna give us a wedding band.”

Elvis was making the words up as he went, but they were honest when he sang them. Now it was Marie’s turn to blush. Gladys was beside her, flashing her son an encouraging smile. So he sang:

“Lover, when I sing my song

All the trees are gonna sing along

And they're gonna bend their branches down

To lay their fruit upon the ground

The almond and the apple,

And the sugar from the maple,

The trees are gonna lay the wedding table”

Now Marie stood up, coming towards the stage with a look he couldn’t name written across her face. Curiosity? Bemusement? Whatever it was, she wasn’t scowling anymore. It made warmth spread all through his chest and to his fingers as they danced from string to string.

“Lover, when I sing my song

All the birds are gonna sing along

And they'll come flying from all around

To lay their feathers on the ground,

And we'll lie down in eiderdown

A pillow 'neath our heads

The birds gonna make the wedding bed.”

Elvis’ eyes went wide as he realised what he was saying. Marie’s face didn’t change as she opened her mouth and sang,

“And the trees’re gonna lay the wedding table?”

Her voice was light, with a hint of something dangerous- the flurry before the snowstorm. He wanted to hear more, so he sang.

“And the river’s gonna give us the wedding bands.”

He ended the song with a softer guitar rhythm as Marie drew closer, as close as she could get without stepping onto the stage herself. Elvis couldn’t think of any words- none that matched the way he felt, anyway- so he hummed a simple tune, slower now.

“La, lalalala, la-laaaa…”

Marie opened her mouth and repeated the tune back, in a voice so clear he could have listened forever.

“La, lalalala, la-laaaa…”

All of a sudden, the cracks in the floorboards between them began to glow with a golden light that sent heat shooting through the whole diner. It only lasted for a moment, but when the glow died down a red flower had sprouted from the floorboards at Elvis’ feet. He plucked it and offered it to Marie, who took it without a word. Her cold fingers brushed his for a moment longer than necessary.

She turned, walked back to the booth, and took the extra mug from Gladys before looking back at Elvis.

“Come drink with me.”

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afewfantasies · 1 month

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🏔️The Retreat 🏔️- Prologue

Prologue | Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Misc references & details

Summary: Set after the events of the war Gale and Lorena are recovering from what they thought life would be and their new realities. Gale and Lorena were deeply in love with their respective significant others before the war, they had big dreams and grand plans for their futures together. Only it was not to be. Gale turns into a bit of a recluse and takes to a Lakeside retreat in the mountains away from city life when things with Marge don’t go as planned. After a hard breakup and subsequent divorce from her husband Lorena ends up at Gale’s retreat looking for work and a place to stay. This is an angsty fic that follows the themes of love, loss and recovering from trauma.

Pairing: Gale Cleven (MOTA Austin Butler) x Lorena (black fem oc)

Warnings: Race is a factor but there will be no overwhelmingly racist outbursts. It is more so a discovery element and explorations, different worlds, a little forbidden love element.

Tropes: Slow Burn, opposites attract, forbidden love, angst

--------------------------------Prologue----------------------------------

It had happened so fast, the war that had changed everything. The war that broke men, women and children. That forced people so far away from lives of relative peace into lives of rations, scarcity and pain. Lorena had been married then before the call for men had happened. Happily married. Reggie was the reason she drew breath and she the reason he existed. They’d been a loving couple, they were young beautiful, happy, full of life with the brightest of futures. They were on everybody’s list of dinner party guests. They shared hearty laughs and passionate nights and if anyone could have bet on a couple that would have made it, it would have been them.

Only it wasn’t to be.

Wars change even the best of men, after the first year Lorena’s dedication to writing daily never wained. She held everything inside, pouring her heart over the pages and keeping him informed. In month nine Reggie’s letters became less frequent, she felt the distance in the passages, in the reduced length of each reply and the heat fading from every I love you.

The news reports only confirmed that the boys were enduring a shellacking unlike anything known to men. Meetings with the other wives lessened as time passed as well. Some of their husbands had returned home broken. Missing limbs, too far gone to continue the good fight. With each influx of broken men it seemed the women around her only broke more and more. Sadness became a close friend and like many of the others Lorena picked up the habit of a cigarette and some whisky to lull her her sleep at night. Her home also became a refuge for those wives whose husbands returned as violent strangers, trained and efficient at killing.

Year two Reggies letters slowed to a few times a month. Still Lorena maintained her frequency as a good wife should. Her proclamations of love more and more sincere as she recalled their fondest times together in her memories and she yearned for him to return safely. His safety was paramount. She was ready for the war to be over, for her love to return and for a fresh start. The two years had withered her, her hands had become warn from the loss of their housekeeper. Her dresses worn in from their repeated use and the lack of funds and seamstresses. It also felt frivolous to spend on dresses without the person she wanted to admire her in them.

Her journals pages filled with her inner thoughts and the feelings too desperate to be shares, her hopes, fears and suspicions. Carmen Kloss’ husband had called her another woman’s name in the throes of passion. When he came back to reality and saw his wife he left their marital bed to cry outside. After an awful row Carmen discovered that there was another woman, a laundress stationed near him while he was recovering from wounds. There was an affair and a child on the way until she was killed by a bombardment. Now they lived in the same house with a Great Wall of distance between them no better than strangers. Long gone were the two people who cared for each other tremendously.

Heartbreak was all around. Still Lorena put it away and when the ships arrived after victory had returned she was hysterical to have her man return whole and of sound mind. Reggie had held her so tight, he stared all day and night like she was this elusive creature, like she would disappear and he’d wake up to find himself in a dream if he dared looking away. It was good for the first month until a letter came in the post. A perfumed letter. That night he’d come to bed and fell asleep without holding her. He began smoking more, all of a sudden he was full of stress and exhaustion. The ruse was gone the more people came to look for him. It was clear to Lorena that there was a tremendous amount of life that she would never become privy to. Conversation became far and few until the flame was all but extinguished. Somehow the pain of him present but so far way hurt more then his time away at war. Her heart knew it was another woman when he finally seemed to breathe at the arrival of her letters.

“I won’t hold an affair against you if it was what you needed to survive the war and feel comfort” she said finally breaking the silence between them. His head fell with shame immediately confirming her every suspicion.

“Lo” he said.

“You don’t have to explain, I just need you to be here. To want to be here and to love me” she whispered.

“I do want you Lorena” he’d responded voice cracking.

Therein lied the conflict. His heart was split but not as hers was.

“I love you Lorena, I’ll always love you” he said with commitment. He had, it was true. At least it had been once, she was sure of it. It was in the way he walked, talked and looked at her but now that warmth was reserved for when he was penning replies to his wartime lover’s letters.

His words said one things and his actions another. The other husbands looked at her differently as she entered dinner parties, the wives looked at her with empathy instead of longing jealousy. It was clear and when the younger version of her walked through the doors of the banquet hall and his eyes lit up it was all the heartbreak she would take. She walked seven miles back to the house in her heels and dress. She had asked god to bring him back whole and sane and the lord had answered the prayers. The man she loved with everything in her was alive and well and she could be thankful for that. As much as her heart and feet ached that night she could not hate him or the other woman for being the reason they’d survived the war. All the killing, bloodshed and loss was something she could never imagine. He was still all she needed but the distance was too much and Lorena could no longer stomach it. Stomach knowing what a night of passion was like with her husband who could only now drape an arm around her sparing a few chaste kisses a week. The man who’d been adamant about trying for a child as soon as he returned but couldn’t get the deed done anymore.

It wasn’t lack of kindness of affection, his tone was still loving and his touches gentle, he was still a considerate husband. He was still far better than most but there was an absence of that unmistakable spark that existed between them that had once burned bright. He’d arrived home to her cleaning her bloody feet riddled with concern. Lorena refused all his questions on what happened. He’d cleaned the scars diligently. He was attentive to her every breath. That night he’d held her close concerned for her well being. She spent an hour in the bathroom crying in the shower.

“Reggie, I know you love me but I know you’re in love with her and I cannot in good conscience stay here when you’ve been through enough anguish and deserve to be truly happy.” Her words broke him. The tears that flow were only confirmation she’d never seen him cry, she couldn’t shed a tear or he’d never leave and remained committed to his vows. It would be a tragedy she could never survive. Lorena was strong but she could never be that strong. She refused the house and all of its valuables taking two cases of tattered dresses and garments and a sac of other keepsakes dear to her. In the matter of hours she’d gone from a well kept wife who’d never done a day of labour in her 25 years to a homeless divorcee.

Her plan was simple, drive as far as the car could take her on her savings, find a place to stay and respectable work. The rest would have to follow. Her parents would only cause scandal and exasperate the situation between her and Reggie. The last thing she wanted was chatter surrounding her failed marriage while her heart was on the mend.

Author's Note: Very different from Feyd's Blade, ik ik, but the hopelessness in the soldiers eyes during the prison camp scenes of masters of the air pulled at my heart strings and so I needed to write about that return to normal. Gale is in the next part.

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler x black reader #austin butler x reader #black authors #masters of the air #mota #austin butler fanfiction #gale cleven #major gale cleven #austin butler x you

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foreverdolly · 2 years

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would it be a sin? | austin butler x fempresley!oc

part one

pairings: austin butler x fem!oc

word count: 3,422

summary: austin is over the moon about getting the lead role in the up and coming elvis biopic, but he's beginning to buckle under the immense pressure. there's a fine line that had to be drawn between himself and elvis presley, but it's beginning to blur as the days go by. when austin is introduced to lisa-marie's daughter, it's love at first sight. he's terrified of blending work with pleasure, but it's getting impossible to deny his heart.

warnings: mild cursing and fluff- the mouthwatering smut comes later.

notes:i wanted to start this first chapter off by saying that all of this is a work of fiction. i will be talking about things that are personal to both austin butler as well as the presley family, but i will be doing it with the utmost respect. this first chapter is tame, but there will be smut as well as the mention of the loss of family members through unfortunate circumstances in future chapters. the topics of drug use and death will not be romanticized or sensationalized in any way. if you have any requests for one shots for austin!elvis or austin butler x reader, please feel free to ask!

masterlist | requests are currently open for business !

Austin, most days, no longer felt like himself. It was hard to differentiate where Austin started and Elvis began. Over the months of nonstop research and dedication, the two of them melded together somehow. Who was who? He didn’t know anymore. Couldn’t really remember, either.

Austin wasn’t just playing a part in a film anymore. It felt too real. Too dangerous. It was bound to all get worse before it got better. When Baz officially calls it all a wrap and shuts off the cameras for good, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He was already flailing, trying to get a grip on things. . . on life. His long term relationship of nine years had ended towards the very beginning of the project. He had just cut and dyed his hair and had thrown himself into his art. Maybe it was his fault that things ended, but he didn’t regret it. Not even for an instant; no matter how horrible that may sound. Working on the movie had made it an easy transition from living everyday life with a long term partner to suddenly being single and alone. He had hidden himself away in his new flat in Australia. Due to Covid he rarely had any visitors. He had been able to sort out his own feelings back then. He took the time to really sort through his emotions and wrap his head around things.

His ex had been a major part of his life. She had helped to mold and shape him into the man that he was today. Austin had learned what he liked and didn’t like in a relationship. He learned how to be patient and how to properly care for a woman. She would always be an essential part of who he was- but as a building block. She had been an essential stepping stone. That first relationship had acted as his training wheels- but Austin knew how to ride now- so it was natural for him to take them off. So he had.

He mourned the relationship for a few short days, but the tears didn’t last for very long. He had ripped off the band-aid, and there was something oddly cathartic about it all. He felt better than he really had in years, and it was because things felt right. He had been resolute in his decision, and though he knew that it had been painful for her, she had agreed with him on all points. All that they had ever known was each other, and towards the five year mark, that had been the only thing that really kept them together. Familiarity and comfortability had been the glue that kept them stuck in that odd state of limbo. Austin stopped thinking about marriage and children as the years ticked by with her. He had stopped planning out their future. Instead they seemed to live day by day, making excuses to themselves and loved ones whenever anyone pried or if they tried to do any serious soul searching.

The call where he had ended things had only lasted fifteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds. He had kept things simple- sugar coated some things so that they would be easier for her to digest- and waited for her reaction. There had been tears. He could hear them, but she understood. He could tell that she agreed, and maybe that had been the hardest part of it all for her. The realization that they had been clinging onto each other for dear life, all while knowing that they weren’t the ones for each other. Change was a terrifying thing, and so they had ignored their own feelings and desires, hoping that eventually it would fade out.

Austin’s true feelings never flickered out though. They had stayed, and with it came the doubt. Then the decision.

He had told himself that he wouldn’t date for a while. He needed to dive head first into his project, and he couldn’t have any distractions. For a time that was exactly what he had done. He had put so much pressure on himself to do well that he found it hard to think of much else. He lived and breathed Elvis. For four long months there hadn’t been much else. It had been a lot to get used to for his friends and family. For the first couple of weeks, his sudden change of accent had been shocking for them. His father had been the most worried about it. He was scared about what would happen after they finished everything. Austin had assured everyone that he wanted the accent to feel natural to him, and that he had just chosen to take a more method approach so that he could fully immerse himself into the project.

These days, he had trouble remembering what he sounded like before they started filming. That was terrifying. He felt his grip on reality shifting. He was losing an uphill battle, because if he was going to be completely honest with himself, his mental health had never been all that great.

It was the day after that self realization that he had sought out personal advice, going to Tom Hanks in the hopes that he’d help to ground him. The man’s words had been simple, yet crucial. He needed to take time for himself. Not Elvis. Austin.

Austin had ordered a book later that night that reminded him of his years in high school. He had been forced to read it for an essay, but had found himself unable to put it down. Every night that week he curled up on the couch and read The Great Gatsby. Instead of feeling like somebody else completely, in those moments he only felt nostalgic. The line between Austin and Elvis had slowly been carved, no matter how faint.

But then she came along.

It had been a regular day on set, and a particularly hard one at that. After all of the karate lessons, dialect coaching, and dance classes the man was absolutely exhausted. He didn’t have too much left in him to give that day, and he was excited to crawl back home and fall asleep under his weighted blanket. He had moved to stand behind the camera, one of the crew member’s playing a scene back for him so that he could see exactly where he had gone wrong. Rather than moving his hips while he performed, he had been using his knees instead. He was hurting badly because of it, and it didn’t look the same. It didn’t look right. His mood had soured instantly, his blue eyes narrowing on the small screen as he took a step closer, watching his footing again and again. “Play that back one more time for me.” The crew member started to wind the shot back, but Baz had stepped in, his arm wrapped tightly around an unfamiliar figure. Austin was in no mood to meet anyone or exchange niceties with any of the extras. Not today at least. Today he was feeling majorly self conscious, and it was bleeding into his attitude.

“We’re about to wrap up for the day, so I wanted you to meet someone.” Austin wanted to groan. To ruffle his greased up hair and throw an absolute fit. The entire Presley family were eventually going to see the film, and he was letting them down, he just knew it. He was letting everybody down by this performance. How the hell was he supposed to smile and play nice? Austin turned on his heel, wishing that he had mastered the art of the fake smile over the years he had spent in Hollywood. He was good at acting, but he had the inability to be fake.

He turned on his heel, shoving his hands into the pockets of his blue slacks before eying Baz. The older man gently pushed the mystery woman forward, motioning with his head in her direction. Austin let his eyes focus on her in the dim studio lighting. He found himself instantly regretting everything. His initial expression, his inability to properly execute today’s scenes, the fact that he had eaten garlic hummus with his lunch that day- all of it.

Oh god, it was almost as though the world had shifted beneath his feet. His heart jumped up into his throat, his hands began to sweat, and he found it nearly impossible to function. All words escaped him. The only thing that left his lips for the first few seconds was a breathy huff, his blue eyes locking on her small figure. She was short and compact, daintily made in a way that made his protective instincts flare. Her hair was dark against the bright colors of her dress, the contrast a bit shocking. The first thing he noticed were her large eyes- so bright and so very blue. Then she smiled at him. The words weren’t the only thing to escape him. So had the ability to breathe. If Baz noticed the man’s reaction, he didn’t say anything. Instead he took the opportunity to fill the silence, gesturing between the two of them.

“Austin, this is Elliot. She wasn’t able to meet you back when we had the original luncheon with the rest of her family.” His reaction was delayed as he tried to piece together exactly what his director was trying to say.

It wasn’t until she reached her hand out towards him that it finally registered. “You’re related to Priscilla then?” He felt stupid the second the question left his lips, and he couldn’t help but smile nervously as he reached out and took her small hand in his, giving it a couple of shakes.

Thankfully she found humor in his reaction and laughed, and though the busy studio overshadowed the gorgeous sound, it reverberated in his ears nonetheless. “I’m one of her granddaughters. Lisa-Marie is my mother.” Austin’s eyes really honed in on each one of her dainty features. Her small pointed nose, her warm smile and bright blue eyes. He felt embarrassed that he didn’t instantly recognize her. It was almost as though he was shaking hands with Priscilla back when she was in her twenties. The resemblance was uncanny.

“That’s it for today people! You all did great!” Baz called out, the bright lights shutting off loudly as the cameras were moved out of position. Elliot stumbled out of the way, moving to Austin’s side so that extras could begin making their way off stage and to the dressing rooms. She lingered by his side, her arm gently brushing against his as cast and crew filed past. A few people looked in their direction, staring a little too long as they tried to decipher just who she was and what they were doing together. “I got here about thirty minutes ago, so I saw the last few takes.” She explained.

Austin pinched the bridge of his nose, his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. Of course she just so happened to show up today of all days. He had been off of his game all day long. “You were dazzling.” His eyes flickered open so that he could stare down at her, his mascara coated lashes brushing against his brow bone as he watched her expression carefully. He raised an eyebrow dubiously at her, completely unbelieving of the sweet sentiment. She threw her hands up in surrender, her smile widening.

“No, no. I’m serious, Austin. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. It was surreal.” He had been getting a lot of positive feedback as of late, but he still wasn’t used to it. He couldn’t keep the grin off of his face as he stared down at his feet, raising his hand so that he could nervously rub at the back of his neck.

“Well that means a lot comin’ from you.” He felt like an idiot talking to her in the accent, but he was already neck deep in it. He was positive that he couldn’t turn the voice off even if he tried.

“Baz is incredibly proud of you, by the way. He kept telling me about how dedicated you are to playing this part, and it really shows.” Elliot would never know how much her words meant to him. Today, of all days, he really needed to hear those things.

The fear of getting it all wrong kept him up most nights. Last night had been incredibly hard for him. The anxiety was eating him alive. He hadn’t even been able to keep down his breakfast this morning, his nerves getting the best of him. “One of my grandfather’s biggest fears was people dehumanizing him. Everyone has turned him into more of a character and less of a man. He wanted to do something important with his life- make an impact, you know? Your performance felt human.” The woman was quick to reach out, placing her warm palm against his sleeve. Her fingers wrapped around his arm, giving him a few quick squeezes. Austin wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure him or comfort him. Either way, she was handling him with a sort of softness that he wasn’t used to.

The actor could listen to her talk all day, he was positive. There was something about her voice that made his muscles untense and his mind quiet. It was soft and melodic, and if it wasn’t the kindness in her eyes that made him melt, then it was certainly the gentle way that she spoke to him that did the trick. Austin was certain that his knees were quivering beneath him. “I want to pick your brain,” He spoke up before he had time to second guess himself. “Would you like to have dinner with me? If you have other plans, I completely understand. Just thought it would be nice, is all.”

The girl shook her head, her dark locks falling off of her shoulders with the movement. For a second he was scared that he was being rejected, but she motioned towards the door with a sweep of her hand. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.” He let out a sigh of relief, a nervous laugh bubbling up and out of his throat soon after.

“Just let me go get changed, okay? It will only take a minute.” He had to remind himself not to run through the studio, his heart pounding in his ears as he closed the door firmly behind him. He had been terrified out of his mind whenever he had met Priscilla and Lisa-Marie for the first time. He had called Baz the night before, hoping for some sort of guidance. The director had become more of a mentor over the last couple of months, and he was hoping for some kind of a pick-me-up. Despite his constant words of nonchalance and encouragement, the anxiety lingered. He carried it in the pit of his stomach the next afternoon, and it didn’t ease throughout the entire luncheon. Austin wasn’t quite sure how he had managed to eat, but he had scarfed down way more than he was used to consuming. He went home with sweaty palms, an overactive imagination, and a stomach that was packed to full capacity. This felt oddly similar, but different at the same time.

This wasn’t a date, but Austin couldn’t seem to get the point across to the rest of his body. “Fuck.” He whispered under his breath, reaching for the hanger so that he could neatly begin taking off the outfit. He took the time to make sure that everything was hung up to Catherine’s liking before grabbing his leather duffle bag, pulling on his clothes like a mad man. He had worn a pair of light washed jeans and his favorite pair of brown boots to the studio this morning. He had spilled coffee on his shirt early in the afternoon, so Catherine had given him a spare white tee to wear home. He made a mental note to thank her whenever he saw her in the morning. Clearing his throat he moved closer to the mirror, taking a look at his hair that had been slicked back hours ago. He ran his fingers through it, trying his hardest to disarrange the hairstyle, but it only made his hair look dirty. With an exasperated groan he used his fingers to put it back into place, taking a step back to look at the eyeliner that had been dragged over his top lash line. He had half the mind to try and rub it off as well, but he knew that he’d only make himself look like a raccoon, what with the mascara on his top and bottom lashes.

This entire situation was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. Here he was, giddy over the potential of getting to know her better, all while dressed like her grandfather. The humor of the situation was lost on him. Instead he rubbed his large hands down his cheeks, letting out an aggravated groan. He felt like he was in high school all over again. He hadn’t been this nervous about a girl in. . . well. . . - now that he thought about it, had he ever been this nervous over a girl? He hadn’t been single since he was twenty-one. He had been fresh out of high school, and the only dates he had been on prior to his ex had been double dates that his guy friends had coerced him into. He was nearly thirty years old, acting as though he was still in his twenties. He felt ashamed.

Austin braced either of his hands on the dressing room counter, staring up at himself through his lashes. He had rather liked the dyed black hair, but he suddenly felt ridiculous standing there in the mirror. He had to go ahead and set himself up for disappointment. If he didn’t try, then there would be no chance of rejection. He needed to go ahead and dash whatever fantasies were floating around in his brain before they got the better of him, because how embarrassing would that make things for him? He wouldn’t just be friendzoned, he would be grandpa-zoned. Elliot saw him as one of the men tasked with telling her family’s tragic story. This was important to her, he could tell. This dinner was going to be nothing more than two potential friends talking with one another. It was going to be a great opportunity for him to hear rather intimate stories about the legend, passed down to her by the only woman that really knew the true Elvis. After a few deep breaths he stood up, brushing his hands over his shirt a few times before heading out the door. The overhead studio lights had been turned back on, a few of the crew members still lingering around as they taped wires to the floor, readjusted certain lights, and readied themselves for tomorrow's busy schedule.

Elliot’s back was to him, so he took the opportunity to get a better look at her. Her dress was a seventies style slip dress that brushed against her upper thighs. Her short dress and calf high boots made her look a lot taller than she really was from where he was standing. Of course he had seen her up close, and knew that she was well below his chin. Both her mother and grandmother were on the shorter side, so he wasn’t surprised. Her hair, which he hadn’t gotten a very good look at when the two had first been introduced, was incredibly long. It cascaded down her back in loose waves, ending right at her hips. Austin didn’t allow himself to stare at her for too long, not wanting to get carried away. ‘Friends’, he reminded himself as he walked up to her. “Elliot,” He called her name to get her attention, his eyebrows furrowing when he noticed that there was something in her hand. She turned her head to face him, grinning ear to ear as she flashed him a pair of ivory white panties. She had her fingers looped into the waistband, and it didn’t take him long to figure out that she had stumbled across the prop by accident. She must have been laughing to herself for a little while. Her cheeks were slightly red from smiling. “Nice.” She said simply, tossing them into one of the crew member’s folding chairs before nodding her head towards the door. “Shall we? I’m starving.”

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dre6ming · 1 year

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Crimson

Upcoming series

Pairing: Vampire!Austin Butler x oc!fem

She could feel the sweat freezing on the back of her neck as she tried to seem calm as ever, searching for her phone in the messy bag hanging from her shoulder. Mallorie realized the man behind her was following her after she walked in circles three times to make sure he was going to make the same exact turns as her, down the dark alley of Central Park. Her hands are shaking and in her mind a thousand bad scenarios play out, she sees herself dead, beaten or worse...r- "No!" She tells herself, she can't even bring herself to think of that. As she stares at the screen of her phone she thinks who would be best to call right now? Her roommate? Her coworker who just warned her about going for a walk in Central Park alone this late at night? The police?

"I think you're scaring the lady, why don't you leave her be?" A thick voice cuts through the quiet. "What's it to you asshole?" Another male voice, one a lot older and angrier rasps out. "Just go!" The fist voice says, steady and decided. She knows she should run, but she can't bring herself to, she needs to see who this voice belongs to. Mallorie never hears the second voice reply, so she gathers the the courage to turn around. She sees the man who was hot on her heels, walking away. Relief washes over her and she almost lets her guard down, but her blue eyes meet the eyes of the man who just stood up for her.

The Egyptian blue eyes look back at her and she can't help but think, that those must be the bluest eyes she's ever seen. The man standing a few feet from her is beautiful, standing a few good inches taller than her, a mess of blond hair crowning his head. His features are delicate, his skin so white he almost looks made out of porcelain, standing in the gloomy night. "Are you ok?" His pillowy lips move to reveal his melodic voice once again, a voice that matches his body so well. "Y-yeah." She lets out with a trembling voice.

"You sure?" He asks taking a few steps towards her, careful not to scare her. Mallorie simply nods her head, brushing back some loose strands of hair. "He was following me for a bit, I was about to call the police." She explains pointing to her phone. "I'm sorry you had to go through that." He says, as she also takes a few unsteady steps his way. "Thank you..."

"Austin" he says, putting his hand out for her to shake. The moment her flaming skin meets his ice cold flesh, it's almost like sparks fly between them.

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#crimson series #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler fanfiction #austin #vampire Austin Butler #austin x reader #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fans #austin butler x you

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sparklemichele · 2 years

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I’m going to put it out there if you are a Black woman in a fandom of a white male celebrity looking for stories that caters to you, don’t read Celebrity x Reader stories. They are 99.9% of the time not for you. They do not write for us in mind. I just tried to power through a few Austin Butler x Reader, fem reader fics and I made it through one that did not fully take me out the story. There was the usual “blushing” moments but I powered through cause the story was good. I gave the author props. However the few others I read. They needed to be OC. They were not all inclusive for all readers, especially Black readers. It’s 2022….wtf is going on. Consider making your reader an OC if you are catering to the main stream. Speaking for myself I’m tired of clicking on celebrity x reader and taken completely out of the story within minutes. At this point I’m f*cking tired! Y’all need to do better!! If you are open minded to suggestions my inbox is always open as I am sure many other Black writers inbox may be open. It’s really not hard to write without physical description of the reader. That is if you truly want to write an inclusive story. If not then please carry on, however as to respect BIPOC readers you might want to label your writing as not inclusive to such groups or put pics up of your envision white reader. That will help us sift through content that is not for BIPOC people. It would save us a lot of heartache and headaches. ✍🏾⌨️💞

#fandoms #woc representation #black writers #representation matters #BIPOC readers

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burninlovebutler · 1 year

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Just an Intern // Part 4.1

pairing: austin x intern lol | word count: 4.7k-ish?

summary: the consequences of austin’s behavior catches up to him amidst battling the paranoia of an impending media shit storm. when a familiar stagehand nuance instigates a conflict, austin helps intern escape.

warnings/notes: usual angst, oral f receiving, jealousy, dom!intern / sub!austin ?? if you squint?, orgasm denial, protective!austin, physical altercation, 18+ mdni

notes: austin's POV was suggested / requested - i prefer/am better at writing in first person so, i really enjoyed doing this. writing from male character's perspective is something i love doing so - i apologize if it's not your forte. y/n is being addressed as Intern bc i want to make her an oc but am afraid of the commitment so lol i hope you give it a chance anyway ♡

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | see masterlist for all other fics ♡

vibes: just an intern playlist ⛓️

This girl is a gun, before you know it, it’s done

And you’ll be wishing that you crossed your fingers

- Girl is a Gun - Halsey -

-AUSTIN-

I closed Intern’s hotel room door behind me after our argument. I headed towards the front desk, scuffing my feet across the glossy wood floor, my hand gripping the handles of my duffle bag. The hallways of the lodge were always so vacant despite being overly booked. The silence only amplified the cycling thoughts in my head. I didn’t know what the fuck I was thinking – talking to her like that, talking about her like that. I didn’t know what comes over me when I was around her.

But I felt it that first day in the trailer, this insatiable feeling of hatred. Everything about her annoyed the fuck out of me, and yet all my body wants to do is get on my knees and bury my tongue in her pussy. I shook my head of the thought. That’s what I got for being on a social media detox. I thought of hopping on Hinge or whatever app just to find something to fuck. But decided against it – besides, we were stuffed like abominable snowmen in that fucking wooden cage. Another idea of finding one of the extras to hook up with lit up like a glass bulb in my head, but it quickly dimmed. Extras were too easy, and desperation seeped through their pores like dirty nicotine. There was no challenge, no fun. And so, it destined to be a long, lonely night.

Regardless of the confinement and inconvenience, this little unplanned vacation brought a much-needed gift – no service. At least very little and I didn’t bother paying for wi-fi. I needed a break from my managers, and the unforeseen weather anomaly gave me an excuse to ignore them completely. If I ignored the rumors that were festering like an open wound on Twitter or the looming tension of the next big scandal, maybe it would all go away.

I’d always been quite good at that – ignoring and avoiding anything that bothered me.

Thankfully the extra room was still available and once inside I swung my leather duffle bag onto a blue fabric-covered wingback chair. I let out a sigh and pressed myself against the wooden dresser that was identical to the one in the room I shared with Intern. I both felt and heard a loud hunger pain rumble in my stomach and that’s when I remembered that the last thing I had eaten was those fries from the night before. I tugged at my bottom lip with my teeth and tapped my fingertips along the dresser assessing my options. The memory of the heaping bowl of fries – drenched in salt and grease – looped in my brain. Layered atop that memory came a sense of guilt, I couldn’t tell if it was about the meal or my actions in the lounge bar. Either way it evoked the same response.

Another loud hunger growl ripped through me and I rolled my eyes at the dramatics of my empty stomach. I pushed myself off the wooden furniture and went to the glass-door mini fridge. I tugged it open and steal a branded water, cracking it open and taking a sip. The cold water immediately soothed the length of my esophagus and pooled satisfaction in my belly.

-4 Days Later-

When the snow melted, it took the peace of my cellular detox with it. Being snowed in on a mountain top was no longer a suitable excuse for neglecting the incessant phone calls and Twitter news updates from my management team. For those couple days in that stupid little lodge, I was able to just fucking breathe for the first time in months.

Not surprisingly, word got to the higher ups about the fight with her, they even heard about the small fight with Landon. I was reprimanded three separate times because of the events. If it weren’t for my integral role in the film’s publicity I would’ve surely been dropped. My career was hanging by a thread as it was, I needed to get my shit together. If anything got leaked it would collapse the shit storm that my team was so precariously balancing for me.

The three of us, Landon, Intern and I were all temporarily separated to different areas on set for the past few days. They finally brought on another makeup artist; a flamboyant man named Nick. Nick took over my makeup in the time we were separated. While he seemed to be relatively the same skill level as Intern, he was placed under her, making her his direct manager. I suppose he was the new “Intern” now, but she’d always be that for me – whatever that meant.

I regretted everything with her. Everything. The good and the bad. I didn’t know why I was so awful to her, only that she infuriated me so much.

And yet, I found myself noticing her absence on my side of the set. I noticed the lack of fluttery annoyance she usually brought and the quippy banter we’d exchange. I even noticed the quiet that filled the days without our incessantly heated back-and-forth. I noticed everything about her being gone. Perhaps noticed wasn’t the right word.

Maybe I missed the noise.

That morning we had new girls on set for some bar scenes and they needed more intricate makeup so, Intern was back in my domain. There was some unsettling feeling that came with her proximity, a confusion perhaps.

There were three new extras for this scene, a girl-next-door brunette, a freckly redhead and a busty blonde. On any other day, the blonde would be wrapped around my finger but today she was about as enticing as a plain bagel. That didn’t mean stop her though.

The petite blonde sporting frayed jean shorts and a plain white v-neck eyed me, while she stood next to the other extras and Intern. Her sauntered over to where I was leaned on my bike only a few feet from them. I squinted the sun out of my eye to look up at her, “Can I help you?” I asked, sounding more bothered than welcoming.

“Sure ya can darlin’” Her pink filled lips curled to a flirtatious smirk with a poorly mimicked southern accent. “You can take me for a ride.”

I offered a small scoff, “Didn’t realize I looked like a ferris wheel.” The remark made her light brows scrunch in a confused way, like when a mall-santa claus is rude. I felt a pair of eyes on me instantly, but when I followed the feeling I was disappointed by the origin. Tom. He shot a warning glare reminding me that I needed to behave to prevent further repercussions. It annoyed me but it was a necessary reminder and I quickly turned on my press charm. I gave her a forced smile, “Sorry, I’ve just had a hard morning.” At least I was honest.

“It’s okay I forgive ya, my name’s Chloe.” The edges of her glossy lips turned upwards and stepped a foot at each side of my crossed ones. “Maybe I could make your day better.” Her suggestive voice quiet but not quite enough. My gaze wandered to Intern who’s face visibly twisted at the overheard remark but focusing on adding eyeshadow to the redhead’s eyes.

“Hey,” Snapped the blonde extra snapping fingers in front of my face bring my attention back to her, “I just gave you a pretty good offer and you can’t even look at me?”

Annoyance bubbled in me that I had swallow down.

Bitch I wouldn’t touch you with a 10-foot pole

-Is what I wanted to say but instead, “Sorry like I said, I had a shit morning.”

“Incredible, “ She sneered and propped her hands on her hips, “You’re exactly the monster the media portrays you to be.”

The last thing I needed was this dumb blonde who had only known me all of 5 seconds to be setting me off at 7 in the fucking morning. My jaw clenched holding back what I wanted to say but I knew my transparent poker face was giving away just how pissed I was getting. “Listen bi-“ I caught myself, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. “Chloe, you don’t know me at all, and I don’t think you should make assumptions of someone you barely know.” Attempting my best at keeping my temper tame.

An infuriatingly taunting cackle slipped her lips, “You know I didn’t believe the accusations, but I bet you really did everything that Madi-”

I shot up so fast I nearly knocked over my bike, “You don’t get to come on my set and talk to me like that, about shit you have no fucking idea about.” The hiss came out more apprehensive than I would’ve liked. I didn’t dare look over at Intern, I just prayed she wasn’t paying attention. I knew what she thought of me, she could think whatever she wanted. But her hearing any of the latest rumors swirling about me, would somehow be worse than anything I could’ve done to her.

She laughed at the fear in my tone, “Your set? You’re lucky you even landed this role with everything-“

“Who the fuck are you? You’re far too cocky for an extra, know your fucking place.” I growled, shoving past her and headed into the saloon set where we’d be filming.

I curled fingers so tightly into my palms as I heard steps following me, a vein pulsed in my forehead ready to burst open. I quickly pivoted back around, “What the fuck do y-” But instead of Chloe I found Intern, “Oh, hi.” My tone much softer, “What do you, um, what do you want?”

“I need to do your makeup.” She stated firmly while keeping her eyes focused on my chest, not looking at me.

“Right.” I nodded and followed her when she turned and walked towards her tented makeup station. I pulled myself onto the wood and fabric chair as she mixed up some foundation onto a metal palette. Then, she took a smooth flat brush and began painting the product down my face.

“So,” I hesitated as an awkward fog suspended in the air, “How’ve you been?”

She clenched her jaw and stayed silent.

“Isn’t it a little ridiculous that they separated us on set over a little rumor-”

“I see you found a new victim.” She sliced flatly, still not looking at me.

“Chloe?” I scoffed and her eyes snapped at me with a I’m-not-stupid glare. I sighed, I knew she wasn’t buying it, “Chloe? Are you kidding me?” I asked, then remembered how we got here in the first place.

She just raised her eyebrows in a ‘that’s not totally unbelievable’ kind of way.

I looked up at the tent as she patted makeup below my eyes with a small round brush. “If you think my taste is so low that I’d touch Chloe – you must not think very highly of yourself.”

She pressed her lips together before speaking again, “I just didn’t think you had standards, that’s all.” Her tone was light & bubbly, but the intention clearly wasn’t.

Anger began to pipe hot steam into my chest for the second time that early morning. I swore she tried to provoke me on purpose. My hands curled around the thick wooden arm rests and my nails dug into the grain. “And to think I almost missed you.” Her now powdered swiping motions halted as soon as she processed my words, her hand just barely trembling and her eyes locked on the area she was working. I couldn’t tell if I was mortified or glad that the words had left my mouth. Either way, it felt freeing, like I had finally told some secret I’d been hiding.

She continued finishing the work on my face in silence and stepped back. She set the black barreled brush down and kept her eyes low as she went to speak. “You’re done. Get out of my chair.”

I never thought pretending to seduce a pretty girl on screen would be as difficult as it was in my scene with Chloe. Regardless I felt Intern’s glare on me the entire time. My ego wanted to think it was jealousy but after what I pulled at the ski lodge and just before in the makeup chair, I knew it definitely wasn’t jealousy. Why the fuck would she be jealous after everything I’d done. Regardless, her stare burned like hot coals into my skin.

Directors cut for a 30 and I snatched a water bottle dodging every cast or crew member to find my bike. In the months of filming the vehicle had become some sort of comfort for me. Maybe it was me tapping into my character or the fact that it was the only thing that was constant, the only thing I could control.

I propped myself against the Harley unscrewing the cap of the bottle with a crack and taking a much-needed gulp. Before I could escape, Intern was making a b-line for me and I braced myself for whatever acid she was about to spew at me. But she walked past me, knocking my shoulder back and in a curt, but stern, tone, “I need to put something on your face.” Heading towards a trailer.

I let out a sigh, knowing whatever she was going to say would be even worse than I could imagine. I deserved it of course, but that didn’t make it any easier. I followed her to the trailer, pausing before the metallic door and taking a deep inhale before tugging it open. “We have no fight scenes Intern,” I exhaled clicking the door in place behind me, “What could you possibly need to put on my face?”

She straightened up, crossed her arms and puffed her chest out a bit appearing more intimidating, though there wasn’t much threatening about her. “Me.” She stated seriously, though her attempt at being menacing was almost comical.

“What?” I slightly stuttered not fully processing her words.

She shifted from one foot to the other before regaining her anger-fueled confidence. “I want to be on your face, I want to cash in my apology.” She blurted out quickly.

“I mean- I’m not saying no but just…why?” I questioned; I didn’t expect her to ever cash it in, nonetheless so soon.

“You and Chloe are fucking annoying and I just-“ Her was flustered, a light pink tinging her cheeks. Her fist balled at her side. “I don’t know, I just want my apology.” Her tone laced with false conviction. “I want my apology.”

“Okay…” I stated timidly, eyeing her wearily, “Are you sure?”

“Shut the fuck up and eat me out.” She sniped back, catching me off guard.

“Well I-“ Instinctively going to argue then realizing I had absolutely no problem with her request so, I shrugged, “Okay.” I looked her over, taking her in fully. I was trying to strategize how I was going to fulfil her request. She wore one of her flowy dresses, the ones that drive me insane – this one was powder blue with little white flowers. The dress hugged every part of her I enjoyed the most – it was tight around her waist and ruched around her full chest. The rest flowed down around her hips and thighs. I said a silent thank you to the universe for making it a warmer day. My gaze must’ve lingered on her too long because she took matters into her own hands.

“Jesus Fucking Christ.” She groaned impatiently, taking my face in her hands and practically smashing our lips together.

I let the inherent magnetism between us take over and took her face in my hands connecting our lips. She froze beneath my touch but quickly gave in, reciprocating the passionate kiss. Having her lips on mine again felt like a sip of cold water after a long drought – like an addict getting their first fix after sobriety. Her hands tangled into my perfectly styled hair for whatever scene I was meant to do next. Her tongue asked for entrance and I met hers voraciously. My hands trailed down to her sides and shoved her into the nearest wall. “Fuck.” I breathed out with my forehead pressed against hers. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes fluttered up at me with flushed cheeks. “Make me believe it.”

My fingertips were on fire every place they met her skin, and I could’ve sworn I had become a vampire from how every part of me was screaming to sink my teeth into her neck. But the sugar high I was getting from her lips won the battle. Pulling away for a fleeting second, “I’m sorry.” I said against her lips.

Almost completely in sync, she wrapped her arms around my neck as I picked her up effortlessly pulling her legs around my hips. I carried her over to one of the empty makeup vanities and sat her on the edge – all while our lips were still locked with our tongues dancing in time. I drew away again, cupping her cheeks in my rugged hands, gazing down at her lust-dazed eyes, “I’m sorry.”

There was a glimmer in her eyes that made me think maybe she believed that one. “Beg for it.” She demanded.

My hands squeezed her thighs all the way up to her hips, pulling her dress up with it. I swiftly grasped her hips and drew her to the very edge of the table. I began peppering kisses down her neck, she tilted her head to the side for more access. “I’m sorry.” I mumbled against the skin below her ear and she let out a small whine.

“Keep going.” She breathed out, her body melting and reacting to my touch.

I pulled her skin into a suck, just soft enough to not leave a mark, “I’m sorry.”

“More.”

“I’m sorry.” Working my way down till I reached her collar bones. My hands trailed up her sides, lingering on the curves I liked most before they molded around her breasts. She let out another small moan as my thumbs traced over her peaked nipples through the sheer dress.

Her breath hitched as my lips savored every inch of her skin down her chest, “More.”

I kneeled in front of her, her legs easily parted for me and already had a damp spot on her baby pink panties. I trailed soft, but hungry, kisses up her thigh, accompanying each one with an apology. I hooked my index fingers at the waist band and slowly pulled down her panties down her legs, tossing them only a few feet from us.

“I’m sorry.” I mumbled against her lips and I could feel her writhing beneath my mouth. I drew my tongue slowly up her folds, tasting the juices I thought I’d never taste again. I let out a grown from her flavor and it gained a hand tangled in my hair, rougher than normal.

I swirled my tongue over her clit and she let out a surprised moan. “Fuck, Austin.” She struggled to get out. Her response only fueled my work on her. My tongue swirled around her swollen nub and my hand traveled up her thigh. I teased her at her entrance with my middle and ring finger before slowly sliding them in. She let out a slow whine as they slid inside her and began pumping into her sweet spot. In a rhythmic manner, my fingers and tongue danced where she needed me.

“You taste so fucking good.” I hummed against her heat as her juices filled my mouth and ran down my fingers. She tasted sweet, sweet like honey and I ate her like I had an insatiable sweet tooth.

My work on her distracted me from how hard I was, painfully restrained in my jeans. My free hand went to unzip them to fuck myself while I devoured her, but she tugged at my hair. “No.” She growled. “This an apology is to me, and you don’t deserve to feel good.”

This was new for me. I’d never had a woman talk like to me during sex before. But there was something so fucking sexy about it and it only made my cock throb more for her.

It seemed her little shift into dominance turned her on just as much as it did me, her moans increasing in volume and her hand gripping my hair-spray drenched hair. I knew she was close with the way her walls clenched around my fingers and her legs trembled around my head. I gazed up at her as she began coming undone – I always thought women were their most beautiful in the throughs of their orgasm, but this was different. The way she glowed in her climax made me want to keep making her look like that. She was angelic and her moans were harmonies – the sort of songs you just want to replay over and over, practically getting high off of them.

Sometimes I would get this twist in my stomach when I’m in business meetings where I know the executives are swindling me, or when I’m in interviews and I can tell they’re going to butcher my words for a scandal. In college I’d get it when I was at parties that would get raided or in high school when intimidating seniors would corner me. That looming churn bloomed in my stomach whenever I was in danger – and I could feel it when I looked at her just then.

Once she was finally spent, I hesitantly pulled myself up from the floor and wiped the excess juices from my mouth. I watched her, disheveled with her chest heaving, still coming down from the high. “So, am I forgiven?”

Her hooded eyes weakly reached mine. I expected there to be more light in them than before, I expected them to be softer and less angry. She pulled herself off the table and smoothed out her dress before looking me dead in the eyes, “No. Not even close.” She took a step closer to me. “But it’s definitely a start.” She spoke with a tone that felt like I was just the gum under her shoe.

She glared at me as if she was disgusted with how I made her feel and tugging the hefty trailer door open and disappearing behind it. It was only then that I realized how utterly foolish it was to think that eating her cunt would erase all the damage I’d done.

I recognized that warning sign in my stomach when I looked at her.

She was a warning I needed to head.

-3 Days Later-

We were stationed along a long dirt road getting various riding and chase scenes. Bikes lined the side of the sandy road having to cut scenes constantly due to the still wet mud from last night’s unprecedented rain gunking up our tires and covering the ever-important sponsored logos on the bikes. The excessive wind whipping sand against us was also causing interruptions as Intern had to keep cleaning us up and reapplying. Between the shitty weather, the constant interruptions, and our fucking directors still hounding my ass harder since the ski lodge debacles, the day was not going well, and my patience was wearing thin.

I stood just beside my bike, trying to just breathe through the aggravation from the last cut as Intern used a brush to flick off the sand that had built up on my face. She used her pinky to dust off some extra then returned to the brush. Even though the brush was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt, it still mimicked steel wool compared to her touch. Out of everything that happened between us, and out of every memory that would make itself known to me, her touch was the one that lingered the longest. Sure, I thought about that night in the hotel where my cock was buried inside her as she rode me, or when I chained her to the trailer door… I thought about them a lot. But the ones that flickered constantly in my brain like flashing clicks of paparazzi cameras, was us in the hot tub or on the floor of that disgusting restaurant we broke into. My body seemed to remember her warmth on me when she was clinging onto me in the tub or when she held my face as I kissed her on the floor.

I’d never had memories or fantasies rile me up just as much as sexual ones. But my hands burned at the thought of touching her again, they ached just to be on her. I felt it when she was near me, when she touched me. It was magnetic. My cock craved her, of course, but my hands did too – it was something so foreign to me. And I fucking hated it.

It couldn’t happen again. I couldn’t let this happen again. Especially not after the warning siren that blared in the pit of my stomach every time she looked at me. One bitch was already on track to nearly ruin my career, I didn’t need another one. And from our track record, Intern wasn’t looking like the safest option anyway – already causing me fuck up in front of our cast and crew.

She was a warning I needed to head

I just needed to make it through the holidays and the rest of shooting, and I’d be done. I could forget all about her.

I kept my eyes on the floating clouds above us, just letting my thoughts flow in my head when I heard my bike engine rev and felt a splash of thick mud coat the side of my body. The sharp squeal from Intern told me she’d been hit too. “What the fuck!” Looking over at a stagehand, Ryan, the same one from the truth or dare debacle, being the only evidence of a culprit with hands on the vehicle.

He let out a cocky laugh, “Sorry man, was just tryin’ to clean up the bike.”

“You ruined my brushes!” Exclaimed Intern as she looked over the leather brush roll that thankfully covered all the products inside the cosmetic case. While the products inside were safe, her entire arsenal of tools were covered in mud.

This was the tipping point of the day, everything that had pissed me off culminated into the rage that coursed through me. The fact that it was Ryan and that I was now coated in mud, but most of all it was the mud on Intern’s brushes. I made it into Ryan’s face faster than I thought and grabbed him by his shirt. The threats from the directors and management were now faint memories as I held his shirt wrapped around my wrist. “What the fuck were you thinking.” I growled in his face.

“Austin! Let him go!” Shouted one of the crew members but I was too blinded with anger to decipher who.

“Who fucking told you you could touch my bike?” My fist tightening around the dark material.

Yet Ryan looked unbothered, “Sorry man, was just tryna clean it up.” He repeated though his voice was laced in competitive snide.

“Austin!” An even more aggressive shout, “Take a thirty!”

“I can’t work on anything more!” Perked up Intern shouting across set, her forced innocent voice didn’t fool me, she was livid. “My brushes are fu- ruined!”

“Fine. All three of you, call it a day. Go home.” Followed by a ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ muttered beneath the director’s tone.

I released Ryan’s shirt and shoved him back, “Fine, I’m fucking out of here.” Rounding the bike, throwing my leg over it and kicking off the stand.

Before I even moved, I glanced over at Intern looking absolutely defeated and furious, picking through her now destroyed tools.

“You comin’?” I asked over the engine rumbling, and she snapped her head up. Her frustrated watery eyes swirled with conflict; I knew she didn’t want to come with me, but I could get her out of there. She looked around weighing her options and ultimately her anger won. Her gaze landed on Nick, who gave her a little nod saying ‘I got this, go ahead’.

She quickly paced over to me, “Get me the fuck out of here.” She snapped in a whisper, and swung her leg over behind me, wrapping both arms around my torso.

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